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Despite her best efforts, Babs couldn’t quite seem to get Cass to care about things like clothes. When she wasn’t dressed as Batgirl, Cass didn’t care what she was wearing. She defaulted to simple colors and comfortable clothing, but beyond that, didn’t care at all.
If it had been anyone else, Babs wouldn’t have pushed, but with Cass… she wanted her to have a life outside of being Batgirl. It was easy to let your mantle become you, and Babs was worried about what that might entail for a girl who hadn’t really had a life before taking on her mantle. Cass couldn’t be a hero, not a good one, unless she allowed herself to be a person first.
At least Cass didn’t seem to mind the mall. It was a little overcrowded, but most people gave Babs plenty of space when they realized she was a wheelchair user. Babs wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or offended when people saw her coming and stepped back, like they thought they could catch it. At least they weren’t getting in her way or trying to touch her wheelchair. That would have been worse .
Being disabled had made Babs realize how common ableism was, even amongst people who thought they were liberal-minded. It was all too easy for strangers to treat her like she wasn’t a person, because of her disability.
Maybe that was why she was so dead-set on Cass learning to be a person before anything else. She knew how hard it could be to have your personhood taken away.
It wasn’t the time for such dour thoughts, though. She was here to spend time with Cass, and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.
“I want you to pick something today,” Babs said, as she and Cass walked through the mall.
Cass pointed to a stand that was selling pretzels. “Hungry.”
Babs tried not to chuckle. “I meant something to wear, but we can get pretzels, too.”
Having Cass say when she was hungry was definitely progress, so there was that.
The pair got a pretzel each, and started wandering around the shops, trying to find something Cass liked. They weren’t having much luck, with Cass scrunching up her face at the texture or color of most fabrics, so Babs was surprised when something in a window caught Cass’ eye.
It was a bright pink dress. It was a few sizes too small for Cass, likely meant for someone half her age.
“I think that one’s a little small for you…” Babs mused. “If you want, we can go in and see if they have a bigger size-”
“No.”
“It wouldn’t be difficult to go and ask, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No!” Cass shouted, grabbing onto the arm rests of Babs’ wheelchair. “No! Not allowed!”
“Cass,” Babs snapped, her voice taking on a warning tone. “You know we don’t shout in public spaces. Let go of my chair, now.”
Cass let go of Babs’ chair immediately, taking a big step away. She glanced at the dress in the window again, then crouched down, bundling herself up into a ball on the floor. She was gripping at the back of her neck with both hands, digging her nails into her neck, and went very still, the only movement being the way her back rose and fell with each breath.
It took Babs a minute to realize she was expecting to be kicked.
It made her want to strangle Cain, and every other person who had ever hurt Cass.
A few people were giving Babs dirty looks, but she ignored them. “Cass? I’m sorry I got upset,” Babs said softly. “I don’t like it when people touch my chair, but I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
Cass was still shaking, but she slowly began to uncurl. “Sorry.”
“I know you’re sorry. Did something upset you?”
It was so hard to know what would upset Cass. The strangest things could set her off, sometimes.
“Not that one,” Cass repeated, refusing to look at Babs - no, at the shop window. “Don’t want it. Please .”
Babs - belatedly , she realized - was suddenly struck with the feeling she had hit a very sour note. “You don’t have to have it,” she said. “What about it do you not like?”
“Looks like from before,” Cass mumbled. “Cain had one. Made me wear it. Made me do bad things.”
“… how old were you?”
Cass shrugged. “Don’t know. Long time ago…” She took a shaky breath. “First kill. Ever .”
Babs’ breathing went shallow. “How about we stay away from dresses for a bit?”
Cass nodded, grateful. “No dresses,” she agreed. “Thank you.”
They ended up eating lunch together at the food court (Cass tried her first-ever slice of pizza), trying on sunglasses at a kiosk, and going home with a pair of comfortable black jeans that Cass quietly proclaimed were exactly her style.
Despite everything that had happened to her, Babs was determined to give Cass a chance to be a normal girl, no matter what it took.