Part 4
Gabby
My Meta power first showed when I was fourteen. I didn't have a clue what was going on, just that I had strange dreams about giant bubbles.
I remember waking up partially in the early morning and I could hear the birds, the sound of someone making coffee in the kitchen, I even felt the sheets under my back but I couldn't open my eyes. This, I now know, is the perfect time to let my powers out. To give in to the pull of the dreams of a couple of hundred thousand people entering REM or D-Sleep. The time when they dream of their faults, happiness and humiliation.
The first ever dream I accidentally walked in on was that of a six year old girl.
A little girl dreaming of things that any normal six year old dreams of, the beach, her family, a big yellow dog, balloons. It was confusing at first as the little blonde girl ran along the beach with the dog one second and blew out the candles of a cake the next. Her mind was working much to fast for me to keep up.
I worked my power like a muscle and slowly I started to gain control. I could feel the deep throb at the back of my head, like someone was squeezing my brain lightly, massaging it. It caught me off guard at first but I soon realised that it was the 'on' switch.
When I concentrate on the tight pull darkness starts to wash over me.
It's like being caught in a rip, with water pushing in at my mouth and face, no way to breathe, no way to see, no way to scream. It's like warn bath water but heavier like milk washing over my skin.
I've taught myself to find it relaxing. Every time I use my power I calm down further as bright colours float in front of my eyes. Bright bubbles like balloons with beautiful gold, yellow, red and silver strings attached to each one and leading to even more bright balloons.
Soft music, like birds singing in harmony, always surrounds me. It's like floating through a sea of bubbles, each one brushes my legs or arms and I always shiver as my over sensitised skin constantly tingles at the contact.
As each bubble brushes past me I can feel something new, a new emotion, a titbit of knowledge or even a small memory that I have no recollection of ever experiencing.
It was months before I could purposely will myself into my special dream land. Not long after that I realised I could enter the dreams just by pressing my body against a bubble and letting it pop around me.
I soon learnt the sounds of my friends dream orbs. I could put myself into their dreams or take over if they were already dreaming about me. I learnt a lot about my friends that first year of dream walking. Like Jessica Parsons had a reoccurring dream about me in a swim suit. Candy Thompson was crushing on her step-brother and Richard Kenny had a panty fetish.
But not all the dreams are funny, ironic or hold good blackmail material. Some of them are horrifying. Fantasies of rape, murder, assault all unfulfilled and waiting in their owner's heads.
There is an entire corner of my dream scape that I dedicate to the dream orbs of Arkham and the people that work and live there. In the beginning I would accidentally stumble across the psychotic dreams of an axe murderer or a serial rapist. They all got shoved to the back of the dream scape and never do I want to touch them again.
But to quote Uncle Ben 'with great power comes great responsibility.'
The first really important secret I accidentally learnt was the security code to New Gotham High's systems. I knew then that I had to be responsible with my gift. I had to always keep a control on my mouth and mind so things didn't accidentally slip out, for my own protection as much as anyone else's.
The second really big secret I learnt was about the vigilantes of New Gotham. I honestly don't know what surprised me more Helena Kyle, Dinah's kind of adoptive sister, being the Huntress or the fact that the Huntress was in love with my English teacher.
Even now, years later, I can't see why the two of them hadn't gotten together sooner. Helena's sweet, yet steamy, dreams about Barbara were nothing compared to Barbara's. The amount of leather, latex, costumes and darkened alleys that woman featured in her dreams made me wonder if Barbara had a few fetishes of her own.
Of course the blush factor to all of these dreams was another thing I had to be careful of. Seeing my respected English teacher wearing very tight fitting leather and latex, dressed as Batgirl was one thing but seeing her in the middle of a steamy sexual encounter was another.
Those dreams are ones I try to stay out of as much as possible.
Then there were Dinah's dreams. In the beginning I felt bad about them. I felt so guilty that I knew what she was going through and I didn't say anything to help. She had nightmares about her mother's death and her foster parents. The dreams were violent and terrible, filled with screaming people and pain.
I stood outside the orb and only ever went in when I could. If she were alone for a few seconds or about to be hurt again but the rest of the time there was nothing I could do. It hurt me to watch her in so much pain.
Now when she sleeps she murmurs things. She tells people to stop hurting her, that she is sorry and she won't do it again. She pleads with them to leave her alone. When I'm sure she'll either start crying in her sleep or wake up screaming she drags me inside her head. Wether intentionally, sub consciously or accidentally my presence seems to calm her a little bit and she thinks more clearly, even blocking out some of the cruel words or kicks.
At least she turns to me. I'm the one that saves her in the end
But now…
The tablets worry me. She takes them three times a day and just seems to get worse after every single dose. I hope that Barbara can work this out.
I'm selfish I want my Dinah back.
I want things to be normal.
Normal.
That would include having a semi-tidy room. I hate cleaning.
I groan as I push myself up off the bed, enough thinking time for action. First the dirty dishes, then loads of laundry, then some dusting I wonder if Barbara actually knows where the vacuum cleaner is.
Then church even though I haven't been in years.
God knows I feel guilty about giving away Dinah's secrets. Even if it was to help her.
Barbara
Carolyn would be disgusted with me.
It's all my fault and Carolyn would be horrified at what I've done. I destroyed her daughter.
She wasn't happy about Dinah's involvement in 'the life' to begin with. She didn't like that her only child was facing all the danger she did. But I convinced her. I was the one that told her I could take care of Dinah. I could train her to be a hero. I was the one who told Carolyn that Dinah would be safe with Helena and I.
The little capsules mock me from their secure place under my microscope. I could walk the other way, not get myself involved in this and hope like hell that it's me being paranoid and Dinah really is just having some mental troubles.
Maybe she's depressed and the tablets are anti-depressants.
After all Dr. Fraser is a very highly sought out and qualified mental health professional. She couldn't possibly be an associate or in any way associated with Harley Quinn or any other criminal.
No way. I should just leave this alone. Go to the kitchen and drown my troubles in the half gallon of fudge ripple Helena bought home yesterday.
Fudge ripple or drug analysis.
"You're living in a dream world Gordon," I whisper to myself as I turn my wheelchair and head for the kitchen. There can't always be a criminal reason for everything people do. Some people are just evil or disturbed or even medically insane. Not everyone is out to get me.
"She's not insane," I whisper angrily at myself.
With fudge ripple in hand I transfer myself to the couch and stare at the blank TV.
I don't understand why Dinah hasn't been getting better. She knows we love her. She knows she's safe with us…or at least I hope she knows. It's not like I don't tell her I love having her here.
She couldn't possibly think that I only need her here because I need another hero around the house. One hero was enough, Dinah's just a bonus. When was the last time I actually told her I love her?
Maybe she's lonely.
"Maybe she's just completely nuts," I snort into my bowl. Stupid brain.
I spoon a glob of ice cream into my mouth and almost choke when I hear a soft thud behind me and Helena's voice in my ear. "Maybe you should just go and test the damn things before you make all of us crazy?"
"But…"
"No! No buts, if you don't go and do it the scientific way. I'll go and do it the Kyle way."
"Kyle way?"
"Yeah, I'll test the damn thing on myself and wait for a reaction."
"Helena!"
"What?" she says shyly from behind long brown bangs. "It works about 90 of the time you know and it's not like I've died yet."
"Yeah." I agree. "Yet."
Helena stands to full height and points to my lab. "Go."
"But…"
"Barbara," Helena says calmly, "If you use any more buts on me I'm going to have to do something drastic."
"Drastic?" I ask innocently with a not so innocent grin.
She raises her eyebrows, "spanking may be in order."
I consider that for a second. "But…"
Helena's mouth turns into a frown and she points to the lab again, "Go! Now!"
I throw a half grin at her and get back into my chair. I suppose she's right. It wouldn't hurt our collective sanity to check the pills.
