Gotham Tales - Trembling

By C.W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: Barbara Gordon(tm), Batgirl(tm), Robin(tm), Batman(tm) and Gotham 
City(tm) are all (c) 2001 by DC Comics Inc. and are used here without permission 
for non-profit, fan entertainment only. Use of these characters does constitute 
a copyright infringement, but simply because DC Comics Inc. does not wish 
exercise it's rights as the copyright holder should not be taken as an 
endorsement of this story. 

The lyrics for The Kid Is Hot Tonite were taken from the CD "Loverboy Classics - 
Their Greatest Hits" and is (c) 1994. They were used without permission, so 
please purchase this CD to keep them from attacking me....

This original story is (c) 2001 by C.W. Blaine. All comments, questions and 
concerns may be directed to the address above. Please do not archive without 
informing the author.

***

Trembling
by C.W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

***

Why am I trembling?

The thought echoed in her mind as she stumbled through the window, falling to 
the floor in a sweaty heap. She was lucky her father was working late, for the 
noise of her return to the Gordon household would have surely brought him 
running, service revolver at the ready. She pulled off the yellow gloves and the 
pungent odor of sweaty flesh trapped in leather assailed her senses. Rolling 
back, she laid back against the wall below the windowsill, trying to control her 
breathing that was erratic as the involuntary movements of her muscles.

Reaching up behind her, she tried to blindly grab the bottom of the window and 
shut it, but soon just gave up. The air was cooler than her body and it was a 
welcome relief. She looked over at the alarm clock next to her bed and knew she 
was going to be very tired the next day. She reached for the zipper on her side 
and removed the Batgirl costume. She was shivering worse now as she stumbled 
into the hallway, clad only in her underclothes. She made it to the bathroom 
without falling and gave a silent thanks to God above. 

She started her shower and finished undressing. The hot water did little to 
alleviate her quaking. She reached for the soap and couldn't hold it. Falling 
from her hand, it landed on her small toe and she cursed in a most un-ladylike 
manner. She bent over to check the damage when her posterior touched the cold 
shower wall, not yet heated by the water. With a yelp, she stumbled forward, 
hitting her head on the opposite side.

After all I've been through tonight...I'm going to get my ass kicked by my 
bathroom!

She rubbed her head and felt a small bump starting to form. The shaking had not 
stopped. Never in her life had she ever felt this. Yes, she had shook before, in 
fear and despair. When her parents had died, she had shaken and the first time 
she had encountered the Batman (but both of those were understandable), but 
never had she trembled so violently and at the same time been so...

Aroused?

Was that it; was that the feeling that was creeping slowly through her nerves, 
making her synapses burn? Is this what it was like when a woman was...horny? Was 
that the right word? She silently berated herself for trying to dissect her 
emotions, to try and play off her desire by substituting it with cool, nerdy 
logic. By no means was Barbara Gordon stupid, but when it came to the ways of a 
woman, for lack of a better expression, she was extremely naïve. While not a 
virgin (that was another story entirely), she had to admit that it seemed that 
men got a hell of a lot more out of intimacy then women did.

Well, until what happened tonight...

And I didn't even have sex...

But I'd sure like to now!

I think...

The shower went on without any further incident and she slowly walked back to 
her bedroom clad in a towel, her red hair dripping water onto the floor. She 
needed to brush it before finally getting into bed, though she didn't believe 
she would get any sleep. She was still trembling.

She hit the radio button on her alarm clock and immediately picked up the lyrics 
of the song playing. It was a favorite from her childhood, a little old for her, 
but still good. As she brushed her hair, the classic sounds of Loverboy screamed 
out the little speaker:

"...How do you like him so far?
How do you like his show?
How do you like the way he rocks
And the way he rolls?
How do you like his image?
How do you like his style?
How do you like the way he looks
And the way he smiles?"

She stopped brushing her hair as the chorus began and looked in the mirror. She 
was flushed, and it had nothing to do with the hot shower. She felt feverish. 

She felt ridiculous.

She took in a deep breath and counted to ten, a silly thing to do when you 
thought about it really hard. However, it seemed to help and she went back to 
her brushing. The nights' events kept playing over and over in her mind's eye 
and soon brushing her hair was more trouble than what it was worth. Disgusted, 
she threw the brush down and then turned off the radio. Turning the light off 
next, she plopped into bed, still clad in her towel, wet, stringy hair looking 
like a Medusa's nest. 

Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!

Cursing him did not make her feel better, as she continued to have hot flashes. 
If she didn't take care of it soon, she would burst, and she had few options 
open to her. As she began going over them, it became apparent that there was 
only one answer and her anger became even greater. She imagined him laughing, 
probably watching from the rooftop next door, and knowing what he had done to 
her.

And he had acted so innocent! Damn him!

She flopped over onto her back and pulled the towel off, then realizing she 
never had closed the window. The air was now very cool and goose flesh sprang up 
all over her body. She was angry and embarrassed, at herself and her situation. 
It wasn't that what she had to do was all that bad...she snorted at the thought.

I am only human!

She resolved herself to get down to business, so she could get some sleep and 
allowed her mind to drift back to only a few hours before...


"This is a little out your league, Bat-Chick," Robin said, a cocky grin on his 
face. Behind him, the Batman remained silent. Obviously, the youth took the 
silence as the go ahead to continue. "This is one of the toughest street gangs 
in Gotham, and they have to be taken down tonight. You might break a nail."

Batgirl wanted to slap him upside his juvenile head, but she knew he was laying 
the manure on thick tonight. He was trying to impress his Lord and Master. In 
the recent months she had begun to tag along with Batman and Robin, she had 
started to notice a change in the Teen Wonder's attitude. She assumed it was 
jealousy. When he was out playing "group hug" with the Teen Titans, she was 
backing up the Batman in Gotham City.

Of course, Batman did hang out with the Justice League now and again, leaving 
her to fend for herself.

"Listen, little boy," she began in her most stern tone. He immediately 
straightened up, which brought him about one inch shorter than her. She didn't 
know how old he was, but he couldn't have been more than 16, whereas the Batman 
seemed...ancient. "Batman says I'm good enough to come along, and that's the way 
it is."

"Who do you think you are, sister?" he asked, trying to sound manly, but looking 
funny with the orange vest and little green booties and shorts.

"Enough."

Both of the younger heroes turned to the Dark Knight. Robin was about to say 
something, but then held his tongue. Batgirl stepped back and then the next 
thing she knew, she was falling. Over the side of the Gotham Towers she had 
gone, so caught up in her rivalry with Robin she had failed to notice how close 
to the edge she had been. 

She immediately reached for her batline as gravity continued to pull her to the 
ground's embrace. It would be simple to throw it up and snag the roof. The 
Batman had trained her after all. As she pulled it out, fear and horror ripped 
into her brain as she saw that the line was tangled. She had failed the first 
rule of Super-Hero 101: always check your equipment before you went out!

As she plummeted to the Earth below, a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. 
She saw her entire life playing out like a videotape on Friday night. Suddenly, 
something grabbed her flailing arms, something strong. Her descent seemed to 
immediately stop, though her brain told her that was impossible. She looked up 
to see Robin's face, grinning at her. "Don't worry...I won't let you go."

The finality of the words, the tone of his voice made her believe right then and 
there that there was nothing more true. God's promise to Abraham was nothing 
compared to the conviction she sensed coming from this boy's eyes. Boy? No, this 
was a man, albeit a young man, but in every other sense, this was what he would 
be as he got older. 

She saw a thin cord wrapped around his ankle and she knew that even with his 
training and the flexibility of the line, he must have nearly torn his leg out 
when he caught her. Only two or three seconds had passed, she believed, since 
she had fallen and here he was, like a guardian angel...no, like a Superman, 
swooping to rescue her without a second thought. She saw the muscles of his 
forearms flex as he held her weight and she felt the strangest tingle in her 
stomach. Despite their situation, her eyes drifted to his legs, the muscles 
taught with exertion and strain and she actually found herself thankful for the 
little green shorts.

They started to move slowly up as the Batman reeled in the cord. He continued to 
smile. "You scared me there for a second." 

She tried to say something back but found her lips trembling. She made a sound, 
but she might as well have belched from the expression on his face. She then 
noticed his smell, a sweet odor that was not pungent or overwhelming. It was the 
most intoxicating thing she had ever encountered. As her mind started to drift, 
she felt them being pulled over the edge. As she lay there panting, he stood 
over her. "Thank you, you saved my life," she said.

Again the smile, but without the cockiness. "That's what I'm here for."

And she was sure that was the truth.


After reviewing the night's events and putting them into perspective, Barbara 
finally found herself calmed down and reached for the robe she kept on the floor 
(housekeeping just wasn't something she was very good at!). As she put her hand 
down, she felt cold leather on her fingertips. It was her glove, but her mind 
made it his. Was he really there? Was she just assuming it was her glove? She 
could still feel his grip, holding her arms fast. He had been so strong, so 
powerful...so sure of himself...

Her pulse began to race and all of the feelings she had previously defeated 
returned with reinforcements.

Not again! Damn him!

I'm still trembling...

-fin-