What the Butler Saw, Part 1

Fandom: Birds of Prey
Pairing: Barbara/Helena
Rated: A.

Okay, odd one this. This is a kinda ‘five times’ idea I had for Spashley that I thought would work equally as well for the very short-lived but awesome TV show, Birds of Prey. [Seriously, look at the pics in that link and tell me that show doesn’t have a little something for everyone, including, for Lost Girl fans, young Rachel Skarsten.]

So, it’s two parts, already written, and I’m working on the Spashley version as well. Try it. If you don’t like it, then all you’ve wasted is a little time. It’s Barbara/Helena and it’s totes safe for work.

* * * * *

What the Butler Saw, Part 1

Alfred Pennyworth maintained his usual impassive face as the young woman before him gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. Having known her for over a decade since she was catapulted into his life by the death of her mother, he had seen that expression too many times to give in as easily as others apparently did.

“C’mon, Alfred, you know you want to,” Helena Kyle crooned.

“Miss Helena, I can assure you that is not the case.”

“It’ll take you all of ten minutes!” The young woman bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through her long lashes. “Please, Alfred. Please!”

He looked at her sternly. “Do you honestly believe I will crumble if you plead in that manner?”

Helena shrugged, flopping into one of the kitchen chairs. “Works with most people.”

“I am not most people, and I have known you too long. I am simply immune to your charms.” It wasn’t true; he would accede to her wishes eventually, but he did enjoy the sport of making her work for it.

“Yeah, but you’re the person I love the most.”

He scoffed directly at her. “We both know that not to be true, Miss Helena.” She flashed him a momentary look of intense anger that he had dared to go there. He merely raised his eyebrow at her. “Well?”

“Second most.” She folded her arms as she let her normal flippant grin reassert itself. “And you’re, like, a very close second on a list of only two.”

“Miss Dinah?”

She sighed heavily. “Okay, okay. A list of three, but you’re still second.”

“Your father and your brother?” he prompted.

“I do not love the Caped Crusader and his totally gay sidekick.”

“That is no way to talk about your brother,” he admonished.

“He wears tights!”

“And you should not use ‘gay’ as an insult anyway, young lady.”

“I know! Hello? Only actually gay person in this household here.” She shrugged. “Only openly gay person anyway.”

He heard it then, the bitterness at her only soft target being hit. And then he truly looked at her and saw that she was having one of those days, when she struggled with who she was and how she felt, and with her frustration that those feelings were not even overtly acknowledged, never mind reciprocated. So he removed his coat and hat, and started to pin his shirtsleeves back.

There was a hint of a smile playing around Helena’s mouth. She obviously thought she had won this round. “Definitely a close second,” she mumbled.

Alfred put his butler’s apron back on and set about making the four-course meal (three courses with two desserts) which would take him a lot longer than ten minutes to put together.

* * *

Ten years ago

The first time Alfred realised that the girl he now thought of indulgently as his adoptive granddaughter was gay, she was only fifteen years old.

At first, when he had seen her ferocious loyalty to Miss Barbara, he had assumed that it was because Helena had no-one else. After her mother’s murder, Helena Kyle had been placed in the care of Barbara Gordon, former Olympic gymnast by day, Batgirl by night, and unexpectedly close friend of Selina Kyla, AKA Catwoman. Helena’s father, Bruce Wayne, who had never known he even had a daughter, had fled the city, unable to cope with Selina Kyle being murdered before he had a chance to make amends with her. Before Selina’s body was even cold, Barbara—Batgirl—had been shot and paralysed by the Joker.

So, it was understandable that Alfred might have initially misconstrued the way that Miss Helena sat by Miss Barbara’s bedside in the hospital, day after day, night after night, neglecting her own physical and emotional needs to be with her guardian. Barbara was Helena’s whole world and he could understand that the girl would be terrified of losing her. Helena was incredibly passionate, and felt everything in extremes. She held nothing back, whether in joy or anger.

And then he came to the hospital one evening, not long before Barbara was finally due to be discharged. The physical therapy had been arduous, nine months of rehabilitating a devastating spinal cord injury. Helena had been with her every moment, never reacting to the way that Barbara lashed out at her in frustration. She constantly supported Barbara with smiles of encouragement and teasing comments that pushed the redhead to work harder.

As he walked into the room, he found Helena asleep in a chair next to the bed. She had always been lean, but she had dropped a good ten to fifteen pounds that she could barely afford to lose. Even napping, her face was pinched and gaunt; of the two women, the patient in the bed had the better pallor.

Waking Helena gently, Alfred asked quietly, “And how are we today?”

Nodding with her head to step outside, so as not to disrupt Barbara’s sleep, Helena mumbled, “Not so good.” She sighed. “She wants to give up, Alfred. On life. On life with me.”

The hospital room had a large glass window to the corridor, and, as they exited, Helena pulled back the curtain slightly, so that she would still be able to see Barbara once they were outside. His face may not have shown it—his restraint was too ingrained to give into open displays of affection easily—but his heart broke for the young woman in front of him. To lose her mother and to have her guardian contemplate suicide, as he knew Miss Barbara had done on several occasions, was more than a girl Helena’s age should have to bear.

“She will feel differently tomorrow,” he assured her.

“I don’t think she wants to come home.” Unshed tears welled behind Helena’s eyes. “At least, I don’t think she wants to come home to me.” She leaned her head against the window and stared at the sleeping Barbara.

Alfred laid a hand on her shoulder. “Miss Helena, she loves you very much and she needs you, even if she cannot see that just now. But you must know that being here all day, every day, is wearing you down. You must look to your own health and welfare. Or at least let me look to them. Please, come back to the Clocktower with me.” He tried what he thought would be his best approach. “For Miss Barbara’s sake, you need to be strong enough to care for her when she returns.”

“No.” A single word, spoken with quiet ferocity.

“Miss Helena,” he pleaded.

She turned around and pulled herself to her full height. For a slight young woman, even a meta-human with abilities she was still uncovering and refining, she could be incredibly imposing. “I love her, Alfred, and I will not leave her, so please do not ask me to.” She looked over her shoulder into the hospital room. “She might want to leave me, but I will never, ever leave her.”

He saw the way that Helena’s eyes raked over Barbara’s sleeping form and knew that he had seen that look before. His master, Bruce Wayne, had looked at Helena’s mother, Selina Kyle, with the same intensity and desperation.

Helena’s gaze was that of a lover.

He almost gasped at the thought. Not because he disapproved—he would never tell her to her face, but he rather hoped that Helena understood he would always love her unconditionally—but because Helena Kyle was even more like her father than she knew. Bruce Wayne had loved only once in his life, so deeply that it almost tore his soul apart, ruining him for any other relationships.

Just seeing Helena’s face, Alfred knew that she felt the same for Barbara as her father had for her mother. It was no teenage crush; the young girl was helplessly in love. He could only hope that Miss Barbara would realise this some day soon and, if necessary, let her down as gently as possible. Somehow, he doubted that day would come, and his heart ached anew for Helena.

* * *

Seven years ago

“I am a grown woman, Barbara!” Helena shouted. “Why the hell can’t you ever see that?” The sound of a door slamming immediately followed.

Alfred mentally counted to five, expecting Barbara Gordon to appear in the kitchen. Almost on cue, she rolled her wheelchair down the ramp from the living area, her face contorted with confusion.

“Why does she hate me so?” she wailed. “What am I doing wrong?”

Alfred sighed. As he had feared, Miss Barbara remained wantonly blind to the fact that Helena’s problems were not due to hatred, but rather the deep, passionate love which she would never express, but which she was incapable of hiding from everyone else but Barbara.

Their latest contretemps was over Helena’s dropping out of school. While he did not witness the argument first hand, he heard every word reverberating around the Clocktower. As ever, Miss Barbara insisted that she knew best.

“She is just testing your limits, Miss Barbara,” he said. “You know that she cares deeply what you think of her.”

“If she cared, she would listen to me.”

Alfred was glad that he had his back to the younger woman so that she didn’t see him roll his eyes. “She listens, but she also knows her own mind. She is an adult.”

In many ways, Helena was old beyond her years. She had been robbed of her childhood by tragedy and, when most eighteen-year-olds were out at Prom or sneaking into clubs, Helena was either training or patrolling the streets. But in other ways, she was a needy child, hungry for love and acceptance from the one person who mattered most to her.

“An adult wouldn’t stay out all night, partying with God only knows what kinds of boys, without letting her family know where she is. ”

On the nights when Helena disappeared, Barbara Gordon chose to believe that her young ward was out pursuing her hormonal urges. Alfred, however, witnessed Helena coming home at dawn, her face drawn and tight in the same way it had been that day at the hospital. While Barbara suspected a lover, Alfred knew that Helena chased across the rooftops of New Gotham, fleeing Barbara’s company whenever her feelings ran too high.

“She does all this to provoke me!” Barbara complained.

“Yes, she does,” he agreed. Helena’s behaviour was always designed to provoke a reaction: in the absence of love or at least jealousy, Helena drank in Barbara’s disappointment as proof of some emotion.

“She can’t even control herself in front of me. She was so angry that her eyes augmented. It’s happening more and more these days. It’s almost like she’s getting worse at it, rather than better. If she can’t control that in front of me, how can she control it when it’s important? How can I protect her if she can’t even protect herself?”

Alfred shook his head. Helena’s eyes did not take on their golden tint because of anger. Although he almost blushed at the thought, he knew that it was sexual desire that caused her primal side to assert itself.

“Yet, you rise to her provocation every time.” He put down the chopping knife and asked kindly, “Have you considered just listening to her and giving her a chance to explain properly?”

Barbara scoffed. “What’s to explain? She needs to finish school. It’s not negotiable.”

Alfred knew that he shouldn’t betray Helena’s confidence, but it was clear that Barbara was never going to hear what the young woman was trying to say. “She is bored in school, Miss Barbara. It does not challenge her. I believe that she would rather be taught by you and take her GED.” He didn’t add that Helena also believed that she would never live long enough to put anything she learned in school to any use but that, with Barbara’s help, she might keep her wits about her long enough to make a difference.

“Oh.” The redhead furrowed her brow. “Well, why didn’t she say that?”

Alfred smiled. “Did you let her?”

Barbara’s head slumped to the table, resting on her hands. “Why is raising a child so hard?”

“Because she is not a child, and she hasn’t been for a long time. She just wants you to accept that and meet her as an equal.”

“But I’m the parent in this situation.”

“No, you’re not. Selina Kyle raised a perfectly wonderful young woman, who is bright, intelligent, and speaks three languages. Our job has been rounding off the edges to help her fulfil her, well, destiny, for want of a better expression.” He felt the need to prod Barbara further. “She neither needs nor wants a second mother. She needs a friend and a confidante who will support and challenge her, the way she does you.” He shook his head. “And I have said enough. It is not my place.”

Barbara looked up and extended her hand to Alfred, squeezing it lightly. “You’re our family, too, Alfred. I couldn’t have done this without you. And I do value your opinion. She just makes me so mad that I cannot see or think straight.”

“Indeed.” He pursed his lips in amusement at Barbara’s choice of words. Miss Helena did not ‘think straight’ around Barbara, either.

Withdrawing from Barbara’s hand, he looked up at the doorway, where a recalcitrant Helena was waiting patiently, biting her lip. The longing with which she always regarded Barbara was there on her face, but he could also read her worry that she might have gone too far this time. Alfred tried to convey with his eyes that everything would be all right.

Barbara stiffened, as she felt Helena’s gaze on her, and she settled her face into a mask of calm as she turned around. Helena dashed to her side, dropping to her knees in front of Barbara and begging forgiveness, her eyes heavy and pained.

“God, I’m so sorry, Barbara. I don’t wanna fight about this. All I want to do is make you proud of me, you know. You’re right. I’ll go back and finish out the school year, graduate for you. I don’t want to be a failure.” The brunette buried her face in Barbara’s lap, unable to maintain eye contact.

Barbara looked at Alfred, aghast. Helena had not sought out physical comfort like this since the months after Barbara had left the hospital, when it was not uncommon for the two of them to share a bed, helping to chase each other’s demons away. As Helena’s love for Barbara had matured, she had tried to keep an appropriate physical distance to maintain her sanity against the strength of her overwhelming need.

Again, Alfred found himself communicating with his eyes that everything would be okay, this time to the uncertain woman in the wheelchair.

Barbara tentatively reached down to run her fingers through Helena’s short, almost spiky hair, muttering soothing noises and half-words. As Helena let out a soft purr, so quietly that Alfred wasn’t even sure that Barbara heard it, he noticed that Barbara herself seemed at peace for the first time in many months.

He also noted the way she tenderly cradled Helena’s head and stroked the fine hairs at the back of her neck. The action was not, no matter what Barbara Gordon wanted to tell herself, motherly in any way. The husky tone with which she said, “You could never be a failure to me, my beautiful, lovely girl,” confirmed that she might finally be seeing Helena as a woman, not a child.

* * *

Four years ago

“You think she’ll approve?” Helena asked, biting her lip.

It was Helena’s twenty-first birthday and she had decided the previous week that she could no longer sit around all day, living off her inheritance, hoping that Barbara would start to take her seriously. A person who wanted to be taken seriously had to take themselves seriously. And that meant moving out, getting a job, and proving that, like Barbara, she could hold down a regular life as well as her second career as a crime fighter.

Alfred looked at her hopeful face and couldn’t bring himself to say what was really on his mind: namely, that Helena’s mentor would most assuredly not approve of having to share her protégé with the rest of the world, but that she would pretend to, just so that she didn’t have to think about what her gut feelings actually meant.

“I think,” he said, “that it shows a great maturity and that anyone should be proud of you for demonstrating your independence.”

Helena beamed under his praise, but he knew that only Miss Barbara’s opinion would truly matter.

He was, in fact, very proud of the woman that Helena had become. She was kind and thoughtful, brave and loyal, trustworthy almost to a fault. She would, without a doubt, lay down her life to protect an innocent. For Barbara, there was no limit to the sacrifices Helena would be prepared to make, had already made. That she tried to hide all of this under a veneer of amused cynicism did not alter the truth. While Barbara bemoaned the fact that Helena refused to wear an actual mask out on the street when she was patrolling as The Huntress, she still didn’t see that the young woman wore a mask with her every day.

Oh, Helena acted both tough and flippant, with her often-scandalous leather outfits, and her incorrigible flirting with everyone around her, but she was still the quiet, intense girl who longed for Barbara to do nothing more than love her.

“Besides,” Helena joked, already affixing that metaphorical mask to steel herself against Barbara’s expected disappointment, “getting a place of my own will allow me to get a little something-something without having to do the walk of shame in here every morning, worrying that you’ll fink me out to the warden.”

Alfred did not challenge her, even though he did not believe any of Helena’s claims about her romantic conquests.

As Barbara Gordon rolled her wheelchair into the kitchen, Alfred turned away from Helena, giving her a supportive nod, and started preparing Helena’s snack.

“The birthday girl has requested an afternoon snack of chocolate chip pancakes, Miss Barbara. May I interest you in some?”

“Someone’s having a birthday?” Barbara smirked, as she manoeuvred herself next to Helena. “That must be why I found these on the doorstep when I came home from school.” She reached behind herself and pulled out a card and a gift box, sliding them across the table. Alfred didn’t miss that Helena’s hand paused above the card and present, waiting for Barbara’s approval.

“For me?” the brunette asked.

“Unless you know someone else who’s having a birthday today.” Barbara’s eyes had softened, but she seemed to be just as nervous as Helena.

With her usual enthusiasm, Helena ripped open the card, which featured a picture of a cat wearing a birthday hat and a humorous message about everything now being legal. She grinned and propped it on the kitchen table. More carefully, she peeled back the wrapping paper from the gift box. She looked into Barbara’s eyes before she opened it, searching for something. Barbara blushed and looked away.

“Go on, open it,” the redhead urged.

Helena lifted the lid off the box and her whole face lit up as she saw that it was a beautiful necklace and earring set, crafted in silver and with dark sapphires that matched the almost violet colour of Helena’s eyes.

“God, Barbara, they’re so beautiful.” She picked up the necklace and let the light catch on the gemstone, staring at it in wonder and delight.

“And, even better than that, they’re a communication system,” Barbara said.

As Helena’s face turned from sheer joy to suspicious caution, Alfred wanted to slap both his own forehead and the back of Barbara’s head. Had she really turned a beautiful gift into office supplies?

“What?” Helena asked.

“The earrings have speakers in them and your meta-enhanced hearing will be able to pick up any sound. Humans won’t hear anything, though, even if they’re right up close to you. The pendant,” Barbara leaned forward and traced its outline, “hides a transmitter. It’ll send the signal back here. I’ll be able to talk to you while you’re out on sweeps from now on.” Barbara was so pleased with her own ingenuity that she didn’t even notice that Helena looked like she had been sucker-punched.

“Thoughtful and practical,” Helena commented flatly. She glanced over to Alfred and he gave a minute shake of his head. “They’re lovely, Barbara. Thank you.” She reached out and placed her hand over Barbara’s. “I’d better go get changed for dinner.” She picked up her card and gift box and stood up from the table.

“What about your pancakes?” Barbara called after her. Helena didn’t turn or reply.

Alfred hadn’t needed to ask, because he already knew that Miss Helena had lost her appetite.

“Do you think she’ll like her other surprise?” Barbara asked once Helena was out of earshot. She had arranged for Dick Grayson, Helena’s adoptive brother, to meet them at the restaurant.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it as much as the gift,” he deadpanned. Dick had been Barbara’s occasional lover in the past and jealousy ate away at Helena whenever he was around. Again, it was not Alfred’s place to say that. “She wants to speak to you anyway.”

“What about?” Barbara’s interest was piqued.

“She should tell you herself.”

“I’ll go speak to her now, then.”

How could anyone be so blind as to the emotional chaos that they caused, Alfred wondered. “Oh, I don’t think you should disturb her when she’s dressing, Miss Barbara. You know how she hates anything to come between her and fashion. I am sure she will tell you in her own time.”

“Well, I’ll go get ready for this evening as well.”

“Very good, Miss Barbara.”

*

Alfred was waiting with a tray of drinks when the three members of the birthday party returned from Helena’s favourite Italian restaurant. Miss Barbara and Master Dick were first to enter the living space. Dick was pushing Barbara’s wheelchair, something that she very rarely allowed anyone else to do for her. Helena trailed behind, her face dark and a little sad.

“I think that would be a marvellous idea,” Barbara was saying. The look on Helena’s face indicated that she did not agree with whatever had been suggested.

“Champagne?” Alfred said.

“You’re a good man, Alfred,” Dick said, helping himself to two glasses for himself and Barbara. He looked handsome in a dark grey suit with a silver silk tie, Alfred had to admit.

The women were equally well-turned-out. Barbara was wearing her favourite outfit, a long dark green dress, while Helena had chosen a black cocktail dress which seemed to both move sinuously against her and yet cling to her at the same time. She was not, however, wearing her new jewellery. Alfred recognised her necklace and earrings as having belonged to her mother.

“Any chance of something a little stronger, Alfred?” Helena asked, her eyes downcast, so that she did not have to watch Dick flirting shamelessly and aggressively with Barbara.

“Of course, Miss Helena.” He was not surprised when she followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table. It seemed like every important conversation they ever had took place in there. “What would you like to drink?”

“Tequila, straight up. Leave the bottle.” She phrased it as a joke, but he doubted the humour in the statement. He placed both bottle and glass in front of her. “Don’t hover, Alfred. Sit with me and have a birthday drink.”

“Perhaps a small sherry.” He poured her first shot and watched as she tossed it back. He fixed himself a drink and then sat next to her, sipping at his drink while he waited for her to speak.

“Twenty-one, huh?” she said, staring into her glass as she poured herself another. “Best years of my life, right?”

“So they say.” She looked miserable and he doubted that her birthday meal had gone as she would have liked.

“You know, don’t you, Alfred?”

“Know what, Miss Helena?” He knew a great many things, and didn’t want to guess the wrong one.

“That I’m gay.”

“Yes, I do.” He raised his hand to touch her shoulder, but pulled it back. Being gay was not something for which she needed comfort.

She was still staring pointedly at her glass. “You’ve never said anything.”

“I wasn’t aware that it required a comment.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“It is who you are, and I happen to think you are quite splendid.”

“And the rest?” Helena looked straight at him. “Her, how I feel, everything?”

“I know.” He finally placed a hand on her forearm. That was something for which she did need comfort. “One cannot help what the heart wants, Miss.”

Helena evaded his touch and took another drink. “She wants him, my so-called brother.”

“They have been friends a very long time, Miss Helena.”

“Yeah, friends.” She threw back another shot of tequila, her fourth in as many minutes. With her meta abilities, he knew that she could finish off the entire bottle and barely feel even a buzz. “He wants more than that. So does she.” She poured another drink, filled it so close to the brim that she spilled some as she lifted it to her lips. “I might as well not have been there.”

“She loves you very much.” It was true, even if Miss Barbara couldn’t show it in a way that Helena could understand.

“As a child, a partner in crime fighting. I don’t even think she sees me as a friend, just a junior employee.”

“Did you tell her about your new job?” he asked, knowing that there was nothing he could say to refute the allegation.

“Nah. There was never a good moment.” Yet another drink passed her lips. “The Bat kids were too busy telling me all about the good old days.”

Barbara and Dick entered the kitchen, talking and laughing.

“What’s going on in here?” Barbara asked. Her voice was a little slurred, the wine with dinner and the champagne thereafter starting to affect her.

Helena’s face immediately changed, a wide, lascivious grin appearing to chase away the brooding sadness. She would never let Barbara see her hurt.

“I was trying to persuade Alfred to do body shots with me, but he says lime and salt make him gag.” She spun around to stare at Barbara in clear challenge. The look on her eyes was definitely sexual. “What about you, Babs? You up for a few body shots?” Helena motioned to her own body with her hands. “All this could be yours.”

Barbara’s face showed her clear shock at the suggestion and, as she paused before answering, a little extra colour suffused her cheeks and she unconsciously mirrored Helena’s gesture of biting her lower lip. Alfred couldn’t help but think that she was mentally picturing what such an action would entail.

“More champagne, I think!” she announced, a little too brightly after a pause that was just a little too long.

“Of course, Miss Barbara,” Alfred replied, rising from his seat and clearing away his own drink.

“I’m fine with my tequila, thanks.” Helena carelessly poured another shot, liquid spilling onto the table. As she finished it, she slammed the glass down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes never left Barbara’s and she twisted her mouth into a sardonic smile. “You’re sure I can’t tempt you?”

“I think champagne’s more Barbara’s style,” Dick said, his light tone intended to lessen the sudden tension in the room.

Helena didn’t even acknowledge that he had spoken. “Cat got your tongue, Barbara?”

“Helena,” she murmured in a warning tone.

“That’s not an answer. You don’t wanna play with me? Not even on my birthday? Too old for a little fun, Red?”

Everyone knew that Barbara Gordon rarely backed down from a challenge. She picked up the shot glass from the table and held it out towards Helena. “Sure, I’ll drink with you.”

Helena nodded, her grin growing a little more easy. She reached to the centre of the table for the salt cellar. “Where’d you want the salt?”

Barbara didn’t break eye contact with Helena. She merely licked the back of her own hand and took the salt from Helena, sprinkling it on the wet skin.

Raising the shot glass, she toasted, “Happy Birthday, Helena.” Then she licked her hand slowly and threw back the tequila. With a shiver, she replaced the glass on the table.

All Helena said was, “You forgot the lime.”

Barbara shrugged. “Alfred?”

He sighed. He could not see a good end to this stand-off, but he fetched a lime from the refrigerator and chopped it into wedges. No-one spoke for the minute or so it took for him to prepare the fruit and put it on a plate. Helena poured another shot as he placed the plate on the table.

Barbara reached out and grabbed Helena’s wrist. Pulling the hand to her mouth, Barbara licked the back of the brunette’s hand and sprinkled salt on it.

From the tension in Helena’s shoulders, Alfred could tell that she was struggling not to let the desire cause her eyes to turn golden. He glanced over at Dick, trying to read the situation from his face. If anything, though, Dick was trying not to watch, taking great interest in his own champagne.

Slowly, Barbara licked the salt from Helena’s hand, downed her shot and then picked up a slice of lime, biting into the fruit. Only when she dropped it back on the plate did she let go of Helena’s wrist.

“Satisfied?” the redhead asked.

“I never knew you had it in you,” Helena said quietly.

Another long pause followed in which it felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath, both men watching the women stare each other down.

Finally, Helena stepped back and announced, “I think might go to a club, now that it’s finally legal.” She smiled condescendingly at Dick. “Think you can take care of things without me?”

“I’m sure I can.” Dick was obviously puzzled as to exactly what she meant. Alfred wasn’t sure either.

“So, don’t wait up,” she said to Barbara. “I’ll stay at my place.” She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Barbara’s cheek which, at least to Alfred, lasted a little longer than usual. “Thanks for a great birthday, Barbara.”

As Helena strode out, Barbara said nothing. It was only after the unmistakeable sound of the elevator doors closing was heard that she finally murmured, “Wait. She has her own place?”

* * * * *

Next up: Part 2 [A]

10 Comments

  1. Posted 12 April 2013 at 3.18am | Permalink

    Oh sweet mother of god. I’m not ashamed of begging. Please, please give us more of this! Do I have to kill someone? ‘Cause I’ll do it in a heartbeat.

  2. Angela
    Posted 12 April 2013 at 2.19pm | Permalink

    I’m in love!
    Please please please can we have more?

  3. Devje
    Posted 12 April 2013 at 7.57pm | Permalink

    Birds of Prey was the first fanfic I ever read. Don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me to write some before.

    Anyway, the second and final part will be posted on Monday.

  4. SmurfyMc
    Posted 13 April 2013 at 2.07am | Permalink

    This, I mean, this!!! I haven’t watched this show in forever, but I remember loving it. But this fic, MY GOD! Amazing. I love how it’s told from Alfred’s point of view. I actually kind of want to cry right now, I’m so sad for Helena. You should definitely write more Bird’s of Prey fics, should you so desire. I mean, I’ll read anything of yours, and love every second of it, but I’ve fallen in love with these characters already. You are wonderful, Dev.

  5. tongue-tied
    Posted 14 April 2013 at 9.21am | Permalink

    Wow, inspired to go find out more about these Birds of Prey girls now. And fantastic writing as always, will definitely be looking out for more fics like this!

  6. Gis
    Posted 14 April 2013 at 2.31pm | Permalink

    As always, beautifully written. I had never heard of Birds of Prey, just looked them up and sounds very interesting. Once again, thank you for sharing!

  7. tongue-tied
    Posted 15 April 2013 at 9.35pm | Permalink

    Please please please post part II?

  8. tongue-tied
    Posted 15 April 2013 at 9.38pm | Permalink

    Ah, just read your @devandclom tweet. Ahh. I’ll, *ahem* I’ll be going now…

  9. cosmic
    Posted 25 April 2013 at 8.17pm | Permalink

    Wow, I was actually just thinking about this show and I saw this. Awesome. I can’t wait to read part 2.

  10. lol
    Posted 3 June 2013 at 12.41am | Permalink

    I’M TOTALLY GOING CRAZY OVER HERE. I REALLY REALLY REALLY ENJOYED IT!!!!

    Especially because i just recently watched the dark night rises and totally loved the chemistry between Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. Loved how you referred to them and how perceptive Alfred has always been :) thanks for this, totally looking forward to your other fics especially spashley ones ;)

Post a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s