"Mr. Cobblepot! What inspired you to expand your business?" a reporter asked Oswald Cobblepot. He stood behind a podium on the steps in front of his new lounge at the back of his museum. I had to contain a chuckle when I realized he must have been standing on a box or something to be able to reach the microphones that reporters had placed there for him. A few thugs flanked him, dressed in their finest. The blue light of the neon sign illuminated them from behind: The Iceburg Lounge.
"I like to think I've built myself a reputation in this city as an enterprising individual," Penguin answered in his gravely, cockney voice. "My family has had a long-standing tradition of entrepreneurship in this great city, one that many of Gotham's elite can attest to."
"Yes, but your family declared bankruptcy over twenty years ago," Vicki Vale's voice interrupted him. His lips closed momentarily, and I could only imagine what sadistic thoughts he had for her. But he forced a smile with a turn of his head.
"That's all behind us now; the Cobblepot fortune is larger than ever, and I'm very excited to revel in that progress with Gotham's greatest," Cobblepot waved her away.
"You mentioned the opening night will be particularly lavish," a reporter from the Gotham Sun commented, and I couldn't help but notice her voice lifted as she asked, "care to reveal who might be on the guest list?"
"Only the finest," Cobblepot answered, though he smiled surreptitiously at the Gotham Sun reporter, "though I'm sure we can find a way to get your name on the list, Miss Carter."
"Here you go," Daniel said from behind me. I turned and grabbed the coffee from his hand with a smile, as he raised his cup to take a sip. "Hmm… who's that guy?" Daniel asked as he saw the news report I'd been watching.
"Oswald Cobblepot?" I said, though it was also a question.
"Should I know who that is?" Daniel asked me with a shake of his head and a smile.
"No," I shook my head as I brushed it off, taking the lid off my coffee and pouring some creamer in it. "He's, like… Gotham-famous, but he's no one really."
"Gotham-famous? What, like, LeBron James is Cleveland famous?" he shrugged.
"I think LeBron would be beyond insulted to learn that you just compared him to Oswald Cobblepot," I laughed back at him as I popped the lid back on my coffee.
"What's he famous for?" Daniel asked as he raised his cup for another sip.
"Um… being rich?" I said simply.
"Oh. So he's like Bruce Wayne famous?" he asked.
"Again. I think Bruce Wayne would be beyond insulted," I laughed. "Actually, probably more insulted than LeBron would be. I think their families are kind of historically… antagonistic." In reality, I knew their stories were far more than antagonistic. Cobblepot blamed the Wayne family, and specifically their sole heir Bruce, for the downfall of his family. But I didn't need to broadcast that I had done extensive research on the Cobblepot-Wayne feud; that was my evening job.
"Eh, who can keep up with all that tabloid drama," Daniel waved away as he put his arm around my shoulders and walked me out of the coffee shop. He had been finding ways to spend time with me every day; this was our tenth day in a row seeing each other. Most of the days, all I had time for was a quick coffee break, but even those breaks with him were nice. It was comforting to feel missed and to have someone that wanted to be with me, even if I was too embarrassed to let him meet my dad or see the inside of my apartment.
We walked past Gotham Square, sipping our iced coffees, making our way towards one of the small parks in the metro area. "How long do you think it'll take to finish all the construction?" Daniel asked me as he looked around the square. Even on the weekends, crews were working on repairing the gorgeous fountain and filling holes in the sidewalks where Harley Quinn's explosives had caused damage.
"Probably only another week or two," I answered. "Though if they want the fountain to look like it used to, they'll probably need to bring in a professional artist."
"Damn shame," Daniel commented. "That fountain's been here for over a century. That terrorist couldn't have picked a less important place to blow up?" he asked. I smiled tightly up at him. "What?"
"I mean, if we're asking to rewrite history, shouldn't we just wish that she didn't attack anywhere? Or, more importantly, anyone?" I said, trying to keep the smile on my face so I wouldn't make him defensive.
"Well, yeah, of course," he answered, "but, you know, assuming we can't change the fact that there was an attack…"
"You'd prefer she blow up something newer?" I finished for him.
"I just have a thing for historic landmarks. Sue me," he smiled at me, inching closer to me with a playful smile. I took a sip of my coffee and tried to smile back, though I didn't feel that entertained. He changed the subject and he started talking about a movie adaptation of a movie he liked that was coming out, but I couldn't help tuning out. Last time I was in this square, I was facing down Harley Quinn. And I stopped a lot of damage; but there were still some victims of the attack in the hospital.
No fatalities, which was a miracle. But still.
"… and I'm realizing that you haven't heard a word I've said," Daniel finished his thought and withdrew his arm from around my shoulders. I blushed.
"Sorry," I said, brushing my hair behind my ear. "I was just distracted, is all."
"Is it because of what I said about the fountain?" Daniel asked self-consciously as he turned to me. "I'm sorry if that was offensive. You know, it's just a fountain. I… didn't know you'd be so sensitive about it." I nodded, biting my lower lip. Didn't realize I was being sensitive… "That… came off wrong too, didn't it?" he asked. I squinted up at him and nodded, smiling. "Sorry. I'm… ugggh," he groaned at himself. He grabbed my arm and led me to a bench on the fringe of the park we had arrived at. I smoothed under my dress as he sat me down next to him. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot…"
"You're not an idiot," I stopped him (though, he wasn't exactly the smartest guy in the world right now). "And I don't mean to make a big deal out of it, it's just…" I hesitated. Did I want to talk about this with him, or did I just want to brush it off and move on? I looked up at his eyes, which were patiently waiting for me to continue. He probably wouldn't let me brush it off. "I was… there," I said slowly, and when his eyes narrowed confusedly, I continued, "during the attack. I was there in the square."
"Oh my god," he said, and the ice in his cup rattled as he almost tipped the cup over in his lap.
"Careful," I said, grabbing the cup from his hands and putting it on the ground at our feet.
"You were- oh my god, I'm an idiot…" he said, his hands falling on my arm.
"No, you're not…"
"You were there? When it all happened? Jesus, are you okay? Were you hurt? What happened?" he asked frantically.
"I'm fine, Daniel… I…" I exhaled and recalled the story I had told my dad. "I was looking at the tiger cages when the first explosion happened. And there was this boy near me, he wasn't with his parents. So I just… grabbed him and ran. And we got away, and… that was it," I shrugged. "It's not a big deal…"
"Of course it is," he said, taking the coffee out of my hand, placing it hurriedly on the ground, and grabbing both of my hands in his. "God, you could have been killed. I can't believe this…"
"Daniel, it's okay…"
"And here I am wishing she'd blown up something else, when you could have been the one blown up," he blabbered. I felt guilty making him feel bad, when I truly didn't feel all that traumatized by the event- but I couldn't tell him that. His hands left my wrists and wrapped around me, pulling me close to him. He held me close to him, pushing my head into his chest as his chin rested on top of my head. My hands fell to his chest because there was nowhere else to put them.
We'd kissed and hugged before, but this hug was something different. The pressure of his hands on my body felt desperate, longing for me like he was afraid I'd evaporate. But I felt out of place; like a distant family member that I couldn't remember the name of had wrapped me in a hug. It was a nice hug, and very sweet- but it wasn't for me.
"We might never have met," Daniel said lightly as he held me close. I furrowed my brow.
"We met before the attack," I said, my cheek squished against his chest.
"But I might have never gotten a chance to know you, like really know you," he said, and he pulled away from me, "like I do now." My eyes fell off to this side as I reflected on the fact that he truly knew so little about me.
"Right," I said.
"Are you…" he started, his hands on my biceps as he kept me faced towards him, "do you want to talk about it?" I shrugged lightly.
"There's not a whole lot else to say," I replied. He shook his head, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He nodded to himself, then lowered his face to be even closer to mine.
"When you change your mind," he said, one of his hands coming to my cheek, "I'm here. And I want to listen." I tightened my lips and nodded, trying to appear grateful though I really felt bad for him. Poor guy thought I was repressing my trauma; what would he have done if he knew I was the one that single-handedly stopped the attack?
"Okay," I answered. He leaned in close to me and pressed his forehead against mine, which provoked an embarrassed chuckle from me. "Why don't we keep walking?" I suggested, eager to change the subject. I was sure he attributed the abrupt shift to my discomfort with dealing with my trauma, but I really felt bad misleading him. He smiled and nodded, and we grabbed our coffees and continued our walk around the park. The rest of the afternoon was quiet and sweet, like any of our other dates, though I couldn't lift the discomfort of the conversation we'd had.
He offered to drive me home but I waved away the offer and told him I'd take the train. "I owe my friend Colleen a visit, she's way out of the way," I explained. He walked me instead to the Urbarail station and pulled me into a hug in front of the turnstiles.
"Tomorrow?" he asked. "Can I buy you dinner?"
"Let me check in with my dad," I answered, "feel like I owe him a meal."
"We can invite him along," he suggested. I pulled out of the hug.
"You want to take my dad to dinner?" I clarified. He shrugged.
"Yeah… I mean, that's what you do, right? When you're with someone you care about? You meet the parents," he said. I nodded and pursed my lips, realizing this guy was moving much faster than I was.
"Let me think about it," I said with a nod.
"Is everything okay…"
"Yeah," I waved and tried to keep him calm, "it's great, I just… let me think about it." I smiled and kissed his cheek, hoping it would be mollifying for the time being. As I pulled away, he reached down and kissed me on the mouth, far more passionately than I'd expected. His hands left my hands and grabbed onto my back, keeping me close. I put my hands on his chest, applying just enough pressure that he knew I was ready to pull out of the kiss. His lips left mine, but his hands remained on my back in embrace.
"I'll see you tomorrow, gorgeous," he said with a smile. I smiled back, putting a hand on his cheek, then pulled out of his hold.
On the train north, I sent Colleen a text that I was coming over to hang out, then Alfred a text that I could meet him at the Grand Avenue Urbarail stop for pick up. Bruce was out all day playing the role of millionaire playboy, which left Dick and I plenty of time to work on training Jason. Dick had been working with him all morning; it was my turn.
I deboarded the train above Grand Avenue, I went to the base of the station to find not a black town car waiting for me but a familiar bike. Dick was waiting for me in jeans and a button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up, an extra helmet in his hands. We made eye contact and I couldn't help but feel exasperated as I gestured down at my dress.
"Alfred couldn't come?" I asked. He raised his eyebrows and turned back to his bike.
"Nice to see you too," he said. I dropped my shoulders as I approached the bike.
"I didn't mean it like that. I'm in a dress, Dick," I groaned, grabbing the helmet from his hands as I knew this was the only way we were getting back to the manor.
"He was busy," Dick said, straddling his bike.
"Doing what?" I groaned as I fastened the helmet on my head.
"Taping Jason's ankle," Dick answered, and I froze.
"Is he…"
"He's fine."
"What happened?" I asked as I pulled my hair back over my shoulders and into a low ponytail that would keep it from tangling too much.
"Sparring," Dick answered, starting the bike. I carefully grabbed my dress and tucked it under my legs as I straddled the bike behind Dick. "His foot slipped. No big deal."
"So, I guess I won't be doing any physical training today," I said as I ensured my dress would stay in place.
"Though it would've been fun to watch you spar in that outfit," he said. Before I could scold him, he started the bike and my hands found his hips for stability. The bike was too loud to talk as we drove over the bridge leading from Miagini to the mainland. We drove out of the busy noise of the city into the quiet forests surrounding Gotham, and the bike ride became immensely peaceful. The breeze climbed my legs and pushed under my dress. I dared not move my hands from Dick's hips, even if it was all I could think about.
When we arrived at the mansion, Dick parked in the massive garage filled with fine cars and motorcycles. "Thanks for getting me," I said after I removed my helmet and let my hair down again.
"Of course," he said, looking me up and down before turning away. He led me into the mansion silently. We found Jason in the large den, his foot propped up on the couch with an icepack wrapped to it, watching a news report.
Bruce Wayne was walking in his fine suit with two elderly businessmen and one trophy wife out of a fine restaurant as Vicki Vale was pursuing him. "Bruce Wayne, Oswald Cobblepot shared explicitly that you will not be invited to the opening of his new Iceburg Lounge. Do you care to share a comment?" Vicki pressured him. Bruce smiled over his shoulder at Vicki as his Lamborghini pulled in front of the restaurant by the valet.
"I'm sorry, who are we talking about here?" he laughed.
"Oswald Cobblepot, whose family has notoriously rivaled your own throughout Gotham's history," Vicki reminded him. Bruce's eyes rolled up in his head as if he were lost in thought, then returned to Vicki with a shake of his head.
"No, I think you're mistaken. I don't believe I know any Coddlepots," Bruce said as the valet returned with his keys.
"Cobblepots," Vicki corrected him, "but do you have any comments on not receiving an invitation to the opening of what is seeming to be the hottest new lounge in Gotham?"
"Miss Vale, lounges open and close all the time. I'm sure I'll make my way there at some point. I look forward to meeting Mr. Coddlepot," Bruce said, then waved kindly at the camera before ducking into his car.
"Coddlepot," Jason laughed to himself. "Penguin's gonna shit himself."
"Alright, enough TV time," Dick said to Jason as he leaned over the couch and grabbed the remote, clicking off the screen. "Time to get back to it."
"Alfred said I need to rest?" Jason reminded Dick as he twisted back to face us. "Hey Batgirl."
"Hey Jason," I smiled.
"How was your daaa-aaate?" he asked me in a sing-song voice, though his eyes darted teasingly at Dick as he sang it.
"You sure you can't spar? I'd love to kick your ass," I smiled back at him.
"Come on. We'll start on the computers," Dick insisted, tossing the remote just out of Jason's reach to motivate him to get up. Dick and I beat Jason to the Batcave, as he needed to refresh his icepack before joining us, and we decided we'd focus our efforts on Sample X.
"We can work on an antidote, teach Jason how to synthesize this stuff remotely. That's a task Batman always outsources," Dick explained, his bitterness not so subtle.
"Scarecrow will change his recipe," I reminded Dick as I pulled up the Sample X compound.
"And when he does, whatever antidote we build with Jason now can prime us for the revisions he makes," Dick responded. "It'll shorten the length of time we need to create the antidote, which could save lives."
"Smart," I acknowledged as I opened the software necessary. We were quiet a long moment.
"Another date with Daniel, huh?" Dick asked. My jaw tensed and I felt heat in my cheeks. I turned to Dick with tight lips and nodded lightly. He smiled tightly back and nodded. "That's good. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks," I said, my gaze dropping.
"Let's do this," Jason called as he hobbled into the Batcave. Jason and I spent some time on the computers, focusing our efforts on an antidote. I could have done the work at least 40% faster, but we still managed to formulate the antidote in a bit less than an hour.
"How do we know if it works?" Jason asked as we saved the antidote to our Scarecrow files.
"Well, we ran a simulation that shows it's 97% effective," I reminded him, "but we'll really know if he attacks and we save lives."
"We just have to wait?" Jason asked.
"In this case, yes… we just have to wait," I said, crossing my arms as I watched the monitor spinning the Sample X compound onscreen.
"You figure it out?" Dick asked as he approached.
"Yep," Jason answered. "As close as we're getting, anyway."
"Good," Dick answered, reaching a bag out to me.
"What's this?" I asked as I took the bag.
"For what's next," Dick said, turning to Jason. I opened the bag to see leggings, a sports bra, and a tank top. "Time to hit the mats."
"I can't spar, dumbass, my ankle…"
"I wasn't talking about you, clueless," Dick sniped back at Jason as I turned back to him. "Your job isn't fighting. Your job is to analyze the fighters." Jason screwed his face up in confusion.
"But I know how you two fight, I fight you all the time…"
"But you don't know how to use the AR analysis yet," Dick reminded him. "I want you in the booth, watching our mechanics and getting sharp with the equipment so you can use it in real time."
"That sounds immensely boring," Jason groaned.
"You're welcome," Dick said, turning his chair and helping him stand as he looked up at me. "Sound good?" he asked. I nodded.
"Yeah, let me go change," I said as I looked down at my dress. I slipped into the clothes that Dick had brought for me, knowing it all likely came from a stock of clothing that Alfred had stashed in the bedroom designated for me upstairs. When I returned to the AR chamber, Dick had set Jason up with all the necessary tools and tricks to run diagnostics on our movements.
"Ready?" I asked Dick as I threw the bag holding my dress and phone on the floor.
"Yeah," Dick answered, taking a side-step away from Jason as he watched him over his shoulder. "Pay attention. We'll try a few different styles in there."
"Sure," Jason said, fidgeting with a dial on the dashboard. He smiled sneakily to himself. "Careful in there, Barbara. Wouldn't want your boyfriend getting jealous," Jason poked. Dick turned away from him with his eyes rolled back and he shook his head. He trudged past me, and I couldn't help but freeze in frustrated confusion. Why did he look so annoyed? I followed him out and into the main AR chamber.
"He's just screwing with me. Ignore him," I said as Dick stretched his wrists.
"No, he's screwing with me," Dick said off-handedly. I furrowed my brow.
"What?" I asked. Dick turned back to face me.
"Nothing. You ready?" he asked, lowering in his fighting stance. I let out a breath, trying to let it go, and shook my hands out.
"Where do you want to start?" I asked.
"Jiu Jitsu," Dick said, then rushed me. He punched, then crossed as I blocked both. A kick went up that I dodged, then he moved in close for another jab. I wrapped my arms around him and dropped my weight towards the ground, flipping him over me in a move that flattened him on the ground. He released a gust of breath as he hit.
"Sorry," I panted out.
"Don't," he flinched, hurrying back to his feet. I scurried up as well, raising my hands in a fighting stance. His eyes were narrow and his face looked red.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Come at me," he ordered me. Something was off, I could feel it. There was some emotion behind all this, and I didn't feel comfortable sparring with it between us. But I did as he directed. I rushed him and went in for a punch. His body turned with the movement of my arm and he grabbed around my shoulders. He made a move to sweep my leg and bring me to the ground, but I anticipated it and allowed him to carry my weight down as my legs came up. I flipped over his arm, landing in front of him, then grabbed him by his collar and rolled him back over me. He anticipated my move and put his arms out as I pulled him down, cartwheeling out of the grip. I hurried back to get vertical as quickly as I could, but I didn't have the time. On my knees, he came at me with a kick to my chin, which I blocked with the heel of my hand. He came again with an elbow striking down at my eye level, but I caught his elbow between my arms, locked my fingers, and pulled him down the ground at my ankles.
"Good one," I said as I released him, getting back to my feet. He panted as he popped back onto his feet.
"Krav Maga," he ordered. I could feel my stomach turn; something didn't feel right.
"Hold on," I said, "Dick, what's wrong?"
"Krav Maga," he said again, coming towards me. He put his hands out as if to grab me, and I smacked the wrists away and got out of his linear path.
"Dick, wait," I said, but he kept coming at me. As he punched towards me, I turned out of his path as if I were moving through water. "Dick, stop," I said as I dodged a kick, but I could see the intensity in his face that he wanted to keep coming for me. I grabbed his clavicle and pushed him off balance, not quite knocking him down but certainly knocking him off his guard. "Stop. What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" he repeated. "Nothing's wrong with me, Barb. So come on. Taekwondo," he directed me, lowering back into his fighting stance. But I could see how distracted he was in his eyes.
"You're pissed. What are you angry about?" I asked.
"I'm not angry!" he shouted, and rushed me and one kick came up, then another, and another. He was driving me backwards and I'd hit wall soon. My brain wasn't able to formulate the best taekwondo response to his attack; I could only think of natural responses. I ducked under one of his kicks and shot my leg out, tripping him mid attack. He flattened on his back and I could hear the wind fly out of him. I threw my weight forward and leaned over him nonthreateningly.
"Dick," I said softly, and he panted as he caught his breath. "You're clearly angry. What did I do?" He rolled away from me quickly, but took his time coming to his feet.
"You didn't do anything," he said. I shook my head, shrugging my arms.
"Then what is it?" I asked. His eyes darted over to the window, behind which Jason was watching us. "Jason?" I asked. "You're this pissed because he's… bugging me about Daniel?"
"Yeah. Daniel," Dick said, walking in a small circle around the chamber. "Fucking Daniel…" he thought aloud, as if a longer sentence was coming but he stopped himself.
"This is about Daniel?" I snapped, stepping forward suddenly defensive. "What the hell do you have to be pissed about when it comes to Daniel?" He stopped walking and his gaze darted up to me almost viciously, as if I had just poured salt in his wound.
"Nothing," he said, lowering in a fighting stance. "Muay Thai…"
"No-no-no," I waved my hand in front of myself, refusing to let the subject drop. "What did Daniel do to piss you off?"
"Daniel didn't do anything," Dick said, trying to keep his hands raised for combat.
"So it's what I did?" I clarified, suddenly feeling more ready for a fight.
"Well, it's not what Jason did!" Dick snapped at me. I rushed him, suddenly livid. I released a kick that he caught against his side, and he grabbed my opposite shoulder and kneed me in the stomach. I pulled back and got some space. He came at me with a punch to the obliques and I caught the fist, trapping him in what could have been a close embrace, but I turned and threw his weight to the side so hard that we both nearly fell.
"You have no right to be mad at me!" I shouted back at him. "You led me on for weeks, and you had a girlfriend!" He had no answer, but he shook his head. "What? Nothing to say?" I bit as I rushed him. Fighting styles were out the window; I was throwing punches and kicks and grabs wherever I could. I lost control of myself in the fight; I wasn't striking to hurt him, but I lost control of the flow of our bodies. I was lost in my emotions. That's how Dick got the better of me and whirled me to the ground, flattening me on my back. I released a groan of pain as I slammed against the floor, my breath forced out of me.
"Barb…" Dick started, his voice softer than before as he leaned over me. I scissored my legs up and wrapped them around him, flipping him onto his back as I caught my breath and straddling over him, my hands on his collar.
"You don't get to be mad at me," I said quietly through strained breath, the air still returning to my lungs. "I get to be mad at you. You and Amy," I bit, but he twisted his arms to the side and I lost control, rolling onto my side. He rolled over me, my legs still straddled around him. I kept my hands tight on his collar, not willing to cede control yet, and he leaned over me with his hands behind my shoulders.
He looked ready to scream at me, but he stopped. His eyes scanned over my face, and his features softened. I kept my grip tight on his shirt, keeping myself elevated and my body close to his. I felt angry; and I felt like I was really being honest with him and with myself for the first time in weeks. Maybe he could see that. Or maybe it was something else. His eyes scanned over my face they same way they had that night out in front of the mansion, and I felt something leaving me; anger, resentment, my defenses.
"She's not my girlfriend," Dick said quietly. "She's my partner." My grip lessened on his shirt and my weight dropped towards the floor. His partner? As in, with the Bludhaven police department?
"But..." I started, remembering the clear date that was set up the night Jason and I had come to his apartment.
"It wasn't for her," he interrupted me with a shake of his head. I understood now; he'd set that date up for me- but when Jason had surprisingly accompanied me, he'd panicked and pretended it wasn't for me. Amy coming over was just some coincidence; she'd never been anyone important.
That's why Amy winked at me at the Bludhaven Police Department; that's why he'd tried to talk to me that day outside the library; this whole time, none of it was meaningless.
My legs relaxed around him and my heels dropped to the ground. My hands on his collar were placed just so that I could either pull myself up to him or him down to me in a kiss. My eyes scanned his face. He wasn't flirting or angry or even hopeful; he looked sad.
The door to the AR chamber opened and limping feet hurried into the room. "Guys," Jason called to us. Dick looked up past me, and as he moved a drop of sweat fell from his hair onto my cheek. I felt too overwhelmed by this realization to look at Jason just yet; I didn't want Dick to move. I wanted him to stay exactly where he was, over me, around me. I wanted Jason to go away. "Barbara, your phone," Jason called over to me, which finally caught my attention. I turned my chin up to him. "It's an alert from the Batcomputer," Jason explained, looking down at my phone.
Dick and I got up as if nothing had happened, hypnotized by this news. I hurried and grabbed it from his hand, unlocking the screen. My eyes grew wide and my gaze darted between Jason and Dick. "Harley Quinn's been released from federal custody."