DISCLAIMER: Birds of Prey and its characters are the property of Miller/Tobin Productions, Warner Brothers and DC comics. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to my nagging committee of one, my own PD. She is totally responsible for dragging me to the darkside of more and more fandoms. I'm using her favorite excuse line in this, but she promised not to sue me. Mistakes are all mine and so are all the commas. You can never have too many of those. Commas, not mistakes. {g}
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Helena Buys The Farm
By CaseyROCKS
It's early morning in New Gotham. The rhythmic tapping of keys is the only sound in the secret lair of...
{Cough}
{What?}
{Ixnay onway ethay ecretsay airlay}
{What??}
{Can you please not refer to it as the secret lair? I mean I know all the super villains are aware we live here but every time a newbie comes to the city, he seems to think it's an opportunity to make a name for himself and he tries to break in. Usually they only cause minor damage but then the insurance company finds out, our rates go up and ...so do you mind?}
{Uh...sure…no problem}
{Thanks}
{Where was I..}
The only sound heard in the impenetrable fortress...
{Cough}
{No?}
{No}
{Suggestion?}
{Is this story going to have any super meta human villains in it?}
{No}
{Then could you just call it our home?}
{Okay. Can I refer to it as the Clocktower?}
Barbara turns and looks at the giant clockface.
{Ummmm, duh…I mean, sure}
{Great thanks}
{You're welcome}
It's early morning in New Gotham. The rhythmic tapping of keys is the only sound in the Clocktower...the incredible home of Barbara Gordon aka...
{Cough, cough}
{What now?}
{NO secret identities either, please?}
{Sigh}
{Please?}
{Fine. I really don't need to mention those anyway. The readers are already familiar with you both}
{Really? Wow! Thank you}
{Yeah, yeah…}
{Really. I mean it. I won't interrupt anymore. Continue please...}
It's very early morning, pre-dawn in New Gotham. The rhythmic tapping of keys is the only sound in the Clocktower...the incredible high-rise home of Barbara Gordon and her partner.
Barbara Gordon, a fiery redhead with incredibly expressive jade green eyes...
{Awwww, thanks}
is just finishing up her latest computer stuff.
{Computer stuff? You call yourself a writer and that's the best you can come up with…computer stuff?}
{I'm a writer not a geek}
{Ever hear of RESEARCH?}
{Y'know, I could easily tweak a few things here and there, make this an Olivia/Casey story AND not have to put up with this abuse}
{Sorry, I'm a little sensitive about the Delphi and what I do}
Barbara Gordon, a fiery redhead with incredibly expressive jade green eyes...
{Giggle}
is just finishing up her latest super secret programming diagnostic that will make her the goddess of cyber geeks the world over.
{Little over the top there}
{Just go with it}
Meanwhile, lounging on the couch is her partner, Helena Kyle. Helena has one leg crossed over the other. A magazine rests on her knee. The only movement is the foot which is tapping in time to the music playing under heavy earphones and an occasional head bob that sends her disheveled brunette mop of hair into motion.
"Oooh, pretty," Helena drawled. She pushed her headphones back on her head,
"Hey Red? Can I have one of these?" The brunette held up the magazine.
Barbara turned to look over at the couch; she squinted to get a better look at the picture, then arched an eyebrow, shook her head and smiled. "The bike, the blonde or the leather chaps, Hel?"
"Yes," came the answer with an eyebrow waggle, which Barbara couldn't see.
"Well, if you are a good little vigilante, maybe Santa will bring you the bike for Christmas. The blonde is a definite NO and the leather chaps are a…are you planning on wearing them on sweeps?"
"No."
"Then the chaps are a definite YES. I'll even order them for you."
"Cool. I love you, babe. Think I'll keep ya." Helena replaced the headphone over her ears and went back to flipping through the magazine.
Barbara smiled at the sentiment so easily spoken by her love. "I love you too, Hel."
She turned back to her computers. But her mind was focused elsewhere. A few more keystrokes later she pushed back a bit in her chair. Barbara sighed deeply and removed her sexy square glasses (author's note: the Alex Cabot model, available at fine eyewear stores everywhere)...biting down on one ear tip she contemplated her course of action. Making her mental choice, she turned to face the couch.
"Helena?" She called out. Then louder... "HELENA!"
Helena sat up on her elbows and slid the headphones back on her head. A giant sexy smile graced her face. "Whatcha need, Red?" She reclined back onto the couch.
"Helena? Sweetheart? Let's get married."
Helena, dumbfounded by the question, silently pondered her reply, unfortunately her mouth didn't cooperate. "Why would I want to buy the cow when I get the milk for free," she mumbled quietly.
"OH no you didn't!" Barbara threw her glasses on the desktop and maneuvered her wheelchair down the ramp and over to the couch.
"OH crap!" Helena scrambled to sit up. Her magazine went flying over the back of the sofa and the headphone sat haphazardly on her head.
"You did not just call me a cow?" Barbara repeated, incredulously.
"Ummmmm..." Helena looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Sonova…did I say that out loud?" Then mumbled, "Ears like a freakin' bat."
"Indeed." Barbara choked through a clenched jaw. She waited for Helena's attention and pointed a finger at her. "And the 'bat thing' was a bad joke not even worthy of you. Now, would you care to explain, the cow reference?"
Helena continued to fidget and look at everything but Barbara. "Uhhhh…"
"Take your time dear. We cows have the utmost patience; all we do is stand around in a field and graze."
"Well, you do like salads, a…" She jokingly muttered. At Barbara's lethal glare, Helena cut herself off from that train of thought. She then waved a hand around, dismissively, "I'm just saying…" She closed her mouth with a snick. Smoke? Do I smell smoke? Am I on fire? She patted herself down.
Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath and started to speak but was cut off by Helena.
"It's sooooooooo noooooooot my faaauuuuuuuult."
Barbara tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. She looked behind herself and then all around the Clocktower. "Whose fault is it?"
"Well, you know besides my really cool meta powers I also got the "runoffatthemouth gene." She paused. "I am doomed to a tactless existence," she said with what she hoped was a charming smile.
"Well, you are half right."
Helena's brows knit as she considered that.
"I'll tell you what. I'm going to give you a chance to explain. I'll throw you a rope, so to speak."
"Lifeline?" Helena asked, hopefully.
"Probably not." Barbara deadpanned.
Helena sat on the couch with her hands clasped between her knees. She thought about how she was going to weasel out of this. What is it with all these animal references, anyway? She looked up at Barbara who was sitting, staring, with her arms crossed, patiently waiting.
"Honey?" Helena started and reached out to touch Barbara's arm. "I do not think of you as a cow." She paused. "I mean, y'know, I am like a cat, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You, you are more like…I mean…with your red hair and brilliant green eyes…well you are more like a beautiful fox."
"Pointy nose."
"Clever."
"Devious."
"Quiet and resourceful."
"Sneaky."
"I'm not getting anywhere here, am I?" Helena asked, resigned.
Barbara shook her head. "Nope."
"You are as stubborn as a …"
"HEL-EN-A KYLE…Do NOT finish that thought if you know what's good for you."
"Right." Helena conceded. Trying a new tactic of stall and stall some more, and hoping for a miracle, the younger woman asked quietly, "Ummm, can I get something to eat before I continue?" Helena threw the headphones aside as she got up off the couch and turned to make her way into the kitchen. She only took one step.
"Sure, just don't eat anything heavy for your last meal."
Helena's eyes widened and she gulped.
Barbara schooled her expression and continued. "It is the last meal of the day, we will be going to bed soon and I wouldn't want anything you ate to disturb your sleep. You had a rough night. I want you to sleep like the…dead."
The brunette sat back down. "I'm not that hungry after all."
"Then by all means, continue. You were comparing yourself to a cat…"
"Right." She thought for a second. "I'm like a cat…smart?"
"Absolutely."
"Loyal."
"To the bitter end."
"That's what I am afraid of," she whispered to herself, and then smiled up at Barbara, who sat with an amused grin of her own at Helena's admission.
"Continue." Barbara waved her hand.
"Agile."
"Oh, yes indeed. I do love your agility." She said wistfully, "That does come in handy for getting you into and out of tight places."
Helena's face took on a cocky smile and her blue eyes sparkled. Now, we're talking. I have her eating out of my hand. "Playful," she added.
"Absolutely." Barbara agreed. "It's one of the things I love most about you."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"OH, I love you too." She hesitated for a second as she sought more examples. Suddenly, a thought occurred. "And do you know what else cats love? Milk."
"Really?" Barbara asked, interested. Okay B, wait for it.
"Yes, we love milk."
Patience, Barbara, here it comes…
"So ergo, we LOVE cows."
And snap goes the trap.
"Oh crap!" Helena closed her eyes and hung her head, defeated. She slid off the couch onto the floor. Kneeling before Barbara, she leaned on the redhead's legs and put her head in Barbara's lap.
Barbara bit her lip trying not to laugh. She began to run her fingers through Helena's hair, soothingly.
"That didn't quite…" Helena started to say. She looked up, through shaggy bangs, her blue eyes apologetic. She put her head back on Barbara's lap.
"No, it didn't." Barbara squeezed Helena's neck playfully, once, before going back to running her fingers through the Helena's short hair. The older woman then began a gentle scratch of the back of the brunette's neck. She could almost hear her love purring.
"Barbara?" came a childlike voice.
"Yes, sweetheart."
"Will you marry me?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
The End