For Her
by Lyssa (lyssachelle@hotmail.com)

***

I'm a coward. I'm reminded of it every time Barbara wheels over to me, smiling 
at me in that way. The way that says, You're a good guy, a hero, I'm glad to 
know you... Yeah right. A hero who can save lives, put himself in the face of 
danger for someone he doesn't know and probably will never see again, but can't 
even be there for the one he loves.

I guess I really am my father's son. Bruce hides his feelings from everyone; 
disguising them behind his masks, under that cowl or his playboy exterior. Me? I 
joke. I laugh it up and make people giggle. It's how I deal with pressure. I've
been doing it since I was kid. When I was Robin, it always seemed to make
bashing that guy's face in a little easier if I made an awful pun while
I did it. Made it like some silly TV show. The brave sidekick helping his
partner, but keeping his sense of humor while he did it, making the audience
chuckle along with him. I swear sometimes I heard a laugh track during
those busts. It just made everything seem easier, seem not so scary.

Joking helped me deal with the fact that even though it was bad guys I was 
beating up, they were still people that I was hurting. You learn to get over 
that real quick in this business. But it's hard to deal with the first time you 
see that blood, watch some punk throw up his lunch, see a man's eyes roll back 
in his head as your left to his jaw knocks him out. Talking to an imaginary
audience covered up the sound of someone's nose cracking or his bones breaking.

I learned to get over that, to do my job and not be a sissy about it. I still 
made jokes, but they were more because I wanted to, not had to. Like a 
trademark. Hell, it was fun. I got tough. But when things in my life got tough, 
this tough guy went running. I don't deal with my world being rocked well. Kinda 
crazy for a former circus kid and current crimefighter, but I need stability.
I need to know what I can depend on. We may have moved constantly, but
Haly's Circus was always the same. The area outside may have changed, but
the tents were always set up the same, the people never changed and my
parents were always there, flying through the air with me. Even when I
moved to Wayne Manor, I settled into a pattern. Granted it was different
then average American kid's, but it was mine and it was the same. Alfred
was always there, Bruce, the cave...it was home. Then Titans Tower was
home. I had a new family and although I still wanted my old one, I was
settling into a routine and everything was okay.

Barbara has always been one of those constants in my life. From the day she 
showed up at Wayne Manor, a sweet faced pre-teen excited about baby-sitting at 
such a famous man's house, she's been there for me. God Barbara, possibly the 
greatest woman I know. I was in awe of her as Robin. She was beautiful and 
delicate and just plain female, and she could beat the hell out of some of the 
biggest and baddest villians around. The perfect woman to a 11 year old. I had
one of my first sexual fantasies about that woman, though I'd never let
her know that. She'd tease me mercilessly. Even when I got older I'd compare
women to her. Kory was the only thing that ever came close and even she
came up short. You never forget your first love. Especially if you're still
in love with her.

Barbara and I never went beyond friendship. I always wanted to, but my childish 
nerves kept me from confessing what I felt for her. I think somewhere deep down 
inside I knew that even if I did it wouldn't matter. I was just too young. But
even after I came of age and those six years were no longer an issue, it
was too late. We'd both moved on in our lives and remained just friends.

But not just friends, best friends. Barbara was still one of those things I 
could count on. She'd always be there, like Alfred, to feed me and listen to me. 
She knows more about me than I think I know about myself. And she's never been 
afraid to kick me in the ass, to say "Grow up and get over it Grayson." It's 
ironic that I needed that kick in the ass when I found out Joker had shot her.
No, had not just shot her; had humiliated her and tortured her and took
pictures so he could taunt her father.

I don't remember a lot after I found out. I do know that I broke most of my 
dishes and my television in the hours afterward. Hours of crying. No screaming 
though, people might hear and know. But lots of crying, the kind that makes your 
head hurt and you want to throw up and you're on your hands and knees on the 
floor and you have absolutely no dignity and you think you want to die but you 
can't because you're still crying.

Did you know there's different kinds of pain? When my parents died it was the 
kind that left me dazed, with a gaping hole in my heart. When Bruce fired me as 
Robin, the pain was burning. Hot and angry with a sick feeling in my stomach.
When Kory and I finally broke it off, it was just the opposite. Cold and
numbing, so cold I couldn't feel anything for a long while.

But when I found out Barbara had been shot, the pain was everywhere, like *I* 
had been shot. All over and indescribable. After the anger and the throwing of 
stuff and the just absolute horror, I felt like that bullet had ripped through 
*my* spine. I couldn't get off the floor, I didn't have enough energy to do
anything but cry and feel totally helpless.

But I wasn't helpless. I could have gone to see her. I could have been there to 
hold her hand and tell her it would be okay and I was there. But I just laid 
there on that floor. Some big tough guy.

I did go see her the next day. I stood outside her window and had every 
intention of climbing inside and playing the big heroic vigilante coming to see 
his injured lady love and tell her it's okay. But I looked at her covered in 
medical machinery and panicked. Wonderful Barbara, who could swing from 
buildings and beat up crooks and tell jokes just as bad as mine and put me in my 
place, couldn't even breathe on her own... If I could have run I think I would 
have. As it was I swung from the hospital so fast I almost missed the next 
building and killed myself.

I eventually went with Alfred to see her when she was a little more alert. I 
played the jovial yet concerned Dick Grayson, but it was all I could do to keep 
from bolting. Barbara just wasn't how she was supposed to be and that freaked 
the hell out of me. I think she and Alfred sensed how I felt; he never left me 
in the room alone with Babs and she never asked why I didn't come sooner.
Somehow that made it all worse.

Now she's Oracle and just as wonderful and strong. Physically she's the most 
muscular in her upper body than she ever has been; she's beaten me more than a 
couple of times in arm wrestling. Emotionally, just as comforting and deep, if 
not more. We've both gotten used to her chair, I try not to stand over her
when we talk and she berates me for doing so when I forget.

But there are times...when she's not looking...I feel that shame all over again. 
I've often thought that if I had gone to her as soon as I found out that I could 
have helped her. That my belief in her ability to heal would have been added to 
everyone else's and she would be magically fixed and be able to walk. But she 
can't and it's like it's my fault. Guess I get that from dear old Dad too. We
blame ourselves for things that we can't control. Babs would probably call
my guilt "ego", and that makes me smile. But it doesn't make her any better
or me any braver.

There are times when I swing through the Blüdhaven skyline that I close my eyes 
and imagine I'm in Gotham, and Barbara is right there beside me. That she's able 
to walk again because I loved her enough to heal her. That she loves me as
much as I love her and we'll always be together. That I'm the hero Barbara
thinks I am, the hero I wish to God I was. But as I land, reality hits
me as hard as the concrete beneath my feet. And I go on fighting crime
and trying my damnedest to make sure I'm the best man I can be. For her.

Fin