er, it's kind of a Gotham-y fill, I hope that's okay?
It takes a while, forever it seems, but Barbara finally finds her footing again. Checks into a discreet rehab facility, works the program, goes to the meetings even though she thinks the whole religious part of it is a crock of shit. It still helps her get back where she needs to be and for that she’s thankful. She gets clean from everything; the pot, the pills, the sex with whoever’s a willing, breathing body. She doesn’t return to Gotham until she feels like herself again, a classy bitch who takes shit from nobody.
It doesn’t surprise her Jim’s moved on. She never expected him not to, even if it does hurt more than she’d like to admit. They have coffee and he smiles at her and she tries to pretend it isn’t pity pulling at the edges of his mouth.
She doesn’t see Renee until she feels strong enough, which takes a bit longer than she’d expected. She doesn’t even know if Renee will agree to see her, going by their last time together, but she does and Barbara sweats buckets just standing outside her apartment door trying to work up the courage to ring the bell.
“You look good,” Renee says and Barbara’s infinitely thankful for her, for their history, for Renee knowing just what she’s been through these last few months so that she doesn’t have to go through it all again.
“I feel good,” Barbara says and pushes a strand of hair out of her face, smiling. She takes a seat, accepts the tea Renee made her, and readies her speech in her head.
I know you don’t love me anymore. I know that it’s for the best, that we can’t, we don’t work, but I wanted to say thank you anyway. For being the one to say it when I couldn’t. For stopping me before I went too far.
But Renee sits down next to her and cups Barbara’s cheek with her hand and says, “I missed you so much,” and Barbara physically feels herself slip. Everything she’s worked for the past three months just disintegrates from beneath her, the foundation she worked so hard to build just gone with five simple words and a touch from someone who cares.
She tries, she does. She clings to the threads of recovery and rehabilitation that are left and tries to pull herself out of the black hole that’s waiting for her, but she can’t. She’s not strong enough. She thought she was, but maybe that was just a lie she told herself enough times that she actually believed it. Maybe, underneath it all, she always knew what would happen when she came here. She knew she’d never be strong enough.
This was how it always went with them. Neither of them strong enough to stay away for too long, always returning, always dragging the other back down with them. This time they’d have their fun ruining each other and it would be Barbara’s turn to break it off, tell Renee how bad they are for each other, how she needed help. Maybe this time one of them would learn.
Renee pushes Barbara down on the couch and kisses her with a hunger that’s been building for months; she tastes of barley and smoke.
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fill Barbara/Renee
Date: 2015-01-23 06:10 am (UTC)It takes a while, forever it seems, but Barbara finally finds her footing again. Checks into a discreet rehab facility, works the program, goes to the meetings even though she thinks the whole religious part of it is a crock of shit. It still helps her get back where she needs to be and for that she’s thankful. She gets clean from everything; the pot, the pills, the sex with whoever’s a willing, breathing body. She doesn’t return to Gotham until she feels like herself again, a classy bitch who takes shit from nobody.
It doesn’t surprise her Jim’s moved on. She never expected him not to, even if it does hurt more than she’d like to admit. They have coffee and he smiles at her and she tries to pretend it isn’t pity pulling at the edges of his mouth.
She doesn’t see Renee until she feels strong enough, which takes a bit longer than she’d expected. She doesn’t even know if Renee will agree to see her, going by their last time together, but she does and Barbara sweats buckets just standing outside her apartment door trying to work up the courage to ring the bell.
“You look good,” Renee says and Barbara’s infinitely thankful for her, for their history, for Renee knowing just what she’s been through these last few months so that she doesn’t have to go through it all again.
“I feel good,” Barbara says and pushes a strand of hair out of her face, smiling. She takes a seat, accepts the tea Renee made her, and readies her speech in her head.
I know you don’t love me anymore. I know that it’s for the best, that we can’t, we don’t work, but I wanted to say thank you anyway. For being the one to say it when I couldn’t. For stopping me before I went too far.
But Renee sits down next to her and cups Barbara’s cheek with her hand and says, “I missed you so much,” and Barbara physically feels herself slip. Everything she’s worked for the past three months just disintegrates from beneath her, the foundation she worked so hard to build just gone with five simple words and a touch from someone who cares.
She tries, she does. She clings to the threads of recovery and rehabilitation that are left and tries to pull herself out of the black hole that’s waiting for her, but she can’t. She’s not strong enough. She thought she was, but maybe that was just a lie she told herself enough times that she actually believed it. Maybe, underneath it all, she always knew what would happen when she came here. She knew she’d never be strong enough.
This was how it always went with them. Neither of them strong enough to stay away for too long, always returning, always dragging the other back down with them. This time they’d have their fun ruining each other and it would be Barbara’s turn to break it off, tell Renee how bad they are for each other, how she needed help. Maybe this time one of them would learn.
Renee pushes Barbara down on the couch and kisses her with a hunger that’s been building for months; she tastes of barley and smoke.
Maybe not.