This one was surprisingly difficult to write. I wrote it out in four separate parts, and then mixed and blended them together; tweaking it here and there. The song mentioned is called "A Wink and A Smile" was written by Marc Shaiman and Ramsey McClean. I believe it was written for "Sleepless in Seattle" in 1993, but I cannot swear to it. The song, being performed here in the story, is as it is performed by Harry Connick, Jr. for the movie. No, I own no part of it. But I did a huge amount of research to choose a song for Elle and Bruce to dance to, and what type of dance would be appropriate. Turns out, it is the Foxtrot. :D
You may or may not know what agency DEA stands for. For your edification: DEA = Drug Enforcement Agency.
WARNING: Some Language . . . Be aware of the POV changes throughout. I believe I made it clear enough to whom each view belonged. If for some reason it is not, feel free to PM me.
"May I steal you away for a dance?" Bruce held his hand out to Elle and smiled.
Elle's eyes widened. So, this was that Wayne charm that Bruce was famous for. She glanced back at Dick and thought this is where he got it. Her fiancé had been an excellent student, but the teacher was something to behold when he poured it on.
Grinning, she allowed Bruce to draw her on to the dance floor with a dramatic flair. He pulled her in just as the music started. Surprise lit her face as she recognized the song. "A Wink and A Smile" floated out over the dance floor from the bandstand, a gentleman she didn't know singing it.
"Do you foxtrot," Bruce asked.
"Is the sky blue," she asked in reply.
Bruce was incredibly light on his feet.
"How is it you aren't spending the entire night dancing? I think that every woman in this place is jealous of me right now," Elle teased.
"I never said I couldn't dance," he answered her.
"Just that you don't very often," she concluded. "That makes this extra special, then."
"You didn't have to show up this evening," Bruce told her. "No one would have blamed you for staying in . . . But I am very glad that you decided to come."
"I know," she admitted. "I thought very seriously about it, but I thought it important to support my future father-in-law by attending his party."
Bruce frowned at little at that. "That is unnecessary. I would never expect you to make a sacrifice like this must be for you."
Elle gave him a gentle smile. "Don't frown, Bruce," she admonished him. "You do that far too much as it is. This is a wonderful party and it's New Year's Eve. The whole year is stretching out in front of us all with hope and promises. Smile and enjoy yourself."
His lips edged up in response to her order. "Have I told you how good you are for Dick?"
Now her own smile brightened. "Not outright, no."
"And not just him," Bruce admitted. "You've brought laughter and music back into the manor; to the family."
She pursed her lips at that. "You sound like Dick now. He's said he'd never heard you belly laugh before I showed up with that god awful costume for him to wear."
That startled a loud bark of laughter from him, causing several people to gape in their direction in surprise.
"Oh, don't get me started," Bruce said, laughing openly. "That monstrosity had me in tears! If I hadn't known you were clueless to our family's 'quirks', I'd have said you rented that purposely."
Elle chuckled at the memory. It hadn't been funny to her at the time. She had been embarrassed and horrified at her unintended blunder. But now that she did know the family's 'quirks', the situation was outrageously funny.
"Actually, that monstrosity is currently stashed in a box in the back of my closet," she whispered, confidentially. "Dick had damaged it trying to get it on. I was forced to buy it."
Bruce grinned. "Does Dick know?"
Now, Elle laughed. "Oh no! He'd told me he had had nightmares for weeks after that; of being on patrol wearing it and all the villains and their victims standing in a circle around him laughing uproariously."
"I can just imagine," Bruce commented as the music wound down.
They stopped and looked around them, but Dick was nowhere in sight.
"Would you like to dance again, or shall I find you something to drink while we wait for your errant fiancé to come wandering back?" Bruce offered.
Elle wasn't sure if it were the dance or the laughter, but she was feeling a bit winded. Odd that since Elle loved to dance as much as she did swimming, which was saying a lot.
"You can just take me over there," she said, pointing to the side. She would be entertained enough just watching other couples dancing while the music played.
Bruce led her to the side of the dance floor.
"I see the mayor and his wife," Bruce told her with a sigh. "I should probably introduce you."
"Okay," she agreed easily. She was used to making small talk with the rich, powerful, and famous while attending events with her father. "You don't sound all that excited by the prospect."
"I don't particularly like Dickerson," Bruce admitted. "I believe him to be corrupt, but if you are to join the family, it is an acquaintance you should likely make."
"Such is the life of the rich and famous, eh?" Elle patted his arm.
"Are you two planning on making a formal announcement this evening," Bruce asked changing the subject before they could approach Gotham City's first couple.
"I thought the engagement had made the papers already," Elle said.
"Nothing official; just rumors," he explained, nodding at a couple of photographers standing further away. "But don't feel pressured. I'm afraid it might result in a paparazzi feeding frenzy. You could wait a few weeks after your father's funeral."
Elle thought about it. Privacy to grieve would be appreciated, but the party would be a perfect time to confirm those unofficial rumors.
"Let me think about it," she told him. "I want to ask Dick his opinion first."
"Of course," Bruce assured her. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the back of it. Giving it a squeeze, he walked her up to the mayor and his wife, as promised.
"She's quite lovely," a familiar voice cut through his musings.
Dick turned and looked down. "As are you," he said with a smile. "How are you, Babs?"
"Charming as ever, aren't you, Dick," Babs said, amusement teasing her expression. "I'm fine," she told him. "Never better."
Dick glanced around. "Are you here with your father?" He hadn't seen the commissioner yet.
She raised an eyebrow. "He's around here somewhere, but I'm not here with him. Despite what you might think to the contrary, I'm here with a date."
He was surprised and yet not. Unusual emotions were coursing through him now that he stood in front of the woman who had held his heart for the past nine years; ever since he was fifteen and puberty had turned his irritation with Batgirl into fascination. A rush of confusing and conflicting emotions . . . Regret for what might have been; concern for how she was fairing; and . . . a hint of the love he had held for her still remained intact in one small corner of his heart. And yes, maybe a tiny bit of jealousy that she could replace him so easily . . .
"Anyone I know," he asked.
"Probably not," she shrugged. "He's not from around here."
Dick looked at her; really looked. Babs looked good, as he had said. Still beautiful . . . Her red hair styled and clipped back with a rhinestone barrette, and pretty gown of deep green and gold, marred only by the ugly black and chrome of her wheelchair. The chair bothered him as it always did, only in the fact that represented a painful and terrible episode from Babs' life, but it never detracted from the vibrancy of its bearer.
She seemed happy enough, but he could see a tiny frown line creasing her brow. It hadn't ended pleasantly for them. In fact, it had been quite messy, although Dick supposed that was mostly his fault. He had continued to pursue her despite her determination to move on. He had made a nuisance of himself with the mistaken belief that he could woo her back through persistence and perseverance. He had forced her to be angry and the sting of her parting words the last time they had spoken still hurt to this day.
And then there had been silence.
He had avoided her for months, even refusing to use her services as Oracle. Truth be told, he sort of thought she would have refused to help him in those first few months had he tried . . . So, he hadn't bothered.
He remembered the heavy depression settling on him over that time. He had lost interest in practically everything. Nightwing had had numerous close calls for that dangerous lack of interest. He had been careless and unobservant. It had taken him twice as long to wrap of several cases because he couldn't seem to get his mind in the right place.
Until his talk with Wally, Dick had even considered cutting himself off from Bruce and the rest of the family in an effort to convince Babs of her importance to him. Even that decision though had cut him deeply. He had only just come back to the fold, so to speak. His relationship with Bruce had improved so much in the past couple of years, to the point that Nightwing was spending almost half of his time back in Gotham City again, assisting the Batman.
He had nearly given up his family in order to please this woman, and Dick couldn't help but wonder if even that would have been sufficient to repair what they had had. He had thought so at one point, but now he understood that he would have eventually resented the hell out of Barbara for forcing him into that place. It might have torn them apart again, just further down the road; bringing them back into a full circle.
He had been stuck on that path with no way off for the longest time; hurting both himself and Babs unnecessarily . . . Until he had first seen Elle.
He had a lot to answer for and even more to be grateful for.
Dick kneeled beside her chair.
"I've missed you," he told her, leaning in so that his words remained between the two of them.
"Dick," Babs frowned at him.
"No," he took her hand in his. "Listen. I need to apologize . . ."
She shook her head at him. "No, you don't . . ."
He almost laughed. They weren't in each other's company for more than ten minutes before they were arguing again.
"Yes, I do," he insisted. "I was an asshole."
Her lips quirked up into a smile at his bluntness. "Okay, yes, I agree," she said. "You were."
"We went round and round so many times trying to get things to work out, and failing miserably time and again. Always I kept thinking that this time . . . This time, we could figure it out and finally be happy."
Her smile grew sad. "And we were . . . for a little while."
"Yeah, for a while," he sighed. "But you always knew, didn't you? That we were beating a dead horse."
Babs grimaced at that expression. "I wanted it to work, too, Dick. I really did, but we were just too . . . incompatible, I guess. I loved you, so I was willing to try it again and again, but I realized a while ago that we can't live on love. That our differences and our problems would eventually kill that love completely." She reached up and cupped his cheek. "But I didn't want to lose you as a friend as well. Do you understand that now?"
He reached up and held her hand against his face; savoring the feel of it for a moment. "I do. I didn't for a long time, but I do now."
"Is it because of this new girl in your life," she asked.
"Elle is . . ." Dick paused, unable to find the words he needed to describe the woman who had stolen his heart and now owned his soul.
"Elle?" Babs tilted her head. "I thought her name was Arabella."
"It is," he agreed. "I call her Elle. Babs, she is everything I could have hoped for; everything I would have dreamed about had I but known what it was I truly wanted."
"I'm happy for you, then," Babs told him, but she winced slightly.
"What is it," he asked.
"Maybe just a touch of jealousy," she admitted. "That I couldn't have been that woman for you."
"I haven't stopped loving you, Babs, but Elle is . . ."
"Sh. You don't have to say anything," she leaned in close. "She is everything you ever dreamed of . . . Before you knew what to dream. I wish you all the luck in the world with her."
Babs kissed him. One of forgiveness, and perhaps a little bit for old times' sake . . . One more for goodbye to something bittersweet.
Dick allowed the kiss. A touch of that old thrill was still there. The attraction hadn't ended for either of them, but that had never been the problem. He noted, however, that it now lacked the vibrancy and the electricity that he had grown used to since Elle had come into his life.
Elle found herself distracted from the conversation she was having with Mayor Dickerson's wife. Bruce had wandered off with the woman's husband, which was fine with Elle because the man emanated a slimy feel. Bruce had been right about that. The wife, Charlotte, however, appeared to be quite gracious and much the opposite of her husband.
Feelings that didn't belong to her were trickling into her mind. Concern, regret . . . love?
What?
Frowning, she glanced around the spacious ballroom atop the WE building that Bruce used for parties and large conferences; searching through the crowd of well-dressed people for one in particular. She had lost track of Dick while dancing with Bruce, but now that she thought about it, that had been a while ago. She had been speaking with the mayor's wife for some time.
Where is he?
He had promised not to leave her alone for long . . . and yet, Elle glanced at the watch on her companion's arm, she had been chatting with Charlotte for a good fifteen minutes. Not long in the normal course of things, but she and Dick had only planned to stay until midnight. Fifteen minutes was a goodly chunk of time out of what was supposed to be a mere hour.
The couple beyond her moved away and Elle got a clear view of the dance floor and those people lining the other side of it.
She spotted him kneeling beside a lovely, redheaded woman in a wheelchair. He held her hand and was leaning close either to be heard over the music or to provide some modicum of privacy for whatever conversation they were having.
They were smiling . . . The woman raised a hand to caress his face.
Elle blinked at the familiarity. They must know each other very well, she thought. Dick's hand came up to hold hers against his cheek. Elle's eyes widened in surprise. She was fairly certain that her mouth dropped open, but was powerless to close it in her initial shock.
"That's Barbara Gordon," The Charlotte supplied, helpfully.
Barbara Gordon . . . Barbara . . . Babs? Her heart clenched in her chest and a lump rose up in her throat; making it impossible to breathe, let alone speak.
"Hey, weren't those two an item a while back?" A disembodied voice floated to her ear. Someone other than her companion; a different person on her other side; a stranger . . .
Elle couldn't turn her head to see who the speaker was. Her attention was riveted.
"Yes, I remember the announcement in the paper. 'Heir to Wayne Empire to Marry Commissioner's Daughter'. Whatever happened to those two? Did they ever tie the knot," another voice asked.
Did everyone know what these two were to each other? Elle's head felt lighter than air; as if it had become detached from her body.
Barbara . . . Babs smiled warmly and leaned in . . . They were almost nose to nose as it was! Why was she leaning in further? Elle felt like she was the witness to a particularly tragic car accident. She couldn't seem to look away, and she began to wonder if maybe she was the unwitting victim crushed beneath the tangle.
"Apparently not, dear. I remember seeing in the paper a while ago that he was seeing some Chicago heiress . . ."
Black spots were dancing across her vision and the voices around her sounded muted now; as if they were coming from far away.
"Are you sure? They look pretty chummy to me."
"Miss Hamilton? . . . Miss Hamilton?" Charlotte placed a hand on Elle's arm; attempting to draw her attention back to her. "Are you all right, dear? You're looking a bit faint. Do you need to sit down?"
Then, as Elle watched, she kissed him . . . Babs kissed him! Dick didn't move; didn't protest; didn't . . .
Her vision blurred.
"I-I can't . . . I need to . . . Um, Where is the restroom? Please?" Elle stammered, abruptly tearing her eyes away.
She would never . . . Could never . . .
But then the bond worked differently for her, didn't it? Dick could walk away if he truly desired it. He would suffer a bit, but he could leave and eventually regain his life. Elle? Not so much.
"You look a little peaked," Charlotte said to her.
"I . . . Um, haven't been sleeping well. Grief and all of that," Elle told her. "You understand, of course."
The woman was immediately sympathetic. "Oh yes! I'm so sorry, dear. I'm impressed that you bothered to show up at all, considering everything."
"You're the wife of a powerful man," Elle said. "It is much the same for the daughter of such a man. Sometimes we must hold our head up and soldier on despite what goes on in our hearts. It's what is expected of us."
"So true, Miss Hamilton. That is so true. You are wise beyond your years."
Elle wanted to correct her. She wasn't wise at all; otherwise she would know what to do right now, and right now she was clueless. Struggling with her inner turmoil, Elle reminded Charlotte a little desperately, "The ladies' room, please?"
Dick pulled away from the kiss first; growing uncomfortable.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Dick glanced up at the tall, blond man standing beside the two of them holding two glasses. The elusive date . . .
Pain. Sharp as a knife stabbed Dick in the chest. Sadness and fear rolled over him, nearly making him stumble as he leapt to his feet.
"Dick, what is it?" Babs gasped. "What's wrong?"
He glanced around at the crowds and cursed himself for a fool. Why would he think that she would be safe without someone to watch over her? Had Aiden managed to get into the party somehow? He shouldn't have left her without explaining to Bruce or Tim the need to stand guard over her until he returned. He couldn't believe that bastard had the balls to show up here, in Gotham City, and crash Bruce's party!
But even as the fear that Aiden might be confronting Elle crossed his mind; Dick questioned its authenticity. This felt different than before . . . This felt . . .
Oh shit!
His eyes darted around the room once more, still searching for Elle, but this time, he knew it wasn't her brother hurting her, but him!
Had she seen him talking to Babs? Had she seen that stupid kiss? How could he have forgotten that she might be watching? That conversation, without hearing what was really being said, would have appeared damning to her.
"Dick?"
He glanced down at Babs almost absentmindedly. "I think that Elle might have seen that."
"Seen what," Babs frowned at him.
"Seen that kiss," her date answered for him. "You know, if I wasn't perfectly confident in myself, it might have sent me running for the door," the blond man said.
Unhelpfully, in Dick's opinion.
Babs' green eyes widened behind her glasses. She apparently hadn't considered what that kiss might have looked like to the casual observer; let alone to someone who might have had an emotional investment in one of them.
"Oh! Oh no, Dick! I'm sorry," Babs told him.
She looked like she was regretful at any rate. Dick didn't think Babs would have purposely tried to sabotage his relationship. It didn't matter anyway because this was his fault. He hadn't been thinking clearly. He had only hoped to apologize to Babs and possible repair their friendship.
He was an idiot!
The ballroom was large, but if he could still feel her, it meant she hadn't left yet. Maybe he could find her. He would head for the entrance to see if he could locate her.
"Do you think she would leave?"
He hoped to hell not. Call him paranoid, but he wouldn't put it past her brother to try and confront her again. It was his paranoia that had saved her from further injury the other night.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I got this flash of pain, but it didn't feel like a physical hurt. Witnessing that kiss would explain it, however."
"You might try explaining that comment to us, then, because I have no idea what you are talking about." The blond man muttered.
Babs looked up at him and took his hand. "Oh, I guess I should introduce you. Dick, this is Agent Carter Lowell out of the DEA. He's my date for the evening. Carter, this is Dick Grayson . . ."
"Richard Grayson-Wayne, the eldest adopted son of Bruce Wayne," Carter held out his hand. "Yes, I know who you are."
Dick shook his hand distractedly. "Likewise, I'm sure. Um, look Babs, I really need to find her. She could get into trouble out on her own like this."
Babs frowned at his choice of words. "Trouble? What sort of trouble?"
"The sort that would just as soon see her hit by a bus than to speak with her," he growled.
"You're kidding me . . ." she said. Her eyes widened. "No. No, you're not."
"I've got to go. I need to find her." Dick started to move away.
"Dick, wait!" Babs called out; wheeling herself after him. "Let Carter and me help you find her. This is my fault, too."
"You've never met her before," Dick said.
"I know what she looks like," Babs told him. "I saw your picture in the paper with her, and I saw you two dancing earlier, so I know what she's wearing."
"Fine," Dick nodded. "Tell her not to leave without either Tim, Bruce, or I to escort her. I'll meet her near the champagne fountain. Call me if you find her." Dick moved off without a second glance.
It was all she could do not to run.
Elle could feel Dick's sudden awareness of her upset and confusion. She knew without looking that he was turning around searching for her. Concern, worry, a touch of fear, perhaps. She should feel comforted that he cared enough for her that she could still divert his attention, but all she felt was the urgent need to be alone.
She needed to regain a little control; find her center; bury the hurt so deeply that even she didn't feel it anymore. She darted between people, careful to keep bodies between her and the last place she had seen him.
"Elle? What's wrong? Where are you going?"
Tim's voice. She couldn't stop now. The boy would hound her for information. She turned her face away and plowed onward.
She entered the room, but there were several other women already in there; gossiping or reapplying makeup. Elle spotted an open stall. She slammed the door behind her; ignoring the protests of the women who had been ahead of her in line. Almost immediately her upset settled into her stomach, and she hunched over the toilet and vomited.
Oh God, not this again! She braced her hand against the wall and retched again.
"Hmph, apparently some women cannot hold their liquor," came a complaint from the other side.
Elle wiped her mouth and sat down on the seat, shaking. What was wrong with her? This was several days after the Chinese food incident. She barely ate all day! How could she still be sick? Resting her head in her hands, she wondered about how the least little thing seemed to result in nausea . . . and fatigue! She could barely finish a dance without becoming breathless.
She never got sick!
Then again, neither did her father . . . At least not more than a day or two in all her memories. The man had had the constitution of a bull! Until . . . Until a few months ago. And now he was dead! She frowned thinking back on the symptoms he had first exhibited.
Dizziness, fatigue . . . but not nausea. At least not right away. Even as relief flooded her that this wasn't the illness that took her father from her; Elle began to worry for the first time about what it was that had been plaguing her for the last week or so.
Carter looked at Barbara. "You want to explain all that to me?"
"I'm not sure I can, but maybe we can help him locate her," Babs told him. "He looked really worried."
"You cannot realize how strange of a date I am finding this is turning out to be," Carter complained. "Who is this woman that I'm looking for and how will I know her?"
"Have you ever heard of Arabella Hamilton?"
Carter's brow rose. "Out of Chicago? Daughter of Cedric Hamilton? Brother of Aiden Hamilton of Hamilton Industries?"
It was Barbara's turn to look surprised. "How do you know her?"
Carter pursed his lips and then shrugged. It wasn't as if the woman before him wasn't perfectly capable of hacking his system and finding out the information anyway.
"There is an ongoing investigation into the brother. So far, he's managed to avoid being implicated in some shady business, but we're ever hopeful," Carter told her quietly. "I must admit that I would welcome the opportunity to chat with the elusive Arabella Hamilton."
"Hm," Babs looked at him oddly. "This is a strange date, indeed."
Carter smiled. "I'll make it up to you at midnight," he promised with a wink.
Barbara felt a blush rising, and coughed to hide her laugh. "Deal. You head towards the refreshment table and this side of the dance floor. I'm going to head to the ladies' room first and look for her on my way there."
The look on his face made her clarify. "Being upset in a public setting like this, most women would duck into the ladies' room for a bit of privacy."
"Ah, that makes sense, then," Carter said.
"I'm surprised you didn't know that," Barbara said, turning her wheelchair in the direction of the restrooms.
"I might have, but I'll admit the DEA doesn't investigate as many women as we do men. Although I'm certain that our female agents were aware of this tidbit, this will be helpful for the male agents to remember when tracking a girlfriend or wife. Thanks for the advice."
"Anytime," Barbara called out to him; amused. "Always glad to help out the DEA."
Babs rolled into the women's restroom just as the last few ladies were exiting. Arabella Hamilton wasn't among them. For a moment, she thought she might join them in leaving. The bathroom seemed to be deserted. But there were five stalls with their doors closed.
Opening her clutch, Barbara pulled out her compact mirror and opened it. Holding it down, she rolled herself slowly by each of the empty stalls. Empty, that was, until the fourth one, next to the handicap stall. She closed the compact and rolled her chair silently to the side to wait. A set of knees were hardly enough to discern their owner's identity. Truthfully, she thought Dick's panicked reaction seemed a little excessive. It was possible the other woman just needed to use the john, and he was making a fuss over nothing.
After a minute or two of silence and the woman in the stall still refused to exit, Babs began to get concerned. What was she doing in there?
Almost as if in answer, she heard the soft sounds of weeping.
Oh, shit . . . Her thoughts echoing those of Dick's. She did see us.
Guilt swamped her, although she didn't know why. There had been nothing in that kiss. It had been merely one of forgiveness and a goodbye to a relationship that had been doomed from the start. Of course, Arabella had no way of knowing that.
Barbara sighed aloud. The weeping stopped and the restroom was silent again. She had thought she was alone. Now she knows that she isn't. Babs rolled her eyes. Just sitting here was ridiculous! Arabella obviously knew someone was in here with her.
"It's okay," she said. "You can come out. It's just you and me in here."
"No. I'm fine. I-I just need a few minutes alone, please."
The words were soft; almost musical. Barbara caught herself moving to leave the bathroom in response to the request. She stopped. That wouldn't accomplish anything.
"I'm not going anywhere," Babs warned her.
The sigh was loud. The feet moved and the door opened. Arabella stood in the opening and stared down at the redhead. Strangely, the running mascara did nothing to detract from the younger woman's beauty; something that was even more noticeable close up.
"I-I'm sorry," Elle surprised Babs by saying.
"For what? You didn't do anything," The other woman corrected her. "If anything, I should probably apologize to you."
Instead of answering, Elle walked to the mirror and, taking a paper towel, began repairing the damage her tears had caused. Since when had she gotten so emotional?
How could she explain the bond or her voice? Sure, Barbara Gordon must be used to unusual concepts, but maybe not those that might have trapped the man she loved into a relationship with another woman.
Barbara rolled forward until she was next to Elle. "It wasn't what it looked like," she began.
Elle met her eyes in the mirror. "And what was that?"
"We . . . We're just friends," Barbara said a little helplessly.
Elle supposed that it sounded just as lame to her ears as it had to Elle's. "Ah, so that was just a friendly kiss as opposed to . . . the unfriendly kind?"
Babs pulled off her glasses. "I'm not some random girl," she said. "Dick wouldn't . . ."
Elle was curious as to why she stopped, and why her face flushed. "I know who you are."
Babs looked at Elle, surprised once again in about as many minutes. "Dick told you about me?"
"Not exactly," Elle admitted. "Look, I didn't mean to come between you two. I didn't know about you when I met him."
Barbara waved her hand. "There is no two of us. There hasn't been for a very long time. In fact, tonight was the first time I had seen him face-to-face in ten months for so. It wasn't a pleasant ending." She winced a bit. "To be honest, it was rather messy."
Elle glanced at her startled, and hope began to plug the hole in her heart.
"We were never meant to be," Barbara told her. "It just took us a while to come to that conclusion. That kiss . . ." she sighed, "It was meant to be a kind of forgiveness for the way things ended and a . . . goodbye of sorts."
"Goodbye?"
"We tried and failed too many times. It never worked out." She shrugged. "It's better this way."
Remembering that this woman was now Oracle, and who monitored all of Nightwing's activities, Elle grew worried. Would Dick lose her as backup now?
"You'll stay friends, though, right," she asked carefully.
Babs studied her in the mirror. They had yet to look at each other directly. "That wouldn't bother you?"
Part of her thought it would, but the other part remembered Dick's grand gesture of throwing away the engagement ring he had bought for the other woman.
"No," Elle said, although her voice was a bit weak. She cleared it. "No, it wouldn't bother me," she said again.
Barbara looked at her suspiciously. "Are you sure?"
Frustrated, Elle slapped her hands onto the sink and glared. "No! I'm not sure! But I need him to be safe out there each night, so that means he needs you to be speaking to him! I am not so selfish as to deny him much needed backup and put him in even more danger than is absolutely necessary."
Barbara's eyes widened and she glanced at the door to the restroom.
"No one is in here except for us," Elle told her. "I'm not a fool, you know. Neither am I an airhead. I know how to keep a secret. But I also need to know that you won't abandon him in a fit of pique just because you are angry or jealous or whatever it is you're feeling toward us."
"I can't believe he told you," she muttered.
"I don't think he planned to, but it wouldn't have matter in the end. I would have figured it out sooner or later," Elle finally turned away from the mirror and faced her. "But no more kissing, 'kay? Not in forgiveness or for goodbyes; not even under the mistletoe. Got it?"
Babs looked at the woman in front of her with new eyes. She wasn't the weak, weepy, drama queen that Babs had assumed she was upon entering the restroom despite her earlier tears. The woman in front of her brooked no argument. Babs wondered briefly what she would do if she refused to her perfectly reasonable terms.
She let the moment pass, however. There had been enough drama for the evening. It was getting close to midnight, and Dick was probably worrying about them both. She wondered, if he were to place a bet on which of them would come out on top, who he would pick.
Her lips quirked. Dick was loyal to a fault, she knew . . . He would pick Arabella.
And she was okay with that. That was how it was supposed to be.
But she would have words for him next time he was on patrol for letting her identity slip. It didn't matter if it were to his girlfriend; Oracle was not a name to be bandied about.
"Not for any reason," Babs asked. She couldn't resist teasing her, just a tiny bit.
Arabella Hamilton, or 'Elle' as Dick called her, narrowed her eyes in what could only be described as a threatening manner. Considering that the younger woman certainly understood that Barbara Gordon was no pushover in whatever guise she wore, wheelchair or no, she couldn't help but be impressed.
"Not for any reason, right. Got it," Babs told her. "We better get out there. The boys are probably wondering where we are."
Arabella finished reapplying her mascara. She looked at Babs in the mirror again.
"Boys?"
"My date and Dick," Babs explained as they moved back out into the ballroom. The party was reaching a crescendo. Only ten minutes until midnight.
"You came with a date?"
Babs grinned. The comment hadn't been said with disbelief, but rather with a wistful hopefulness.
"I'll introduce you once we find your frantic boyfriend."
Elle followed the other woman from the restroom. She thought about correcting her. Dick was her fiancé, not her boyfriend. Her lips quirked up into the first real smile since seeing Dick speaking to his old flame.
Her mind made up, she would locate Bruce at the first opportunity. New Year's Eve seemed suddenly like the perfect time to confirm and clarify those rumors and announce her and Dick's engagement. And she knew that she wanted to be standing next to this woman when it came.
Perhaps, despite everything, Elle could find something to celebrate tonight after all. She thought that perhaps her father would even approve. Maybe it wasn't a Siren that dwelt within her but a shark!
REACTIONS?
I thought that this will be a good spot to take a smallish break. I've entered a Young Justice writing contest (Yay! Young Dick Grayson!), and need to spend some time to get that story written and edited before the deadline at the end of January. This will be a (hopefully) short story and full of both fun, adventure, some serious angst and a bit of drama, and with enough whump! for everyone . . . *It should be published for you at the beginning of February already completed!*
I will be back as soon as that story is done. I am hoping to answer all those questions and theories and worries about what the future holds for Dick and Elle. In the meantime, again, feel free to PM me and please, please, PLEASE review and fave if you are enjoying it! Don't make me wait long! I love hearing from all of you . . .
And I really miss hearing from all of my guest readers! Where are you? Are you still happy with the story? Let me know . . .
MERRY CHRISTMAS! Or Happy Hanukkah! or whatever holiday you may celebrate at this time of the year! And a very Happy New Year!