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Secrets
A story of the DC Universe
Written by Christopher W. Blaine as Grayson Drake
Secrets 2004
By CW Blaine writing as Grayson Drake (June, 2004)
Disclaimer: None of the characters contained in this story are my own and they are used
entirely for fan fiction purposes only. Don’t sue; there is nothing to have.
My name is Grayson Drake and I am a writer. This story may or may not be part of the
DC continuity; the intent is not to describe the past or a possible future, it is only to
entertain.
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Secrets 2004
I have a secret.
In fact, I have many secrets. So many that sometimes I begin to wonder if I ever
really have ever told the truth to anyone since the day my parents died. Not the truth as
in “you look nice” or “this tastes good”, but actually flat‐out been open and completely
honest to the point that someone would know me better than I know myself.
I sincerely doubt it. I strain my brain, pulling at the synapses trying to find one
individual, one other soul in this life I have not held anything back from. Nobody comes
to mind. Not Bruce or Barbara, not Wally or Kory…not even Donna, God rest her soul.
Sweet Donna, sometimes I wonder if it was right that we kept secrets from each other.
If we had been truthful about our real feeling, who knows what could have happened?
I digress, which I often do when I sit around thinking to myself. It is a habit I
picked up those many years ago after my parents were murdered and Bruce Wayne
took me in. He held out his hand and led me down into the Cave, which was sort of like
taking a trip into his soul. It was cold and damp, hollow sounding, but with the flick of a
switch there was light and suddenly it felt comfortable.
That day he told me a secret and it was the first of many that I have stacked up
on my soul in an effort to be a dutiful son and loyal comrade in arms. That day Bruce
told me he was the Batman, the dark protector of Gotham City, the mythological
creature that hunted criminals at night and returned at dawn to sleep in his crypt, or so
the urban legend went.
He offered me the chance to be his partner, to be his sidekick. I mean, that was
what I became, just like Wally became Kid Flash (sidekick to the Flash) and Roy became
Speedy (the sidekick of Green Arrow) and so on and so forth. But I really think there was
a difference between my relationship with Bruce and my friends’ relationships with
their mentors. For Wally, he had to keep his uncle’s secrets despite the fact that if he
had revealed to the world that Barry Allen and the Flash were the same person, they
both would have been hailed as heroes. If Roy had put in big letters on a billboard on
the highway that Oliver Queen ran around as Green Arrow when he was bedding
someone’s wife or girlfriend, then most people would have laughed.
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If I told a soul that Batman and Bruce Wayne were two sides of the same coin
then people would die. Innocent people.
The fact that my secret was so much more intense sometimes ostracized me
from my fellow sidekicks. Even when we formed the Teen Titans I was the “serious” one,
the “sullen” one; they never realized how much their jibes hurt. I wanted to tell them,
but Bruce would not allow it, not for many months until he had figured out exactly who
they all were. Deterrence, I suppose.
So, from the age of a child I was taught to keep secrets no matter what. Torture
and pain of death could not persuade me to give up the information locked in my head. I
kept the secrets because I wanted his approval and because I did not want anyone to
get hurt. I never imagined that secrets could hurt you as well.
Would you like to know the biggest secret of the super‐hero/super‐villain
community? It’s not whether Superman where briefs or jockeys; its that our very
existence is self‐perpetuating. You see, someone will get an idea or have a special power
and somehow get it in their head instead of using it for profit or personal gain (which
people do all of the time with their skills), they come up with this idea of with great
power comes greater responsibility or something like that. Its not that it is a bad thing,
but the problem is that once someone puts on long underwear and starts getting called
a super‐hero, then some criminal is going to come up with a way to overcome the do‐
gooder’s abilities.
Then the next thing you know, outraged citizens are putting on costumes,
exposing themselves to gamma rays or getting bitten by radioactive cockroaches and
you have hundreds of heroes running around, combating criminals that have to go to
extreme measures to ply their craft.
I sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t be better if we just hung up the costumes and
just let the cops do their jobs?
Again, I’m weaving on the road of the subject matter, but I get so very few
chances to really sit back and chew the mental fat. I don’t know why this particular
memory, this secret, has crept up on me now, but I suppose it was about do. Every
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secret you lock away gets out once in awhile and takes a walk around your brain,
screaming and daring you to let them out. Curiosity almost makes you do it until guilt
steps in and shuts your mouth.
My secret can’t come out though; too many people would be hurt. So I bear this
cross from my family and friends, which is ironic since they know the secret.
They just don’t know that I know.
“I just don’t see why we need her,” Robin said as he crossed his arms over his
orange vest. He looked up at Batman, who seemed to have shadows attached to him
because his face was nonexistent except for the piercing eye slits of his cowl.
They had been arguing for fifteen minutes, again, over Batman’s decision to train
Batgirl as a member of their team. For several years now it had just been the two of
them and things were going just fine, but then she showed up full of hero worship and
calling herself Batgirl; not Sparrow or Blue Jay. After all, he wasn’t Batboy and he was
offended that she seemed to want to take away his fire and move into his spot as
Batman’s right‐hand man.
The fact that she was downright gorgeous (and he knew what she looked like
without the mask; Batman had already figured out she was Commissioner Gordon’s
adopted daughter Barbara) did not help matters, especially when she flashed those
green eyes his way. “Not that this is a democracy, Dick,” Batman said in a cold whisper,
“but I never said we never needed to expand. Gotham City is a large area and you are
spending a lot more time with your Titans friends.” He let the statement hang in the air;
it had been a source of contention between the two of them for months.
“She’s not trained,” Robin replied.
“I know, but she’s an adult, over eighteen years of age,” Batman continued. “She
will continue to be out here whether we like it or not, so what choice do we have?” he
asked. It was a test of course. That was one of the secrets in being Batman’s partner:
constant testing. There was no right or wrong answer; there was only the answer.
Anything else was so much gibberish to the Batman.
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“Tell her father,” Robin suggested. If Jim Gordon were to find out his daughter
was putting on spandex and a cape and had started running around at night, he would
have a fit. He would have the guts to tell her to stop.
Batman seemed to consider the idea for a moment and that was all the time
Robin needed to see the error of his argument. If Gordon’s daughter were emulating the
Batman, then the fears and worries of the members of the city council would be
validated. There had been years worth of protests regarding not just Robin, but the
possibility that some young child would slap on a cape and jump from a rooftop.
Gordon would have no choice but to put an end to the Batman’s activities. “Fine,
train her, but does she have to act so…stuck up?”
“If you’re surprised that there is a woman out there who isn’t immediately
attracted to you, then consider it a life lesson.” Batman started to turn, but then he let a
small smile cross his face. “It even happens to Bruce Wayne once in awhile.”
Robin rolled his eyes at the pun and did not follow the Batman as he went over
to speak with Batgirl. As he approached, Robin noted that her posture changed at the
Dark Knight approached. “Suck up,” he whispered. She was absolutely animated by the
presence of the Batman, much the way Robin had been years before. Back then, every
night had been an adventure out of a storybook.
He still lived the adventure, but only now he had to share it with someone who
was a virtual stranger. Once he had learned that Batgirl was Barbara Gordon, Robin had
taken some time to investigate her. She was a true genius, already well on her way to
get her doctorate in computer science, even though her age was still marked with the
suffix “teen”.
And she was beautiful, but he reminded himself that he had already mentioned
that fact in his mind. The costume, with the way it hugged her dancer’s figure did not
help matters either.
She was a real firebrand as well, more than willing to stand up to the Batman
when he had first suggested that she give up the crime fighter lifestyle. Robin had hoped
to convince his mentor to be a little sterner with her, but that hadn’t panned out either.
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She was strong‐willed that was for sure and Robin suspected that it was a quality that
the Batman secretly admired.
Despite the rumors, the Batman was a passionate man. He laughed when it was
funny and cried every year on the anniversary of his parent’s death. He had likes and
dislikes and did not drink blood at night. His loves were his secrets and Robin had
actually made a game out of figuring out the things that brought his mentor pleasure.
Batman enjoyed watching the old Sherlock Holmes movies of the 1940’s starring
Basil Rathbone. He liked to have a brandy every Sunday night after his patrol. He was
particularly fond of listening to their butler, Alfred, hum as he worked. And he really
liked a woman with spunk.
The list of women that had captured his heart read like a who’s who of fiery
femme fatales: Vicki Vale, Catwoman, Talia and so many more. On the other hand,
Robin found himself attracted to the exotic like Wonder Girl or the new alien heroine
Starfire.
Of course, that red hair looked nice he thought to himself as he cast an
approving eye at Batgirl.
He even smelled mysterious Batgirl thought as Batman explained the night’s
training. She had not reached the point where he would allow her to officially patrol
with him, but he was getting there she could tell. He did not shake his head as much
anymore, but he was probably surprised by her willingness and ability to adapt to his
training regiment.
The martial arts were not so different from her aerobics and dance classes, just
with a little more intensity to them. The detective work was like trying to trace a
computer bug and it left her salivating for more.
Being next to his rock hard body was almost too much to handle though.
She supposed it was juvenile, being attracted to Tall, Dark and Spooky, but she
could not help herself. Oh, yes, Robin was a fine specimen of the boy who would one
day become a man, but Batman was already there. Physically he was intoxicating; the
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muscles on his arms were steel cords and his chest was something quarters could
bounce off of.
But there was an intelligent side to him as well, a mind that was familiar with
Shakespeare and with the latest in hip‐hop music. He could discuss any subject and
showed interest in even the most minor detail of her life. What young woman wouldn’t
be attracted to that kind of attention?
Robin, who could not keep his eyes off of the yellow bat emblem on her chest,
still had some of the immaturity that boys his age normally displayed. Again, she
reminded herself as Batman pointed off into the distance, Robin was not fully‐grown yet
and besides, he seemed to resent her presence. As an only child, she understood that
reaction and tried not to hold it against him.
It would help if he would stop looking at her boobs, she thought.
Emulating the Batman, she pulled her small cape around her shoulder,
effectively hiding her chest from the prying eyes of Robin and turned her full attention
to the Batman. His voice was strong and sure, much like her father’s and he also
possessed the bravery that she imagined her father had as well. Both men worked to
protect the people and serve justice; the stuff romance novels were made of.
The only difference was that she did not think about wrapping her legs around
the waist of her father. She grinned involuntarily; this wasn’t Arkansas after all!
“You job tonight is to keep up with Robin and I,” the Batman explained. “We will
be going slow tonight, but the pace will pick up every night afterwards working up to
our normal pace. We will not be patrolling the normal bad areas of Gotham.”
She nodded, understanding that he was not ready to expose her to true danger
as of yet, but her goal was to convince him she could do the job. She wanted this and it
had nothing, really, to do with her lustful fantasies involving the Batman (as if she were
the only woman in Gotham City have such dreams), but more of a desire to do
something to even the odds stacked against the good people of this city. Ever since her
parents had died as a result of her real father’s drunk driving, she had been raised by
her uncle, now her true father, Jim Gordon. He was the police commissioner of Gotham
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City and it was his job to capture the most evil citizens of the community. It was an
unenviable position to hold and all she wanted to was help her father.
The Batman gave her a way to do it without having to finish college, apply to the
academy and graduating from there as well. She could do something now and not be
constrained by such things as the Bill of Rights, which was meant to protect the innocent
and not the criminals after all. At least that was what she told herself each night that
she put her costume on.
“And if I can’t keep up?” she asked in her most innocent voice. She already knew
the answer but she did enjoy baiting him.
“You have to keep up,” Batman replied turning away. His cape made a slight
whipping sound, barely a whisper above the background, but something she
instinctively picked up on. Only people who got this close to the Batman would know
what that sound was. Many probably thought it was the flapping of the wings of angels
of vengeance or something like that.
An hour later her measure of respect for Robin had grown slightly. She
considered herself in pretty good shape. She watched what she ate, exercised regularly
and did not smoke (except for that one single joint at school two years before, but
nobody had to know about that!), but none of that seemed to help when it came to
trying to keep up with the Dynamic Duo.
They were like lightning crossing the sky as they shot lines from one building to
the other. Batgirl had to stop and look for a good place hold for her line and then take
aim, which was not always that accurate. She gave them credit for the fact that they had
run this course before and so they knew exactly where to shoot, but that still did not
explain their speed.
As fast as they moved, there was no way they could pause to scan for trouble, so
all they were doing was checking her stamina and she feared that she was falling
behind. No doubt, she thought, Robin was leading the pace, his youthful energy
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pumping his leg muscles into high gear. She knew that all of the training sessions she
had previously been involved in with the Batman had not been so quick!
Then again, maybe the two of them always went this fast. Certainly they had
years of experience under their belts and it was possible that they did not have to pause
to listen for screams in the night. Maybe the cries of the innocent were easier to hear
after a few hundred patrols!
When she finally caught up with them, hauling her tired body up an over the
edge of the Wayne Towers, she saw that they were only slightly winded. She
understood that what they did was more than just physical, it was almost like a religion
and she would have to take it seriously. Batman reached down and took her hand. He
could have jerked her up, much as any drill sergeant would with any raw recruit, but
instead he was gentle. “Not too bad for a beginner,” he said. It was a compliment and a
let down at the same time. She had been training for weeks and did not consider herself
a beginner.
It had not been so long before when she had, on her first adventure, taken down
the arsonist Killer Moth. She figured that beating a super‐villain qualified her to be
something more than a simple “beginner”. However, she was grateful for the helping
hand. “Thanks,” she replied as she tried to catch her breath.
Robin stood over at the opposite corner, fiddling with a pair of binoculars that he
had stashed inside of his utility belt. She considered her own belt for a moment and
then finally pressed the issue with the Batman. “Is my belt functional?” she asked.
Batman reached out and tugged it, sending an electric current through her body.
She wondered if she voiced her excitement by his reaction. “It seems to be sturdy
enough,” he said slowly removing his hand. “What sort of things do you carry?” he
asked.
“Oh, the usual,” Robin replied as he walked over. “Tampons, lipstick, perfume,”
he joked. Batman turned quickly and shut him up with a hard stare. The Teen Wonder
turned around and moved back to his corner of the rooftop.
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Batgirl was thankful for the save but she wondered if Batman would be angry to
find out how close Robin had been to being correct. His only mistake was that she did
not carry perfume while in costume. “What should I have would probably be a better
question,” she stated.
Batman rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to take a look at it and make
recommendations based upon your storage capacity,” he replied. “How much can you
handle?” he then asked.
She smiled. “Quite a bit.”
He was silent for a moment and she thought she detected the beginning of a grin
on his face, but it abruptly changed as his eyes flashed towards the sky. “Bat signal,”
Robin called out.
Batman returned his attention to Batgirl. “Robin and I will handle this; rest up
and I’ll check in on you later,” he said.
“I’ll most likely be at home in bed.”
“I’ll still check,” he said and she felt a slight thrill at the prospect of the Batman
peering in her window. What did that say about her?
Six months later Robin noticed a real change in the relationship between Batman
and Batgirl.
For his part, the Teen Wonder had been spending most of his free time with the
Titans, but not for any particular rebellious reason. The training he had received under
the Dark Knight Detective had prepared him for a leadership position and whether he
liked it or not, the Titans had begun looking to him as a guiding force. That put increased
pressure on the time he had outside of school and left little time for patrolling in
Gotham City. He supposed that was the reason why the Batman avoided full‐fledged
membership in the Justice League. Certainly someone of his mentality and dedication
would end up being a natural leader and then he would be moved away from his
mission of protecting Gotham City.
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Tonight, however, was something of a lark. The Titans had no business that
required his time and he had actually been looking forward to spending some quality
tome with Batman, but when he got to the estate, his mentor was already gone.
He had found the Batman on top of building at the exact time he was supposed
to be there, given the day, month and year. Batman’s patrols followed a certain
schedule but you literally had to be genius to figure it out without a written guide
(which Robin had). He had not expected to find Batgirl there but when he arrived, the
two of them were standing close together on the rooftop ledge.
Without listening to them, Robin guessed that their conversation had nothing to
do with crime fighting. Batgirl’s hand was one the Batman’s shoulder and he was not
making a move to put any distance between them. The Teen Wonder found that odd,
but discounted it. She had to still be in training and Batman would work hard to form
some sort of friendly bond. He could be a merciless taskmaster but he also could be
your best friend. It was a wonderful psychological tactic.
There was no possibility that he was going to sneak up on them, or so he
thought. As he approached, the neither Batman nor Batgirl turned to welcome him. The
closer he got, the more he found it odd that he had not been acknowledged. The
Batman always let him know that he knew he was there. Finally, Robin stopped a few
feet away and coughed.
Both Batman and Batgirl’s posture changed from semi‐relaxed to rigid in the
blink of an eye and Robin felt a flash of anger wash over him. It was obvious that they
had not heard his approach and it even looked as if they resented him being there. I’m
gone for a few weeks and he’s ready to replace me, he thought to himself. Unsure of
how to react or what to say, he tried playing dumb. “Imagine finding you guys up here,”
he said.
Batman nodded towards him. “Robin. You remember Batgirl.”
“I haven’t been away on safari, Batman,” Robin replied rather childishly.
Batman’s breathing changed slightly and Robin knew that his comment had not won
him any points. He instead turned his attention to Batgirl.
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Was it possible that she had gotten prettier over their separation? She seemed
somehow different and he realized she was standing straighter and with more
confidence. He recognized that look because he had seen it a hundred times in himself
when he looked in the mirror. The Batman was a master at instilling pride in you; it was
one of his secrets. It was easier to get someone to jump from buildings and to leap into
danger on a regular basis if they felt good about doing it.
“Hello, Robin,” she said in a voice that seemed to be filled with honey it was so
sweet. “I saw you on the news last week.”
The Teen Wonder nodded. “The Titans have been getting a lot of press coverage
lately. We’re bigger than boy bands.”
“Really?” she said with a half smile that made him suddenly feel very out of
place. In fact, he realized, he did have the sensation that he was interrupting something.
He had been fighting alongside the Batman for years, but now he felt as if he were a
stranger in a strange land. Not usurped, but more like a third wheel.
“Anything special happening tonight?” he asked, hoping to get some
conversation started.
Batman wrapped his cape around his form. “We think that Roy Johnson has
started up another distribution center in the old Farley warehouse,” the Caped Crusader
answered. Robin nodded and recalled the last time he and Batman had faced the
criminal.
Johnson had always wanted to be a super‐villain, but he had no meta powers
and he never had enough money to purchase the technology that would allow him to be
one. Instead he had hung around the various criminal masterminds and psychos of the
Gotham scene: Riddler, Penguin, and Two‐Face. Eventually he had branched out to
create a fairly efficient drug running operation that catered to the gangs of the Batman’s
rogues, allowing them to get their wares on the streets without wasting their own
manpower.
The Dynamic Duo had shut down his last set‐up a little over a year before. “I
thought he was doing hard time in Blackgate.”
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Batgirl replied, much to Robin’s consternation. “I did a little background check
and his lawyer got him off on a technicality. It seems that there was no chain of
evidence for the seized drugs between the Batman and the police. My
da…Commissioner Gordon fixed that by having the city council approve a measure that
will allow the Batman to handle drugs for the purposes of evidence collection.” She rose
up on her toes and smiled and Robin felt himself stirring in places that should have been
asleep at this late hour.
He couldn’t explain what it was about her that both infuriated and excited him at
the same time, and he looked over to his mentor, hoping against hope that somehow he
would be able to give him the knowledge he needed so badly. But the Batman was a
cold dark statue. “We were just discussing what we would do after we caught them,”
she finished.
“Do?” Robin asked. The Batman would be spending his time updating his crime
files in the Batcave and little Batgirl would be sent home to bed.
“Why are you here?” Batman asked, the question stabbing Robin deep in the
heart.
“I came to help,” he replied with as much strength as he could muster.
Batman seemed to think it over for a moment and Robin could tell there was a
fierce debate going on behind his eyes. What the hell had happened while he had been
gone? “All right,” Batman said, reaching into his utility belt to pull out a map. He kneeled
down and spread it on the rooftop while Batgirl pulled out a flashlight.
“I can’t see,” Robin complained as he squatted down.
“Then use your own,” Batgirl responded before sticking her tongue out. Robin
wanted to give her a kick in the butt right there, but his eyes were fixated on the little
pink organ sticking out of her mouth. Slowly, he reached into his own belt and produced
his light.
Batman quickly laid out his plan for the attack and apprehension, Batgirl
following his finger with her light. Even though Batman was speaking to the both of
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them, it was almost as if his attention to Robin was an afterthought. The teen knew that
he had to speak with him privately about what was the matter.
“Can I talk to you alone, Batman?” he asked.
Batman stood up and folded the map. “No. There is no time. If you want to talk
try being here more often,” he said coldly. Robin could not tell if he was making an
emotional plea or a simple statement of fact.
“Fine, let’s go,” the Teen Wonder said as he pulled out his line gun. He aimed for
the next building and fired. When the line took hold, he grabbed it and leapt off the
rooftop into the darkness, letting the wind of his fall rip away the tears that were
forming in his eyes.
No plan survived first contact with the enemy and that was true in war against a
foreign army and against the criminals of Gotham City. Johnson was not ready to simply
hold his hands out for Batcuffs and he was putting up the fight of his life. To his credit he
had assembled one very skilled gang of martial artists, but the Batman and his partners
were not pushovers either.
Robin used his arm to block a roundhouse kick and countered with a punch of his
own that sent teeth flying across the warehouse. The criminal gave a grunt and then
wiped the blood from his mouth, smiling. “Tough guy, eh?” Robin quipped.
The man reached for the gun in his belt and something black whirled by Robin’s
head. The man gave a shout of pain as a Batarang lodged into his gun hand. Blood began
to pour from the wound and Robin turned quickly to see Batgirl toss him a friendly
wave. “I hate it when she saves my ass,” he mumbled. He turned back to the criminal
and focused his rage on the man’s gut. Five punches and an elbow later, the man was
down and Robin was looking for someone else to prove his manliness to.
He stopped as he saw Batgirl backing into a corner, her costume ripped just
below the collarbone from a knife slash. Her attacker was approaching slowly,
menacingly and with a lustful grin on his face. Robin saw his chance; his want to impress
a pretty girl overriding his sense of frustration at having her save his bacon again.
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A dark man‐like shape dropped down behind the man. “Get away from her,” the
Batman roared, reaching out for the man’s collar and yanking back. Robin stopped, as
did two other criminals who were on the way to help their comrade. The Batman threw
the man down on the ground and stepped on his groin.
Then he moved into position to cover her and Robin found himself frozen in
place, rooted by his own confusion. Batman would never have done that for him over
such a minor wound. It had to be because she was a girl and he found himself trying to
relate the experience to anything he had done as the leader of the Titans.
When he was younger, maybe, back when he and Roy were fighting for the
affections of Wonder Girl. But that made no sense because Batman wasn’t interested in
Batgirl.
Was he?
The other criminals immediately surrendered when the Batman gave them a
final, cryptic warning. Behind him stood Batgirl and Robin saw the look in her eyes. She
then looked to him and her eyes flashed with confusion. “At least I’m not alone feeling
like this,” he whispered to himself.
Batman removed her blindfold and she took a moment to bat her eyes to adjust
them to the light. He was very close to her, so close she could smell him. It had always
struck her as strange that he always smelled like sweat and leather, but never
unpleasant. Even his breath was refreshing and she had often wanted to go through his
utility belt looking for his stash of breath mints just to prove her suspicions correct.
Maybe she should try; it would be a good detective exercise after all.
He removed his gloves and replaced them with latex ones from the first aid kit. “I
need to look at that wound before you go home,” he said. It was a true enough
statement because it was not like Barbara Gordon, daughter of the police commissioner
could walk into a hospital with a knife wound and it go unnoticed.
She reached up and undid her cape and pulled it off. “It isn’t that bad, Mr.
Batman, sir,” she said in a schoolgirl’s voice. “I am capable of taking care of it myself.”
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He shrugged and put down the rubbing alcohol. “Fine,” he said.
She reached out and grabbed his hand. “I was just kidding. I suck at first‐aid. I’m
more of a third or fourth aid kind of person.”
That got the hint of a smile from him and her heart missed a beat. He was so
gorgeous up close, so manly in the classical sense. In another age he would have been a
cowboy or maybe a musketeer, depending on your choice of romantic setting. And that
was one of her problems she knew; she could not stop looking at him as the main
character in her own little love novel.
She tried to guess what he looked like under his mask and imagined him as a
cross between some famous movie star and maybe Bruce Wayne, the playboy
billionaire of Gotham City that her college friends would fantasize about when they
were making out with their boyfriends. Batgirl found herself imagining the Batman
whenever she kissed any of her dates.
Batman moved closer and looked at the tear. “I can’t do anything with that
costume in the way. Can you lower it slightly?”
“Do you ask Robin to do that?”
“Robin doesn’t get cut that often,” Batman told her and that made her frown.
“It’s true,” he told her.
“I think you’re just trying to get me out of my costume,” she said.
He paused and there was an awkward silence between them. He had been
paying a lot of attention to her lately, but he was only doing his job, or so she thought.
His mouth opened and then closed quickly and she thought she saw a slight trembling
from his bottom lip.
Now it was very awkward between them and she felt very small, as if she had
just made the largest mistake of her life. She turned away, making up some excuse in
her head as she reached for her cape. Batman’s hand grabbed hers as she did.
She slowly moved her head to face him and she found his lips waiting for hers.
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In the darkness of the Batcave, Robin stood, wave after wave of hurtful and
painful emotions pounding against him, drowning his soul as he watched Batman and
Batgirl engaged in the ritual of love. Never in a million years would he have guessed this,
being replaced for a …a…piece of tail as Roy would put it.
As they twisted and turned and engaged themselves totally in the act, the tears
flowed easily. He saw his life changing, his entire world shattering into a thousand black
shards that could never be put back together to an semblance of what he had known
before. He felt betrayal, jealousy and all the things that the serpent had helped loose
upon the world in the Garden.
He wanted to cry out, to tell them he knew their secret, but he remained mute.
His silence was his rage and it would be the spark that would burn the bridges between
him and Gotham City. At that moment, he did not realize that the next few years would
see a gradual degrading of his relationship with the Batman until the Caped Crusader
demanded that Robin give up his costume.
“I know your secret,” he mouthed. “I know your God damned secret…”
A week later, the affair ended abruptly. Both knew that it was never meant to
be. The guilt that the Batman felt kept him from keeping his edge and he found himself
unable to look either Robin or Commissioner Gordon in the eye.
For Batgirl, she started to realize that what she felt for Batman was an
infatuation mixed with healthy respect. Was it so unnatural for someone to be attracted
to a person of great charisma, charm and power? But the price was too high. They were
allowing their personal feelings to intermingle with their professional responsibilities.
It wasn’t like they were in love or anything. In fact, it was the opposite. They
shared a bed, but no secrets. They made love with their masks on, as if they were trying
to make it seem like it was someone else doing it.
And then there was Robin.
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She hated to admit it, but she found herself thinking more about him. There was
someone who she could have a real relationship with she thought because once you got
beyond his slightly arrogant attitude, he was a decent guy.
Even as they agreed to stop seeing each other and to keep their relationship
professional, they had little idea of how much their affair had changed their lives. In the
future, Barbara Gordon would be unable to commit to a relationship with
Robin/Nightwing (as he would later become) because of the mask. When they would get
close, she would begin to wonder whom it was she loved more, the man behind the
mask or the mask itself. Not that she had a thing for guys in long underwear, but once
the mask is put on, you become someone else, like it or not.
For the Batman, he would live with the guilt of what he saw as a betrayal of
everything he held dear. Professionalism. Family. Friendship. He would push himself and
his next partner hard, maybe too hard. The second Robin would quickly become
alienated with the Batman and would die a terrible death at the hands of the Joker.
It was so many years ago and I suppose I still haven’t gotten over my initial rage
over seeing them together. But now that I’m older and have a few bad relationships
under my belt, I suppose I can see why they were attracted to each other. Bruce was so
lonely at that time and I was being such a little bastard, wanting to be able to come and
go as I pleased without considering his feelings.
That was because I suppose I was starting to think he didn’t have any, but when I
saw him with Babs I realized he was human again and I think I was more mad at myself
for picturing him as a mindless, cold‐hearted crime fighting robot than as the man who
had jumped over the gates to scoop me up in his arms when my parents were
murdered.
Even when Babs and I started seeing each other I still had some of that hurt left
in me. The problem was that I loved her so much that I couldn’t hold it against her. I
wanted to, I really did, but when I was with her…when I am with her…I realize that love
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can conquer all. As corny as it sounds, it is true. I love her more than life itself and I
think, maybe, more than Bruce sometimes.
That’s my secret.
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