DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and earned nothing. Tollin/Robbins, the WB, and DC Comics do.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another of my odd experiments in writing. Started out planning to write one drabble and ended up with ten … about the time I recalled the old phrase about a picture and a thousand words. Hope you find it worth your time and energy. As always, feedback is welcome.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Snapshots
By ocean gazer
Head bowed, she stood on the balcony ledge. Her hands tugged her black leather duster, straightening it. The gesture was useless, she knew; her clothes would be mussed before the night ended. It was just habit – her version of a good luck charm.
Sighing softly, she raised her head, saw the sun finally drop below the edge of the skyscraper horizon. Her eyes swept over the city lights; her ears caught the hustle and bustle of nightlife stirring; her pulse raced with the familiar promise of impending danger.
She stepped off the edge, falling into open space.
It was time.
She smiled as she pressed the burglar against the alley wall. His groans – mingled fear and pain – were music to her ears. Luckily, he hadn't wet himself, as startled as he'd been when she caught him with his crowbar in the doorjamb.
She pulled him away from the bricks, held his wrists in one hand and used the other to fish out a pair of handcuffs. Trying not to sound bored at his lack of challenge, she gave him the "don't do this again" lecture and cuffed him to a dumpster handle.
One miscreant down.
A city full to go.
With a snap kick, she knocked the knife from the woman's hand. Closing the space between herself and her adversary, she caught the outstretched wrist, twisted it behind the woman's back, forced her to her knees.
She licked her lips, hormones appreciating the sinuous body accented by a tight red pantsuit. Her still-struggling foe was gorgeous – well, apart from being an attempted murderer. Remembering the near victim, she looked over and saw him running down the sidewalk. Figured. At least he was unharmed.
She cuffed the snarling, cursing woman to a bike rack.
Apparently, beauty really was only skin deep.
She grimaced at the sting of scraped flesh across her knuckles, but didn't hesitate. Her fist tightened and slammed again into her opponent's cheek. As the man fell bonelessly to the garbage-strewn street, she noted idly that she'd left a smear of her own blood on his grimy face.
She turned to check on his intended rape victim, looking to where the girl had cowered. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, she'd fled, not even bothering to say "thanks". Shaking her head, she bent to tie the man up.
She left him there for the police.
Time to save more ungrateful victims.
Her boots landed soundlessly on the rooftop, her breathing only slightly ragged from the long leap. She'd been patrolling for three hours now; time for a bit of a break before Dinah joined her. Over the comm unit in her ear she could hear Barbara's soft typing and steady breathing.
The familiar sounds reassured her, reminded her she wasn't alone. Her partner – her lover – watched over her while she watched over the city. Somehow, the woman's aural presence made the burden of protecting others seem a little lighter.
Closing her eyes, she tuned out every sound but Barbara.
She smiled.
She slammed open the convenience store door, Dinah hot on her heels. Breaking dramatically through the glass was her usual preference, but they'd lose the element of surprise. She stalked over to the robber, busy stuffing his pants pockets with cash.
Lifting him by the throat, she saw dilated eyes, smelled lingering smoke. He didn't struggle, just hung limp in her grasp, smiling vacantly, stoned out of his gourd. She dropped him, cuffed him to the chip display rack, instructed the bemused clerk to call the police.
Dinah stood beside her, giggling uncontrollably.
At least the job was never boring.
Glancing to her left, she double-checked her companion's safety. Thankfully, Dinah was well away from the fight, standing at the alley entrance and using telekinesis to protect two homeless men from the hoodlums who'd been beating them.
She kicked out with her foot – sending one thug crashing into a dumpster. Then, she smashed her palm into an unprotected nose – sending that man to the ground screaming. Fists and legs flying, she quickly, messily dispatched the remaining attackers.
A soft, warning voice in her ear. "Paramedics and police are only two blocks away."
She grabbed Dinah; they disappeared into the night.
She perched on a window ledge above Barhopper's Row, making sure her teammate was standing well behind her. While she tried not to overprotect the teen, she knew Dinah's fear of heights. Unfortunately, this was the best vantage point to watch for trouble brewing as the drunks stumbled out from the bars.
She glanced at her watch, then at the bare trickle of people staggering down the street. Barely an hour after last call on Friday night (rather, Saturday morning), and New Gotham's streets were all but deserted.
She stood, stretched stiff shoulders.
"C'mon Kid; let's call it a night."
Buoyed by a hot shower, she sat on a stool in the training room, watching Barbara bandage Dinah's scraped forearm. She tried not to chuckle at the teen's loquacious description of sweeps. Especially since the redhead was doing so well at listening patiently.
Swinging her feet casually, she let her mind wander; only coming back to the present when she heard the squeak of tennis shoes on waxed wood. She looked up in time to see Dinah shuffling out the door, presumably headed to bed.
Suddenly, unsurprisingly, she felt slender fingers probing at her injuries.
Her turn to play patient.
She padded quietly into the dark bedroom, after a snack of cookies and milk. Stealthily, blessing her meta-human sight, she crawled into bed and under the covers, careful not to wake her bedmate. She rolled onto one side, then felt a hand tugging her shirt.
She rolled the other direction, facing Barbara, and saw green eyes blinking sleepily at her, felt an arm drape over her. Reaching out, she embraced the woman, holding her close. A muffled, drowsy, "Love you, Helena," wafted to her ears.
She gently kissed Barbara's forehead. "Love you too."
Safe and warm, she drifted to sleep.
The End