Barbara Gordon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twiceahero) wrote2009-03-08 12:55 pm
twiceahero) wrote2009-03-08 12:55 pm
Entry tags:
One last, not so good, option
Barbara isn't sure how long it's been since she cut her connection with Dinah. She's been on the move since then.
The submarine is filling up fast. As last stands went this one had gone pretty well. Except for that bullet in her leg. That wasn't such a good thing. But she'd definitely cut this one too close. Her primary and secondary exits had been blocked by Blockbuster's goon squad, and her tertiary exit was now under water.
Under water meant swimming. A long and difficult swim. Which would be hard enough for someone with functioning legs. But the sub is filling up fast, and it's that or give up and drown, and Barbara Gordon doesn't know how to give up.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out, then another. Each one stretching her lungs and diaphragm a little further than the last. The fifth one she clamps her teeth down over and dives.
The first part, the part inside the submarine, isn't so bad. She knows how the boat's laid out and there are plenty of handholds to use to pull herself along. But that doesn't mean the trip isn't a long one. By the time she reaches the hatch her lungs have stopped burning and black dots are swimming in front of her eyes.
It takes precious seconds to figure out which way is up. It would only take a few strong kicks to reach the surface, but that's definitely not an option. Babs begins clawing at the water, desperate to get enough purchase to make it those last twenty-five feet.
Progress is slow, and it's getting harder to think, and harder not to give in to the panic her body wants so badly. She loses track of the time, and even of where she is, as the oxygen reaching her brain runs out. Did her hand break the surface? She's not sure, but she is sure that it doesn't matter. She doesn't have the energy to fight any more.
I'm sorry, Dinah and I'll miss you, Dick and I love you, dad and It's not your fault jumble up in her head. It's not how she'd imagined things would end.
The submarine is filling up fast. As last stands went this one had gone pretty well. Except for that bullet in her leg. That wasn't such a good thing. But she'd definitely cut this one too close. Her primary and secondary exits had been blocked by Blockbuster's goon squad, and her tertiary exit was now under water.
Under water meant swimming. A long and difficult swim. Which would be hard enough for someone with functioning legs. But the sub is filling up fast, and it's that or give up and drown, and Barbara Gordon doesn't know how to give up.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out, then another. Each one stretching her lungs and diaphragm a little further than the last. The fifth one she clamps her teeth down over and dives.
The first part, the part inside the submarine, isn't so bad. She knows how the boat's laid out and there are plenty of handholds to use to pull herself along. But that doesn't mean the trip isn't a long one. By the time she reaches the hatch her lungs have stopped burning and black dots are swimming in front of her eyes.
It takes precious seconds to figure out which way is up. It would only take a few strong kicks to reach the surface, but that's definitely not an option. Babs begins clawing at the water, desperate to get enough purchase to make it those last twenty-five feet.
Progress is slow, and it's getting harder to think, and harder not to give in to the panic her body wants so badly. She loses track of the time, and even of where she is, as the oxygen reaching her brain runs out. Did her hand break the surface? She's not sure, but she is sure that it doesn't matter. She doesn't have the energy to fight any more.
I'm sorry, Dinah and I'll miss you, Dick and I love you, dad and It's not your fault jumble up in her head. It's not how she'd imagined things would end.
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Yep.
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Bless her for trying, though.
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He sounds mighty pleased with himself about that.
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But she knows that the other woman isn't going anywhere. And she can't quite bring herself to be upset about that. At least she won't have to face this alone.
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There's a triumphant chuckle in his voice. "So come out. Now."
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Dinah sets the woman down; she's been shot worse than it seemed; apparently her legs are currently completely useless. Part of Dinah takes a little satisfaction from this; she won't be able to stop what happens next.
"Well," she says, "it's been nice knowing you."
For all of five minutes. "We'll have to do this again sometime."
Her smile is bright, fond and cheerful. She could be dropping a friend off after a night on the tiles.
When she stands, her smile fades, and she turns her back on her friend.
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"I'm the one you want, big guy," she says, with her very best 'I don't know who Batman is' lie.
"I'm Oracle."
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If he's too late—
God, if he's too late!
No thought for concealment: "Barbara!"
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He wants to race over to her, lift her off the floor, promise he'll never leave her side again. He wants to smooth her hair off her face, hold her close, kiss her until everything is OK again.
He's still Nightwing.
They advance slowly, checking everything for a possible trap. Tim covers his back; Alfred keeps the shotgun raised.
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Instead she pushes herself up from the floor on arms that almost don't tremble.
"They're gone," she calls, a hint of her usual surety managing to creep into her voice.
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"You're sure?"
She's not being held at gunpoint - right?
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"They took her with them and then they left."
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She's safe.
Thank God.
Her words take a while to filter through; but then: "Took who, Babs?"
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She presses her face into his shoulder to hide her tears from the others. "Oh my God..." she mumbles weakly, "What have I done?"