Work Text:
“I know that I did not ask you beforehand,” Barda conceded, “So you are of course free to decline.”
Scott stood on his tip-toes, peering into the large cage that his wife was holding. The cage that was squeaking profusely.
“You said they belonged to another teacher?” he asked, frowning at her.
“Katherine,” Barda said with a nod. “Apparently she was under the impression the next science teacher would take ownership of them, so she left them.”
“And the next science teacher…”
“Is deathly afraid of rodents.”
“Ah.” Scott scratched his chin. “And…Katherine can’t come back and pick them up?”
“She’s in Alaska.”
“I see.” He clapped his hands together. “Well! Guess we’re welcoming four new tiny, furry members into our family.”
Barda’s face suddenly broke into a wide, sunny smile. “It’s alright with you?”
“Why not?” he shrugged, poking a finger through the bars at one of the guinea pigs. “It’ll be a new kind of challenge.”
That, and Scott Free had never in his entire life been able to say no to his wife. Why do that, when he could do whatever she wanted instead?
***
They were temporarily placed on the kitchen counter. Scott and Barda both leaned down next to each other, peering into the side of the cage. Barda had to lean significantly farther.
“I guess they’ll need names,” Scott commented.
Barda nodded thoughtfully. There were three guinea pigs in the enclosure, as well as feeders and several little ornaments for them to play on. The reddish-brown guinea pig was noticeably the most active. It kept tottering into the little miniature house and then changing its mind and coming out again.
“This one,” Barda announced, “Shall be called Harriet.”
Scott snorted. “That sounds familiar. Is the one over on the right Stompa?”
“I was going to suggest Kathy, but that works as well.”
Scott giggled like a two-year-old. “No, no, that’s great. That’s amazing. Perfect.”
Barda shook her head solemnly. “We cannot really do that, Scott. What if she comes over and asks the names of our pets?”
“Then we’ll tell her and she’ll be so horrified she goes away forever and never bothers us again.”
Barda gave him an unimpressed look. He sighed.
“Darkseid’s demons take me. Our accursed neighbors ruin everything. Fine, fine, that white one can be Stompa.”
“And this one,” Barda said, gesturing to the speckled guinea pig that looked to be sleeping, “shall be called Bernadeth.”
Scott made a show of counting off on his fingers. He raised an eyebrow. “What about Lashina? Think she’ll feel left out?”
Barda grimaced. “I am choosing to refrain from naming a pet after her for fear that she would sense it somehow and come after me.”
“That’s probably a smart idea. She’s scary.”
Barda cleared her throat.
“Not as scary as you of course, my dear.”
“Correct.”
***
“It’s very cold out today,” Barda announced, holding up a hand to stem the flow of whining protests. “So we will unfortunately have indoor recess. But I hope to cheer you up with a little activity.”
Hopeful murmurs echoed through the kindergarten classroom.
“You know I brought my guinea pigs with me today for show-and-tell,” Barda continued. “But during recess, I’m going to bring them out of the cage and let you hold them and play with them a little.”
“Really?” Five-year-old Millie exclaimed. “We really get to hold them?”
“Please remember to raise your hand,” Barda instructed kindly. “But yes. If you promise to be very, very gentle.”
The protests morphed into delighted chattering. It made Barda smile.
“Everyone line up, please,” she said. “If you would like to participate. I’ll go and bring them out.”
The vast majority of the kindergarteners sprung from their desks and bustled about, attempting to form something that resembled a line. Barda made her way to the back of the classroom, where she had set the cage earlier. It was right beside the desk of Annie, the teacher whom Barda was an aide for.
She reached into the cage, gathering all three guinea pigs into her hands. With as big as her hands were, it wasn’t difficult. “Up you come, little ones,” she murmured, smiling as Harriet squirmed and emphatically sniffed at her wrist.
“MISS FREE! Sam stepped in front of me when I wasn’t looking! Now I’m behind him in the line!”
Barda laughed as she closed the cage. “Everyone will have a chance, Billy, I wouldn’t worry. But Sam, that wasn’t very nice. Please resume your previous place in the line.”
“Aww, okay, fine.”
Barda glanced up to find Annie smiling over at her from her desk. She was in the middle of cutting out paper shapes for an activity later that day; Barda was usually the one who oversaw recess.
“Yes, Miss Annie?” Barda asked.
“Hm? Oh, nothing. You’re just very good with them.”
“Thank you,” Barda said humbly. “Scott and I had never really had pets before, but we’ve quite enjoyed it.”
“The guinea pigs? Oh, yes, sure. I meant…that you were good with the children.”
Annie was an older woman, with short grey hair and wrinkles and sweaters that were always brightly colored. In incredibly weak moments, Barda could sometimes imagine that her mother had been something like Miss Annie.
“Oh,” said Barda, glancing back at the room full of rambunctious five-year-olds. “Oh, well…Well. Thank you.”
“MISS FREE! Recess will be over soon!”
“I’m coming, Billy,” Barda said, chuckling.
***
Barda frowned as she opened the front door to her house. There was a loud drilling sound coming from the living room, accompanied by lots of clattering. Scott was usually still at the shop when she got home from school.
“Scott?” she called, making her way towards the living room. If there was an intruder- or, god forbid, one of their Justice League coworkers- the Mega-rod would make short work of them.
“YEAH! In here!” was Scott’s shouted reply.
Barda came to the living room, paused in the entryway, and put her hands on her hips.
“Scott? What in Darkseid’s name is this?”
The room was a whirlwind of what looked like spare parts from the fix-it shop. Wood, plastic, and power tools littered the place, along with paint cans and wire mesh. Scott just smiled sheepishly and gestured towards the walls.
Barda lifted her gaze. Hm.
“We kept saying we should get them a bigger cage,” Scott explained. “Something nicer. And it was a slow day at the shop, so.”
Barda quirked an eyebrow. The walls of the living room were adorned on all sides with what at first glance looked like fancy shelves, and on second glance looked like a wraparound track for model trains. There were ramps and plastic buildings and tiny decorative figurines and altogether entirely too much stuff.
“For the guinea pigs?” Barda asked, speechless.
“Mhmm. Figured they’d have more fun running around up there than in their little cage.”
Barda snorted. “Scott…this is incredible. They’ll love this.”
“I hope so,” Scott agreed, dusting off his hands. “Or else I made a huge mess for nothing.”
“You love making huge messes.”
“True.”
“I’m going to fetch them immediately,” Barda announced, marching towards the kitchen. “They must be transferred to their new home.”
“Barda, it’s not quite finished yet!”
“Then I will hold them up and they will look at it. But they must see immediately.”
Scott chuckled. “If Harriet is anything like her namesake, she’ll tear it up completely in the first hour.”
***
Scott lay contentedly in bed, knocked out after a long day of fixing refrigerators. Some of them could likely now do things that no refrigerator should be able to do, but really that should just show people the high quality of his work. He smiled as he felt the bed dip, Barda settling in beside him.
“Were you playing with the kiddos out there?” he asked. By kiddos, of course, he meant guinea pigs.
She nodded idly. “The others were bothering Bernadeth, who clearly wanted to be left alone. I moved them to the other end of the room.”
There was something almost sad in Barda’s voice. Scott frowned. “Is everything...”
“They’re just so much like their namesakes,” Barda continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I used to... Well, I used to…”
“Separate Harriet and Stompa when Bernadeth needed some alone time?” Scott suggested helpfully.
She turned to look at him, a small, pinched smile on her face. “Exactly.”
Scott was suddenly unbearably sad for her. He had no love for the Furies besides detached amusement; he tried not to think of the past at all, really. That didn’t mean Barda didn’t.
“Darling,” Scott said slowly. “Do you miss them?”
Barda frowned. She stared at the ceiling. “I do not miss the cruelty of Apokolips, Scott Free, if that’s what you’re asking. I will never go back.”
“That isn’t really what I asked, though.”
She took a long, laborious breath in.
“I miss my Furies,” she said eventually, like a confession.
“That’s okay,” Scott assured, because it sounded like she needed it.
“I shouldn’t.”
“It’s really fine. They were your girls. You grew up together.”
“We did,” Barda said with a sigh. “It is…strange. To not have them nearby.”
Scott blinked up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head. A thought was beginning to form.
“You know,” he said cautiously. “I could maybe…plausibly…rig up some sort of communication device.”
Barda leaned over to raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you saying?”
He shrugged. “I just mean…well. I’m pretty good at tinkering, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Scott.”
“I could probably look into making something that could reach Apokolips without being noticed. A two-way radio, maybe. So…if you wanted to, you could talk to them every once in a while.”
Barda scrutinized his face skeptically, for several long moments. Then she reached her arms around him, pulled him towards her, and kissed him hard.
“You are amazing,” she said, laying a hand on his cheek. “And wonderful. And beautiful.”
“Not as amazing as you ,” he insisted, which was cheesy but he felt it was necessary. “It’s just what you deserve. I mean, you deserve everything. You deserve to go on bimonthly brunches with the Furies. I’m sorry that isn’t possible.”
“I wish it was as easy for me,” she said slowly, “as it is for you.”
Leaving. Starting over. Moving on. Forgetting the past. The words all hung in the air between them.
“Barda,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “There’s a reason it’s easier for me. Everything I loved on Apokolips is in this room.”
She kissed him again.
They settled into bed, arms around each other.
“You know,” Scott said thoughtfully. “I’m really proud of you. For taking care of those guinea pigs. I mean, that sounds silly, but ha. They’re so tiny and fragile and depend on you for everything. And you’re so gentle with them.”
“Thank you,” she said, and sounded genuinely grateful. “They are precious. Looking after them has been so rewarding, even when they don’t get along.”
“You’re very good at it.” They smiled at each other.
There was a pause.
“Barda,” Scott asked, feeling slightly shaken. “Do you…want kids?”