Why We're Here

Laughing Off The Pain

"I'm telling you, Donna, college is amazing!" I exclaimed, "The classes are so interesting. I can't wait to do my first project!"
"I can't believe you chose that over beating up bad guys."
I rolled my eyes. Donna Troy, also known as Wonder Girl, loved beating up the bad guys. We had become close friends back in our time with The Teen Titans. She had been one of the two people who were genuinely surprised I chose to retire.
"Donna, trust me, this is so much better."
The streets of Gotham were dark. It was nearly three in the morning, most people would be terrified to be outside at that time, but that didn't stop me. I finished my night classes, and stopped by the grocery store. It was nearly Barbara's birthday, and I was going to surprise her with a cake. I just had to figure out how.
"Sitting in a classroom all day sounds boring," Donna commented.
I shook my head, fully knowing she couldn't see me, "Donna, no, look, today we started studying engines. I actually got to take one apart, I still have sludge on my cheek!"
"Lucy, you really are one bizarre girl."
"I know, that's what makes me endearing."
Donna chuckled. A quiet beeping came from my phone. Pulling it from my ear, I saw that Barbara was calling me. I found it a bit odd, but she might just be calling me to get her food. Her Dad had been visiting all day, I would suspect he left a few hours ago.
"I have to go, Donna, someone's on the other end."
"Alright, call you tomorrow," she replied, "Bye, Lucy."
"Bye, Donna."
As soon as I hung up on her, I answered Barbara. Placing the phone to my ear, I said, "Babs? What's going on?"
"Lucy-"
Her voice was strained, like she was in extreme pain. I instantly stopped in place. Something was wrong, especially if she called me instead of the police.
"Barbara, what's wrong?" I demanded.
Barbara was silent for a moment. When she did speak, she sounded more like a dying horse than a human girl, "Attacked... shot... bleeding... help."
"Barbara, stay where you are, I am on my way."
I dropped the groceries in a nearby alley. Without even considering any bystanders, I scaled the nearby fire escape. I made it to the roof and began to leap from rooftop to rooftop. It was much quicker than streets, and I could easily get to our apartment on the top floor.
The apartment building came into view minutes later. I swung onto the fire escape and hurried to our window. It was unlocked, which I also found odd, but I didn't question it. I simply flung it open and jumped in.
Instantly, I was met with a pool of blood. Barbara was in the middle of it, her hand loosely clenched around her phone. She was even paler than usual, and looked on the verge of blacking out.
"Barbara!" I cried out, hurrying to kneel at her side, "Barbara, stay with me, you can't go to sleep."
Her eyes moved towards me, but they were unfocused. I wondered if she could even see me, "Lucy?"
"It's me, it's alright, we're going to get you to a hospital," I replied.
After years of training with Batman, I knew several medical procedures. I ripped the curtains off the window and tore it in half. Lifting Barbara's torso, I began to tightly bandage her wounds. It wouldn't be a permanent fix, but it would stop her from losing to much blood.
"Barbara, stay with me, what happened?" I demanded.
Barbara blinked several times, "Dad and I were... talking. There was a knock... Joker... shot me.. Dad."
I placed one hand on Barbara's cheek, "Joker did this?"
"To prove a point, he said."
"That sounds like him," I held her head, "Talk to me, what's your name?"
"Barbara Gordon."
"Where do you live?"
"Gotham City."
As she spoke, I prepared to dial 9-1-1, but stopped. Gotham always had traffic, even at three in the morning. There would be no way she would make it to the hospital on time. We needed a quicker method of transportation, and I knew exactly what.
"Keep talking," I told Barbara as I dialed, "Repeat to me everything you just said."
"My name is Barbara Gordon. I live in Gotham City. My father is Police Commissioner James Gordon. I'm Batgirl."
Finally, I finished dialing. The person on the other side took four rings to answer. When he did, he said, "This better be good, I was kicking some serious ass.
"Dick, Barbara's been shot, and I need your help to get her to the hospital," I hurried.
Dick hesitated, "What? Where are you?"
"At our apartment. Hurry, I don't know how long she's been like this."
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure," I replied, "She called me twenty minutes ago. Said Joker shot her."
"Why?"
"I don't know, she's nearly unconscious, just get over here."
"I'm on the way."
I hung up, "Barbara, listen, Dick's coming, he's going to get you to the hospital, but I have to get you better bandages."
She didn't reply. I gently slapped her cheek and shouted, "Barbara! Talk to me."
"My name is Barbara Gordon."
She began to relay everything she's been saying. I hurried to the kitchen to grab the masking tape from our recent unpacking. When I made it back to her, she was still reciting her mantra.
"I'm sorry, Babs, but this is going to hurt."
I had to lift her in order to wrap the tape around the curtain. She cried out in pain, tiny tears tracing down her cheeks. I almost felt bad, but I knew it was necessary. The bleeding had slowed.
Dick flew in seconds later. He ran to kneel next to Barbara and cup her cheek, "Meet us at the hospital."
"Right, just get her there as fast as you can."
"I'm on it."
He picked Barbara up marriage-style. The woman cried out, but didn't struggle. Dick held her close to his chest as he jumped out the window. I watched them jump from rooftop to rooftop. As they vanished from sight, a silent prayer escaped my lips.
"Oh God, please make it."
There was no time to waste. I grabbed my backpack and shoved Barbara's most necessary items in it. Anything she would kill me for leaving went into the bag. Tossing the keys above my hand, I ran out into the hall, locking the door behind me.
If I took the rooftops, I would make it to the hospital just a few minutes after Dick. I had to get there later and pretend someone had called me. That meant I had to take the streets.
I sprinted all the way there. My coat billowed behind me like a cape. I didn't pay any attention to anyone around me. Only once did I glance around, and that was when I heard the familiar billows of a cape. Glancing up, a saw a dark figure leap across the rooftops and promptly vanish into darkness.
When I arrived at the hospital, Dick had already gone. I sped into the waiting room and straight to the receptionist desk, "The police told me my friend was brought here?"
"Can I get a name?"
"Barbara Gordon," I replied, "They said she was shot in the stomach."
The woman looked over her computer screen, "She just went into surgery."
"Thank you," I breathed.
The woman nodded. I moved to sit in one of the many uncomfortable waiting chairs. Next to me, an older woman looked on the verge of tears. A father and son sat calmly on the chairs opposite. None of us said a word to each other.
I braced my elbows on my knees and buried my hands in my face. This was my fault, if I had just been at home I could've stopped him. Joker must have surprised Barbara, or else she would've taken him down. If I had just been there, Barbara wouldn't be dead or dying.
"Please be okay," I whispered, "Please, please, please."
I was not a religious person, but at that moment, I prayed to every God, Goddess, and deity I could think of.
***
"Family of Barbara Gordon," the nurse called.
I had been sitting in that waiting room all night. Commissioner Gordon didn't arrive until the next morning. When he did, he spouted something about being kidnapped by Joker and just then getting free. The bloody lip and black eye made me believe him.
Dick had called several times over the night, but he couldn't come. I told him I'd call him when Barbara woke up, or when she didn't.
"That's us," Commissioner Gordon stood, "I'm her father."
I peered out from behind his back, "I'm her roommate."
"The surgery went well, she is wide awake, but-" the nurse stopped.
Gordon looked like he was about to jump out of his skin, "But what?"
"The bullet severed one of her spinal tendons," the nurse looked sad, "I'm afraid no amount of surgery or therapy could make her walk again."
I was completely prepared to hold Commissioner Gordon up. To my surprise, he stood sturdy. He must be used to getting strange news. Behind his eyes, I could see, his steady face masked a broken man.
"Can we go see her?" Gordon asked.
The nurse nodded, gesturing down the hall. Gordon began that direction with me slightly behind him. As we went, I gazed up at the man.
"Commissioner Gordon," I hesitantly said, "It's alright to cry."
Gordon paused, glancing over his shoulder back at me, "She's always been my strength, now it's my turn to be hers."
I didn't know how to reply to that. Gordon lead me to the door. He hesitated in pushing it open, resting his fingers against the cold metal.
It was wonder he managed to stay upright. Hearing his daughter had no chance of ever walking again was enough to warrant a total breakdown, but he stood tall. That was one of the traits I admired most about Commissioner Gordon, he never failed to keep a straight face, even when facing tragedy.
"Lucille, could I have a moment alone with my daughter?" he asked quietly.
I pressed my twined hands against my chest, "Of course, Commissioner Gordon."
"Thank you."
He opened the door. For a moment, I got a glimpse of Barbara. She was flat on her back and staring at the cieling. The lights twinkled against the tiny tears falling from the corners of her eyes.
This was a fate worse than death, especially for someone like Barbara. For a girl who went out nightly to fight bad guys, being paralyzed with no chance of recovery was as bad as being told you had terminal cancer. I couldn't imagine the pain she felt knowing she had lost the biggest part of her life.
I stepped to the side in order to call Dick. He had made me promise to call as soon as I had news, and I knew he would spread it to Bruce.
When I told him, he took the news with a straight voice, but I had known him long enough to know he wanted to cry for his friend. He was raised differently, however, and we hung up with him promising to tell Bruce.
I sat down on one of the chairs in the hallway. I wanted to mourn for my friend, even though she wasn't dead. I wanted to mourn for her tragedy, and cry for her loss. But, I knew differently, Barbara didn't need pity, she needed strength. Her strength would come from those around her. I like to believe that's what Gordon meant.
We had to be strong, no matter how much we wanted to break down in tears. We had to be strong for Barbara. She needed us now more than ever, and I was determined to be there for her.
After half an hour of patiently waiting, the door to Barbara's room opened. I glanced up to see Gordon walking out. He gently shut the door and turned to me, "She wants to talk to you. I'm going out for a smoke."
I nodded. Gordon began to walk down the hall just as I stood up. Slowly, I went to the door. The same hesitation stopped me that stopped Gordon. I laid my fingertips on the door, willing myself to open it.
Barbara hadn't changed positions. I'm not even sure if she could. She turned her head slightly to look at me. HEr eyes were glistening with tears.
"Lucy," she did her best to keep her voice from cracking.
I knelt by her bed and grabbed her hands, "It's alright, Babs, you're going to be fine."
"I can't be Batgirl anymore," tears were actively pouring from her face.
I did my best to show her a comforting smile, "You'll always be Batgirl, Barbara, even if you can't walk."
She blinked away the tears. I squeezed her hand supportingly as she gazed back at the cieling. In that dreary hospital room during a breezy Saturday morning, Barbara Gordon's voice broke. She told me the one sentence that would forever stick with me.
"What do I do now?"