Aphrodite
Modern Mythology #3

by maven

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The characters of Birds of Prey are the property of Warner Bros. and DC Comics, all other characters are the property of DC Comics.

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 now that I’ve seen them all.

CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: We'll boil it down to BG, Warped and Nik as being the chief prods to this particular muse.

STORY SPECIFIC NOTES:
1) Imagine my surprise when it turns out that Gabby appeared in two episodes and was mentioned in (so far as I can remember) one other. So this Gabby is pretty much made up from whole cloth. Plaid, I think. Greens and browns and dull yellowy-gold. Nothing too garish, a hunting tartan rather than a piper's.
2) Timing. Right. Darned if I know. I'm going with the events of the final episode happened near the end of Dinah and Gabby's junior year (grade 11 for us Canucks) and that Policy and Procedure happened at lease six months after that. Modern Mythology, therefore, starts in the middle of their final (senior, grade 12, 12th grade, year 12, whatever) year. I think. Kind of hazy.

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



Alfred lets me up, meeting me at the lift and escorting me through the slight maze that separates the apartment from the secret lair rooms. Ms Gordon waves casually at me, attention clearly on the large monitors that surround her. I pause, looking at the displays of maps, data and floor plans while she and Helena discuss some suspicious shipments at the dock. Alfred murmurs something about cookies and hot chocolate and then points to the balcony.

I stand in the open doorway, taking the opportunity to watch her without the distraction of school or her obvious excuses to escape my company. I've spent two weeks being patient, being understanding. Going insane with Ms Gordon's sympathetic smiles at school and Helena's mocking assurances and Alfred's parroted and embarrassed excuses why Dinah can't come to the phone.

It's about two hours after sunset and the city lights are the only illumination. There's no moon yet, no stars bright enough to cut the urban glow that reflects off the clouds that stretch out, covering the rooftops like sea mist. She's in half profile to me and, for a brief moment I see her out of eyes that aren't my own. Helena's bratty sidekick, Barbara's eager protégé, her foster mother's problem child, the gawky misfit that Dinah sees in the mirror. And then, they're gone and I'm looking again with my own eyes.

"Beautiful."

She glances over her shoulder. "It is. I never thought a city could be beautiful like this."

I don't bother to correct her and move to stand beside her at the balcony railing. Close but not too close. She's focusing on some building or maybe waiting for Helena who's probably leaping tall buildings.

Or maybe she's just plotting on how she can keep avoiding me.

"You've been avoiding me," I say after a couple of minutes of silence.

"I've been busy," she says defensively. She's still looking out over the city and not looking at me at all. Pretty much the story since that day.

"You've been busier and still made time for me."

"This is different."

"Yeah. I guess it is," I say slowly, turning my focus from her to the blurry city lights. "Too bad you can't just go into my brain and erase that night. Be easier all around."

"Is that what you want?"

"Be easier," I repeat sullenly. I figure after two weeks I feel entitled to wallow a little in self-pity and melodrama.

"Is. That. What. You. Want?" The words and tone are harsh with emotion, barely whispered but I hear them clearly.

"No," I whisper. "Why would I not want to have that memory?"

"You said it'd be easier."

"For you. If I didn't know all your secrets. All about Helena and Ms Gordon. If we hadn't start..." I stop and take a breath. Angry won't help. "You've been avoiding me."

"I have," she says and then she nods. "Listen, my mom gave me up, put me with a foster family because this life is so dangerous."

"Whoa. Hold on. It sounds like you're breaking up with me. Because, technically, we're not going together so you can't break up with me."

"Gab…"

"Seriously, first things first. You wanna go out with me? Homecoming and Saturday night reserved? Making out at the lockers?"

"Gabby, I'm serious."

"So am I. Well, maybe not the making out at the lockers because Mrs. MacMillan would likely stroke out. But the rest? Go steady like they use to say? I'm serious."

"Gab…"

"Please?" I plead. "I don't know what's happening between us but I like it. I like you. A lot. And some stuff is already in the wrong order so please don't break up with me before we're together."

"Okay."

"Okay, you'll go out with me?"

"Yeah."

"Yay!" I say, punching the air. But my excitement is short-lived as she continues seriously. Because now that we're going together; it's obviously okay to break up with me.

"Gabby, my mom gave me up, put me with a foster family because this life is so dangerous."

"And it was the right thing for her to do."

"What?"

"Dinah you were a little kid and she was alone. I'm an adult." Well, almost an adult, I allow mentally. "And you have Helena and Ms Gordon. It's not the same situation. Now, if we have kids…"

She makes a squeaky noise, staring at me in shock and I'm glad I've managed to elicit some response from her that isn't me being dumped.

"…we'll have likely re-evaluate…"

"Gabby!"

"Getting ahead of myself. May I kiss you? Get back into the right order of things?"

She nods, slowly but not as if she were hesitating out of fear or anything. More like thoughtful. I lean in and kiss her on the cheek.

"That's it?" she whispers.

"If you want it to be," I answer, shifting slightly so that I'm still close but not crowding her. So that she can step away from me without hindrance. I can't bear the thought that she might think I was forcing this.

"No," she says and, fortunately for me, I don't have too long to be tortured by her ambiguous answer as she kisses me.

After a few moments I become aware of it. A shift of perception as the balcony becomes brightly lit. I look up and see a foggy, translucent glass wall. Behind it are the silhouettes of people but I can't see or hear or remember their memories. It's the balcony but not. There's the deck furniture and Helena's bedroom tucked in one corner and our section of lockers along one wall. It's warm, warmer than the night was, and smells sweet, like a meadow by the River Cam.

"Where is this?"

"Our Place," she says.

"And them?"

She looks around. "The brick wall? That keeps you and me safe. Alone."

She sounds like Dinah without sounding exactly like Dinah. "We're in your head?" This is totally different than what happened that night. This is like floating down a gentle river. That night was going over Angel Falls.

"Not exactly. We're still on the balcony." She looks around again. "This is new. When I enter someone's head, their memories, it's always a place. Usually where we are physically or a common ground. The lockers, the bed, the blending of here and memories, that's a new thing."

"Could we use it?" I ask, not exactly sure how this mind-reality works.

"The lockers?"

"I meant…"

"I know what you meant," she says, smiling and touching her lips with mine. Which doesn't answer my question but distracts me with a kind of echo effect between the physical and mental.

A couple of lifetimes later I hear a dull thud behind me in the physical world.

"Oh, God, you two. Get me the hose."

"Shut up, Helena," Dinah says, pulling back far enough to look at me. Looking for something in my face and smiling when she doesn't see it. The 'Our Place' is gone and the real balcony and the chill evening surrounds us.

"No. Get me a hose. Barbara won't let me the apartment in like this."

Dinah looks over my shoulder and, as she begins to giggle, I turn. Helena is standing in the middle of the balcony, mud covering her from the top of her head to the heels of her boots. Four slashs of white across her face where she'd wiped her eyes clear is the only relatively clean spot.

"God, I hate this job sometimes."

"Diving into the harbour again?"

"Yeah, I swear, next time I'll risk the shot. Blood has to be easier to get off of leather than this gunk."

"This happen a lot, Tiger?" I ask as Dinah prepares the garden hose. Helena's eyes narrow at my new nickname for her but she shrugs and ignores it.

"Often enough to hook the balcony faucet to the hot water," Helena answers, arms stretched out into a T, "but not enough to put in an actual shower."

"Hey, maybe a shower and hot tub?" Dinah says, "for those long, cold, wet stakeouts?"

"Or for those long, hot, wet dates?" Helena drawls, receiving a blast of water in the face for the comment. I flee before it degenerates further, ducking into the apartment as they fight over control of the hose.

"Still wanna be a superhero?" Ms Gordon asks from my side where I've taken shelter to watch.

"And lose out on this?" I bite my tongue to stop any wet t-shirt comments.

There's a soft chuckle and I look down to see her smiling as she watches Helena and Dinah. "We do what we do because it's necessary, not because it's safe. Helena could have been shot...."

"Forget it. Dinah's already tried to scare me off today. Besides, it pays well, right?" I ask lightly, refusing to follow her down the more serious conversational route.

"Actually, it doesn't pay at all."

"Then," I say firmly, "it's likely something that has to be done and done well."

"I've always thought so. Do you still want to join the team?"

"God, yeah," I say, turning again to the balcony at a particularly shrill squeal. Helena has Dinah over her shoulders, spinning her around, sending a spray of water into the air. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

END

Next: Demeter.

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