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She knew Bruce more than anyone, only being rivaled by Alfred and Dick, but that was to be expected. Really, the only thing those two had on her was time.
But she could confidently say she understood him in ways they simply couldn't comprehend, not for lack of trying, but for the very makeup of their beings.
They both had darkness within them.
The crippling fear of disappointing another person, especially one that you love, can be debilitating. The strain mentally and physically is beyond taxing. Knowing that you are able to perform correctly in one area of your life yet miss the mark completely in another area that matters more is... hard.
She knew and she understood how hard it was to simply believe that someone could love you, especially after years of being told and shown the exact opposite. Years and years of being told that you’re not even on the level of dog shit on the bottom of someone’s shoes messed with your psyche.
That doesn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating to watch as her Dad simply rejected it.
She wasn’t good with words, just like Bruce. But unlike Bruce, she also wasn’t good at writing down her feelings, not that he utilized that skill often.
For days, she stewed on what she could do, replaying what her siblings and Stephanie had said happened when they told Bruce they loved him, while trying to make it seem like nothing was bothering her.
With the way he appeared to unconsciously hurt himself any time his emotions got too big, she didn’t want to put any more pressure on Bruce. He does that to himself enough. She just wishes he saw what the rest of the family does, what all of Gotham does.
Cass likes Bruce’s hands. They’re big, warm, and gentle, no matter how scarred they were, and have the ability to hurt. And yet, he chooses not to.
He has never hit her unless they were sparring, and even then, Bruce doesn’t go for the kill. He never hurts her because he wants to hurt her. It’s not a fun game for him. He pushes her. Challenges her. Guides her in ways her father that man never could.
He chooses to save people. Her.
She dons a shadow to follow in his footsteps, to atone for the murders she had committed, to become free and be the one people look to for help. She takes his words, his actions, and nestles them right beside her heart so she knows what’s just.
He trusts her. She is not a weapon to be used and discarded till she is needed to inflict pain once more. No.
She is… Princess. Love, darling, gremlin, menace, an older sister, a younger sister, a daughter, and a granddaughter.
And maybe… maybe Bruce forgets that he is Bruce. Maybe he just needs a push in the right direction. She can do that.
“What’s this?” He asks softly, always softly, and takes the flimsy piece of paper from her hand, looking over it seriously. Always so serious when it comes to her and the people he loved.
“Dance trope.” She explained, shifting her feet once, twice, three times. She was filled with boundless energy just thinking of how Bruce would react to her dance. “It’s finished. It’s finally finished. Show time.” She smiled, then did jazz hands. She got that from Stephanie and Dick.
She likes the fluttery movement; it reminds her of when Bruce stops paying attention to how to perfectly control his body and lets his hands flap in excitement or just to stimulate himself.
Bruce smiled back and reached out, pausing for a second just in case Cassandra wanted to duck out of the way, before patting her head. No matter how much he tried, her hair remained fluffy and bouncy, undeterred by the gentleness of her Dad smoothing back her hair.
“Sounds fun.” He crooned, his eyes crinkling at the sides, showing off his crows' feet. That’s how she knew he was smiling, even if the rest of his face remained a stoic mask. “There’s only one ticket?”
“Yes.” Cass nodded, grabbing the ticket and folding it carefully before placing it in the front pocket of his slacks, patting the fabric for extra security. “Just you this time. You’ll come?”
Bruce lets out a soft chuckle, and Cass is unashamed to say it’s one of her favorite sounds. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She could tell that he was still confused about why he had been the only one chosen, but before he could ask, Cass dances out of the study, her socked feet helping her glide and spin across the wood floor, feeling lighter on her feet than she had since the realization with her siblings.
Yes. There’s no way he could possibly misunderstand her.
Despite what Dick claims, Cass thinks she knows Dad best and understands him the most.
And before she knew it, she was backstage. Her hair had been pulled back into a loose bun, letting a few strands frame her face perfectly. Everything was progressing perfectly.
“Remember,” Bethany finished filling in her eyeliner, taking a step back and admiring her work on such a beautiful subject, “this isn’t ballet, there are no rules. You’re meant to have fun. Be loose, express yourself, this is to show your family how much you appreciate them.”
She would express herself like no one had ever expressed themselves. Bruce would understand the love she had for him without her even having to say a word.
The bright lights of the stage, the gaze of hundreds of people, and the deep base of the music that could only be drowned out by the rapid beat of her heart. Exhilarating.
This is it. He’ll see the love and thought and admiration she put into this dance. The months she took to carve each move into her very soul. She bares it all to him, here up on stage, no words needed.
Cass takes her final pose as the music comes to an end; she’s never danced harder in her life. As her breath comes out in short, harsh pants, her eyes lock onto the one man who has irrevocably changed her life forever.
Bruce stood, tallest in the crowd but also front and center, clapping loudly. Even from on stage, Cass could see a few tears slip down her Dad’s face.
The moment she comes off stage, she’s greeted with a comically large yet beautiful bouquet of flowers.
Daphne flowers: grace and charm. White and blue hyacinths: prayers for a loved one, sincerity, and deep care. And of course, roses, just to keep with the tradition of expressing passion.
“I understand,” Bruce murmured softly, pulling his daughter into a hug, “I completely understand.” He whispered, and Cass felt her heart swell as pressure built behind her eyes and her view got a little blurry. The music of the next dance number faded away to a quiet hum. It was only her and her dad.
“Of course I do. You were so… magnificent, beautiful, breathtaking… I simply don’t have the words to express how I feel after seeing your performance.” Bruce whispered back fiercely, pulling back to look her in the eyes. Cass reached up and gently wiped away a tear that slid down his cheek.
“You still miss him, don’t you?”
“I’ve read plenty of books about this and… and I’ve experienced it myself a few times. David was the first father you ever knew. It’s perfectly normal to still miss him, even after everything that he’s done.”
And once again, just like every other important moment in her life, words failed Cassandra.
“Sometimes…” Bruce pauses, wondering if this was the right time and place to be this honest with his daughter, “sometimes I wish I could have had you as a baby. To save you from all that heartache you experienced so young.” Bruce lets a wistful sigh pass through his lips as he closes his eyes to reminisce about what could have been. “I think… I think I would have loved you right. I know I would have tried.”
Cass nodded, burying her face into Bruce’s shoulder and taking in a shuddering breath. “You would have. I know this.”
“I’m sorry you miss your father,” Bruce says instead of acknowledging her words. “I’m sorry I can’t fill that place in your life. I’m sorry… that my love isn’t enough for you.” Bruce says, his voice so mournful that an ache forms in Cass’s chest, so tightly wound she feels like she’ll suffocate. “I’m sorry he wasn’t able to see the dance you made for him.”
“No…” She swallows the lump in her throat.
“For you,” Cass says forcefully, dropping the bouquet and holding his hands. Those stupid, kind hands. “For you, Dad.” She repeats, looking him in the eyes.
“I…” Bruce takes in a breath and stills, his eyes jumping to every corner in the room before returning to Cass’s, then looking away once more. That’s okay with her; she knows he’s bad at eye contact. “I don’t understand…” he whispers, his voice… scared… scared of love just like Stephanie said.
“That’s okay, I will tell you until you finally do. I will show you from now on.” Cass can feel her own tears starting to slide down her cheeks, ruining the meticulous makeup Bethany had painstakingly put on for the performance. “I’m sorry you don’t understand. I’m sorry I made you not understand that I love you.”
Bruce shuddered, and his body made an aborted jerking motion, as if the words spoken so sincerely rocked him to his very core, and it was instinct to escape such a raw emotion. “I don’t…” Bruce stopped and wet his lips. His fingers flexed in Cass’s hands, trying to dig his fingers into his palm like usual, but Cass stopped him.
“That’s okay.” She repeated, squeezing his hands before throwing herself into his embrace again. Always so warm and encompassing. Bruce should give out hugs more, but then she’d want to keep them all to herself. “I love you.”
Cass pulled away and scooped up her bouquet. “Home?” She asked, squeezing her Dad’s hand.
Bruce nodded silently, his eyes distant as he squeezed her hand back. He was quiet, yet it was obvious his mind was running a million miles an hour. Maybe he had slipped into being nonverbal again just as she often did.
That’s okay. They’re one and the same; it all makes sense to her.
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