Dark Reflection Part 1b
Dick awoke in a strange bed. The room was unfamiliar, but there were familiar objects occupying it. The framed photograph of him and Babs at the beach, which graced his living room wall, hung directly across from the bed. His 'Flying Graysons' poster hung on the wall to the left of the bed, and on the wall to the right hung Barbara's diplomas. Throwing the sheets off him, Dick realized he was only in his boxers. Someone had undressed him.
He stood on unsteady legs, and slowly moved to the bathroom. He found his Nightwing uniform in the hamper, his toothbrush, razors and cough syrup with his name on the prescription. Moving back into the bedroom, he started searching through the dresser drawers. Barbara's clothes mixed in with his in the drawers. They were living together.
No. This was wrong. It was all wrong.
Dick sat on the side of the bed. He had to think. What had happened?
The door opened and Barbara Gordon walked in. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of her. Her hair was still long, as it had been when she was
Batgirl. He loved her hair long. She was only wearing slinky underwear on her thin muscular frame. Still so familiar and … so wrong.
"Sleepy head awake?" she asked in a sultry voice as she climbed up on the bed with him. She moved on her knees behind him, and started massaging his shoulders. "Leslie left some medicine for you, if you need it. Cut on the TV, I want to watch the news," she whispered in his ear.
Dick didn't need her distracting him. His body may want her distracting him, but he needed to think. He couldn't think with an almost naked Barbara Gordon rubbing against him. He grabbed the remote, cutting on the TV. Perhaps that could distract his distraction.
Summer Gleason's face filled the screen " -- at Star Labs last evening. Videotape surveillance equipment captured the international assassin Nightwing as he murdered ten guards before causing the explosion of the experimental matter transference capacitor. Nightwing is part of the team of assassins led by the Batman. It is reputed --"
"Damn if you weren't hot on that tape," Babs growled excitedly.
Dick stared at the screen. He had watched himself committing murder ... but ... that wasn't him. And this ... wasn't a ... nightmare. What was going on? Matter transference capacitor? Could he have ... is it possible. Batman had briefed them all on the theory of the hyperverse. Had he and the Nightwing of this place changed places? These people were ... murderers. This Nightwing was a murderer -- a very skilled murderer. If he had changed places -- then -- that murderer was in his world -- with his family.
Barbara's massaging hands around his waist broke his concentration. Her lips caressed the back of his neck with smooth kisses and then gentle nips. Steadily increasing the intensity of her ministrations until he moaned at the sharp pain as white teeth pierced the delicate skin of his ear. The sound of his cry only increased her passion as her hands slipped between his legs groping him. Barbara pulled him back on the bed and straddled him. Her sinful smile grew as one of her hands stroked his rising manhood while her other hand fondled his chest.
Dick felt his body reacting to her stimulus ... but this wasn't Babs ... or at least it wasn't HIS Babs. He couldn't ... wouldn't. His hands grabbed her shoulders swinging her off him. "No! Uh ... not now."
"What do you mean, not now? Why not now?" she hissed sitting up over him.
"I'm not feeling well Babs. That ... explosion ... this head injury is really giving me a sense of vertigo. I just ... don't feel up to it. Okay?"
She slipped from straddling him and lay beside him on the bed. Her hands caressed his forehead. "Poor baby is sick. I'll call Leslie, have her see you today. Maybe the medicines from last night aren't enough." This Barbara kissed his forehead and moved to his eye, then kissed his cheek before pulling his lips to hers. Her tongue pushed its way into his mouth.
She tasted like Barbara. Smelled like Barbara. God where was the fairness ... this Barbara was a killer ... and she still walked. This Dick and Barbara were more 'together' than he and his Barbara had ever been. Why were the killers seemingly rewarded with what he had longed for since he first met her? He turned away. "Yeah, I ... I think I need to see Leslie. I'm sorta sick to my stomach."
The doorbell rang, giving new meaning to the phrase 'saved by the bell.' Barbara stood from the bed, grabbed her floral silk bathrobe, and threw it over her shoulders. "I'll get it," she replied. She stopped by the laptop sitting on the desk by the door and clicked a few keys. "Wonderful it's Daddy Dearest."
Dick Grayson watched her walk out into the living room, the door swinging slightly shut behind her. He moved from the bed and looked at the screen. The man standing at the door looked like the Jim Gordon he knew. His stomach knotted as he wondered how he was different in this world. He ran his hands through his hair and stood a moment, slightly unsure of what to do. His whole world was ... wrong. This wasn't his world ... that was what was wrong. "And how the hell do I get back home?"
He heard this Barbara greeting her father. The sounds were so familiar. How warped and twisted could this be? He propped himself against the desk as another wave of nausea swept over him. Standing, he pulled open one of the drawers and fished around until he found a gray pair of sweatpants. Pulling them on, he started out the door, but then he stopped. Dick caught his reflection in the mirror and moved. He gazed deep into his face, and then his eyes drifted down to the photograph of the Dick Grayson of this world. He picked up the frame and held it close. His gaze alternated between the mirror and the picture. He studied the planes of his face and the exact same features on the picture. Mirror images. There were no differences no matter how hard he looked. This world was a dark reflection of his own.
A trembling hand placed the frame back on the dresser. He ran his hand through his thick black hair and steeled himself to play his part until he could figure out a way to escape this world and go home. Casually, he opened the door and emerged into the apartment's living room.
"Hey Com--" he started, but halted biting his lip. He had no clue what THIS Jim Gordon did. "Jim. How are you today?"
"Fine Dick," Gordon replied. "Babsie tells me you have the flu."
"I've got something," Dick answered as he looked around orienting himself to his new surroundings. He sat in the red leather recliner where he could overlook the entire room.
"Daddy says he has a meeting with the mayor this morning Dick. About Nightwing and the murders of those ten poor guards we saw on the news," Barbara said as she handed him a cup of steaming black coffee.
"Really?" Dick asked taking the cup and sipping from it. This Dick Grayson even drank coffee as he did. They were so much alike ... how could this one be a killer?
"Damn bat crew," Gordon started. "Why the hell does the worst band of international assassins in the world have to pick MY city to base their operations. I have enough on my plate trying to keep the cops in this city from taking bribes and dealing with the Arkham weirdos to have to deal with these bat people. Well, I put out a shoot to kill order out for them. I'm tired of their rampaging through Gotham."
Dick nodded as he met Barbara's eyes. He saw the wicked gleam in her green eyes. She was enjoying the game she was playing with her father. How did Barbara become this ... Gordon was still police commissioner. What caused the rest of this world to go so wrong? Gordon's voice brought Dick out of his musings.
"So when are you going to get an honest job Grayson?"
"Sir?"
"You've got a lot of potential son. You don't need to waste your life imitating your father's idle playboy life. Just because Bruce Wayne has a few million dollars doesn't mean you shouldn't be a productive member of society."
"Daddy please," Barbara said as she sat on the arm of Dick's chair, her arm slipping around his shoulder. She gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder. "Dick's a writer; he likes to work on murder mysteries."
Dick caught the way she emphasized the word murder. How she held it playfully on her tongue. It made him sick to his stomach, but he knew he had to play the part. It was too dangerous at this point not to, there was much more he needed to know. "Would you rather I were a policeman Commissioner?"
"At least it's honest work ... most of the time," Gordon replied.
"Well at least he's not an assassin Daddy," Barbara teased, her hand squeezing Dick's shoulder again.
Gordon laughed. "Yes, thank goodness for that."
Dick sat his coffee cup on the table beside him and stood up. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll talk to you later Commissioner." He walked into the bedroom, and then to the bathroom. Casually, he pulled off the sweatpants and let them fall on the floor. He cut the water on, turning the hot as far as he could. He stepped into the steaming stream of water and drew his breath in. Letting the water cascade over him, he rested his head against the beige tiles. He relished the few moments alone to think. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew he had to get back into Star Labs. They were his best and only chance of understanding it and getting back home.
Two slender arms wrapping around his chest interrupted his thoughts. "Thought I'd join you," she purred. "Daddy dearest left to deal with the Bat problem." Her hands trailed down his body and she started to caress his thighs and his groin.
"No Barbara." He grabbed her hands and pulled them up. "No, I don't feel like this."
She pressed her bady hard against his pushing him into the tile wall of the shower. "Is there someone else? You KNOW how I feel about that."
"There's noo--"
"Remember that little Italian teacher you screwed around on me with," she hissed in his ears, her fingernails digging into the skin on his chest. "Remember finding her in pieces throughout her apartment. We don't want a repeat of that now do we lover?"
Dick felt sick in the pit of his stomach. This world's version of Helena. She had ... this Barbara had ... pieces. Red hot anger welled within him at the thought and he turned on her like a feral animal. One hand was around her throat and the other held her arms behind her. He shoved her into the opposite shower wall. "I said I didn't feel like it now. There isn't anyone else. Now leave me alone or I'll snap your neck," he growled in his best Batman tone. God, she looked so much like the love of his life, but the things she did, the words she said, repulsed him to his very core. She was an abomination of the woman he loved.
This Barbara didn't show fear. She smiled. Her smile turned to laughter. "That's my boy. Nice to know you're still in there." She winked at him. "I've got to go out anyway. You be well enough tonight to play." With that, she stepped from the shower.
His eyes reluctantly followed the smooth sultry movements of her glistening nude body as she walked across the bathroom. He watched her dry off and drop the towel on the floor, and then move out into the bedroom. The door closed behind her. Only when he was alone did Dick Grayson allow himself to exhale. This world was more of a nightmare than he thought. "I gotta find a way to get home," he sighed as the now cooling water beat down on his bare skin.
She was gone when he emerged from the bathroom. Blissfully, he had the apartment to himself. He rummaged through the drawers until he found a faded pair of jeans and a rust colored T-shirt. He stood under the 'Flying Graysons' poster and looked up at the images of his parents. "How did this happen? How did your son become a murderer? How did ... I ... become a murderer?"
Shaking his head, he walked from the bedroom through the apartment to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of strong black coffee. He stared out the window at the Gotham City skyline. His jaw flexed and he moved into the living room sinking down into the sofa. His eyes darted around the room taking in his surroundings. The faint hope this was all a nightmare had left him long ago. This was all too real.
Dick sat his coffee mug on the table forcefully and stood up. "Dammit, Grayson! You're a detective, you can figure this out and how to get back home. But not if you sit and wallow all morning." He looked around the apartment and smiled when he spotted a pair of keys hanging on a hook near the door. Seems this Barbara was at least getting the slob out of him. She probably cleaned up at her crime scenes too.
Grabbing the keys, he headed out the door. He had an idea, but he needed something first. Something he could only get in Bludhaven.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .