conflict and compromise / barbara gordon

run wenlock run

Gotham police had a startling fast reaction time to threat calls, Wenlock knew. So, if she called five, maybe ten minutes before leaving the mansion, they should arrive before she's even out the door. 

Time to test that hypothetical, she thought, as the bustle in the dining room started dying down and people began filtering out of both the room and, in some cases, the manor. 

She followed Barbara with a practised smile, casually taking her hand as if it were muscle memory and allowing her to lead them out. She stalled for a little, staring at the various extravagant paintings on the wall with amused wonder, waiting for the signal from Oracle.

"Go."

Wenlock screwed up her face in the dramatic way Barbara expected her to when she was uncomfortable with sharing something.

"What's up," Barbara said, in that ever-patient way that Wenlock had grown to be used to.

"Do you think the toilets are as fancy as the rest of the mansion?" Wenlock responded with what she hoped was embarrassment, she never was good at acting anything that wasn't confidence.

"Down that left hall under the staircase, third door to the left, next to the little plant pot," responded Barbara helpfully.

"I also left Damian's gift in my vest," Wenlock cut in, in what she hoped wasn't too hasty a tone, "I don't know where that is..."

"I'll find Alfred for you," said Barbara with a smile, "Wait for me here after yeah?"

"Sure."

And with that, she was free for a short time. She strolled casually towards the bathroom, then past it, turning a corner to a majestically old grandfather clock. With Signal having finished the morning to noon patrol, the Batgirls and Tim trudging into their rooms just minutes ago and Damian declaring his intent to take care of his cow in the barn, theoretically, she should have a few precious minutes to do this. Taking a deep breath she began rearranging the clock's hands to the time of death of Bruce Wayne's parents, and with a silent swing, the deceptively heavy grandfather clock swung open like a door, revealing a gloomy dark staircase. 

This was a turning point, she knew, and even though Oracle's calculations had this timing of the operation succeeding with an almost unprecedented 80% success rate, her heart was beating harder than ever before. She tilted her head, hearing the telltale sound of approaching tires out the window, and booked it down the stairs, taking them two at a time and praying there was nobody in whatever room lied below.

"Holy shit," Wenlock whispered to herself as the thin staircase opened up into the largest cave she'd ever seen, fit with animatronic dinosaurs and giant pennies. Wasting no time, she ran over to the giant computer sitting against the cave wall, merely searching for a map and snapping a picture with her phone, before dashing back up the staircase.

♡♡♡

Something was wrong.

It was a feeling that Barbara knew, that she had grown accustomed to over the years. She paused her walk through the foyer, debating to herself on whether or not she should run back to the bathroom and check on Wenlock. Hearing steps, she turned to look at the pairing of Alfred and Bruce walking down the staircase. An ever observant Alfred seemed to have picked up on her distress, directing himself towards her.

"Alfred! I was just wondering where you put Wenlock's vest, she had a gift for Damian and-" she was cut off by a familiar sound coming out of her phone, in synchrony with a phone in Bruce's pocket. 

She pulled out her phone, it was a warning coming out of Bruce's Bat alarm signal. She frowned quizzically at Bruce, "What's this?"

"Your father got messaged on all his technology... five minutes ago, extensive files on all the identities of all vigilantes in Gotham," Bruce was concentrating now, voice lowered into an almost Batman like timbre, "Trackers say he's already outside Wayne estate gates." 

"You have trackers on-" Barbara shut up, of course he did, "If he's here already we should..." she nodded towards the front door.

With an agreeing grunt to her, Bruce began walking towards the front door, not bothering to put on his signature smile. Opening the door as they heard the tires stopping on asphalt, they walked out, Alfred watching by the doorway, greeting him before he had exited the car.

"Bruce."

"Gordon."

The tension in the air was palpable, Barbara thought, this wasn't an exchange of information, this was the addressing of a long avoided conversation. She watched as her father opened his phone and handed it to Bruce, averting his eyes from her. 

"It's on all my devices, and I'm pretty sure if the government really wanted to know, they could find it," he said, "I can't keep claiming plausible deniability... you know what this means."

She watched as Bruce's face shifted minutely, and she knew what this meant to him, to them. 

"Jim," Bruce seemed to be trying to put all that he couldn't say into these words, "We thank you for coming to tell us, we'll see you around," and with a pat on the back the two men seemed resigned to their fate.

The rest of the manor seemed to have noticed the arrival now, forming a small crowd right outside the front door. Her father gave them a nod, and turned as if to leave, then he paused.

"Barbara."

She heard a wince from someone at the door, shooting them the shortest, angriest glare she could before turning back.

"Dad. Let's talk."