Flytrap | WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST

18 | Petal

Though it felt like a whole other lifetime ago, the Academy had taught Barbara some very important things about being a police officer. Like how to fire a gun, how to drive defensively, and above all, how to conduct an investigation.

Seeing as how the first two weren't of much use anymore, it was this last lesson she carried with her. Specifically, the concept of police discretion.

Often alone on the job, police officers were given discretion—or the freedom to decide—what to do when a situation arose. This could be anything from deciding to make an arrest to shooting a gun.

In Barbara's case, she had used it to decide whether to search into Bruce Wayne. Normally, this would mean actually performing a search, but she wasn't stupid enough to go break into Wayne Manor and expect to come out alive. If the million-dollar security system didn't shoot, electrocute, or vaporize her first, then Bruce would surely take care of her. He and her dad might be the best of friends, but something told her their friendship didn't run deep enough to spare a would-be intruder, even if it was the police commissioner's daughter.

"You're shivering," Harleen said from beside her. "Are ya' cold?"

Barbara shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a sigh. "No, I just want to get off this stupid train already."

"Don't worry. We're almost there," Harleen said, snapping her gum.

"All right." Barbara shut her eyes and leaned back. As much as she might have wanted to, the jerky bumps of the train cart reminded her sleep would be impossible. Maybe at the library, she could get some much-needed shuteye after she found what she needed.

Her eyes flickered open at the thought. What would she find exactly?

That all too familiar sinking feeling in her stomach returned. She hoped it was last night's prawns, finally about to spew out of her. At least then she'd know she had been food poisoned after all. At least then she could call off this investigation and go home.

But nothing ever came up. Not for her, and not for her dad either. They had both been fine the entire night and even up until this morning. And that's how she knew whatever had made Bruce and Pamela throw up wasn't from food poisoning.

That's how she knew she had to look into Bruce Wayne's tragic past.

"Wayne Tower," a muffled voice rasped through the speaker as the subway slowed to a rough stop.

"Oh! This is us!" Harleen jumped to her feet and started unlacing the strap that held Barbara in place. After tossing it aside, she grabbed the wheelchair from behind and pushed Barbara off the cart and onto the platform. Humming to herself, Harleen skipped out of the dimly lit station and into the not-so-bright daylight. But it seemed not even the city's dreary atmosphere could wipe that annoying smile off her face. She was on cloud nine, and it would probably take a lightning strike to bring her down.

Unfortunately, Barbara couldn't share in Harleen's sentiments. Her sleep-deprived brain wouldn't allow it.

"Hey, Harleen." Barbara glanced over her shoulder. "Don't you still need to buy a dress for the wedding?"

"Nah, I'm good. I still got plenty of time." She continued humming as she made her way down the cracked sidewalk.

"Uh, the wedding's this weekend."

Harleen came to an abrupt halt, slapping her hand against her forehead. "Oh, shoot! You're right!"

Barbara turned her head back around and grinned to herself. "Well, why don't you go out and buy one? I'm just going to be working at the library, doing boring book stuff. Shopping sounds like a lot more fun."