Chapter Text
The bell over the door jungled as Barbara entered the coffee shop a few blocks from her apartment. Most of the stores along this stretch of road were difficult to enter with a wheelchair because there was a step from the sidewalk into the door designed to make life difficult.
But after seeing her go by a few times, the owner of this coffeeshop had someone put a cement ramp from the sidewalk to the door, and then the inside had changed to be spaced out enough for her to maneuver easily. Turned out the owner was one of the many people she’d helped as a librarian, helping him find resources to set up his very own coffee shop.
Good deeds paid forward, she supposed. She came by often, and half the time left with a free pastry.
It was late afternoon on a workday which meant the place was pretty empty, with the lunch rush having dissipated. She waved at the familiar barista, who immediately began making her usual coffee and bagging a couple cookies, and turned to the broad man sitting at one of the tables by the window.
She sat across from Jason, with a bright smile. She didn’t think it would ever feel like less of a miracle to see Jason alive. He looked so healthy now, the malnourishment and the stunted growth healed by the Lazarus Pits. As much as she hated what he went through, she couldn’t help but be thankful he was here, smiling back at her.
“Hey, Babs,” Jason said. He got up and gave her a hug before settling down with his coffee mug.
“How’s your head?” Barbara asked, gesturing to the bandage taped to his forehead.
“Haven’t had any complaints,” Jason said with a stupid grin.
Barbara flicked his hand. “You’ve been spending too much time with Dick and Wally.”
Jason scrunched his nose. “Ew gross. I’ll have you know this is Roy’s fault. Wait, not like that!” Barbara snorted at Jason’s panicked expression as he stumbled over protests and explanations.
The barista delivered Barbara’s coffee and cookies, saving Jason from embarrassing himself more.
They were shortbread cookies, and the shop always made them into cute designs. Since news went out about the Joker’s death, they were shaped like a jester’s head, and there were red x’s iced over the eyes.
Barbara handed one over to Jason. “It almost doesn’t feel real,” Barbara said, staring down at the cookie.
“Yeah, it doesn’t.” They sat for a moment in silence, each lost in dark memories. “You double checked after Bruce, didn’t you?”
Barbara snorted. “Of course, I did. Wasn’t going to leave something so important that up to that guy. I also watched the cremation. Not a thing went wrong.”
Jason nodded. “Good. Now watch me devour this fucker’s head.”
Barbara pulled out her phone and took a picture of them both biting into Joker’s scrumptious face.
“So,” Jason said when they finished their treats. He leaned closer to her, and Barbara raised her eyebrow. “I heard you’re working at the library again. Anything interesting going on?”
“Hmmm, the book club is on a sci-fi kick, so I’m in the middle of rereading some of H.G. Wells’ works.”
“Time machine?”
“Minority Report,” Barbara corrected. “You should join.”
“Maybe,” Jason said. But Barbara could tell he was interested. At least that hadn’t changed. He still loved his books.
“Have you talked to B much lately?” Jason asked.
“A bit. He thanked me for helping you and Tim, but not much other than that. Stop making that face, it’s fine, really. Tim’s been stopping by to talk computers with me and keeping me apprised of the interesting drama.”
“Yeah, same here. The kid won’t leave me alone.”
“You like it, though,” Barbara said. Jason immediately tried to deny it, but she saw right through him. Tim hadn’t messaged him in a day, and he’d gone into full overprotective brother mode.
“B’s parenting has gotten lax since I died,” Jason snarked. “You know the reason he went missing for two days with no notice? B was sick with the cold, and Tim doesn’t live in the Manor. He’s got an apartment in the city, and apparently no one checks up on the kid.”
Barbara hummed. On one hand, she understood. Robin made the decision to go out on his own without notifying anyone, and with Batman out of commission, a few days of no-contact was reasonable. On the other hand, Bruce’s entire personality was built atop a foundation of paranoia, so him not knowing where his sons were, even while out sick, felt like gross negligence.
Especially with the way Bruce used to act when Jason wore the colors. Jason couldn’t deviate from his route home from school without a frantic call from Bruce checking up on him.
“Besides someone’s gotta look after the terror. You know he basically broke into my motel the day after I stabbed Dick.”
“Did he really?” She leaned forward, sensing some juicy details. She’d known Jason stabbed Dick, because the idiot never stopped complaining about it, how he’d been so startled by Jason’s return and then had gotten stabbed right in the stomach (isn’t that awful, Babs? *cue the puppy eyes and the whining to get her attention). She hadn’t known much of what happened after that.
“Yes, in his civvies. I was so close to shooting him, you have no idea.”
“I’m sure I have a clue. The first time I talked to him was when they were hunting you down, and he’s definitely got that sass you and Dick have.”
“Don’t compare me to Dick!”
“Right. Just the two most overdramatic brothers in the world.”
“I am not overdramatic.” Jason stuck his nose in the air.
“Keep telling yourself that, Mr. sometimes you have to face things head-on,” Barbara teased, throwing the back of her hand across her forehead dramatically and lowering her voice to a growl as she threw his words back in his face.
At the time, she had been terrified that Batman would be too late. Being the ‘guy in the chair’ was a powerful position. She had the ability to track down leads and scour the city in a matter of minutes. However, it left her unable to do anything but watch when bad things happened. Most of the time, her position was best where it was.
She had the ability to be relatively clear-headed and not amped up on the adrenaline spikes or the all-encompassing shock that the in-field vigilantes experienced in harrowing situations. It meant someone could access resources and send the appropriate assistance when it was needed the most.
It also meant that there would be a long stretch of time as she stared at her camera feed, heart in her throat, as she prayed to anyone that could listen that she made the right choices, that help was indeed on the way, that she hadn’t lied to the injured parties. That she wouldn’t watch someone she loved die in front of her eyes, too far to be of any help.
Seeing Jason scale the Amusement Mile ride, seeing Tim, bloodied and bruised and bound, through Jason’s feed…. It made something in her chest tighten like a vise, refusing to let her lungs expand.
The Joker. That damned red smile laughing as Jason was sent to the ground. Hearing Jason’s stuttered breathing as he descended into a panic attack. She wanted to say something, to speak to him, to ground him in some way, but her tongue was frozen. The perspective put Joker looming over Jason, the lighting highlighting his ugly face. It was too much, far too much.
And then he was gone. Replaced by Tim being led away by that clown. Not another one. Please, not another child in the suit devoured by that monster.
Jason had snapped out of it in time to stop his escape. Barbara could only flick to Batman’s comms and demand he hurry his ass up unless he wants to lose another son. Batman was five minutes away. Five minutes. So much could happen in five minutes.
Jason prioritized Tim. Again. He’d done it once, and he did it again. He might like to pretend he doesn’t care, but his actions spoke for themselves. Barbara wished that she could be there to shield her little brother from being faced by his demon. It seemed the universe heard her plea, because then the Joker fell from view, his body disappearing through a hole in the ground. She listened through the audio to the wet squelch of his landing.
That part of the tapes was saved to her computer. Along with the footage of the autopsy and the cremation. Reassurance that Joker was dead and gone. For good.
A rollercoaster of emotions, and yet it ended with the relief of Joker’s death.
Now that everyone was safe and recovering, she could laugh at Jason’s ridiculous antics and his dramatic ways.
“In my defense-”
Barbara threw her crumpled napkin at his face. “You have no defense. Just admit you were an idiot and we can move on.”
Jason made an offended noise. “I am no idiot! If you want to talk to an idiot, just call up Dick.”
“Don’t I know it.” Jason startled at her serious tone.
“What happened between you, by the way? You used to be thick as thieves before the… before I died.”
Barbara sighed. “Well, you died. I was in physical therapy, learning that I couldn’t be Batgirl again. Dick… he’s more emotionally competent than Bruce, but that’s a low bar. Dick threw himself into work and eventually stopped calling. Not much other than that.”
“He’s a fucking moron. And I’m guessing, from the way you’re talking, that he hasn’t been any better in the recent months.”
“Nope,” she said, popping the p.
“Let’s start an ‘I hate Dick club,’” Jason smirked.
“You do realize that people will misunderstand, and it’ll become a club of lesbians, right?”
Jason sat back and pondered for a moment. “Huh, didn’t think of that. You think Harley and Ivy will join?” It was a well-known fact that Harley and Ivy were a ticket item. Barbara was happy for Harley; insane as she was, she never deserved to be stuck with the Joker.
“Oh, speaking of Ivy, did Tim send you this picture, too?” Jason pulled out his phone to show an old picture of Jason as Robin. It was taken right after Ivy had thrown a pod of cuddle pollen right into his face. The picture was of Batgirl ferrying Robin on her back, while Ivy pointed and laughed, unaware of the dark shadow directly behind her.
It had been a good night. Back before shit hit the fan. Robin had clung onto her, and when she refused to stay the night in Wayne Manor, she let him stay over at her little apartment for the night. They’d cuddled and watched Clueless and Legally Blonde. It had been a good night, a good memory. One that she had completely forgotten until presented with the evidence.
“No! Send this to me,” Barbara demanded. “Most of his pictures are physical-only, so I don’t get to see them.”
The afternoon sun streamed through the picture windows, warming the both of them as they chattered about anything and everything. Barbara found herself excited to have lunch with Jason every week, if only to make fun of the bats and talk about books.