divine-my-own-future:

likeamantra:

He leaned against the brick wall, one foot kicked against the wall, as she ran down the list of things she thought he should do. He let her talk, let her finish. 

“That’s the thing, Batsie. I’m a bat, just not his bat.”

He unzipped his worn brown leather jacket, revealing the upper half of his black armor. The stylized bat he’d put there as a last minute decision was muted, bloodred. His voice was low as he responded to her.

"I’m not a sign of hope, some urban legend to frighten the weak. I’m a warning, a sign of what will happen to evil.” 

Zipping the leather back up, he shook his head, slowly.

"I’ll only go to him if I’m desperate. But you? You’re different. You’re independent. Headstrong. Doesn’t seem like you take much shit from anyone above you. I respect that." 

Pulling out a basic prepaid phone, he tossed it to her, watching it sail through the air.

"There’s only one number in it. Anytime you want some help, call it. I’ll show up.”

Stepping forward, he brushed past her, hand lingering just a second on her hip as he strode by. Turning his head back, he nearly whispered, letting the words float behind him.

“Thanks for the assist, Batsie. See you around.”

Barbara sneered, hint of a smile playing at her lips as she shook her head. “You only think you aren’t a symbol of hope. I’m sure that girl in there would argue differently.” Snatching the phone midair, she gave it a once over before tucking it into her belt. No acknowledgement beyond a quick nod of her head was made. As much as her mind was telling her it was a bad idea, you didn’t discard allies. Truthfully, if their last meeting was any proof, she needed all the assistance she could get.

His hand swept against her, and she swallowed back a lump, her beating heart pushing against her ribs. She stared at him for longer than was comfortable, her posture stiff. Barbara didn’t respond to his farewell, the words too twisted in her mouth.  As soon as he was out of sight, she turned toward the wall and slammed her fist against the brick. Wincing, she walked back into the clinic, rubbing her swelling knuckles.

One day her temperament would get the better of her. Until then she would continue making stupid, impulsive mistakes.

Barbara sat with the young woman as she came out of the recovery unit, holding her hand and reading from the outdated magazine pile. Tonight had been a bruise to her ego, especially since it was clear the girl would have preferred it if Hood had stayed instead of her. She took it in stride, though, too exhausted to care.

It was well past dawn when Barbara made her way home, tired, worn eyes barely able to stay open. Her normally busy mind was finally quiet enough to allow her rest, no matter how fleeting it would be. 

[COMPLETED]

divine-my-own-future:

Arms had been crossed and uncrossed over her chest at least a half dozen times, weight shifting from one leg to the other. If she didn’t feel like Hood would immediately call her out, she would have anxiously began pacing up and down the dilapidated sidewalk.  She still had a few ounces of dignity left, although they were hanging on by a thread. Instead, she opted to lean against the cool brick of the old building, hazy vision spanning up to the darkened sky.

It took more than a few moments to gather her thoughts and even then they weren’t exactly clear in her head. There was still part of her that felt like she should have stayed behind; a guilt that was eating into her gut. She’d had that feeling more and more lately; perhaps it was a side effect of her new persona. Or maybe it was just her empathy kicking into overdrive.

Hood’s gratitude, spoken practically under his breath and thrown into the night air, startled her.  Barbara didn’t show it, but it was definitely surprising.  Of course, he’d done nothing but do that exact same thing since the night they’d met. This was beginning to become a theme: the Red Hood consistently defying her expectations.

Rubbing her eyes with the heels of gloved palms, she pushed herself off the masonry, one eyebrow arched up in question. “Yeah, you kind of did piss me off. If you wanted to use someone solely for their symbolism or name,” She pointed to the bat on her chest with her index finger. “You should have gone directly to him.” Crouching down, she ran her hands over the mismatched pavement. “I don’t need a sidekick.” Barbara stared at the ground for several silent moments before snapping her head up towards the helmeted man. “You should go have them check your wound. As many gadgets and tools as I have in my belt, I don’t have a doctor.” A tiny smile pulled at her mouth as she slowly stood up.

“I don’t need a sidekick. But I wouldn’t say no to assistance with patrol. We could always add some bat ears to your helmet.”

He leaned against the brick wall, one foot kicked against the wall, as she ran down the list of things she thought he should do. He let her talk, let her finish. 

“That’s the thing, Batsie. I’m a bat, just not his bat.”

He unzipped his worn brown leather jacket, revealing the upper half of his black armor. The stylized bat he’d put there as a last minute decision was muted, bloodred. His voice was low as he responded to her.

“I’m not a sign of hope, some urban legend to frighten the weak. I’m a warning, a sign of what will happen to evil." 

Zipping the leather back up, he shook his head, slowly.

"I’ll only go to him if I’m desperate. But you? You’re different. You’re independent. Headstrong. Doesn’t seem like you take much shit from anyone above you. I respect that." 

Pulling out a basic prepaid phone, he tossed it to her, watching it sail through the air.

"There’s only one number in it. Anytime you want some help, call it. I’ll show up.”

Stepping forward, he brushed past her, hand lingering just a second on her hip as he strode by. Turning his head back, he nearly whispered, letting the words float behind him.

“Thanks for the assist, Batsie. See you around.”

divine-my-own-future:

Her eyes were searching the ground, trying to grasp at thoughts that just weren’t coming. Her mind felt like it was a sieve; anything and everything filtering through tiny holes, slowly filling up with nothing but useless information. Typically she did well under pressure, but Hood had this knack for making her feel like an amateur. Like a child. It was obvious she had little control over this situation and it was grating, infuriating.

Choking down her ego for the second time that evening, Barbara rose from her crouch. She bit back the urge to reply with a snarky quip about how it was obvious he was just using her for her reputation and reputation alone. She’d know better next time. This wasn’t the place.

“Yeah, it’s safe.” The statement was huffed out, tinged with hints of bitterness and fatigue. She was hesitant to leave the young women here, but the sirens in the distance gave her some reassurance. Eyes raked over the group of girls, huddling together and she could feel her heart swell with anger and sorrow.

Tonight was more than a reality check. It had been a blow; the kind of hit that knocks you on your ass, and sends you spiraling in a direction you could never foresee. Like an uppercut to the chin that forced you to re-evaluate everything you thought you knew about the world. She hated those the most. Barbara had always been certain of herself, and her situations. Most of all, she was certain of what she knew. And damn if this Red Hood character didn’t have a way of mucking all of that up.

Nodding her head, Barbara began walking to the other side of the building. “Let’s go.”

Less than an hour later, they had reached the clinic, where a kindly older woman took the Russian girl with no questions, murmuring softly in a dialect that Jason recognized, but didn’t speak. 

That left Batgirl and him alone, standing somewhat awkwardly outside the neon glow of a “Safe Haven” sign that pulsed with the unreliable electricity that only Crime Alley could supply.

“Thanks, Batsie." 

It was mumbled, humble. He knew that he very well could have died if not for her timely rescue, and he wouldn’t forget it. His side hurt like hell, and he considered taking a brief refuge in the clinic, if for no other reason than he could pass a few hours of the pain away under sedation.

He eyed her, through the lenses of his helmet. She was hunched, though trying not to appear so. Angry. Biting her lip, mulling over hidden thoughts that swirled in between those pointy ears.

"I know I pissed you off tonight, Batsie. Let me make it up to you. I’ll give you three nights, of your choice. Your sidekick. Take it or leave it.”

divine-my-own-future:

Barbara had tried to push the sounds of steel slicing skin out of her mind, but it was more than a little distracting. She winced, swallowing hard, desperate to keep her attention on the young woman. The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen – if that. Tentatively, Barbara had reached for her hand before the girl snapped it away, trembling, and as much as she understood, it still stung. It was beyond frustrating being unable to communicate with the girl, to tell her that she meant her no harm, she was just trying to help. So when Hood approached, Barbara was secretly relieved, even if her pride suffered.

Brows furrowed in astonishment as the girl easily let Hood cradle her in his arms, and had the situation been different she may have been resentful or bitter. Now wasn’t the time for egos, though, and Barbara nodded at the Red Hood’s request. She sprinted for the exit, eyes scanning the lot for the group of girls – spotting them all huddled together on the broken asphalt.

“There’s a place in midtown, a clinic. Anonymous, low profile. Should be safe.” Propping open the door, she waited for Hood and the girl to pass through before securing the area. Heading in the direction of the group, she swept the perimeter, ensuring they didn’t have any unexpected tails. Barbara crouched down, running a gentle hand over the shoulder of one of the sobbing young women. “You going to be able to take her with that injury?” Eyes flicked to the man’s side. “I can stay here with them, make sure they’re safe until the authorities arrive, if you can handle it.”

He didn’t catch the resentment in her pose, so occupied with his injuries and the girl. Shaking his head, he spoke just through the comms, not wanting to alarm the girl with more indecipherable language.

“They won’t trust me if I go alone. Someone needs to go with me, and it’s gotta be you. Otherwise…” He glanced down at the girl, frightened and clinging to his neck. “I don’t think she’ll make it. Is your clinic safe? Can I stay there with her, at least until she gets into surgery?”

He didn’t mention that he himself needed attention; it seemed obvious. 

“Look. The cops can handle this, right? Case like this, Gordon or at least Chandler will be here. They can take care of it.” He paused, his next words bouncing around his skull before he spoke them. 

“I need your help again, Batsie. Just drive the truck to your clinic, introduce me and her. Then you can ghost.”