Part One

"I'm staying."

Dick had been conducting the conversation with his back turned to Barbara, his eyes and hands occupied with selecting those items from his closet which he imagined he'd require most upon leaving Wayne Manor. But she had all his attention, now.

Barbara looked him dead in the eye as she went on.

"I can't think of a single good reason why you should leave. And I sure as hell can't think of any good reasons why _I_ should leave, either."

"Dammit, Barbara . . ." Dick furiously yanked a pair of slacks from its hanger and smushed it into a corner of his suitcase, which lay on his bed, hurriedly - and badly - packed. The case had been a high school graduation gift from Bruce. He remembered the first time he'd packed it, had folded his warm woolen pants and knit angora sweaters, anxious to go to college and grow into a man. The smooth black curve of the suitcase reminded him of Bruce's strength and the obsidian Kevlar that wrapped all around it; but only for a moment.

So, Barbara couldn't think of any good reasons for either of them to leave. Even after Bruce had put her life at risk. Even after she'd heard how Bruce had used him, manipulated him - manipulated them both. Never mind that Bruce had always twisted things around, made him feel as though he had wanted this life. Never mind that right alongside Bruce's mission to protect the innocent and secure safety for the citizens of Gotham flowed a . . . a twisting river of darkness. Of course.

It was still strange to admit it to himself, that Bruce's mind was a mass of shadows over shadows. That which obscured was itself obscured by layers of tragedy stacked higher than the walls of Arkham. And now Barbara was standing there, waiting for one good reason why she should leave Gotham behind in order to be with him instead of Bruce. Dick struggled to come up with one, until the real answer struck him. If Barbara loved him - really, truly loved him - she wouldn't need a reason to go be with him.

Just the promise of being together would be reason enough to leave Bruce, and his tortured world, far behind. These considerations swirled long and slow through Dick's brain. He had no perception of how long Barbara had been waiting when she finally turned on her heel and let the door to Dick's chamber slam shut.

Part Two

She sailed through the air, her body lean and lethal as an arrow. At the end of the trajectory, she planted her feet about half a yard away from her target and threw herself into a roundhouse kick, sending a chunk of her foe tumbling to the ground. She followed its lead, throwing herself to the ground in order to avoid a laser beam aimed at the top of her head.

A robot zoomed towards her, its arms ending in jagged, spinning blades. She jumped straight up, grabbed onto a flagpole for leverage, and kicked the machine squarely in its robotic head. It flew all to pieces.

"End simulation."

Barbara released the pole and landed in a crouch. She knew very well the deep voice that had just ended her warm-up. Bruce crouched down in front of her, and in a flash his hands were gripping her shoulders and pushing her to the ground. She burst into laughter as his fingers ran over her sides, poking into her ribs and the creases beneath her breasts. She wriggled and squirmed and kicked beneath him, but the fingers continued to explore her body, diving into her armpits, brushing between her thighs. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed with all her strength, but he was far too massive and she might as well have been shoving at a brick wall.

She could barely think straight, so eventually, she submitted to his fingers. "It just makes no sense to fight Bruce," was the last coherent thought to go through her head before she gave herself over completely to the overwhelming sensations and her own hysterical laughter.

She had been suffocating for fifteen seconds when Bruce finally ended his gentle assault and rolled off of her, his back thudding onto the foam mat.

"Barbara?"

"Yes?"

Bruce stood up and gazed down at her, her red hair radiating from her like, well, like a lake of blood issuing from a head wound. Her mouth was twisted and open--half grinning, half gasping for oxygen.

"You have to be prepared for all eventualities. What if you were under the effects of the Joker's laughing gas? Would you just give in? Laugh away while innocents suffered and died because you lacked self-control? Or would you fight it? Refuse to lose control?"

The smile was gone from Barbara's lips. She got up on her feet and drew herself to full height--still a fair bit shorter than Bruce, but impressive, nonetheless. He raised his eyebrow at her, nodded slightly, and quit the room.

"Bruce, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she ran down the hall to catch up with him.

Again, he simply raised one brow in answer.

"Don't you do it. Don't you fucking dare to condescend to me, Bruce. I didn't stay here to have you treat me like a child."

"Quiet."

Bruce grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. Barbara remained defiant. "Anyway, you sure as hell don't touch me like I'm a child. So don't talk to me like it, either."

"What happens in our bed," he whispered into her ear, holding her a little more tightly, "is between a man and a beautiful, intelligent, mature woman."

Barbara was pulling away from him, this time with a much more genuine desire to escape than she had felt in the gym. Bruce continued. "And what happens the rest of the time, is between an apt pupil," he pulled her even closer, "and her instructor."

Barbara jerked away from him, and this time he released his grasp. She backed away from him, steeling herself, refusing to be intimidated.

"Don't you fucking touch me."

Part Three:

"I look at her face and I see Dick's eyes looking back." Leslie Thompkins made a soft, clucking sound low in her throat and tapped her notepad.

"What do you think those dreams mean, Bruce?"

"Maybe I'm overly focused on what Barbara represents to me as a crimefighting partner, and I've been neglecting her role as a romantic partner."

She sighed. "Bruce, are you at all familiar with the expression, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?'"

Part Four

Bludhaven was a cold place. Even in the middle of the summer, with the sun baking the top of her head and sweat streaming down her neck, a chill ran straight through Barbara's lungs. She was standing outside of Dick's warehouse, waiting for him to answer the door. She could hear children running after an ice cream truck just a little further down the block. Ants marched along the sidewalk beside her, carrying dinner on their backs. Christ, it was freezing.

She heard the metallic slide of Dick unlatching the thick door from the inside. One ice blue eye peered out from the darkness--he'd opened the door only a few inches, prepared to guard his abode against intruders.

"Barbara?" the door swung wide open and Dick pulled Barbara close to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in the smell of his clean, black hair. They remained that way for a few moments until Dick motioned Barbara toward the couch and pushed the door closed.

"So, why did you come?" Dick sat down on the sofa next to Barbara.

He heard her slow, deep breaths and how she looked a million miles away while she thought and formulated an answer.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" she quietly replied.

"How's Batman?"

"Bruce is alright. There's hardly ever any shortage of freaks running around, keeping him busy. Lucius is taking on an even bigger role at Wayne Enterprises, so that gives him a little more time to focus on the bad guys. Other than that, things are pretty much the same."

"Alfred?"

"Alfred has no idea what to do with all the free time he's got now that he's not doing your laundry!"

Dick laughed loudly at this and Barbara joined him. He reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

"Bruce loves you a lot, Barbara."
"Oh? How can you tell?"

"I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of someone who is being loved by Bruce Wayne."

"Oh."
"How do you feel?"
"I'm doing alright."

Barbara noticed how closely Dick was sitting to her. His free hand moved down to her thigh and slid up to her waist, rubbing against her skin. She felt his breath hot against her forehead and didn't resist when he lifted her legs up onto the black leather sofa and lowered his body down onto hers.

"I've missed you, Barbara."

She nodded her head and wrapped her arms around him, sensing the broadness of his back beneath her fingers. He pressed his lips against her forehead, against her nose, against her cheeks. He kissed her gently on her mouth and caressed her hair. A low and quiet moan slipped from her throat.

"I love you," he whispered softly.
"I love you, too, Dick."

He slid his hand down from her head, delicately touched her throat, and rubbed her breast beneath her t-shirt. He landed on the floor with a resounding thud.

"Dick, I'm so sorry, I--" Barbara scrambled up off the couch, straightened her clothes and made a beeline toward the door.

"Barbara, no, don't go!" Dick ran after her. "Barbara, no!" He grabbed her wrist just as she was about to grab the doorknob.

"I need this, Barbara."
"No!" She broke away and hurried out the door.
"Is he really so much better?"
She moved faster.

"Hey, give Bruce a kiss for me!" he called out after her. He watched her run down the block until she rounded the corner.

Part Five

Barbara guessed that subconsciously, she'd expected Bruce would figure out somehow where she had gone. At any rate, she was not at all surprised to find him waiting for her in the doorway when she walked up to the mansion. His arms were crossed and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

Barbara knew better than to really be afraid of him--but not because she was naive enough to think he would never hurt her. He was, after all, just a man, and a relatively unstable one at that. Rather, she knew that in order to maintain her own sense of self-respect and stand up to him when he needed standing up to, and just in order to sleep at night while nestled precariously in his massive arms, she simply had to, well, choose not to fear him.

She was still a few feet away from him when she suddenly noticed his sapphire eyes were glittering in the dark; moonlight struck the tears welling there and illuminated them.

Part Six

Two hours. Thirty-seven minutes. And fifteen seconds. This was how long Barbara had lain in bed beside him. She knew full well that he was awake. And she was certain that he knew that she knew. And even that he knew that she knew that he knew that she knew. Barbara could not remember a single time Bruce had lain in bed this long without sliding over to her side, or reaching out for her to come over to his.

She could hear crickets outside.

Three hours. Two minutes. And forty-eight seconds. And Barbara was certain that he was still awake. Two more minutes ticked by and then she heard his voice, ragged and quiet. "Did he touch you?"

"Yes, Bruce," she whispered.

One more hour. Seventeen more minutes. A second.

"Tell me where he touched you."
"He touched my thigh." She felt a large hand rest on her leg.

"He kissed my face. He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks. He kissed me on the lips."

Noiselessly, Bruce moved closer to her. He planted soft kisses on her face and her mouth, and waited.

"Dick, uh . . . He touched my, uh."

Bruce was on top of her now. He pulled back and rested on his knees long enough to pull her nightshirt over her head and toss it on the ground. He lowered himself back down and lazily kneaded her right breast while caressing her left ear with his tongue. If up until that moment Barbara had been wary and apprehensive, those thoughts were now completely gone. Further down, she felt his penis harden and grow. He leaned back again and gently spread her thighs a little wider. He guided the head of his penis into her body. She bit her bottom lip and stifled her moans as he slowly pushed himself inside her and began to thrust in long, slow strokes.

Eleven minutes. Twenty-nine seconds.

And he felt her body tense around his flesh and he knew he didn't have to hold back any longer. Barbara clung to him as she writhed and screamed. And he felt a draught of his essence flow out of him and into her body. She kissed him.

Eight more minutes. Seven more seconds.

Barbara was fast asleep in Bruce's arms. He listened to her breathing and counted up the stars visible through the window behind her.

Part Seven

"Out?"
"Out."
"You're going out."
"Yes, Bruce."

Lunch had been served and eaten and now Barbara felt particularly inspired to take a stroll through Gotham. Soak up the sun, maybe do a little shopping.

"You're going out, but you won't tell me where."

"There is no 'where,' Bruce. I'm just going out, that's all."

"Well, if you just happen to see Nightwing while you're 'out,' Barbara," Bruce spat out bitterly, oblivious of the anger balled up inside Barbara's clenched fists, "You just give him a big ol' kiss for me, why don't you?"

"Yeah, sure thing."

*End.*