FIC: Atone [BoP - Barbara/Helena]
Title: Atone, Complete
Fandom: Birds of Prey - TV
Pairing: Barbara/Helena
Rating: R, for the standard stuff
Originally Posted: Somewhere around '03?
Word Count: 1964
Summary: Helena faces her worst nightmare.
Birds of Prey
Atone
I wish I was more like my father. Funny huh? Never thought I’d ever hear those words pass across my lips. But, I do. I wish I could be soo obsessed with the ‘job’, so obsessed that my own feelings, desires, wants could be pushed down and forgotten. All so I can do what I have to, what I must.
But, I’m not that strong. I want, and desire, and ache so much sometimes it hurts. Some say that dark side in me comes from my mother. They’re wrong, it comes from Him. Mother was full of life, love, a joie de vivre so magnetic it pulled anyone within reach.
My dark side comes from Him. Revenge, violence, destruction. It’s hidden behind obsession with Justice. With righting wrongs, and keeping people safe. It’s there, hidden behind the mask, visible only in his scowl. The self-loathing. Hatred for what and who he is, clasping to justice as atonement. Destroying the bad guys is his way of destroying that part of himself he hates so much. But, you can’t kill what’s inside you, right?
One by one, they all came to him. One by one they stood by his side became pawns in his never ending quest for atonement. Blinded by ‘the cause’, ignorant of the ‘source’. One by one, they fell. Jason. Dick. My mother. Barbara.
I don’t want to be like him.
But I have to. For her.
A scent catches my attention. Her. She does it on purpose. Teases me with her presence. It’s begun. Like it always does. I lay in wait, body tense with anticipation, ready and willing for anything and everything.
She lands softly on the rooftop, boot heels scrunching on the tiny pebbles. Me in the shadows, she in the light. Red hair caught by the wind, a Goddess in leather and neoprene. She’s even wearing the yellow boots she loved so much.
Except, she’s no longer Oracle, or Batgirl, or even Barbara. This woman, the one who wears her face, smells like her, tastes like her, sounds like her, is not Barbara.
“Hello Huntress.” She smiles at me. The kind of smile only the insane wear.
“What do you want?”
“Pain, violence, death and destruction. You know, the usual stuff.”
“This isn’t you, Barbara.”
“How would you know? Then again, you never really knew me at all did you? The woman in the wheelchair, hiding behind her computers and her masks.” She taunts me with her words. “And you never really got to know her. But how could you? Had her up on a fucking pedestal so high God had to crane his neck to see her. Fucking pathetic. Always hiding in the shadows watching. Did you think she wouldn’t see? With your puppy dog eyes always whimpering ‘love me, love me, love me’. What made you think she’d love you?”
She walks towards a small sliver of light. No longer in the shadows. “Look at me now! I don’t have to hide any more. Don’t have to play by their rules. You know what the sad part is?” She walks towards me. I didn’t mean to step back, to show weakness. But, I did and now I’m pressed against the wall with her inches from me. So close I can smell her skin. She reaches her arm out, plants it on the wall next to my head. “The sad part is, you still want me. Even after I hurt you, your friends, strangers, little old ladies with walkers, you’d give anything and everything for one last fuck.”
Shame flickers across my eyes. I turn my head. Anything not to look into those green eyes turned dark with insanity. She giggles triumphantly. Reaches up with a finger, caresses my cheek. Purrs into my ear. “Just say the word, Helena, say it and I’ll give myself to you. Do all those nasty little things I know are running around inside your head.”
Her finger trails down. My skin turns to fire, feeling it as it cascades down my jaw, my neck. Caresses the valley between my breasts. It’s hard. So hard not to give in, give in to her. And I hate myself because she’s right. I do want this, want it more than life itself. Takes everything I have to remember this isn’t Barbara. Even if she wears her face. It’s not the woman who taught me about right and wrong. If Barbara’s in there somewhere, I know this isn’t what she wants, for her or me.
She pouts, pulls her finger away. “You’re no fun. God, you’re just like your father.”
She sees the flicker of anger in my eyes. The smile pulls wider on her lips. “Hit a sore spot, did I? Is that what you want to know? If my love for all things Wayne went so far? If he bent me over and made me do all the wicked little things you couldn’t? Maybe it’s not the Wayne’s that get me all hot and bothered, maybe it’s the Kyle’s. Your mother, she was one hot little number..”
“Jesus,” I spit, cutting her off. “Is there some clause that says once you go insane you never shut the fuck up?”
“Fine,” she sighs, “Have you it your way.” She rears her head foreword, head butting me. My skull reels from the impact, ricochets off the wall and I’m seeing stars. Her knee connects with my stomach, knocks the rest of the air from my body.
I throw my shoulder into her stomach, push the two of us away from the wall. It catches her off guard, but not by much. She rolls with the shove, falls onto her back and kicks me off her body. I crouch on the ground, low, body tense. She’s across from me. Eyes blazing in anticipation.
Then, it begins. Our nightly ritual. A dance of kicks and punches. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, chasing, pursuing, fighting. She’s strong, getting stronger by the day. For years, she’s trained me, watched me, knows all my moves. My brawn the only thing equal to her brain. It could have ended before, when I had the strength and the courage. But underneath it all, somewhere in there is Barbara and I can’t destroy her. Not sure I have it within me. So we dance, until our muscles scream, our lungs ache and our bodies hum with a craving that goes beyond violence, beyond pain. Taps into something primal in its rage, carnal in its intensity. In the end, we dance because it’s the only thing I know. The only thing I’m truly good at.
Except, Barbara’s better. Always has been. The kick comes from no where and everywhere at the same time and I’m sailing through the air. The wind rushes from my body as I connect with the roof. She pounces on my body straddling my legs. Her hands wrap around my wrists restraining me. We lay there staring into each other’s eyes. Rage mixes into something else.
She clamps her mouth onto mine. I taste her tongue even as my body attempts to buck her off me. She moves my hands until they’re clasped together. Her other moves to her mouth, pulls the glove off with her teeth. Can feel her hand, quickly moving down between us. The sound of metal unclasping unmistakable in the night air and I feel her hand on me, inside me. Sliding across the wetness I hate to admit is there. Realize the moan filling my ears is mine. She slides my legs open with her thighs, resistance replaced with heat and I open myself to her. Thrusting my hips onto her, driving her deep inside me. Need her inside me. My eyes clamped shut trying desperately to make it all some fevered dream. Need it to be a dream.
A hand in my hair, the fingers gripped tight. “Look at me.” She yanks hard, my eyes flutter open. “Look at me.”
And I do. Maybe that’s why I’m where I’m at right now. The city on fire, in chaos, me lying on my back on the verge of orgasm. All because I can’t resist the sound of her voice. Never could. Even though it’s tinged with madness and violence and pain, it’s still Barbara. I like to think it’s her staring down at me, that the smile’s of love instead of that other thing hovering between us. She kisses me, softly, gently, even as her hand thrusts inside me and we’re writhing against each other. I careen over the edge, arching into her, giving myself to her.
I’m not sure how long I laid there, body trembling and twitching. I can feel her pull away. My eyes drift open. She stands over me, replacing her glove. Stares down at me, the madness still in her eyes. She smiles at me.
“Maybe next time.”
I never thought I could hate Barbara. Not in a million years. But, this isn’t Barbara. And I hate her. For wearing her face, for making me love something that’s no longer there. For making me want her so much it hurts. I thrust my legs, sweep her feet out from under her. She crashes to the ground. A whelp of surprise escaping her throat. I pounce on her. The need a blinding wall of fire. Burning me. Until I see red. Until I’m nothing more than rage and desire.
My hands grope her legs, find the line of pants. Fingers digging into her flesh, I rip them down her legs. Can hear her laughter filling my ears, even as she fights me, bucks and writhes under me. Leather and neoprene bunched around her ankles, I slide between her legs. Towards her center, dive into her. Feel her clasp around my tongue as I drive into her. Her fingers thread into my hair, gripping me tight. Hips thrusting, she pushes herself onto me. Taste the heady mixture flowing into my mouth. Fingers sliding across the bundle of nerves, I push her over the edge. Feel her twitching on my tongue, writhing under me. Even after her screams die down and the only sound is of her ragged breathing, I stay inside her.
I crawl up her body, stare down at her. She brings a hand to my face, softly caresses my cheek. It’s short, and bright, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I stare into her eyes and realize she’s back, my life, my Barbara.
“I love you.” She whispers. She takes my hands and places them to her throat. “Please. I can’t do this any more. Please, Helena, end this.”
I can feel my fingers around her throat. Can feel the tension in my body, muscles tensing. I begin to squeeze. This is who I’m supposed to be. Defender of justice, keeper of light. Except, the price is too much. And the burden more than I can bear. My fingers relax. She gasps for air. Her eyes cloud. The madness returns. Barbara, my Barbara, is gone.
She cackles loudly. Mocks my impotence. Her fist slugs me across the chin, sends me reeling. She stands on the ledge, glances at me one last time before plunging over the edge. I run to the empty space, stare over the ledge. Can see her ten stories below running deep into the city, laughing.
I slump down onto my knees. I’m not my father. Tomorrow, I’ll begin to atone for what I’ve done. For the chaos my failings bring to the city. Tomorrow, I ’ll become like him. And I’ll bring an end to her. Barbara. Hide my sins behind justice, truth and light. Then I can atone for that. But tonight, I mourn. For what was.
And for what can never be.
END
Fandom: Birds of Prey - TV
Pairing: Barbara/Helena
Rating: R, for the standard stuff
Originally Posted: Somewhere around '03?
Word Count: 1964
Summary: Helena faces her worst nightmare.
Birds of Prey
Atone
I wish I was more like my father. Funny huh? Never thought I’d ever hear those words pass across my lips. But, I do. I wish I could be soo obsessed with the ‘job’, so obsessed that my own feelings, desires, wants could be pushed down and forgotten. All so I can do what I have to, what I must.
But, I’m not that strong. I want, and desire, and ache so much sometimes it hurts. Some say that dark side in me comes from my mother. They’re wrong, it comes from Him. Mother was full of life, love, a joie de vivre so magnetic it pulled anyone within reach.
My dark side comes from Him. Revenge, violence, destruction. It’s hidden behind obsession with Justice. With righting wrongs, and keeping people safe. It’s there, hidden behind the mask, visible only in his scowl. The self-loathing. Hatred for what and who he is, clasping to justice as atonement. Destroying the bad guys is his way of destroying that part of himself he hates so much. But, you can’t kill what’s inside you, right?
One by one, they all came to him. One by one they stood by his side became pawns in his never ending quest for atonement. Blinded by ‘the cause’, ignorant of the ‘source’. One by one, they fell. Jason. Dick. My mother. Barbara.
I don’t want to be like him.
But I have to. For her.
A scent catches my attention. Her. She does it on purpose. Teases me with her presence. It’s begun. Like it always does. I lay in wait, body tense with anticipation, ready and willing for anything and everything.
She lands softly on the rooftop, boot heels scrunching on the tiny pebbles. Me in the shadows, she in the light. Red hair caught by the wind, a Goddess in leather and neoprene. She’s even wearing the yellow boots she loved so much.
Except, she’s no longer Oracle, or Batgirl, or even Barbara. This woman, the one who wears her face, smells like her, tastes like her, sounds like her, is not Barbara.
“Hello Huntress.” She smiles at me. The kind of smile only the insane wear.
“What do you want?”
“Pain, violence, death and destruction. You know, the usual stuff.”
“This isn’t you, Barbara.”
“How would you know? Then again, you never really knew me at all did you? The woman in the wheelchair, hiding behind her computers and her masks.” She taunts me with her words. “And you never really got to know her. But how could you? Had her up on a fucking pedestal so high God had to crane his neck to see her. Fucking pathetic. Always hiding in the shadows watching. Did you think she wouldn’t see? With your puppy dog eyes always whimpering ‘love me, love me, love me’. What made you think she’d love you?”
She walks towards a small sliver of light. No longer in the shadows. “Look at me now! I don’t have to hide any more. Don’t have to play by their rules. You know what the sad part is?” She walks towards me. I didn’t mean to step back, to show weakness. But, I did and now I’m pressed against the wall with her inches from me. So close I can smell her skin. She reaches her arm out, plants it on the wall next to my head. “The sad part is, you still want me. Even after I hurt you, your friends, strangers, little old ladies with walkers, you’d give anything and everything for one last fuck.”
Shame flickers across my eyes. I turn my head. Anything not to look into those green eyes turned dark with insanity. She giggles triumphantly. Reaches up with a finger, caresses my cheek. Purrs into my ear. “Just say the word, Helena, say it and I’ll give myself to you. Do all those nasty little things I know are running around inside your head.”
Her finger trails down. My skin turns to fire, feeling it as it cascades down my jaw, my neck. Caresses the valley between my breasts. It’s hard. So hard not to give in, give in to her. And I hate myself because she’s right. I do want this, want it more than life itself. Takes everything I have to remember this isn’t Barbara. Even if she wears her face. It’s not the woman who taught me about right and wrong. If Barbara’s in there somewhere, I know this isn’t what she wants, for her or me.
She pouts, pulls her finger away. “You’re no fun. God, you’re just like your father.”
She sees the flicker of anger in my eyes. The smile pulls wider on her lips. “Hit a sore spot, did I? Is that what you want to know? If my love for all things Wayne went so far? If he bent me over and made me do all the wicked little things you couldn’t? Maybe it’s not the Wayne’s that get me all hot and bothered, maybe it’s the Kyle’s. Your mother, she was one hot little number..”
“Jesus,” I spit, cutting her off. “Is there some clause that says once you go insane you never shut the fuck up?”
“Fine,” she sighs, “Have you it your way.” She rears her head foreword, head butting me. My skull reels from the impact, ricochets off the wall and I’m seeing stars. Her knee connects with my stomach, knocks the rest of the air from my body.
I throw my shoulder into her stomach, push the two of us away from the wall. It catches her off guard, but not by much. She rolls with the shove, falls onto her back and kicks me off her body. I crouch on the ground, low, body tense. She’s across from me. Eyes blazing in anticipation.
Then, it begins. Our nightly ritual. A dance of kicks and punches. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, chasing, pursuing, fighting. She’s strong, getting stronger by the day. For years, she’s trained me, watched me, knows all my moves. My brawn the only thing equal to her brain. It could have ended before, when I had the strength and the courage. But underneath it all, somewhere in there is Barbara and I can’t destroy her. Not sure I have it within me. So we dance, until our muscles scream, our lungs ache and our bodies hum with a craving that goes beyond violence, beyond pain. Taps into something primal in its rage, carnal in its intensity. In the end, we dance because it’s the only thing I know. The only thing I’m truly good at.
Except, Barbara’s better. Always has been. The kick comes from no where and everywhere at the same time and I’m sailing through the air. The wind rushes from my body as I connect with the roof. She pounces on my body straddling my legs. Her hands wrap around my wrists restraining me. We lay there staring into each other’s eyes. Rage mixes into something else.
She clamps her mouth onto mine. I taste her tongue even as my body attempts to buck her off me. She moves my hands until they’re clasped together. Her other moves to her mouth, pulls the glove off with her teeth. Can feel her hand, quickly moving down between us. The sound of metal unclasping unmistakable in the night air and I feel her hand on me, inside me. Sliding across the wetness I hate to admit is there. Realize the moan filling my ears is mine. She slides my legs open with her thighs, resistance replaced with heat and I open myself to her. Thrusting my hips onto her, driving her deep inside me. Need her inside me. My eyes clamped shut trying desperately to make it all some fevered dream. Need it to be a dream.
A hand in my hair, the fingers gripped tight. “Look at me.” She yanks hard, my eyes flutter open. “Look at me.”
And I do. Maybe that’s why I’m where I’m at right now. The city on fire, in chaos, me lying on my back on the verge of orgasm. All because I can’t resist the sound of her voice. Never could. Even though it’s tinged with madness and violence and pain, it’s still Barbara. I like to think it’s her staring down at me, that the smile’s of love instead of that other thing hovering between us. She kisses me, softly, gently, even as her hand thrusts inside me and we’re writhing against each other. I careen over the edge, arching into her, giving myself to her.
I’m not sure how long I laid there, body trembling and twitching. I can feel her pull away. My eyes drift open. She stands over me, replacing her glove. Stares down at me, the madness still in her eyes. She smiles at me.
“Maybe next time.”
I never thought I could hate Barbara. Not in a million years. But, this isn’t Barbara. And I hate her. For wearing her face, for making me love something that’s no longer there. For making me want her so much it hurts. I thrust my legs, sweep her feet out from under her. She crashes to the ground. A whelp of surprise escaping her throat. I pounce on her. The need a blinding wall of fire. Burning me. Until I see red. Until I’m nothing more than rage and desire.
My hands grope her legs, find the line of pants. Fingers digging into her flesh, I rip them down her legs. Can hear her laughter filling my ears, even as she fights me, bucks and writhes under me. Leather and neoprene bunched around her ankles, I slide between her legs. Towards her center, dive into her. Feel her clasp around my tongue as I drive into her. Her fingers thread into my hair, gripping me tight. Hips thrusting, she pushes herself onto me. Taste the heady mixture flowing into my mouth. Fingers sliding across the bundle of nerves, I push her over the edge. Feel her twitching on my tongue, writhing under me. Even after her screams die down and the only sound is of her ragged breathing, I stay inside her.
I crawl up her body, stare down at her. She brings a hand to my face, softly caresses my cheek. It’s short, and bright, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I stare into her eyes and realize she’s back, my life, my Barbara.
“I love you.” She whispers. She takes my hands and places them to her throat. “Please. I can’t do this any more. Please, Helena, end this.”
I can feel my fingers around her throat. Can feel the tension in my body, muscles tensing. I begin to squeeze. This is who I’m supposed to be. Defender of justice, keeper of light. Except, the price is too much. And the burden more than I can bear. My fingers relax. She gasps for air. Her eyes cloud. The madness returns. Barbara, my Barbara, is gone.
She cackles loudly. Mocks my impotence. Her fist slugs me across the chin, sends me reeling. She stands on the ledge, glances at me one last time before plunging over the edge. I run to the empty space, stare over the ledge. Can see her ten stories below running deep into the city, laughing.
I slump down onto my knees. I’m not my father. Tomorrow, I’ll begin to atone for what I’ve done. For the chaos my failings bring to the city. Tomorrow, I ’ll become like him. And I’ll bring an end to her. Barbara. Hide my sins behind justice, truth and light. Then I can atone for that. But tonight, I mourn. For what was.
And for what can never be.
END