ladyofgotham | 1

1 | Video

[The smile she gives the camera is the sort she's practiced a thousand times; friendly and soft and completely unthreatening.]

Hello. My name is Barbara Gordon, and I think there's been some sort of mistake.

[Her voice, too, is a gentle one, though edged with confusion.]

I have no idea why I'm here. I'm nothing but a novelist, an activist – I'm pretty sure my worst crime is a few boring lectures.

[She runs a hand through her hair, lets the fingers tremble just slightly.]

I really would like to go home. The Waynes – my family will be worried.

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[Her eyebrows arch at that, and indignance flares, though only a hint of it shows in her expression - the slightest tightening of her smile.

Only her family gets to call her Babs.]

Do I know you? [She never forgets a face, and his just isn't registering, even if there's something vaguely familiar about it.]

[Oh, this is very bad.]

It's me, Dick. You do know me, right? [Prompting, with maybe a little bit of hope sneaking in there. Because seriously please know who I am. :C]

[Barbara slowly shakes her head, brow furrowing.]

I'm sorry, no. Dick...? [She doubts a surname will help, but information is information.]

Grayson. [He almost isn't sure what else to add to that, because if she doesn't know him, she doesn't know him, and really he should be interrogating her about where she's from and what she knows, not feeling like he needs to explain why she should know him.] We've known each other since we were kids.

[...The Grayson boy?

The surprise is clear on her face, she doesn't bother to mask it. Then she's shaking her head, because no, that doesn't make any sense at all.]

No. I haven't seen you since you were a child.

[She has no doubt it's him, though - it's clear, now, why he's familiar. There are no nights she forgets, but some are especially vivid, even across a decade.]

[And for some reason, that's what gets him to close off, focus on finding out the details and why she's here.]

What happened?

[Meaning, why are you here, why are things different, and it's said in a tone that's sort of skirting around Batvoice because how do cope otherwise. :|]

[It's tempting, to react to that voice with a growl of her own, but all he gets is a hapless shrug.]

I wish I could tell you. We were just sitting down to dinner.

That's the last thing you remember? [WHY ARE YOU AN INMATE THIS IS JUST ALL KINDS OF NOT OKAY. :C]

That and a knock at the door.

...I'm sure Bruce got it, he usually does.

[He's tempted to ask more along those lines, but there's a part of him that feels like he knows where it was going and isn't going to like the answer, so he just moves on for now.]

How do you know him?

[She's already chafing at being questioned, but it's a harmless one to answer; everyone knows this story. Everyone in Gotham, anyway.]

His parents took me in when mine were killed. [She says it calmly, quietly; she can speak of it, now, with a level voice and a steady gaze.

It is, in fact, the only way she can speak of it.]

[This is just all kinds of weird and horrible, and the surprise on his face is definitely, definitely noticeable because just. What. No.]

What? What happened?

[Her voice is quieter, now. She hasn't given the details herself in a very long time.] He was going to shoot Martha and Thomas. My father - wouldn't just stand by and let him. [There's so much pride in her voice. She never had to fake that.] My mother tried to hold him back.

[She shakes her head.] It was too late. He shot them both and he would have killed the rest of us too.

[And once again that's a shock, and he doesn't bother hiding it, because that's sort of like getting punched in the stomach.]

Oh my god, Babs, I'm so sorry.

[His reaction is disconcerting; most people aren't so sincere in their horror, not really.] ...It was a long time ago.

[She's peering at him, now - but when she speaks, her voice is gentle.] How long has it been for you?

I'm twenty four. [Well, technically twenty three, because we don't age on the Barge, but. He's been here for a year so. It's been a while since he was a scared little kid who just watched his parent die.

But, that said, he moves along to get this out of the way, his voice businesslike, but still a little gentler, because there's no real easy way to say in my universe, your parents weren't gunned to death in front of you in an alley.] But- the first thing you should know about this place right now is that it pulls people in from different points in the time stream, and from parallel worlds, sometimes, which is why I've known you since we were younger and I guess you've only met me once.

In my world, Bruce's parents were killed.

[That stuns the speech right out of her.

It's not something she's used to, being so utterly surprised. It's not parallel worlds, she's always had theories on that concept. But the very idea of - ]

Bruce...

[It's a pained whisper, and the first word she's said here that wasn't completely calculated.

She takes a moment, gathers her thoughts and her breath. When she speaks again her voice is firm and cool.]

Crime Alley?

[She's not disregarding the possibility of this being some sort of trick, but it would be a bizarre one.]

Yeah. [And he leaves it at that for now, because he gets how processing this is hard and you need a little time to just. Adjust to the entire thing. :c]

[Barbara pushes a hand through her hair, twisting it in her hands as she tries to ignore how sick she feels. Martha and Tom - she never called them Mom and Dad, she hides so much from them, but they're still family .

Her voice remains calm, when she speaks again, but it's quiet.]

Was he alone?

When it happened, yeah. Alfred Pennyworth and Leslie Thompkins looked after him after it happened. [And he's almost tempted to explain and then he showed up, years later, and that they have a huge circle of people that care about him, but stops himself before saying anything about it.]

[Her first truly genuine smile is slight and strained.] Good old Alfred. And Leslie - should have guessed that. [She owes her life a dozen times over to that woman.]

So where do you come in?

[There's a brief moment where the smile's returned, but it fades quickly.]

Bruce took me in after my parents were killed.

[...Huh.]

...Bruce as a father. That's...

[That's just odd. But - clearly, this is a very different Bruce. He must be.]

So you grew up in the manor? [It's a bit disconcerting, to think they lived in the same place, and yet...didn't.]

Yeah, I did. [And that sort of leads to the next question i.e. do you know about the Bat stuff still or not. :|]

Interesting place to grow up.

One heck of a transition. [She's wondering, too - does their Gotham have a Bat at all?

Her next question is perfectly light; one would easily mistake it for simple conversation.]

You ever explore the caves?

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