Suitcases and Stains


FANDOM: Birds of Prey TV

PAIRING: Barbara/Helena


DISCLAIMER: Birds of Prey and all its characters still belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers.

SEQUENCE/INSTALLMENT NOTE: continued from Forced Out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok this is, STILL, JUST a one shot thing brought about by the Infinite Crisis/OMAC/Year After/ and the stuff going on in the Marvel comic universe.

Yes it follows the other one shot thing I did (Forced Out - post number 13875) Yes it references and continues ideas and story from Forced Out. BUT, this is just a little vignette. Nothing else. Nothing more, no sequel or story arc or such (unless I can con ellie_no_name or someone to write it with me :P )

But as with Forced Out - I took the concept of superheroes being forced to reveal themselves and played with that a bit (okay played with it a lot and building it up more then in the comic book world as the loose plot for this story follows with the Brother Eye ideas and the Marvel universe - Superhuman Registration Act).

So the background for this story is the TV show Helena and Barbara. But the whole basic arc going on in the comics with the OMAC/Brother Eye and related plots and all that whacked sh$! is in effect here also, kinda.

Also this is me trying hard to write from Barbara's POV in a sense - not really (as you will see if you read). I am not sure if I got the voice right even though this is an AU BoP and it is Barbara under very dire circumstances. If anyone has comments/feedback, feel free to let it rip docwho2000 @, I really want to not just write but learn too :) thanks!

ARCHIVING: DocWho2100's Page @


From the Journal of Barbara Gordon


What kind of message do you think I'd be sending if I entered a relationship with a suitcase of secrets, a pack of lies and a stained soul?

And the only justification I plan on proclaiming is 'I didn't want you to get hurt'? A standard if she threw out at me I would beat down and tell her no way and make her know that was unacceptable.

Damn, looks like I add double standards to my packed bag.


Not even sure I can use that word at this point.

No, wait. I know I can. I know after what she revealed to me last night that she is using the same word.


How many years did we dance around, explain away, flat out ignore, deny and ever other damn synonym and excuse I can think of when it came to the topic of relationships.

And now, after one bloody, weary night, bam, we both are waking up with that word firmly planted in our minds and psyches as if it is the most casual and normal occurrence and has always been the case.

So much for the complicated, often times messy, dance of firsts...

You know what I mean; first date, first kiss, first nervous sweat, first bed full of clothes as you finally go with the outfit Dinah pulled initially from the closet...


So many firsts we frittered away. Frittered?

Dear Zeus, I've become my grandmother - where did that word pop up from?

Actually I am surprised I'm forming semi-coherent thoughts and somewhat linked ideas considering what the last few months have brought

And the last few nights.

Dear fucking Brontë Sisters and your dark dramas. I've got you beat 10 ways to Tuesday in the angst department.


Only Tuesday I was worried about errant bank transfers, goons muscling their way into art museums, Helena's lack of motivation and Dinah's C in World Cultures. Oh yeah, and a growing rumor mill; a whisper of things to come.

That whisper just turned into a foghorn that left me deaf, dumb and blindsided.

We're talking the entire defensive line of the 1976 Pittsburg Steelers taking me down.


You know, I thought the trip I was making last night was as far as I would fall. I was wrong; the all-knowing Oracle erred. All was according to plan until they took me to see one of the Examiners. Then the kid gloves came off, the stain under the well-oiled political machine peeked out.

Seems Batgirl is more than just another name on the list. She's a much juicer catch than I had calculated. Damn hidden variables. I always loved the intense surprise. Loved the thrill of the unknown. Being put into a catch-22 and having to fly to outwit the villain. Loved it all until I learned others could get caught and damaged by those hidden pieces I thrived on.

Hidden traps...

Just like that one lazy, extra space in a line of code. You spend hours trying to find it. You think the program and everything is ok. Then...

Holy toasted computer Batman, your whole system crashes....

Batman... Batgirl... so many crashes and past mistakes.

They say you learn form your mistakes. Well I have learned how to bleed, die and watch others as they bury deep the pain from my mistakes.

So many layers. I was given a glimpse last night, no more like a shove-this-tube-down-your-throat experience of some of these layers. Layers that tonight were explained to me as the tip of a very nasty, silent, dangerous, deadly iceberg.

It seems there are those out there who see a certain slice of society as the Titanic. And they wanna be the berg that brings it all down and sinks it to the bottom of the sea.

To cause a total system crash because they feel the system is corrupt. The only way to cleanse it is to erase and wipe away the structure. Then they can run their program and create their ideal hierarchy. A total system reset.

Under that is a layer, faction, who are trying to hack into that system and new order program that is slowly being programmed, completed and built. They plan on letting the iceberg sink the Titanic and then taking control of the iceberg.

Did I mention the group whose seemingly good intentions are being used? Oh yes, there is another layer to factor in, a shadow organization that may or may not exist.

And of course there is at least the fifth peel to be ripped away. Ripped away, like a bandaid, do it fast and painful, or slow and subtle?

But where was I, Oh yes... The fifth wheel always turning and scheming. This wheel though is trying to counter what the other layers are doing... well supposedly they are.

They, we... No... They are the ones trying to keep the system from being destroyed; they who believe in preservation of a good ideal or is it more they believe in self-preservation? Well preservation is factored in there somewhere.


Hmmm so much is funny yet I seem to have forgotten how to laugh.

But not one of those complex layers talks about why the layer/group exists... The people.

Not one conniving assemblage recognizes where this all should be leading, no, only the status quo or system is to be preserved. People are simply the fuel and fodder for the great machine. Consumable, replaceable, but...


That was one of the words I heard last night and earlier tonight.

Earlier tonight when I began my collection of double standards. I took my comms offline; muted my microphone as Helena and Dinah did their sweeps. I was treated to a special visit. Ain't I special...

But I kept the conversation offline.

Something if either one of them ever do, I'll pull them from sweeps and make them review protocol and procedure until they beg for mercy.

But it was better to keep them out of the loop

Better... What a poorly defined word, I think Webster needs to revisit the concept of better.

But better to not let them listen as the sacrificial lamb was set up, the one-way ticket bought, the 'Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect 200 dollars' card drawn.

I never figured myself for a martyr, actually I think scapegoat may be a better word. But, somehow, like Frodo and so many others, I've been set up. Why is a very bad version of "The Custodian" running through my mind right now? Somehow the fifth wheel expects me to follow the footsteps of Sydney Carton while they play Darney and get to run home in the end to their Lucie. Maybe I will surprise them all and pull a Manette.

But for now, all they see is what they need. The fall guy.

The one who can get inside all of the layers and keep them distracted, feed the berg and other layers the things I am told to do. Let the tormentors dance around their victory of bringing down the "queen" while the pawns and knights checkmate the king.

The three of them stood there larger than life, their imposing figures coming over my monitor. Telling me things I already knew as well as things I did not know regarding how far this weed has spread and how strong it has become.

They told me what they think has happened to the few who have agreed to go public, have gone in to register. Those that have now become liabilities that can point out others whose intentions have always been only to fight back the dark and save humanity.

They told me of a plan, an idea, a possible way to destroy the iceberg. And all it would take would be a few well-placed individuals. Well one specific individual. A crime fighter from the past that would have enough clout to deceive. To let the establishment think the tortured soul would lead the destroyers to other crime-fighters and bring others to them.

Someone who is broken mentally and physically because of a green- haired man and thus should be easy to control. Someone, who because of one horrific night, would have a psychological profile that would seem to indicate she is a perfect candidate for a secret program they have developed. A wolf they can convert, manipulate and turn loose in the hen house.

I told them to give me the night to consider, to calculate the 1000s of ways I will die. They understood and left me to my routines.

It didn't take me too many keystrokes to find the first pieces of the game. The darker elements spreading like the stain on a table cloth when someone knocks over a wine glass. Seems the visit tonight was more of an afterthought type of visit. Certainly not a visit to ask if I would be interested in participating in this plan doomed to fail.

Seems their group is desperate and someone had already leaked files to the Committee. I found that one Barbara Gordon is on a schedule. I'm all set to be notified I can begin the newly formed Rehabilitation program next rotation.

Even those fighting to protect the current system are lying and weaving. As always I am alone...

No... I'm not.

I heard a footfall out on the balcony just now. She's waiting.

I'm going to abandon her. I'm going to destroy her. I need her. I will go to her.

The thought of those strong arms holding me. Those full lips whispering, or kissing or gliding over my skin. Fingers teasing, touching, exploring. Those are the things that I know are truth.

Everything else, I'll pack away in my suitcase.

I think I'm going to need a footlocker not a suitcase before this is done...

continued in Keys to the Kingdom