"I can't believe you talked me into this," I said.
"I'm right and you know it," Babs called back to me.
"Yeah, well, I'm ditching work for this," I said. "So it better not be a waste of time."
"He wouldn't turn away warriors of justice," She said.
"We're hardly warriors," I said. "Just last week you had your arm nearly shot off."
Fox Manor was almost as extravagant as Wayne Manor, maybe even more so because of it's modernization. As the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox wasn't exactly lacking in funds. He was supposed to be retired, the wrath of Bane and almost being sentenced to an icy grave had their toll on him, but everyone knew he still consulted with the company as if he still ran in it. He, however, resided in his home, hardly leaving and we couldn't exactly have his butler relay the message that we were in need of information and weapons, so there we were.
"Ready?" Babs asked, her hand hovering over the doorbell.
"Got my badge just in case," I replied.
Babs pressed the small square button and the elegant doorbell rang throughout the house. An awkward moment later and the door swung open, a young girl, perhaps Babs' age, standing before us.
"May I help you?" She asked.
"Yes, actually," Babs said. "We're here to see Lucius Fox."
"Are you now?" The girl scoffed. "The only people who come to see my father are Jacob Adler and Jim Gordon."
"Barbara Gordon at your service," Babs said, holding out her hand.
The girl ignored it, "Do you have an appointment?"
"Actually, no. But-"
"Then, I'm sorry," The girl interrupted. "My father doesn't see anyone without an appointment."
I pulled my badge out, holding it up for her, "Detective Dick Grayson. We'd like to see your father please."
"Is he under arrest?" She asked.
"Not just yet," I said.
"Well, unless you have a warrant, I'm sorry but I just can't help you," She said.
Babs leaned towards the girl, lowering her voice, "We're friends of Bruce Wayne."
The girl raised an eyebrow, "Just a minute."
The door close again in our faces, "What is it with these rich people thinking they're above the law."
"Well you don't have a warrant," Babs reminded me.
"I'm just saying," I said. "Most people do whatever I say the second they see the badge."
"Well, I mean she is Lucius Fox's daughter," Babs said. "Did you really expect her to freeze up the second she saw your creds?"
"She was his daughter?" I asked.
"Duh," Babs said. "She looks just like him."
"Hmm," I considered. "You think she knows?"
"Don't underestimate the daughters of powerful men," She said. "We're a very nosy breed."
"I'll say,"
"My father has agreed to see you," His daughter said once she opened the door again. "But keep it short. He doesn't have time to waste on nonsense."
Tam (That was her name) led us up to Lucius Fox's office. The inside of the Manor was just as beautiful as the outside. Columns and carved adornments in every archway, dark cherry wood railings and matching floors, expensive, rare artwork on the walls. Fox wasn't really a man known for his subtlety, which made him sort of an unlikely ally for the Batman, but I supposed everyone had their secrets.
"Just through there," Tam told us, pointing to two large, white, French doors at the end of the hall.
Babs nodded her thanks and led the way to the doors. Upon entering Lucius Fox was leaning against his desk, dressed in a fine suit, awaiting our arrival. He raised a knowing eyebrow at me because he'd seen me before and was probably confused by my presence.
"Mr. Fox, I'm-"
"Barbara Gordon," Fox interrupted. "I know. The commissioner's daughter. And John Blake."
"Dick Grayson, sir," I corrected. "John Blake was an alias given to me by the boys' home I grew up in."
"Dick Grayson," He said. "What can I do for you two?"
"We've come to discuss something with you," Babs said. "About your affiliation with Bruce Wayne."
"Have a seat," Fox offered, taking a seat in the desk chair and gesturing to the two armchairs before the desk. "Why this sudden interest in Gotham's most famous millionaire? Almost two years after his death."
"We believe you might have… information," Babs said.
"Information about what?" He asked.
"Mr. Wayne's private comings and goings," I said.
"Now why would I know that?" Fox asked.
"Well you were very close with him," Babs said. "He left his empire to you."
"Bruce Wayne was a very private man," Fox told us. "Just like his father. I knew his business strategies. Nothing more."
"Yes," Babs agreed. "But we were wondering just how deep does your knowledge go about his business strategies."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Fox said.
"The Applied Sciences unit of Wayne Enterprises," I said. "You were head of that department, were you not?"
"I was," Fox said. "I don't see why that's relevant."
"That department was shut down some nine years ago, right?" I asked.
"Yes,"
"Why?"
"It was a wasteful and unprofitable department," Fox said. "When Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham he went through his father's company, weeding out the useless and restoring it to its former glory. He could have fired me, but instead he moved me to a higher position with better pay. Is that a crime officer?"
"No, sir," I said. "But none of the technology created or started in the department was destroyed or moved. It was all just left as it was. Forgive me for thinking that's a little suspicious."
"Bruce Wayne thought that perhaps one day, when profits were low and Wayne Enterprises needed new material he would reopen the department," Fox said. He didn't want the new head of the department to have to start from scratch."
"And how did you feel about that, Mr. Fox?" I asked. "Your life's work, your dream, just being forgotten like that? How could you let Bruce Wayne cut your work short for nothing but the sake of money?"
"Dick," Barbara warned.
"You'll find that Bruce Wayne lived for little else than the sake of money and prosperity," Fox said. "I admired his drive and ambition and thought perhaps I could make use of myself through other means."
"Bruce Wayne might not have cared for anything but money," Babs said. "But perhaps there was someone else…?"
"I'm not sure I understand the point of this meeting," Fox said. "I am not telling you anything you don't already know and I am an old man. I don't have any time to waste, so I will cut right to the chase; what does any of this information mean to a rookie detective and the commissioner's daughter?"
"Everyone else seems to have just accepted Bruce Wayne's death as a war crime committed by Bane, but we think otherwise," Barbara said. "We believe his connection goes deeper than that."
"How do you mean?" Fox asked.
"We believe that Bruce Wayne had much more involvement than just being Gotham's most eligible bachelor," Babs said. "And we were hoping you could confirm it for us."
"You want to take over for the Batman," Fox said, surprising us all.
Babs said yes as soon as I said no.
"Babs!" I scolded.
"He knows, Dick," She said. "It's what we came here to find out."
"I'm assuming your father told you," Fox said. "About Bruce Wayne's- ahem- alternate identity."
"You assume correctly," Babs said.
"And you," Fox said, looking to me. "Did the commissioner tell you as well? Or did Bruce Wayne himself?"
"A little of both," I replied.
"It won't be an easy job," Fox told us.
"We aren't looking for easy," Babs said.
"That is exactly what I wanted to hear, Miss Gordon," Fox said. "Now, if you'll step into my office…"
A shift of a paperweight later and the entire shelved wall to our left slid away, revealing a big, open, concrete room filled with electronics and gadgets galore. Lucius Fox led the way and Babs and I followed him into the secret room.
"This," Fox said. "Is the material I used to make the batman's suit; its bulletproof, tear-resistant, lightweight, water proof and, most importantly, black. But I've since developed a newer, better fabric."
"Better than black?" Babs teased.
"Very much so, Miss Gordon," Fox said. "It looks and feels like cotton, but when put up against any kind of momentum it becomes instantly as tough as steel. Not to mention it'll leave you unharmed. No bumps, no bruises."
"Very nice," Babs said, taking the square of fabric from him. "Can you make a suit out of it?"
"I can make anything out of it," Fox said. "But that's not all."
"What we really need, Mr. Fox," I said. "Is a tracking device."
"A tracking device?" Fox and Babs asked together.
"Why?" Babs continued.
"Because when they strike again- and they will-" I said. "We need to have a way to find out where they're coming from."
"Who are 'they?'" Fox asked.
"We're not exactly sure," Babs said. "They attacked the event hall and the robbed the museum and bombed the bank, but we don't know exactly who they are."
"So I'm not the only one who thinks they're all the same culprit," Fox said.
"Indeed you're not," I said. "That's the whole reason Babs wanted to track you down."
"So this was your idea," Fox said to Babs.
"There isn't anyone else I'd want to be our ally," Babs told him.
"The same to you, Miss Gordon," He said. "The same to you. If you follow me I can show you what I've got in terms of tracking devices. The batman never had much use for them- he preferred to go after his suspects blind- but I kept them around just in case. It seems my instincts were correct."
"We don't want to be exactly like the batman anyway," Babs said as he let us through his maze of gadgets.
"Oh?" Fox asked.
"We feel as though what Gotham needs isn't a new batman, just a new guardian," I said.
"And that's you two?" He asked. He had a sort of way of speaking that was both condescending and admiring at the same time.
"Who better?" Babs said. "A policeman and a librarian. The perfect team."
Fox laughed, "Bruce Wayne was nothing more than an orphaned rich kid. If anything is true it's that you don't have to be extraordinary to become a hero."
The more time we spent at Fox Manor the more Babs loved it and the more I hated it. Had Lucius not been about 80 years old he and Barbara would've made a good match. I'd never seen people get so excited about technology before and I couldn't help but feel like a third wheel. The extent of my tech skills went only as far as my handgun.
Fox did have quite a display of weapons, which I found rather intriguing, but I always got a disapproving look from Babs when I indulged in it. "The Batman didn't use weapons," she would say. Only weird, portable, complicated toys, apparently.
Babs always had more time to spend there than I did because as far as I knew she was only taking a few classes at the university and there were always other nerds to run the library. I, on the other hand, had an actual job and people who were already suspicious of my whereabouts to worry about. I told myself that was fine. It was Babs' idea to go see Fox in the first place so she could live there for all I cared.
But I did care.
On one particular day she had beat me there and I had let myself in (We both had keys now.) and made it past the glaring Tamara Fox only to find Babs in one of the bedrooms, stripped to her underwear and standing on a pedestal with her arms and legs spread out. I stopped short in the doorway, just staring.
"Uh…" I managed.
"Afternoon, detective," She said wryly. "If you're here to strip search me, that job's already been done."
"She's being measured for her suit," Fox said from a chair in the corner. "We could do yours as well if you please."
"Even if he doesn't please," Babs said. "I sure do."
"Suit?" I asked, clearing my throat and trying to look away from Babs' ass.
"So they don't know who you are of course," She said. "Would you like a cape as well? I'm getting one."
"A cape, Babs?" I rolled my eyes. "Why?"
"Batman had one," She reminded me.
"That's because the batman was a dramatic little rich boy who wanted people to notice him," Fox said, folding his newspaper. "I'd expect you two were looking for stealth."
"We are," I said, more to Babs than Fox.
"Stealth, smealth," Babs sighed. "I don't want people to think I'm just a cheap imitation. I want recognition."
"What's your superhero name then?" I asked. "'Girl Scout?'"
She stuck her tongue out at me before turning back and re-extending her arms to be measured. I took a seat in an armchair next to Fox. Babs finished her measuring and hopped down from the pedestal to collect her clothes.
"Didn't you say you were considering 'Batgirl?'" Fox asked.
"Considering," She repeated. "I'm not sure if I like it. It might be too… grandiose. Copycattish."
"Batgirl, eh?" I asked.
"Yeah," She said, jumping into her jeans. "I mean, I don't want to be a complete imitation, but if I'm too different people might question my motives. At least with 'Batgirl' they'll at least know that my intentions are good. I mean, I'll still have to do something substantial to get some respect, but that was expected from the beginning."
"What's all this 'I,' stuff?" I asked. "Last I checked we were still in this together, am I right?"
"You've gotta make your own image, buster," She said, finishing her dressing and tugging on my arm. "Starting with your suit. Now strip, boy wonder."
She succeeded in pulling me out of the chair and pushing me towards the fitter, taking my seat. I cocked an eyebrow at her, removing my suit jacket and loosening my tie.
"Boring!" Babs admonished. "Add a little flavor. We get very little excitement around here."
"So, not only am I no longer your partner, but now I'm your personal stripper as well?" I asked.
"Don't be ridiculous," Babs said. "You've always been my personal stripper."
"I think it would be best if we busied ourselves with other means, Barbara," Fox suggested. It was weird to hear someone address her by her full name.
"But…" Babs attempted to protest, but trailed off with a sigh and followed Fox out the door, throwing a wink my way.
"Where are you going?" I asked as Babs trotted down the stairs toward the door.
"Out," She replied, slipping her arms into a cropped jacket.
She was dressed in a tight green sweater that did its job a little too well and I skirt short enough for me to arrest her. I swallowed thickly as she pulled on and zipped up a pair of knee-high leather boots. She seemed completely oblivious to my arousal as she searched throughout the living room; probably for her keys.
"Out where?" I asked.
"It's just a party, daddy," She mocked. "I promise there will be no boys and adult supervision."
"It's Tuesday night," I told her.
"Yeah?"
"Where could you possibly be going on a Tuesday night, dressed like that?"
"I've got a date," She said,
I felt my jaw automatically tighten, "A date?"
"Yeah, it's this thing where two people of the opposite sex- well, not always- go out to dinner or a movie or walk in the park and then have a sloppy one night stand," She said. "At least by my standards. Christ, where are my keys?"
"Maybe you've forgotten," I said. "But there's a dangerous criminal out there. That, by your standards, we are required to stop."
"You're not gonna ground me are you?" She asked teasingly.
"I'm serious, Babs," I said, getting to my feet. "You can't be running around like a normal girl. You've got priorities."
"Alright, warden, chillax for a second," She said. "Last I checked we didn't even know who said criminal was and we had no leads. So unless you uncovered something substantial since the last time I saw you there is no reason for me to be cooped up here; doing nothing."
"We could be training," I said. "Or searching for evidence."
"We've examined every piece of evidence there is from top to bottom and back to front," She said. "If there were any clues we would have found them by now. And we're training tomorrow."
"We could train tonight and tomorrow," I said. I wasn't sure why I was so against her going out, but anger pulsed through my veins and I knew I couldn't let her out that door. "You need all the practice you can get."
"Look," She sighed, finally finding her keys and beginning to get frustrated with me. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: You're not my father. You do not control my life. I'm nineteen years old and if I want to go on a date I will. I haven't broken your training schedule and I've been at Lucius' all week. If anyone deserves a night off, it's me. Why don't you go do something too? We can both cut loose. Go have a one night stand with someone other than me for once."
"Babs," I said. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Well then I'm glad it's my life because if I had to live by your rules I'd be one bored son of a bitch," She said. "I am leaving now. Don't wait up."
Babs' back hit the training mat with a loud thunk for the fourth time that morning.
"Christ, Dick," She groaned. "Having a bad day?"
"Maybe you were just out too late last night," I said, not so nicely. "Off your game a bit."
She got to her feet, flyaway red hairs sticking to the sweat on her forehead, "I've been living on four hours of sleep since I was 15. Maybe you're just being a little too hard on me."
"And you think any criminals out there wont be?" I asked.
"What's your deal this morning?" She asked, a hand on her hip. "You've been strangely passive-aggressive lately."
"You've been pretty reckless lately," I shot back. "Too bad I can't say that's strange."
She raised an eyebrow at me, "What is it, Dick? Your cycle? Because I have some midol in my room."
"I've had it with your sarcasm," I said. "Get back to me when you grow up."
"Well, I've had it with your patronization," She called after me. "Why don't you get back to me when you take that stick out of your ass."
I didn't talk to Babs for the rest of the day, which was dumb because I was mad at her because I didn't get to see her. I was the one who picked the fight, I was the one who waited up, listening for her to come back even though it was entirely impossible to hear the front door from my room. I'd thought my days of staying up until ridiculous hours of the night with nothing but Barbara Gordon on my mind were over.
For some reason I didn't feel like I could come out of my room, mostly because I didn't know what I'd say to her once I did. I couldn't exactly explain to her why I was so hostile and I felt like an idiot for doing it in the first place. So I kept the door closed, just milling about until the sun went down.
Eventually my phone rang and I was glad for the distraction, but I wouldn't be for long.
"Grayson," I answered.
"Dick," Gordon's said, his tone urgent. "I need you down here."
I stood up abruptly, "What's happened, sir?"
"A break in," He said. "Jeweler's house. I guess they didn't expect the family to still be home and now we've got a hostage situation on our hands."
"I'm on my way," I said.
I dressed quickly in my suit, but my jacket was somewhere downstairs. I knew I'd have to go down there to leave, and I'd hoped I wouldn't run into Babs (Wayne Manor was a big place.), but now that I had to search for the jacket the chances of seeing her were heightened. After a few more seconds of pettiness I remembered I actually had a duty to do and exited my room.
It was strange, but I used to be a pretty neat guy. Neat as in clean, of course, but when Babs moved in I adopted her style of clutter and with it, a knack for leaving things around and then forgetting about it. When I made my way down the stairs I found myself in the living room and Babs asleep on the couch, her pillow on top of my jacket.
I cursed quietly to myself. Of course she'd be right on top of what I needed most when I was trying to avoid her. She wasn't even like a person most of the time; she was a force of nature in and of herself. Completely unavoidable.
She was still in her sports bra and workout pants so I was led to believe that she trained for a while more after our little spat. Maybe she was like me; she relieved her stress and pent up anger by beating the hell out of a punching bag. Sure, it was tiring, but it did the job. So maybe, if I were lucky (Fat chance.) she'd be too knocked out to notice me slipping the jacket out from under her.
As I pulled she stirred and I could do nothing, but cringe, as she sat up and blinked at me warily, "Dick?"
"Hey, Babs," I said.
"What are you doing?" She yawned, rubbing her eyes.
"I have to go," I said. "Your dad called."
"What?" She asked, suddenly alert and awake. "What happened?"
"A break in," I told her. "Apparently they're still inside, but I don't know much yet."
"It's late," She said. "This has got to be them. Do you think-"
"I don't know, Babs," I said. "I guess I'll just have to see."
"Let me go with you," She pleaded. "This could be our chance to nab them."
"It's police business, Babs," I said. "You can't come without raising suspicion."
"You can't handle them on your own," She told me. "You know what happened last time."
"Yes, I do know," I said. "But we don't have a choice. I'll try to call if there's a way for you to come down."
Babs bit her lip, "Okay, fine. But take this." She handed me a small electronic: Fox's tracking device.
"Be back as soon as I can," I said.
She caught my wrist before I could turn away, "Be careful. Please?"
"Always am," I replied.
It was a regular madhouse outside the Fontana Mansion. David Fontana started out working at the local jewelry store, but soon worked his way up and took control of the company, becoming almost as rich as Bruce Wayne himself. God knew what kind of trinkets he had hidden around his house and robbing him could turn out to be just as effective as robbing his very store. This was the first time, however, they had ever been in a position in which we could potentially catch them and Gordon had called in all the manpower we had.
SWAT teams, special forces, every cop in town, you name it, they were there. And then there was me, weaving through the crowd, through the flashing lights, to where Gordon and every detective he trusted or needed were standing in a semicircle. It felt weird, but rewarding, to be included.
"What's the situation?" I asked.
"They've asked for the usual," Gordon told me. "Let them get away with whatever they have and they won't touch Fontana and his family."
"So what do we do?"
"All attempts to get in are unlikely," Gordon said. "The house is a damn fortress and you saw how many guys there were at the ball."
"The ball?" Foley scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me. You can seriously believe these are the same perps."
"Why, yes, Lieutenant," Gordon said. "I do believe that. And you would do well to remember who your superiors are."
I stifled a laugh behind my hand, "So we've checked around the whole house? There's no way for them to get out without us knowing? These old mansions tend to have lots of weird secret entrances and exits."
"There isn't really a way to know for sure," Gordon said. "But we've got the whole house surrounded."
"What if it doesn't let out right outside the house?" I asked. "Has anyone checked those woods back there?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Grayson," Foley snorted. "This isn't Scooby Doo. There isn't gonna be some secret tunnel beneath the house for them to escape through."
"Maybe not," I said, gritting my teeth. "But there could be a getaway car, or more accomplices waiting out there. We could've walked right into another trap."
"Maybe you're right, Dick," Gordon said. "We should at least send a team out there."
"Are you kidding me, commissioner?" Foley demanded. "Don't buy into what this hothead is saying. He's gonna get even more of our men killed."
"Let me go, commissioner," I said. "I'll look for patterns."
"No, Dick," Gordon said. "I need you here with me. We'll send one of the SWATs out there."
"This can't be happening," Foley scoffed. "I know you've got a soft spot for this kid, but we've gotta think rationally about this."
I clenched my fists, trying to ignore Foley as best I could, "Commissioner, I need to be out there. I can't do anything from here. Please, sir, let me contribute."
"It's one thing to take orders from a first-rate detective, but to send him into action?" Foley said. "Come on, commissioner, grow a brain."
I don't remember much after my fist hit his jaw.
The woods were dark and cold as I trekked through them, my frozen breath fogging the air in front of me. I had my gun at the ready and my ears on high alert, waiting for even the slightest sign that there was someone out here. I knew it was a long shot that Fontana had a secret tunnel or something, but whomsoever was doing this had to have a plan B and I was going to find it and stop it before things got any worse.
I was freezing and pissed and I thought about calling Babs, but I figured she had the stealth of a water buffalo and by the time she got there I could've fixed the whole problem anyway, so I was left alone. I had the tracker from Fox in my pocket and I didn't know what I was going to do with it, but better safe than sorry.
The further I went into the forest the more I wanted to turn around and the more I suspected that my theory was bullshit. It was nothing but cold and dark and hopeless, but I figured I hadn't hit Foley for nothing and kept going.
Eventually the light between the trees began to intensify and I was deposited onto an old dirt road, probably forgotten years ago. I pulled my gun from the holster inside my jacket and ducked back behind the trees. If this new threat had found the road they could be crawling all over back here, waiting for the spoils of their latest victory.
I weaved my way through the first row of trees, eyes peeled and ears pricked for any sign of life out there. As I went further down the road I began to see moonlight glinting of some shiny surface. I quieted my gait all the more, creeping through the grass until a sleek black van came into view. I could see no one around it, but it was surely their getaway car and there had to be someone waiting for his comrades to return.
The tracking device was heavy in my pocket. I knew I should just stick it on the bottom of the van and book it, but I itched for a fight. Punching Foley had only stoked my anger and those terrorist scum deserved everything I could throw at them. I cocked my gun, but Babs' voice ricocheted through my head, reminding me that killing wasn't justice. Especially when it was a sneak attack.
I ground my teeth and stuffed my gun back in its holster. Goddamn redhead, getting in my head all the time. The tracking device didn't look impressive in any way, and maybe that was the point, but it just seemed so anticlimactic to skirt across the street, stick it under the bumper and run. My previous conception of justice was that it was big and loud and violent, but maybe the reality was much more subtle. I'd always paid attention to the Batman's huge displays of justice; kicking ass and getting results, but I never considered that that was only half his job.
When I got home Babs was pacing in the Wayne Manor foyer, biting her nails.
"Where have you been?" She demanded. "I thought you were dead."
"It look a little longer than expected," I replied.
"What happened?" She asked. "Did they get away?"
"I don't know," I told her.
"How do you not know?" She asked. "You were there weren't you?"
"I got kicked out," I grumbled.
"What? Why?"
"They tend to frown on it when you punch your lieutenant in the jaw," I said.
"What?"
"I had to get away," I said. "Get the tracker in place. Foley was in my way."
"Foley?" She asked. "You punched Carl Foley in the face?"
"Did you want me to let them get away?"
"What even happened?" She asked.
"He got in the way, I hit him, I got suspended, I put the tracker-"
"You got suspended?"
"They don't just give you a slap on the wrist when you hit a superior officer, Babs."
"They can't suspend you," She said. "There's got to be something we can do. My father-"
"He was there, Babs," I said. "He didn't have a choice."
"But you were just trying to help. Don't they see that?"
"It doesn't matter, Babs."
"Of course it matters," She countered. "That's bullshit."
"It wasn't a big deal, okay?" I said. "If getting suspended is what I have to do to get rid of these bastards I'll be glad to do it."
"I just- I mean, its your job," She said. "You can't throw it all away."
"I'll think of something," I said. "Right now our priority is finding out where they're going. I put a tracker on their getaway van."
"You think they got away?" She asked.
"They took on a roomful of cops and got away," I reminded her. "I'm sure they found a way out of a jeweler's house."
"And you think they're gonna take the getaway back to their headquarters or whatever?" Babs asked. "They've got to be smarter than that."
"I guess we'll find out," I said. "Call Fox. Tell him we're on our way."
Lucius Fox was surprisingly spry at two in the morning. I figured it was because he was finally back in the game. Supplying superheroes with their gadgets. It was weird to think of Babs and I as superheroes when we were walking up his marble stairs; me in my suit, her still in her sports bra and yoga pants. It was a bit of an overwhelming moment, but neither of us had time to be overwhelmed. We had to get there and suit up and get going before we lost anymore of the trail we had going.
Fox opened up the secret room behind his bookcase. I was so familiar with it at that point that it hardly baffled me. Since our conditioning of his help he'd cleared away and rearranged most of the trinkets so that the ones we needed were at the ready. Including our suits, which sat in huge glass cases on the far wall, ready for wear.
I was again faced with the reality that I was not Batman. I wasn't Bruce Wayne. I wasn't rich or important or special in any way. I was a Gotham city cop. Bruce Wayne might not have thought he was anything special either, but he was. He had a mission. He had something to fight for. I had a college girl nagging at my elbow. What made me worthy of the suit in my hands?
"Cold feet, detective?" Babs asked, on account of my hesitation.
"I thought we agreed on black suits," I dodged, holding up mine so she could see the jagged blue line across the chest.
Babs shrugged," I thought black was boring. And blue is night-like too."
"This isn't a fashion show, Babs," I said. "It's dangerous. It's work."
"That doesn't mean you can't look good while doing it," She said, stepping into her suit and pulling the skintight material up her body.
It seemed stiff and immovable, and it was; once it was on, but holding it I could hardly imagine it could stop a bullet or allow me any kind of smooth movement. I trusted Fox however and stepped into mine as well. I wasn't a big fan of the blue, but it did fit okay and boosted my confidence a bit. Maybe the Batman hadn't felt special, but in an invulnerable suit with a mask covering my face I didn't have to be Richard Grayson, orphan. I could be anyone I wanted. The bad guys didn't have to know I wasn't special.
Babs suit was black with gold boots, gold gloves, a good bat branded on her chest and a bat-eared helmet to top it all off. I thought it was a little grandiose, but at least she'd forgone the cape. She looked good in it, better than I probably did. She looked right, natural. She didn't have to pretend to be special.
"Like what you see, Boy Wonder?" She asked once she caught me staring.
"You jacked his logo," I said.
"If you'll come this way, I'll give you a way to defend yourself," Fox interrupted, leading Babs and I through more of the gadgets.
"Utility belts?" Babs asked as Fox opened a case.
"Each belt has ten compartments," Fox said. "Smoke pellets, Tasers, grapple hooks, rope and these… I call them batarangs. Guaranteed to stop anyone you might come into contact with as long as they're not wearing your armor. Each belt is made specifically for you and opens using only your fingerprint.
"No guns," I commented.
"No, but there is one thing I think you'll like…" He continued, pulling out two identical platinum sticks and handing them to me. "Better than a gun, eh?"
"I wouldn't say that," I told him, weighing the sticks in my hands.
"How come he gets a cool toy?" Babs asked. "Where's mine?"
"For you, Miss Gordon," Fox said. "I have something even better. If you'll follow me to the garage."
We clicked on our belts, which were surprisingly light for having containing everything Fox said, and followed him further into his Fox hole (that's what I'd taken to calling it) and into the lower level garage where he had many decommissioned vehicles, including prototypes for the Batman's high tech car. At the end of the garage sat a sleek, shiny, black motorbike.
"It's fully equipped with every technological device you could ever want Barbara," Fox said. "Including the map for the tracking device."
"Wicked, Lucius," Babs beamed, running her hands over the polished leather seats. "All for me?"
"We began production on one for Mr. Grayson as well," He said. "But it's not quite finished yet. I hadn't expected you to find trouble so soon."
"Trouble is my best friend, Lucius," Babs said. "We can't stay apart for long."
"Unfortunately, for tonight, you'll have to share," Fox said, in regards to the bike.
"Share?" Babs scoffed.
"Unless you want to roll up in a police cruiser," He told her.
Babs pouted, "Fine. But you're on the back, Robin."
I let her use of my middle name slide for a moment, "Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?"
"Would Lucius have made me one if I didn't?" She asked, throwing a leg over the seat and testing the handlebars.
"Do you have a motorcycle license?" I asked.
"For two years now," She replied. "But I've never had the time or money to buy an actual bike. Now will you take the badge off and get on the bike, please?"
"That door leads out to an old road that leads to Cedar Street," Fox said, pointing to a large garage door at the end of the hall. "It'll take you anywhere you want to go."
"Looks like your tracking device is somewhere downtown," Babs said, hunched over her bike and examining a screen that I hadn't realized was there. "By that new club. You know, the one we met at on Christmas Eve?"
I nearly choked on my own tongue, "Yeah, I know that one."
"You think they took their spoils to a night club?" She asked.
"What other leads do we have?"
"Worth a shot," She shrugged. "Shall we?"
"I swear to Christ if you wreck us I will tell your father everything you've been up to," I told her as I settled onto the back of the bike.
"Come on, Dick," She said over her shoulder. "Don't you trust me?"
I directed Babs through the back roads of Gotham and to the nightclub. There wasn't much chance we could ride in on our fancy motorcycle, in our skintight suits without being seen. It was beginning to seem more and more likely that they had dumped the van and switched cars before they went back to their base, but we couldn't just go home that easily. I had Babs park the bike a few streets down and we took the alleyways around to the back of the club.
"Everything about this is screaming 'dead end,' Dick," Babs told me.
"There's got to be some kind of lead here," I said. "If we could just find the van I could check for clues."
"Well, gee, Fred," Babs smirked. "Should we split up?"
"Just bear with me, okay?" I said. "Detective work isn't all glitz and glamour."
"And here I thought the Batman was a nice break from the police force," She said.
"I'm not Batman," I reminded her, slinking around the corner of the alley.
Babs and I slunk down the alley, careful not to call any attention and as we passed a dumpster and came across the same nondescript van I'd seen earlier. It seemed empty, abandoned, but I drew one of the sticks from my boot all the same. Babs glanced sideways at me, drawing a "batarang" out of her belt.
I slowly crept around the car and to the drivers' seat, which I found empty, along with the rest of the car. No treasures, no bad guys, no evidence. A true dead end.
"Should we dust for fingerprints?" Babs asked.
"I doubt they'd be that stupid," I replied. "But why would they leave it here? At a night club?"
"It's a pretty good place to go unnoticed," Babs shrugged. "An unmarked van pulling into an alley behind a club? People would just think it was a delivery of some kind."
"I don't see any other tire tracks," I said.
"So?"
"So that means they didn't switch cars," I said. "There's only the tracks leading into the alley and stopping when the van does."
"It's only water," She said. "Maybe it dried."
"Faster than the tracks laid after it?"
"Maybe they had an invisible helicopter that carried their goods to their evil headquarters," She suggested.
"Or maybe, their evil headquarters are so close they didn't need a car to take their goods to it," I said.
"Where would it be?" She asked. "There are no apartments or empty warehouses around here. Someone would notice if there were a bunch of guys carrying stolen jewels through downtown Gotham."
"What if…" I nodded to the steps that led down to the basement of the club.
"Yeah right," Babs scoffed. "We're not in a comic book. People don't actually run huge heists out of nightclub basements."
"It's the only logical solution," I said.
"Alright, say you're right," She said. "Do you suggest we just go barging down into a place full of guys who don't give a damn about killing cops, let alone to whackadoos in skintight suits. There's bravery and then there's stupidity, Dick."
"We've got to do something," I said. "There's a lead here and if we skip out before finding it we're potentially condemning ourselves and Gotham to an even worse fate than Bane."
Babs sighed heavily, "I could bug it, but I have to have a way in there where I won't be noticed."
"I can cover you," I said.
"I'm not letting you in there by yourself," She said. "You'll be like a pig for the slaughter if you waltz in there alone."
"I'm not gonna go looking for a fight," I said. "But I can handle myself if I run into one."
"I won't be the reason you get killed," She said.
"Then make it quick," I suggested.
The door to the basement of the club was locked, which was surprisingly surprising, but thanks to Babs and her superior lock-picking skills, we had it open in minutes. The door opened to a dark corridor that looked exactly like a basement, when I had expected a setup not unlike the batcave. There didn't seem to be anyone lurking about, but Babs and I both drew our weapons.
"Where does one start when bugging the enemies' lair?" I asked.
"Air vents," Babs said. "I'll see where they lead and place the bugs accordingly."
"You'll be okay up there?" I asked.
"Safer than you down here, alone," She replied. "We don't have to do this you know. We could come back with my father and special forces and SWAT and-"
"And tell them what?" I asked. "That I snuck off into the woods with a tracking device and found their getaway car and traced them back to a nightclub? They'll never believe me and I'm suspended anyway."
"We could leave an anonymous tip," She shrugged.
"We need to figure this out first," I told her. "Find out what their doing and why they're doing it. You said yourself that some jobs are not for the police to handle."
"Yeah, and some jobs are not for two vigilantes with a Taser."
"You saw what they did to the cops before, Babs," I said. "This is a job that has to be done discreetly."
She looked up at me with an expression not unlike her father's; like I was right and had she not been so involved with the situation she would have agreed it was the right choice without hesitation. Babs was very close to me, whispering right into my face. I could just make out the green in her eyes behind the mask and the shadows of the basement.
"I'll need a boost then," She said.
I linked my fingers and lifted her up to an air vent where she used a grappling hook to break it open. I lifted her higher so she could pull herself up into the vent. Once she was up she cast me one last look, like I'd break and decide to leave if she gave me puppy dog eyes. I just nodded to her and she disappeared into the vent, leaving me alone in the corridor.
I expected standing guard in enemy headquarters to be a little more eventful than it turned out to be. I couldn't hear much behind the three doors that occupied the corridors and I was insanely curious as to what was behind them, but I knew I would just be walking into a trap if I indulged and I needed to remain here for when Babs returned.
So far, taking over for the Batman had been an extremely boring job. Part of me wanted someone to come out of those doors because it would give me something to do. I was beginning to understand that being Gotham's savior wasn't all about brutality, but it couldn't all be planting bugs and sneaking through alleyways.
I took to pacing. There wasn't much else to do and, given the night's events, I was pretty wound up. Adrenaline coursed through my veins like a virus nagging me to pick a fight, do some training, lift a car. Something. But here I was, playing watchdog, marinating in my unrest.
As I stalked down to the end of the hallway the second door swung open and two of thugs came out. I retracted towards the wall, behind the door and gripped my sticks tightly in both hands. They hadn't seen me yet. I slowly followed them, ready to strike, but neither of them seemed rather equipped for a fight.
I was close enough now to hit one of them over the head with my sticks and he fell to the ground with a grunt. The second guy whipped around, eyes blazing and threw a couple of untargeted blows. I dodged them easily, hitting him in the jaw with the back of my fist. He fell against the wall, but he wasn't down yet so I went with a kick to his stomach, sending him flying backwards and onto the floor where he hit his head and fell unconscious as well.
Breathing heavily, I looked down at my work with somewhat dissipated anger and gritted my teeth. At least I knew that this was where their base was. That doubt had been worrying at the back of my mind since we'd come in here.
"Dick," A sharp voice whispered from above.
I looked up to see Babs' bat-headed face looking down at me.
"What happened?" She asked.
"A little tussle," I shrugged. "Find everything okay?"
"You wouldn't believe," She replied, shifting so her legs hung down from the vent. "They've got the whole spread. I saw tons of the little henchmen, but there didn't seem to be any established leader. It was disgusting. They were toasting, celebrating. They mean business."
"Yeah, well," I said, reaching up and taking her hips to lift her down. "When these guys wake up they'll be sure to spread the word that we found their stash."
"Are you okay?" Babs asked, looking down at the unconscious men on the floor.
"I'm fine," I said. "They didn't even see me coming."
"The bugs are in place," She told me. "I'll install a file for the recordings when we get home."
"Any chance they'll find the bugs?"
"There's always a chance," She replied. "But we'll be able to learn a little something before they find them. If they find them."
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
"I'm fine," She replied.
"What do you say I drive home, then?"
By the time we got back to the manor it was past four in the morning, but I wasn't feeling tired in the least and neither was Babs, it appeared. She was positively chipper as she skipped past me, swinging her bat-eared cowl.
"You ready to download that surveillance for me?" I asked.
"Work, work, work," She sighed. "We've done enough for tonight."
"You've done enough," I corrected. "I stood in a hallway kicking at the dirt."
"Oh, please," She scoffed. "If it wasn't for you we would have never even found the van, or the club. Not to mention your little altercation with Foley. If that's not cause for celebration then I don't know what is."
"It's late, Babs,"
"Well, it's not like you have to work in the morning," She smirked. "Come on. I'll meet you in your room in ten minutes. I'll install the surveillance if you have a drink with me…"
I sighed heavily, "Fine. One drink."
"One drink's all I need."
It was surprising to me just how comfortable the suit was, despite it's rigid material, and once I had it off I felt like I'd shed a second skin. A second part of me. I wondered if that was how the Batman felt. I'd met him as both of his identities and it was still easy for me to think of them as two different people. It seemed appropriate to separate the two. I know who it was: it was the Batman.
Maybe Gordon was right. That wasn't Bruce Wayne out there fighting crime; that was Batman. That was the point, I supposed. Justice didn't need a face. It only needed an enforcer. That was me now, but it wasn't necessarily Dick Grayson.
"Alright, lets get this show on the road," Babs said, dancing into the room.
She had two bottles of beer and some flash-drive looking thing in her hands. She, too, had changed out of her suit and into a pair of shorts and my Police Academy T shirt. I hadn't realized she still had it.
"That's my shirt," I commented.
"Finders keepers," She replied, handing me a beer. "Now, drink and be merry."
"Surveillance," I reminded her.
"God, yes," She rolled her eyes. "I'm doing it. Slow your roll, Boy Wonder."
"Your jubilance is exhausting," I said.
"So is your dutiability," She replied as she began to type things into my computer. "Your badge is showing."
"I'm just saying," I said. "Just because we found their secret evil lair doesn't mean we've stopped them. We still have a ways to go."
"But we accomplished something at least," She said. "We have more than we did yesterday."
"That's true," I admitted.
"See?" She said. "Now shut up and drink your beer."
"You're not downloading a bunch of porn onto my laptop are you?" I asked.
Babs snorted, "No. But I could."
"Oh, please do," I laughed. "Now that I'm suspended I'll need something to do."
"I was serious about talking to my father, you know," She said, turning in the chair so her chin rested on the back of it. "I know he doesn't want you suspended."
"I don't want any favors," I said. "I did what I did and these are the consequences."
"But its not like you did it just because," She said. "You had a reason."
"That I can't tell anyone."
"Foley deserved it and you know it," She said. "My dad knows it, too."
"Just because he deserved it doesn't mean it was justified," I said. "But what really pisses me off is that by doing it I just proved to him that I'm a hothead."
"Like he didn't push you," She said.
"Well," I shrugged.
"They won't keep you off for long," She told me. "You're one of the best they have. Besides, I don't think my dad could go a day without you."
"What are you doing?" I asked. "Install things."
"Will you relax?" She laughed. "It's loading. Takes a while. Looks like you'll have to actually talk to me."
"I don't think anything we do can really qualify as talking," I said.
"Oh, please," She scoffed. "I'm the best conversation you've ever had."
I watched as she crossed the room and looked over the CDs on my shelves. Her red hair was down and swinging long down her back, almost to her ass. Which looked rather enticing in the pajama shorts she was wearing. My view of her ass led to the creamy white length of her legs.
She looked good in just about anything, but that night, when she was barefoot and comfortable, ready for bed, was how I preferred her. Unlike the ball where she was drop-dead gorgeous in that dress and unlike an hour before in her skintight suit where she was strong and capable, in her pajamas she was real. I felt like I could touch her, I felt like we were at the same level.
"You think the Batman ever celebrated?" She asked.
"From what I saw he took his work pretty seriously," I said. "He did seem a little sweet on Catwoman, though."
"Catwoman?" Babs asked.
"Yeah, you know," I said. "Selina Kyle. Cat burglar. They crossed paths a couple times. Rumor has it she still has his Batpod."
"Hmm," She considered. "I guess it never occurred to me that he might've had a girlfriend. I mean, I know Bruce Wayne had his flings, but it's probably hard for someone like him to have anything serious."
"I don't think it was ever serious with Selina Kyle," I said. "She was a petty thief. Smart, but she used men like Gameboys. Batman could've just been a signpost."
"It's hard to think of him as an actual person, you know?" She said. "I mean with actual emotions and feelings. But that could just be because I've never met him."
"Believe me, I've met him," I said. "It's still hard to picture him with any emotions. Besides blind determination at least. But he is a man. And men have needs."
"Oh, do they?" Babs smirked, coming back over to the desk with me. "You think the Batman was as good at sex as he was at fighting?"
"You'd be surprised how similar the two are," I replied.
"The sex you have must be much different than the sex I have," She said. "Because the two seem like polar opposites to me."
"Then you haven't been doing it right," I told her.
She looked up at me with one eyebrow raised and half her mouth turned up in a smile. So close to me that it was hard to imagine not touching her, especially when she looked so inviting. I inched closer to her to sweep her hair back behind her ear.
Her smirk disappeared, "What are you doing?"
I decided to answer with my mouth rather than my words, with a careful kiss.
"Dick…" She breathed, pulling back. "Don't."
I moved in front of her, hands on her upper arms, "Don't what?"
"You know what," She said.
"What? This?" I kissed her again, this time more deeply and she waited a moment before pulling away again.
"We can't," She whispered.
"Why not?"
"You know why not," She sighed.
"Why not?" I repeated.
"It's… it's too complicated."
"What's complicated about it?"
"Everything," She said. "Everything. If you think about it…"
"Then don't think about it."
I kissed her one final time, hoping the third time would be the charm and, to my surprise, it was. She pressed her mouth firmly against mine, fisting her hands in my shirt. I slid one arm around her waist, pulling her against me. Her tongue slid against mine, dragging me further into the headiness of her desire.
We pressed tighter together, making our way backwards to my bed. I rubbed my fingers around to her back until they were beneath her shirt, where I found that she wore nothing underneath. This spurred me into faster action, pulling my shirt up and over her head and lowering her onto the mattress before us.
The last time we did this it was sloppy and fast and hard. The second time it was- well not exactly slow, but I was trying to take my time. Babs was like liquid beneath me, writhing, her back bowing against my mattress. She was relentless. It was obvious she wanted control, but I knew if I yielded like I did the first time it'd be over before I'd know it. I wanted this to be different. I wanted her to have everything I could give.
I set a slow, rough pace that just barely had us in control. She was clawing at my back, surely leaving marks, and I had to fist my hands in the sheets beside her just for purchase. Barbara Gordon was an intoxicating woman just as she was, but when she was actually trying it was next to impossible to resist. Each time my lips touched her skin I had a new reason to keep going.
The more I tried to maintain my restraint the more Babs tried to corrupt it. She was always trying to get me to cut loose and now she had me exactly where she needed me to do just that. Once her hands traveled up to my neck to tug on my hair, I'd had enough. I reached back and pried both hands off and brought them above her head, pinned against the wooden headboard.
She half smirked up at me in victory until I broke her stoic face with a brusque thrust. I reveled in the surprised groan she let out and slid one of my hands down her body to her hip. With her arms restrained she had no other way of keeping contact besides her legs. I could feel the new muscle she'd built since our first time we'd been together as she locked her thighs around my hips.
"God, Dick…" She huffed, her words fanning hotly against my neck.
There are very little things in this world that truly make me speechless, but being in bed with Barbara Gordon, buried to the hilt, pressed together, is perhaps the most effective. I couldn't articulate any discernable words; all that came out were restrained guttural noises.
Only moments later, Babs was moaning audibly and grinding her hips against me, trying to move things along as best she could in her position. I attempted to hold her still with my hand on her hip, but she would not be deterred. My mouth slid down the side of her neck, sucking and biting in its wake, leaving my mark on her as she certainly had on my back.
"Dick. Faster." She pleaded.
I didn't oblige, to her dismay and she tried desperately to relieve some of her frustration, but she didn't have much wiggle room. As the minutes ticked by I tried to keep a plausible time frame, but every second screamed that it was sufficient enough. The way her stomach slid against mine and her breasts bounced with each thrust were enough to bring lesser men to their knees and no doubt had.
"Jesus Christ," I gritted through clenched teeth, burying my face in the crook of her neck.
"Come on, Dick," Babs begged. "Let go."
I wasn't sure if she meant her hands or my marbles, but it was going to be one or the other. In the end my body decided for me and Babs did as well and we both cried out as sensory overload came into play. For a moment all I could do was revel in the bliss, but once I came back to myself I looked down to see Babs still lost in the throes of her orgasm.
Tears slipped from her eyes in what I assumed was sheer shock and I leaned down to gently kiss them away. In all my years and all my women I had never caused such a reaction. I was glad, first because I possessed that talent and second because Babs was the first to receive such pleasure.
"God," She panted, her chest still heaving. "I have to say that was better than the last time."
"Inebriation does tend to take the skill out of it," I replied, nuzzling her jaw.
"Skill indeed," She nodded. "I'll be surprised if I can walk tomorrow."
"That makes two of us," I said.
I had released her hands and they now rested on my shoulders, lightly, like she didn't want to press too hard and restart something. I, on the other hand, was hoping to restart something and slid my hands down her back, which arched under my touch. I kissed my way down her neck and her collarbone to her bare chest. She giggled as I traveled even lower, pulling me back up before I got where I really wanted to be.
"I'm getting the feeling that you're not completely satisfied," She said.
"If you promise not to leave this bed I'll promise to be satisfied," I told her.
"Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet," She smiled a sardonic smile and turned me over so she was on top.
"Babs," I called softly, shaking her hip. "Babs, wake up."
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, "Dick?"
"Morning," I said.
Groaning into her pillow as her body woke up, she twisted in the sheets, pulling the edge up to cover her naked chest. Her hair was messy and there was a dark purple mark on her neck from my mouth. The first time we'd slept together I didn't get a good look at her the morning after, but I was looking now. She was glowy and doe-eyed, sporting swollen lips and smudged mascara.
"I made breakfast," I said, setting a tray on the nightstand.
"Jesus, how long have you been up?" She asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"About an hour," I said. "It's almost one."
"One?" She asked.
"You slept for almost eight hours," I said.
"Mmm," She mumbled. "You wore me out."
I reached out and took her chin, leaning in for a kiss, but she pulled back before my lips could touch hers.
"Come on, Dick," She said. "Don't."
"Don't what?" I asked.
"Kiss me."
"You didn't seem to have a problem with it last night," I said.
"Last night was-"
"Last night was what?" I asked. "Nothing?"
"I told you," She said. "It's too complicated."
"Not too complicated for you to sleep with me," I said. "Twice."
"Forgive me for indulging a little bit."
"No, I won't forgive you," I said. "You don't get to make love to me and then act like it never happened. Not again."
"Well, then, what do you suggest?" She asked.
"Talk to me?" I suggested. "Tell me what's happening in that crazy head of yours."
"Nothing is happening," She insisted. "We were drunk the first time and that was… fine, but we said it wouldn't happen again and here we are."
"Doesn't the fact that it did happen again warrant some kind of discussion?" I asked.
"What makes you think I'd want to discuss it?"
"Babs, you've got to talk to me," I said. "Half the time I don't know if you're coming or going and the other half I just want you. I'm a cop, Babs. It's my job to read people but I can't get a read on you."
"Yeah, well, I've been evading cops since I was born," She said.
"You're the first girl I've never been able to predict," I told her.
"Are you really pulling the 'you're not like other girls speech?'" She scoffed.
"Well, you're not," I said. "And I like that. And I like you. And you like me so-"
"I don't just like you, Dick, alright?" She said. "I've been in love with you for over a year now."
I didn't have anything to say to that. Of all the times Barbara Gordon surprised me that was probably the biggest one. I found myself staring after she said it, searching my brain for any clues to back up her statement. The fact of the matter was, there were none. At least none that I, or anyone else, could pick up on, because this was Barbara Gordon and there was no ground to stand on.
I believed her of course, because of all the things Babs was, a liar was not one of them and I'd never heard her say anything she didn't mean. Or didn't want to mean.
"And you didn't think to tell me this?" I asked.
Babs looked up from where she was hiding her face behind her hand, "No. I didn't think to tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because you're… you," She said. "And I'm me."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that I didn't think you'd like me," She said. "And if you didn't… want to be with me, I'd at least be your friend."
"You didn't think I'd like you?" I repeated.
"I thought you'd think I was weird. Or crazy."
"I do think you're weird," I told her. "And crazy. But I also think you're smart. And strong. And beautiful."
"What's your point?" She asked, jaw tight.
"My point is: there's nothing holding us back." I slid my hand onto her cheek, turning her face towards mine. "'There's always people you care about.' Bruce Wayne told me that. I didn't think it was true. I didn't want it to be true. Caring about people is weakness. Caring about people is just one more thing they can use against you. And then you came along. And you're the first person I've let myself care about. You're the first person that I haven't sat up worrying about. You're the first person I haven't been afraid will be ripped away from me and I'm asking you not to ruin that."
"I was six years old when my father faked his death," She said. "But I remember it perfectly. When those cops came to the door and told my mother he was dead she crumbled. And it wasn't the first night she'd stayed up until ridiculous hours waiting to hear if her husband was alive or dead, either. At six I was too young to fully comprehend what was really happening, but as I got older I began to understand. And when I was sixteen I vowed that I would never end up like her: waiting -always waiting- for the man I love to be pronounced dead."
"You think you'll have to wait for me?" I asked. "That's bullshit. The only reason I'll ever make you stay up until to ridiculous hours is if you're out there with me. Or in with me."
"It's not that easy," She said.
"It is," I countered. "You just have to trust me."
She huffed through her nose, half scoff, half sob. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she looked away from me, shaking her head. I thought she was going to jump from the bed and run screaming from the house, but at the last second she lurched forward and smashed her lips against mine.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap so she was straddling me. The bed sheet was trapped between us, sliding down so her bare chest was pressed against mine. I ran my fingers down her back, making her shiver. Her arms were tight around my neck, holding us together like the loops of a knot.
My hands slid down onto her ass, pressing her hips right against mine. She let out a surprised noise, just like the night before, and tipped her head back. I kissed over her long neck, tasting the angry skin where I'd left the hickey. She seemed especially pliant when I kissed just under her jaw and she melted against me, like warm honey.
"Break my heart and I'll break your spine," She warned.
"I don't doubt it," I mumbled against her neck.
"I should probably get dressed now," She said.
I pulled back to look at her face, which was flushed and hot, "Why?"
"You know why," She said.
"I actually want to show you something," I said.
"Show me what?" She asked, biting her lip.
"It's a surprise," I said. "But you should wear something you're not afraid to get wet."
A/N: I have just pulled an all-nighter for you guys to get this up. I apologize for my prolonged absence, I was busy with graduation and doing adult things and being responsible and all that noise, but I am back now and I've finally gotten to write my favorite part and I really hope you enjoy it and I hope that it makes up for your incredible patience. I love you all and thanks for the reviews and favorites, keep on trucking my loves!
-J