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“No?” Batman asks, dumbfounded.
Steph would feel proud of that except that this Batman is constantly dumbfounded. It’s like his defining trait. The world seems to continually stand against his ability to understand circumstances. Or maybe he’s just not the social adept everyone calls him ‘cause he knows how to smile like he means it.
“No,” she repeats, toeing a soggy two by four. “Find someone else.”
Dawn is a hint on the horizon. The night vision of her mask blinks in and out, depending on where she looks. Where she’s not looking is shrouded in darkness, the roof access shed of a condemned apartment building. Oracle told her Wayne Enterprises bought it up last spring. A whole year to make something of it. At least they haven’t torn it down. It’s got the third best view of the Tricorner bridge.
Batman sighs, crunching footsteps against loose gravel as he approaches. Stephanie keeps her gaze elsewhere, finding a seat on the ledge like she hasn’t seen dozens of people go over. She tucks a knee under her chin, her thigh holster digging into her stomach. She has half a mind to toss a smoke bomb and grapple away.
The bat joins her heavily at the ledge. There’s a distant creak and she wonders how much weight Dick packed on to play his role.
“Can I at least tell you about the case?”
She huffs. “Can I stop you?”
It hangs there.
Steph knows that Dick knows about consent. Knows he takes it real serious.
Maybe he’s not seein’ this moment quite like that, but Steph said no and he’s pushin’ the issue anyway. She’s spent a lot of time with men who ask questions without meaning to get an answer.
Below, she watches a raccoon, so large she suspects experimentation, cleverly pry open an unbalanced dumpster. She can’t quite make out the graffiti artist tags along its side, but she recognizes the striking blue of a kid in her neighborhood.
With one leg loose over the side of the building, she waits. She can’t outrun the guy who invented rooftop tag, but maybe she can outlast the guy who invented Robin.
Some amount of that stubbornness is her inheritance after all.
This sleeker, streamlined, soulsucking version of Batman sighs. “If I tell you about it and you don’t want to do it, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll get B off your back.” Then, ‘cause he did spend half his life in Bristol, he tacks on, “Please.”
“Fine, Batman.” She doesn’t mean the word as an insult, but it still comes out that way. Schoolyard smack talk, whatcha call parents an’ teachers who crack down too hard over stupid shit.
Dick takes a breath. “Right.” He probably thinks he’s won some points with her for ‘letting’ her be Batgirl. As if he was ever a part of that decision. Barbara was barely a part of that decision. And she swore an oath of loyalty to Steph! (Not that it lasted very long. Steph likes Wendy an’ all, but Proxy ain’t Oracle.) (Not that Cass’ passing of the torch means anything other than an ache in her gut these days.)
He lays out the case. A series of kidnappings, all happening around schools in the Old Gotham and the Fashion District. They go back six months, a kid once a week, with no indication of where the victims have disappeared to or who took them. There have been no ransom messages and no bodies.
Steph can’t help but reflect on the lack of investigations into kids going missing in the Narrows or Park Row.
Strictly middle class, she thinks sardonically. Because Batman’s so goddamned wealthy that to him, owning a one story home falls under needy.
None of this really explains why Dick’s coming to Steph. Batgirl’s a little overrun with the Reaper business. And Batgirl’s a little pissed at Batmen writ large at the moment, see Bruce Wayne breaking into his own fucking facility to test if Steph’s up to snuff for her ‘own goddamn benefit.’
Jesus fucking Christ. That hurt ain’t gonna go away anytime soon. Her teeth ache from the grit it’s taken to get through this conversation without socking a man wearing that symbol across the jaw.
Maybe Batman’s thing is audacity. Robins are stubborn, Batgirls are tenacious, Spoilers are clever, and Batmen are audacious.
Someone make a nursery rhyme outta that.
“Cool story bro.” Inside voice on the outside again. She’s gotta get a rubber band to twang against her wrist or something. “I’m sure you’ve got enough batpower to handle some kidnappings.” She unfurls her body, channeling the fuck you, make me of Crystal Brown. “Whaddya really want?”
He slumps. “Robin’s been cutting class,” he admits. Ding ding ding, we have a hidden motivation. How unexpected. “I thought I finally convinced him on the merits of a ‘civilian cover’ but… He’s been doing day patrols in that area and I… I just need him to be safe.” He looks up. “I think he could use a spotter.”
As flattered as she is—Dick Grayson doesn’t use that term lightly—she’s still not seeing the Batgirl shaped hole. “Why can’t you?”
He’s been living off of his trust fund since Bruce died. Not like he’s got a job to worry about and Steph is a full time college student with a work study that is one more missed shift away from firing her. Unfortunately, she needs that money. Batgirl don’t come with a stipend and she’d like to pay off the textbooks racking up interest of her credit card, thank you very much.
“He- Robin and I are still in the establishing rapport phase and I don’t want him to feel undermined or like I don’t trust him.”
Wouldn’t know anything about that.
“If… If Robin asks, can you tell him B assigned you on this?” Assuming she’s already accepted. Classic.
“Right. ‘Cause lying always goes so well for us Bats.”
Not like withholding information has gotten a Robin killed or anything. That’s Mad Hatter talk.
“Please, Batgirl-”
“-you’re my only hope?”
He scowls at her. Really gotten that down pat (bat!) since shouldering the mantle.
But he doesn’t say anything else. ‘Cause he knows… He knows.
No more dead Robins.
“You and Robin get along, right? You’ve worked a few cases together. And, let’s be honest, you’ve got a rubber and glue mentality that a lot of us Bats… don’t.”
She snorts. Understatement. Everything is a personal offense for those assholes. Even Oracle can’t take it sitting down and it takes a helluva lotta energy for her to stand up.
“You’re a lot better equipped to handle him and keep him and all the kids safe while investigating. Robin doesn’t even really know about the case, he just- He’s getting paranoid. I heard him muttering about crosswalk guards yesterday. He’s going to get into trouble.”
“And I know all about that.” She’s the Robin who bit off more than she can chew. The example of what not to do. God, Babs used her torture photos to scare off the last kid tryna take on Batgirl.
It’s the same bullshit over and over with these people. She’s not good enough, she needs to stop, she’s in over her head. But the second they need a favor, she’s ‘uniquely qualified’ for the job. Batfam fuck up until they need an able-boded white girl.
She crosses her arms. “I’m guessing capital B Bats doesn’t know you’re inviting me into your secret club.”
“He does,” he insists. “He recommended you for the team actually, said you ‘performed admirably’ the last time he saw you.” He rolls his eyes at that second bit, as if he hadn’t put up the same stink about not trusting her when she first took over Cass’ role. (It will never not sting. Cass shoulda told her it was a part of Bruce’s bullshit conspiracy. And she should answer her calls now.) Took Dick seeing her in action to trust that she can handle herself, like she hasn’t been handling herself her whole goddamn life.
Dick turns to her. Imploring and everything. “It’s just for one mission,” he says quietly. “If you want, we’ll deactivate your operative status the moment it’s over.”
No, she thinks. You won’t. Her throat feels tight. The amount of times she’s given herself over to this crusade, freely, wholeheartedly. The amount of times they’ve wanted a warm body and she was the closest option.
She’s been waiting for this. Since the moment Bruce broke into his own lab, she’s been waiting for the gravity to start up again. And she told herself she’d be strong. She told herself she wouldn’t let him manipulate her into one of his flock again.
She hadn’t expected Dick to have taken the mantle so seriously.
“Right.” Steph stares out at the brightening city. She catches the light as best she can, stuffs it in her utility belt for later. “I’ll help out with Robin.”
And she grapples away before he can subsume her entirely in the Bat’s shadow. Maybe this time will be different, she offers.
At least she knows she can deny herself.