Who: Bruce and Babs What: Meeting. Where: Wayne Manor (The Batcave). When: Un recently. Warnings/Rating: None.
Babs stepped gingerly through the halls of Wayne Manor. It was a strange thing. She hadn’t felt this nervous in these halls in years. Then again, these weren’t exactly the halls she used to walk through.
It was beyond strange to think this wasn’t the manor she had known. Even moreso, these weren’t the people she had known. Some were older, some younger, some she hadn’t even met at all. It was natural to be wary here. This wasn’t familiar territory.
That didn’t make dealing with it any better.
Walking through the halls she abandoned any ideas of being more inconspicuous. Despite being dressed in all black - not her Batgirl suit, not yet, not until she figured out this multiple successor thing - her red hair spilled over her shoulders, a soft flame in the dark. Besides, this was Bruce’s manor. For all that could have changed, she doubted Bruce wouldn’t be himself if he couldn’t detect someone in his house.
Especially not someone heading straight toward the cave.
Bruce had become accustomed to no longer being the only one who walked these halls. Once, at a time that was rapidly seeming so long ago, only he and Alfred had occupied the sprawling mansion. Over the past year, however, others had moved in and out; their stays seemed temporary at best, and currently only Helena was a permanent occupant within these walls. But he understood, now, that it wasn’t just his Manor, and he no longer expected the Batfamily to knock before entering or act like they were guests who first needed to be invited in. Oh, part of him might always maintain a possessiveness over stone and mortar that couldn’t be rivaled, but he was no longer the cold, stony figure of a man who who loomed in the doorway and glared at whomever dared trespass upon family grounds.
Regardless of newfound family and strained ties, he still kept an almost paranoid eye on the grounds and the Manor itself, aware of every presence within, every sound, every blip in the security he had set up. He was in the Cave when Barbara’s presence was made evident to him, out of the Batsuit but still in slick black kevlar, light and weightless, an underlayer to the suit itself. It only took a few seconds to access visual, and while he’d never seen her in person before now (even with the other Barbara, he’d only ever heard her voice) the red hair was certainly a giveaway.
With the knowledge that only someone very, very skilled, or someone with previous familiarity with the Manor, was capable of getting inside, Bruce rose from his chair and stood, turned towards the entrance as he waited for her to appear. This was as good a time, and a place, to meet the newest addition to the Bat crew as any.
He was very much the same when she finally did see him, and Babs chided herself for the thought. This was Bruce, afterall. Differing universes the might be from, she should have suspected he would look the same. Even the cave didn’t seem all that different than times she had been there. Maybe it was her brain reconciling the differences to put her at ease but still. It made her smile.
“Surprise?” It couldn’t have been much of one. She didn’t know exactly when he would have caught onto her presence but she knew it wouldn’t have taken him too long. “I’d ask if you missed me but it seems we’ve never met.” Her long strides closed the distance between them soon enough and she lifted her chin to let her blue eyes appraise him. She wasn’t a short woman but the bats and birds she had known had a bad habit of towering over her. She’d merely grown used to it, and there wasn’t any trepidation in her face as she stood before him and looked up.
Then she stuck her hand out. “Might as well get the introduction right the first time.” Her smile grew wider, warmer than a first meetings usually warranted. “Babs. Batgirl the first.”
Over the past year, Bruce had faced a variety of reactions from the ones who had all seemed to know a different version of himself. Hostility had been most prominent; acceptance was rare in the early days, and even now it continued to elude him. Even over the journal, however, Barbara had seemed different. He didn’t doubt that she was disappointed he had never met her, but at least she hadn’t outright refused to accept his existence or inform him of all the ways he wasn’t the right Bruce Wayne. That might have in the past, but even old hurts still stung and being told he wasn’t who he was never quite faded from memory.
“No,” he agreed, “we haven’t, though I have heard a great deal about you.” He knew all about the first Batgirl, of course, even before the days when she became Oracle and adopted a different sort of method in the fight against crime. He liked that she looked at him with assured confidence, like the fact that he towered over most and had a gaze that could pierce stone didn’t bother her in the slightest. She appraised him and he did the same to her, noting the absence of anger or any sort of anxiety. He liked that, too.
The warmth in her smile surprised him, but he accepted her hand nonetheless. His grip was firm and sure, not softened for her sake, and his handshake was much of the same. “Bruce. Batman the first, and only.” Smiles weren’t commonplace with him, but he did manage a small one. “It’s good to meet you, Babs.” He tilted his head to the side. “That’s what you prefer, as opposed to Barbara?” He did wonder if she intended to take back the Batgirl title, and that reminded him of Eddie’s request that he defend Stephanie if need be. Really, he shouldn’t have worried; Bruce had every intention of doing just that.
“Babs,” she agreed with a grin. “Nicknames are easier in a pinch and we find ourselves in them a lot.” It was strange speaking so familiarly about their secret lives with a stranger, alluding to old times as if he had been on the same rooftops as her. Then again, he had been, in a way.
“Mind if I take a seat?” She didn’t exactly wait for a yes, sidling around him, almost going for the chair - already deducing it was his - and instead leaning on the side of the table. She wasn’t sure how long she was staying but she wasn’t planning on it being a long visit. Besides, she was hardly going to deprive the man of some rest after patrol. Not when he was still wearing his underarmor.
“I’d try to pick apart the differences between our Gothams but I think it’s too vast. We’d be here all day. But I do have some questions. Mind if I pick your brain?” He did offer to answer them some time ago. And it was high time someone helped her piece together some of the odder things she had been told.
Bruce realized, to the extent of his knowledge, that he didn’t have a nickname. Oh, he was sure there were names they called him behind his back, both out of harmless teasing and things more rooted in real bitterness and animosity, but he liked to think relations were at least marginally better on that front. “Yes, we do,” he agreed, because there was rarely any rest to be found in Gotham and it seemed, like a long row of dominoes, that crises seemed to follow each other in rapid succession, but he had never expected any different and in a way he thrived on it, even if a deep-seated part of him did, at times, wish for longer reprieves.
He shook his head when she asked if he minded her taking a seat, gesturing for her to sit wherever he liked. On his own, Bruce sat. With others, he did not, unless they too were sitting, but he had a tendency to prefer to remain standing, which he did now. She was right in thinking that there were a great many differences in their Gothams; smaller details, he thought, more so than glaring differences, but they existed all the same. “Of course,” he said. Questions were nothing less than he’d expected. “Ask whatever you like.”
Now they were both standing, well, half standing her case. The predicament made her shake her head but fondly so. So much for letting the man take the load off. Still, she wasn’t going to turn the offer down now and with one quick motion, she was seated in chair, pale fingers drumming on the rests.
Now that she had him, a multitude of questions sprung to mind. Concern over Jason and Dick. Musings about names that were only vaguely familiar with her, names that she associated with other cities, and seeing them pop up frequently. And then there was the matter of the rogues gallery she (thought she) knew so well. Maybe that was the most pressing issue, and she cut right to the heart of it.
“First things first, just how reformed is everyone around here?” Maybe she had to spell it out for him but between Catwoman asking her to look after Dick and her successor shacking up with Riddler, she thought he’d catch her drift.
Bruce knew there was an endless amount of potential questions at her fingertips, yet he was calm, prepared for whatever might come his way. Weight distributed evenly, comfortable, he had no need to lean against anything for support, and folding his arms over his chest was out of habit rather than any indication of displeasure. He didn’t seem surprised by where she chose to start, and he saw no need to feign ignorance in an effort to ask her to elaborate further. No, he often preferred to avoid such games, unless they served a purpose. “Some more than others,” he said plainly. “Edward Nigma, for example, is no longer a criminal. I understand if you find that difficult to believe. I did as well, in the beginning. I am by no means suggesting that you trust him blindly, or at all, but...” Here he hesitated, thoughtful. “He has proved his dedication to reforming more than once. In fact, he’s often gone against his very nature in order to aid me-- us.” He didn’t broadcast his own relationship with Eddie, nor was he willing to admit that, in a strange way, he was coming to view the man as a sort of compatriot. He was, however, perfectly willing to speak the truth, and this was it. All his faith in people, in their ability to change, was proven to be not so foolishly placed when it came to Eddie.
Another thoughtful set of taps on the armrest but Babs’ expression didn’t change any. The contemplative set of her brows didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave Bruce. “So you approve of him and Stephanie?” One of the top rogues of Gotham, reforming, and straight from the Batman himself. Quietly, she still reeled but a few more names rolled off the tongue. “Harley?” A beat. “Selina?”
“I’ve accepted their relationship,” he corrected, though the line between acceptance and approval was thin. “Attempting to force them apart would only cause more harm than good. If I saw reason to, I would, but there is no indication that Stephanie is unhappy or that Nigma is a threat. He’s had multiple opportunities to revert to his old ways and has made the right choice every time.” Which was, quite simply, the long and short of it. Had Eddie returned to his criminal ways, Bruce would know. There wasn’t much to say about Harley but Selina was far more complicated, and there was a flicker of something in his expression before it disappeared, replaced by his usual smooth calm. “Without the Joker’s influence, Harley has managed to stay out of trouble for the most part. Selina... is Selina. Better than she cares to admit yet still a persistent shade of grey.”
The choice of wording wasn’t lost on Babs and she felt duly annoyed and pleased. On one hand he wouldn’t commit to a side, on the other that didn’t mean he didn’t completely approve, and in that she didn’t feel alone. She didn’t rightfully approve but she didn’t exactly feel she needed to, or had any right to. She didn’t know Stephanie and she gathered she’d probably wouldn’t have approved if she did, she was not Oracle. At least Bruce had reservations, and even with them, he still accepted it. “Well it doesn’t sound like it’s harming either of them so…” She shrugged. It was interesting food for thought.
Selina was an altogether different matter. Or rather, the same matter that she was used to when it came to Catwoman. She saw the barest change of expression and Babs couldn’t help the knowing smirk that graced her face. “Some things never change,” she said ruefully with a shake of her head. Another drum of her fingers and she turned and idle glance to his monitors. More business to talk. “There’s a lot of capes and costumes around Gotham. Moreso than usual. I thought I saw Green Arrow and Supergirl’s name tossed around a few. It’s not too...” Tap, tap, tap, “…crowded out here? With everyone rushing around to save the day” It was an innocuous enough question, if it wasn’t coming from a woman currently holding a moniker claimed by two others.
He fully expected Barbara to have her reservations about the relationship. Months ago, Bruce never would have believed that he and Nigma could be capable of reaching the sort of compromise held between them now. Nor would he have believed that he could ever view his and Stephanie’s relationship with anything other than incredulosity and disgust. But, quite simply, things had changed. That didn’t mean, however, that he’d put all his trust in Nigma; a part of him would always be wary. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed, to feel the knife slid in unseen, and he had no intention of letting it happen again. “No,” he agreed. “It isn’t. If that should change, I won’t hesitate to act.” His relationship with Stephanie had improved over time as well, and woe to Eddie should he ever to anything to hurt her.
Her knowing smirk told him that she, like everyone else, was already aware of how things usually were between himself and Selina. They might have been a different Bat and a different Cat, but she was right; some things never changed. Fortunately, the topic shifted and Bruce was spared any further awkwardness. He contemplated the possibility that Gotham was too crowded before responding. “Green Arrow hasn’t been very active. And as for Kara, Supergirl, she’s still young and learning to control her abilities. Aside from myself, there is the rest of the Batfamily; Dick, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra, Jason, and Helena. Black Canary was here as well. Green Lantern and Superman are recent additions,” he explained. “It sounds like a lot, I know. But it certainly doesn’t feel that way.” He paused. “I understand that you were Batgirl before you were Oracle, and Stephanie bears the title now. Do you intend to take it back?”
That sounded like more than a lot, and it hadn’t even included her yet, and she gave him a sidelong glance that was laced with disbelief. But at the same time it would help lighten the load on each individual. That had been part of her reasoning when she pulled on her mask that first night. Gotham was a huge city. One man or a handful of people could make a difference. More would only help.
That said, the question he threw back at her wasn’t unexpected, and yet it still gave her pause. Saying it allowed would make it permanent, and her thoughts on the subject tended to change by the day, if not by the hour. “I’ve thought about it,” she admitted easily, for who wouldn’t bristle at the idea that they were replaced when they weren’t looking? That someone was bearing the mantle she used to, taking the place of her when she carved it out of nothing herself.
But she had always known she couldn’t be Batgirl forever. “I won’t though. As long as she’s as capable as she seems,” and those Oracle files she’d finally opened and reviewed were extensive “then she should keep it while she’s still doing it justice.” It was, of course, a subtle request to let her know the minute Stephanie stepped out of line. Batgirl was her name, but the bat symbol was his. Their cooperation was known. It wouldn’t do either of them favors for faltering under the name.
“That said, I don’t think I can kick my feet up,” she added with a rueful smile. For all her daydreaming of retiring, now that she could do it here, she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to. “It might get even more crowded. Think we can squeeze one more?”
Her disbelief was expected, but with half the Batfamily working through their own issues or leaving the city entirely it didn’t amount to as much assistance as Barbara likely thought it did. The issue Bruce had really wanted to address, however, was the Batgirl mantle and who would carry it. On the one hand, had he come to this Gotham to find that someone else was wearing the cowl and calling themselves Batman he would have fought tooth and nail to take back what was rightfully his. But on the other hand, Bruce Wayne had never actually moved on from Batman because there was nothing to move on to. Barbara eventually became Oracle, giving her name to Cassandra, who in turn had given it to Stephanie. She was simply further along in the line of progression. He could understand both sides, and he nodded when she admitted that she’d thought about it. Of course she had. Yet, along the same line, he was relieved when she said she wouldn’t. Avoiding a battle for the Batgirl name was easier for everyone, and the last thing they needed was fighting within their own ranks.
“She is,” he assured her. And, should that change, Bruce would act, and she would know. “From what I’ve heard, you’re someone she admires a great deal.” Perhaps that was a not-so-subtle suggestion that she and Stephanie should have a talk, but Nigma had mentioned her insecurities and he thought hearing it from Barbara herself might help. As for her not being able to kick up her feet, he smiled, having expected as much. “I think we can.”
She managed a fleeting moment of embarrassment. Meeting Stephanie Brown had been on her high on her priorities but she kept pushing it back. She wanted to see this new Gotham and get the opinions of those she trusted, even if they weren’t quite who they usually were. She wanted to peruse through these files that she, Oracle, had lying around. She never did like going into a fight knowing nothing about the other. Not that Stephanie was the enemy, but she still was an unknown factor. Babs hated not being on steady ground in front of anyone.
“I’ll talk to her,” she promised, and she meant it, before giving me a slight nod. “In the meantime,” she started before she pressed her hands to the arms of chair and pushed herself up, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet with obvious glee. “How about a quick round?” Turning slightly, she glanced to the side, down in the direction of a hallway that would eventually lead to some mats and a lot of room to practice. Now that duty and discussions were over, a little sparring couldn’t hurt. Turning back to him, she tossed him a playful grin. “What do you say, best two out of three?”