Chapter Text
TW: Violence, blood, and guns.
Barbara
Cooking was never her strong point, but Barbara Gordon was determined to make her father proud with this dinner. Carefully measuring out the milk, getting eye level with the cup to ensure she had the perfect amount, dumping some out and adding it in to the point where she had been pouring milk for about 3 minutes as the chicken cooked in the oven. Her skills usually went as far as a burnt grilled cheese sandwich that was edible to her and her older brother but apparently nobody else. Microwave dinners were more her forte, practically living off of them her whole life. However, she was going to get it right this time. She has followed the recipe to a T so far. The internet rated this as the easiest chicken Alfredo recipe to make ever. Babs was going to make this perfect or die trying.
Barbara leaned down to be eye level with the pot as she went to pour the milk into the simmering pot of butter, garlic, salt, and pepper. It didn’t look right to her, but she reminded herself that this was where she usually went wrong. Something didn’t look right yet and she would panic, going overboard adding spices, flour, eggs, and other ingredients trying to compensate for the look. She stopped herself this time and just focused on adding the milk. Just be patient, Babs. It will be fine. Still she second guessed herself. Pasta sauce should be thick, not soupy or liquidy. No. We haven’t added everything yet. It will be good. Slowly she began to lift her hand to pour the milk into the pot.
Just as the milk hit her soon-to-be parmesan cheese sauce, there was a knock at the door. Jumping slightly as the sound knocked her out of her concentration, she dropped the measuring cup right into the bowl. Thankfully it didn’t shatter, however milk did splash back onto her stove top and her shirt. “Shit, shit, shit!” Babs cursed under her breath. How much poured out? How do I even measure it back in to compensate for what fell out? She debated in her head if she should even add more? It was just a little bit that fell out after all. Maybe it's fine! Or… is that what will ruin this? While debating what to do about the recipe, the person at the door knocked again.
“Coming!” She yelled and grabbed the towel off the oven to dry herself off. She turned the stove top down for the pasta so it didn’t boil over as she went to greet her guest at the door.
Jim Gordon was standing cheerfully at the door as it opened. Smiling broadly he immediately wrapped his daughter into a hug. “Hello, sweet pea!”
Babs returned the embrace. “You’re early!” Barbara let go of him and moved to the side to let her dad in.
“I got off early from the office. I figured I’d just come right over.”
“You’re good, I just thought you were my package,” she explained, feeling the need to clarify why it took her a minute to get over.
“Online shopping again?” He looked at her as he walked in, running into her glass coffee table as he spoke. “Oof!”
Babs shut the door. “Careful!” She thought it might be a problem. Babs had a habit of rearranging furniture too often, never complacent with how things were set up in her apartment. She found that she was watching tv more while eating than while she sat on her couch, so she decided to move her tv set to the dining area. However it did mean that she had to place her couch and table in a way that made sense. Facing it toward the door was not supposed to be a permanent solution, but one she would fix when she had the time and energy.
Jim Gordon was used to her habits, but still would run into things often in his daughter's apartment. His eyesight wasn’t what it used to be after all. “Oops. Sorry.” He picked up a wooden bat trinket that had fallen over when he bumped into the table. He absentmindedly put his jacket on the couch and walked around the kitchen counter to check on what his daughter was making.
“But yeah, new graphics card!” She attempted to dry herself off again. Dammit, I just got this shirt too! She grimaced at the fact that she picked a new yellow shirt to cook in. She just wanted to look good for tonight, just in case. Hopefully it dries okay and won’t stain.
Jim nodded, having no idea what a graphics card even was. He knew it had something to do with computers but past an iPhone 5 he has no idea how to work anything more advanced. According to his daughter, it made the computer work better and faster. However with how often she bought computer parts he figured she had to have a computer better than NASA by now. It made her happy though, and that’s all Jim cared about.
Jim inspected the food on the stove. “Looks good so far! Might be able to take the pizza guy off the speed dial tonight!”
Babs smiled at her dad’s teasing. She knew that he would eat anything she made no matter how bad it was. A true testament to her fathers love for her. “We’ll see. It still has 5 minutes to go!”
She grabbed her dads coat and walked to hang it up in the hall closet as her dad checked the sauce. He turned the pasta dial back so it was boiling again and started to add the cheese, not thinking about it. Jim Gordon may have been a busy man, but whenever he was home he delighted himself in cooking for his kids. Figuring out what she was making was easy based on the ingredients in front of him. Babs flinched however when she saw him add the cheese. “No-!” She went to stop him and realized it was too late. It was already melting into the mixture.
Jim stopped. “What? Did I mess it up?”
Babs bit her lip. “No, I just…” How much did he add? I can figure this out. I bought a brand new thing of cheese that was 12oz. If I pour the rest out into a cup… She began to calculate how much more she had to add to the recipe.
Jim laughed, realizing exactly what his daughter was doing. “My bad, sweetheart. I was just trying to help!” He backed off while he let his daughter do the math. He went to sit at the dining room table next to the kitchen, in front of the tv so he could still face his daughter. “Oh, I saw one of your friends from college today.”
“Hmmm?” Babs said, pulling out her food scale to measure the cheese.
Jim sat down with a grunt. He was getting old. “Yeah, at the grocery store. I was surprised to see her in town. It’s the one from Metropolis, Kara Danvers.”
Babs' heart skipped a beat. She of course knew Kara was in town. In fact, she had invited her over to dinner this same night. But due to Gotham being Gotham and Supergirl being who she is, Kara decided to take a rain check. Kara herself was just here because Clark was getting too much credit for her defeats recently. Kara loved when she could team up with Superman of course, but she wanted to be in a familiar place where she could kick bad guys' butts without her cousin helping her. Babs understood this all too well. Being pushed in the back of headline news for Nightwing or Batman to get credit for her capture of Riddler or Penguin. However she didn’t mind as much. More attention brought to her, the more likely her dad would learn she was Batgirl and that would be a whole thing. No, letting them take credit was fine.
“Oh, yeah! I invited her tonight for dinner too, but she wasn’t sure if she could come. I figured you wouldn’t mind if she did,” she said.
“Not at all! I like her a lot. Smart girl, good head on her shoulders. Besides, it's not often she’s in town anyway.”
Not as much as she could be. Babs thought bitterly. As far as her dad was aware she knew Kara from college, which was almost true. They met when they both were in college, but they didn’t go to the same one. Supergirl flew in one day to help Batgirl out with Poison Ivy and Livewire and the rest was history. Instant best friends-would have been inseparable if it wasn't for the whole “Kara-living-in-a-different-state” thing. Still, they would video call each other every free chance they had and on the weekends Kara would come in to watch movies with Babs until the sun rose. Babs would often fall asleep on the blonde superheroine, waking up to find that she had been tucked into bed with Kara’s cape draped over her like a blanket. Babs cherished every moment she spent with her. It was just so easy for them to hang out, almost as though they could read each other's mind. She never got tired of seeing Kara laugh at the same inside jokes they’ve had for years, mocking each other’s partners, or even helping out with homework from time to time.
There were few of those moments now. They made sure to video call at least once a week, but no more weekend visits from Kara anymore. So when Babs found out that she was coming into town this weekend, she canceled all of her plans including patrol to ensure she had a clear schedule for her. Well, all plans but having dinner with her dad. That was too important to cancel.
Babs took a few moments to ensure the right amount of cheese had been taken out. “I like her a lot too…” She didn’t realize she had said it out loud until she heard her dad chuckle. She flinched out of embarrassment. “I mean, she’s my best friend,” Barbara defended.
Jim smiled, “I know, sweetheart.”
Barbara was not a fan of her dad’s tone to her. It sounded more sing-songy than him simply stating a fact. He said it in a “I bet that's not all the feelings you have for her” way. And that made Babs angry. Not because he was wrong, but because he was right. Jim Gordon was a detective, the head detective in the most crime ridden city in the world just about. He’s easily able to pick up on subtle body language changes and vocal inflections. It's what made keeping Batgirl a secret so hard from him. Babs suspected he was aware of her secret identity and didn’t say anything, much in the way that he was aware of his daughter's sexuality and didn’t say anything.
Babs decided to focus on her recipe to prevent herself from blushing. She had measured out the cheese finally and added it to the pot, stirring it in until it melted. When she didn’t respond right away her dad spoke again. “Is that why you’re concerned with the dinner? Want to make it perfect in case she comes over?”
Babs chewed on her cheek, carefully choosing her next words. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to redeem my cooking skills.” The timer beeped for the chicken to be let out of the oven. Quickly she grabbed oven mitts and took it out to take the temperature. 171 degrees. A bit over but that should be okay. If it’s dry I’ll just add more cheese and nobody will know the difference… well.. It will be more edible if anything. Just as she was about to start cutting up the chicken, there was another knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat. For a fraction of a second she thought it might be Kara, but then she remembered she never got a confirmation text that she was coming tonight. “That’s my package!” She began to walk towards the door.
“Want me to grab it?” Her dad was already standing up to get the box.
Babs shooed him back down to his seat. “No, no! Sit! You’ve had a long day at work. I’ve got it!” Still facing him as she opened the door she said, “besides I haven’t done much today except-”
What is that? Barbara thought as she felt something press into her stomach. For a second she thought she had hit herself in the stomach with the doorknob as it was the only logical explanation to it. Instinctively, she went to grab what was poking her and felt something metal and cold. Finally she looked out the door. That face paint, green hair, and bright red lips. Babs wasn’t sure as to why the Joker was at her door wearing an awful Hawaiian shirt and phone pointed at her, but as soon as she recognized him she knew what was poking her. That’s a gu-
“Smile,” the clown said before she could finish her thought.
BANG!
Barbara was thrown back into the coffee table, glass shattering and the wooden frame cracking under the force. Adrenaline immediately rushed though the young redhead’s body causing her thoughts to become clouded, unclear. This wasn’t the same adrenaline rush that she got from leaping off buildings and punching bad guys in the face. This was her body trying to keep her from feeling the undeniable physical pain of being shot at point blank range by a silenced pistol.
“Barbara!” Jim screamed out, immediately getting out of his chair to rush to his daughters side.
Barbara did not hear him. Her mind was too busy trying to understand what was happening, how she ended up on the floor. In shock, she tried to get her feet up under her to stand up, get up off broken glass, but nothing was happening. Her legs weren’t cooperating with her to move. She went to roll over to get up, to move out of the way, to grab her cowl and fight Joker, but nothing. Nothing was working for her. Somehow, all she could do was lay there, unmoving as glass shards buried their way into her back.
“Ah, ah ah!” the clown mused. “Jimmy, you aren’t going nowhere! Boys, get him!”
On his cue, his two henchmen ran up to grab Jim. Jim however was not going to go down without a fight. He was the best damn commissioner the GCPD has ever had. When the first goon approached him, his fist was already raised aiming for not the face, but the throat. Knocking the wind out of them first would make it significantly easier to take them down. With a grunt, he threw his fist forward, connecting with the henchman’s jugular. Coughing, the henchman took a deep breath to collect himself to see that the old detective had already elbowed his colleague in the stomach. Jim pushed him down easily, while the first one grabbed his arms. He struggled to get out of henchman #1’s grip, settling to becoming dead weight in the man's arms until he couldn’t hold him up anymore. As soon as he readjusted his grip, Jim pulled his left arm free, throwing his body back to throw the goon off balance. Jim turned and got his other arm free. He raised his leg to kick him down and barely managed. Jim was not as young as he used to be.
Now both goons down, he ran once again to go to his daughters side. Joker was now kneeling down next to Barbara who’s arms slowly going to her open wound. Joker had already tied a gag around Barbara’s mouth to suppress her screams for when the pain would inevitably hit her. Jim had witnessed many people be shot. He needed to be by her side to comfort his daughter when she processed what happened. He needed to apply pressure to the wound. He needed to wrap it up tight so she’ll survive getting to a hospital where she can be patched up and back on her feet. He needed to get to his daughter.
Joker's hand went to his pocket where he pulled out a pink-camo printed pocket knife. Jim knew he could get to Babs before he found out what he was going to do with it. He would have succeeded had the second henchman not grab his leg and pulled him down. Jim did not react fast enough. His head slammed hard against the floor, glasses going flying. One of the henchmen sat on him, pulling his head up so he was looking at his daughter. Everything was so blurry. His head was spinning. Jim vaguely felt his legs being tied together and his hands being handcuffed to his own belt loops.
Joker laughed a gnarly guttural laugh. One you only have when you and your best friend just told a hilarious joke. Jim saw the clown's silhouette get up off the floor and walk towards him. “Here!” Joker said, “You’re gonna need these where you’re going!” Jim’s glasses were shoved haphazardly on his face. The clown's face came into a clear view within inches of him before he turned around and walked back to Barbara, knife still in his hand.
“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH HER!” Jim screamed in vain, trying to wiggle away from the henchmen. But he knew it was pointless. That would not stop him from trying to get to his daughter. Joker laughed even harder kneeling next to the redhead. Jim needed his daughter to know she wasn’t alone. “Barbara, you’re gonna be okay. Alright? Dad is here, okay?”
Barbara did not register what her dad said, only that it was his voice. “Daddy…?” She tried to say but it came out muffled. She turned her head towards him, the situation still not processing. Dad is on the floor. When did he fall? He’s bleeding from his head. I need to help him. She heard a hideous laugh. Even in her confused state she knew who it belonged to. Did Joker do that? Is that his scheme tonight? Something with dad? Where’s Batman? He needs to get Joker while I help dad. She watched someone hit the top of her dads head hard and her dad’s eyes closed, no longer struggling. Get to dad. He needs my help. Why am I not moving? Why are my arms cold? My Batgirl suit covers my arms.
Wait, Batgirl? I’m not in my Batgirl right now. I’m Barbara Gordon. In that moment of clarity, the reality of the situation hit her.
I’ve been shot. I’ve been shot by Joker in my own home.
Pain erupted from her abdomen. She felt glass bury into her back as blood covered the carpeted floor. She barely felt it soaking her shirt, only able to process the burning straight through her stomach and back. Stinging couldn’t begin to describe the pain. It was like a thousand needles were rotating through her, drilling their way through her intestines and spine. Barbara tried to scream but she couldn’t manage the breath, tongue catching on the handkerchief tied around her face. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
Joker laughed at her contoured face. “Oh, don’t worry, deary. The fun has just started.” Barbara became vaguely aware of the phone camera in Joker’s hands now pointed at her face. “This isn’t even the main event!” The clown screamed, raising his knife. As he plunged it down into her shoulder, Barbara Gordon was certain of one thing. She was going to die tonight.