All of the characters and story lines and everything else I can think of are the property of DC comics and the WB network. The only bits that're mine are the words and the voice.
Chapter 9: Connection
Helena couldn't believe her eyes. He was crying. For half an hour, he'd been sitting over there on the roof of the warehouse sobbing into his mask as though his heart was breaking.
What in hell could break a guy like him?
For the first time in ages, she felt the stirrings of emotion within her soul. She ventured nearer, indecision warring within her. She shouldn't be doing this. It was just…it seemed like being alone was killing him.
His sobs subsided. Heaving an enormous sigh, he looked up. Their eyes met. She froze.
After a long moment, he spoke, shifting his gaze to the skyline, his tone low and gentle, yet a bit wry. "You can relax. I'm not really in the mood to eat any kids for dinner, tonight."
She responded in kind to the wry tone of his voice. "That's a relief. I hate being dinner. Ruins my whole evening."
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't really think mine could get much worse," he admitted, keeping his tone light. "Of course, I've never actually been dinner, so really, it's hard to know."
"Girl trouble?"
"Something like that, yeah." He glanced over and grinned wryly. "Actually, I just screamed at a friend to 'f—ing get over herself.' You know…sensitive and compassionate. Women love that."
"Oh, yeah—Lord knows I do." The sarcastic look on her face was priceless. In spite of his pain, he grinned for real and snorted, shaking his head. He could see that it pleased her to have been able to make him feel a little better. It warmed his heart.
"I should probably go apologize."
"Did she deserve it?"
He looked back at the skyline. "Yeah, she kinda did."
"Maybe she needs to be the one to apologize."
He considered that.
"Of course, you know, there's nothing sexier than a man groveling all over the place with a big old red nose and puffy eyes. Personally, I find it a really big turn-on."
He had to laugh at that. "You're right. I'm being an idiot. I need to give her time to come to her senses."
"You'll see. It'll be all romance and lovey-dovey music in no time. Nothing more romantic than making up."
He laughed again. "Naw, you got it wrong, kid. We're not…I mean…she's not my girlfriend. I mean, not that I'd mind…but I don't think she'd ever see me that way. At least, I don't think…I mean, I love her—more than I've ever loved anyone—but we're just friends, you know? I mean, we've known each other for years, dated other people…" Whoa, whoa…I don't owe this kid all these defensive explanations! What's up with that?
"For someone who's not your girlfriend, she's sure under your skin," Helena observed.
"She's…all the family I've got."
"Least you've got some." Helena's voice held just a hint of wistfulness.
He looked at her with compassion, "It's tough to have no one." He could have kicked himself when she immediately looked threatened and shut down. Responds negatively to attempts at forming an emotional connection. He filed it away for future reference. "Sorry, kid—I didn't mean…"
" 'S okay. Look, I gotta jet." She moved quickly away, across the roof.
"Hey, Kid," he called. She turned. "Thanks." She gave him a grin and disappeared from sight, leaving him to his thoughts.
He'd seen the kid before. He had spotted her a few times while he was patrolling, and it had soon become obvious to him that she was following him. She'd always kept her distance, though, and any attempts to make contact had resulted in her skittish disappearance. She reminded him of a wild, half-grown panther cub they'd had at the circus he'd traveled with when he'd been a kid. He sensed that same curiosity and longing for contact mingled with skittish fear and fierce independence.
Dick had tamed that panther. It had taken months and months of patience and perseverance, but he'd done it. He'd earned its trust. He'd been the only one in the whole circus who could go near it.
His parents had been acrobats, fearless performers on the wire and trapeze, and Dick had trained with them almost from the moment he could walk, but as long as he could remember, he had spent every spare moment of his childhood hanging around the tents of the animal trainers. It had soon become obvious that this was where his true giftedness lay. He understood the secrets of getting an animal to trust him, no matter how wild or frightened it was. He could tame any creature.
The secret was in remaining very quiet, never making sudden movements, betraying anxiety, taking direct notice of them, or threatening them in any way. You offered something the creature needed—usually food, placing it within the animal's comfort zone, then gradually moving it so that it was necessary for the animal to move closer and closer in order to obtain it. You studied its body language and made every attempt to match yours to it. You kept your voice low and reassuring, your movements gentle and fluid, and you took every opportunity to allow the animal to become used to your presence, providing as many opportunities as possible for the animal to witness your gentle treatment of other animals who trusted you. And, above all, you let the animal make all the proximity decisions. You never, ever moved in on its space or tried to trap it. If an animal suspected for one second that you intended to invade its space or take its freedom, all your work would be for nothing.
The most rewarding moment of his life had been the day that young panther had curled itself in the crook of his arm and slept. He'd never forgotten it.
Dick had found that there was little difference between earning the trust of animals and gaining that of humans. Oh, sure, you didn't put food out for people and wait for them to come. Human trust operated on an emotional level, not a physical one. Humans responded to compassion and understanding—needed it like food to survive. The secret, once again, was to learn to read the body language and to never, ever invade someone's space or betray a confidence. You had to let people decide for themselves how much they wanted to open up, and they needed to be able to test if they opened up to you a little, that you wouldn't move in on them, or use what they said against them, or tell other people.
Trust was the most precious gift you could be given. Dick prized it above all else.
Tending bar in the nearby city of Bludhaven was a good occupation for him. A bartender had to be a good listener—had to be able to earn trust and keep it—particularly when your patrons worked in law enforcement and criminal justice. In order to be able to patrol at night, he worked the day shift, which was usually, in the bartending world, a sucky shift with lousy tips. Dick had lucked out, though; this particular bar was directly across the street from police headquarters and a block away from the courthouse. Police officers worked round the clock, which meant that the bar during his shift was frequented by officers who were coming off the graveyard shift, and this made for some decent tippage. The bar was also a popular place for the courthouse crowd to hang out at lunchtime, though he had found that they didn't tend to be as generous in the tip department as the cops. It was a great place for a vigilante/bartender to pick up crimefighting tips, as well as being a wonderful fit with Dick's tendency to be a listener. He loved his job.
He probably should have sought a career in counseling—but that would have required years of school. Dick loved to read and was plenty smart, but he absolutely loathed school. That was Barbara's world…seemed like ever since he'd known her, she'd been effortlessly earning degree after degree after degree—Education, Law, Electrical Engineering, Computer Science, Chemistry, Physics...She loved it. Damn, that girl was all kinds of smart. Seemed like there ought to be some way she could use all that brain power to further the crimefighting cause, legs or no legs. Hmm…the idea had merit. That was up to her, though.
The best course of action would probably be to give Babs enough space to figure out what she needed to do. He'd had his say—now, he needed to let it go. He realized he wasn't really worried, anymore. He'd thrown down a challenge, and if there was one thing Barbara couldn't resist, it was a challenge. She'd come around.
In the meantime, that wild cub of a girl had managed to pull him out of his despondency by tossing him a challenge of his own. Kid that age shouldn't be on her own in the world—especially if she had metahuman abilities, as he suspected. Life was tough for metas, and it was too easy to fall into the traps of the criminal underworld. Damned if he was going to let her become an agent of the dark side of New Gotham. Kid had a good heart—he could sense it. Could be, he could help her learn to trust—maybe even be for her what Bruce had been for him.
He aimed to tame that kid.