Batgirl
Barbara Gordon. Fifteen years old. Slender, petite build; lustrous, flame-red hair, with a wild little kick to the body of it; glittering jade eyes. Smart, pretty, athletic.
She's not Tom Brady, but she sure can run; she's not Bruce Lee, but she can break a brick or two.
She's Commissioner Gordon's daughter; and soon, she'll be Batgirl.
But the inspiration, and the notion, hasn't struck her yet, so for the moment, she's plain old fifteen year old Babs Gordon.
"Now, you know everything, Miss Gordon?" Alfred asks, taking up his umbrella as he stands at the door.
She nods and smiles.
"Yeah, I got everything. We'll be fine. I'll look after Dick."
Alfred nods.
"Very well – I trust that you will not run into any problems. Again, I am sorry for the short notice. Master Bruce has been called away on urgent business, and I have a few errands I must run on his behalf. I may not be back until late tonight, and I do not feel comfortable leaving Master Dick here all by himself."
"Don't sweat it," Barbara grins. "Any time."
"Indeed." Alfred raises an eyebrow at the former expression and leaves, going out against the evening rain with his black umbrella acting as an ineffective shield.
"So…" Barbara closes the door and turns to Dick Grayson, who is sitting at the foot of the staircase with his chin resting in his hands. "…Just you and me, huh?"
He merely gives a silent, sullen nod. It's not that he doesn't like her, but…
He's thirteen. She's fifteen. Only two years older than him.
And she's his babysitter.
"Is this how they do it? Masked vigilantes. Once stitch at a time until the costume makes you into your future?" – Barbara Gordon, Batgirl: Year One (Chuck Dixon)
Stitch by stitch by stitch.
My hands and eyes ache; a few of my fingers bleed from the needle. But I smile as it begins to take shape, because – stitch by stitch – I am creating my own legacy.
I know I can do this; and I'm as entitled as anyone to do this. After all, why should Batman and Robin have all the fun? It's not just that, though. I read the papers, and I've read about some of the terrible crimes going on right here in Gotham City. Batman and Robin are good at what they do, but they're only two people, and they can't do it all. I know I can make a difference.
I hold it up, half-finished, to the light; and I smile broader.
As, stitch by stitch, Batgirl is born.
"Do you think he hates me?"
Robin lowered his binoculars, turning towards Batgirl with an expression of puzzlement on his face.
"Does who hate you?" He asked, brushing his hair out of his masked eyes. It was getting too long, and the chill-bladed wind wasn't helping.
"You should gel it," she suggested, sidelining.
"Uh huh." His eyes narrowed. "Babs."
Batgirl twisted her yellow-gloved fingers together awkwardly.
"…Batman," she said finally, her voice quiet and abashed.
"Oh, of course he doesn't hate you!" Robin replied irritably. "I mean, you get to be Batgirl. I didn't get to be Batboy."
She giggled a little, swinging her feet in their yellow go-go boots. They were sitting on the roof of the cathedral, scouting for Two-Face's men, while Batman himself was busy tracking down the villainous, deranged Harvey Dent.
"Would you have wanted to be Batboy?" She asked lightly, tossing her fiery hair back.
"No, but you're missing the point." Robin raised his binoculars again. "The point is that he far from hates you, Babs."
"That doesn't make sense," Batgirl chided. "Look, I just said it, because… you know, now that I know the reason he does all this… I never imagined that this whole "Batman" thing was so important to him, that it was because of his parents… And I took his image, and… I don't know, it feels like I sort of demeaned it. You know what I mean?
Robin nodded.
"Yeah, but… Barbara, trust me; if he'd been that displeased by your "demeaning" of his image, you'd be breathing through a hole in your neck. For him to not only tolerate your being Batgirl, but to let you be Batgirl alongside us… no." Robin shook his head with a small smile. "He doesn't hate you, Babs. Not at all."
She grinned.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Besides…" Robin finally put down the binoculars, leaning across towards her. "…I like having you on the team. Bruce is a great guy, but not very talkative."
Barbara smirked knowingly at him.
"Is that the only reason, Boy Wonder?"
"W-well," he stammered, "I mean, you're obviously good… you know, at fighting and stuff, so that really helps us out a lot, a-and…"
"Oh, come on." Batgirl leaned in close to him, fluttering her thick eyelashes mockingly. "Jackie Chan is good at 'fighting and stuff'. There must be something else that makes it cool with Daddy Bats for me to be around…"
Robin pulled a face.
"Ugh, Babs! He's way older than you!"
"I know, I know," Batgirl chuckled, waving it off. "I was just kidding. But let's not forget, Dick… that I'm older than you."
"Yeah." He looked away briefly; she was still leaning in and over him, grinning away. Their lips were so close together that one little nudge upwards would be all he needed…
"And obviously more mature," she went on with a little laugh, suddenly backing up from him.
"What that's supposed to mean?" He barbed; his cheeks beginning to tint pink because Batgirl leaning right over him like that had left his crotch feeling uncomfortably tight, and…
"Down, boy," she gasped, helpless with giggles as he blinked and looked down, then muttered something profane and huffily drew his cape around himself.
"Babs," he snapped.
"Yeah?"
"I hate you."
Years later, he would come to know her as his first love.
Barbara Gordon; Batgirl; Oracle. Her dreams were stolen from her in a fire-branded instant and shattered on the ground; shards of rainbow, glimmering but unfixable.
Yes, before Starfire, there was Barbara. And after Starfire, there was Barbara.
Their first kiss was fluke; impulsion. Their 'relationship' was steady, tentative, sweet. They never got very far, certainly not really very much beyond kissing, but it was the type of relationship where that was okay.
He was too young; and she was too unsure.
They never made it a public announcement; and never told Batman. He knew, though, because he was Batman, and because Batman knew everything.
It wasn't something he seemed very happy about. There could have been a thousand reasons why, but they never asked, and he never told them. He seemed to silently blame Barbara more, maybe because she was the newcomer, or because she was female, or because she was older than Dick.
Maybe Bruce was jealous that Dick seemed to prefer Barbara's company more than his, when he was the one who had taken him in and trained him in the first place; maybe their closer ages made him feel left out. Maybe he was afraid that Barbara would steal Dick away, and he'd be left on his own again.
Maybe, in the end, it was because of Barbara that Dick eventually left Gotham.
Then there was Starfire; and Barbara was maybe something he had once dreamt about. Maybe a dream with an occasional wet sheets consequence – but a dream all the same.
But things change; and truer words were never said. Starfire was a princess, but that didn't mean she grew up to have a fairytale ending, married to her prince.
And sometimes now, from beyond the glass, Nightwing would sit in the dark morning hours, on Barbara's outer windowsill, and watch her sleep; the silhouette of her wheelchair dark and sharp against the pale walls of her room, and her flame red hair a wild and tousled halo around her head.
Maybe she was all the rainbow he had left.
Yeah, it kind of skips around a little, I guess, at least time zone-wise. Heh. I'm almost done with this, and it'll have nine chapters when I'm done.
It's mostly linear to the animated DCU, but… I'm not sure where they stand on Oracle. Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker showed Barbara as Commissioner Gordon II or something…
Thanks to: Guardian of Azarath, AlsoSprachOdin, Stargirl7, YourPerfectDisaster, LoopyLouise123, dlsky, and Jordancatgirl7. All reviews are appreciated, since this isn't the most innovative of fan fictions…
We're beginning to in a more Teen Titans direction from now on, so…
Yayz!
RR xXx