#twistedmashup

The brick is rough and cool against her fingers. She heaves a sigh and slides to the ground, uncaring that she will get cold. Her mistress’s attention is not on her right now. She just needs a moment… A moment to be herself. Not Morgana’s champion or her voice piece, not the newest head of the Janus Order, not Nemesis… Just Barbara… Whatever that means at this point.

She closes her eyes and leans back, listening to the steady patter of rain against rooftops and cement and the distant hum of cars. The lone light on the street buzzes softly. She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly, taking time to just exist.

A soft sob breaks through the air. Barbara opens her eyes and looks around. There isn’t a soul in sight. After a moment there’s another sob, short and muffled. Whoever it is doesn’t want to be noticed.

Barbara contemplates leaving; finding somewhere else to be, but curiosity gets the best of her. She shifts silently to her feet and waits.

There.

Barbara follows the sound. She doesn’t have to go far, the source of the crying turns out to be the dumpster around the corner. Cautiously she looks over the edge and…

Finds herself staring into a very familiar set of blue eyes. Barbara and the Trollhunter share a moment of frozen shock.

The lanky blue troll is curled in a nest of trash. He’s holding his arm close to him, she can see that there’s an open wound on it through a tear in his dark blue hoodie. More puzzling the blood is red instead of silver blue as trolls generally bleed or purple like a changeling’s. Even though she’s seen him bleed she has never noticed that before.

The Trollhunter breaks out of the trance and growls at her. Barbara tenses, ready to fight, but he doesn’t move.

“What do you want?” He asks instead. “Are you here to kill me?”

She stills at that, unsure.

The troll stares at her for a moment longer before letting a harsh scoff. He turns away, curling away from her and into himself.

“Go ahead, do your worst,” He says in a jaded tone. “I don’t care.”

Barbara is left staring at his back in shock. This is so far outside her normal interactions with him that she doesn’t know what to think. Normally they start fighting on sight. She’s always hated the way he can sound so righteous and noble when working for an abhorrent being like Merlin.

None of that confidence is here right now. Despite being a six foot tall being made of stone, the Trollhunter looks so small and broken and defeated… like her.

Barbara sighs and pushes back her hair. It’s drenched now. The water has worked its way through her clothing as well, she feels even more miserable. She glances back at the awning she had been sitting under.

“I’m getting back under cover,” She says finally. “You can join me if you want.”

The garbage rustles as he turns to stare at her in shock. She ignores it and returns to her shelter, sitting against the wall again. To Barbara’s surprise she hears a rattle and a couple thumps and then a large form settles down beside her. She glances to her right to confirm that, yes, it really is him; she hadn’t expected him to actually join her.

They sit there in awkward silence.

“Let me see your arm,” Barbara says finally. The dark patch of blood on his sleeve is bothering her.

The Trollhunter glares at her and pulls the injured appendage closer to his body. She sighs. That was fair.

“Look,” She says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just…”

She trails off unsure how to finish that thought.

“I used to be a doctor,” She says instead. It feels like such a long time ago. Back before her world was shattered and she lost herself to revenge. “I can help you.”

He snorts at that, lip curling slightly to expose a sharp canine.

“At what price? My soul? Your mistress seems pretty keen on them.”

For a moment she draws herself up to argue, but just as quickly she deflates. There isn’t any fight in her tonight. She’s tired of it all; she wants to be whole again.

“I just want to do something right for once.” God, she sounds tired.

She can practically feel his gaze on her, assessing. For as brash as he often seems, the Trollhunter is not stupid.

“Fine, but no magic.”

She blinks in surprise as he holds out his arm. Slowly she reaches out to touch it. He flinches at the contact, but doesn’t pull away, so she draws it into her lap. She glances at his face out of instinct but he’s looking away. His shoulders are tense.

Moving carefully, so as to not worsen the injury or startle the troll, she begins to examine the wound. It appears to be a slash from a bladed weapon of some form, about a half inch deep and seven inches long. It must have been a pretty hard blow to have cut through his stone skin; even harsher if he had been wearing his armor.

She pulls out the small first aid kit that she carries for herself and picks out the alcohol to clean the cut. Once she’s done with that, she’s left hovering uncertainly. She isn’t sure that she has anything that would be useful in closing a troll’s wounds.

“It will heal on its own in a day or so,” The Trollhunter says indifferently, as if sensing her thoughts.

She doesn’t like that statement.

“It will heal a lot better if it’s closed,” She responds.

He grunts.

After another moment of consideration, she pulls out some superglue and carefully spreads it along the edge of the cut.

“This is going to hurt,” She warns him before pressing the sides together.

He stays tense and silent as she waits for the glue to set, once she’s sure it won’t come apart, she bandages it and then makes a makeshift sling.

“Put this on and then keep it in the sling and dry for your normal healing period,” She tells him, a little bit of her old “doctor voice” slipping back in.

He nods and then they’re back to sitting in silence. The rain continues without ceasing. A truck blows its horn. The Trollhunter pulls his hood lower at the sound.

“So why are you out here?” He asks.

“I needed a break,” She says.

He nods solemnly at that.

“Me too,” he says. “training was…”

He trails off and she figures that’s all she’ll hear of that line of thought. Only a fool divulges their personal issues to their enemy.

“Is it bad to have friends?” He asks suddenly.

She stares at him in surprise.

“I… I know my job is dangerous and that I have a duty, but… but,” His voice wavers. “I just… is it really that selfish?”

There’s a quiet desperation in his eyes as he stares at her, brows furrowed and pointed ears low in his shaggy hair. Her enemy is utterly vulnerable and all she can think is…

“How old are you?”

He blinks looking as caught off guard as she feels. Wariness returns to his expression for a moment and then he shrugs.

“Fifteen,” He says, voice slightly defiant.

Fifteen… Fifteen!

Barbara leans back against the wall, a feeling of shell-shocked numbness and disbelief running though her. She’s been fighting a child.

Wait…

“If I remember correctly fifteen year old trolls are still infants…”

“I’m not a regular troll,” He says giving her a crooked sort of grin.

Of course he’s not. She’s known that. She’d just never thought about what that entailed.

She runs her hand through her hair with a sigh, deciding not to pursue that line of questioning. She doesn’t want to hear more of Merlin’s atrocities right now…

“To answer your question,” She says instead. “I don’t think it matters if you’re being selfish.”

He blinks at this.

“Everyone needs friends, especially someone your age. It’s good to be a little selfish. As someone once told me: ‘Do what's good for you, or you're not good for anybody’.”

“Oh,” He says, he faces forward again seeming to contemplate this idea with a look of wonder and surprise as if no one’s ever suggested that. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

They sit in silence listening to the rain again, but it doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable now.

~~~~

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Author Notes:

This was inspired by a post @twistedmashup made suggesting an AU where Merlin decided to kidnap Jim as a child (x).

Anyway I have no self control so I figured I’d try to make a series of oneshots with it.