Disclaimer: Not mine


Clark was used to see corpses.

Rao, he was used to see all kinds of corpses, whole or not, and it was never easy, but when the body laying on a cold metallic bed belonged to someone he knew, it was even worse. He had never been too close to Barbara, even had had a confrontation with her when she took the Birds of Prey to Metropolis. But above all he truly admired and respected her. She had risen where she could have easily fallen. And she was loved. Dinah, Commissioner Gordon, Dick...If he could find a word superior to devastated, he might approach what they had to be feeling right now.

Morgues were so cold. He hated them. Clark took one last look at Barbara's inert face. An urge to fly back to Lois that instant and hold her forever crossed his whole body, followed by a feeling of guilt. He had talked to Barbara less than a day ago. Soon after that she had been killed. Would have they--him be able to save her? Would have it made the difference if he had tuned in her, just in case? Clark had to know.

The autopsy report was there. He knew it lied about the whereabouts, but otherwise it succinctly and concisely described the cause of death:

The body had been found face down on the bathroom's floor.

--Bruce found Barbara lying on the Clocktower.

Open wound on the back of her head.

--A blow with a blunt object from the back, to take her out of her chair, where she had her sticks. Cowards.

Bruises on her neck and wrists.

--They restrained her prone so she wouldn't fight back. Even like that she fought. Clark, you would have listened, you could've.

Cause of death: internal bleeding caused by a stab wound

--Piercing her already broken spine on the lumbar area.

By that time she was unconscious, couldn't cry for help. He would have heard her, because she would've known to call him. Clark self-rebuked sharply while he finished reading the report.

"Oh God, no..."

Clark was so distraught about what he just had read that he didn't see him standing there.


Dick had never seen Superman so taken aback, so affected. The report on his hand revealed the source of his altered mood.

"If you are looking for guilty, forget it. I'm the one to blame."

Clark turned and saw Dick. "I'm...I..."

Dick's eyes were only seeing Barbara, he didn't look at him when he talked. "You should go, I would like to be alone."

Clark bowed his head. "Of course." He passed by him and placed a hand on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Dick." Whether Dick ignored him or didn't even notice him, Clark couldn't tell. The younger man went to the body, and stood there. Clark didn't see him holding her hand and kissing it because he was already gone.

Dick was left alone one last time with Barbara. He took a chair to her side and sat in silence, one hand holding hers, the other on her belly.


Dick arrived home sooner than he had expected. He was tired but content. Bruce and him had taken down Vinicius da Costa, an arms dealer closely tied to some covert terrorist cells stationed in several US cities, Gotham being one of them. They had handed him to the authorities with enough evidence to keep him behind bars for a long time.

The apartment was silent, so he guessed Barbara would be working late.

Then he saw a little note on the floor. It had a phone number on it, a number he recognized. Taking his cell, he dialed. After two tones, the call was cut, but while he tried again, he received a text message. It was a quote from his favourite book:

'He felt like a race horse yoked to a mill wheel: after two days of walking in a circle are you still a race horse? Do you still have the desire to run, to be first at the finish line? No. You have a desire for silence, rest and the STABLE'.

He was already home, so stable didn't equal house this time. Food then. Dick went to the kitchen. He opened the oven. Another note:

'Expecting baked bread again, I see. You're not that injured, former boy wonder. Fridge.'

He chuckled; when had she learnt to predict him that well?, he wondered as he opened the white door. There was a sheet of paper with a menu for two, and another post-it:

'Table is already set. You just need to light the candles'.

Dick went to the living room. A table with the food ready. His favourite pasta salad, with goat 'rolo' cheese, Spanish 'serrano' ham, prunes, nuts and strawberry jam. A bottle of wine and another of water. Beside the lighter he found another note. Again the same phone number. Again the call cut. Again a text message:

'Took you long enough'.

Dick snorted. Another message came a few seconds after.

'Pump up the volume'

Dick turned his head towards their music player. He hadn't noticed, but it was connected to a laptop, playing continuously one song. His favourite song. Their song.

Soon after that the door opened and he could listen to that familiar wheel sound. He smiled at her.

"I didn't know you could be so..."

"Sappy?," said Barbara raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"I was going to say romantic."

"Well, yeah. Blame it on the hormones." Barbara stood in front of him smiling back. Dick approached and kissed her, then took her in her arms.

"What are you doing, Dick?"

"I like sappy and romantic. I'm taking advantage of your incapacitated state to have a dance with you and," he sang, "never let you go."

"I take it you liked the surprise."

"I am loving it" They both stayed dancing to the song, lost in a moment either didn't want to get out from. Unless they advanced. "You know, Babs. It is not as if the salad is going to get cool, so I was thinking, maybe..."

Barbara smirked. "Dessert first?"

"But only if you want to, I wouldn't want to spoil your dinner."

"You wouldn't. Besides, there is a reason I cooked salad instead of cordon-bleu."

"You know? I'm going to have to stop being so predictable."

"Why? It's fun for me."

"Precisely," said Dick as he carried her to their bedroom. The song kept playing. Dick saw on the bed another paper. He looked at Barbara. "Another note?"

"Not exactly." Dick looked again. It was an envelope.

"Oh. I see." What he didn't see was Barbara's nervous lower-lip-biting. "Are you sending me on a mission and this is your way of sweet-talking me to do so?"

"No. I figured after taking da Costa down you would be up to enjoying a good rest."

"How do you know about that?," asked Dick turning his head to her again.

"Because it's me, silly. Now, will you let me down?"

"Oh, sure I will." Dick placed Barbara on the bed, and started kissing her. His Nightwing costume was great for the aerodynamics. Not so comfy when he wanted to undress fast.

"MMM, Dick...aren't you opening it?"

"Can't it wait?"

"I'd rather you open it now."

"Ok, ok. But don't go running while I'm reading it, 'kay?"

"Your sarcasm? Something else I don't miss when you're out."

Barbara saw Dick smiling at her remark while he opened the envelope. Her stomach burst with nerves, and her heart beat faster. Dick's face underwent a few changes. His smile changed into strangeness, then into worry, then into an indescribable facial expression between bewilderment, happiness and stupefaction. Barbara could still listen to the song playing.

"B-Babs..."

"Have I managed to render you speechless? Maybe I can try with the Bat now," she said, trying to ease her own nerves. Humor was a great defense mechanism for her when it came to stressing situations, she had learnt it from Dinah.

"We---you're, w-we're having a-- b--bb--" He tried, but the word didn't come out.

His cuteness at that very moment made Barbara love him even more. Damn, those hormones were really changing her.

"Baby, Dick, it's called baby. And don't go babbling now with the clichés. You know very well how."

Still with that funny expression in his face, he looked at her. "You're calm. Why are you so calm?," he asked squinting his eyes.

"Ok, not wanting the cliché topic didn't mean I wanted the detective back so soon. You were cute two seconds ago."

"Babs...," he insisted.

Barbara finally gave in.

"One panicking at a time is more than enough, Dick. I had my own time of panicking like two weeks ago. I'm already in the static stage."

"You've known for two weeks?," asked Dick perplexed.

Barbara didn't quite know if the question was to her for not telling him sooner or to him for not having figured it out.

"Actually three if you count when I started to suspect. Keeping that calendar of my period despite having you as a human beeper came in really handy." His expression didn't change. "I'm six weeks along."

A few seconds later the signal seemed to reach his brain again. "And why did...why did you wait, Babs?"

"I wanted to make it right, Dick. I wanted to experience the moment without missions and villains and attacks. It had to be special."

Dick's expression was blank. Barbara wouldn't have been able to tell the difference had he been wearing the mask.

"Dick, a word or two would be great right now."

Instead of a word Barbara received a kiss. Dick kissed her with all the intensity he could give. Suddenly she felt his hand on her abdomen, and noticed that he was smiling. Kissing her and smiling at the same time. That smiling kiss and that hand on her belly suddenly felt like all that was right and good in the world.

"So are we both happy?," said Barbara managing to break the kiss and looking at Dick.

Dick was no longer smiling. He was grinning, he was beaming. "Full into the over static phase. Let me show you how static."

Neither bothered to turn off the song.


A teardrop fell on Barbara's face. Dick kissed her one last time, stood up and left.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: Some references to comics, both Birds of Prey and Nightwing.

Book reference: Quote taken from the short tale The Fugitive, inside the Primo Levi's short stories compilation "A Tranquil Star"

Music references:

Antony and The Johnsons ft. Rufus Wainwright 'What can I do?': Clark's inner thoughts at the morgue.

Elvis Presley 'Love me tender': Babs' and Dick's song