Work Text:
The timing was never right. Steph had thought it was a simple question—and that she’d get her simple answer; yes or no.
“Does it change how you feel about me now that you know I'm Casey?”
But things kept piling up, and Tim’s answer kept slipping past her fingers. At first it was just the cases, the crimes, how Gotham never rests despite the number of times they put people away.
And then her asshat of a dad rears his ugly ass head around again, as if trying to kill her thrice before wasn't enough. He’s still a two-bit criminal, and that wouldn’t do. So Stephanie does what she does best; she intervenes. It ends with his arrest, of course, because she’s the best. There’s even a motorcycle chase scene like in the action movies, except with more explosives because her dad apparently loves to throw them at her.
Usually, anybody would be disturbed when their father attempts to explode them (again)—proving once more what an ass he is for the umpteenth time—but Stephanie Brown is fine. She is fine.
Sometimes she misses her old dad. She especially misses her sister, Casey’s sister. She’s an only child now, which is weird. But she also has a mom now, unlike before—Steph doesn’t remember her old mom, who was gone when she was too young. It’s like she traded one parent for another. Would it be too much for her to have both?
That was her first thought when she was able to comprehend and differentiate between the two lives. Her second thought was that a dead parent was better than a criminal one. Her own words scared her. When she realized what those thoughts meant, what they implied, guilt tore her up so badly she ran to her mother and cried. She was four years old.
But sometimes, at her lowest, whenever her dad tries to kill her again, she can’t help but agree with her four-year-old self's way of thinking. She’s totally chill with it now, though. She’s fine, she tells herself.
Jason finds out his mom isn’t his bio mom. He doesn’t really care about blood relations—if it was up to Jason, Catherine Todd was his mother through and through, his only mother—but he still looks for her on the off chance his mom’s Splinter. Stephanie coming into their lives proves that reincarnation doesn’t stick to one gender—so what if? The chances are slim, but it’s not zero.
Dick comes with him and that’s possibly the only reason that Jason survives the trap set up by the Joker. It was also probably a good thing they had gone as Dick Grayson-Wayne and Jason Todd-Wayne instead of Robin and Nightwatcher. If Sheila Haywood had been willing to ransom her son in an attempt to appease and bribe the Joker, who knows what she would have done to Nightwatcher.
The two try to downplay the whole situation in the aftermath, but Tim tells her it could have been really bad. She could have lost her best friend after just getting him back. She is perfectly fine with this. He’s still alive, isn’t he?
Jason lets Sheila go despite the betrayal. She wasn’t Splinter. Thank god.
Tim’s mother passes away in a terrible, terrible incident that involved a kidnapping and poison, leaving his dad in a coma. When Mr. Drake wakes, he needs a wheelchair to move around and Tim doesn’t have much time to be a vigilante anymore. She is fine with this. His dad needs him.
Life moves on, and suddenly waiting for a question to be answered isn’t so much on the forefront of her mind anymore.
In Tim’s absence, Steph is trained to fight more like the other Bats. It’s... different. She was fine with how she fought before, it’s not her first rodeo to this vigilante roadshow, but Batman insists, otherwise she’s banned. Normally, she wouldn’t let that slide. No one’s allowed to tell her what she can or cannot do, no one has the right to tell her how to defend her city.
But truth to be told, Batman kinda scares her shitless, so she complies. She gets a new suit and everything. It’s less bulky, less padding, which makes her feel more vulnerable—but the training makes her more agile.
Maybe she should have joined Red on those ninjutsu lessons when she was Casey. It’s too late to have any remorse now, though, so she sucks it up as she’s thrown over Jason's shoulder for the third time during her first training session.
She’s getting quite acquainted with the mat.
Learning how to hack is cool, though, even if she’s forced to learn.
Patrolling with the big Bat himself is not as cool. She’s used to working alone, or with one other partner—a peer, an equal. Sure, Leo was the leader, and Casey followed his orders, but he wasn’t like this. She’s never had to work under someone on the field, and she just can’t seem to grasp it. She wishes she can patrol with Nightwatcher instead—she’s done it before and they make a perfect team. Heck, she would even take Robin at this point. Someone who she’s fought alongside with before, someone who understands her. Anyone but Batman himself.
She’s reminded again and again how insubordinate she is—or how reckless.
But how could she not be? She’s Casey Jones. She’s fine.
“Come on, Mr. B, you were in trouble,” Steph says one night after patrol. Her tone is playful, masking the tension in her voice. It’s a half-hearted attempt at levity, but she’s serious. The memory of him struggling against the bad guy during their last outing lingers in her mind.
He might be the Dark Knight, but even he isn’t invincible. And she was expected to just stay in the car? Yeah, she... accidentally got herself taken hostage and the bad guy got away but really? The car?
Batman glances over at her, his expression unreadable beneath the cowl. “That’s not how it works, Stephanie. You can’t let your emotions dictate your actions in the field. You have to trust the training.”
Steph crosses her arms, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Trust the training? I did trust the training. But I also trusted what I saw—that assassin lady almost got you! What was I supposed to do? Sit back and hear it happen over comms?”
“You jeopardized the mission. You were instructed to stay in the car for a reason. It’s not just about me or the situation you see in front of you. It's about the bigger picture—the mission, the consequences. You disobeyed a direct order.”
She frowns, knowing that he’s right.
“You put yourself in unnecessary danger,” Batman continues. “You were taken hostage. The criminal escaped, and more people will suffer because of it. This isn't a game, Stephanie.”
Her heart sinks as his words hit harder than she expected. The assassin was after a profile and had yet to find her target, so her escape tonight means more potential victims. Steph swallows. “I—I'm sorry. But I can learn from this. I’ll do better.”
He pauses, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but resolute. “I can’t afford for you to learn on the job. Not with lives at stake.”
Her breath catches, the weight of his words crushing. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re not ready for this. Not now. You need to stop.”
Stephanie’s eyes widen. “Wait, no. You can’t just—”
“You're done. Effective immediately,” Batman says, finality in his tone. “You have the rest of the afternoon to gather your belongings and remove all of your personal files from the computer. Be sure to take everything, because the codes will be changed once you leave.”
Her mind races, a thousand arguments trying to form at once. She opens her mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes tells her there’s no room for negotiation.
Tears sting at the edges of her vision, but she blinks them back, determined to keep her composure. “So that’s it? After everything, you’re just cutting me loose?”
“It’s not a punishment,” he says, his voice softening slightly, but his stance remains firm. “It’s for your safety—and for Gotham’s.”
Stephanie stands there, stunned and silent. She wants to argue, to scream that he’s wrong, that she’s capable of more. That she's done more than he can ever imagine. But deep down, she knows Batman isn’t someone who makes decisions lightly. How his decisions are usually final.
He turns to the exit, leaving her alone with her own thoughts. She’s... fine. She’s fine.
Alfred's not in the Cave, and that's a small miracle. She doesn't know how she would be able to keep her emotions in check if he was present.
Stephanie’s hands tremble slightly as she logs into the Batcomputer for what felt like the last time. She had been in the Batcave countless nights before, training, running recon, digging through case files, or running simulations. But this time, it feels different. It feels like the end of something.
She knows Mr. B wouldn’t do something drastic like bar her from hanging out with Jason or Tim as civilians. But it still stings that she’s essentially banned from all vigilante work. And that reality feels unreal.
Clearing out her access is simple enough—she goes through her own files, removing all traces of Casey from the system. No more personal patrol logs, no more mission debriefs. Everything that ties her to the Batman, gone with a few keystrokes. Stephanie is fine with all of this. She is.
As her finger hover over the final delete command, her mind turns to an unnamed file she once saw in passing. A hidden, unnamed file she's never had access to before. Batman and the others have never shown her what was inside and she's never been curious enough to ask. But now?
She swallows hard, her instincts yelling at her to stop. But if Batman didn’t want her involved anymore, what harm could a peek do? Who was she going to tell, anyway?
She hesitates for just a second, before clicking on the file. It's locked, obviously, so Steph uses everything the big man himself had taught her to bypass the security. It’s honestly a bit too easy, and she looks over her shoulder multiple times to confirm she’s not currently being duped—half-expecting a sudden burst of confetti and a camera popping out of nowhere to shame her for falling for something so obvious.
But nothing like that happens. The screen lights up with detailed plans, maps of the city marked with zones of influence, affiliations, and key individuals. At first, she thinks the file is simply just another tactical blueprint for taking down crime families, but as she scrolls deeper, excitement bubbles in her chest.
It’s a control scheme. A way to bring all crime in Gotham under the direct supervision of Batman himself. His influence would stretch not just through fear, but through calculated manipulation. Organized crime would become structured, predictable, almost orderly, under his rule.
It’s a sound plan. He could reduce casualties, keep dangerous figures in line, and prevent violence from escalating in the streets.
Why has he never implemented it?
If... if Steph can pull this off, if she can make this plan work, Batman would have no choice but to see her as a capable partner, a vigilante who knows what she's doing. Not just some reckless kid he had to pull out of trouble.
What's a little gang war in the grand scheme of things?
Batman said she needed to see the bigger picture, right?
With renewed determination, she copies the plan onto a small drive and pockets it before logging out. Her heart pounds in her chest as she stands in the cold cavern, casting one last glance around.
“This isn’t over, Mr. B,” she mutters. “Not by a long shot.”
As it turns out, ‘Matches Malone’, the principle figure needed for all of this to work, isn’t a real person. He’s Batman. Stephanie wishes that little tidbit was actually detailed in the plans that she stole. A small miscalculation on her part, excuse her—she should have totally figured that out. That’s sarcasm by the way.
Otherwise, everything else from Batman’s insane-ass plan to control all of Gotham’s crime families was executed perfectly. And for her efforts, she’s currently on a hospital bed, in the most pain she’s ever been in either of her lifetimes.
Tim, because of course he did, narc’d on her when all hell broke loose. It’s a good thing, because she’s rescued before Black Mask does too much damage to her, but she’s still a little angry at the little shit for spilling the beans like that.
She’s safe at least. And with a little (a lot) of physical therapy, she’s going to make it. She still feels like she’s dying though.
“Jason...” she rasps. He’s holding her hand.
“Steph?” he asks, voice strained and choked up.
“If I die... promise me to turn my skull into something rad,” she pleads. “Like a boombox. Or a bomb or something.”
He grips her hand with both of his, unshed tears in his eyes. “Of course, bro, I promise. I’ll even add fireworks.”
“Sweet...”
“Please don’t encourage her,” Tim groans, running a hand down his face, clearly exasperated. He’s sitting besides Jason, arms crossed, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. “The last thing we need is you running around with a skull rigged to explode. I’m already dealing with enough.”
Jason chuckles, letting her hand go and Stephanie cracks a weak smile despite the pain. “Come on, Timmy,” she says. “You’re no fun. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I must have lost it after you gave me a hundred heart attacks,” Tim mutters under his breath, still clearly frustrated, but there's a hint of relief on his face that she’s well enough to snark.
“How’s your dad?” she asks Tim.
His face softens. “He’s doing fine, nothing to report. I should be asking you that.”
“I’ll manage,” Steph replies. She’s, more or less, fine.
As the conversation flows, a nurse quietly enters the room, pushing a small machine with a dangling button into place by Steph’s bedside. Without missing a beat, she hooks up the PCA pump and hands Steph the button. “This is for your pain, but try not to overdo it, okay?”
Steph barely registers the warning, her fingers already hovering over the button. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” she mumbles.
The moment the nurse leaves, she clicks it. The pain lessens.
Jason leans in a little closer to Steph. “You scared the hell out of us, you know,” he says quietly.
Steph lets out a huff of breath, her grin fading a little. “Yeah, well, I guess I got a little carried away. But I was fired,” she adds, her voice biting just a little. “What was I supposed to do? Knit sweaters? Take up mahjong?”
Tim sighs, rubbing his temples. “You could have done anything else but this. I just don’t understand why... you would do this.”
“Mr. B told me I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t see the bigger picture,” Steph retorts. “So what better way to prove that I can if I can execute his weirdo scheme? Control the crime families at its core. Bigger picture got, fo’ sho’.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “And nearly got yourself killed in the process,” he mutters, though there’s no actual heat in his voice. It’s more concern than anything.
“Not exactly part of the plan,” Steph says, trying to shrug but wincing in pain as she does. The thought of clicking the button again floats to the front of her brain.
“Steph, you weren’t fired because you weren’t good enough. You got benched because B was scared,” Tim attempts to placate.
“Didn’t seem that scared when he told me to do the equivalent of clearing my cubicle,” Steph snarks.
“You were held hostage by an assassin, blondie,” Jason says.
“An assassin that was going around Gotham killing anyone that remotely looked like Robin, might we remind you,” Tim adds.
Steph grimaces, clicking the button again. They don’t have to remind her that she fucked up. How not only did she put her life in danger but also Dick’s. “I just thought... if I could just pull this off, I’d prove to him—” and to herself “—that I could do more. That I deserved to still be out there.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to him, or to us,” Jason tells her, running a hand through his hair. “You should have told us, Steph. You know we would have been on your side. Convince him to let you stay.”
“And what would you have done?” Steph challenges. “Tim’s not even on the field anymore.”
Jason shrugs. “I don’t know—boycott him or something. He mopes if we leave the Manor for too long. Whittle him down in a war of attrition until he gives in.”
Steph laughs weakly.
Jason smiles at her. “You’re one of us. You don’t have to run yourself into the ground trying to show it.”
This time the laugh that comes out of Steph is more bitter. She sinks back into the bed. “Well, I sure did a good job of that, didn’t I?”
Jason smirks. “Yeah, you definitely didn’t half-ass the ‘running yourself into the ground’ part.”
Steph chuckles weakly, then winces. “Okay, okay, point taken. No more going rogue. Maybe.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Tim hums, though there’s a slight smile on his face now.
“I’ll make sure I’ll inform you again, so you can rat on me again,” Steph says.
“Hey, don’t use that word like that,” Jason huffs. “My father was a rat.”
“Sorry,” Steph smiles. “I mean it, though. Next time I try a Mr. B stunt... I’ll at least make sure I’m not getting myself murdered halfway through.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “Next time?”
Steph gives him a lopsided grin. “What, you think getting fired and almost killed is gonna stop me? Please. Just wait ‘till I’m out of here. You guys won’t know what hit you.”
Jason shakes his head, but there’s fondness in his expression. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Steph says, sinking back into the bed, exhaustion settling in. “But you love me for it.”
Jason’s quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he looks at her. “Yeah, we do.”
Tim finally uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “Just... promise us you’ll be more careful next time, okay? You don’t have to prove anything. Not to us. Not to him.”
Steph looks between the two of them, feeling the weight of their concern. “I heard you the first time,” she says, her voice quiet but sincere.
Tim nods, satisfied for the moment, leaning back. Jason reaches over to squeeze her hand in comfort once before letting go.
“Do you need us to get you anything?” Jason asks. When Steph gives him a confused look, Jason further clarifies, “To pass the time. You’re gonna be on bedrest for a few more days before physical therapy.”
Steph groans. “Ugh, don’t remind me.” The thought of the waiting and the actual therapy that awaits her in the future bores her, and she presses the button again. And once more for good measure. Maybe it’s the placebo effect, but the pain is finally gone.
Jason notices. “Uh, Steph?” he says, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re pressing that button like you’re trying to win a game.”
Steph raises an eyebrow, playing innocent. “I’m in pain, Jason. I’m allowed.”
“Yeah, but there’s a limit, genius,” Jason points out, watching as her finger hovers over the button again. Before she can click it, he grabs her wrist. “Alright, that’s enough of that. I don’t need you zoning out mid-conversation because you went trigger-happy on the pain meds.”
“I am in pain,” she protests, but her voice is slurred slightly, betraying the fact she’s already hit the button a few too many times.
Jason narrows his eyes at her. “Uh-huh. Well, I’m doing you a favor.”
Before she can react, Jason yoinks the button out of her hand, holding it out of reach.
“Hey!” she exclaims, weakly reaching for it, but he easily keeps it away.
“If you don’t behave,” Jason threatens, his expression dead serious, “forget about the skull bomb. I’m gonna turn your skull into a planter. And I’m not talking about one for a cool plant either—no cacti, no exotic vines. A boring one. What's your least favorite plant?”
“...A corpse flower,” she lies.
Jason nods. “Grass it is. Right from a golf course.”
“No!” Not grass! Grass is so boring! And the ones from a golf course? Invasive!
“It’s what you’re gonna symbolize after death, Steph. Rich white man hobbies.”
“Noooo!” she crows a little louder. “Jay, please, anything but that!”
“Fine. Just some sad little fern, then. The kind that doesn’t even flower.”
Steph gasps dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, I would,” Jason replies with a smirk. “You keep abusing the pain meds, and I’ll make sure you’re remembered by the most unremarkable houseplant known to mankind.”
Tim lets out a snort. “Honestly, I’d pay good money to see that.”
Steph glares at them both, but the fight is quickly draining out of her as the meds finally catch up. She slumps back into the bed with a groan. “You guys are the worst,” she mutters, her voice growing drowsy.
Jason grins, tucking the PCA button just out of her reach. She can easily get it if she sits up, but she doesn't. “We’re the best, and you know it. Now get some rest, or I’m ordering a fern.”
As Steph starts to drift off, she manages to mumble, “Fine, but it better be one of those fancy ferns...”
Jason exchanges a glance with Tim and shrugs. “Maybe. We’ll see if she earns it.”
“Hey Tim?” Steph asks, willing herself for one more question.
“Yeah, Steph?”
“Can I have my answer now?”
Tim splutters, cheeks tinting pink. “There’s no way you’re asking for an answer right now.”
“Okay... maybe next time then...” she says, falling into a medicated sleep.
She’s fine with this. And for the first time in a long time, she truly believes it.