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Cass had told herself that the aching feeling she felt in her chest at first glimpse of the eggplant was simply the end of a long night catching up with her. As if the lowlifes of the street had been particularly trying today. They hadn’t, and unlike her family, she didn’t have the luxury of lying to herself about guilt ghosts and half imagined phantoms. Not that she hadn’t seen Stephanie as a guardian angel before- pulling her from deep waters, showing her the beauty of her life, offering a home with her in the next world before she’d been ripped from her by rebirth. She’d learnt many words since standing, unseen, watching them lay Stephanie into the earth, but none seemed to fit how she’d felt about her. Perhaps it was one of many gifts left to her by a father who left holes. Holes where others had words.
There is was again, the flash of a purple cape, and closer this time. The figure, hooded in purple (“not purple, eggplant”, a voice in her head said), face disguised in black, silver shining at the left thigh and about the hip- made the ache grow. It spread, flooding the old bullet wounds which riddled her back, making her feel too hot in the black leather which usually felt so comfortable, a second skin. Anybody else might have missed almost silent approach of this imposter, as they crept forward on old black boots. The clothing was as it had been the last time she’d seen Stephanie as Spoiler, but it couldn’t be her. She’d seen the body. Distracted as she was, Cass was still quicker than whoever this other person was. And they were now within leaping range. Her fist curled before colliding solidly with the other, the black leather of her glove melting into the strap across their abdomen. The sound the other let out was achingly familiar- something etched into her brain from endless hours of practice. Of Play.
The other doubled over, and Cass, furious, took an imperceivable moment to consider her options. Whoever was pretending to be Stephanie must have known about Spoiler. Known Spoiler was dead. Known Spoiler was dead and known that Spoiler meant something to Batgirl. Cass wanted to destroy this person. To tear them limb for limb for making the hurt, the boiling rage she’d pushed down to a usable stream bubble up again. But that wouldn’t give her answers. Answers she needed to deaden the screaming, voiceless noise in her mind. She reached deftly beneath the hood and pulled the back of the mask up and over. A tumble of warm curls tumbled out, and her stomach turned. Sick to the teeth as she was, she continued to remove it. Each inch made it worse. There were strong, dark brows- naturally shades darker than the sun streaked blonde, with the scar through the right. A scar that Steph had got from a coffee table and an angry father who thought he was much smarter and stronger than he ever was. The nose, somehow crooked both ways from when she’d broken it- three times. The full, soft cheeks, covered with already fading freckles, cut with scars, both old and new. Cass knew the story behind most of the old ones- had helped add to their count. The new ones turned the ache in her chest into something sharper, something crueler. There were the lips, too. Full, often twisted upwards in amusement, or wonder. Wondrous lips from which many new words had spilt. It was knowledge that Cass had so desperately drank up, endlessly seeking as she was to fit in the strange world the other seemed so natural in.
And then, there were the eyes. It shouldn’t have been possible for such pale, grey eyes to be as warm as they were. And they were warm- even as they had flashed in anger after Cass had stopped her from breaking their sacred rule. They’d been warm, too, when they were stinging with hurt, and disappointment, as she’d told the other she didn’t think she was good enough- thinking only how it would keep the other safe. It hadn’t, and Cass didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself for it. Cass’ eyes shifted down slightly again as the other’s lips parted.
“Cass.” The person who looked like Stephanie’s voice was soft, imploring. Cass instinctively took a few steps back at the sound of it. The warm, wet feeling that had spread across her old wounds turned cold, and she resisted the urge to shiver. The cynical part of her brain screamed at her that it wasn’t like Steph at all to sound so gentle- but wasn’t it? Hadn’t she seen Steph’s brow furrowed like that, her eyes begged for somebody, anybody to hear her? Cass no longer wanted to fight. All the anger had drained from her. She wanted to turn, to run- but her well trained muscles no longer seemed connected to her brain. Her body felt a few inches away from her soul, and was getting further with each second.
“I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want me to.” Not Steph took a tentative step forward, just as Cass had known she was going to. She’d seen it telegraphed in the line of her hips, the shifting of black, worn boots. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”
She reached one hand to the opposite elbow, deliberately looking not quite at Cass’ eyes as she did so. Cass remembered how Steph had always done that too; had noticed her discomfort with direct eye contact, and had adjusted.
She had adjusted to it without ever asking Cass about it, though there was a question about her shoulders, in the subtle twist of her lips, the first few time she had. Cass had never known what to say to her about it. Cass had never known how to say a lot of things to Steph. Especially not once she was nothing but an unfeeling granite block and a few short lines of text- lines that Cass only knew the meaning of because Steph had helped her learn how to read.
“Cassandra?” The words, as gentle as they were, might as well have been screamed at her. She flinched backwards, instinctive rather than conscious, and her lungs pulled in a sharp breath. A hand, knuckles covered every inch with a deep purple, its flaking nails paintedd with the same shade of polish she remembered, stopped its slow movement towards hers.
“You don’t have to speak…” The person who seemed like, but surely couldn’t be Steph paused, pulling her lower lip into her mouth with teeth. She held it between her teeth as she thought, the same way the blonde always had when she was finding the words she wanted. “Can you nod?”
Cass willed her brain and body to connect the way they usual did, raising and lowering her chin slightly. Yes, she could nod. She tried to open her mouth again- nothing happened.
“Okay. Great. Good. I’m going to grab- touch, I mean, not grab- your hand. Is that okay?” The cynical part of her told Cass that it would be an insult to the real Steph to let this faker, this trick of the world, touch her. She didn’t let many people touch her. But she’d never minded when it was Steph. The other had almost always seemed to know when it was going to be okay to- seemed to be able to understand her boundaries the way Cass understood body language.
“Is it okay to remove your glove?” The person who might have just been Steph’s fingers stopped a mere inch from her own, and Cass could feel the static there, though her hands were still safe, held in black leather as they were. Cass forced her chin down once, another short, sharp nod. The short, chipped nails fiddled for a second, looking for the invisible zipper near the elbow.
The air in the abandoned warehouse was cold, but it wasn’t that that caused the goose pimples to raise on Cass’ arms. The person who was probably Steph’s fingers had barely brushed across her the skin of her elbow- light, gentle. Cass remembered how they felt pressing steri stitches over open wounds, or needling her in the ribs as they both laughed until they were hoarse. The sensation didn’t last for long, as the other rolled her glove off, holding it in her other hand.
Then they were back, pressing along Cass’ own, as the other girl pushed their hands gently together, palm to palm. Cass could not longer lie to herself about what she was feeling- what her body language skills, what her heart had been telling her since she saw the other’s shadowy figure. Somehow, some way, against the odds, Steph had returned to her. Cass found herself able to move again, if only slightly, and slid her fingers sideways slightly, intertwining them with the other’s. Each new point of contact brought a jolt of electricity up her arm, but as even as she lifted her head slightly, she realised she still could not speak. Still, she could see those warm eyes all but disappearing as the scars danced and shifted across Steph’s cheeks. She was grinning, and all the coldness Cass had just felt disappeared.
So, she pushed a little more strength into her hand, squeezing the others. That brought laughter- Stephanie’s laughter, a melodious sound which let you know that you were in on the joke. “Ouch!” The comment was good natured. Cass was pretty sure she hadn’t actually hurt the other.
Steph slowly, tentatively leant forward, until they were leaning against one another, shoulder to shoulder, with hands still held together. “We can stay here as long as you like, Cass. And you don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.” And so they did.