Chapter Seven

Barbara shut her laptop with a definitive click, and muttered to herself, “That tears it.”

Her muttering drew the eyes of Steph and Tim who were chilling with her in one of the huge sitting rooms of Wayne Manor. Barbara had needed to access the physical Batcomputer itself, and had arranged to stay over as a ‘sleepover’ rather than try to arrange a short stay. In the end, she had been right to do so. The enormous beast that made up the ‘tower’ of the Batcomputer was in dire need of an upgrade, and she’d had to find and replace one of the hard drive connectors before she could get the data she needed, which ended up taking over an hour.

The other two vigilantes had naturally drifted in shortly after she settled herself on one of the comfier sofas in the room, and she’d given them a quick nod and wave whilst keeping her focus on the work in front of her.

Now, she focused directly onto the pair to say, “I need to ask a favour of the both of you. You likely won’t like, or enjoy, what I’m going to ask. You’re fully free to say no-”

“Urrrrrghhhhhh” Stephanie groaned out slowly and dramatically, before throwing a smile at the redhead “Babs, you could literally ask these idiots to learn a ballet rehearsal and they'd do it. And yes, I'm included in that.”

Tim chimed in, “She has a point. The team would likely grind to a halt without you.”

“AND” The blonde added, throwing a look at Tim, “We actually fucking love you, not that any of the emotionally constipated jerks would say that to a woman they're not dating. So whaddya want?”

“It's about Dick” Barbara’s chest stung from how their expressions instantly clouded and dropped, the walls raising up higher and stronger, “I need you to get the Bats here tomorrow. Not Bruce.”

“And why” Tim's tone cut sharply, yet calmly, “do you need that?”

She took a deep breath, “Because I am concerned about him, and unlike you, I can't go on a quick bike ride to check up on him, can I?”

Steph’s guard seemed to break at that, a smirk and teasing tone coming on as she said, “Damnnn. Pulling the wheelchair card? Well, can't really block that one, can we?”

Barbara had the good grace to blush a little. She tried not to use the paralysis as a guilt trip most of the time, hating the pity she got and the problems it caused, but…it was for Dick. “No, I suppose you can't, can you? So, you'll both do it?”

The two exchanged looks for a moment, then-

“I can talk to Jason and Damian.”

“I've got Cass, and I can try talking to Harper and Helena and that lot. Don't expect them to show though.”

“Hm. True. I'll tell Alfred so he knows to make sure it's private for us. We inviting any out-of-towners?”

They turned to look at Barbara, who said with a slight smile, “No, just the Bats for now. And don't worry too much about the quiet ones. I mostly need you two, Jason, Damian, and Cass.”

They nodded and quickly got up to take their leave, needing to arrange this meeting Barbara had called. For her part? She just lay on that sofa and hoped she was reading too deeply. After all, there's no way Dick had really been working with Harley Quinn, is there? And he would never be letting himself get hurt…right?

—

“Wow. This place is…quaint.” Nightwing’s voice called out from the window Harley had climbed through not even ten minutes ago. It had taken a little effort to follow her- scratch that, a lot of effort- but Dick had finally let his curiosity win out.

He was, of course, being polite. The place was a shitbox of truly epic proportions. He hadn't seen an apartment so resoundingly, epically shit since he was last visiting the Gotham Narrows.

Upon reflection, however, he probably should have called the woman's name first, or come in sooner, or something of that nature. That reflection happened in the short moment he had before reacting to the baseball bat that was slamming through the air towards his head.

He caught the weapon on his shielded gauntlet, redirecting and guiding the swing away from himself smoothly as he stepped around her, “Damn Harls, that was a perfect form swinnngggggg…”

He trailed off as his mind managed to process what was in front of him. Specifically, the blonde holding a baseball bat, staring at him with eyes that were slightly panicked, slightly crazy, and wearing nothing but a bra and some boyshorts. Before he could help himself, his anger-defusing quip reflex kicked in from the many relationships with strong-willed women in the past, “Red suits you, wow.”

Arguably, that was worse, as his own face went scarlet beneath his domino, “I, uh, I did not mean to say that.” The pair looked at one another another long moment, before simultaneously breaking into bouts of giggling.

After some gasping breaths to try and regain control, Harley managed to get out, “‘Red suits ya’? Really? That was all you had?!”, Which naturally sent them both into laughter again.

Eventually, Nightwing got control of himself and turned around, “I’ll, hehe, I’ll let you go get dressed?”

“Sure thing!” He heard the thuds as she half-skipped her way to what was assumedly the bedroom, and busied himself with burying the last of the giggles. A few seconds later, her voice called out again, “Wait, do I gotta put my gear back on?”

“No!” He was quick to shut that down, “No, I just…I wanted to check on your place, and I had a question for you.”

“Kay!” She replied, and he heard the sound of some rustling, then she bounded back into the room, “Much comfier! Turn around already, bird brain, I ain’t gonna bite ya head off for a peek.”

He turned, and was greeted with a whole different kind of unusual sight. Harley in comfy pajamas was, frankly speaking, adorable. And Dick was impressed, not for the first time, by how she managed to ooze sexuality in just about anything she wore.

“Ya gonna sit down, or just stare?” Harley asked cheekily.

Nightwing sat, and then slowly said,”Harley… what are you going to do if one of your old villain friends shows up?”

That definitely cut down her cheerful mood, and Nightwing suddenly felt awful for having done it. He needed to quickly work out how to take it back, backtrack and fix this, make things good so she didn’t have to focus on the difficult emotions-

“...I guess I’ll do what needs doin’.” His eyes shot up to her face at the response, stunned into silence as she continued, “I…I don’t wanna hurt ‘em, so I’ll give ‘em the chance, but…not everybody wants savin’, ya know?”

There was a long silence for a minute, then the smile slowly reformed on her face, “Besides, some of the assholes deserve a good kickin’, amirite?” She looked up to his face as she said that, and stopped again.

Then, she tilted her head to one side like a curious puppy, some intense curiosity in her eyes and a grin on her lips, “Ya ain’t used to people answering all the big scary emotional questions, are ya?”

Dick mutely shook his head for a moment. He breathed out a whoosh of held air, “No, I am not.”

“Don’t hardly surprise me much!” She grinned at his look of confusion, “Bird-brain, ya little Batfam dress up in kevlar and go punching assholes in the nighttime. Don’t think anyone expects any of ya to have emotional stability or positive communication.”

He blinked. “Wha- Where’d all the psychologist talk come from?”

“I’m literally a psychiatrist” She deadpanned.

“...Oh yeah.”

She giggled manically, and made a shooing motion with her hands, “Ya need sleep. Go on, scram.”

Harley Quinn really was a strangely intricate personality, Nightwing reflected as he climbed from her window waving.

Dick managed to sleep a whole four hours that night without any nightmares. It was bizarre, yet not unwelcome.