 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
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Author's Disclaimer: Don't own them. And don't have any money worth suing for. Just taking them out for a spin.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of the WB, Warner Brothers Television, Tollin/Robbins, and DC Comics. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. . This site is in no way affiliated with “The Birds of Prey,” the WB, or any representatives of Dina Meyer, Ashley Scott, or Rachel Skarsten. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
Author’s Notes: This is an alt-universe -- because Wade isn't going to die. But he won't get the girl, either. And, Helena had trusted Dr. Quinzel enough to tell her Everything.
Dedication: As always, this is dedicated to my very dearest friend Quire. I do it all for you, Mulder.
"Doppelganger"
by Ficmail
Wade, stalwart man that he was, hadn’t given up the ghost immediately.
Sure, all right, okay, Dick was still ensconced in a guest room of the Clocktower.
And Helena, ‘Baby Jesus’ as he’d heard Dick growlingly call her one evening, was still omnipresent. He’d hoped against hope, idiot that he knew he was, that he was wrong. It had taken only one evening, though, to find out.
***
Helena had suggested movies and Thai at the Clocktower on the next Friday afternoon.
Fine.
So they’d all—Barbara, Helena, Dinah, Dick and Wade—enjoyed a tremendous helping of Thai food before they’d popped in the first DVD.
Action. Of course. Because Helena had picked the movies. As soon as the first movie had come to an end, though, Helena had said. “Don’t know about you guys, but I want more popcorn.”
Barbara countered with a “Don’t know about you guys, but I’m taking a bathroom break.”
Helena had jumped up and had very casually asked Barbara, “Need a lift?” And Barbara had said, “Sure, thanks.” Which was world-shaking, actually. Barbara never let anyone help her, carry her. Ever. Anywhere.
Helena hadn’t hesitated, had picked the older woman up very gently and matter-of-factly, and placed her in her chair, before asking, “Anybody need refills?”
No. Hell no. The other three were too…something…by not only the accepted assistance but by the soft, sweet look this assistance had won Helena.
After the two women left the room, the three remaining spectators sat in silence for a few beats before Wade asked Dick, “She ever let you pick her up like that?” Dick was on the same wavelength as Wade…and Dinah, for that matter. “Nah, man.”
Dinah tried to salvage the moment with, “Well, you guys know…uh…she’s used to Helena helping her from back when…” The sentence died as both men looked at her—a look that said her explanation was just as lame as it sounded to her own ears. Oh well, she thought, she’d tried.
***
A few minutes later, as they’d rejoined the others, the three were informed yet again by the casual way Helena placed Barbara gently on the couch beside Wade that they were, and always would be, outsiders at a party for two.
***
After the movies, Dick and Dinah looked Helena’s way before going out on their sweep.
”Hell no, still on vacation, thanks. I’m staying home and relaxing with the kids. Feel free to call us, though, if you get into trouble.” After an hour and a half, Delphi alerted them to a silent alarm going off in a department store. Five minutes later, Barbara and Wade heard a rather nervous-sounding announcement from Nightwing.
<Holy batshit, Oracle! There are about…uh…15-20 guys with machetes. Do ya think Huntr-->
Machetes?
Wade could scarcely believe the speed with which Helena had disappeared. And they’d listened to the flurry of activity that followed, Barbara realized, with even more anxiety than she would have if the men had been armed with guns. Because guns were, well, sort of normal. Machetes though? Weird.
*****
When Helena joined Nightwing and Canary, she was astonished to see a shitload of guys wearing hokey martial artsy costumes and swinging, whoa—he hadn’t been lying—machetes. Machetes, for God’s sake.
She got their attention with a “What the fuck are you guys? A gardening gang?” As she’d swung into action, she quickly found that kicking an ass being protected by a whirling blade was a pain in the ass.
In the ensuing fight, any semblance of martial arts training the men possessed quickly disappeared as they became tired and scared. They started to swing their blades like baseball bats.
Helena heard a startled yelp from Dinah and saw that she’d slipped and fallen. She abruptly abandoned the three men she was fighting to assist her, since about ten of the guys immediately jumped to attack the fallen girl. After wading into that melee, she soon remembered a little fighting tenet of hers “Leave no ass kicking before its time.” What brought this home to her was the sting of a blade cutting her arm. And again. And her leg. Make that legs. Her back. Again. And again. It was only her meta-human reflexes that allowed her to react enough to keep the blows from being fatal.
After Dinah had scrambled up and Nightwing rushed in, she’d felt the sting of another blow as she whirled around, looked down at her tattered clothes and body, then charged the three men, shouting. “Do you have any (punch) idea (punch) how (kick) much (kick) I loved (throttle) this outfit?”
The outrage committed against her fashion was going to make cleaning up the rest of the guys not only a duty but a pleasure.
***
Barbara and Wade then listened to about ten minutes of tremendous swearing from Huntress and Nightwing, punctuated by an occasional high-pitched ‘Fuck!’ from Dinah. A low whistle followed hearing the last man go down and Nightwing said <Oracle, Huntress is cut up pretty badly. We’ll be right there.>
As they’d walked in, Barbara and Wade were stunned by the sight of an incredibly bloody Helena accompanied by two apparently untouched companions. Even her hair had suffered in the attack—looking now as if she’d used blood as a hair gel.
”Take off your clothes. Now.”
”God, I love it when you say that.” Helena’s truly mischievous grin was met by an exasperated blush from Barbara. “
“Now, Huntress.”
”Uh oh, still in Oracle mode, I see.”
Helena plopped down in a chair and took off her boots. As she began unbuttoning her leather pants, she noticed the slightly averted eyes of the men in the room. “Hey, I don’t think I took any hits in the ass so don’t turn away on my account.“
After undressing to her underwear, the extent of her injuries was startling. The cuts, the wounds, were everywhere.
Which scared Barbara. And which, idiotically enough, made Barbara furious.
“See? See Helena! This is what vacations do! You lose your edge. You get slop—“
Dick started to say something that was interrupted by Helena.
”Uh, NO!” Helena barked, ”Dinah slipped and about a hundred of them turned on her. Consequently, I didn’t exactly have the time to kick the asses I was working on as thoroughly as I wanted. I wasn’t sloppy, I was just—” she stopped, thought about this for a beat. “Okay, well maybe I was a little sloppy. I think the idea of our lovely young ward becoming deli meat freaked me out just enough that I didn’t care if I protected myself.” She turned to Dinah, “Nothing against you, though, D. Anybody can slip. You kicked major ass.”
As everyone watched Dinah grow visibly taller under the weight of that compliment, Barbara’s anger disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Over-protectiveness was not something she could exactly fault anyone else for. She moved closer, “I understand…let’s talk about it later. Stand up.”
Dinah, Dick and Wade watched as she slowly went over Helena’s body like an experienced groom inspecting a well-loved racehorse. Gently but firmly tracing each limb, the muscles of Helena’s back, her stomach. The two women were remarkably unselfconscious about it all—it was as if the other three weren’t even in the room.
“Head.” Helena leaned over for this order and Barbara ran her fingers quite thoroughly over the woman’s scalp. “I don’t see anything up here—why’s your hair bloody?”
”After the fight I was trying to touch it up a bit with my hands—then I sort of realized my hands were bloody.”
Barbara tousled her hair before letting her stand up. “I think you’re going to live but you’re going to need stitches in about twelve of those, sweetie.”
Helena yawned, suddenly feeling that low that sometimes followed the high of combat. “Alright, boss. I’ll take a quick shower and you can get to work. Make a night of it.”
Barbara’s voice was peeved but her gaze was incredibly fond. “Great…my kind of night. Me, you and the suture kit.” She shook her head and smiled up at Helena. “You know, sometimes I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
***
We do, everyone else in the room thought at once. It was obvious. Glaringly obvious, actually, to Dinah, Dick and Wade exactly what Barbara would eventually be doing with Helena.
Eventually.
***
Later, after showering and donning a fresh sports bra and a pair of boxers Helena had purchased in her 2.5 minute modesty phase during high school, they’d all retired to the workout room so that she could lie on the massage table for Barbara’s better access. Barbara began by injecting anesthetic into each wound in preparation f
