Batgirl and Killer Moth in:  Scar Tissue Showdown!

Babs released her tensed muscles and sank back into the mattress, her arms still wrapped around her secret lover, the tiny cot in the glorified storage closet Killer Moth called a safehouse creaking dangerously.  His cheek was pressed to hers and all sounds were washed out by his heavy panting right in her ear as they nuzzled before he slipped out of her, sending a brief shiver up her body that escaped her lips as a soft coo.  Pulling himself up, he rested on his elbows, tucked into her side, and looked down at her, nose to nose, and smiled.

"So much better than the Two-Face job," he murmured and leaned down to kiss her.

"I'll make..." she said between lip locks, "...an honest man...out of you yet...Mothy."

"Where's...the fun...in that?"

He pulled away and stared into her relaxed, half-lidded bedroom eyes as she moved her hand up to brush away her hair that had gotten stuck to his sweat-slicked face.  Gingerly she ran her finger between his jaw and ear, and turned his head slightly to get a better look.

"I never noticed this scar before."  She kept running her finger down the pale and rough line on his face, "Did I give you this one?"

"No, that one's been there for awhile."  He leaned back in to kiss her but she held his face still.

"Tell me about it."

Dru closed his eyes and sighed a little despite having long grown used to their non-normative coital and post-coital behaviors.  "I was sixteen," he started, looking up as if he could find the memory taped to the ceiling of his brain, "and out in a field drinking with some people from school as teenagers are want to do.  Then suddenly this drunk guy rolls up on me and smashes a bottle against my head while screaming 'Hey faggot!'  I came to a little while later and wound up with fifteen stitches."

"Oh my god, that's terrible."

"Ehh, after the lawsuit there was enough money for me to buy a car so I guess it worked out pretty well for being glassed in the face."  He shrugged and leaned down, kissing and nibbling on her neck, enjoying her twitch and trying not to giggle as his lips tickled her.

"Tell me more..."

"That's it," he whispered in her ear as he playfully bit her earlobe.

She shifted under him and ran her hands down his sides, "you've got more scars."

He sighed again, this time more of chuckle, and sat up, resting on his heels between her legs as the cot let out a dangerous sounding groan.  He gazed down upon her naked body and drummed his fingers against her thighs, "Where to start?"

She flashed a devilish and playful grin as she scrambled to her elbows.  Biting her lip in excitement over this new game she looked him over quickly, "That little patch of scar tissue on your left shoulder."

"Cystic acne."

"Boring.  Right forearm."

"Your boss throwing me through a plate glass window.  One on the bicep comes from the same window."

"The small ones around your eye."

"You ripped my helmet off and fractured my orbital socket with it."

"Wait, was that night we first hooked up?"

"...Yes."

"Okay, hmmmmmmmm," she dragged out, "you have far less than I thought you would."

"Body armor goes a long way."

"Right abdomen."

"That was...a bit of unwanted and impromptu surgery.  I actually lost a bit of intestine to that."

Bab's eyes grew wide, "Oh my God, Dru!  Who was it?  Dollmaker?  Professor Pyg?"

"Nobody important," he shrugged, "you wanna know the worst part?"

"What?"

"The hospital wouldn't let me take my appendix home in a jar."

Groaning loudly, Batgirl flopped back down onto the pillow, "You're the worst."

Laughing, Killer Moth leaned in and they kissed.  "You know," he said as he moved down to her neck, "you don't really have any scars."  Carrying on to her chest, his lips worked their way between her breasts as she arched her back.  "Practically flawless."  He continued down her abdomen, feeling her hands work their way into his hair and resisting the urge to blow a raspberry in her bellybutton as he passed over it.  "Except one."

Her hands tightened against his head, keeping him from descending any further.  "Dru, no."

"C'mon, Batgirl, it's just a-"

She tugged tightly on his hair, trying to pull his head higher.  "No."

He acquiesced with a muttered "fine" and she released his head.  Skipping over her lower abdomen and the scarred bullet wound he kissed her waist and pubic mound, stopping when he felt her hairs brushing his lips and he was eye to eye with the scar.  "It's just a bullet wound."  He looked up into her eyes only to be met with a grunt of displeasure and irritation, and her quickly avoiding his gaze.  He sat back up and scratched his head, Babs turning back to face him after a moment.

"It's not that..."

He pulled back one side of his mouth and pointed to a small, round scar on his shoulder.  ".22 Magnum, bullet is still inside me."  He waved his hand to his thigh and pointed out two more scars, ".556 armor piercing, icepicked right through."  He brought his hand up to his chest, and framed a small, barely visible sunburst scar above his left nipple, ".357 Magnum.  First time I ever got actually hit by bullet, long before I was Killer Moth.  Went through one side of a car and out the other, but with only enough force to get through the skin.  Any more and and I'd probably be dead."  His countenance softened to that of reassurance, "it freaked me out too.  Even after it healed I couldn't bring myself to really go outside for weeks, much less pull off a job.  No use pretending.  I can see it plain as day, plus the pretty nasty one left by the exit wound.  But you walked away from it."

"No I didn't."  Babs eyes went wide and she covered her face with the pillow.  "Stupid," she thought to herself.  She wasn't supposed to let anything slip, she wasn't supposed to open up, she wasn't supposed to be vulnerable around him.  She wasn't even supposed to like him.  But here she was now, at his hideout, in his bed, just finishing up pillow talk.  At least he still didn't know her name.  The pillow lifted from her face and he leaned over her looking concerned; she scowled and scrambled up into a sitting position, holding the pillow tight to her chest with crossed arms.

"What do you mean?"

"I was in a wheelchair!" she snapped, and immediately shut her eyes and grimaced in self-recrimination.  There she was again, opening herself, being vulnerable; she didn't understand why.  She knew she hated that look of concern he had on his face, one step away from pity, she knew that she hated actually wanting to talk about it, and deep down she knew that she hated herself for thinking, however briefly, that Killer Moth of all people was in a position where telling him about what happened was acceptable.  But all she could do was scream silently to her own mind as the words kept flowing.  "It tore out most of my spine and paralyzed me.  And for two years there wasn't a Batgirl, just some woman in a wheelchair.  Two years of nerve grafts, spinal column prostheses, medical implants, and experimental surgeries.  Two years.  Did Killer Moth ever wonder why I stopped showing up?

She buried her head in the pillow, the vitriol in her last sentence hanging in the air like a cloud.  She could see his face without looking at him.  Concern.  Sympathy.  Pity.  Always pity.  She wanted to disappear into the blackness behind her eyes.  She wanted him to disappear without a word.  She felt sick to her stomach.  She wanted to go back to them hurting each other across the rooftops and alleyways of Gotham.  She wanted to wash him off her skin and out of her thoughts.  She wanted to stop caring.  She could feel him touch her arm, her mind's eye seeing him lean in with that look, those emotions on his face.  His touch was gentle, hesitant, even tender.  She jerked away.  It repulsed her; he repulsed her.

"I'm going to get dressed," she responded curtly and left the bed, not daring to look at him.