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Summary: Chloe nudges another superhero toward a second chance.
“The Voice”
Chloe Sullivan had learned a lot in the past few years. She learned to use a crossbow, hack into major government agencies’ computer systems, sky dive, ride a motorcycle, and today she was driving a speedboat. Usually she didn’t undertake these trips alone, but this endeavor was a particularly sensitive one. And normally she would be driving a car, but the usual avenues were crowded with paparazzi, and it wasn’t a good idea for anyone to be seeing Chloe Sullivan knocking on the front door of her intended destination.
So today, she was traveling by speedboat.
Chloe was grateful to have a high-quality navigational device because without it, she would have missed the opening in the jagged rock cliffs that led to the underground secret entrance. She maneuvered the boat carefully through the dark, circuitous canal, lit only by dim lanterns every few feet, where she met a tall, lanky figure standing on the shadowed dock. He was expecting her.
Expertly, she tied off the boat and looked up at her one-man welcoming committee. “Right on time,” she announced, smiling. She removed the scarf from her head and shook out her blonde curls.
“Yes, Miss Sullivan. Welcome back to Wayne Manor,” Alfred Pennyworth said, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose with one hand and holding out the other to grab Chloe’s.
“Good to be back on terra firma.” She grabbed his hand and stepped up onto the dock, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.
“I trust you found your way without incident.”
“Almost didn’t. That entrance is tricky.”
“Well, the design serves a purpose. I’m pleased you found your way regardless.”
“Me, too.” Chloe followed Alfred through the labyrinth of computers, equipment, gear, and vehicles, all cloaked in darkness, until they reached the elevator, where Chloe grabbed Alfred’s hand before he pressed the call button. “She doesn’t know I’m here, does she? She hasn’t been answering my calls or responding to my messages.”
“I thought it best that your visit be a pleasant surprise, Miss Sullivan, considering the circumstances.”
Chloe relaxed and let go of Alfred’s arm so he could press the button. “Good call. Especially on framing it as a ‘pleasant surprise’ rather than an ambush, which is what Oliver Queen called it. Is there a place I can freshen up? I smell like the harbor, and I’d like to get out of these traveling clothes.”
After a pit stop in the powder room, Alfred led the way to the door at the farthest end of the largest wing of the home.
Chloe took a deep breath as Alfred knocked loudly on the door.
***
Wayne Manor was quiet most of the time these days. Barbara was the only occupant now besides Alfred, as she recovered from her injuries away from the prying, curious, pitying eyes of the public who knew her as Miss Gordon, computer science teacher and high school librarian, and those who knew her as...someone else. Since Bruce left, Alfred insisted that she stay there and she didn’t protest. Her apartment was in the center of the bustling city, where it would be hard to recover from her injuries in peace. Plus it was a fourth-floor walk-up. She kept the shades drawn and drapes closed; it was sometimes too hard to see reminders of the outside and everything she was missing. She had everything she needed in here, anyway. Besides a bed and a small dining table, Alfred had thoughtfully set up her new room with her computer and a couple of extra monitors. And she needed it since she was very close to becoming agoraphobic these days, and it helped her to stay informed of what was going on out there. Some free weights, fighting sticks, and fitness bands lay strewn in the corner next to the bathroom door, the only evidence of a visitor outside of Alfred — the physical therapist.
Her new motorized wheelchair was equipped with an intercom that connected her straight to Alfred — although she rarely ever used it. Her meals appeared at the same times each day, and her days were predictable and mundane. Sometimes she would go down the hall to the kitchen for a snack or water, or to put her dishes in the dishwasher. Alfred seemed to know the exact balance of providing for her and letting her be independent. Nevertheless, it was...a change from her life before.
There was a quick, loud rap at the door. Barbara’s brow furrowed. She just had lunch, so it was too early for dinner. “Come in, Alfred,” she called, as she maneuvered her wheelchair out from behind the desk and looked up expectantly.
“You have a guest, Miss Barbara,” Alfred said as he opened the door.
A guest? This morning was the physical therapist, so they were not expecting anyone else. Barbara ran a nervous hand over her disheveled hair and then pulled her ponytail a little tighter. “Who —? But I —” Alfred pretended not to hear her as he walked away purposefully. He knew she had rejected all guests. In fact, she hadn’t even realized anyone had come onto the grounds. There hadn’t been anyone in the past month, besides the physical therapist and food deliveries, whose car engines that she could hear from her front window. Thankfully, she couldn’t see and hear the news and tabloid vans that were sometimes stationed just around the bend at the front gates. She only saw them on the evening news as she channel surfed past them. That was enough.
Barbara’s brow furrowed as the visitor stepped through the door. And then she knew why Alfred hadn’t said anything. Her face relaxed. “Chloe.”
Chloe grinned as she strode into the room toward Barbara to give her a warm, lasting hug. They had met for the first time only a couple of years ago, when Batgirl was only just starting to accompany Batman as Gotham’s sidekick, but they had kept in touch because of their mutual interest in the technological side of things. Barbara hadn’t responded to Chloe’s messages in awhile — she stopped reading completely a few weeks ago. Chloe’s blonde hair was shorter now, and instead of wearing the all-black tactical gear she had worn during their first few encounters, today she was wearing dark green corduroy slacks, a brown blazer with a fabric flower on the lapel, and high-heeled boots. Barbara fidgeted with the blanket on her lap, feeling woefully underdressed in her yoga pants, faded sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks.
“I tried calling, but you never picked up. I hope you don’t mind the surprise visit.” Chloe rubbed Barbara’s upper back gently but comfortingly. When they parted, Chloe dropped into the chaise lounge, throwing her bag next to her, and leaned her chin on her fist.
“So you went through Alfred instead,” Barbara guessed. If anyone would have the temerity to insist upon a visit despite numerous rejections, out of their whole superhero secret circle, it would be Chloe. The rest were brave out in the field, but Chloe was the bravest when it came to her heart.
Chloe shrugged. “I thought I would garner a better outcome taking the path of least resistance.” She paused before continuing. “How are you?” she asked softly, leaning forward and looking Barbara in the eye carefully.
But Barbara lowered her gaze, refusing to meet her friend’s. It was the first time anyone, besides a medical professional, had asked her that question. She found that it made her uncomfortable. How could she respond? She was injured so severely that she was paralyzed from the waist down. She hoped to regain some feeling soon, but she was feeling discouraged, frustrated that her progress was so slow. The doctors said that the best case scenario was that she would be able to take short walks in a few years, and that was unacceptable. Her life had changed completely in a split second. It was a long way from tumbling around on rooftops, roundhouse kicking criminals, and rappelling down city high-rises. If only she had gone left instead of right. Bruce Wayne’s fate may have turned out differently; maybe he wouldn’t have disappeared because he wouldn’t have blamed himself. But no, here she was, learning to use a wheelchair, getting used to doing everything differently with her limitations. Hiding from the rest of the world because she didn’t know how she would fit into it now.
The silence was long and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, that’s probably not a great question to ask,” Chloe answered for herself. She stood up and walked over to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain for the first time in a month,to reveal the expansive gardens. Barbara squinted at the bright sun that poured in. “It’s just that Alfred told me you haven’t left the house since you got here.”
Barbara felt the tears welling up in her eyes, and she fought them back. Maybe, if anyone would know how she felt, it would be Chloe. Chloe, who had lived ten different lives before she even turned thirty years old, who was rumored to have died many times over by now, would know what it felt like. Maybe. She took a deep breath before she answered. “I feel helpless. I feel weak. I feel...I feel like I failed.”
Chloe turned to look at her and her smile was gone. She walked back over so that she stood directly in front of Barbara, unable to be ignored. “I know you’re listening to some annoying little voice in your head that’s telling you that, but I’m here to tell you to stop listening to her. You are one of the best things about this city. One of the bravest, hardest-working crime fighters I know.” Chloe shook her head, as if trying to find the right words. “Listen to me. You were — are — a real hero.”
“And now I’m a helpless, useless girl in a wheelchair,” Barbara responded dully. She turned slightly so she wouldn’t be facing Chloe anymore.
“You know that is not true,” Chloe said emphatically. She shifted again to stand in front of Barbara. “This world still needs you. You still have so much left to give.”
Barbara was incredulous — that was debatable. She changed her mind. What did Chloe Sullivan know? She spent most of her days in a high tower, looking down over the rest of the world, detached from all the action in Metropolis and its surrounding areas. Sometimes she visited other cities, nudging individuals who showed promise or the drive to be more. She was more often than not successful — including with Barbara. A lifetime ago...
Which led to the question: “What are you doing here anyway?” Barbara asked, backing up slightly, now curious and a little suspicious. “I’m not your usual target. Not anymore.”
A smile hinted at Chloe’s lips, and Barbara caught it. “Target? And what do you think is my usual modus operandi?”
“You convince people to become heroes,” Barbara responded carefully, examining Chloe’s face for more clues of her true intention. “And you help to train them. That’s what you did with me. What do you want with me now?”
“Okay, well, I’m still doing that,” Chloe said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Barbara spread her arms open, as if to show Chloe. She gestured to her lower body and the wheelchair. She wasn’t Batgirl anymore. Who could she be now? “Really?” Barbara didn’t try to hide the incredulity in her voice.
Chloe nodded. “Well, okay. I’m not asking you to be Batgirl again. But we do need you, especially right now, Barbara. Your help, specifically.”
Barbara’s curiosity was officially piqued. Did she have something to offer that no one else could? “Spit it out, Chloe. I’m too tired to exercise my imagination on this topic in particular.” She hoped she wasn’t coming off as cranky; she was just fatigued. The past ten minutes were the most conversation that she had had in months. Not to mention the heaviest.
“To put it plainly: You are a computer wizard.” Chloe walked over to the computer and accessed her private database. She brought up the files of two women. Barbara didn’t know them well, but she knew of them. “With Batman nowhere to be seen around here, there are a couple of new superheroes on deck to help fill the void.” Barbara approached to take a closer look at the screen. The Huntress. Black Canary. Barbara scanned their stats quickly.
Chloe gave her a moment to digest the information on the screen. “You know how it works out there.” She gestured out the window. “And you know how it works in here, too.” Chloe tapped the computer screen. “If you are in their ears, feeding them everything they need to know from what’s in here, you can make them that much more effective at fighting what’s out there.” She reached into the bag she brought with her and pulled out a small device that looked like a souped-up Bluetooth headset. She placed it between them, on the desk.
“I don’t think —” Barbara started to say. She wasn’t ready. It was too soon.
Chloe held her hand up, which stopped Barbara from saying more, and then placed it on top of Barbara’s. “You don’t have to decide right now ,” she said. “I can appreciate that you’re still in grief. You’re still mourning the life you used to have. You’re processing a lot, physically and emotionally. I just want you to consider it.”
“Can’t you just move to Gotham for a little while and do this for them? Why me?”
Chloe pressed her lips together and smiled. “Well, yeah, it would make sense for Watchtower to take up temporary residence in Gotham City, wouldn’t it? But…” She placed her hand on her abdomen deliberately. “I have another project in the works, so to speak, so in about five months, that will take up all of my bandwidth.”
Barbara’s eyes widened and then she smiled genuinely, for the first time in a while. “Chloe! A baby? That’s wonderful news!”
“Thank you. So will you think about it?” Chloe shifted her weight and leaned forward toward Barbara. “If it helps, you can think of it as a favor to me. Just be a Watchtower substitute until I can come back.”
Barbara pressed her lips together and extended her hand to touch the headset on the desk. It was sleek, black, top-of-the-line. Slowly, she tucked a stray lock of her long red hair behind her right ear and put the headset on. It fit perfectly.
Chloe leaned back, looking satisfied. “Good. Great.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
An apologetic shrug. “I’m just glad it fits,” Chloe said quickly. “I mean, Queen Industries and Wayne Tech literally had it custom-made and designed for you.”
“Do I get a new call sign?” It wouldn’t be a good idea for her to remain as Batgirl. And it would hurt too much. It physically hurt to even think of herself as Batgirl anymore.
“Already thought of that. Since you’ll be the voice in their ear, you’ll be the Oracle.”
“Oracle.” Barbara let the name roll off her tongue, testing how it felt to say it. Maybe it could work.
Chloe picked up her bag and started toward the door. “Anyway, now that I’ve mentioned my pregnancy, I don’t have to feel embarrassed about being famished right now. I’m going to head to the kitchen. Do you think Alfred has any white cheddar popcorn? My pregnancy cravings tend toward the salty. Someone told me it means I’ll be having a boy. Ooh, and maybe he has some decaf. I’ve had to switch because of the baby, you know. I’ll come back and say goodbye before I leave!”
When the door closed behind her surprise visitor, Barbara situated herself in front of the window to stare outside with the drapes fully pulled back now. It looked darker, dismal, even though the sun was shining. Maybe she could help make it brighter again. In a way, Chloe’s visit and her ideas opened up Barbara’s mind to the possibility of getting a semblance of her old life back; or maybe it wasn’t her old life, but a new one with a similar purpose. It was a sliver of hope, in a succession of months that didn’t seem to let in any.
She pulled the earpiece out to look at it again more closely. “Oracle,” she whispered softly to herself.
“Oracle,” she said more loudly. It was starting to feel more right.
She pressed the intercom button on her chair.
“Yes, Miss Barbara?” Alfred’s voice came through promptly from the speaker attached to her armrest.
“Can you ask Chloe if she can stay for a little while? We’re starting a new project.”
Barbara heard the smile in Alfred’s voice as he cleared his throat before saying, “She’s already unpacked in the guest bedroom next to the kitchen. And I’m ordering more popcorn and decaf as we speak.” As she clicked her speaker off, she thought she heard Chloe cheer in the background.
Fin 06.13.2020
Notes: This was written after I had finally watched all of Smallville and then re-watched Birds of Prey (the TV show, not the movie). While I picture Dina Meyer and Allison Mack, I fully recognize that the timelines don’t match up and I don’t much care. Thank you as always to my longtime friend and one-time writing partner Craig Byrne of KryptonSite and KSiteTV for reading my work and encouraging me always.
“The Voice”
Chloe Sullivan had learned a lot in the past few years. She learned to use a crossbow, hack into major government agencies’ computer systems, sky dive, ride a motorcycle, and today she was driving a speedboat. Usually she didn’t undertake these trips alone, but this endeavor was a particularly sensitive one. And normally she would be driving a car, but the usual avenues were crowded with paparazzi, and it wasn’t a good idea for anyone to be seeing Chloe Sullivan knocking on the front door of her intended destination.
So today, she was traveling by speedboat.
Chloe was grateful to have a high-quality navigational device because without it, she would have missed the opening in the jagged rock cliffs that led to the underground secret entrance. She maneuvered the boat carefully through the dark, circuitous canal, lit only by dim lanterns every few feet, where she met a tall, lanky figure standing on the shadowed dock. He was expecting her.
Expertly, she tied off the boat and looked up at her one-man welcoming committee. “Right on time,” she announced, smiling. She removed the scarf from her head and shook out her blonde curls.
“Yes, Miss Sullivan. Welcome back to Wayne Manor,” Alfred Pennyworth said, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose with one hand and holding out the other to grab Chloe’s.
“Good to be back on terra firma.” She grabbed his hand and stepped up onto the dock, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.
“I trust you found your way without incident.”
“Almost didn’t. That entrance is tricky.”
“Well, the design serves a purpose. I’m pleased you found your way regardless.”
“Me, too.” Chloe followed Alfred through the labyrinth of computers, equipment, gear, and vehicles, all cloaked in darkness, until they reached the elevator, where Chloe grabbed Alfred’s hand before he pressed the call button. “She doesn’t know I’m here, does she? She hasn’t been answering my calls or responding to my messages.”
“I thought it best that your visit be a pleasant surprise, Miss Sullivan, considering the circumstances.”
Chloe relaxed and let go of Alfred’s arm so he could press the button. “Good call. Especially on framing it as a ‘pleasant surprise’ rather than an ambush, which is what Oliver Queen called it. Is there a place I can freshen up? I smell like the harbor, and I’d like to get out of these traveling clothes.”
After a pit stop in the powder room, Alfred led the way to the door at the farthest end of the largest wing of the home.
Chloe took a deep breath as Alfred knocked loudly on the door.
***
Wayne Manor was quiet most of the time these days. Barbara was the only occupant now besides Alfred, as she recovered from her injuries away from the prying, curious, pitying eyes of the public who knew her as Miss Gordon, computer science teacher and high school librarian, and those who knew her as...someone else. Since Bruce left, Alfred insisted that she stay there and she didn’t protest. Her apartment was in the center of the bustling city, where it would be hard to recover from her injuries in peace. Plus it was a fourth-floor walk-up. She kept the shades drawn and drapes closed; it was sometimes too hard to see reminders of the outside and everything she was missing. She had everything she needed in here, anyway. Besides a bed and a small dining table, Alfred had thoughtfully set up her new room with her computer and a couple of extra monitors. And she needed it since she was very close to becoming agoraphobic these days, and it helped her to stay informed of what was going on out there. Some free weights, fighting sticks, and fitness bands lay strewn in the corner next to the bathroom door, the only evidence of a visitor outside of Alfred — the physical therapist.
Her new motorized wheelchair was equipped with an intercom that connected her straight to Alfred — although she rarely ever used it. Her meals appeared at the same times each day, and her days were predictable and mundane. Sometimes she would go down the hall to the kitchen for a snack or water, or to put her dishes in the dishwasher. Alfred seemed to know the exact balance of providing for her and letting her be independent. Nevertheless, it was...a change from her life before.
There was a quick, loud rap at the door. Barbara’s brow furrowed. She just had lunch, so it was too early for dinner. “Come in, Alfred,” she called, as she maneuvered her wheelchair out from behind the desk and looked up expectantly.
“You have a guest, Miss Barbara,” Alfred said as he opened the door.
A guest? This morning was the physical therapist, so they were not expecting anyone else. Barbara ran a nervous hand over her disheveled hair and then pulled her ponytail a little tighter. “Who —? But I —” Alfred pretended not to hear her as he walked away purposefully. He knew she had rejected all guests. In fact, she hadn’t even realized anyone had come onto the grounds. There hadn’t been anyone in the past month, besides the physical therapist and food deliveries, whose car engines that she could hear from her front window. Thankfully, she couldn’t see and hear the news and tabloid vans that were sometimes stationed just around the bend at the front gates. She only saw them on the evening news as she channel surfed past them. That was enough.
Barbara’s brow furrowed as the visitor stepped through the door. And then she knew why Alfred hadn’t said anything. Her face relaxed. “Chloe.”
Chloe grinned as she strode into the room toward Barbara to give her a warm, lasting hug. They had met for the first time only a couple of years ago, when Batgirl was only just starting to accompany Batman as Gotham’s sidekick, but they had kept in touch because of their mutual interest in the technological side of things. Barbara hadn’t responded to Chloe’s messages in awhile — she stopped reading completely a few weeks ago. Chloe’s blonde hair was shorter now, and instead of wearing the all-black tactical gear she had worn during their first few encounters, today she was wearing dark green corduroy slacks, a brown blazer with a fabric flower on the lapel, and high-heeled boots. Barbara fidgeted with the blanket on her lap, feeling woefully underdressed in her yoga pants, faded sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks.
“I tried calling, but you never picked up. I hope you don’t mind the surprise visit.” Chloe rubbed Barbara’s upper back gently but comfortingly. When they parted, Chloe dropped into the chaise lounge, throwing her bag next to her, and leaned her chin on her fist.
“So you went through Alfred instead,” Barbara guessed. If anyone would have the temerity to insist upon a visit despite numerous rejections, out of their whole superhero secret circle, it would be Chloe. The rest were brave out in the field, but Chloe was the bravest when it came to her heart.
Chloe shrugged. “I thought I would garner a better outcome taking the path of least resistance.” She paused before continuing. “How are you?” she asked softly, leaning forward and looking Barbara in the eye carefully.
But Barbara lowered her gaze, refusing to meet her friend’s. It was the first time anyone, besides a medical professional, had asked her that question. She found that it made her uncomfortable. How could she respond? She was injured so severely that she was paralyzed from the waist down. She hoped to regain some feeling soon, but she was feeling discouraged, frustrated that her progress was so slow. The doctors said that the best case scenario was that she would be able to take short walks in a few years, and that was unacceptable. Her life had changed completely in a split second. It was a long way from tumbling around on rooftops, roundhouse kicking criminals, and rappelling down city high-rises. If only she had gone left instead of right. Bruce Wayne’s fate may have turned out differently; maybe he wouldn’t have disappeared because he wouldn’t have blamed himself. But no, here she was, learning to use a wheelchair, getting used to doing everything differently with her limitations. Hiding from the rest of the world because she didn’t know how she would fit into it now.
The silence was long and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, that’s probably not a great question to ask,” Chloe answered for herself. She stood up and walked over to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain for the first time in a month,to reveal the expansive gardens. Barbara squinted at the bright sun that poured in. “It’s just that Alfred told me you haven’t left the house since you got here.”
Barbara felt the tears welling up in her eyes, and she fought them back. Maybe, if anyone would know how she felt, it would be Chloe. Chloe, who had lived ten different lives before she even turned thirty years old, who was rumored to have died many times over by now, would know what it felt like. Maybe. She took a deep breath before she answered. “I feel helpless. I feel weak. I feel...I feel like I failed.”
Chloe turned to look at her and her smile was gone. She walked back over so that she stood directly in front of Barbara, unable to be ignored. “I know you’re listening to some annoying little voice in your head that’s telling you that, but I’m here to tell you to stop listening to her. You are one of the best things about this city. One of the bravest, hardest-working crime fighters I know.” Chloe shook her head, as if trying to find the right words. “Listen to me. You were — are — a real hero.”
“And now I’m a helpless, useless girl in a wheelchair,” Barbara responded dully. She turned slightly so she wouldn’t be facing Chloe anymore.
“You know that is not true,” Chloe said emphatically. She shifted again to stand in front of Barbara. “This world still needs you. You still have so much left to give.”
Barbara was incredulous — that was debatable. She changed her mind. What did Chloe Sullivan know? She spent most of her days in a high tower, looking down over the rest of the world, detached from all the action in Metropolis and its surrounding areas. Sometimes she visited other cities, nudging individuals who showed promise or the drive to be more. She was more often than not successful — including with Barbara. A lifetime ago...
Which led to the question: “What are you doing here anyway?” Barbara asked, backing up slightly, now curious and a little suspicious. “I’m not your usual target. Not anymore.”
A smile hinted at Chloe’s lips, and Barbara caught it. “Target? And what do you think is my usual modus operandi?”
“You convince people to become heroes,” Barbara responded carefully, examining Chloe’s face for more clues of her true intention. “And you help to train them. That’s what you did with me. What do you want with me now?”
“Okay, well, I’m still doing that,” Chloe said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Barbara spread her arms open, as if to show Chloe. She gestured to her lower body and the wheelchair. She wasn’t Batgirl anymore. Who could she be now? “Really?” Barbara didn’t try to hide the incredulity in her voice.
Chloe nodded. “Well, okay. I’m not asking you to be Batgirl again. But we do need you, especially right now, Barbara. Your help, specifically.”
Barbara’s curiosity was officially piqued. Did she have something to offer that no one else could? “Spit it out, Chloe. I’m too tired to exercise my imagination on this topic in particular.” She hoped she wasn’t coming off as cranky; she was just fatigued. The past ten minutes were the most conversation that she had had in months. Not to mention the heaviest.
“To put it plainly: You are a computer wizard.” Chloe walked over to the computer and accessed her private database. She brought up the files of two women. Barbara didn’t know them well, but she knew of them. “With Batman nowhere to be seen around here, there are a couple of new superheroes on deck to help fill the void.” Barbara approached to take a closer look at the screen. The Huntress. Black Canary. Barbara scanned their stats quickly.
Chloe gave her a moment to digest the information on the screen. “You know how it works out there.” She gestured out the window. “And you know how it works in here, too.” Chloe tapped the computer screen. “If you are in their ears, feeding them everything they need to know from what’s in here, you can make them that much more effective at fighting what’s out there.” She reached into the bag she brought with her and pulled out a small device that looked like a souped-up Bluetooth headset. She placed it between them, on the desk.
“I don’t think —” Barbara started to say. She wasn’t ready. It was too soon.
Chloe held her hand up, which stopped Barbara from saying more, and then placed it on top of Barbara’s. “You don’t have to decide right now ,” she said. “I can appreciate that you’re still in grief. You’re still mourning the life you used to have. You’re processing a lot, physically and emotionally. I just want you to consider it.”
“Can’t you just move to Gotham for a little while and do this for them? Why me?”
Chloe pressed her lips together and smiled. “Well, yeah, it would make sense for Watchtower to take up temporary residence in Gotham City, wouldn’t it? But…” She placed her hand on her abdomen deliberately. “I have another project in the works, so to speak, so in about five months, that will take up all of my bandwidth.”
Barbara’s eyes widened and then she smiled genuinely, for the first time in a while. “Chloe! A baby? That’s wonderful news!”
“Thank you. So will you think about it?” Chloe shifted her weight and leaned forward toward Barbara. “If it helps, you can think of it as a favor to me. Just be a Watchtower substitute until I can come back.”
Barbara pressed her lips together and extended her hand to touch the headset on the desk. It was sleek, black, top-of-the-line. Slowly, she tucked a stray lock of her long red hair behind her right ear and put the headset on. It fit perfectly.
Chloe leaned back, looking satisfied. “Good. Great.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
An apologetic shrug. “I’m just glad it fits,” Chloe said quickly. “I mean, Queen Industries and Wayne Tech literally had it custom-made and designed for you.”
“Do I get a new call sign?” It wouldn’t be a good idea for her to remain as Batgirl. And it would hurt too much. It physically hurt to even think of herself as Batgirl anymore.
“Already thought of that. Since you’ll be the voice in their ear, you’ll be the Oracle.”
“Oracle.” Barbara let the name roll off her tongue, testing how it felt to say it. Maybe it could work.
Chloe picked up her bag and started toward the door. “Anyway, now that I’ve mentioned my pregnancy, I don’t have to feel embarrassed about being famished right now. I’m going to head to the kitchen. Do you think Alfred has any white cheddar popcorn? My pregnancy cravings tend toward the salty. Someone told me it means I’ll be having a boy. Ooh, and maybe he has some decaf. I’ve had to switch because of the baby, you know. I’ll come back and say goodbye before I leave!”
When the door closed behind her surprise visitor, Barbara situated herself in front of the window to stare outside with the drapes fully pulled back now. It looked darker, dismal, even though the sun was shining. Maybe she could help make it brighter again. In a way, Chloe’s visit and her ideas opened up Barbara’s mind to the possibility of getting a semblance of her old life back; or maybe it wasn’t her old life, but a new one with a similar purpose. It was a sliver of hope, in a succession of months that didn’t seem to let in any.
She pulled the earpiece out to look at it again more closely. “Oracle,” she whispered softly to herself.
“Oracle,” she said more loudly. It was starting to feel more right.
She pressed the intercom button on her chair.
“Yes, Miss Barbara?” Alfred’s voice came through promptly from the speaker attached to her armrest.
“Can you ask Chloe if she can stay for a little while? We’re starting a new project.”
Barbara heard the smile in Alfred’s voice as he cleared his throat before saying, “She’s already unpacked in the guest bedroom next to the kitchen. And I’m ordering more popcorn and decaf as we speak.” As she clicked her speaker off, she thought she heard Chloe cheer in the background.
Fin 06.13.2020
Notes: This was written after I had finally watched all of Smallville and then re-watched Birds of Prey (the TV show, not the movie). While I picture Dina Meyer and Allison Mack, I fully recognize that the timelines don’t match up and I don’t much care. Thank you as always to my longtime friend and one-time writing partner Craig Byrne of KryptonSite and KSiteTV for reading my work and encouraging me always.