Oracle

[ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] Do it. It’ll give me a boost in popularity amongst the youth. Just wait til I get properly active on social media, then it’ll all be over. […] [ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] They are indeed! [ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] But those computers are currently off. Nifty little thing–did you know they put manual switches on them, too? Safety reasons for transit, apparently.

[...]

[ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] [image attached]

[ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] You are tenacious, I’ll give you that.

[ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] Bought ‘em myself. I think they’re a nice set, too, thank you. 

[ ✉ → REASON NUMBER #19345 RIC IS USELESS] Is there a question somewhere in here, or are you just messaging me your seal of approval?

[...]

( text 📩girl is bodacious): Oh, definitely. She really liked the part where I collapsed and hit my head on the desk. Sexy. ( text 📩girl is bodacious): Wait, you /don’t/? Does that mean you missed that victory dance with the frozen yogurt on Tuesday? Disappointing, since it was just for you. ( … ) ( text 📩girl is bodacious):  I’ll always come to you, Babs. No matter what is wrong. ( text 📩girl is bodacious): Well, I’m here to quell your anxiety, Rocky. Moose, reporting for duty.  ( text 📩girl is bodacious): When was the last time you heard a Bullwinkle reference?

(✉️ ➡️ she sees all ): you’re doing  /what/ now?  (✉️ ➡️ she sees all ): how do you know which phone is his at this point? (✉️ ➡️ she sees all ): he’s got like twenty. he keeps screwing them up with his powers and while for legal reasons i have to say i didn’t laugh about it, i laughed a TON  (✉️ ➡️ she sees all ): no way i’m bringing ric down with us. the squad goes down together or we don’t go down at all

[ ✉ ⟹ Lieutenant Babs, Comms Officer  ] : When you can name them, they’re a team [ ✉ ⟹ Lieutenant Babs, Comms Officer  ] : Punch that in your calculator and learn it [ ✉ ⟹ Lieutenant Babs, Comms Officer  ] : I’m pretty sure he knows. I’m not like certain other costumed billionaires, I’m not that good at hiding my reactions [ ✉ ⟹ Lieutenant Babs, Comms Officer  ] : In fact, I may be the w o r s t

[ … ]

[ ✉ ⟹ Lieutenant Babs, Comms Officer  ] : I figured I was kicked from the “”official”” Birds, I don’t think any of your other teammates really care for old Kord 😜 [ ✉ ⟹ Lieutenant Babs, Comms Officer  ] : I would love to visit, I just know you get busy, don’t wanna bother you too much when the lives of Gotham are on the line

(✉️ ➡️ *hacker vc*): good luck finding a suitable replacement, i am irreplaceable. 

“My middle name,” Dick slurred around red-stained teeth, a split lip making things a bit more crimson than he was strictly comfortable with. “No doctors.” It was a fairly common rule between heroes and vigilantes alike - at least the ones without healing abilities - that unless they were actively dying, there was no need for a hospital. If Richard Grayson went in for treatment, then Bruce Wayne’s Son went in for treatment, making nightly news and a manhunt spurred on in the streets for whomever would deem him worthy to harm like that.

Still, it touched Dick, that even after all of the time they spent apart, Babs still efficiently diagnosed him and began her version of treatment nearly immediately. The throbbing in his side was a dull ache, numbed partially by adrenaline and stress, “Got any thread?” Dick pointed to the sluggishly bleeding hole, now exposed from his suit, hissing when the cool air passed over the wound, “Two stab wounds, one just below the kidney and one just below the liver.”

Naming his injuries had become such a common occurrence for Dick, growing up a hero at Batman’s side, and he remembered fairly vividly for someone whose head was swimming that he and Barbara had been through similar encounters like this more times than he could count. He imagined as Oracle, Barbara was safer now than she ever was at Dick’s side.

A pang of hurt at the thought that Babs wasn’t safe with him.

“You smell good,” Dick hummed, long fingers grabbing for a messy bun of red hair, smiling softly when the tresses looped themselves around the digits and fanned out over Babs’ shoulder. “Miss you.” A delirious smile.

-

It should mean something, that they could both lay out their anatomy and exactly how a blade could fit within it without thinking twice. He catalogued his injuries like he’d done it before, too many times for either of them to count. She wasn’t shocked because she’d heard it before. She could still hear the way he’d talked her through jumping off buildings, waiting for the grapple line to catch, how to brace herself so their arms didn’t leave their sockets. Even the mundane had a price tag, and everything they did was an exercise in avoiding it.

Dick had dodged right only insofar as he’d avoided his liver. His kidneys. The blood was slow enough to know he hadn’t hit a major vessel, but he was pale and on the edge of delirious and he’d lost enough. Barbara swallowed thickly as she pressed a pillowcase against the exposed wound. “Of course I have thread; hold this here.”

His hands played through her hair and her own stumbled as she rifled through her first aid kit. She had to think: hand sanitizer, thread, needles in sterile packages, betadine...

But his fingers were gentle despite his condition, his voice working around old familiar words. They stumbled around the edges just enough for her to know she had to be quick, to keep moving. To curse the fact that he had to be bleeding out before he’d crawl through her window again, before he’d say ‘I miss you’ without tacking a joke or a deflection on the end.

And curse her if she didn’t want him to say it straight. To say it when he wasn’t asking for stitches. When everything was clear and it wasn’t something laid into the space between ‘help’ and ‘good-bye.’ Curse her if her first response wasn’t ‘I miss you, too’ sitting on the edge of her tongue, like a reflex, something buried working its way up despite her best efforts. They weren’t allowed to say those words anymore, but there he was, and screw the rules.

“Don’t get sappy on me, you’re not that far gone.” Despite the bit to her words, her hands found his wrist where his fingers were wound into her hair. Gentle, finding the steady, still-strong thrum of his heartbeat in the space just below his thumb. She held it there, reluctant to let go. His fingers were warm against her, and they didn’t have to miss each other if they just stayed this close.

Every social media that Zee had was blowing up with people asking her about Tony or tagging her in all sorts of shit about marriage and their wedding photos. Though were they wedding photos? It felt strange to only stolen glimpses of their wedding night in the form of snapshots from strangers. Would they take new ones? Should they? They skipped engagement photos and invitations and all the normal things that people did.

Not that Tony or Zee could ever be accused of being normal. But this was wild, even for them. But life went on as if nothing had happened. Mostly. Zatanna was back at work, performing her weekend shows and she assumed that Tony was in his lab… but now they both had rings. A quiet reminder of what had happened.

But Vegas wasn’t the only surprise. Today, it was Babs backstage after the show. Zee had expected a series of questioning text messages or even her squeezing the story out of Dinah. “You know… I thought I saw you in the crowd. You should have just called me I would have gotten you in.” But Babs didn’t waste any time. And the offer was sweet. She was ready to support them or tear up everything that could digitally link them.

“This is… I’m still wearing my ring.” Zee looked around the back room and saw that no one was paying attention to them, Jana was worrying on cleaning up the stage and organizing everyone else to prep for tomorrow’s show. Zatanna rarely stayed after the curtain call, always vanishing into thin air and off to do whatever she wanted. “I’m not erase it from ever existing not he internet level of panic but — Babs, I’m freaking out.”

“You are.” Babs studied Zatanna’s face for some indication of what the words meant to her. Good or bad or uncertain, some twitch of her lips or furrow of her brow, if a smile framed the words, if they shook or the pitch went up in excitement. Something. Something she couldn’t get over a text, where Zatanna could tack on a smiley and Babs would never actually know. She’d left the ring on. She led with the fact that she’d left the ring on. That was some indication.

And Babs could’ve buried it, but Zatanna had never asked. Instead it was all over every social media site, on the lips of everyone with any affinity for gossip, and even those who couldn’t care less. Tony could’ve buried it himself if he wanted; even Zatanna had her ways, if not a little more mystical. She talked about panic, and yet the information was out there, and the ring was on her finger.

It seemed like Barbara was going to have to invest more time in getting to know Tony Stark. Beyond the schoolboy joy he expressed every time she approached him under the mantle of Oracle. “You must like him at least a little.”

          As much as Ted was into the spy and espionage part of the costumed-nerds club, he knew there was next to no possible way he could sneak up on the Clock Tower. Not only was it a literal Watchtower in Gotham with enough security to make the Pentagon staff collectively wet themselves, it had more eyes than the pair that sat in there almost constantly. Were he still traipsing around like a vigilante in the costume, he may have taken the usual, or rather unusual, entryway, but when you’re given access codes to the penthouse… Well, why the hell wouldn’t he just walk in? 

          Ted had a free hand pushing up slightly crooked glasses, his eyes widening at the array of technology before him as the doors slid open. He’d made regular trips in the past, even came a few more times than might be normal since he’d been back in the area, but the integration of new computers highlighted against the old cog-work… It was always a spectacle. Say what you want about Bats, he’s got an eye for artistic detail. He can remember sharing stories with his League squad about how if the old brooder hadn’t turned to a life of heroics, maybe he’d be one of those artist types. The memories echoed in his head like the faint clicks of heavy metal cogs and keys on a keyboard, and it made him smile all the same.

          His other hand held a leash, and a ball of carmel fluff. The dog in his arm wiggled it’s paws as it silently begged to be placed back on solid ground. Still, the Blue Beetle trucked on, raising an eyebrow at the flickering screens. “Hoping? Wow, boost my ego a little more, Gordon,” He laughed, making his way over to the console, almost immediately dropping the corgi-beagle mutt into the other’s lap. “And here I was, just taking Einstein for a walk, having a peaceful moment of non-hero stuff.” Though, it never stopped, did it? Not really. If it wasn’t the actions in the present, it was the memories of the past, of the fun he had, the thrill of putting on a mask and solving the problems of the world…

          “What’cha got for me, Babs?”

“Did I say Ted Kord? I meant Einstein.” Barbara wrapped the ball of fluff up in her arms, relishing in the way his entire body wiggled right along with his tail. It was the small moments that truly made the Clocktower feel like home. It was Jason with his legs kicked up stealing her food, or Dinah finding new and inventive ways to break in. It was Ted, showing up out of the blue with Einstein for seemingly no other reason other than that he wanted to see her. Because, face it, out for a walk in Gotham?

It made Barbara feel warm in a way she’d never admit. She loved her tower, and her array of tech. She loved what she did more than anything. There was a certain amount of power and satisfaction that came with having the world at her fingertips, webs stretching like a net over the entire planet. She could be anywhere, at any time, with anyone. But it wasn’t always enough, it wasn’t a substitute for the people who had full access to the tower, in person. It felt oddly good to know they still wanted that access, even when they could fire up any radio or comm link or computer and find her just the same.

“Out for a walk in Gotham.” She spoke to the dog, only the dog. “And he thinks he has me fooled.”

She gave Einstein a satisfied pat on the head before pivoting back to her wall of screens. Displayed was a topographical map of Genosha as it had been one week prior. Barbara knew it changed, that nothing was set in stone, and it wasn’t exactly her intention to keep Genosha under strict surveillance. But there was something that wasn’t quite adding up.