Chapter Text
Suppressing a pained grunt, Barbara squeezes through the tight opening of the window, careful not to push it up further. “No better security system than a creaky window,” as he likes to say. With effort, she manages to enter the apartment silently. The only clue of her presence being the bloody handprints on the windowsill.
“Will have to clean that up later,” Barbara thinks, breathing ragged. “First priority…” She looks down at her hand pressed tightly to the knife wound. A mistake, she’s slipped up. Never should’ve been stabbed in the first place. Definitely not this deep.
As she slinks to the kitchen to find one of the many first aid kits stashed around, she reviews the night. Double Dare. Aliki and Margot Marceau. Acrobat thieves. No real history of violence, only a few run-ins with Dick. Stole from other criminals, occasionally worked for them for high end thievery or low threat bodyguard work. Keep a low profile with clean jobs and the occasional “assistance” for Nightwing. No sense they’d be carrying weapons but that sort of sudden change of heart isn’t unusual for the local costumes, Haven has a way of hardening. Odder still is getting involved with the gangs. Very dangerous work. What changed? Why? Desperation, money troubles? Coercion, blackmail? Mad Hatter? Unlikely. She’s very familiar with his work, no signs of it.
Should’ve never happened, stupid slip-up.
“You done patching up,” a strained voice breaks through Barbara’s review as she turns to the source, “or are you planning to bleed a little more on my floors?” Dick leans in the doorway, his weak smile attempting to mask his exhaustion as well as the concerned look in his eyes. Barbara flinches involuntarily at the look. The poorly disguised concern she’s all too familiar with.
“Just gotta stitch up and I’ll be good,” Barabara replies curtly. She always hated the pity, that feeling of brokenness she got when Dick would fuss over her. He quickly learned to try and hide it; although, any attempt was futile. She knew him too well for it to work, and some nights, especially ones like this, that attempt to hide it stung much worse. Tiptoeing around her like she had this fragile ego he couldn’t bear to upset.
“Here, let me.” Dick holds out his hand as he limps over to her. Growing tired from the blood loss, Barbara relents, not bothering to put up the usual fight of stubbornness they have when either gets hurt. She sits on top of the counter she was leaning on and hands him the supplies. Sitting in a chair, he starts to stitch her up.
After a moment of silence he asks, “Who got you?”
“Double Dare,” she responds weakly”
“Odd, why were they running with the gangs? And armed, at that?”
“No clue yet”
“Hm…” Dick continued his work in silence, a kindness. Much like Barabra knows he secretly loves her lectures she gives him after he gets hurt, Dick knows she needs her space and time to cool off. They knew each other well, sometimes too well, but on nights like these, that familiarity was a godsend. Knowing she could always rely on Dick made the weight that much lighter.
“Try to keep straight, I’m almost done here.” Dick’s voice squeezes through the haze quickly taking over Barbara. Light headed and on the verge of passing out, she just notices her body leaned over, hands bracing against Dick’s shoulders. With his help, she straightens, trying to focus on his face, tight with concentration and care, as she attempts to stay awake.
It helps briefly, yet ultimately doesn’t stop Barbara’s eyes from fluttering shut as her body leans forward once again. The last thing she remembers before she’s out is the feeling of her head softly resting against something warm and a faint, kind voice.
“You did good”