multiversallogs | the lebanon won't speak my name

Entry tags:

the lebanon won't speak my name

Who: Barbara Gordon and Jason Todd
What: saying hello
Where: Barbara's residence in Brock Marsh
When: late morning
Notes: "hey I'm alive want to join my secret club"
Warnings: probable FEELINGS

Although he'd told Rex he'd have Barbara contact him, Jason had not even spoken with Barbara; he had no idea if Barbara would even want to talk to him, let alone have anything to do with any of his vague plans. He'd been acting on instinct, drawing on the one resource he'd been so reluctant to draw on until now. He didn't care to count the years that separated them. In many ways, he'd come to assume that her silence was more meaningful than his. He had the files Talia had given him, and Barbara had herself as Oracle. They could have both made contact at any time. But Barbara didn't know he knew. If she never contacted him, it must be deliberate.

Then again, one of the reasons he'd made his move in Gotham at the exact time he did was because of two people exiting the city: Cassandra Cain, and Barbara. Their collective absence was the only thing that had allowed him to run wild like he had — that and Bruce's unwillingness to believe the truth. What (if anything) she read into that, Jason couldn't know.

It is not right, it is not fair, for him to swing by after a long night out, to sit on her doorstep and drink coffee and think about how he kind of needs to shave. But she must know that he's like this already, even if she doesn't know he's in the city. There aren't cameras everywhere in Baedal like there were in Pseudo New York; there, she'd sent Cassandra to him so he could serve as a warning, as an example. An educational tool for the family member Barbara wanted to keep, he'd decided, and did not resent that. It had given him a chance to make his case to Cass, though in the end, it served Barbara's purposes.

He had been relatively incautious about tracking Stephanie, but he's been much more wary of surveying Barbara. There's only been a few glimpses here and there, always at a distance. He thinks he probably should have stopped at the apartment and shaved. It's a ridiculous thought. He's here because he's pretty sure she'll have finished this morning's tutoring session and may head home from there, so fuck shaving, at least he brought her some coffee. Hopefully she'll be back before it gets cold. Hopefully she'll actually talk to him. Hopefully she may even let him inside. Hope is stupid, like him; neither of them will stay down, and he can't tell whether this decision to approach her is stupidity, instinct, hope, or both.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Barbara hasn't been here long. She's renting the place, one of the smaller houses in Brock Marsh and one of the very few accessible buildings in Baedal. It's nice, to have her own place, but it doesn't feel like going home. She'll worry if it ever does.

At home, she'd have known the second someone approached the building, even blocks away. She'd have warned them off or opened the door remotely. She misses that power, that security; it feels like a part of her identity is missing.

As it is, her hand stills as she turns the corner and sees a figure at her doorstep, eyes narrowing. Her Eskrima sticks lay secured beneath her leg straps, and her fingers ache to grab them. She doesn't, not yet; she just approaches, cautious and ready.

Every bit of her trained, careful response is utterly lost when she's close enough to see his face. Her breath dies in her throat and her hands skid down the wheels, wide eyes blinking rapidly as she takes in the impossible sight before her.

"Jason?"

He remains seated, looking up to her for a moment with focused recognition. This is his first full on look at her since he was sixteen. The first time he's heard his name like that in years. Then he knows there's no secret, magical image of Barbara as Batgirl he's been holding onto and hoarding and protecting — that he hasn't stayed away because he wants to remember her as she was. He's stayed away because he wants her to remember him as he was. Young and absurd and stupid. Well, he's still at least two out of three.

"I thought maybe we should talk," Jason says finally, and offers her the other cup of coffee without looking away.

"Talk," Barbara repeats, voice as numb as the hand that accepts the coffee. In the back of her mind, that same voice is scolding her. This is ridiculous; this could be an enemy, using Jason's face to catch her off guard, to make her vulnerable.

But that doesn't make sense. He's older. For god's sake, he needs a shave.

Barbara closes her eyes. She knows she can't regain her composure if she's looking into his.

It doesn't help, because now all she's seeing is the autopsy report. His face, pale and still, before he's put into the ground. His grave, every year since. That fucking case -

The lid pops off her coffee cup and her eyes fly open again. She didn't even feel her fingers curl. Yeah, she's doing a great job here.

The way he's studying her, that wasn't quite the reaction he was expecting. At first he was willing to chalk it up to not having talked to her in years. Now, though, he's remembering that Stephanie is alive and older, that Tim is twenty. Maybe even somewhere in the back of his mind he's thinking about the man who looks a little like Bruce. But he's very good at not thinking about Bruce now, so it doesn't register above the surface.

"First, though. What was happening back home before you came here?"

She takes a breath as she tightens the lid on again, focusing on her fingers.

"Gotham was recovering from a gang war." That covers it, more or less. She doesn't need to tell him about -

Stephanie.

But no, that doesn't make sense either.

"I was planning on leaving, before I ended up here." The guilt is plain in the words. She doesn't know if she'll make that choice again when she's back.

Maybe he isn't her Jason, exactly. Maybe Bruce got there in time, or he never went to Ethiopia at all.

Something in his face changes, the smallest grimace, a flicker of shadow, maybe. He should've been more careful about approaching her. He should've figured out a way to find out when Barbara was coming from.

"Sorry. That was almost three years ago for me. I didn't think showing up would shock you." The brief, sardonic smile is a little forced. "I didn't think. Just like old times."

Damn. Jason had been hoping to ask her about Stephanie, too. But perhaps Stephanie has told Barbara. He'll keep it in mind.

"Ask me something I'd know, because I'm kind of freezing." His mouth twists a little, self-mocking. "We can go somewhere else or talk over the CiD if you don't want me in your house. And there are reasons you wouldn't. I'll say that much for now."

There's only a hint of that peculiar challenge he used to wear as a chip in his shoulder as a teenager. Telling her that is about honesty. She doesn't know what he's done and the moment where she looks at him and he's dead in her eyes could be right ahead. The defiance is only there to let her know what no matter what conclusion she comes to, he's not apologizing.

Her lips quirk, just slightly, despite everything. It's the sort of smile the Jason always coaxed out of her; fond and amused and exasperated.

"Must be one hell of a reason," she says quietly. Because if he's Jason, really Jason, no matter what world he's from - he's welcome. He'll always be welcome.

Doesn't matter how long it's been. He's still her Little Bird.

"I had a nickname for you. What was it?"

((If that's cool! I just really liked that line.))

"Come on. You think someone couldn't guess 'little bird'?" But despite his gentle mockery, Jason stands up and aside. Of all the boys, it seems like he's the one who's somehow inherited Bruce's build — almost as tall, certainly wide-shouldered, and with something of the same shuttered grace. He doesn't move like Dick (who does?) but as someone who seems slightly too large to be at as much ease as he is. Almost a stranger from that sixteen year old sidekick, yet she'd recognized him right away. Even if this ends badly, he'll remember that. She knew him.

"Not from me," she says softly. She was a different person when she called him that. It's not that she's never silly or sentimental anymore. But it's a part of her even she forgets, sometimes, and no enemy of hers would conceive of it now.

And then he moves, and - he's different, but in a way that makes so much sense. He's what she always imagine Jason would be, if he was allowed to grow up.

"Jason..." It's a whisper, this time. There are so many things she wants to do, to say, but -

"We should go inside. ...Hold this, will you?"

He nods, taking the cup. It's tempting to do more than that, but he holds off, still wary of that possible moment. Somehow, though, he isn't tense, isn't waiting for it. Stupid hope and/or instinct at work again, though this time, he doesn't bother trying to work it out. Simultaneously, awkwardness is creeping in. It'll be better once he gets on track, but now there are dumb things hovering in the periphery of his thoughts, things like Dick spontaneously coined 'little wing' within minutes of meeting me and I didn't remember that right up until you asked me.

Again like Bruce, however, Jason keeps that in and stays guarded. Of course, his distance is hardly comparable to what Bruce can project, which is like an entire fucking tundra of silence. He follows her in wordlessly like any quiet person, shuts the door behind them, and glances out the window on pure reflex. Stephanie is probably at work. Would Tim drop by unannounced? Maybe if he weren't the twenty year old version.

The front room is rather subdued, all in shades of white and grey. Between the worn sofa and armchair, the long black coffee table and the television, there isn't much space to spare.

There's enough for Barbara to manoeuvre, though, and she leads Jason to the couch before turning to face him.

"Welcome to Casa de Gordon." It hits her with a sudden pang in her chest; Jason will never see the inside of her real home. Even if the clock tower is rebuilt, it couldn't possibly be the same.

He cracks a reluctant smile for her once he's seated, less so for the welcome than the same thought that's occurred to him.

"I thought living in the clock tower was pretty cool. Couldn't risk seeing you at the time, though. Well, I didn't even think about it." Jason hesitates. It's surprisingly difficult to decide what to say. He's never explained to a single goddamn person ever how he came back and what he did, partly because he doesn't know much about it, and his memory of that time of his life is patchy anyway. It's also not as important, except that Barbara isn't used to the fact he's alive.

"... I came to you today to see you and ask you for help. But you should understand that how things stand around the time I'm from, I'm not family anymore. Killed a lot of people who deserved it and you know how dad feels about that. I'm not on good terms with Dick or Tim either. Whatever fights we've had in the past, though, I'm not interested in anymore. I'm interested in doing something here and now and I could use your help, but if you can't or won't give it, that's fine, I'm not gonna attack you or any of the others."

She wants to ask him about it. She wants to know what happened - but this isn't that moment. She's made an art of choosing the right questions, when to ask and when to wait.

So she just gazes at him, turning the words over in her head.

Then she holds out a hand for her coffee.

"I'm not Bruce, Jason. People don't stop being family because I disagree with them. And for the record, I don't know that I do." It depends, really, on just who he's killed and why.

There's so much packed into the way he looks at her, less than a second's worth of wordless, ruthlessly crushed stupid hope before he hands the drink back. Is that what she's always thought? Maybe he could have gone to her long ago. Maybe her silence hadn't meant what he'd thought. That him going to see her would have meant more than her finding him. It's nothing he can think about deeply right now.

"I kept trying with Dick for a while, but the last time we talked a few months ago, he pissed me off, so fuck it. And Tim's a fucking headcase, so no. Cass broke my arm. It was nice of her to stop there. Never spoken to Stephanie." He tends to forget about Damian, having never met him, and never mind about Batman 2.0 or Carrie — no use in referencing people Barbara doesn't know. The other person he genuinely forgot to address was Bruce, which would please him if he were capable of noticing how much he doesn't (or refuses to) care anymore.

"At home it was murderers and rapists, sometimes drug dealers. Here, non-lethal methods aren't going to get us anywhere against the Militia, some of whom are murderers and rapists anyway. You saw those transmissions? Me and a few others went after one of those guys. But we can't just wait around for whoever's doing that to send us the info, and cherry pick Militia members off when they do. They'll come down even harder."

She sips the drink, covering the wistfully sad expression on her face. They're his brothers - Dick hated himself for failing Jason, and Tim...he looked up to the second Robin as much as he ever did to the first.

But they're both so determined to follow Bruce's code, even when it does more harm than good. Cass...she has her own reasons.

"Stephanie and I had come to that conclusion, yes." Her lips quirk, just slightly. "You should have spoken to her. You have a few things in common."

"I will. But however good she is, you're more important. I've been talking to people here and there, checking them out for suitability and likelihood. But I've always worked on my own. If you and her could get in on this, that'd be good."

Then his mouth quirks sourly, because this has been going way better than he expected, and now he has to say this next thing. "No Tim, though. We don't get along and I don't trust him to be okay with this. I attacked him twice years ago, and apparently at some point in the future I stab him in the chest. Whatever, I'm not going to do any of that, but I'd prefer that he not know I'm here. I don't have time to deal with family divorce fallout."

Her own smile fades, but she crushes the urge to argue for emotion's sake. "I won't tell him. But..." She lets it trails of, shaking her head. "Might come back to bite us in the ass."

She's certain Tim will be involved in this, too. If he finds out in the midst of a bad situation, it could just get worse.

"I can run interference if I have to, but there are never guarantees."

As much as he dislikes Tim, the look in his eyes softens a little, because just like it wasn't fair to waltz up to her doorstep and go hey, here I am, how's it going, it's not fair to come into her life and demand she choose between fighting the militia and Tim.

"No, you're right. He'll find out sooner or later." And while it's tempting to ask her to let Tim know, that's also so incredibly irresponsible. "I'll tell him I'm here and deal with it like a fucking adult."

That accomplished, he stares at Barbara for another second wordlessly, then finally says, "Thank you."

She's smiling again, soft and warm as she gazes at him. She still can't quite believe what she's looking at. It's even stranger than Steph, because she's had a long time to - not accept Jason's death, but learn to live with it.

"Of course. You're - you're Jason." And that's that, really. "I can be with you, when you tell him. Practice my mediating skills."

She knows it's probably a foolish hope that they reconcile, even with everything Jason isn't saying. But she's staring at a miracle, so she's all right with that.

The softer look of a moment ago recedes with this reaction, replaced by a mulish and almost grim amusement. There is, he dimly realizes, an instinct in him to fuck this up, to tell her everything he's done, because she won't be able to look at him like this after that. There's also, however, a more pragmatic cold-blooded logic at work: he needs her help. The desire to alienate her is irrational, even if it's honest, but more importantly, it will get in the way of his plans. But a little honesty about what he's done and what he's capable of will go a long way, since Stephanie and especially Tim will be able to tell her the truth. She has to hear it from him first.

"No, I'll contact him over the CiD. But I'll filter it to you too." Carefully, he leans forward a fraction more, resting his forearms against his knees with his hands loosely clasped. "He has every reason to hate me, Barbara. The first time we met for real, I was going to kill him." Jason shrugs, casually callous. "I wasn't really all together back then. He impressed me, though. So I just broke him a bit and left." He's actually forgotten the bit where he used Tim's blood to vandalize Titan's Tower; leaving it out isn't intentional. "I was still feeling kinda raw."

He says it with such detachment, it's easy to see he thinks he's changed. Yet that same dismissiveness is, in its own way, not indicative he's completely right. He doesn't intend to attack Tim again, but he could do it without feeling very guilty, if he thought it necessary.

"I've done a lot of things, killed a lot of people. You'll hear it all from Tim, I'm sure." His gaze is steady. "But I'm not running wild anymore, I promise. That's not gonna work here."

Barbara gazes at him steadily for a moment. The easy warmth has faded, but there's no cold judgement there, either.

It takes her a moment to ask, and her voice is low and quiet when she does. "Did it still happen? Ethiopia?"

"Yeah." The pause is deliberate, a moment to take his thoughts all the way back there. It's only been a few years, but it was also an entire lifetime ago. And it's worth going over, in case Barbara is from a slightly different universe. "Got benched. Went to look for my biological mom. Got in trouble."

There's that grim amusement again, like any of this is funny. But he does think it is. The sheer misguidedness, the youthful stupidity — he doesn't blame Sheila. Some dumb kid showing up out of nowhere. "I don't know what happened to bring me back, or why. My memory of that time isn't real great. Patchy memories, lost time."

And he's just not going to mention Talia. It's complicated and after everything she did for him, even though he's pretty sure she wouldn't care, he can do this for her. He'll keep her out of it, though Barbara isn't stupid and there are only so many ways for someone to get better so drastically.

Barbara just stares at him, for a moment, before she nods. "Yeah, that's - that's what happened in mine, but I - I don't know if you - " But he could have. Dear lord, he could have.

He could be her Jason, just a few years ahead. Like the others.

But that wasn't the point of the question. She takes a breath, steadies her emotions.

"Wouldn't expect you to be all together, then." A faint, wan smile. "I sure as hell wasn't."

His answering smile is that same brand of bleak amusement. "I'm probably already in Gotham. I was waiting for the right time, for you and Cassandra to leave, because either of you, and especially both of you, would've ruined my plans."

The amusement-bitterness ratio intensifies just slightly in favor of the latter. "I knew he would drive both of you away sooner or later."

And just like that he sits back, finishing his coffee.

Barbara shakes her head before sipping her own. "Wasn't his fault, really. Nothing drives me away from my city if I don't want to go. I just...couldn't, anymore."

Not after thinking it happened again. She was supposed to be powerful enough to stop it, now.

"What was your plan, exactly?"

"Same difference. You're too sensible to work with him for long. The rest of us don't have a lick of sense and that's how we stay. When even Dick leaves you know it's bad."

There is some scorn in that last statement, but ultimately, Dick's loyalty is what it is, and he's not that mad about it anymore.

"I took control of the drug trade. They were already scattered and I killed a bunch of them, killed anybody dealing to kids especially. Then I frustrated the hell out of Black Mask, fucked with Bruce's head, and beat the shit out of the Joker with a crowbar. I never got around to killing Black Mask — he was unexpectedly pretty quick on his feet — but I hear Catwoman took care of that anyway. I think she kind of had dibs there. Also, I got to kill a Nazi. Seriously, how many people my age can say that? Bruce flipped his shit, of course, but it was Captain Nazi, I did the world a service. If killing Nazis is wrong I don't want to be right."

Barbara bows her head, but it's really not enough to obscure the curve of her lips.

"Not too many people would convict you, I'm pretty sure." Krieger definitely lived up to the name. Barbara's certainly not shedding any tears.

When she looks up, her expression is thoughtful. "So Sionis is dead. That's - a weight off my shoulders, frankly. And..." Her lips twist. "I suppose Bruce saved the Joker again."

He laughs shortly, but with genuine humor, albeit certainly very black.

"Yes. Yes, he did."

And he could elaborate, or he could just lift his chin a little, and there, just barely visible, is the scar. You could say it's karma, though he's not sure (and doesn't care) if he left a scar there on Tim.

"So how is Stephanie alive?"

His persistent interest in this topic is well-shielded from reaching his voice or face, but Barbara probably understands why he's asking regardless.

She almost drops her coffee. To think of Bruce doing that - to his son - for the fucking Joker -

It makes her insides twist and tremble and dear lord when she sees that man again she might have to punch him. Doesn't matter if he hasn't actually done it yet.

And if she has anything to say about it he won't.

Jason's questions jerks her back into reality, and she considers it for a moment. "Leslie faked her death, to get her out of - well, everything. She spent a year recovering in Africa."

She shakes her head, voice softening. "It must have been a close call, though." It still shouldn't have happened.

Something in him goes shuttered again, and it's because he's actually a little disappointed, which surprises him. It's not like he had anything invested in the supposition that Stephanie had died and come back to life. Yet still, there is a tinge of strange regret, something which he dismisses entirely after a moment of it.

"I'll talk to her." He says, neutral enough that someone else might take it in a more ominous way than he intends. "You know Helena Bertinelli is here?"

It's habit to suppress shock, and that's the only reason her eyebrows don't hit the ceiling. Her eyes widen, her lips part, but only slightly.

"Huntress is - how long?"

"A while — since before you came actually — but she doesn't know you." He knows he could be less blunt, but he doesn't see the point. Barbara isn't a delicate flower.

"At all. Never even heard of Oracle, doesn't know anything else about you. We've been working together some and she'll be in on this too, most likely. So there's you, me, her, Stephanie, maybe a vigilante friend of Stephanie's, this scientist inventor guy I'd like you to talk to about some kind of alternate communication system... there'll be more, though. This is gonna be a thing."

The disappointment is like a spear in her chest, leaving her to sink - but it barely shows. A curt nod is all she gives.

"We'll have to get to know each other, then." She considers him a moment, and then, "If she's anything like my Huntress, though - she's not naturally a team player. How big are we talking? How connected are we going to be?"

He might know that they've worked together, but he doesn't know how much Barbara cares for Helena, and the humorless smile he gives her is inadvertently unsympathetic.

"Almost none of us are, and until we do learn to work together, if that ever happens, we're gonna have to stay as mostly independent, coordinated pairs. Another area I figured we could use you. If we get enough people, if we can all get along, then we can think about bigger things. There were four of us going after one Militia guy and we nearly blew it because we weren't expecting each other, or the quick response from the rest of the Militia. Also, Stephanie's friend didn't want to kill the rapist. That's not gonna happen again."

She wouldn't expect him to, really, and sympathy may only salt the wound. Simply getting on to business is generally how she deals with things.

"Makes sense as a starting point. We'll need to know what other groups are doing, too." She considers for a moment, and then, "We'll also have to find out if she's willing to work with others willing to kill at all. If so, she can go on non-lethal missions. It's a question we'll need to ask of everyone."

She's silent for a moment, almost uncertain. "I don't suppose you have a way of guaranteeing honesty?" Sometimes she really misses working with J'onn and Diana.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the lebanon won't speak my name

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject