Chapter Text
Barbara sat at her computer, monitoring the criminal activity in Gotham’s underworld. There was a particular spike in the Penguin’s area, but instead of notifying Batman, she simply sighed and rubbed her temples. It had been nearly six months since Bruce Wayne had gone missing, and so it had been nearly six months since Batman had gone missing, as well. Luckily, Dick Grayson had been filling in here and there so no one was suspicious, but there wasn’t much else he could do as he was busy protecting Blüdhaven.
Barbara cracked her knuckles and relaxed against her wheelchair. She wished she could do more than sit and watch Gotham’s insanity, but ever since the Joker had paralyzed her from the waist down, she had to hang up her cowl and retire to the moniker “Oracle,” helping the rest of the heroes from behind a screen. She knew that they could never achieve the success that they had without her, but still, her heart was saddened when she saw them fighting and bringing criminals to justice without her.
Slowly, she turned herself around and made her way to the old grandfather clock that led into Wayne Manor. She knocked on it three times and waited a moment before Alfred pulled open the secret entrance.
“Hello Ms. Gordon,” he said politely. “Do you require my assistance?”
”No thank you, Alfred. I was just heading out for the night.” He frowned a bit before responding.
”Has anything changed?”
”No,” she sighed. “Penguin is still at large, as well as the Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, the Mad Hatter, Bane, and Black Mask.” Alfred scowled.
”That’s two more than last night.”
”Scarecrow and Black Mask escaped a few days ago, but they didn’t start causing trouble until tonight. Just be glad that Joker is still locked up tight in Arkham.”
”I suppose that is one blessing we can still count,” he said softly. The two looked at each other a moment. Alfred was silent. Just as Barbara began to wheel herself away, he spoke.
”Is there any sign of him? Anything at all?” His eyes were nearly overflowing with tears, but his voice did not shake.
”No. There’s no trace of him anywhere. I’m sorry.” Sadness crossed the butler’s face, and in that moment, he looked older than anyone Barbara knew. His hair was somehow more grey with stress than white with age, and new lines had formed on his forehead and along his mouth. Shadows lurked beneath his eyes, and his eyes themselves were distant and unresponsive, like they weren’t taking in everything around him. He was so worn in that moment that, for the first time in a long time, Barbara wanted to mourn Bruce’s disappearance.
”Well,” he said at last, “it’s not your fault. None of this is anyone’s fault.” Even as he said this, he looked to her for confirmation. She nodded.
”None of this is anyone’s fault,” she repeated, and she continued to repeat this as she went through the mansion, and still continued as she wheeled down the slope that was made for her, out into the driveway, and into her car. Barbara herself could not drive (for obvious reasons) but luckily, her superhero boyfriend had quite the talent in making new things to help her.
Babs lifted herself out of her chair and into the driver’s seat, reaching down to pull her chair into the large back of her car. She buckled herself in, grabbed the keys from her bag, turned the ignition, and, using her hands, slid her feet into the “fake legs” that Dick had made for her, though she had named the contraption Lexi. As soon her feet were in place, Lexi came to life, emitting a soft blue glow. Barbara put the car in reverse.
”Push the gas,” she said, loud enough so that Lexi could register the command. She pulled out of the parking space and took the car out of reverse. “Stop.” She readjusted the wheel and got ready to turn onto the street. “Okay, push the gas.”
”Speed?”
“Forty miles per hour.” She started off down the drive, Lexi gaining speed as they pulled onto the road. They cruised on forty mph once they were completely out of the driveway. The drive back to her house was a short but boring one, so Barbara reached down and turned on the radio. Camila Cabello’s voice flooded her car.
It's you, babe
And I'm a sucker for the way that you move, babe
And I could try to run, but it would be useless
You're to blame
Just one hit of you, I knew I'll never be the same
It's you, babe
And I'm a sucker for the way that you move, babe
And I could try to run, but it would be useless
You're to blame
Just one hit of you, I knew I'll never ever, ever be the same
I'll never be the same
I'll never be the same
I'll never be the same
Barbara wasn’t the biggest fan of pop music. She didn’t like the repeated themes or the meaningless words thrown around in them, but she connected to a part of this song. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she would never be the same. She couldn’t be. Bruce was gone, and he may never be back. She might never see him or hear his voice, and though she had a father of her own, he had filled that role when Commissioner Gordon couldn’t. She loved Bruce more than she could possibly say, just like she loved Dick and Alfred and Tim. Just as she loved Cassandra and Stephanie and Damian and even Jason, though he wasn’t who he used to be. She loved them all so much, but it was Bruce who had started it all. It was Bruce who had brought them all together, and without him, what were they? What was she? Now that he was gone, what difference could she make, little Barbara Gordon, shot and paralyzed, stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life? What could she possibly do? She wasn’t reliant on Bruce, but she wasn’t stupid either. She realized that without him or someone out in field, she couldn’t do anything but watch and inform the police of incoming attacks.
Bruce had allowed her to become who she had always wanted to be: a hero. And now, without him to encourage and train her, she knew she would never be the same. After all the horror she had seen because of the Joker, her mother, Jason, even her days as Batgirl, she could never be the girl she once was. She was older now, and wiser, and more afraid than ever. But she had to be strong. For Alfred. For Dick. For herself.
Barnara saw her apartment complex in the distance and told Lexi to slow down to a crawl. She pulled into the driveway and waited for the gate to open.
“Verification code, please,” a kind voice said through a speaker.
”Two-seven-five-two.”
”One moment.” The gate swung open and she told Lexi to drive on. Soon enough, they reached her designated parking spot, and she reached around to pull her chair from the backseat. When her chair was situated on the ground, she thanked Lexi, told her goodnight (she was sentimental and had a special bond with her robo-feet), turned off the car and plopped herself down into the wheelchair. Barbara put her calloused hands on the wheels and pushed her way to her apartment, which was, thank god, on the first level. Inserting her key into the lock, she pushed open the door and wheeled inside.
Her apartment was small, with a couch to her immediate left and a dinner table to her right. A tiny kitchen was tucked away in the far right corner, the marble counter top blocking most of her view. She made her way down the narrow hall, spinning her wheels so that they didn’t catch on an upturned floor board. She turned left into her bathroom and shut the door behind her. She undid her hair from the ponytail and took off her glasses. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and headed into her bedroom. Her bed was in the middle of the back wall, a dresser with mirror to its right, a closet with two doors to its left. She changed into an old t-shirt and loose cotton pants, slowly lifting herself out of her chair and into bed. She grabbed a book and began to read, if only just to pass the time.
Unfortunately though, her mind began to wander. Where did Bruce go? Why did he leave? Was he in trouble? These questions haunted her mind and plagued her thoughts until finally, at nearly two o’clock in the morning, she fell unconscious, but not asleep. She didn’t dream, and she wasn’t rested when she awoke, but her conscious simply refused to continue answering her brain’s questions.
Her alarm beeped after what seemed like five minutes to her. Six-thirty. She didn’t want to get up. It was a Saturday after all, she only was awake in the first place because she forgot to turn off her alarm. In fact, Barbara would’ve stayed in bed if her phone hadn’t chimed so uncharacteristicly. She didn’t have many friends, so who could be texting her, especially at this hour? She reached for her phone, eyes scanning over the screen. She paused.
Read it a second time.
Then a third.
She was about to read it again when Dick messaged her.
Have you read the news?
Yeah.
This is very not good.
No shit, Sherlock.
Barbara looked down at her phone’s previous alert again, trying to decide if she was imagining it or not. After all, the universe couldn’t hate her that much, could it?
JOKER HAS ESCAPED FROM ARKHAM:
ALERT BATMAN?
She hit “no.” What else could she do?
What can I do, Babs?
I don’t know, Dick. Aren’t there tons of escapees in Blüdhaven right now?
Yeah, but they can wait if you need my help.
No, they can’t. You know it just as much as I do
... You’re right. What are we gonna do? Can you contact Tim?
He hasn’t answered his phone since Bruce’s disappearance, Damian is off somewhere with Talia, Steph and Cass are doing their own thing with Batwoman, and I don’t know where the hell Jason is. I’m alone, Dick.
I’m sure you can think of something, Babs. You always do.
I don’t think I can this time.
...
Dick?
... Shit.