RATING: PG/PG13. Just two people talking. A few bad words.

CONTINUITY and SPOILERS: This is an Alternative Universe as it’s a blend of the Birds of Prey television show and a variety of DC comic books, particularity The Killing Joke and the Batman titles between 1983 and 1991. There will be spoilers for all 13 episodes of the series once I’ve seen them all.

CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: BG wrote this BoP story called Landslide with a short interaction between Commissioner Gordon and Helena. My imagination just ran with it. Warped and Nik suggested a sequel.

STORY SPECIFIC NOTES: The James Gordon of the story is a blend of the various versions from the DC universe plus whatever hints may have been thrown from the show (precious few, if memory serves).

FEEDBACK, COMMENTS AND FLAMES: Email at maven369@sympatico.ca

“Pong.”

“You mean ‘ping’.”

“Pong.”

“Stupid machine.”

With a sigh James Gordon placed his book on the table beside him and went to examine the control panel of the security system. With a frown he tapped the light labeled ‘garage’.

“Ah,” he said in satisfaction as the light blinked out and the speaker went silent. “Stupid machine.”

“Dad?”

“No one ever phones ahead,” Gordon muttered, as he headed to the front foyer, snapping on the light that illuminated the short corridor to the garage. “Evening, Barbara.”

“I must have told you a million times. Not my birthday, not your birthday, not the day you retired. What if I’d been some hitman?”

“You know if you called ahead or came to the front door I’d have been perfectly safe.”

“No, you’d still be vulnerable. I just wouldn’t know about it.”

Sighing Gordon moved to the magic X. Far enough that she didn’t have to crane up to look at him; close enough to make his words intimate.

“You didn’t come to argue, Barbara.”

“Not ‘did you come to argue’?” she asked, giving the chair a slight nudge backward.

“Barbara, you came for something. The arguing is just avoidance. If you want to goad me into arguing enough to either kick you out or to give you an excuse to storm out we can just say goodnight now.”

The chair rocked back and forth as her hands played with the wheels. “Pysch 101, Dad?”

“It’s a new century, Barbara. A cop is more than just a badge and a gun. I’ve sat in a few psychology sessions with the rookies.”

“You’re right. Sorry, Dad. But that password…”

“Will be changed tonight. Because you’ll have to walk me through it again.”

She sighed and smiled.

“Now, if you’ve quite finished testing my security system would you like to come into the study? Brandy, fire and I’ll keep the cigars in the humidor.”

“You spoil me, Dad.”

“Only the best for my little girl,” Gordon said fondly, standing aside to allow Barbara to precede him. And, as always, taking the opportunity to glare his hatred at the chair. When she was watching the chair became invisible to him. Or valued for the tool it was that allowed her mobility and independence. But when she wasn’t watching…

“If I put a ramp on the front porch would you come by more often?“ he asked as he settled back into his chair and she took her normal position by the fire.

“Don’t do that. It would stick out like a sore thumb. Totally ruin the line of the house,” besides, she muttered. “I hate ramps.”

“You have ramps all over the clock tower.”

Barbara shrugged. “They’ve been there since I moved in. They match the décor. They don’t scream ‘cripple lives here’.”

“Or at least ‘mobility challenged person visits here one in a blue moon’,” Gordon countered.

“So politically correct, Dad.”

“Don’t mock me,” he chided good naturedly.

“Not even about the book you’re reading?”

“Library reading group's choice, not mine. Now stop it. It’s been over a year since you broke in through the garage and three months since we had lunch. What’s up?”

“Well, you know. Say hi. Bring you up to speed in things.”

“Dinah doing well at school? You’ve not strangled any faculty or students?”

“Few toes run over, no deaths,” she replied, staring around the study to find something other than Gordon to look at. “Dinah's doing well. It’s about my life. My umm, social life. Personal life.”

“Yes?”

“I’m seeing someone. Well, maybe seeing someone. About to start seeing someone.”

Gordon took a small sip of his brandy, taking the opportunity to hide the slight smile. Barbara flustered was a rare and, to his mind, delightful thing.

“Anyone I know?”

“Yes. Yes, you know them,” Barbara said, fingers pulling absent-mindedly at the creases of her dress slacks.

“A cop? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Barbara paled. “About that. Not a cop. Actually, not exactly a guy.”

“I see,” he replied slowly. “And you want my opinion or blessing?”

“Something like that.”

“I see. And if my opinion was that I thought it was an abomination, crime against God and nature? If you continue this sinful life you’re never to darken my door again.”

If possible she grew paler. “Dad?”

“Would you continue? Simple question, Barbara.”

She hesitated and he could see the confusion and hurt in her eyes harden into resolve.

“Yes,” she said, straightening from the slouch that had been building since she had entered the study.

“Good for you,” Gordon said with a grin. “It’s Helena, I suspect.”

“What?” Barbara said, voice again confused.

“Helena Kyle. She’s your new beau. Quite a looker.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, some good looking, smart grandkids,” he said thoughtfully, examining the colour of his brandy with delight.

“Dad.”

“Have you talked about kids?” he asked, looking up over the edge of the snifter.

“Dad!”

“Sorry.”

“That was mean.”

“Despite the photographic memory and a four digit IQ you can be an amazingly stupid woman, Barbara.”

“I’m getting that from her, too.”

“You’re my daughter and the only regret I have is that I didn’t know you better before you came into my life,” Gordon continued. “If, ahh, dating, Helena makes you happy you have my blessings. Not to mention envy…”

“Dad!”

“…of most of the Gotham,” Gordon quickly added before leaning forward and looking at her seriously. “Barbara, I’m glad my opinion matters but I’m very, very glad that my opinion wouldn’t stop you from being happy.”

“This very is unconventional,” she said quietly. “Logically I knew it was irrational but I was scared of your reaction.”

“And I’m sorry I scared you more but I don’t like to see you doubting. I figured if you told me to go to hell telling the rest of the world would be easy.”

“Any more Cop Psych 101 and I’m going to have a heart attack.“ Barbara stated, spinning the chair quickly toward the drink trolley. "I need a drink.”

“Brandy took a beating last week,” Gordon told her.

“That’s okay. Alfred still keeps you in Scotch, right?”

“He does indeed. Can I ask you a question, Barbara?”

“Sure.”

“You’ve never sought my approval over your suitors before. Why now?”

“The unconventional thing. I didn’t want it to seem like some secret.”

The sip of brandy became a coughing splutter. Quickly Barbara secured her glass between her legs and wheeled the chair closer to slap Gordon’s back.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, you caught me by surprise,” Gordon said, setting the snifter carefully down. “This not keeping secrets would be a new trait for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Little miss sneak out the bedroom window at night.”

“Oh.”

“You know, I use to worry that you were meeting up with Bobby Innsbrook to smoke pot in the park.”

“Dad!”

“Then, after a few weeks, a few reports. Then I began to hope it was marijuana and Bobby. Or, apparently, Jessica Evans. Now that I think of it Helena looks kind of like Jessie.”

“Jesus,” Barbara muttered, cheeks flushing and then growing pale. "You knew?"

"No," he said honestly. "I suspected but I didn't know until that night. A lot of things became very clear that night." He reached out and rubbed her knee briskly but, her attention focused on some memory, she was unaware. Biting a sigh he touched her arm and brought her back to the present.

“Maybe I should have stopped it then,” he continued. “Grounded you or something. Forbidden you from … well, everything. Maybe then,” He waved at Barbara and the chair and the world, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You can second guess your entire life, Dad.”

“True. So, I’ll just thank God you’re alive and not married to Bobby Innsbrook. Never did like that boy.”

“Neither did I.”

“Jessie, on the other hand.”

Barbara slapped her father’s knee. “Stop it.”

“Do you have any regrets?”

She could leave the obvious one unspoken. “No,” she said firmly.

“Good. Life’s too short for regrets. You should bring her to our next lunch.”

“Jessie?”

This time it was Barbara who got her knee slapped. “Imp.”

“I’ll visit more often.”

“Call first so that the security system laser beams don’t take you down.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve made me very proud over the years, Barbara. Even with your little nocturnal excursions. You were a good guardian to Helena when she needed you in that role. Especially that curfew thing. How she whined to me and I just thought…”

“Payback?”

“Well, I’d have put it more kindly, but yes." He smiled and raised his snifter at her. "You turned out well so I must have done an okay job."

"You did a great job, Dad."

"Do you think they should call me 'grandpa' or 'pop'?"

END

Next: Correct Motivation

URL: www.oocities.org/maven369/in2/bp2.html
Main Page: www.oocities.org/maven369
Email at maven369@sympatico.ca