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The path to Gotham School of Dance never seemed so tall before. But now that Barbara couldn't simply walk up the eight little steps everything seemed like a giant hurdle. She tried to remember if there was another entrance she could use. There was a side door with a ramp, it was just in the alley that may be too small for her chair and often locked.
"Miss Gordon?" Barbara turns to see Madam Yanina, a black Russian-American woman and also her former dance instructor. "I didn't expect to see you here after…" she trailed off an pained expression on her face.
"After I was shot in the spine?" she says drily.
Yanina winces. Barbara doesn't have it in her to care if she causes other people discomfort—her whole life is uncomfortable so why should she care about forcing people to acknowledge it. "I would have said it more delicately, but yes."
"I'm only here to pick up the stuff I left in my locker," she says.
"Of course. Would you like me to unlock the side door for you?"
"Please."
Yanina escorts her to the alleyway which does end up being wide enough for Barbara. She holds the door open for Barbara to roll in. The hallways are large enough for anyone to walk beside her and to allow easy maneuvering on her part.
"Do you need me t—"
"No. I know the way." Whatever Yanina was going to offer was something Barbara wouldn't need.
Undoing the lock on her cubby, Barbara starts pulling things out. A water bottle, a change of clothes and ballet slippers. She holds them in her hand, staring at them for a long moment. Eventually she places them on the bench. They won't be of any use to her.
She wheels past one of the studios on the her way out. Inside is a group of fresh faced eight year olds following Yanina's instructions. Barbara pointedly doesn't think about how her eyes are stinging as she pushes out the door.
That night while she does her walking exercises she throws one of her legs up and over the bar. It's heavy, a complete dead weight that puts her already precocious balance further at risk. After Barbara finishes her exercises she lets herself cry. Mourning the things she'll never be able to do again.
"Get up," Barbara says, poking at Cass with a broom. Why she decided to sleep on top of the fridge is beyond her.
Cass pushes herself up, sticking her tongue out at Barbara. For her limited amount of words, she sure does manage to be a brat. "I don't care," Barbara says. "Go take a shower, we're going somewhere."
She listens for the sound of water starting turning on the stove. Cracking some eggs in a pan she lets them cook before toasting bread. By the time Cass is showered and dressed two egg sandwiches are made fore her. Cass scarf them down before they board the bus to downtown.
Despite knowing where they were heading, Barbara has to do a double take at Gotham's School of Dance. Its front step has been completely remolded into a ramp since the last time she was hear. Rolling up the step she finds there are also automatic doors, the button to which Cass happily pushes.
Barbara leads them to the studio, pushing open the door. Inside Yanina goes other some paper largely unchanged, although so grey peppers her hair. "I know I said we'd need the side entrance but I hadn't realized you changed the steps," Barbara says.
"Ah, Wayne Enterprise was handing out grants like candy after No Man's Land, so we figured it be a good time to approve our accessibility," Yanina says. She walks over to them, holding out her hand. "You must be Cassandra?"
"Cass."
"Alright," Yanina says. "Barbara asked me to go over some ballet moves with you sound good?"
"Yes," Cass breathes.
Barbara smiles at the obvious delight as Cass joins Yanina at the bar. She watches as Yanina leads her through the basic positions before changing to bar exercise. Like expected Cass takes to it like a fish to water memorizing every move on the first try. Yanina demonstrates a basic routine which Cass picks up in a flash.
"I honestly didn't think you'd ever be back," Yanina says once she rejoins Barbara, letting Cass amuse herself copying the moves in varying orders.
"I didn't think so either," Barbara admits. She tracks Cass' movements across the floor. Her heart feels heavy watching someone doing something she did effortlessly, but it's almost like the Cass' joy is scooping up Barbara's sorrow.
"Still, it must be hard. I can't imagine how I'll feel once I have to give up dancing for good—I'm already slowing down."
"Pissed off at the world, personally."
"Fair."
A comfortable silence falls between them as they watch Cass leaps carefree across the room.