Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Kat Richards, because I promised 
her a dedication a month ago, and hadn't come up with a worthy one, 'til now. 
Also, because she helped me make this story not suck. This story is a 
departure from the kind of story I usually do, so feel free to keep eating.

Disclaimer: Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, and the barely-mentioned Bruce 
Wayne are property of DC Comics and Time Warner. I mean no harm and am making 
no profit on this unauthorized use of these characters. I'm a poor college 
student anyway, and suing me won't do much good.

***

Scar Tissue
By Smitty (smittywing@yahoo.com)

***

"Scar tissue that I wish you saw 
Sarcastic mister know it all 
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause 
With the birds I'll share 
This lonely view..." 
--Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Scar Tissue" 

***

"Stop that ant!" Barbara Gordon paused, with a cookie halfway to her mouth, 
and pointed to the offending insect, still within her reach. 

"What? You want me to leave my nice, comfy pillow to chase down a bug that--
what'd it do, anyway?" Dick Grayson grumbled, his head resting across her 
legs. 

"He stole my cookie crumb!" 

"Just a crumb? You have a whole cookie there. You want me to abandon--" 

"But Alfred made these cookies," Babs insisted, pushing Dick's shoulders up, 
"and I can't feel you there anyway, so get up and save it!" 

"Ok, ok," Dick agreed, good-naturedly. He was just happy to seeBarbara 
laughing and being silly, again. "Since it's from one of Alfred's famous 
oatmeal-raisin cookies." He sat up and located the tiny thief. Scooping it up 
in his hand, he rescued the morsel and presented it to Barbara with much more 
flourish than was strictly necessary for such an occasion. His fair lady 
studied the crumb judiciously.

"Yuck. A bug touched this," she declared, tossing it away. 

Dick dropped back on the blanket, covering his eyes with his arms and trying 
to mask his laughs with a groan. 

He didn't exactly succeed. At any other time, the manipulation of such 
expression would have been child's play for a protegé of the Bat. Not here, 
though, not now. Dick never could be anyone but his true self around Barbara, 
and he had no desire to change that. Least of all on a sunny spring day like 
today. He dared a glance over at Barbara, who was making daisy chains. She 
was stretched out, next to him, feet in front of her, her chair only a 
fewfeet away. The sunlight glittered in her hair and he leaned closer to see 
if her nose, scrunched in concentration, was showing signs of freckles. 

She caught him looking at her, so he kissed her, a simple kiss that was 
accompanied by a hand on her back, pulling her closer, as she turned on her 
side, but demanded nothing more. 

"What was that for, Grayson?" she asked, her eyes twinkling as she rested her 
cheek in her hand. 

"Just glad to be here with you," he admitted, twirling a lock of her hair 
around one finger. 

"Mmmm," she agreed, rolling all the way over onto her stomach, her ankles 
crossing with the natural twist of her body. "It's a perfect day for a 
picnic, and we have the place all to ourselves." Her eyes suddenly narrowed, 
suspiciously. "What'd you do, Grayson? Buy the park, so we could be alone?"

"Nooo..." Dick tilted his head, thoughtfully. "But now that you mention it, I 
really should. How'd you like to have a park all to yourself?" 

"If you want to spend your millions," Barbara told him, laughing, "I wouldn't 
pick a park." 

Dick chuckled, as an idle breeze ruffled his hair and lifted the back of 
Barbara's shirt. 

"Here you go!" she announced, cheerfully, presenting him with a ringlet of 
daisies. 

"I'll treasure it, always," he promised, settling the impromptu crown on his 
head. Barbara folded her arms in front of her and rested her head on them, 
enjoying the light-hearted moment. 

"You look silly, Grayson," she said, smiling. Dick just smiled back and 
enjoyed the warm breeze playing over the small clearing where they'd camped 
out. The sun shone warm on their exposed skin, and the wind picked up, 
blowing his hair, back from his face. Glancing over at his self-proclaimed 
Daisy Princess, he noticed the disheveled state of her clothes. 

"You're a mess," he teased, reaching over to tug down the back hem of her 
shirt. 

And then, he stopped. 

Instead of drawing the shirt down, his fingers crushed the fabric, then 
smoothed it upward. Oblivious of their surroundings, and forgetting their 
conversation, he drew his hands down, smoothing them over her back and to her 
hips, where he pushed gently on the waistband of her jeans. 

"Dick? Dick, what are you doing?" Barbara's voice held the faintest edge of 
alarm. 

"Shh…it's ok," he assured her, moving to straddle her legs as he examined her 
back more closely. The daisy crown fell to the ground. With fingertips as 
light as air and as gentle as a breath, Dick began to trace the spider web of 
jagged white scars that marred the otherwise flawless pale skin of her back. 

"No! Don't!" she said, quickly, when she realized where his hands were. Panic 
at the thought of anyone, especially Dick, seeing the evidence of her ordeal, 
rose in her throat. Those marks on her body spoke of much deeper marks on her 
soul-those made by the moments of helplessness that stretched into hours; the 
unbearable pain; the humiliation of the photographs. Things she kept hidden 
from the world. She was NOT weak! She was NOT helpless! And she was NOT about 
to let Dick Grayson think so. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, softly, his hands on her waist, 
holding her down. "I just-" 

"Get off," Barbara growled. She pressed herself up and pushed him away with 
an expert twist of her torso. She tried to give him her best death glare, but 
found her heart wasn't in it, when she looked into his shocked blue eyes. 

Dick looked at her in surprise, and saw the tears she was holding in her 
eyes. 

"Babs, I-oh, God, I'm so sorry." He reached over to her, grateful when she 
let his fingers graze her cheek. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think. I-I didn't 
realize…"

The tears spilled over then, more of a post-traumatic release than actual 
fear. 

"Babs, I'm so sorry…" He scooped her into his lap as she leaned toward him, 
and he held her close, as she got her shaky breathing back under control. 

"I didn't want you to see that," Barbara said, her voice small. 

"If not me, then who?" Dick asked, knowing he might not want to hear that 
answer. 

"No one," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want 
anyone to ever see that." 

"But it's part of you…" 

"But it's a part of me I don't like. I don't want to see it, and…and I want 
to be the girl you loved all those years-" 

"But you're not…you're the girl I love now. And if that scar is part of what 
made you who you are today, then I love that scar, then, too," Dick murmured 
into her hair. 

"I…I was so helpless. I hate being helpless, Grayson. I'm not helpless." 

"No," Dick agreed. "You're not…" 

"…and I hate that I was helpless then. I couldn't stop him from moving me, 
from taking those pictures…from taking Daddy…It's a part of me I hate." 

"It's a part of you that you've conquered. You've fought being helpless, 
you've fought being dependent, and you've fought being coddled." And now 
you're fighting being loved, he didn't say. 

Barbara allowed herself a small smile. "I'm doing ok, aren't I?" she said, 
resting her head on Dick's chest. 

"You're doing great," he answered, honestly. "All Bruce's body parts work, 
and he still can't make his own peanut butter sandwich." 

Barbara giggled, then sobered. "It scares me that you love me," she admitted. 
"Because I know you love me, no matter what…and that means I have to love me, 
no matter what. Even the icky parts." 

"Even the icky parts," Dick confirmed. "Except the turnips thing. I can't 
love the fact that you eat turnips." 

"You can love the part of me that's weak and can't keep others from hurting 
her, but you can't forgive the turnips thing?" Barbara returned. 

"Can you love the part of me that wasn't there that night to protect and keep 
that monster away from your door?" Dick asked, his mind returning to the 
first moments he found out about the shooting…lying on the floor, sobbing 
like he hadn't since his parents fell…the overwhelming guilt…the blame he 
laid on himself the days afterward… 

Barbara gaped at him. "Dick…" She didn't know what to say. She reached up and 
laid her palm against his face. "Dick, there was nothing you could have-oh 
my-Dick…" 

Dick took her hand from his face and kissed her knuckles. "I loved you, Babs. 
I should have been there to-" 

"No! No, Dick, I was on my way to yoga class, there was no way you could 
have-" 

"I could have made sure the Joker stayed locked up, where he belonged." 

"Dick, the only way Bruce even knew he got out was because he went to talk to 
him…You were in New York…I can't believe…" 

Dick pulled Barbara close to him and kissed the top of her head. "Coulda, 
shoulda, didn't. If you can forgive me that, I suppose I could get over the 
turnips thing." 

"Well, good," Babs replied, just a little tearily. "Because I love you too 
much to let a silly thing like turnips stand in the way." She took his face 
in her hands. "And of course I forgive you. I'm touched you-" 

"Shh." Dick leaned forward and caught her mouth in a firm, reassuring kiss. 

"Dick?" 

"Yes, Barbara?" 

"Can you promise me something?" 

"Anything for you." She slowly raised her eyes to look at him. "Can you 
promise me I'll never be alone, again?" 

Dick's heart ached. He could promise her the world, tied up in a neat 
package, with a red bow, delivered to her front door. But he couldn't promise 
to be around forever. 

"No," he said, finally. "I can't promise you that. All I can promise you is 
that I will do everything in my power to come home to you, every night. I can 
promise that I will spend our time together doing everything in my power to 
make you happy. And I can promise that I will always watch over you and keep 
you safe, whether I'm with you, or not." 

Tears welled in Barbara's eyes. "I'll hate not knowing if you'll comeback, 
and not being able to go out there and try to make sure you do." 

"You're always there, Babs. You're my angel in the night. I never go anywhere 
without you." 

"I don't want to be on the other end and suddenly get nothing but static." 

"I know," Dick said quietly, his hand stroking her hair as she rested her 
head on his shoulder. 

"But more than that, I don't want to get that static, and have regrets," she 
whispered. "I don't want to think, we could have been something really 
special, but I was too afraid to try." 

"We're already something really special, Babs." 

"Yeah," she agreed, a smile coming to her face. "We are, aren't we?" He 
hugged her tighter for a moment, then she spoke again. "So what's the moral 
of *this* story, Twenty-Something Wonder?" 

"Umm…that I should keep my mitts to myself, and you need to stop eating 
turnips?" 

"I don't know if I can handle that." 

"You're really hung up on those turnips, aren't you?" 

"Actually, the mitts were my main concern." 

"Oh, really?" 

Babs smiled and smoothed back a particularly stubborn cowlick. "Was there 
talk about you buying this park?"

The End