She's bleeding all over me.
I'm holding her flat against me in the backseat of Gibson's Cadillac and every single bump in the road causes her pain. She's just barely conscious but she's not at all aware. Just the same when the car rocks, so does she. And her body shakes in response.
I run my fingers through her hair and I can feel how wet she is. A few strands are stuck to her forehead. She's sweating like crazy. Her fever is high. Her skin is so pale and blotchy.
I was right the first time; Helena is dying.
"You're bleeding," Barbara says, turning towards me. She motions towards my nose. I lift a hand up and realize that's she right. "Did you get hit?" she asks.
She knows better.
This is from inside of me.
I did this to myself.
I virtually exploded outwards. God, I knew that my powers were growing but man that...that was something else.
I shake my head. I don't want to talk about what happened in there just yet. It's too damn weird.
"Are you sure it was smart to leave Reese behind?" I ask instead.
Barbara nods slowly but I can see her doubts. "Other officers saw him there. They saw him get shot. If he just disappeared there'd be too many questions." She pauses. "Besides...Helena..."
"They didn't see her face," I offer up quickly. "She never took off her mask."
"That's just about our only saving grace," Barbara notes with a trace of bitterness. She turns back towards Gibson. "Park behind the Clocktower when you get there. There's a garage on the lower level."
"Sure," he says. I can see that he hasn't stopped using the rear view mirror to check out Helena. "Is she going to be okay?"
"I don't know," Barbara admits. She looks down at herself and touches the blood on her blouse. It started the night looking so beautiful but now it's stained beyond repair. That and something tells me then when this is all over, she's not really going to want to hold on to it.
I look away from her and gaze back down at Helena. She seems to be staring up at me but there's nothing there. Even my touch doesn't call up any responses. Just cold blue eyes looking straight upwards.
It occurs to me that there is distinct possibility that I might have flash fried her mind.
I decide not to dwell too terribly long on that possibility.
It's horrifying.
I move a towel that I have pressed up against the gunshot wound on her back. It's already soaked bright red. I push it harder into the wound and her body jerks in response.
I still don't see an emotional reaction. No fear. No terror.
Nothing.
I notice a small thin stream of blood seeping from her ears. I probably blew out her eardrums when I zapped her. At the very least I intentionally overloaded her system.
It was my only option.
I didn't think I had any other choice.
I had knocked the rest of the room on its ass but she was still moving. Even with all of her injuries.
And she was still trying to kill.
Kill me.
When she had swung her arm at me it hadn't been with the intention of knocking me off her; it had been a blow meant to kill.
I hadn't had a choice.
If anyone had come on to the scene and unmasked her, we never would have been able to save her.
If I hadn't gotten her out of there at that exact moment, she probably would have bled to death there on the ground.
Completely unaware of the fact that she was doing so.
I didn't have a choice in what I did. I didn't. No, I need to make this clear. There was no other choice.
I try to pull her closer to me, needing desperately to keep her warm. Her short dark hair is sticky and slick from both blood and sweat. I can feel her bleeding against my thigh. That's coming from her side wound.
You know the one that started this whole mess in the first place.
"Hey Barbara," I say suddenly, my eyes locking hard on Helena's left arm. I tilt my head to the side and squint at a blue-purple looking bruise I see there.
She turns slowly. "Hm?"
"She's been injected with something," I tell her.
It's the only thing that makes sense.
I've heard some passing stories about Helena doing a few drugs in high school. To my knowledge though it never involved needles. She abhors them. Every time Barbara tries to draw blood she gets cranky. And violent.
As in touch me with that again and I'll kick your ass to hell and back.
Which means her drug use was probably limited to the oral type. Smoked or swallowed.
Not that I know much about drugs mind you.
So someone else stuck her.
Probably Mick.
Barbara looks at me helplessly. If she were any other person she'd already have been climbing over the seat to get to Helena. She knows her limitations however and so she settles for narrowing her eyes at the wound.
"We're here," Gibson announces at he parks the Caddy. He gets out quickly and drops back to the trunk. He opens it up and pulls out Barbara's wheelchair. He has it up and ready to go in about ten seconds.
Must be nice to instinctively know how everything works.
Or to remember every instruction manual that you've ever looked at.
For even a brief moment.
Barbara lifts herself into the chair. "Let's go," she barks to me.
Gibson opens the back door for me. He offers to take Helena from me. I start to decline but then quickly realize that with as wiped out as I am, I might not be completely capable of carrying her with the utmost care.
Finally, reluctantly, I hand her over.
Gibson folds her into his arms with such amazing reverence. I've always known his feelings for her. He loves her. He'd do anything for her.
Even knowing that she'll never be able to return his feelings.
I step out of the car and place my hand against the metal for balance. My body feels like it's slowly turning to jelly.
Gibson smiles at me for a moment and then his entire attention returns to Helena. He tears away from me at full tilt. I think to tell him to slow down and not jostle her too much but the words never leave my mouth.
Time is of the essence. Hell, to be even more melodramatic, we're in a war with a time.
And right now we're losing.
"Dinah are you all right?" Barbara asks as she approaches me. I can see that she's covered in grime and blood. I don't think it's hers though. The blood that is. I believe it belongs to Reese.
"No," I say quietly. I know that I should have lied to her but I'm so tired.
So damn tired.
"She'll be okay," Barbara tells me, her voice amazingly soft.
I turn to her and I feel my legs wobble a bit. Still I manage to hold my ground.
Okay fine, I'm leaning against the car almost completely.
I'm not gonna fall.
I'm not.
I'm just not.
"You don't believe that," I tell her, tears in my eyes. "You think..."
She cuts me off, "She'll make it."
Then she turns and starts to move away from me, her wheels scraping the cement of the ramp. The sound echoes in my skull and all of the sudden I see blackness creeping down over my vision.
"Barbara?" I say, my voice growing very weak. I feel my fingers slide away from the metal.
She turns back to me and I see her eyes grow wide. Her hands jerk to her wheels and she rushes to me. She catches me just before I smack against the ground.
And then the darkness hits me.
Full force.
I'm out.
And my last thought before I'm spinning away?
God please don't let Helena die.
I'm such a damn child.
"Is Dinah sleeping?" Gibson asked as he turned towards Barbara. He was standing over one of the bio-beds. His eyes were roaming the length of it, taking everything in.
Barbara rather guessed that this was something he'd prefer to forget.
He never would.
It was his gift.
Or his curse.
"Yes," she replied. "It was just too much. She overloaded herself. She probably won't wake until morning." She paused. "At least I hope not."
She moved quickly over to several of the machines and began to flip them on. Her demeanor was cool, almost detached. Gibson could only wonder what was going on inside of her.
Wonder and worry.
He had known Barbara and Helena for several years. Helena more than her mentor but both just the same. They were definitely superheroes in every sense of the word.
Which meant that they were prone to having the bad tendency to blame themselves for every little bad thing that could ever happen.
Barbara Gordon was certainly no exception to the rule.
In fact, in many ways, she was the rule.
"Did we really need to tie her down?" Gibson asked quietly, his eyes retreating back to the immobilized form of Helena Kyle. She was lying on her stomach, bound to the bed by cuffs at both her hands and feet. There was a leather strap around her middle. It was just a few inches away from the gaping wound on her side.
"Yes," Barbara said curtly. She handed Gibson a pair of scissors. "Cut her shirt away. I need to get that bullet out."
"Where did it hit her?"
"I'm not sure," Barbara replied, her voice still so damn low. "Somewhere in the back."
"Could she be..."
"Paralyzed? Let's not go there yet," Barbara snapped, a little harsher than was probably necessary. Gibson seemed to understand and just let it pass him by.
"But why are we tying her down?" he asked, his eyes studying Helena intensely.
"There's something in her...some kind of drug I think... that has been making her extremely violent. I don't know what it is yet but..."
"Topside?" Gibson asked, glancing down at the needle prick. He placed a finger over the wound and noticed that it was seeping clear fluid. He put a finger to it and sniffed it. It smelled vaguely like almonds.
Barbara lifted an eyebrow. "Isn't that the new designer party drug?"
"Yeah. It's supposed to enhance everything in your body. No inhibitions at all. I've seen it at a few times at No Man's Land. People act...weird."
"How so?" Barbara asked as she continued to gather her tools. "And by the way, cut..."
"Cut?" Gibson queried. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. "Right." He bent over Helena and started to use the scissors to cut away her shirt. He clenched his jaw. It was no secret to anyone what his feelings for her were but now was not the time.
Now was the time for him to be a good friend. Her best friend. Like he's been all through out high school. Like she needed him to be now.
Which of course meant no sneaking quick looks at her body.
But hey, just the same, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't ever forget anything.
Though to be honest, seeing her bloody and tiny just wasn't a mental image he wanted for all time.
"Topside?" Barbara prompted as she crossed over to him. She took the cut shirt from him and dropped it into a trash basket. She indicated for him to cut the bra away as well. The look in her eyes was very clinical. All business.
Gibson did as he was told, lifting her body just a bit so that he could remove the cut fabric. Barbara took this from him as well and disposed of it.
"Gibson?" she reminded him.
"Some people get very excited and are all over the place. Others get violent. It's like alcohol times ten. No thirty. I'm talking a nun doing a lap dance weird." He shook his head. "I've never ever seen someone act like they were being controlled though."
"Mick must have enhanced it somehow," Barbara noted as she bent over Helena. "Do me a favor..."
"Name it."
"I want to see what her blood makeup is right now. Take a sample."
Gibson frowned. "I hate needles."
Just the same he moved over to one of the counters and picked up a syringe with an orange plunger. He turned it over in his hand and noticed that it had a white label on it that read: sample.
"I know," Barbara murmured. "But we need to know. She's going to be in terrible pain and until we know what's in her, I don't dare give her anything for the pain."
"Helena cranky when in pain," Gibson noted with a hint of amusement. He came up beside the small brunette. After several moments of searching for a vein, he finally found what he was looking for. He took a deep dramatic breath and then injected the needle into her left arm.
Her reaction was sudden but somehow thankfully anticipated.
Her arm jerked upwards and she tried to smack him away but the cuffs held her wrists hard and stopped her movement. She grunted in pain and tried to sit up. Again she was held by her binds. She snapped herself forward as if she was trying to charge him. He backed up and away, hitting his back on a table.
Barbara reached out with the flat of her palm and slammed her back down to the bed. "Gibson, get me that syringe with the black on it."
"Sure," he stammered, eyes locked on Helena's. What he was used to seeing was vibrancy and passion. What he saw was nothing. Even the site of her naked didn't take the edge off of this horrific revelation.
She was just blank.
Which meant her body was reacting instead of responding.
"Gibson, now," Barbara hissed.
He did as he was told and offered her the needle. She plunged it directly into Helena's neck. A few seconds passed and then finally the younger woman collapsed, her eyes closing.
"Damn," Gibson gasped. "She's not okay."
"No," Barbara admitted. "Did you get the sample?"
"Yes," he stammered, holding out the needle. The tip of it was broken but there was blood in the tube.
"Run it through the machine and then get back over here. We have to get the bullet out. I need you to hold her down."
He nodded slowly.
"Sure thing."
I drop my head into my hands and let out a breath. I feel the cool air smack against my palms and then disperse through my fingers. My hair falls everywhere and it strikes me that I probably look like a mess.
I don't care.
It's been a hell of a night. And it's hardly over. The clock tells me it's maybe three but I feel like it must be a week from now.
I'm that damn exhausted.
And so worn down from it all.
I mean really, where should I start?
Well I guess we can start with Helena getting stabbed in the side by that thug in the Red Zone a couple of nights ago.
It was a damn gash. Probably would have healed in two or three days without complications.
She should have listened to me.
I know it's kind of a strange time to be getting pissed off now but so what?
If she had just listened to me none of this would have happened.
I shake my head. This is dumb.
I know Helena Kyle. And I knew full damn well that she'd blow off my warning about the Red Zone. It was even vaguely amusing at the time. It's just one of those things she does.
She never believes anything is too much for her.
It's part of why she's so good at what she does.
She's fearless.
The truth is, this is partly my fault as well.
After she was injured I let my anger get the best of me. I knew exactly what was going to happen when I forced her and Dinah to face off that morning. Dinah was hung over but Helena was actually hurt. She was going to get knocked on her ass. And you know what, I was actually looking forward to it. I really was. I guess I felt like she had it coming.
It was inevitable that it would happen.
And I was right.
And she was pissed.
I knew that'd happen too but I guess I figured I could control it.
I didn't realize how angry she'd get.
Enough anyways to start a fight and I walked right into it.
I let it get out of hand.
I should have known better.
My anger pushed her to rebel. My frustration made her do whatever she could to prove that she was fine. And that I was wrong.
And in this case it sent her to a little bar at the edge of the Red Zone called Tidal Wave. To get drunk and be merry I suppose. Or just to burn off some steam in the middle of the dance floor.
And that's where she found out about Mick.
And God knows she couldn't stay away from that challenge.
That's just not in her blood.
And now God only knows what will become of all of this.
She's sleeping in the lab now. Her body is very weak but I actually think she'll pull through. The benefits of being a metahuman. If she was normal, she'd already be dead. Hell, if Helena Kyle was anybody else, she'd be zipped up in a black bag right now. And yeah, that imagery just about makes me loose my lunch.
Even if I can't remember if I had any.
I sit back up and look down at my clothes. I'm wearing light blue scrubs now. There are splatters of blood all over me. All of it hers. I had to get rid of the other clothes. I just...I had to.
"Miss Barbara?" I hear Alfred say from behind me.
I turn to him and say very dully, "I'm angry at her. I'm so angry."
"Of course," he says simply. He offers me a cup of tea. "You should sleep." He turns my anger away. Not like he doesn't understand but we both know that right now it isn't going to do anyone any good.
And it sure doesn't make me feel better so really why bother?
"You know I can't," I reply. "I have to be up...I have to be here when she wakes up. She'll be so scared."
He settles a hand on my shoulder. "You said yourself that she will likely sleep for quite awhile. Miss Dinah is also likewise indisposed."
"I know," I tell him. "So someone needs to stand watch." I turn towards him and put my hand up. I won't argue about this one and I want my body language to relay this fact. We both know that Gibson is sitting next to her right now but it's not the same. I need to be near.
If she wakes up and in as much pain as I know she will be, she'll be terrified. And I can't give her anything until I am absolutely sure of what was put into her.
And I'm still not.
Not completely anyways.
He seems to accept it and he drops back a step to give me space. "How is Miss Helena?" he finally asks, his voice a little heavier than usual. I can hear emotion cracking his tone but he holds his composure remarkably well.
I nod slowly, using the movement as something to keep my adrenaline flowing.
I'm so damn tired.
"I think she'll live," I say slowly.
"Where was she shot?" he asks, much more to the point.
"In the back. Above the heart. Her shoulder will be out of commission for awhile." I take a deep breath and then exhale it. "Her legs should be fine. It didn't injure her spin at all."
"Well that's certainly a relief," he notes quite unnecessarily.
I nod. "Yes. Her side was a bit more problematic. There's substantial muscle damage. She may need surgery down the line. I'm not sure."
"You've done well," he tells me, almost as if he knows I need to hear it.
I do.
"God Alfred, how are we going to get through this one?"
He's silent for several long moments. Then he finally says, "What exactly is bothering you?"
"We don't know how many people she killed tonight," I reply quietly, my eyes locked on his. "We know she shot Wolf. She almost killed Reese..."
I stop and blink.
Alfred smiles. "I just spoke to a helpful young man at the hospital. He informed me that my son is doing just fine. He cleared surgery about an hour ago."
"Your son?" I crack.
He smiles at me. "He assumed I was his father. I didn't think to correct him." He pauses, his eyes dancing. "Should I have?"
"No," I say with a laugh. "Well that's good at least."
"Indeed," he says.
I shake my head, the humor draining away from me. "But that doesn't fix things. Helena murdered at least one person last night..."
"I don't mean to argue semantics with you but did she not kill the person who shot her first?"
"Semantics true. Alfred, she shot her in the face. That was about as brutal of a hit as you can get. She was going to kill Reese if Dinah hadn't interceded. And she was firing into the crowd." I shake my head. "It'd be nice to believe that she never hit anyone but..."
"But that's unlikely," he finishes. "Yes. Unlikely."
"I don't know how I'm gonna pull her through this one. I mean it's not her fault. That drug they gave her...it wasn't even Topside. It was some hybrid mix of mind control drugs and uppers. It purposely sought to bring out...God Alfred...she never had a chance."
"You don't think that will be a comfort to her?"
I laugh and I hear the bitterness in my own voice. "No, I think it'll hurt her more. She likes to believe she's strong and in control of her own self. I don't think she'll be comforted to think that she's a killer at her base."
"She's not," Alfred insists, his voice never rising in tone. Just the same, I can hear the urgency there. He's been watching Helena since she was a small child. Hell he knew the truth about her long before I did. He cares for her as if she were his own daughter most of the time.
Saving her is as important to him as it is to me.
I smile at him sadly, "You really think she'll believe that?"
We just stare at each other for a long moment. We both understand the same things.
This could destroy Helena.
And there is no one for her to lash out besides herself.
I don't know how to save her.
God I just don't know how.
"You'll make her," he finally says. It's the first time I've heard him say something so hopelessly youthful. Something he needs to believe.
I nod. There's nowhere to go with this conversation.
"I think I'm going to go check on her," I say quietly. "Gibson has been watching over her for the last two hours. It's probably my turn."
"It's not," he says. "It's your turn to sleep."
"I thought we already..."
"If you can't even remember your own name, how is it that you will be helpful to her if she has a set-back?"
I snort. "That was low."
"Perhaps," he admits. "But if you're right, she's going to need you now more than she ever has."
"And she'll reject me now more than she ever has as well."
"That's likely," he replies.
"But," I finally say reluctant. "I see your point." I glance over at one of the clocks and point. "Three hours. You let me sleep three hours and then you wake me up. Understand?"
He smiles at me. "Of course. Good night Miss Barbara."
I stop and stare at him for several long beats. Then finally I mumble, "I have a bad feeling about all of this. I think it's going to be awhile before any of us have a good night."
He knows I'm right.
And for once, he just lets me go.
The man spun in his chair and picked up the remote control off of his desk. He glanced over it for a long moment, looking for the faded one that was the power button. His eyes weren't what they used to be.
"So what did happen Ratboy?" Marco Jameson asked. He looked away from the boy in front of him and gazed back at the house of cards that he was building.
The nervous kid with the brown hair shuffled. "Bad shit boss."
"That's helpful," Jameson muttered. "I meant with Mick and Tara."
"Tara?" Ratboy asked, his nose scrunching. Yeah, the kid really did look like a rat.
"Wolf," Jameson, sighing impatiently. "Because I'm watching the news and all I see is that a whole lot of cops walked away still alive."
"Yeah," Ratboy admitted. "Wolf shot Cat. Cat shot Wolf. In the face."
Jameson lifted an eyebrow. "Really?" He chuckled. "Interesting. Maybe Mick was right about that Kyle girl."
"She's a bitch," Ratboy snarled.
"Yes and because you're such an excellent judge of character," Jameson drawled. "So what about Mick?"
"One of the cops shot him. Only me and a few of the other boys managed to escape."
"Well that's good I guess. Did you see what happened to Mick?"
"Nah. I think he's dead though," Ratboy said dismissively. "So uh, does that mean I'm in charge now?"
Jameson laughed, his face drawing to together in an expression of cruel humor. "You're joking right?"
Ratboy just chewed his lip. Finally he muttered. "I survived."
"That's probably because you were hidden somewhere," Jameson grunted. "Not come on Ratboy, you know I'd never let you take over the Red Zone. That territory is just too important." He stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk. "But don't worry son, you will be given a place of prominence. With Mick and Tara dead, we have a serious lack of authority figures. You can have the boys down at the docks then. How's that?"
Ratboy brightened considerably. "That'll work."
"Good. Go on then."
"Hey boss?" Ratboy asked, turning around. "Mick said the Shield Ball was just a diversion."
Jameson grinned. "It was but you don't need to worry about that. Go on."
Ratboy shrugged and made a quick exit. Best not to tempt fate.
Jameson dropped back in his chair and sighed. It had been a very long night and although things had worked for him, losing any of his well-cultivated team was unfortunately. "It's too bad," he said aloud. "I liked Wolf quite a bit."
"So did I," a voice said from the doorway of the bathroom. "But she lost focus."
Jameson turned. "You should by lying down. You look horrible."
"I'm fine," Mick Collins said as he stepped into the light. His face was pale and there were scratches on his cheeks but otherwise he seemed to be okay. He lifted up his shirt and pointed to an ugly bruise on his chest. "Damn bullet dented the vest all the way into my ribs." He glanced towards the door that Ratboy had left through. "Was that smart? Letting him run any of the boys?"
"For now it's best that no one knows you survived and he's easily controllable," Jameson replied.
"I suppose," Mick answered, scratching at his hands.
"You're lucky they didn't look at you too carefully," Jameson noted.
Mick snorted. "Stunt blood eh?" He tossed a package of red fluid on the desk. "Though I think used way too much of it to sell the package. It's sticky everywhere."
"So what did happen in there? I thought you had everything under control?"
"It was under control," Mick said as he fell into one of the chairs. He grunted in pain and rubbed his chest. "I just didn't realize that Wolf was so pissed off. It's okay though, I was right. Helena man..."
"Be careful boy, she's brought you done before and she has a reputation. Besides, you don't even know if she made it through all of this."
"I know," Mick said with confidence. "I also know her."
Jameson poured himself a glass of scotch. He offered Mick one but the younger man waved him off. "Well the good news is that your diversion worked. We were able to get the entire shipment into town without a bit of interference."
"Good," Mick said with a cough. He reached across the desk and picked up a small bottle. He popped the top off and poured five red pills into it. He tossed them into his mouth and then chewed them into little bits. Jameson grimaced and shuddered. "Disgusting. You really should lie down if you're in that much pain."
"I'm fine," Mick assured him. "Besides there are plans to be made."
"Plans?"
"Yeah, plans." He chuckled. "You know I told her that this was all about owning the girl. I wasn't wrong."
"You're sure you can handle her? I won't have her ruining everything. We've worked too damn hard."
Mick looked up at Jameson and grinned. "Don't worry dad, it's all under control."
END PART 5
I'm holding her flat against me in the backseat of Gibson's Cadillac and every single bump in the road causes her pain. She's just barely conscious but she's not at all aware. Just the same when the car rocks, so does she. And her body shakes in response.
I run my fingers through her hair and I can feel how wet she is. A few strands are stuck to her forehead. She's sweating like crazy. Her fever is high. Her skin is so pale and blotchy.
I was right the first time; Helena is dying.
"You're bleeding," Barbara says, turning towards me. She motions towards my nose. I lift a hand up and realize that's she right. "Did you get hit?" she asks.
She knows better.
This is from inside of me.
I did this to myself.
I virtually exploded outwards. God, I knew that my powers were growing but man that...that was something else.
I shake my head. I don't want to talk about what happened in there just yet. It's too damn weird.
"Are you sure it was smart to leave Reese behind?" I ask instead.
Barbara nods slowly but I can see her doubts. "Other officers saw him there. They saw him get shot. If he just disappeared there'd be too many questions." She pauses. "Besides...Helena..."
"They didn't see her face," I offer up quickly. "She never took off her mask."
"That's just about our only saving grace," Barbara notes with a trace of bitterness. She turns back towards Gibson. "Park behind the Clocktower when you get there. There's a garage on the lower level."
"Sure," he says. I can see that he hasn't stopped using the rear view mirror to check out Helena. "Is she going to be okay?"
"I don't know," Barbara admits. She looks down at herself and touches the blood on her blouse. It started the night looking so beautiful but now it's stained beyond repair. That and something tells me then when this is all over, she's not really going to want to hold on to it.
I look away from her and gaze back down at Helena. She seems to be staring up at me but there's nothing there. Even my touch doesn't call up any responses. Just cold blue eyes looking straight upwards.
It occurs to me that there is distinct possibility that I might have flash fried her mind.
I decide not to dwell too terribly long on that possibility.
It's horrifying.
I move a towel that I have pressed up against the gunshot wound on her back. It's already soaked bright red. I push it harder into the wound and her body jerks in response.
I still don't see an emotional reaction. No fear. No terror.
Nothing.
I notice a small thin stream of blood seeping from her ears. I probably blew out her eardrums when I zapped her. At the very least I intentionally overloaded her system.
It was my only option.
I didn't think I had any other choice.
I had knocked the rest of the room on its ass but she was still moving. Even with all of her injuries.
And she was still trying to kill.
Kill me.
When she had swung her arm at me it hadn't been with the intention of knocking me off her; it had been a blow meant to kill.
I hadn't had a choice.
If anyone had come on to the scene and unmasked her, we never would have been able to save her.
If I hadn't gotten her out of there at that exact moment, she probably would have bled to death there on the ground.
Completely unaware of the fact that she was doing so.
I didn't have a choice in what I did. I didn't. No, I need to make this clear. There was no other choice.
I try to pull her closer to me, needing desperately to keep her warm. Her short dark hair is sticky and slick from both blood and sweat. I can feel her bleeding against my thigh. That's coming from her side wound.
You know the one that started this whole mess in the first place.
"Hey Barbara," I say suddenly, my eyes locking hard on Helena's left arm. I tilt my head to the side and squint at a blue-purple looking bruise I see there.
She turns slowly. "Hm?"
"She's been injected with something," I tell her.
It's the only thing that makes sense.
I've heard some passing stories about Helena doing a few drugs in high school. To my knowledge though it never involved needles. She abhors them. Every time Barbara tries to draw blood she gets cranky. And violent.
As in touch me with that again and I'll kick your ass to hell and back.
Which means her drug use was probably limited to the oral type. Smoked or swallowed.
Not that I know much about drugs mind you.
So someone else stuck her.
Probably Mick.
Barbara looks at me helplessly. If she were any other person she'd already have been climbing over the seat to get to Helena. She knows her limitations however and so she settles for narrowing her eyes at the wound.
"We're here," Gibson announces at he parks the Caddy. He gets out quickly and drops back to the trunk. He opens it up and pulls out Barbara's wheelchair. He has it up and ready to go in about ten seconds.
Must be nice to instinctively know how everything works.
Or to remember every instruction manual that you've ever looked at.
For even a brief moment.
Barbara lifts herself into the chair. "Let's go," she barks to me.
Gibson opens the back door for me. He offers to take Helena from me. I start to decline but then quickly realize that with as wiped out as I am, I might not be completely capable of carrying her with the utmost care.
Finally, reluctantly, I hand her over.
Gibson folds her into his arms with such amazing reverence. I've always known his feelings for her. He loves her. He'd do anything for her.
Even knowing that she'll never be able to return his feelings.
I step out of the car and place my hand against the metal for balance. My body feels like it's slowly turning to jelly.
Gibson smiles at me for a moment and then his entire attention returns to Helena. He tears away from me at full tilt. I think to tell him to slow down and not jostle her too much but the words never leave my mouth.
Time is of the essence. Hell, to be even more melodramatic, we're in a war with a time.
And right now we're losing.
"Dinah are you all right?" Barbara asks as she approaches me. I can see that she's covered in grime and blood. I don't think it's hers though. The blood that is. I believe it belongs to Reese.
"No," I say quietly. I know that I should have lied to her but I'm so tired.
So damn tired.
"She'll be okay," Barbara tells me, her voice amazingly soft.
I turn to her and I feel my legs wobble a bit. Still I manage to hold my ground.
Okay fine, I'm leaning against the car almost completely.
I'm not gonna fall.
I'm not.
I'm just not.
"You don't believe that," I tell her, tears in my eyes. "You think..."
She cuts me off, "She'll make it."
Then she turns and starts to move away from me, her wheels scraping the cement of the ramp. The sound echoes in my skull and all of the sudden I see blackness creeping down over my vision.
"Barbara?" I say, my voice growing very weak. I feel my fingers slide away from the metal.
She turns back to me and I see her eyes grow wide. Her hands jerk to her wheels and she rushes to me. She catches me just before I smack against the ground.
And then the darkness hits me.
Full force.
I'm out.
And my last thought before I'm spinning away?
God please don't let Helena die.
I'm such a damn child.
"Is Dinah sleeping?" Gibson asked as he turned towards Barbara. He was standing over one of the bio-beds. His eyes were roaming the length of it, taking everything in.
Barbara rather guessed that this was something he'd prefer to forget.
He never would.
It was his gift.
Or his curse.
"Yes," she replied. "It was just too much. She overloaded herself. She probably won't wake until morning." She paused. "At least I hope not."
She moved quickly over to several of the machines and began to flip them on. Her demeanor was cool, almost detached. Gibson could only wonder what was going on inside of her.
Wonder and worry.
He had known Barbara and Helena for several years. Helena more than her mentor but both just the same. They were definitely superheroes in every sense of the word.
Which meant that they were prone to having the bad tendency to blame themselves for every little bad thing that could ever happen.
Barbara Gordon was certainly no exception to the rule.
In fact, in many ways, she was the rule.
"Did we really need to tie her down?" Gibson asked quietly, his eyes retreating back to the immobilized form of Helena Kyle. She was lying on her stomach, bound to the bed by cuffs at both her hands and feet. There was a leather strap around her middle. It was just a few inches away from the gaping wound on her side.
"Yes," Barbara said curtly. She handed Gibson a pair of scissors. "Cut her shirt away. I need to get that bullet out."
"Where did it hit her?"
"I'm not sure," Barbara replied, her voice still so damn low. "Somewhere in the back."
"Could she be..."
"Paralyzed? Let's not go there yet," Barbara snapped, a little harsher than was probably necessary. Gibson seemed to understand and just let it pass him by.
"But why are we tying her down?" he asked, his eyes studying Helena intensely.
"There's something in her...some kind of drug I think... that has been making her extremely violent. I don't know what it is yet but..."
"Topside?" Gibson asked, glancing down at the needle prick. He placed a finger over the wound and noticed that it was seeping clear fluid. He put a finger to it and sniffed it. It smelled vaguely like almonds.
Barbara lifted an eyebrow. "Isn't that the new designer party drug?"
"Yeah. It's supposed to enhance everything in your body. No inhibitions at all. I've seen it at a few times at No Man's Land. People act...weird."
"How so?" Barbara asked as she continued to gather her tools. "And by the way, cut..."
"Cut?" Gibson queried. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. "Right." He bent over Helena and started to use the scissors to cut away her shirt. He clenched his jaw. It was no secret to anyone what his feelings for her were but now was not the time.
Now was the time for him to be a good friend. Her best friend. Like he's been all through out high school. Like she needed him to be now.
Which of course meant no sneaking quick looks at her body.
But hey, just the same, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't ever forget anything.
Though to be honest, seeing her bloody and tiny just wasn't a mental image he wanted for all time.
"Topside?" Barbara prompted as she crossed over to him. She took the cut shirt from him and dropped it into a trash basket. She indicated for him to cut the bra away as well. The look in her eyes was very clinical. All business.
Gibson did as he was told, lifting her body just a bit so that he could remove the cut fabric. Barbara took this from him as well and disposed of it.
"Gibson?" she reminded him.
"Some people get very excited and are all over the place. Others get violent. It's like alcohol times ten. No thirty. I'm talking a nun doing a lap dance weird." He shook his head. "I've never ever seen someone act like they were being controlled though."
"Mick must have enhanced it somehow," Barbara noted as she bent over Helena. "Do me a favor..."
"Name it."
"I want to see what her blood makeup is right now. Take a sample."
Gibson frowned. "I hate needles."
Just the same he moved over to one of the counters and picked up a syringe with an orange plunger. He turned it over in his hand and noticed that it had a white label on it that read: sample.
"I know," Barbara murmured. "But we need to know. She's going to be in terrible pain and until we know what's in her, I don't dare give her anything for the pain."
"Helena cranky when in pain," Gibson noted with a hint of amusement. He came up beside the small brunette. After several moments of searching for a vein, he finally found what he was looking for. He took a deep dramatic breath and then injected the needle into her left arm.
Her reaction was sudden but somehow thankfully anticipated.
Her arm jerked upwards and she tried to smack him away but the cuffs held her wrists hard and stopped her movement. She grunted in pain and tried to sit up. Again she was held by her binds. She snapped herself forward as if she was trying to charge him. He backed up and away, hitting his back on a table.
Barbara reached out with the flat of her palm and slammed her back down to the bed. "Gibson, get me that syringe with the black on it."
"Sure," he stammered, eyes locked on Helena's. What he was used to seeing was vibrancy and passion. What he saw was nothing. Even the site of her naked didn't take the edge off of this horrific revelation.
She was just blank.
Which meant her body was reacting instead of responding.
"Gibson, now," Barbara hissed.
He did as he was told and offered her the needle. She plunged it directly into Helena's neck. A few seconds passed and then finally the younger woman collapsed, her eyes closing.
"Damn," Gibson gasped. "She's not okay."
"No," Barbara admitted. "Did you get the sample?"
"Yes," he stammered, holding out the needle. The tip of it was broken but there was blood in the tube.
"Run it through the machine and then get back over here. We have to get the bullet out. I need you to hold her down."
He nodded slowly.
"Sure thing."
I drop my head into my hands and let out a breath. I feel the cool air smack against my palms and then disperse through my fingers. My hair falls everywhere and it strikes me that I probably look like a mess.
I don't care.
It's been a hell of a night. And it's hardly over. The clock tells me it's maybe three but I feel like it must be a week from now.
I'm that damn exhausted.
And so worn down from it all.
I mean really, where should I start?
Well I guess we can start with Helena getting stabbed in the side by that thug in the Red Zone a couple of nights ago.
It was a damn gash. Probably would have healed in two or three days without complications.
She should have listened to me.
I know it's kind of a strange time to be getting pissed off now but so what?
If she had just listened to me none of this would have happened.
I shake my head. This is dumb.
I know Helena Kyle. And I knew full damn well that she'd blow off my warning about the Red Zone. It was even vaguely amusing at the time. It's just one of those things she does.
She never believes anything is too much for her.
It's part of why she's so good at what she does.
She's fearless.
The truth is, this is partly my fault as well.
After she was injured I let my anger get the best of me. I knew exactly what was going to happen when I forced her and Dinah to face off that morning. Dinah was hung over but Helena was actually hurt. She was going to get knocked on her ass. And you know what, I was actually looking forward to it. I really was. I guess I felt like she had it coming.
It was inevitable that it would happen.
And I was right.
And she was pissed.
I knew that'd happen too but I guess I figured I could control it.
I didn't realize how angry she'd get.
Enough anyways to start a fight and I walked right into it.
I let it get out of hand.
I should have known better.
My anger pushed her to rebel. My frustration made her do whatever she could to prove that she was fine. And that I was wrong.
And in this case it sent her to a little bar at the edge of the Red Zone called Tidal Wave. To get drunk and be merry I suppose. Or just to burn off some steam in the middle of the dance floor.
And that's where she found out about Mick.
And God knows she couldn't stay away from that challenge.
That's just not in her blood.
And now God only knows what will become of all of this.
She's sleeping in the lab now. Her body is very weak but I actually think she'll pull through. The benefits of being a metahuman. If she was normal, she'd already be dead. Hell, if Helena Kyle was anybody else, she'd be zipped up in a black bag right now. And yeah, that imagery just about makes me loose my lunch.
Even if I can't remember if I had any.
I sit back up and look down at my clothes. I'm wearing light blue scrubs now. There are splatters of blood all over me. All of it hers. I had to get rid of the other clothes. I just...I had to.
"Miss Barbara?" I hear Alfred say from behind me.
I turn to him and say very dully, "I'm angry at her. I'm so angry."
"Of course," he says simply. He offers me a cup of tea. "You should sleep." He turns my anger away. Not like he doesn't understand but we both know that right now it isn't going to do anyone any good.
And it sure doesn't make me feel better so really why bother?
"You know I can't," I reply. "I have to be up...I have to be here when she wakes up. She'll be so scared."
He settles a hand on my shoulder. "You said yourself that she will likely sleep for quite awhile. Miss Dinah is also likewise indisposed."
"I know," I tell him. "So someone needs to stand watch." I turn towards him and put my hand up. I won't argue about this one and I want my body language to relay this fact. We both know that Gibson is sitting next to her right now but it's not the same. I need to be near.
If she wakes up and in as much pain as I know she will be, she'll be terrified. And I can't give her anything until I am absolutely sure of what was put into her.
And I'm still not.
Not completely anyways.
He seems to accept it and he drops back a step to give me space. "How is Miss Helena?" he finally asks, his voice a little heavier than usual. I can hear emotion cracking his tone but he holds his composure remarkably well.
I nod slowly, using the movement as something to keep my adrenaline flowing.
I'm so damn tired.
"I think she'll live," I say slowly.
"Where was she shot?" he asks, much more to the point.
"In the back. Above the heart. Her shoulder will be out of commission for awhile." I take a deep breath and then exhale it. "Her legs should be fine. It didn't injure her spin at all."
"Well that's certainly a relief," he notes quite unnecessarily.
I nod. "Yes. Her side was a bit more problematic. There's substantial muscle damage. She may need surgery down the line. I'm not sure."
"You've done well," he tells me, almost as if he knows I need to hear it.
I do.
"God Alfred, how are we going to get through this one?"
He's silent for several long moments. Then he finally says, "What exactly is bothering you?"
"We don't know how many people she killed tonight," I reply quietly, my eyes locked on his. "We know she shot Wolf. She almost killed Reese..."
I stop and blink.
Alfred smiles. "I just spoke to a helpful young man at the hospital. He informed me that my son is doing just fine. He cleared surgery about an hour ago."
"Your son?" I crack.
He smiles at me. "He assumed I was his father. I didn't think to correct him." He pauses, his eyes dancing. "Should I have?"
"No," I say with a laugh. "Well that's good at least."
"Indeed," he says.
I shake my head, the humor draining away from me. "But that doesn't fix things. Helena murdered at least one person last night..."
"I don't mean to argue semantics with you but did she not kill the person who shot her first?"
"Semantics true. Alfred, she shot her in the face. That was about as brutal of a hit as you can get. She was going to kill Reese if Dinah hadn't interceded. And she was firing into the crowd." I shake my head. "It'd be nice to believe that she never hit anyone but..."
"But that's unlikely," he finishes. "Yes. Unlikely."
"I don't know how I'm gonna pull her through this one. I mean it's not her fault. That drug they gave her...it wasn't even Topside. It was some hybrid mix of mind control drugs and uppers. It purposely sought to bring out...God Alfred...she never had a chance."
"You don't think that will be a comfort to her?"
I laugh and I hear the bitterness in my own voice. "No, I think it'll hurt her more. She likes to believe she's strong and in control of her own self. I don't think she'll be comforted to think that she's a killer at her base."
"She's not," Alfred insists, his voice never rising in tone. Just the same, I can hear the urgency there. He's been watching Helena since she was a small child. Hell he knew the truth about her long before I did. He cares for her as if she were his own daughter most of the time.
Saving her is as important to him as it is to me.
I smile at him sadly, "You really think she'll believe that?"
We just stare at each other for a long moment. We both understand the same things.
This could destroy Helena.
And there is no one for her to lash out besides herself.
I don't know how to save her.
God I just don't know how.
"You'll make her," he finally says. It's the first time I've heard him say something so hopelessly youthful. Something he needs to believe.
I nod. There's nowhere to go with this conversation.
"I think I'm going to go check on her," I say quietly. "Gibson has been watching over her for the last two hours. It's probably my turn."
"It's not," he says. "It's your turn to sleep."
"I thought we already..."
"If you can't even remember your own name, how is it that you will be helpful to her if she has a set-back?"
I snort. "That was low."
"Perhaps," he admits. "But if you're right, she's going to need you now more than she ever has."
"And she'll reject me now more than she ever has as well."
"That's likely," he replies.
"But," I finally say reluctant. "I see your point." I glance over at one of the clocks and point. "Three hours. You let me sleep three hours and then you wake me up. Understand?"
He smiles at me. "Of course. Good night Miss Barbara."
I stop and stare at him for several long beats. Then finally I mumble, "I have a bad feeling about all of this. I think it's going to be awhile before any of us have a good night."
He knows I'm right.
And for once, he just lets me go.
The man spun in his chair and picked up the remote control off of his desk. He glanced over it for a long moment, looking for the faded one that was the power button. His eyes weren't what they used to be.
"So what did happen Ratboy?" Marco Jameson asked. He looked away from the boy in front of him and gazed back at the house of cards that he was building.
The nervous kid with the brown hair shuffled. "Bad shit boss."
"That's helpful," Jameson muttered. "I meant with Mick and Tara."
"Tara?" Ratboy asked, his nose scrunching. Yeah, the kid really did look like a rat.
"Wolf," Jameson, sighing impatiently. "Because I'm watching the news and all I see is that a whole lot of cops walked away still alive."
"Yeah," Ratboy admitted. "Wolf shot Cat. Cat shot Wolf. In the face."
Jameson lifted an eyebrow. "Really?" He chuckled. "Interesting. Maybe Mick was right about that Kyle girl."
"She's a bitch," Ratboy snarled.
"Yes and because you're such an excellent judge of character," Jameson drawled. "So what about Mick?"
"One of the cops shot him. Only me and a few of the other boys managed to escape."
"Well that's good I guess. Did you see what happened to Mick?"
"Nah. I think he's dead though," Ratboy said dismissively. "So uh, does that mean I'm in charge now?"
Jameson laughed, his face drawing to together in an expression of cruel humor. "You're joking right?"
Ratboy just chewed his lip. Finally he muttered. "I survived."
"That's probably because you were hidden somewhere," Jameson grunted. "Not come on Ratboy, you know I'd never let you take over the Red Zone. That territory is just too important." He stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk. "But don't worry son, you will be given a place of prominence. With Mick and Tara dead, we have a serious lack of authority figures. You can have the boys down at the docks then. How's that?"
Ratboy brightened considerably. "That'll work."
"Good. Go on then."
"Hey boss?" Ratboy asked, turning around. "Mick said the Shield Ball was just a diversion."
Jameson grinned. "It was but you don't need to worry about that. Go on."
Ratboy shrugged and made a quick exit. Best not to tempt fate.
Jameson dropped back in his chair and sighed. It had been a very long night and although things had worked for him, losing any of his well-cultivated team was unfortunately. "It's too bad," he said aloud. "I liked Wolf quite a bit."
"So did I," a voice said from the doorway of the bathroom. "But she lost focus."
Jameson turned. "You should by lying down. You look horrible."
"I'm fine," Mick Collins said as he stepped into the light. His face was pale and there were scratches on his cheeks but otherwise he seemed to be okay. He lifted up his shirt and pointed to an ugly bruise on his chest. "Damn bullet dented the vest all the way into my ribs." He glanced towards the door that Ratboy had left through. "Was that smart? Letting him run any of the boys?"
"For now it's best that no one knows you survived and he's easily controllable," Jameson replied.
"I suppose," Mick answered, scratching at his hands.
"You're lucky they didn't look at you too carefully," Jameson noted.
Mick snorted. "Stunt blood eh?" He tossed a package of red fluid on the desk. "Though I think used way too much of it to sell the package. It's sticky everywhere."
"So what did happen in there? I thought you had everything under control?"
"It was under control," Mick said as he fell into one of the chairs. He grunted in pain and rubbed his chest. "I just didn't realize that Wolf was so pissed off. It's okay though, I was right. Helena man..."
"Be careful boy, she's brought you done before and she has a reputation. Besides, you don't even know if she made it through all of this."
"I know," Mick said with confidence. "I also know her."
Jameson poured himself a glass of scotch. He offered Mick one but the younger man waved him off. "Well the good news is that your diversion worked. We were able to get the entire shipment into town without a bit of interference."
"Good," Mick said with a cough. He reached across the desk and picked up a small bottle. He popped the top off and poured five red pills into it. He tossed them into his mouth and then chewed them into little bits. Jameson grimaced and shuddered. "Disgusting. You really should lie down if you're in that much pain."
"I'm fine," Mick assured him. "Besides there are plans to be made."
"Plans?"
"Yeah, plans." He chuckled. "You know I told her that this was all about owning the girl. I wasn't wrong."
"You're sure you can handle her? I won't have her ruining everything. We've worked too damn hard."
Mick looked up at Jameson and grinned. "Don't worry dad, it's all under control."
END PART 5