#casscainweek

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Bruce ruffles her hair one day and she freezes. She stands there. Immobilized like she so rarely is.

Being the daughter of a father has always meant kicking and punching and bleeding and fighting to get an inkling of attention. Tooth and nail. Blood and snot. Tears, too, at the beginning and when weakness still took over easily. Then love was in the nod of approbation and the pride in a stature.

The attention there, is here, but it wasn't fought for. It is simply here. And it doesn't look like it was such an important thing to him, too. (It wasn't. It's in the way he stands there and in the low set of his shoulders, in the slight furrow of the eyebrows that means confusion, then something close to pity that she doesn't know the name of yet. It's in the way he asks if she is okay.)

And she doesn't get it.

The thought of fleeing away flashes through her mind, like for an animal startled by the unexpected behaviour of a bigger creature. It's very quickly put aside, but it was there. She shows a shrug she doesn't entirely mean because she is feeling way more than just it, but that at least gets Bruce to drop the subject.

He leaves the room with an unnecessary smile. She is left confused.

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She asks him. Outright. Direct, daring, because running unfazed into dangerous situations is something she has always done.

The light coming from the fireplace means warmth and relief and comfort. She is still feeling tense, a little.

"Bruce. What does love mean?", she asks, and she observes as the light reflects across his face and illuminate the subtle shift of his expression as he registers her question. Curiosity, confusion, frazzlement, stress. Many more she doesn't care about naming, too. Because he is answering and she is more interested in his response.

"That's.. a complicated question. What spurred it on?"

She shrugs. "I have. Have been thinking about it."

"I suppose it means the affection someone feel for someone else. Or for something, sometimes. And not always romantically, too. Love's a complicated emotion."

He stops, then, and his hand goes to adjust his turtleneck in a way that is asking if the answer is enough to satisfies her. It isn't. Not really. She isn't, but he has answered already and she doesn't think he can answer in a way that will really suit her, anyway.

Love's complicated, yes. She nods a thanks and goes back to enjoying the way the fire is dancing around. Twisting around. Burning. It's easier to.

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The sun is going down. This is the time of the day where there are less people out and about and more fear and anger than usual.

She observes a man hurry a little boy to go across the street more quickly. Another vigilante might have thought this is a kidnapping, because the man pulls on the tiny arm harshly when the kid slows down. He glances around, like he's checking to see if anyone noticed them.

But Cass stays there, perched up.

The man isn't being harsh because he is scared of his crime being seen. He's scared of crimes. When he pulls, the kid, old enough to know what a kidnapping is, isn't scared. Frustrated, then defeated, but in a way that isn't scared. More acceptant than anything.

And when the father pulls, he keeps looking down to glance at the child in a way Cass can't exactly interpret. Not because she's too far to see. Is this it? Is love being scared for someone and it showing through actions?

They keep leaving, and she loses sight of them not too long after. She stays a little longer. Then she's leaving, too.

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Bruce offered to brush her hair. It's been getting long enough to get in her face when she is training down in the Batcave, but he doesn't ask her to cut it all off. He doesn't simply do it, too, which surprises her even more. Logically, she knows he wouldn't, because Tim's hair has also been getting long and he doesn't say anything, too. And because Bruce's just not like that, too. But her thoughts aren't always the most logical.

She's not sure why she accepted Bruce's offer, for example. It's not that it bothers her, but she has never pictured... this. Ever.

Barbara brushes her hair sometimes, when it gets too tangled for her. Like that time she ended her day diving in the Queens River to grab a too high dealer out of the water. Barbara saw her hair when she got back to the tower. She asked. Cass accepted. It became something like a ritual.

Barbara brushes her hair, and that's it. How it is. But never Bruce. Never Cain.

But now Bruce is brushing her hair, and he is being.. Careful. As Barbara is. Not tugging at knots like Cass does.

"Would you mind me braiding it?"

Cass stares down at her knees, and at the rug she is sitting on. Her hand is toying with the loose-ends parts of it. It could look like hair, maybe. She has never braided her own hair. Always thrown it into a quick ponytail. Mostly when she needed it out of her face. Or into a small bun. She thinks she doesn't know how else to do it. She has never thought about learning other ways. It'd be easy, though, to watch someone do it for somebody else and learn that way. Easier. She could ask Barbara or Steph to show her. Maybe even Bruce.

"Okay", she says.

Bruce's hands are gentle as they gather all the locks of her hair into a single ponytail. He is careful with how he moves them around after. Up, then down, then Cass loses the steps because she stops following them.

The end of the rug stay loose.

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"Well. I need more practice."

"Yes."

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Her reflection in the mirror stares back at her as intensely as she is doing.

It looks good. The braid is a little loose and a little lopsided because her head was turned away from the hands that braided, but is is still looking good. To her at least. She likes it. The braid doesn't come undone when her fingers toy around the hair tie.

She thinks she likes Bruce indirectly asking to share other moments like they did here even more. She knows she's going to ask him to do her hair again. And she already knows he's going to be saying yes, too.

It's a really nice feeling, how convinced she is of it.

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She doesn't like thinking of what it means to be the daughter of a mother. She doesn't ask herself what it means. To be the daughter of a mother. Not often. Being the daughter of a father, it isn't exactly easier, but it's... A possibility. It's something she's often considered, that she willingly chose to ignore sometimes. Something she deals with a lot.

But mother-figures are different. Further away. They're fine, but from afar. Observed across the streets, on the TV or in stores and galas.

Far away.

Or a little unacknowledged. It's easier like that.

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Metal gets slammed against metal with a bang.

Frustration.

Batman gets out the Batmobile with knuckles clenched too tight around the fabric of his cowl. Cass follows with a strain to her chest and her head held up high.

He takes off the cowl. Sharper than usual movements. Resentment. A bit of ire. He turns to face her.

"Batgirl."

"Batman."

"You cannot. And I mean that, you cannot do that again. Ever."

His words are not shaky, but to her, it is just like they were. She ignores his scowl and she stands straighter.

"You were gonna get hit." The scowl that is in Batman's gaze gets even deeper.

She holds his gaze. "You didn't."

"Yes. That isn't the point. The point, Batgirl, is that you were hit by something I could have easily handled."

"I did." She holds his gaze, even when his eyes leave hers to go look at the arm she had wrapped around her chest. Frustration. Through her veins and brain, this time. "Handled it."

"If you are going to fight by my side, then you let me handle what I can handle", he answers, something in his posture Cass doesn't want to be seeing right now.

"My side. It was my case. You came."

"Cassandra. Don't do that again.", he says. His words are harsh. Worry. This is worry in the tightness of his shoulders.

She keeps holding his gaze, and when nothing in it shifts, she turns around towards the med bay. She needs balm. For her bruise.

She leaves wrapping out for his sprained wrist even when the frustration keeps flowing in her blood.

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"He's always been like that", Barbara says between two clicks of the tea machine. "I don't know if it's because he's an ass or if that's just his language. Probably both simultaneously. Which do you want?"

"Blue one", Cass answers from her place at the kitchen table.

"He just can't say things right up. You know, he always has to express himself through actions. You're pretty similar, actually, except you also share your emotions outrightly." She spins around with one hand, hold out the cup with the other.

"Thanks", Cass grabs the cup.

Barbara spins back around just when the tea machine starts making a sound. A wheezing one. "He was likely scared and fear isn't an expression that's encoded into him. If you see him getting your favorite food, that means sorry in his love language. But you do need to be more careful, Cass."

Cass frowns into her empty cup. Fear. Again. And love, in the same context. Almost the same sentence. It doesn't make sense for them to be together, to her. But apparently it does.

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She goes back to the manor after. When she is calmed down.

Bruce hands her a bag, a little later after. It's full of burgers. They are still hot, fresh from the Batburger. They're still steaming a little.

It isn't her favourite food, but it is something she really likes. In a big amount, just like she also likes. It's a sorry. It might be an I love you.

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She used to think violence was a form of love. When the bullets grazed her, the scars meant she was learning how to be tougher. And being tougher meant being able to live longer. To her, if he wanted her to live longer, then that meant he didn't want her dead, and that was him caring.

And. When she loves, she does hurt people. Her loving Gotham means she hurts people. The people that hurt it.

But, also, the people she loves personally, as faces and not... concepts: she doesn't hurt them. Or. Not intentionally. That definition she was crafting, she throws it away. Love is not what gets you to hurt people. It's not just that.

And, fear : love is not that either. It isn't anger.

Bruce told her love isn't always romantic, and she agrees with that as well, but she doesn't think it's only affection. She feels a lot of feelings that aren't always affection towards people she thinks she love. Frustration, for example. For the people that are now her siblings, for example.

So love can't be explained through words. Actions, maybe. Through who she is compared to other people, maybe also.

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Being a sister is something she has never done before. She's still learning. It is kind of difficult.

Being a sister means a lot of things.

When she does these things, she knows she is expressing love, so that is enough to her. Asking to people what love is is complicated, often, so she avoids doing it anymore. With Tim, for example, she doesn't ask, because his relation with love has been complicated. They don't talk about their parents.

But, she does tease him about he and Kon.

It might be unfair of her. Because he still hasn't realized. He hasn't realized the way Kon looks at him when they are both in Gotham. When he arrives, but also when he leaves. He also hasn't realized that the way Kon leans on him is not the same way he leans on the other Young Justice members.

But. It's funny to. And she'd like it if they both realized. So, really, she is helping when she states, discreetly, the obvious.

"He wants you."

Tim almost chokes on his coffee. Luckily, Cass doesn't have to do Heimlich on him. He splutters the coffee out instead of chocking on it.

"Oh. You didn't know I was there", she assumes, gazing at the droplets of coffee rolling down one of the Bat-computer screens.

"No, I did. Alfred is going to kill us, are there still any tissues down here?"

"You're changing the subject", she observes.

"Yeah, sue me.", he says. Ironical. Not frustrated. But... embarrassed, a little. "You can't just say things like that all out of the blue, Cass."

"Why not?", she asks " It's the truth. You're his friend. He wants you."

"Don't put it like that then, people are going to assume things. ", Tim says, wiping at the screen with the tissues he just found.

She knows that already. And he does, too. He's not dumb. Hah. Denial, then. She huffs a laugh. It quickly turns into an assumed snort at the way Tim's face is turning red under his seriousness. He blushes. Getting more than embarrassed.

"I meant that. You can't just say that to people's face, they'll assume you mean it carnally."

She laughs. Outloud. And very loudly this time.

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Being a sister:

she likes it.

She loves it.

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It's difficult, sometimes.

She is on good terms with Tim now, and with Dick, too. Jason, it's different.

He is their brother. Still is Bruce's son, in the way that matters. So, that means they should be siblings, technically. But it isn't as easy as that. He rarely comes to the manor.

They rarely see each other. As civilians, or as non-civilians. When they do, they don't speak. Or they fight. Verbally. Not physically. She'd win.

But they fight verbally, rarely, and he wins when they do, usually. With words that hurt.

Still.

Steph appreciate him sometimes. Tim and Damian and Duke, too, more often. Dick does, always. So, Cass tolerates him. And Jason is sometimes appreciable. And those times, she does like his presence. Then there's still the other times.

Maybe that makes them more like half-siblings. Spiritually. Can you love someone partially?

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It's easier to be a sister to Duke and Damian, somehow. Maybe it's because she is older than them. Being a sister to them, it means being even more of a support than she tries and be with the others. It means showing up at Damian's art show even if she is coming back early from patrol, for example.

She is looking at the portrait of a rabbit when he notices her.

He doesn't come immediately. She has time to switch to another of his drawings before he does. It's pretty. As detailed as the other one. The fur's nice. It looks very real.

"This is the neighbour's dog. His name is Winston", Damian announces himself.

"It's really pretty. I like the light in his eye", she notes, still looking at it.

"..Thanks. I drew him after that time he got into the garden. ", he says, switching the subject away from her admiration. They do that a lot. Maybe it's a brother thing, being uncomfortable with admiration.

He usually start sulking, whenever he notices she sees the admiration in his eyes.

"Yes. I remember. I pet him too. He was sweet. Did you meet that rabbit too?", she says, looking back at the previous drawing she was admiring, instead of praising him more.

"The sweetest.", Damian says. His face is suddenly brighter. "Yes, I did. Jon showed it to me last time I was at the Clarks' abode. We named it, also."

"Oh?", she goes, and that is enough to him. And for him to feel joy, apparently.

"We were hesitating between Gardenia and Bug; I wanted something related to its fur, but he wanted something 'sillier'. We settled on Cauli".

"Cauli?"

"... Short for Cauliflower. Jon was really insistent.", he goes on to explain.

The warmth that comes into her chest when she keeps listening is affection, she knows that, but it is also love.

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Dick and her are more complicated. He trusts her now.

She forgave him a long time ago. But he didn't, not exactly, because that's something he does, holding everything in himself. Their start, for example. Their first meeting, then what came after. There's been other things since. There's new things now. More recent ones. And it's adding up and up and up. Sometimes, she thinks it'll explode on him. All of it. She wonders how people don't notice.

It's obvious when he starts to stay on patrol longer and longer. It's obvious when his answers to Barbara keep being cheerful, but become shorter and shorter.

Not concise like hers are, not exactly. Not yet. But... still. She worries.

It's why she follows him as he roams the streets of Gotham, later, as a civilian. And a little after he gets closer to the borders of the city, too. Before he can decide to go back to Bludhaven, though, she considers stopping. Or stopping him.

She doesn't have to choose. He turns around, and she decides to step out of her shadows.

"Cass, hi! How long have you been following me for, exactly?"

She shrugs. Ignore his question. "Will you be back before next week?"

His tone is confused when he answers. It's a question she often asks, but never when Bruce's absent and he's there in his stead. It's something he usually do, filling in for him. "Well, yeah, obviously I will. Even-"

"Don't. Stay home. Rest. You need it. Gotham doesn't", she cuts.

He blinks. Surprised. Shoulders get a little more tight. His smile creeps harder onto his face, even as he crosses his arms in defense. Deflection? Maybe. "Is that your way of saying I need to get more sleep in my system? I'm pretty sure I don't have any eyebags screaming about it, do I?

No. He doesn't. Because he's hidden them behind makeup, probably. She doesn't see any eyebags or any makeup, but she also doesn't see any sleep in his figure. So.

She stays silent.

"I slept plenty last night, don't worry."

"You do. Have eyebags. Metaphorically.", she says. "Stay in Bludhaven. Your bed would be better than.. there." Or Bludhaven's streets would be. She is fully sure he wouldn't rest, but at least he could get to the cases he left back there, instead of thinking about them while working on the ones there.

He doesn't falter.

"B's out of town, you need my help here."

"No. I asked Duke to take over your case. With me. He said yes. We're okay", she says. He is stubborn, but she is more stubborn than he is. Or at least, she's going to be now.

"Barbara already locked you out of the documents.", she adds, driving the point home just a little more.

The way his shoulders slump down is a little satisfying. The way he sighs instead of giving out a too light-laugh is, too.

"There's other cases I could work on", he tries, tentative. Stubborn. "Or I could just patrol."

"No", she says. Again. She doesn't care if she's repeating herself a little. He needs it. The rest. "We're already asking.. others to come in, too. You'll help more in Bludhaven." She can't say names because she isn't wearing the cowl right now, but she'll text them if she really has to. She doesn't take her phone out of her pocket, though.

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In the end, he does go back to the city that is as much his as Gotham is.

Cass is happy about it.

She almost doesn't go spying on him to check if he is resting. Almost. She does it even if she knows he wouldn't like that. Here, she is convinced she's doing that out of love.

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She doesn't bother with observing siblings moving across the street. She knows what she is to her brothers, and it's a sister.

She knows they are different from other siblings, but she doesn't care. She loves them, and they love her back as well. Even if they can be hesitant or discreet in their demonstrations. It's alright. She doesn't mind.

At least she knows what this is, here. That it is here. Love is more than just appreciation, there. She cares about them, but it's more than that. She cares about the people that live in Gotham, too. But not in the same way. There's things she'll do for her brothers that she doesn't do for just anyone, sometimes. Then maybe that means love is in the details. Not just the actions.

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Friends are more complicated. She knows what a friend is. That definition isn't complicated. She has friends, even if not that much. But the love she feels for them, it's harder to qualify.

She doesn't make friends very easily, even if she appreciates a lot of people. She loves the people that live in Gotham, and she loves the ones in Bludhaven and Hong-Kong, too. But she doesn't love all of them in the way she loves her friends.

She wonders why the line here is blurry. Why it's different from the other love she feels, the family kind. She doesn't think it's a matter of trust. Not really. She also doesn't have any better explanations.

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Kon is jumping up and down in excitement. Literally. It's a little endearing. But it also means he's distracting her from her reading. Him and Steph would do well together, she thinks. They'd go along well. They're similar, but not enough that they'd clash. Or. Well. Wouldn't clash that much.

"So? Can I? It'd fit you so well, I swear."

"You're here for Tim. Go distract him", she says, not meaning it entirely. Kon is nice. Kon's alright. He can stay even if he keeps her from really focusing on the letters.

"Please?"

She doesn't look up. He keeps looking at her, frame full of his hope. She shrugs. "Cass. I swear, you'd rock it."

"You just want to practice. For Tim", she says. It's his turn to shrug this time. Self-assured, but with just a hint of sheepishness. And. He keeps staring at her. It'd be creepy. If she cared.

She does care when he draws closer and makes move to snatch her papers away from her. She notices before he can, though. She's starring back at him when he starts to sulk at her.

Unimpressed. Smug a little, too. "I was quicker than you and I'm human", she notes, going back to her documents.

"And I don't have a book up my human ass", he shrugs. "Come on, I thought you were adventurous and brave and daring? It's just a quick eyeliner stroke."

"Not two?"

"You know that's what I meant. It'll really bring out your whole glowering murderous look, have you considered that?"

"Don't need it", she shrugs.

There is mischief in that stance. His stance. She's going to ignore it, but then he takes a deep breath and. "Pleasepleasepleasepleas-"

Oh. Yes. She should have excepted that. Kon's someone that's really persistent. She surrounds herself by people like that. Maybe because she herself is. Or because that's something she unintentionally looks for in people? Eh.

"If you let me keep working on my case", she says.

"YES!", he goes, joy so very loud. Over the top. She likes that. It makes her feel happy herself. "Cass, I love you." He says it easily. "I could literally marry you right now. I've been dying to try out this design and I just couldn't figure it out on myself", he goes, wiping a make-up pen straight out of his pocket.

Uh. She didn't know he had it there. She thought it was a blade. He's not Damian though. He's Kon. That changes things.

It doesn't change everything, though.

"Love you too", she tells back. "Not carnally."

"You don't? Uh? Impossible. Everybody is hot for THE Kon", he jokes. She lets him put his hand on her shoulder as she answers back. His love speaks through touch. She wonders what hers come out like. Maybe she'll ask someone someday. She doesn't think she will. As long as people she cares for know she does, she's okay with things.

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Cass still doesn't really get that difference between appreciating someone and loving them. If she likes someone, then surely that means she loves them, no?

She knows platonic love and romantical love are different, theoretically. But every time she has had a love story, it turned into friends, and when she has friends, she loves them just as much as she does... everyone she loves, pretty much. So.

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Brenda sends her a text. On the same moment she is thinking about her. It's a little funny, the coincidence. Usually, she wouldn't answer, because she prefers face to face conversations than textual ones.

She makes an exception.

She doesn't reach out. And it's been a while. She knows she isn't someone that people usually forget, but. Still. It makes her chest a little tingly, this reminder Brenda is still there. In a good way. In the way that means warmth.

It's just a picture of a potted plant. It's her potted plant. Still alive.

She is smiling down at the screen of a phone she never really uses. She answers the picture with a thumb up emoji. She thinks she is maybe going to write an answer, too.

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She doesn't have a lot of civilian friends. She doesn't have a lot of friends, also. Simply.

It's not something she minds. Civilians are weaker, and her life isn't very calm. If it's something that makes people safer, then she's okay with not having many friends.

She still feels a little envious when she sees the girls and the boys in her dance class joking around. It's dumb. She has friends. She laughs, too.

It's not envy, because she has friends that she loves, and she enjoys looking at people being happy, observing them from away. It's not envy. Not even longing. It's weird is what it is.

Maybe because they look like they don't worry about trying to label what they have as love. Cass does, because her relationships feels weirder than the ones she is seeing. Maybe it's that she envies, sometimes. The simplicity of knowing.

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The waiters are doing their jobs. Waiting. Behind the counter. To see if the both of them are gonna be ordering again, mainly. It's something they do very often, so they got used to it over time.

"Oh he absolutely hates that place, and in his very guts probably. It's hilarious."

"That's dumb. It's good."

"I mean, Bruce can be stupid", Steph says, suddenly almost downcast. Not entirely, obviously, because she is rarely entirely downcast but. Still.

Cass changes the subject, because, their life don't revolve around him. And she doesn't want Steph feeling down. It's why they're here, originally. To distract Steph from what she was apparently feeling.

"Yeah. Their fries are the best. ...Fuck him. Want mine?", she says, since Steph's done with hers.

"Your fries? Really?", she asks even as she takes one of the offered ones before Cass can even answers. She does anyway.

"Yeah."

"Wow. I feel honoured. Did you put too much sauce, or?"

"Nope", she says, dipping the last of her nuggets in the leftover of her chilly sauce. Entirely.

"Were they poisoned? No way they messed up on the fries of gotham ever. This is literally the best part of their menu, they'd be doomed if that was the case", she continues.

Cass only smiles as she observes Steph's dramatic movements, a small little thing that's tucked on her face.

Steph is dramatic. It's entertaining. She doesn't bother explaining to Steph the real reason she gave her her fries. It's more nice listening to her theories derailing as she tries to figure it out.

Steph's smile is back on her face, and it's bright. Clear. It's a nice thing to see.

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Steph's hand is nearing her own. It stills before it reaches it. She takes it. Easily. Maybe that's her language, holding the hand of the people she loves.

This is love, definitely. What kind exactly, she doesn't always know, but she's alright with that for now. She answers as Steph talks, and that's what matter in the moment.

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Cass gets in through the window. The woman barely looks up when she does. She got used to it, long ago. She acknowledge her with a sign of her head. Go back to looking at the screen. Cass joins her for a while. The silence gets longer before she interrupts it.

"Barbara."

"Yes?"

"Do you appreciate me or. Do you love me?"

She blinks. Both of them do, really.

"Well. I thought the answer to that was obvious."

It's not. Not really. Not always. Appreciation and love still seems so similar, to Cass. It's complicated. Love is, really.

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They stay silent a lot, the two of them. But then they're also talking. Really talking. Exchanging. It's different than when they first met. Cass's speaking usually, for one. Not just Barbara anymore.

And she feels listened to, when she does. It's not even something she's always conscious of, but she is, usually. It's nice.

They don't talk much, this time. Barbara asks her if she wants to, and she doesn't, not really. She's okay with letting it go.

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She likes it, whatever is her and Barbara's relationship. It's difficult to put a word to it. It's okay. She prefers it like that. It doesn't need to have a definition. Love doesn't need to have one, too. It's easier that way.

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She is back at the manor, for now, even if Bruce isn't in it, and there is a familiar voice telling her welcome back, even if its so late in the night and she's dragging mud in. Probably why the voice is a little snarky, below its calm. She is told there is food waiting for her in the kitchen. It was prepared by a sibling she doesn't think like her all that much.

She doesn't consider love and its meaning this time. She knows this thing is a type of love, whatever one it is. So she just lets it be. Keeps it at that.

When she comes back with a pillow for Barbara's neck and a blanket, the beep is back again.

Uhm. Fuck. If the lights of the screen are red, that means urgent or to-be-answered. She.. doesn't know how to. She needs to pick the headphones off of Barbara's head, first. Carefully.

Put them on her own head. Click on the biggest button on the sides of them then. Like she saw her do multiple times.

And. "Yes?" she says into the mic.

"C- Orphan? What are.. Is Oracle okay?", a worried Signal asks.

Okay. Her voice successfully went through. Nice. "Yeah. Just sleeping. Chose not to wake her up. You need my help ? I can come."

"Uh. Okay." He says, going along with it without questions, then he is cursing a muffled "shit". Means he's in trouble, surely. "No, not asking for backup, don't worry", he goes immediately after. Uh.

"You sure?" She asks, half ready to leave if needed.

"Yeah. Promise. I just needed Oracle's help with something but, well.."

"I can, too" she is saying confidently without knowing if she can. Probably. "Help. I got it."

"Okay. Can you look through the city's camera then ? I need a view of Crime Alley. "

".. Yeah. Okay."

The mouse pad is still under Barbara's hand. Hand that she didn't tuck below the blanket yet. She places it on the sleeping woman's lap as soon as the mouse is free from it.

Then she looks up at the screen. The interface is.. a lot. Complicated. There are a lot of folders and so many things Cass is convinced Barbara is lost, too, when she looks at it. Uhm. There is no search option anywhere.

Luckily, there's a lot of open apps and programs everywhere, and Cass finds the one she needs pretty quickly.

"Okay. Specific coordinates?"

"Uh, yeah, lemme just..."

A moment later, and there is a tiny flash of white in the corner of Cass' vision. She turns her head around and ends up in front of a.. channel called "Si".

The numbers are waiting there.

"Found it. What, now?"

"Okay. Neat. Gonna need to be told if you see anyone coming in the direction of my location, I'm trying not to be seen."

"Can't you.. use your shadow trick?"

"Nah. I need to make sure there's really nobody in the warehouse before I go. And to be motion-free when inside. Can't do that sticking to the shadows.

"Okay." She squints at the screens. There are a lot of cameras shots, and they look like they're covering all the strategical points. She can see Duke, in one of them. "Step back. If you don't want cameras to see you, too."

"Yeahh, no, not what I was intending. Thanks."

He is gone from the screen, and Cass looks at the others to check for any people.

"Hm. You want nobody at all to be around, or some are okay?"

None's Duke's answer, so Cass goes to stare at the screens diligently.

None is complicated to spot. She is being cautious, but it's more difficult than stake-out missions in the flesh. She keeps thinking there is no-one around, almost telling Duke to go, then, no. Interrupts herself in the middle of her sentence, and says never mind.

She isn't sure how Barbara does this all so well. More than because of practice, she thinks.

"Honestly, getting ready to mix coffee and soda. I'm sorta dying during the evening."

"Not smart. You'd... explode, I think."

"That'd sucks so bad. What's the use in being a meta if I can't do a little experimentation?"

"Light and shadow powers?"

"You forgot some. Like. My sight. And! my healing factor."

"Okay... Maybe you could try the explosive drink, then."

"Are you really telling me to explode myself?"

"No. Only... checks if you would. And-"

She checks quickly one more. She is sure this time: "Hurry. You can go into the warehouse right now."

"Oh, great, fucking finally!", Signal whispers, and then she is hearing him rush across the line.

She does not have any visuals. She keeps all the camera open, though. In case someone comes and she needs to tell Signal. ...She doesn't know if Signal want to be told. Fuck. She didn't ask and now it is too late because he needs to be moving discreetly. In there. Trying to avoid fights.

Waiting is long. Longer than when her and Signal were occasionally chatting.

She would rather be out there. But, Barbara is still peacefully sleeping, and. Cass still doesn't want to wake her up.

She will if Signal takes more than the planned 15 minutes to stop spying and come out.

"Footage has been obtained", Signal informs her 13 minutes into her wait, quiet still but tone cheery.

"Wohoo", she whoops, then glance guiltily at the shape of Barbara to her right. Oops. She is still sleeping, actually. Cass is going to worry about it as soon as she can stop worrying about Duke. "Everything went ok?"

"Yeah. My ass wasn't discreet enough and I had to beat theirs but! They're blinded for now and most on the ground, so. Sucess.

Oh. That really was the weird glitching white thing that the closest camera did, then.

"...Cops or no cops?", she asks.

"Cops. Not yet though."

"Ok. 15 minutes?"

"10's alright."

"Alright," she unintentionally echoes. "Will you still need coms help after?"

"Nah, I don't think so. I'll call back if I need?"

"Ok with me."

"Neat. Okay. Thanks for earlier. Sneaking in was a realll piece of cake compared to when I go alone."

"You're welcome," she smiles at the scren"... I don't know where the button to finish the call is" There's too much. She could just explore her way through finding it but. She doesn't want to break his program. Barbara is too stressed already.

"Pff-," Duke threatens to crack up. He has the decency to hide it a little. At least? "I've got this, don't worry."

And then she is alone in the room again. Barbara is still sleeping. She is going to make her a hot drink for when she'll woke up.

One of the first times Cass remembers feeling pain isn't too drastic. It was light, even. She had just scratched some of the skin of her knee off of it. Not even enough to turn into a noticeable scar. But pain came with something else, and it was dripping from her knee, down to the ground. It stung, and she was looking at it. Curiosity.

She wondered why the liquid that hurt was the one escaping her skin, and not the liquid there on her hand after she touched her knee. It made sense, a little. But also not, to her maybe-4-years-old mind.

That was the first time Cass ever saw blood.

The first time she saw someone else's blood directly dripping from their skin, she was... Older. Around 6. Holding a knife to a man's throat, and her blade dug in a little. A bead followed the line of the blade onto her sleeve. The man was both terrified and something like impressed. And then her father started clapping, and she left both the man and the knife alone.

The last time a man was that terrified of her as a child, and she didn't stop, she ran as fast as she could after. It was intentional, running. Far, far away from the lack of relief, and far from the liquid spread across her fingers.

She tried avoiding it, after. She couldn't much.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

After really turning, she quickly figured out she needs to keep on feeding herself. If she manages to eat multiple times a day, she feels more replenished than she usually is. When she doesn't, the tips of her fingers tint blue, her gaze grows colder, and she gets more... distanced from the people around her.

Willingly.

It scares her, then, because then at some point, she starts looking at them in a way she hates. Her gaze trails on exposed skin and wrists. She finds herself almost stuck, and when dragging her head away from the direction, she's upset it feels more difficult than it should be.

When she starts going on too long without giving in to her thirst, she starts feeling more and more like a rabid dog. Or like. A wild wolf, sometimes domesticated, still one that'd do anything to give in to its deeper instinct. Just because of blood.

She hates how her head starts to falter. How she almost loses all her mind with the difference in the shapes of her thoughts. It's upsetting. Frustrating. Oh, her heart starts to falter, too.

She used to hang around the stands of food vendors, to dig into the discarded food of restaurants, but it wasn't enough. She needed more, always. People looked at her in a way she didn't want to decipher, and she stared right back. At least it's different now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time Steph offers her her blood, Cass snarls and goes to disappear into the shadows before the girl can start offering skin. She had shared her nature before, simply because she wanted to, but. She should have known Steph would do this.

She saw her caring nature in action. She should have know Steph would offer. She didn't think she'd be that dumb.

"No", Cass says. Half-shouts towards Steph's direction. The blonde's expression stays as firm and resolute. There is a little confusion in it too. She doesn't understand. Cass hates that.

"Why? I'm offering, it's not like I'd mind", she says, and she is even thrusting her wrist in front of her, the blood pulsating underneath the sleeve, the veins not showing but still present and visible if...

"No", Cass repeats again. She isn't sure her voice comes as resolute or as a quiet shout. It must not be powerful enough, because Steph insists.

She refuses again. Steph doesn't turn her wrist away. "Come on! You need it, don't lie to me. I can literally see you turning whiter than Barbara is."

She hesitates. This is what she hates the most, out of all of this: she almost considers it. And then, "I don't want your blood", she is hissing, coming to her senses, pushing the arm away.

Hurt flashes across Steph's face.

She doesn't bother explaining things to her so the hurt will fade. Cass could tell her, that drinking from people's very veins might make her be thing she doesn't want to be. She doesn't tell anything. She turns, and then she is gone from the room.

That's the first time. The other aren't any easier. It's still easy to leave it unexplained, though. More than explaining.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It's a good thing vampires don't need permissions to leave a room. That'd be unpractical. She leaves a lots of rooms. It happens when she leaves Barbara's tower for day and night patrols, but also very often when she leaves Steph in her room after the first ones.

It happens when she is acting-out her civilian life, too. If she had to ask coffee-shops owners to leave their store, it could be really annoying sometimes.

Maybe she wouldn't be affected by that law, though. Like she is with some others. Sun doesn't burn her skin off, for example. She wouldn't be having those thoughts while waiting in the line to buy her groceries, if she was. She'd be away. In her windowless safe-place.

It'd suck. She wouldn't be able to hear the laughs of children when they go out of school and back to their home, for example.

This is maybe luck, then. She doubts it.

The line to checkout advances again, and it's her turn. The a-little-high employee judges her silently when she puts down her four packs of pre-heated nuggets. She doesn't say hello back, since there wasn't a first hello. Just nods. Pay for her things.

It's a slow process, her thirst. At first, her throat is just a little uncomfortable. Steph calls it her "vampirism colds phase". She starts to get more sensible. Swallowing things like water and carrots and slices of cake gets uncomfortable. Meat is the last of the thing she can eat without gagging. It's okay. She likes meat. It gets more annoying when that goes, too.

At least it doesn't take over her like it does for vampires. Not really. It takes over her every senses, but not her every thoughts. Not all of them. She can focus on other things. Have conversations. Be close to humans, even bleeding ones. She can ignore it. When veins hums their songs, she just has to shrug it off of her mind, usually.

It gets more difficult when her body starts to protest with more than just her throat. She usually ignores that, too.

The employee doesn't say goodbye when she leaves, so she doesn't say it either. She waves to the little girl that was looking at her all wait-time long, though. Doesn't ignore her staring like her mind is whispering her to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm going back to work", Barbara puts her plate away. "You're not done with your nuggets?"

"I'm eating them", Cass answers. Pushes her fork around.

The woman cocks a eyebrow, but that's pretty much it. Her body stay relaxed. No argument to come. Cass wants it to stay like that.

It does, because Barbara turns away without pressing. "Okay, I'm taking mine for my shift then. Feel free to come grab some later if you want."

"Okay. I'll see. Good shift", she stands up with her plate in hand.

"You're leaving for patrol already?"

"Yeah", she says.

"Wear your earpiece this time, then."

"...Always do."

"Wear it, Cass. I don't have super hearing. And go speak to Steph, will you? I can't believe I'm saying that, but her silence is actually slowly killing me."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time Steph offers again isn't too different. They're in her bedroom. They're back from a patrol that was a bit tiring. But not exhausting. Cass' thirty, but it's a thirst that's manageable.

It's just, days later from their last (one-sided) conversation, and this time Steph is even less discreet with her glances. She keeps looking up at her face. Steph lasts for not even a minute before she offers her veins, or her 'personal stock'. Her words. Not Cass's.

"No" is Cass's only answer. Steph frowns, at that.

"Won't you wither away and shrivel up and die if you don't drink blood at some point?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"Not like I would know. You've never explained what it means to be a vampire, Cass! And you except me to know what being half of a vampire is? You do need blood, right? I read some of Barb's books and they say you do, so are they wrong or..."

That's a lot of questions. Cass doesn't bother answering them all. She goes. "No. Not like a vampire do."

"Yeah, well, you still need blood, then. And I can- Are you leaving again? Seriously?"

Cass stops near the window. "I'm not. I'm..."

"You look even paler than last time, and that was already bad enough. Seriously. You're looking like Tim. Or like, the moon, which i guess does fit your aesthetic but, seriously. Do you really hate the idea of me helping you that much, or?"

"No. You're being... dramatic. I just. Don't need your blood. Okay?"

Steph doesn't answers okay. Her face gets all somber, and Cass makes her decision before she can say anything else. Something that isn't going to be a grumbled okay. "Goodbye", she leaves. See you tomorrow, she doesn't think of adding. Even if they're supposed to see each other tomorrow again. Even if it's been an habit of their for a long time now, seeing each other almost each day.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She takes care of her wound on her own, later. Her cheeks gain some colors back. They gain a bit of warmth. That's good enough.

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It's a daily part of her life now. Still is. The screams, people, and her thirst. Even after. After all these years and the first and only time. After she learnt how to hide fangs and the gleam in her eyes. Usually, it's only vampires and the humans she fight that looks at her with anger in their eyes. Or fear, near the end. She doesn't care about that: sometimes, it even contempt her, their feelings.

But some times, when the fear is in other eyes, she minds it more. A lot. When it's in the eyes of normal, not badly intentioned humans, she minds a lot.

Today, a man stares back at her with something more than just fear in his eye, and her hear-rate that was being slowing down recently suddenly picks up. Harshly.

Like the terror, primal, everything, in the man eyes probably is to him. (Harsh.) He is not supposed to look at her like this. And not when she is wearing her mask that hides the sharpness of her eyes and teeth, too. He's not supposed to see anything that hint at what she is. He still does.

She freezes, during a moment, and it's enough time for the Barbara in her ear to ask what's going on. The man goes to speak, he starts to probably beg and she rips off the earpiece without thinking about it.

The man moves back, and the ugly emotion is in every part of his body. It's in his trembling fingers, and it's in his eyes.

It's in hers, too. A worst one, maybe even. She tries to tell the man, young and yet older than her, that it's okay. She can't.

She rips off the part of her that is metaphorically stuck to the man's jugular, and then she is moving away from him, and from it. She can't. She can't do it again. She won't.

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The following day, she remembers her teeth sinking into flesh even when she knows she didn't. She went away, and she even took to the roofs to avoid being tempted. She excluded herself away from people on purpose, from anyone. And she forced herself to sleep to escape giving in. And. She succeeded.

She's okay now. She still feels bad. The feeling is still there. It's. Guilt, maybe. The familiar walls of the room around her remind her that here, she is in control of everything. It's not really enough to make the feeling in her chest goes away.

She'll go out again tonight, when there'll be less humans outside and maybe vampires out and about. There will be. If she's lucky.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third time Steph is offering, Cass still refuses. She doesn't even know why. She is hungry enough that even unhealthy, good fast-food food isn't enough to quench her any longer. Steph is offering, and she sounds so very comfortable with it, too. 

She should say yes. She could. But, also, she doesn't. Something inside of her, that isn't the part of her like the hungry wolf she sometimes thinks she might turn into, refuses.

Instead of a yes, she switches the subject to the last time Steph watched her favorite show of the moment. Steph lets it go this time, maybe because they are having a movie afternoon and it is important to them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kids out during the nights of Gotham are pretty rare. Homeless kids too. They try to stay away from its shadows. Maybe it is instinctual: on some level, maybe they are aware what moves in those same shadows, like how Cass instinctually knows to fight.

She is happy about it, really. It's nice vampires have less of a chance to bleed them dry, since they have the extra step to get in houses and shelters.

She does miss it a little, seeing children turn the streets of Gotham lively, though. She misses those periods she goes out during the day and get to see the life they bring to Gotham. She likes it, observing what games they create, for example.

Tonight, the streets are bleak. Sad. Empty.

Cass's actually not too upset about that last thing.

"Cass? What are you doing?", Barbara says after calling her for the second time. She picks up the line this time.

"Observing", she omits. Doesn't technically lie.

"When do you think you're coming back?"

"Three hours. Maybe."

"You're not coming back before the morning?"

Barbara's eyebrow probably raised up, there.

"Yes. Still sleeping soon. Don't worry", Cass answers, not explaining more. She just has a place to goes before she gets some sleep in. It's becoming more urgent to now now. She doesn't explain, though, because Barbara is alright with her going where she wants.

"Oh, I'm not worried, you can do whatever you want.", the woman says, voice 'earnest' in her own way . "Just don't stay up longer than 72 hours again. Trust me, that's really useless in the long run."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her teeth sink a little into her mouth. They graze at the skin there, the part of it that's inside. Steph keeps on looking at her, and she doesn't go anywhere this time. They're having a normal conversation, and Steph isn't talking about their issue. She hasn't made any offers today. Not even any of her less than discreet suggestions. She hasn't been, for a while. That's good. They are alright.

"That's bad", she says in between two of Steph's complaints.

" I know. It's like, can't they be more careful? Yes they have a lot to do but still, they could be a little more cautious. It probably could literally grow mold, maybe even create a whole new creature if nobody find it back. My mom won't stop complaining."

"She's still tired?"

"Well, duh. And that's not really helping."

"She still has exams, too?"

And just like that, the subject of the conversation shift to exams and the hell they apparently are. Cass doesn't understand all the intricacies of medicine school and internships and hospitals, but Steph's a good explainer, and an even better story-teller. It's pretty easy, following along. It's a pretty good distraction, too.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun is up today. It's a nice change of things. The streets looks different, like that.

Cass finds herself wanting to go walk in them. Just as someone would be seen by a similar person, just going on about their lives.

Some minutes later, she is walking amongst people, only thing she brought being her cap.

It's great. She didn't lock her door when she left, but this is okay. Even if she is going to stay out a while, she's not worried about being robbed. She is more busy enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin, and the underlying joy in people's movement. Some are worried, some are hurrying, but mostly they are happy, currently. It's nice.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

She is a natural at fighting. It's in her nature to be. It's one of the things in life she is perfect at doing, and here, she is 100 percent perfect. Not slow. Not hesitant. Not disoriented, or weak, or anything.

She is just confident today, and it is enough. She gets the gun out of the hand of the man easily enough. The woman trying to sneak up on her, she easily disarms as well with a fast movement. Jumps back when she tries to punch her. Avoid the coming-up punch from the second one, then. Swirls, and hit back. Avoid again. Takes a second to grab the stolen bag when they turn around and tense to run away. Pursues.

She missed this, the feeling in her chest, beating, beating, beating, of action, of its thrill.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't know. I thought this was just an accident, but two time isn't a coincidence. I'm honestly thinking it could be a vampire that stole them", Cass overhears Steph talking to Barbara through her headphones.

She pauses. Steps back a little before Barbara can see her. Not that she would, since she's busy answering Steph and Cass is more discreet than regular humans are, but she does anyway.

"A vampire? No, they would have taken more than just a single one. I don't think they would have left any, in fact. I'm not seeing anything in the recordings, though, so maybe..."

She sounds puzzled. Troubled, too.

Cass goes to prepare Barbara some coffee before she can see her. She's gonna need it, she thinks. Coffee doesn't do anything for her, but it helps Barbara, apparently.

The woman drinks a lot of it. She tells her to go buy some for her each time Cass asks to go on groceries-shopping.

It's been a while since Cass last went. She'll go soon. She can do that again, now. Moving and energy doesn't have to be saved for fights anymore. It's practical. And she missed going out when it wasn't night, too.

Coffee prepared now, she leaves it on the kitchen table and stretch, even if she isn't feeling tired.

Blood rushes through her veins when she does that. The feeling's not that disturbing. She is getting used back to this, the blood rushing freely through her, not slowed by anything, not .

It's not too much later that Barbara joins her in the piece they call living-room, barely avoiding rolling over the plate left there on the ground.

"Oooo, that place's becoming a mess", she announces herself, bit of false cheer in her mouth. "Just another thing to worry about added to the list"

Cass doesn't offer her the coffee, because Barbara already has a cup in one hand. She presents her a slice of crusted over pizza, though. The last one of the box. She saved it on purpose, even if the pizza was delicious. "You need help with the things?", Cass asks.

"Already took care of that plate", Barbara shrugs, putting it down on the table. "Thanks, but I already ate. You can have it."

Cass doesn't jump at the food. Really. She just takes it very quickly, and very enthusiastically.

" I wouldn't mind you looking into other problems, though", Barbara notes, amusement in her voice.

"Started cleaning the kitchen", she says, adding it to her list of things to continue doing. Cleaning the kitchen, buying ginger and maybe fresh carrots to make soup,

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that. Would you mind looking into a problem we've been having? Steph and I. She just told me about it, there was another intrusion at Gotham's Central hospital. We think it might be a rogue vampire, they only have been stealing packs of blood, but they're not showing on any cameras. We're worried about the patients and the nurses. It'd be nice if you could keep an eye out, just in case.

"Oh. That. No need. I took them", she says, half focusing on finishing the pizza.

"What."

Barbara's voice is so cold, and so suddenly, that Cass instantly looks up. Barbara's voice never is like that with her. Not now that she knows Cass is partially a vampire, and that explained things she didn't get before, at least. Her voice isn't supposed to be freezing anymore.

"Yeah?", she says, a bit of hesitance in the way she finishes her pizza. "I was running low. On blood. Couldn't fight, also . So. I went again."

"You went again-? So you've been doing that "

"Only when I really need to."

"Cass. What? Are you seriously saying you're the one breaking into the hospital? You can't be serious. Those blood packs are donations."

"Yes., she says, and her confusion is likely more than noticeable in her voice. This is exactly why she took them. Why she chose the hospital.

"Those were meant for people in need, Cass. They're meant to save people. Why did you..."

"I'm saving people too", she says, just short of defensive. She's more confused than anything.

"Cass! Those packs of blood are what keeps some patients alive, do you realize that? They need them more than you do. This is more than just feeding for some of them, it's what keep them breathing."

Oh. Oh.

"I... I thought they. Weren't that important. I didn't want to harm anyone, so I just..."

You thought wrong, Barbara might have said. Cass doesn't know. She feels nauseous, suddenly, even if she drank blood recently enough that real food is still fine for her again.

She thought wrong. She didn't even think about that possibility. She thought it was alright. It isn't.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

If doing great with her curse isn't enough to overtake the inherent bad it does, then. What is she supposed to be doing? Blood flows easily in everyone's veins but hers. Sometimes, it doesn't. Fixing it isn't fixing things. At all. It's the opposite.

She is persistent, she figures things out, but that solution was her last one. For the past decade of her life.

It's hard to imagine something that doesn't exist. That'd be magic, and magic doesn't exist, or it doesn't in the way she could just ask a spell to fix this. It exists when it creates creatures that aren't supposed to exist, but it doesn't exist anymore when it'd be impractical. Cruel.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The place she is renting as her safe-house isn't perfect. She still likes it, because it does its jobs, but she never really had to, live in it. Usually, it's only a few nights every few months, until she fixes her problem and drink blood again.

She isn't used to living in it for longer, though. There isn't a bed, because at those points when she comes here, bed and floor feels pretty much the same. So she just sits on the floor. It's not too annoying. It's just a different organization than the room that is hers in the clocktower.

There's more surface to lay things around, instead. Like. Food. Food wrappings. Papers. Newspapers.

But no lights for her to be able to read. Except maybe for the stream reaching underneath the lowest part of the door, that's refusing to be concealed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

She goes on patrol before the sun goes down for a while, but at the strategical times. When the city is busier. Agitated. Too busy to have time to laze around. The movements everywhere, all around her, is what she focuses on.

She goes out during the night too, but more in the streets and in places she usually doesn't go to. They're usually pretty calm, but. It can always change. So she checks more than she usually does.

The nights go quickly when she is doing that. She ends them when they start to become mornings, and sometimes after the sun is up. Today, the moon is there and the sun isn't out yet.

Cass stops blocks before she gets close to her safehouse. Safe-apartment. Whatever. She stops and she doesn't turn immediately. She is reached very quickly. Steph doesn't look that unhappy, but there is a tenseness in her that's more telling than her words.

"It's harder to get an hold on you than even Bruce, seriously." Light. Not angry. Yet.

"So.. are you on a case? It's been a while", she says, undeterred by her silence. Like nothing changed.

She must takes it as a negation. Her tone is a little accusatory, next. "You haven't been on your regular patrol route."

A street light shine on Steph's face, half hidden by the cloth.

"Hello? Anyone there? Did you get hit by any gas? Is anything up?"

"No," Cass finally says. Like a coward.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cass is doing more observing than living with the people she is supposed to protect, recently. She still is. Protecting. Just. From a little further away than usual. Cass is sticking to the shadows more.

Steph doesn't run back into her again.

The city is still sunny.

The rays of sunshine aren't something she really feels, in the shadows she's keeping herself in.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time, ever, there's a bottle of blood in front of her door. She blinks. Multiple times. On purpose.

Hallucinations aren't part of her loss of blood. That only happens when she has near-death experiences, not when her heart stops beating because no blood is pumping it anymore.

This.. is not a hallucination. It's not some weird offering from a weirdly-intentionned vampire, either. (This isn't a peace-offering. Can't be. Vampires avoid her, usually.) Cass knows because the bottle is surrounded by a gift wrapper that screams the identity of who it belongs to. There's sparkles. There's never sparkles in this part of Gotham Cass chose for her hideous.

A bit wary, Cass picks the bottle up. It's sloshes around. The sound is odd in the silence. She tears at the wrapping, and the red in the bottle moves around. There's no messages. She still knows who it's from.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She can't go out during the day, now. Or. Not as easily. She still does, but then she'll sleeps through the night instead of helping people and stopping other badly-intentioned ones. She hasn't been doing enough helping recently.

It's weird, not having Barbara in her ear checking in or telling her where to go for trouble. She isn't used to it anymore.

But. She doesn't regret leaving the earpiece back at the Tower. It's. Well. Barbara can't come to her easily. Like for Steph. It's been two weeks, and she was only reached out to twice. Once by Steph. For the second, she is counting all the times Barbara sent her messages before her phone stopped having battery.

Cass isn't ready to go back and talk yet. Can't. Until she find a solution to her problem.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She stops herself just before punching the man unconscious. Or dead. She didn't think she would go this far again. Fuck.

She doesn't know what to do now. Taking the blood from the hospital was supposed to let her not hurt anyone, but now. It doesn't.

And she has to drink blood, because that's part of her, and because ignoring it doesn't work, but what solutions are there now? Her blood's not her's, and it's not human. Vampire blood doesn't work. Not animals' too.

There was only one option left before. It worked just well. The blood from the transparent packets isn't an option anymore.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The next bottles have bows wrapped around them, instead of the sparkly wrapping. Cass has no clue why the change. She also has no clue why Steph keeps making her gifts. It is. Weird. She never asked for it. Never even told her anything about blood, or how she needs it, or what amount. Didn't tell her about how she was feeding previously, too.

Barbara did, maybe. Cass doesn't understand why Steph didn't confront her about it. She would have, if she was Steph. She would have been so upset. Feeling so betrayed. Horrified.

By the fourth bottle, Cass finally gives in to Steph's silent insistence. It's been maybe around a month, and last nights were harder and harder. Last morning, she hissed at the stream of light underneath the door. The morning was also close to 5PM, because she's been sleeping more and more. Like her heart is saving up her energy to last her longer. It might be what's happening.

Probably is. She's a little more than sure about it.

She drinks it. Fully. The bottle, that still has the Fanta wrapping around it, ends up empty. Not a drop left. She sets it down. Empty, and she isn't feeling guilty for it. For how she drained it empty. She feels satisfied, even. Only a bit. Her throat feels relieved, itching almost fully gone.

She hesitates. A little. It hasn't been 42 days yet. Not even half. The last bottles didn't turn bad. She shouldn't, but.

Then, again, this is the first time in long that her thirst was almost entirely satisfied. She gives up. Draws her head back, and that first bottle of blood is almost empty entirely. And, for maybe the first time, she doesn't feel hungry. At all.

She almost cries.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

When she tackles Steph into a hug, the tears do drop this time. Kind of. No drops of blood ended on the floor or even the side of her lips, not even a single one, but there's lot of tears escaping her eyes.

The girl says something, pitch high with surprise, probably at the door being thrown open and then almost thrown to the floor, but. Cass honestly didn't hear. She is more busy with the fact she gets to be close to Steph without being bad about the smell of her veins. Or feeling bad about anything, too. This is. She-

"Yes, yes, I'm glad you're not hibernating anymore too?", the girl says, voice pulsating underneath where Cass's ear ended up.

"Where?", she says, question meant to be obvious.

"uh. In what I assume is your house?", Steph says, pushing herself away from Cass to make eye contact temporarily .

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she lets go of her arms around Steph, they finally speak. She lets her in inside what she calls her apartment before, though.

"Where did you get them?", Cass asks, clarifies, later.

"Oh, that. ...Volunteers. That I made sure were alright with giving you their blood, don't worry. Well, I didn't tell them exactly everything, but they knew enough. To not care. Are you gonna..."

Cass doesn't get teary-eyed that often. When she does, though, it's hard to stop. She cries in Barbara's arms a while, the really rare times it happens. Here, she wipes at her eyes again and again until they stay dried up. It's easy to stop, even if it's been months since last time. Maybe because there isn't that much water in vampires bodies. Not enough to. Or maybe because she hasn't really been drinking often.

Steph helps, too, because she is joking around and judging the decorations in her flat. They don't talk more about blood. She doesn't bring up the mold on the food that Cass didn't have the appetite to eat, either. Just glances and quips about it until Cass throws it out.

They should talk, probably. Really talk. In the profound way. About everything that comes with Cass being what she is. (The thirst, the sometime-slowing of her heart, the occasional slowing of her body, all of that.)

But they don't, even if Steph probably really wants to, and Cass doesn't feel selfish for it in the moment. Or at all, really.

If Steph asks, maybe she'll answer this time.

He insisted they did, but she still didn't get it. Cass was squinting at him at this point. Dick confuses her sometimes, but more in the emotional way. Where she doesn't always know what to react with. Not in the confusing language way.

Here, it was like, the language talked in was another language that the only one she spoke. A language with all the references she doesn't get.

The rest of the drive went quiet, and it still is now. But. Dick isn't used to it, the quiet, not like she has always been. So it doesn't surprise her too much when he speaks up next.

"Hey. You want me to tell you Snow-White's story? It's pretty interesting."

Cass isn't that interested in the silence being broken. But she is also still curious, and last time Dick told her a fairy tale, it was.. nice. One of the first moments she shared with him.

So she says yes.

The story goes. Kind of like this.

The father is gone again and the mother still as badly intentioned. It's just like Cinderella, again. Authors of tales aren't... too creative, she thinks. Parents that aren't perfect are not something new.

The mother of Snow-white asks for her daughter to be killed, and Cass wonders why she couldn't do it herself. The father is absent, and Cass is asking herself why he didn't take the daughter with him. It makes sense fairy tales are meant for children, because, they don't make sense. When thought over. The thing she gets the less is Snow-White. She should have known, no? Noticed the intentions of her mother.

The hunter is more relatable than the princess in the story. Because, yes Snow-white fled, but. The hunter too, in a way. From what he was meant to do.

Dick is acting out the story, one hand on the wheel. The other is, spinning as he talks. In the air. Again. Like their first fairytale. Back when she went to Blüdhaven for the first time ever.

Cass wonders if this how fairytales are supposed to go. He did it too last time. When he told her about the... sleeping lady. sleeping beauty. Maybe his tradition is common. Maybe this is how fairy tales are supposed to be told.

"There isn't a fairy in the story", she notes in one of his pauses. When he stops for breath. When he says this is almost the end of the story, this time.

Snow-white hasn't been poisoned yet. He spoiled that part. But there also hasn't been a fairy, yet. Fairy tales are always supposed to end well if she trusts what he said. She does, but she doesn't see how it could here.

"Yeah, that's kind of click-baiting, but who are we to know. Maybe Grumpy is a fairy in hiding and having a crisis about it?"

Pff. That's dumb, kind of. But it'd make for a better story, probably. More, interesting?

She tells Dick just that, and he snorts, and agrees. He goes to continue the story, after. How Snow-White learns to live with the dwarves and how she does everything for them, and. How she talks to animals and a man.

There is an hesitant smile on her lips. She doesn't know exactly why, because the story isn't funny. Maybe the parts where Dick does the dwarves are, but. That's it. The rest is either sad, or just... incoherent. Absurd. Or, frustrating. She doesn't think she likes Snow White.

Still, when the city line of Gotham gets visible, she is almost disappointed.

When the road is now Gotham's road and they get closer to the way her apartment is, she is. Disappointed. Of, not hearing the end, even if she doesn't think she will like it.

But, Dick takes a wrong turn, and he only pauses in the story to ask her. "You're alright with me finishing the story at the manor?" His head turns her way, when he asks. Hopeful. Also gentle. "I thought it'd be more practical. It could be nice for us to watch the movie with Damian, too."

Oh. She didn't know there was a movie. Of fairy-tales. Those aren't the ones they watch on girls evenings. But, yes, she would like that. It's been long since she saw Damian, too. That'd be nice, also.

She'd like that, a lot. Maybe he could even tell her about the, 'twisted' version, if he has time. Jason is supposed to know it more, but he is not at the manor, usually. Asking him to would be weird, too. She doesn't think he would.

Dick is back to telling her, though, and he is doing it well, she thinks. She should ask Steph how her mom told her stories. Maybe it was the same. Or she could also asks Barbara to do it, maybe. She won't ask, likely. But she keeps it in a corner of her mind.

She doesn't care if it isn't perfect. It sounds like it anyway, the cheer in Dick's voice and his, theatrical expressions. Maybe this isn't going to be a happy ever after like Snowwhite is going to get, but she doesn't care that much.