Chapter Twenty Three

“...Harls?”

“Hmm-mm?”

“You’re a psychiatrist.”

“Ya know, I never noticed!”

Dick glared over at her from his seat at the little table. She cheekily winked from where she was once again making pancakes in the kitchen, then rolled her eyes at him. “Alright, fineee. Whattya want?”

He looked down at his hands, dry-washing them absently. “How… I’ve told you a lot. About me, I mean. The things that bother me.”

He heard the gas stove click off, and her soft footsteps come over to him, then she sat at the table with him. He glanced over at the pan on the stove. “What about-”

“Later. This is important.”

His chest warmed a little at that. Not a moment of hesitation or doubt, just a simple statement of fact that he was a priority to her right now. It was nice to be the priority to someone, for once.

He looked back at his hands, so he could distract himself. “There’s more though. A lot more. And I… I want to. I want you to know. But when I try, I just…” He grabbed his neck and exaggeratedly pretended to **** himself.

She huffed a little laugh. He’d chalk that down as a win, for sure. “I’m guessin’ ya been to a shrink before?” She waited for him to nod. “So ya probably know ‘bout keepin’ a journal?”

“Yeah, I tried it.”

He thought back to that. It had been after Catalina, when everything was hazy in his memory. He’d gone to exactly two sessions with Dr Moon. She had been great, this small, quiet, asian woman who reminded him of Cass. That had helped, had meant that he went back for the second session. Until the thought snuck in how much he would hate for Cass to hear the things he was saying in those sessions, and he couldn’t go back.

Still, she had suggested journaling, but… “It, uh, it doesn’t really work for me. Feels like I’m writing a letter, or it’s just my thoughts, and those aren’t really journal-friendly? Too messy and quick, apparently.”

He peeked up at Harley. To his surprise, she was just nodding and accepting that. “Yeah, it doesn’t work for everyone. Wheneva’ I tried it, I ended up gettin’ distracted. Hmm…”

She tapped a finger against her plush lips, and Dick suddenly found himself picturing those lips open wide, the finger pointing to the ‘O’ they made, and her eyes half-lidded with lust as he moved closer to-

He coughed, using it as an excuse to hide how his face burned. Apparently she wasn’t the only one that got distracted during therapy efforts, goddamn.

She snapped her fingers, pulling him out of his hiding right as the blush died down, thankfully. “Oh! Whadda’ ‘bout music?”

“Uh… I like a lot of genres? But-”

“Nono, I mean writin’ it, singing and shit. Ever done that?”

Dick tilted his head, unsure where this was going, “Noooo…?” He frowned as he remembered something, “Actually- a little. I, uh… I remember writing something when I was a kid. Like… would’ve been around 17? It was- It was after I found out about Jason. I had all these things I wish I could have said that I didn’t have any way to get out, so-”

His eyes widened. Harley smirked at him. He blinked once, twice. She leaned back in the shitty wooden chair and folded her arms behind her head, “An’ just like that, Doc Harls does it again. That’ll be three hundred bucks, Dickie.”

Dick’s mind was racing with ideas, and his hands and legs were twitching with the urge to go and use all of this energy now that he might have an outlet for it, but first- “Three hundred? What are you running here, therapy or racketeering?”

She lazily smirked. “Four hundred now, since ya so rude.”

He mock-gasped, and narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that so?” She clicked her tongue and nodded sadly. “Well I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of cash on me, Doc. Do you take payment in kisses instead?”

Her eyes lit up slightly, though she tried to hide it beneath a veneer of nonchalance, pretending to examine her cuticles. “I suppose I could be convinced…”

If there was lipstick caught on his jawline and around his dopey smile when he sat on the sofa a half-hour later, well, there was nobody to complain about it. He opened a new notepad, with the lingering scent of fresh pancakes and Harley’s perfume in the air, and that was the moment. To the sound of a pen scratching against cheap paper, a new musical sensation was born.

—

There was a knock at the door, later that day. Dick looked up from the notepad to stare at the door with a slight frown, irrationally irritated that it had interrupted him so soon. He grabbed his phone. It had only been- Oh, nope, it’d been three hours. Nevermind.

He sighed a little and was just about to move when Harley pushed into the room, drying her wet hair in one of his towels. The sight made him smile, enjoying the homey feeling the scene had.

She wildly ragged at the damp blonde locks, then tossed the towel over the other arm of the couch and said, “I’ll get it, ya stay right there, ya look too comfy to move.”

He grinned, “I mean, you’re right, but, it’d be comfier with you here too.”

She rolled her eyes, and bounced over to the door.

As she did, Dick idly skimmed over any messages he’d had. Only one was highlighted. Dick’s eyes shot open, and he whisper-yelled, “Harls, wait-”

Too late. Harley opened the door with a bubbly, “Hiya! Wha-”

And then she went flying into the room, catching herself with a handstand and flipping back upright to fight.

The door clicked shut, and Steph snarled, “What the fuck have you done with Dick, you psycho bi-”

She clocked Dick still half-burrowed in the corner of the couch and paused, pure confusion twisting her features.

Dick sheepishly gave a tiny wave. “Hi Steph. I, uh, I missed your text…”

Steph looked between him and Harley, who was relaxing a little but keeping her distance. Then, very slowly, she said, “Dick, do you maybe wanna explain?”

“Not really.” The answer left him, and he knew he probably looked as shocked as Steph did. “I mean, uh…” He sighed, “I don’t suppose you could just leave and forget about this?”

She didn’t bother answering, the look she gave him was enough.

“Yeah, I didn’t really think so. Okay, come sit down.” He gestured in the general direction of the other empty seats, then turned to the other blonde, “Harls, would you mind making some drinks? Should be a jar of cocoa labelled ‘Steph’ in there.”

“Sure thing. Lemme just grab my headphones, give ya both some privacy.” She dashed off before he could tell her it wasn’t necessary, and he turned back to Steph who hadn’t moved, and was watching where Harley had gone with Bat intent.

Tiredly, he said, “Sit down already Steph. You know I’d be dealing with it if I thought you were in danger. I don’t want to waste your time anymore.”

—

Steph snapped her eyes to Dick, taking him in properly for the first time since arriving.

He looked worse than she had expected. From what Barb had said, Steph thought he’d only be having four sugars in his coffee instead of six, or only doing double flips instead of triple ones. Instead, he looked genuinely ill.

The baggy comfy clothes couldn’t hide the way that the little body fat Dick carried had vanished, his frame altogether too light for what it should be. Or the way that the muscle he had was built wrong for him, too much upper body. He looked more like Jason, with this, she realised, and Jason’s style was all about slow but powerful hits.

His eyes seemed somewhat sunken, there were dark shadows under them, and his skin lacked the golden glow it usually had, an almost-grey tint replacing it. He even sounded bone-tired when he said that absolute crap about her wasting her time, and “What the fuck happened to you, Dick?”

She walked over and sat down, picking the seat that would let her watch the kitchen as Harley came back in with headphones on and started bouncing around in there, whilst Dick blinked and furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude, you look worse than-” Her eyes shot over to where Harley had gone and she changed what she was saying “than Tim after that reallllllly long night when he got kidney punched.”

Steph barely repressed the flinch when he reacted. That was also new. Since when did Dick have a more discomforting scowl than Bruce? And how did he cover it up so damn quick with a sarcastic smile? “Gee, thanks Steph. You really know how to cheer a guy up.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, about- It’s not a big deal, alright?” He shot her a sheepish, embarrassed smile, “She needed a place to crash, since Joker tried to get her brought back to him, and I figured why not? She doesn’t know who we are, but I knew Bruce wouldn’t approve, so I didn’t say anything. It’s only for a couple days, so you don’t worry about it. Just… don’t tell B?”

He smirked the infamous smirk from when he would prank someone, back when, and gave her a wink as if bringing her in on it. And it all made sense with what she knew. It was exactly the kind of thing Dick would do, and this is how she would have guessed he’d share it.

Except…”Dick, Joker’s in Arkham’s med wing with a tube down his throat ‘cause Croc threw him into a wall when he wouldn’t stop laughing.”

His smile froze, and “Holy shit- Is that lipstick?!” Steph practically screeched.

Dick slapped a hand over his mouth and winced. Harley paused where she stood by the end of the couch with a pair of mugs full of hot chocolate and a nervous smile. Steph’s eyes shot to that smile, and- The colour matched.

Steph’s jaw dropped.

Training kicked in. She might not be anywhere near the other Bats when it came to training, but she had been Robin and Batgirl, and she was motherfucking Spoiler. More than that, this was literally among the first things any of them learned- If someone you know is acting wildly out of character? It’s mind control. And if it’s another Bat? You don’t press the panic button, you slam it.

Her hand twitched.

That was all she got.

Her hand twitched, planning to move to the button in her jacket, and suddenly Dick exploded towards her faster than she thought he was even capable of. It was like he was spring-loaded in the couch and she’d cut the string. His body barreled into her, knocking them both to the ground. His arms shifted to wrap around her and restrain her torso. He… was he hugging her or fighting her?

Steph asked slowly, “...Aren’t ya gonna knock me out and tie me up or summin’?”

His head popped up and pinned her with a baffled look, “What? No! Why would I do that?”

“Uh, because you’re being mind controlled by weird modern tradwife Harley over there?”

Dick frowned unhappily, “Don’t call her that. And I’m not being controlled, Steph, don’t be ridiculous.”

This time, it was her turn to pin him with an incredulous look, “Dick. Nobody’s seen you for ages, you-” She looks at Harley and whispers so only Dick can hear, “you stopped wearing your comm randomly-” She returns her voice to normal, “and when I show up, Harley Quinn is hanging around your house and you’ve got her lipstick all over your face. C’mon dude, you’re not this dumb.”

Dick screws his eyes shut and drops his head with a thud into Steph’s stomach, hissing a frustrated sigh. Then, he looks at her unreadably. “...Did Babs send you?”

“Huh?” She quirked a confused eyebrow. “Nah, she actually said not to come, but-”

“Then why’d you bother?” Dick wouldn’t meet her eye.

Steph couldn’t help how she flinched back from how genuinely he asked that. As if he truly didn’t know, didn’t understand why she was here if it wasn’t because of Barbara. Without thinking, she said, “The heck you mean? I’m here because I’m worried and I, y’know, care about your stupid ass for some reason. Why would you ask that?!”

He still wasn’t looking at her, and panic flooded her. She’d seen this a hundred times, growing up where she did.

The people that wandered aimlessly, something crucial missing from them, lost to them. The ones that had hollow eyes which never looked back, as if they didn’t believe you meant it when you said you’d help them, that you’d feed them and find them a future. The ones that all too often left in a zipped black bag and an unmarked black van that tried and failed to not look like an ambulance, the last ride to the morgue.

It fucking terrified her. There weren’t many things that terrified her this much, and she’d seen some shit. So, Steph did the only thing that made sense in the moment. She leaned forwards, and licked Dick’s forehead.

He jumped back, lifting her slightly before his arms released her to drop back to the ground with a heavy thump, wiping his forehead with his long sleeve and loudly complaining, “Ewwww! Ew! What the hell? Whyyyy?!”

He glared at her, and she replied as she hopped to her feet, “Hey, you let go!”

“Well yeah! You licked me! I-”

She grabbed him in a hug, squeezing as tightly as she could, as if- “Uh…Why are you-” She squeezed him tighter, her face buried against his chest. “Damn that’s- you’re hugging me like I’m gonna disappear, Steph, I need to breathe.”

Her voice was muffled when she spoke, and it hid the emotional waver that came with it, “You might.”

He tensed minutely, his hands stilled on her shoulder blades, and before she could stop it, a small sob whined in her throat at the unspoken confirmation. His voice murmured softly, trying to reassure her, “Hey, no, it’s okay, shhh… I’m here, Steph, I’m still here-”

She pulled back, angrily scrubbing at her eyes with one hand. Idly, she noticed Harley had left and that bedroom door was shut again, giving them privacy. She glared up at Dick, “That! You said still here, Dick! I can fucking see it, stop hiding! I saw it all the fuckin’ time in the Narrows, so don’t lie!” The accent was thicker in her words now she was upset, but she didn’t care.

His eyes were unbearably sad as he offered a small smile, and said, “Steph… You don’t have to worry- no, listen.” He shushed her with a finger to her lips when she opened her mouth, and she chomped at the air aggressively, making him pull it back. “I…” He sighed softly, “I wasn’t doing so hot, a couple months back, but I’m fine now.”

His hand came and ruffled her hair slightly, as if he wasn’t only her senior by a year or two. “‘Kay? I’m fine, and it’s not your job to-”

She felt like screaming as she snapped at him, hissing to keep her voice down “It is my job, you bleedin’ nit! Until the day I die, it’ll be my fuckin’ job, ‘cause I’m your Batgirl and you’re my Batman!”

Dick reeled like she’d punched him, and his face changed for a moment. It was like she’d fractured the mask he was wearing, and just for a second, saw past it. And she didn’t like it at all. A split-second shift from the mask, to raw emotional pain, to pride, to resignation, and then the mask reformed.

“Not anymore. Go back to your family, Steph. Don’t worry about me… and don’t mention Harley to anyone, please. She’s really trying to do things right, and B will ruin that.” He was smiling softly and reassuringly, and his tone was friendly and affectionate, with only a hint of pleading at the end, and he had guided her out the door and shut it before she really registered it all.

That was fine though. Well, actually, no, it was fucking bullshit and she wanted to go back in there and punch him in the dick. But! She had seen the mask- that smile- drop now. She knew the difference now.

He wanted to claim they weren’t each other’s Batman and Batgirl? Fine. She’d have to remind him how persistently loyal Batgirl was, and how little she listened to Batman’s stupid orders.

It wasn’t until she was well on her way home that she remembered.

‘Go back to your family, Steph.’ He had said. As if it wasn’t their family, together. As if it didn’t disintegrate without him, when he had been gone.

Suddenly, Steph regretted how she’d never really told him. She’d implied it, and thought it enough. But she never outright said the words. That he wasn’t just her Batman, wasn’t just a really close friend and colleague. That, as far as she was concerned, even if she and Bruce had never made it official because of her mother…

‘Go back to your family, Steph.’ As if he could just disappear and she wouldn’t care. As if she didn’t see him as the older brother that guided her when everything went to shit. As if she didn’t love him.

So why had she never told him?