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In a city like Gotham, it was hard to find time to appreciate silence.
Cassandra had spent her life wallowing in it. For years it had been all she had known. Her father had been resolute in his beliefs. Ra’s al Ghul had wanted a bodyguard that could strike down a man before he even made it through the door. Words were not a necessity. In fact, they were a burden.
“There is no such thing as talking your way out of a situation, girl,” Her father had warned her. It had been one of the many times she had trained with him, far away in the mountains where no one would think to check. Even Batman had never found their home. “Talking only delays your battle. Strike fast with your fists and not your tongue.”
And Cassandra, who had known no life with words, had simply nodded.
She stood upon the gargoyle, allowing the cold winds to bite at her cheeks. The cloth mask she wore wrapped around the lower half of her face protected her lips from being torn open by the breeze.
Tonight, Gotham was quiet. Unusually quiet. But not in a bad way. She would have felt the difference. The silence did not claw at her. Instead it purred, content and sleepy. A city slumbering in the darkness.
The boys had excused themselves from patrol early. Bruce had seen no point in staying out with the streets so peaceful. Tim had agreed, though his sagging shoulders told Cassandra that he was just saying it so he had an excuse to collapse into bed, where he likely would not move until the afternoon. Damian had looked like he was about to protest, but one stern gaze from his father had changed his mind quickly.
Which left Cassandra out alone. Bruce knew better than to push with her. He was a smart man, a smart father. He knew which children would listen and which ones would refuse. He might have been able to convince Tim or Damian, or even Steph or Dick if they had been out tonight. But when it came to Cassandra and Jason, he never pushed too far. It was different. They were different.
She missed having Jason with them tonight. The boy who was not quite her brother but could very well be. His family was confusing. All jumbled up and tangled in a knot. What must it be like, to be raised by a mother who was not your mother, then to find a different mother, only for her to sell you out? Oh, and also, possibly not your birth mother either.
Cassandra closed her eyes and leaned back against the stone wall of the building. It might have been Gotham City Bank. Or maybe the hospital. She wasn’t sure how far out she had travelled.
She had no time to lean down and check. Something shadowy slipped across the rooftop, and the silence broke.
Her eyes snapped open as she used the gargoyle as a vantage point, leaping onto a smaller rooftop. It was a flat surface, good for fighting. Her childhood had prepared her for situations like this, a little too much. Cassandra’s body braced in her fighting stance without hesitation, even against her will almost.
A soft laugh echoed above her. One she remembered. And then the figure dropped down.
“Oh, little one. You still hold your head too low.”
“Not your city,” Cassandra stated. She hated the way her head shot up, how easy it was to listen to the woman’s instructions. “Go.”
“What kind of mother would pass through Gotham without saying hello to their daughter?” Shiva asked, batting her eyes innocently.
“Not yours,” Was all Cassandra would say. Shiva had birthed her, but never had a hand in raising her. That had all been her father. And then once, it wasn’t him, it was Bruce. She knew only fathers, and no mothers. Why should she? Her mother was a killer.
Shiva’s face remained as impassive as ever. The woman could be in pain, tortured beyond sanity and still remain cold and composed. It was the way of the League. The way Cassandra had been raised almost her whole life.
Her mother stalked the rooftop, peering over the edge at the ground. She sighed deeply, her arms crossed. “You may relax, Cassandra. I am not here to fight.”
“Why?”
Shiva tossed her long black hair back. The hair she never tied up. Perhaps because there was no need; no man got close enough to use it against her. “The League’s business is not with Gotham tonight. Only with the woman hiding within it’s walls.”
Cassandra’s head tilted. She scoured her memory for anything strange that may have occurred recently within Gotham, but found nothing. Batman had not mentioned suspicious activity.
Shiva continued, “You have my word that the League’s business will not affect anyone in the city. We seek Talia, and Talia alone.”
It made sense now. Damian’s murderous mother. She had never met Talia, knew only rumours and crude insults from Jason and Selina. The woman cared for Damian to the extent that he was her beloved’s heir. Aside from that, she was a ruthless assassin desperate to rule the League her father refused her.
Cassandra relaxed, dropping her arms to her sides. Still, she kept an ear out. Shiva would move fast if she wanted to strike, but a life of silence meant that Cassandra knew the familiar sound of a person changing their stance, even by a fraction. The gravel would shift before Shiva could leap into action.
Shiva’s smile returned, as predatory as ever. The woman may have even believed it was a kind smile. Had she ever been capable of kindness? “Are you well, Cassandra?”
And Cassandra, who had never longed for a relationship with her mother, had never acknowledged her role in her life, replied, “Very.” She had no idea why. Cassandra had never mattered to Shiva before. She had carried her, birthed her, and then dumped her on David Cain’s lap and returned to her duties. A promise she had made, and kept her end of the bargain for. Children were not part of Shiva’s plans. Children got in the way.
But Cassandra was an adult now. Well, almost. 17 was old enough to no longer be a child in Shiva’s eyes. Perhaps she felt it was easier to wait until Cassandra was able to handle the life Shiva led.
Something alien rippled through Shiva’s face. Cassandra grasped at the emotion in the woman’s eyes, held onto it and examined it better than any detective could. Pain. “And how is Jason?”
The question baffled Cassandra for a brief moment. She actually had to shake herself back into reality.
Shiva had told Bruce that Jason was never hers, back when the hulking man had been a bright-faced Robin. It had hurt Jason, so desperate to find the woman who had given birth to him. Even now, Lady Shiva was a sore subject in Wayne Manor.
But Cassandra also knew that Shiva had volunteered to train Jason. That she was one of the few masters Jason was not ordered to assassinate after their training was complete. That had to mean something .
“Not here,” Was all Cassandra replied. It was not her duty to inform Shiva of Jason’s wellbeing. She wouldn’t do that to him.
When Shiva replied, there was an undercurrent of disappointment in her voice. “I see. Well, I shall take my leave. I’m sure you’ll be reporting back to Batman once I’m gone, so we won’t stay long,” She approached the edge of the rooftop. Before Shiva could take the leap, she turned to look at Cassandra. Her dark eyes scanned her face, like she was trying to burn Cassandra’s features -her mother’s features- into her memory. “Goodbye, little one.”
And then her mother was gone.
A warmth spread in Cassandra’s belly. It tickled a little, fluttering like moths. She skipped with childlike abandon to the roof ledge, the very same ledge Shiva had leapt from, and pulled out her grappling hook.
Shiva had been right. Cassandra would inform Bruce of everything that had been said. Except for the last bittersweet moments. Those were for Cassandra. And perhaps Jason, if he ever showed his face at the Manor again.
As she swung through the skies, Cassandra broke her own silence and laughed.
Her mother may be a cruel assassin. And her father a brutal criminal. But in Gotham she had a family to call her own, who loved and accepted her. Even on her quietest days. And above all, she had a brother potentially bound by blood.
Let Gotham be its own orchestra, its strings of traffic and raging cityscape. Cassandra Cain had a family that ruled the city at night, when its streets were empty and its shadows as deep as the ocean.
That was worth more than all the silence in the world.