#casscainweek2026

She was right. The two of them, along with a majority of the family, were gathered in the living room of Wayne Manor, all in their versions of pajamas or lounge wear, waiting for the girl of the hour.

They heard Sol complaining before she appeared, stifling amused laughter. “Kate, I’m seriously fine. As soon as my powers started charging up again, I knew I’d heal. We don’t have to do another check-” She entered the living room, Kate prodding her from behind with a small smile, and for one moment, green eyes flashed and widened in surprise.

“SURPRISE!”

Cassandra couldn’t help but smile. It was a strange sight: A dozen vigilantes standing around a table with a cake, all sharing smiles and grins, and half of them peeled away to pull Sol forward to the group.

“What’s this for? Getting better?” She asked uncertainly, looking around with a polite but confused smile of her own. “You shouldn’t have.”

Jason was the first to answer, leaning on her shoulder. “Nah, kid-”

“Again, I’m older than you.”

“-It’s a celebration for getting your first point in vigilante bingo.”

“...excuse me?” Sol looked around the room again, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, trying to decipher what was clearly a riddle or prank. “Bingo?”

“You beat your first meta,” Stephanie added happily. Cassandra’s chest ached as the blonde released her to hug Sol. “And although it wasn’t technically alone...you also fought off a pack of werewolves before that. So, we’re counting it!”

“It’s a tradition,” Duke sighed, clearly enjoying the experience of explaining this to someone, rather than being the newbie. “My first was sending a villain back to Arkham on my own.”

Cassandra spoke up, crossing her arms and smirking. “Trained by assassins.”

“Came back from the de-” Jason began to chime in, his voice braggish and teasing, until half the room glared at him. Today wasn’t the day for dark jokes.

Then everyone went silent as a new voice spoke behind them. “Let’s keep things lighthearted. We’ve all had to face terrible odds, but Sol...went above and beyond. She deserves a good party.” It was Bruce, wearing an attempt at casual clothes that were Batman sweatpants, a Superman shirt, and sipping out of a Wonder Woman coffee mug. The ridiculous image wasn’t the shocker, but rather him showing up for Sol. The two stared at each other while everyone else held their breath.

“Thanks,” she replied after a moment, green eyes softening. “I knew you guys all had my back, so...it wasn’t that scary.” She smiled, and Bruce returned it, albeit awkwardly.

“Alright!” Kate finally said, grabbing her shoulders and leaning in. “Let’s cut the cake before either of you choke on your words. First slice goes to the werewolf tamer.”

Just like that, the tension broke. People huddled around the cake, walked to their seats, or huddled in pairs to talk. Sol, completely healed and at ease, laughed with her friends and eagerly took her slice of cake. It was a good intermission to the chaos of the last few days.

But there was something Cassandra wanted to finish. Something she couldn’t leave hanging in the air. With quiet determination, she slipped between her siblings and friends, stealing Stephanie’s plate and grabbing the next from Kate. The blonde gasped in mock offense, following her out of the room.

“Excuse you, villain,” Stephanie declared dramatically. “Cake theft is punishable with death!”

Cassandra set both plates down on a small table in the hallway, facing Stephanie with squared shoulders, a straight back, and a look that made her best friend stop in her tracks. They knew each other well enough that the blonde could sense something important coming on. It only made Cass’s heart flutter when she smiled, stepping closer and pushing her bangs back.

“What’s up?”

Here it was. The big moment. Cassandra inhaled deeply, taking Stephanie’s hands. “I love you. Not like Barbara. Not like Bruce. Not like anyone else. You make me feel things I- I cannot control. When we went out as people. I was happy. When you were hurt-” She steps closer, expression bending into one of grief. “-I was scared. Lost. I don’t have a good word for us. I just...want us.”

It had been days since that conversation. Sol’s question: What are they to you? Which had sprung this first conversation. It was followed by her losing control with the werewolves, the second Stephanie had been hurt, and then a light tension as they worked the case.

No more.

“I could think of a few,” Steph whispered, leaning into Cass’s touch. She squeezed her friend’s hand, and Cass could read her like a book. Excitement, anxiety, confusion, impatience, hopefulness- A wonderful and disastrous mix of emotions that made Stephanie the confusing and wonderful person she was. She tugged them both closer. “But I know words and titles don’t do you justice. So…I love you too.”

I love you too.

It felt so stupid to have worried about this. The awkwardness, the tension, the little looks. They loved each other. It was as simple as that. And the pure joy Cassandra felt, more than any moment of her life, was like a bolt of energy through her body. It felt like Sol had overloaded her with Lazarus energy.

“Cass-” Steph gasped, her voice soft and unusually shy, as she closed the distance and captured the blonde's lips in a soft kiss. This initiative was rewarded with a gorgeous whine, as the blonde closed her eyes and moved her free hand across Cass’s face to grip the back of her neck.

The two broke the kiss, foreheads touching as they glanced downwards, grinning and giggling like two stupid girls in one of Cassandra’s old rom coms. They swayed together on their feet, to an invisible tune, taking in the moment together.

“Should we go back to the party?” Stephanie whispered. Cassandra felt her chest rumble and shook her head, much to the others’ amusement. “Maybe another kiss first?”

The two girls giggled and came together again, their lips meeting in fervent but shy exploration, emotions expressed in a way both of them could understand, and no one could ruin this moment.

Not even Sol, who was hiding behind the cracked open door to the living room, with wide green eyes staring from all the way down the hallway. She stepped back, not even daring to close the door lest they hear the click of the knob, and returned to the party with a forced smile.

“He didn’t do anything,” Sol wheezed, sighing as the Batman lifted her in his arms. She was so weak she couldn’t lift her limbs, much less protest. “My choice, Cass.”

“What did you choose?” She asked, sliding her legs off the bed and furrowing her brow with concern. “Sol, what did you do? You were healing. You shouldn’t have-”

Sol grinned, her green eyes dull but definitely still glowing. A good sign. “Just do me a favor and figure...all of this…” Her head slumped back before she could finish her sentence, and Bruce, Bruce, managed to look concerned for her. He set her on the bed, quickly and gently re-attaching the monitor cables and tucking her in.

Cassandra never thought she’d see the day those two agreed on something. And it had been to strain Sol to heal her. In an instant, her blood was boiling. She hopped off the bed, stepping up to Bruce with clenched fists. “You knew she couldn’t handle it. You know how her powers work.”

“She promised me she could handle it. And she did,” Bruce replied in that curt, serious tone of his. Not a father figure, but the Batman. Usually, Cassandra agreed with him, unless he was trying to get her to avoid danger. But this, with Sol, was too much.

“If Dick or me tried to push ourselves like- like that, you would never-” Her voice was getting stuck. The anger and anxiety made it harder for her to speak, to express herself as she’d like. “She can’t handle-”

“If you can sacrifice yourself, then why can’t she?” Stephanie said, finally revealing herself. She was in her Batgirl suit, cowl off, arms crossed, and face tight with guilt. In an instant, Cassandra knew she’d helped allow this to happen. She was here and let Sol and Bruce do this. “You were doing badly. Because you pushed me out of that room, Cass. We were worried and Sol...Sol has already handled worse. We had to let her try.”

“I don’t want any of you- any-” Cassandra’s voice caught. God dammit! Why was it so hard to push past the lump in her throat? To say she didn’t want anyone to get hurt for her sake, much less those close to her. Stephanie, Bruce, Sol, and others like Dick meant the world to her. She wasn’t worth-

“Stop it,” Stephanie whispered, closing the distance to hug Cassandra. “I can see what you’re thinking. Stop it right now.”

Cassandra closed her eyes, stifling her tears. It was too much. In only a few days, everything felt like it had begun falling apart. The werewolves, Stephanie almost dying, Sol pushing herself too hard, and now she had been defeated. Ambushed. And what was all that with Dare-

Oh. Oh. Her memories of last night returned. Daredevil. Matthew. The man from another place, who had spent so much time together. The long talk they had shared. The memories instantly made her feel better. Calmer. Suddenly, everything she felt was bottled up didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. He had helped her.

It’s alright. I think...all it’ll take is some faith.

Faith. Cassandra sighed. If she wanted to do what Sol said and figure out what was going on, then maybe, at least temporarily, she needed to have some faith. There would be time for anger afterwards.

“Why did you wake me up?” Cassandra asked, squeezing Stephanie once before pulling back. Her eyes returned to her father. “If I wasn’t dying, then you must have a good reason. Both of you.”

Bruce nodded, giving Sol one last worried glance, which was still very strange. He nodded to the Bat-computer and led the two Batgirls there. “We looked into Lupita. She took an antidote for the fear gas trap, was only partially affected, and I was able to interrogate her.” Stephanie tensed up. If Bruce had done the interrogation, especially after Cass had gotten hurt, it probably hadn’t been pretty. “Whoever set her up with Sol definitely did so on purpose. Oracle combed years' worth of street and security footage to see that Lupita had been keeping a close eye on Sol. She only went to her job two days a week.”

“Apparently, the director of the asylum was getting bribed to not care,” Stephanie added, sighing. “Money always talks.”

“She’s led us to three locations. One here in Gotham, in the Bowery, near Sol's old apartment. Another in Hong Kong. We think this is a dead end, something her handlers set up to make the trail back to them muddier, and then a closer location in Bludhaven.”

“Batwoman is taking Hong Kong-”

“Batwoman?” Even Cassandra Cain wasn’t immune to surprise, or the occasional outburst. Kate Kane was still a very sore spot for her. Stephanie was quick to explain, taking her hand and squeezing it.

“Kate was more of a mentor to Sol than anyone here,” the blonde explained gently. “She’s just as worried and dedicated to her as we are. And since you were out cold, we needed the backup. Almost everyone else is on their own missions.”

“As I was saying,” Bruce continued, clearing his throat. “Batwoman is taking Hong Kong. Stephanie is taking the Gotham location. I’m taking Bludhaven.”

“I’ll go with Stephanie,” Cass immediately said, standing straight and crossing her arms, daring them to deny her.

“No,” they both replied, turning on her. Okay, wow, she hadn’t expected that. But Bruce continued before she could get angry. “If you’re going to join us, then it will be in Bludhaven with me.” Clearly, he knew her too well, because he continued quickly to avoid her arguments. “Gotham is most likely a living space or outpost for Lupita. Hong Kong is likely a diversion. If there is any real danger, it will be in Bludhaven. I want back-up.”

His argument was solid. In fact, most of the family might have reached the same conclusion. Tim Drake, master detective, or Dick Grayson, the most experienced son of the cowl. However, with Bruce, it was always a double-edged sword. He was too smart. By taking her as back-up, she would be held out of the line of fire, close to home and help, and she would be under his supervision.

He was worried. Scared for her, even. The thought, while always sweet, would usually serve to annoy her. Yet after everything that had happened, Cassandra had to admit she felt...relief. It was nice to be cared about. It always was.

“Alright,” the Batgirl agreed, sighing and nodding. “Let’s finish this.”

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It felt strange to be here without Nightwing, who apparently was on a mission somewhere in South America. It did feel nice to fill in a little bit, Batman and Batgirl swooping into alleyways to stop criminals who practically shit themselves when it was them, not Nightwing, that had come to punish.

What? After all this time, Cassandra had the right to enjoy little bits of her job.

The pair still made sure not to delay their actual purpose for being here for too long. Stephanie had already begun her investigation, supervised by Oracle, and Batwoman had just landed in Hong Kong. Now the two of them found themselves facing a historic building in downtown Bludhaven. Old, like the psych ward, but made of brick. It towered higher and was narrower like a small tower, complete with a bell on top.

“This building used to be a church. The city repurposed it as a shelter. Shut down exactly three years before Sol was admitted to the Elizabeth ward. The city has tried to maintain and reopen it, but a lack of funds or public support continuously stalls the project.” Oracle, vigilant as always, didn’t even need to be asked before providing the information. “Some reports of breaking and entering over the years, a murder, but nothing that would indicate some sinister force using it as a base.”

“Roger, Oracle, we’ll keep you updated on our progress,” Batman spoke into his earpiece, observing the building beside Batgirl from across the street.

It had been a while since the two of them ran a mission together. As in, just them. The moon was hidden behind clouds, making for low visibility. The only part of her mentor that was truly visible was the white skin of his chin and jaw, and the glint of his gold utility belt. Despite how practiced he was at maintaining appearances, stoic nature in body and face, she could read the tension on him even easier than usual. Guilt? Fear? Not for the mission, she realized, but from before. For having Sol heal her.

“We can talk,” Batgirl said quietly. Not a request but permission, given from someone who preferred silence to someone bad at expression. “I’d like that.”

“You won’t like anything I have to say,” he replied, glancing at her before pulling out his grapple gun. The two of them fired across the street, pulling themselves to the roof of the tower and clinging to the wall. “I know you’re mad I allowed her to heal you.”

“Yes.” She didn’t have to say anything else. It wasn’t time yet. Batgirl pulled out a tiny but razor-sharp glass cutter from her belt and easily carved half of a wide circle, then tossed it to Batman, who finished the cut.

He quickly sliced the glass, completing the circle, and pulled out a small suction tool. “It was her idea, but I allowed her. Her pushing her abilities like that, after everything she went through, is my fault.” He attached the tool to the glass, tugging it free. Cassandra pushed off the wall and swung inside, smoothly detaching her grapple from the roof to land without more than a creak. Batman continued as he passed her the piece of glass. “Stephanie didn’t stop us, and you might take that up with her, but it was my call. A call I don’t regret.”

“Continue,” Batgirl said, taking the glass to allow Batman to follow her in, pushing himself off the wall, twisting into a graceful landing, and retracting his grapple. “There’s more.”

“She and I have a difficult relationship,” he continued, footsteps as silent as Batgirl’s, the two walking towards the door. He paused to listen in on the other side, then nodded, opening the door. “You think that makes me more willing to risk her for your safety. For any of you. She’s an outsider. She’s not my child.”

That word made her shiver as she walked into the next room. She did believe those were his thoughts. She also knew they filled him with guilt. A leader shouldn’t be biased like that. Shouldn’t risk lives.

But he did.

“I can’t say I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know it’s not right, Batgirl, but your condition was deteriorating. We didn’t have anything else to give you. She was the only choice, and any of us would have done the same in-”

“I understand.” Not it’s alright, not forgiveness, but understanding. If she could get hurt for Stephanie, risk her life for any of them, if Batman could take a bullet for her, then Sol could strain her powers for them as well. It was her choice. She didn’t have to like it...but in this line of work, she had to accept it. Even if she wished Bruce would have hesitated more. “I do not like it. She doesn’t know what she is doing yet. But...I know her. It wouldn’t matter. And I know you.”

“...alright,” Batman said, scanning the room with her. The two worked in silence for a few moments, opening drawers, looking out the window, scanning the ground and walls for any sign of, well, anything. With a nod from Batman, they opened the door to the stairwell and started making their way down. Batgirl remained silent, knowing her father wasn’t done. He had more to get out. Their eyes met as he opened the next door for her, watching as she scanned the room carefully and nodded.

“Go on,” Batgirl said. Even Batman needed encouragement, from time to time.

“...I’m sorry I can’t get along with her. At least, just yet.”

Those words actually managed to distract the vigilante. She turned around, staring at him with wide eyes hidden behind her mask, heart racing. An apology? For Sol? But he didn’t stop there.

“The fact is, having kids terrifies me,” Batman said, efficiently rummaging through the furniture her, in what appeared to be an office. Despite the clear emotional weight of this talk, he kept the same, even, emotionless voice. “You all know that. We’ve been through the stages of me trying to keep you safe. Out of the line of fire.” He moves to a desk, kneeling to investigate its surface. “Sometimes I still wonder if it was a mistake to let you all risk your lives like this. To be stuck in a cave and symbol. Regardless, it was my choice. Some of you were dropped onto me, but...I chose to take you all in. To teach you. To care.”

Batgirl’s voice is a whisper, pained with realization. “You never chose her.” It felt like a splash of cold water. The way he seemed to immediately reject her, refused to be a main participant in her training, constantly found reasons to hold her back from patrols, and so much more. She had dragged her own stray back home, and everyone had expected Batman to do what he always did: The right thing. I care for her and adopt her. Even worse was the realization that Sol was just as hard-headed as Bruce. She never attempted to get along.

She hadn’t chosen him either.

“I’m...sorry,” Batgirl choked out, which caught her mentor's attention. “I did not realize.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash below them. Both bats froze, listening intently, but nothing followed it. Still, that was too sudden and loud to be a coincidence. Someone was definitely here. With a nod from Batman, the two returned to the stairwell, swinging from the rail to the door below. Batgirl put her ear to the door while Batman pulled out smoke pellets.

It had been a long time since just the two of them worked together. Despite this, their sync was completely natural. Batgirl kicked the door open, and Batman tossed in the smoke pellets. Following a loud pop, the room filled with smoke, and whoever was in there began to cough. Amateurs, it seemed, without the gear to face them properly. With this in mind, Batman ran in, and she waited. After all, she was his backup. A trump card if someone surprised him. So, she listened as he stomped and thumped around with the others, the occasional yell or shattering of glass joining them. After exactly three minutes, he tapped his boot three times. The all clear. Still, she waited out of sight. No one would know she was nearby unless she wanted them to.

“Oracle,” Batman said, even as he really was only speaking to her. “Three goons. They looked like Joker's men but had something different. The same idea, at least. They were lugging around three cases, which they failed to booby-trap. Someone expected us to come here.” She heard the click of the cases opened and a moment of silence as he examined the contents. “It’s a clue. Not just evidence. Someone wants us to learn a little more about S. There’s evidence of the bribery to her wards director, false identities for her caretaker, extra cash, but nothing indicating who bankrolled all this.”

A creak from the floor beneath them. Both vigilantes pause, one waiting for orders and the other thinking. A moment later, Batman tapped his foot twice, the green light for her to go downstairs and check it out. He’d continue searching the room and making noise. Whoever was down there wouldn’t expect her to attack them. Still, it didn’t mean she had to be stupid about it. If they had been placing traps, then there could be more.

Batgirl quickly made her way to the floor below and immediately pulled a snake camera. A small device she could slide under the door and see the feed on her wristwatch. Once it seemed all clear, from the floor to the handle above the camera, she pulled it back and opened it. Thankfully, it did not creak, and it was dark enough that only someone with powers or night vision would see her. With trained calm, she silently made her way inside, relaxing to the point you’d struggle to catch a heartbeat. She was no more than a shadow. A shadow that could hear the slightest shift of the wooden floor, the nervous and shallow breathing of someone trying to remain quiet, and the inevitable shift as they peaked out from behind a desk, trying to see what had opened the door and slipped right past their sight.

With a whish in the air, a batarang flew out before the woman could think, hitting the gun in her hand and making her fall back with a panicked yelp. Batgirl didn’t hesitate to close the distance, twisting her way around the wicked knife that flew forward to meet her, grabbing the woman’s wrist, twisting and shoving her face-first into the wall.

“You bats are...so annoying…” Punchline, clowned menace, and certified chemical terrorist, groaned. She was in her usual stretchy, purple bodysuit, with knee-height black leather boots and a tight, low-cut leather bodice. Her black hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, her grinning face was made insanely creepier with white concealer, innocent blush, and heavy use of eyeliner. “Can’t let a girl finish a job in peace? Come on.”

“Punchline,” Batgirl said for Oracle and Batman to hear. “What are you doing? Why were you waiting for us?”

“Waiting? Gorgeous, I was setting up.” Her grin only grew, eyes darting to the side in a vain attempt to see her assailant. “I don’t get paid if the job isn’t finished.”

She pulled back and slammed the villain into the wall. “Paid. By who?” Her grip only grew more painful as Punchline giggled and twitched.

“Oops, I shouldn’t have said that. But, hey, the money is really good.” She sighs dramatically, relaxing in the Batgirl’s grip. “Why are you so tilted, Batty?”

Batgirl mentally cursed herself. In her anger, her eagerness to avenge Sol and ensure her safety, she’d let her anger seep. Punchline, despite her looks, was incredibly smart. Smart enough to pick up on it. Smart enough to use it. Batgirl, by contrast, was not smart enough to win a war of words.

“Talk to me,” she hissed in Punchline’s ear. “Or talk to him.” She roughly grabbed the villain by the hair, still holding her twisted wrist, and spun her around to face the doorway where Batman now loomed, remaining in the dim light from the hallway window. All this did was make Punchline cackle with excitement.

“Two for one. Nice.”

Click.

“Looking for this,” Batman said, tossing forward a rather large, round device. It could have been a bomb or a dispenser. Punchline sneered, for once, her cocky attitude was smashed by reality. “If you thought we would fall for your traps twice, you were wrong, Punchline. Only one person could have edited the fear toxin in Elizabeth. Only one person typically bothers to do so.”

The big bat stalked forward, leaning down to glare at her. He let her stir in his presence for a minute, let the weight of these two stalkers settle in around her before speaking. “You’ll tell us what you know. Or else I’ll let Batgirl do the talking. And you made her very, very mad.”

She didn’t wait for permission to emphasize. With a sharp twist, Punchline’s wrist snapped, and the girl howled in pain, not that this made Batgirl release her.

“You’re working for someone,” Batman decided. “You had no reason to set all this up. You don’t do mass casualty events. You use people. The werewolves were far outside your area of expertise.” Batgirl gave a slight nod. Punchline didn’t have to answer: She could feel her tension ever so slightly, see the curl in her lips that tried to hide how fast she was thinking of an excuse. A lie. Batgirl nodded ever so slightly for her counterpart to continue.

“You could do anything for money,” Batman said, narrowing his eyes. The white slits of his cowl did so as well. “Someone else is playing a game and hired you as a pawn. What do they want?”

“Well, Batsy,” she grunted, trying to smile through the pain. “If I told you that I wouldn’t get paid, would I?”

Snap! One of her fingers, making her bite her lip until it bled, and stomp her foot repeatedly. “Fuck! Oooh, I’m going to enjoy killing you one day, girly-” Another snap! Punchline cried out, head falling as she squirmed and shifted uselessly.

“Focus,” Batman ordered, gripping her jaw and making her look up.

“This isn’t really fun anymore,” Punchline panted, eyes fluttering. “Tell me you guys are done.”

“Not even close,” he replied with a growl.

“Nah,” she shook her head slightly. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

An explosion rocked the bottom of the old tower, throwing all three of them to the floor. Punchline took the opportunity to sprint to the door, having been waiting for this moment, and Batgirl growled as she disappeared from view. She pushed herself up, about to run out, when Batman’s arm hooked around her waist.

“No, Batgirl, she’s planned this,” he barked. “It’s either trapped or time for us to fall with the building.”

“We can’t let her- Away-” Her voice choked, as it always did when she got too stressed or angry. But he was right, and she knew it. All she could do was stare at the door as Batman ran with her to the window, smashing it open. A moment later, the two were grappling away.

They’d learn something. Yet this felt less like a victory and more like a cliffhanger. A moment before a big reveal. It wasn’t enough, and she knew it.

But there was nothing she could do.

Where am I? Cassandra thought, without moving a muscle. She still wasn’t completely sure she was alone, or who had brought her, and any more noise could warn potential company to her wakefulness. The last thing she remembered was pushing Stephanie out of the room, then those horrible words, and then darkness coming to put a merciful end to that tirade.

Her new greatest fear wasn’t herself. It was her best friend not loving her back. That thought returned to make her heart squeeze itself tight- Driving a pain in her chest worse than any weapon or training ever had. Yet there was no time to think about it. Not until she got back home and made sure Stephanie was safe.

Eventually, once her trained ears were sure no one was around, the vigilante sat up and slid her legs off the altar, tentatively standing up and taking care to avoid the candles on the floor surrounding the stone. The way it was set up, she looked like some sort of Catholic sacrifice, but that didn’t make sense. From her few talks about religion and history, she was pretty sure sacrifices were nailed or burned to the cross. This was more akin to an...offering, she decided. But for whom? And from who?

Hm? Her eyes widened, body tensing with alertness. She wasn’t quite sure what had flagged her instincts; The shift of a flame, the other movement of a shadow, maybe just a change in the air. But she wasn’t alone. Something was watching her.

A wish in the air, barely audible, came from her top left, and she flipped backwards to avoid it. A metal baton clanged against the floor, then the wall, and then stopped as if caught.

Oh yeah, something was definitely here. Her eyes scanned the darkness up at the roof, but this was one of her only weaknesses: She couldn’t read what she couldn’t see. It’s why honing her instincts, training until every reaction was muscle memory and instantaneous, fighting like she didn’t have body reading abilities, was important.

“How did you find this place?” The low rumble of an angry man, coming from somewhere in the shadows. After a moment, it spoke from a new direction. “Whoever sent you...it isn’t worth it. Leave.”

Her training told her to move. Hide in the shadows and play cat and mouse. Her instincts told her that wouldn’t work, although she wasn’t sure why. So, instead of acting with her body, she decided to act differently and speak. “I don’t want to fight.”

“...liar.”

What? She thought to herself, frowning. But as soon as the accusation reached her ears, she realized it was true. The way she held herself, what her instincts screamed at her, the beating of her heart- She would have read it as battle-ready.

“No, I-”

Another wish in the air, from two directions. Cassandra sidestepped the first baton, then ducked sharply under the second, and from the darkness came out a man she could only describe as a devil. His foot slammed into her stomach before she could react, sending her back into the stone altar, and the batons had already bounced back to her hands.

This devil was human. Now that she could tell that much. He stood taller than her, with a sleek suit of red armor, a mask with small devil horns, and two eye slits painted red. His lower jaw was exposed, and his chest had two over-imposed D’s painted in black. An acronym? His body language radiated pure anger, like a dog ready to snap at the slightest movement, his jaw tight, his fists gripping the batons even tighter, every muscle poised to charge.

“You have one chance to give up...but I really hope you don’t,” Daredevil said. Cassandra stood back up, pursing her lips together and raising her fists. She knew he wasn’t going to give her a choice. Either from cruelty or due to this uncontrolled pain and anger, he was going to lash out. She didn’t even have to worry about it either.

She could see him. She could read him.

Daredevil smiled. He raised his batons and closed the distances, swinging down in quick, precise, and clearly trained movements. Cassandra stepped into his range, deftly blocking each attack at the forearms and wrists, ensuring the hard metal never touched her form. He seemed surprised when she blocked and spun, two fists connected with his stomach, sending him three painful feet back. This surprise was returned with the stutter in Cass’s heartbeat, as she realized he barely seemed to register the pain.

Great, she was fighting some sort of masochistic juggernaut. Maybe it’d make him sloppy?

That notion quickly left her mind as he threw both batons, charging in while Cassandra was distracted, dodging them. His training was clearly intense, as he seemed just as skilled with the escrima sticks as Nightwing, and as good at martial arts as any of the heroes Cassandra worked with. Maybe even better than some.

But not better than her. Cassandra easily blocked two kicks to her sides, then grabbed his foot after he spun and aimed a boot at her head, pushing him back. She slid in close, punching his side, ducked a counter, and nailed his jaw, side-stepped a grab, and returned three quick blows to his stomach. She refused, however, to deal a quick and decisive blow. She wouldn’t break his bones. She wouldn’t hospitalize this man. Not unless he gave her no choice.

“You’re good,” he grunted, rolling backwards and to his feet after taking another hit, panting from the exertion. “That’s a neat trick.”

Trick? Her eyes widened as the realization struck. Somehow, he’d figured her out. Was that even possible? Had he encountered someone like her before?

Daredevil ran forward, kneeling and sliding underneath a vicious roundhouse from the Batgirl, grabbing his escrima sticks as he did. He spun to a stand, facing her, and flung his wrists to the sides. Each baton flew into the wall and bounced, zipping over the candles with almost impossible precision, extinguishing the majority of the flames. The little light in the room dulled to a small glow. Daredevil himself had used the new darkness to disappear, and a few moments later, what little candles remained were also snuffed out.

No problem, Cassandra thought to herself, fists up as she inhaled, listening intently. We’re just on equal ground, at worst.

Her opponent was stealthy. But she was stealthier, meaning she heard him right before he could strike. She leaned back, barely avoiding a stick, and then instinctively stepped again as another swiped through the air where her head had been. With a skip, she raised her leg to kick- But faster than should’ve been possible, a boot hit her standing leg, knocking her down. She rolled to the right only to hear both sticks slam into the stone ground where she had been a moment ago, and then jumped to her feet, only for a fist to slam against her jaw.

Spots flashed in sight for a moment before another fist slammed against her. She blocked the third and fourth, only to take a fifth when trying to counter. After that, she jumped and flipped backwards, judging that she was a foot from the wall, but an escrima stick bounced off a nearby column and hit her leg, forcing her to one knee.

Too late, some faraway thought reasoned, if she could anticipate any move via sight, this person must be able to do the same in the dark. He was keeping her on the defensive and blind- A weak position for the Batgirl.

A stick hit her across the face, making her head spin and bringing forth the taste of blood. A fist hit her side, and then she tried to counter, coming up with only air. His voice came through the dark, a low and hateful growl.

“You come to my one place of peace,” he said, right next to her ear, tanking her punches almost on purpose, before snapping her head up with an escrima stick. “You disturb me in my suffering.” Another hit of the stick and Cassandra fell again, lifting her hand to grab his wrist and stop the next blow, only for the other stick to slam into her ribs. “All I want is to be alone and at peace!”

Something about those words clicked into Cassandra’s brain. Once upon a time, she thought being completely alone would be peace. She’d felt like a tool of pure violence, and the guilt she suffered obviously still affected her. She remembered how Sol looked at her when she’d nearly killed the werewolf.

This devil sounded just like she did at her worst. It was self-hatred. It was depression, guilt, and desperation. He tanked her hits to feel pain. He fought to maybe, hopefully, never open his eyes again. He wasn’t trying to lose, but maybe he wished it so.

Not so long ago, she could have related.

“Being alone is hurting you,” Cassandra snapped, grabbing one wrist as he struck her, then the other as he tried to free himself. She pulled herself back against the ground, bringing him along. Her feet pushed against his stomach and launched him over and back, into the wall. She might not be able to see. She might not be able to read. But she was the best fighter on the planet. She didn’t need those benefits.

While he grunted, the air knocked out of him, she turned and pounced. The two began to wrestle. He clearly knew wrestling, judo, and other combat styles. But Cassandra knew nearly every martial art. She was flexible, smaller than the man, and it seemed less beaten. Had he been smart, he would’ve taken into account his prior injuries and not challenged her so directly. Now, she could guide herself with touch, and whatever way he had to detect her wouldn’t help.

“You want someone to finish you,” she continued, voice tight as he tried to lock his legs around her, only for the Batgirl to knee a joint, roll to the side, and pull him into an armbar. “You feel like a bad person. You are angry, overwhelmed, and in pain.”

“You don’t know me,” Daredevil growled, gasping as she pulled his arm taut, his free arm grasping at her leg. “Don’t you dare-”

“I don’t think you are a bad man!” She cut in, raising her voice. “Please, let me talk to you!”

She never thought that was how she’d end a fight. With words rather than action. Certainly, she had him pinned and could win now, with a twist she could snap his arm, and from there she could finish him. A part of her wanted to do just that- Follow her training, deal with the threat, and move on. But he was in pain the same way she was, and this time she wanted to help. To live up to the type of hero she was supposed to be, and not the scary vigilante or murderous weapon she’d shown the other night.

Thankfully, Daredevil seemed to pause. Panting tiredly, he loosened himself a bit, tilting his head as if to listen rather than look at her. “Now you want to talk?”

“Since the beginning,” she said, holding back a sound of indignation.

Ten minutes later, and with a very awkward introduction, the two sat down at opposite ends of a pew, right at the front and near the altar. Daredevil had taken the time to re-light the candles and say a small prayer. It was a strange pairing- a nineteen-year-old girl dressed in civilian clothes with a grown man in devilish armor, inside a church with shadows dancing across the face of Jesus Christ.

“So, your powers let you read people,” he said, an attempt to start things off. “But with sight. You somehow know what people will do.”

“And you can do the same with hearing,” Cassandra replied, glancing over at the man. “Is it super hearing? I am perfectly quiet, but you knew I was here.”

“It’s better than non-supers,” he admitted, nodding. “But it isn’t necessarily a superpower. Just something I developed between my blindness and special training.”

“Makes sense. My...sight was trained the same way. But instead of no sight, I had no voice.”

The two fell back into silence for another two minutes, neither quite good at this, especially not after the battle. Cassandra decided to take the lead.

“I know how you feel.” Her voice was calm and soft, considering her words with care. “It might sound weird, because I do not know you, but...the way your body spoke, the way you spoke, and fought-”

“It was all too similar,” he finished with a dry chuckle, leaning back in the pew. “You’re really young. I’m sorry you can relate.”

“I’m sorry you’re still in so much pain.”

More silence, this time with a tinge of comfort. Daredevil continued. “This isn’t my usual church. It’s...a home away from home. Abandoned, fixed up so I can come and wallow in my sins. How did you end up here?”

“I’m not sure. I was caught in a trap and blacked out. When I woke up, I was here.” Cassandra looked up, voice slightly louder. “Is this Elizabeth? New Jers-”

“Hell’s Kitchen, New York.”

Not an impossible distance to cross, but who had brought her here?

“Are you from Elizabeth?” Daredevil asked.

“No, Gotham.”

“Gotham? Where is that?”

Well, that opened up an entirely new can of worms. The man’s head tilted again, registering the change in Cassandra’s heartbeat, and he sighed, continuing without being prompted. “Not here, I take it. But somehow you’re safe, away from your trap, and here with me.”

“Why?” The girl’s voice is quiet again. Confused.

“Divine intervention, maybe,” he whispered, looking up to the statue of Jesus, guiding the Batgirl’s attention there. She wasn’t religious, but she knew divine intervention could happen. It would explain her instinctual confusion, as if even the air here were different, and her body could tell. “I needed someone to keep me from breaking tonight. What did you need?”

“I...I’m not sure,” she admitted. “A lot of things have happened lately, with people I care about. I...struggle. With people. Emotions. How they work. What I want.”

“Maybe we can talk about it.” An offer was being given to her with no small sense of relief. He wanted to do this; they both needed it, and despite being strangers, there was a sense of kinship.

“Okay.”

And so they did. For what felt like hours, they traded stories, doubts, and feelings. Daredevil turned out to be surprisingly good at this sort of thing, gently dissecting her concerns and confusions, asking questions in a way that didn’t feel intrusive or embarrassing. Likewise, Cassandra understood his pain and tried to guide him to a path that could help him step away from it and ease the burden of guilt. Not to reassure a man she did not know, but to explain how she (mostly) surpassed her guilt, and guide him to ways he could work on that as well. It wasn’t perfect, and both had the feeling it could not last, but it was nice. Until, finally, Cassandra yawned.

“...I think it’s time I go,” Daredevil said, his voice soft.

“But I don’t know…” Another yawn, the strangely tired drooping of her eyes, like something was pulling her under. “...how to get home yet.”

“It’s alright. I think...all it’ll take is some faith.”

Daredevil had closed the distance without her noticing, which should have been odd enough to set off alarm bells, but she just slumped against him as he picked her up in his arms. The man gently walked over to the altar, setting her down.

“If you ever find yourself back in my Hell’s Kitchen, come find me. I promise,” he chuckled, sounding only slightly guilty. “I won’t attack you again.”

“I’m glad we talked,” Cassandra mumbled, eyes hardly opened. “Daredevil.”

“Matthew,” he supplied, squeezing her shoulder. She wanted to reply, to give her own name in return, but the darkness was squeezing in around her.

“Good luck, Batgirl.”

She fought like she’d trained her whole life for it. That’s what Oracle had said when she’d shown Steph and Cass the videos from street cameras and bystanders she’d spliced together. They watched the moment her voice had been cut off, leaving them both worried sick, and the actions that followed. Civilians bitten by Lupus had begun to turn, almost at the same time, and one had surprised Sol. As she wrestled it on the ground, taking claw and tooth, her earpiece was damaged. Then she kicked it off and threw an explosive batarang, forcing it back. When she stood, four baby werewolves faced her.

It should have been game over. Yet, Sol stood up with pulsing green eyes and pulled out more batarangs. Without a single kill, she spent the entire time the Batgirls were inside fighting on her own. Slowly, but surely, she would wrestle or grab a wolf, eyes flashing as she tried to heal them, and they would actually collapse and turn human. From what Cassandra could see, she had used Judo, Capoeira, Aikido, and more.

Not something a civilian girl from Gotham University should just know. Not a fight she should have won.

“I hope we figure something out,” Stephanie said, her voice unusually soft and insecure. She spoke to fill the anxious silence, more than anything else, and brought Cassandra to an even more pressing thought: Herself.

She had been ready to kill for Stephanie, and would never know if she’d actually have done it, thanks to Sol. But regardless of the sin, the anger had been there, the want. All for her best friend. It brought back that comment from a week ago, and the question that prompted it.

I love you.

What are they to you?

Her brown eyes looked up to Steph, blonde hair flowing freely over her shoulders, blue eyes shadowed with concern, skin fair, smooth, and perfect. She was only wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a purple (of course) hoodie, yet to Cassandra she was the warmth on this chilled day.

I love you. There it was, again, that invasive thought. So often had those words returned, the vigilante wasn’t quite sure what to make of them. Now, here they were. Together. Walking, talking, and pretending to just hang out as civilians. Even if this was really an investigation, when had this last happened? Just the two of them?

“It will be okay,” Cassandra said, taking her friend's hand. The blonde snapped her eyes over, glancing over at Cass, who had opted for leggings, sneakers as well, and a yellow and black Gotham Knights varsity jacket Dick had given her. Her short black hair was loose, tickling her ears each time a gust of wind pushed by them.

“I’m her best friend,” Stephanie said quietly, squeezing Cass’s hand as she walked and talked. “I have more people in my life. But Sol? That was it, for the longest time, it was me. And I...didn’t do that justice. I should have seen something. I should have known. I could have brought her in sooner. Investigated.”

“No,” Cass said again, simple but firm. “Not your fault.”

“A meta human, with complete amnesia about the first sixteen years of her life, with training.” Stephanie scoffed, stepping closer to Cassandra but not meeting her eyes. “I should have noticed something.”

The quiet one recognized this: One of those annoying things ‘normal’ people did, when they tried to act angry or solitary, but really wanted reassurance, or help. The way she did not look at her and blamed herself, mixed with the sudden closeness and the tightness of their hand.

“That’s why we are doing this,” Cassandra said softly, shifting her arm to go around Stephanie’s waist in a protective manner. “To find out the truth and help her. Your friend. To figure it out.”

“There’s a lot for us to figure out, huh?”

At those words, soft and sweet, from Stephanie reached Cassandra’s ears, and those blue eyes looked deep into her brown ones, the girl meant to be a weapon felt something new: A blush. No, not the pink cheeks she’d gotten for Superboy once upon a time, but a full-on overheating of the body. Red bloomed from her ears and cheeks, crawling down her neck, until it reached the racing heartbeat in her chest.

I love you.

And then the two arrived, the moment interrupted by duty.

Before them stood the Elizabeth Home of Psychiatric Wellness. Located in Elizabeth, New Jersey, it’s the only place anyone could track Sol, too, and only those she had decided to share the information with, as there was no mention of her on paper or online. The building itself looked colonial, made of large dark stones that went up four stories, and pointed spires that shot up past the rooftop on all four corners. A rusting but once beautiful wrought iron fence protected the property, with spikes at the top, and a closed gate with a security guard impeded their progress.

“How can I help you two young ladies?” He asked, barely looking up. “Visiting someone?”

“Actually, looking for information on a former patient. She’s a friend,” Stephanie said, truthfully and cheerfully, that innate charm seeping outwards to the lame guard. She tugged Cassandra forward, nodding, and the silent one pulled out a small photo of Sol- A rare case of her smiling, her eyes still brown, from a Polaroid Steph had taken long ago. She looked tired and annoyed, but it was her.

“Go on in.”

“That was easy,” Cassandra whispered as the two walked through the gate, still holding Stephanie’s waist.

“A lot of these places aren’t very serious,” the blonde whispered back, as the two walked through a massive mahogany door into your typical clinic: Sterile, white hallways, flickering LED lights, and people dressed in scrubs. “Sol only remembers the last three months of her stay: Waking up to be discharged. The stuff she told me...wasn’t pretty.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That if this one lady, Lupita, hadn’t been here, she might have woken up in a worse state.” Stephanie frowned, the thought clicking. “If we find her first, we can probably get some information. Sol said she was supposed to be a personal caretaker. Feedings, cleanings, so on. This lady was there when Sol woke up.”

“I think we found her.”

The two had been walking deeper into the building, down a hallway, when Cassandra heard a jostle and looked into the open door next to her. Inside was a patient's room- a simple wooden floor, a small bed, black curtains parted so sunlight could pour in through a barred window. Caught mid-look was a woman slightly shorter than both heroines, with black hair, scrubs, scrawled on eyebrows and lips with too much red lipstick. A hand went up to her chest, but Cassandra caught it: A name tag that said ‘Lupita.’

“Are you Lupita?” Stephanie immediately asked, stepping in front of Cassandra, whom she knew to be too intimidating, even now. “We’re here to ask about an old patient. Um, Sol?”

“I sorry,” she replied, glancing between the two of them nervously. “I don’ know. No English.”

“Nosotras,” Stephanie repeats, slowly, her words awkward but clear. “Queremos preguntar sobre Sol.” When Cassandra gave her a puzzled look, she simply smiled and shrugged. “One of my best friends speaks Spanish, and it’s useful to know.”

“Supongo que no puedo pretender”, Lupita sighed.

Cassandra didn’t understand her, but the confusion on Stephanie’s face mixed with Lupita’s now serious expression, and the way her left hand shifted behind her, was enough to make her spring into action. Without thinking, Cassandra pushed Stephanie out of the room and kicked Lupita square in the stomach.

Click!

She fell and revealed the small device that made that sound. The door automatically slammed, and the vigilante turned around, seeing her friend running up just one second too late.

“Cass! Cass!” Stephanie yelled, pulling on the handle and then pounding on the glass. Nothing.

“Who are you?” Cassandra snapped, spinning back around and planting her foot on Lupita’s chest, heart racing. Already, her head was getting dizzy. A trap, clear as day, for anyone who might investigate Sol. “Who hired you?”

“Ay, mija,” Lupita sighed, smiling pitifully. “Neither of us will be alive for it to matter.”

Uh oh, Cassandra thought, as one knee suddenly gave out. She touched the pulse point on her throat, confirming her heart was skyrocketing, and felt her brow for sweat. Then her vision began to swim and morph.

“Fear Toxin,” Cassandra croaked. Then she turned to the door, louder. “Fear Toxin!”

But Stephanie, the door, and the room were already gone. Instead, everything had been absorbed by darkness. Not the comfortable kind, not the ally she was used to, but a goopy and thick kind that seemed to drown her, allowing no quick movement or easy escape.

I can handle this, she thought to herself, trying to control her breathing. I’ve trained for this. They’d all prepared for this eventuality, whether they’d been unlucky enough to experience fear toxin or not. It would show her her greatest fear. Herself. She knew that. All she had to do-

“Love?”

The room was suddenly solid again. She was standing. A light shone from a doorway with a back-lit figure, but Cassandra would recognize that voice and that silhouette anywhere.

“Stephanie,” she said softly, lifting a hand between them, as if unsure whether to ward her off or pull her close. The toxin was clouding her mind; she knew it, but that didn’t make it any easier to remember what was real. Besides, why was Steph here? Cassandra knew her biggest fear.

“Spoiler alert,” Stephanie said with a too-wide grin. “I don’t love you.”

Oh no. Not that word. Not that thought. She wasn’t ready for-.

“First, you were jealous of Tim,” Stephanie cooed, stepping closer, forcing Cassandra to step back. “Boy Wonder and I had it good for so long. We were so close. Who knows, if it wasn’t for Bruce, maybe we would’ve stayed together. I still have feelings for him.”

Each word felt like a cut on Cassandra’s skin. She shook her head, retreating another step, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her skull.

“No. We’ve talked about that. I know the truth,” she said, swallowing hard and looking away, reassuring herself. There was a way out of this. She just had to use calm logic, and-

“What’s pretty fucked up,” the fear-toxin Steph spoke on. “Is being jealous of my child. The one I never got to know. The first thing you said was you’d never had a kiss. You couldn’t even look at me.”

“That wasn’t because-”

“-because you saw me badly, no.” Stephanie pressed a hand to Cassandra’s heart, as if feeling the frantic beat herself. She leaned in, whispering in her ear. “You were just jealous I was with someone else. Cared more about that than my pain, than my child, than me.”

“Stephanie, please-”

“There’s also Sol,” the blonde continued, the sound of each slow step punctuated in Cassandra’s mind, making her panic intensify. “We are best friends. The only real person in my day life, in college, a normal person with normal problems. I know you see the way I look at her.”

“Stop it-”

“You can’t even be too mad at it, can you?” Stephanie chuckled, sighing and running a hand through her hair. “While you got all jealous and knocked her while she was down, Sol stayed strong. She did good. You admire that. You like who she is. So, she’s gotta be good for me, right?”

“I’m begging you-!”

“Sol would treat me right. She’d always worry about me. Always say the right thing, ask the right question, and get me what I need. She’s the opposite of you, a weapon with no emotion.”

“I said stop!” Cassandra yelled, grabbing her friend by the throat and wrist, spinning and pinning her hard into the wall instead, panting harshly. “I am not afraid of you! Of this! I- I don’t- We are-”

“I’m only around you because I have no choice,” Stephanie choked, grasping at her throat. She grins again, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re a monster. How could I love you?”

Cassandra screams. At the words, at the pain she’s putting Stephanie through, at the irrational fear coursing through her heart. She was ready for herself, ready for her murderous side, ready for the past that had been so unfairly given to her. Not this. She couldn’t beat or wake up from this, and in the back, some small part of her mind reminded her she was still potentially awake somewhere, hurting someone in her panic.

So if she couldn’t beat it, she could only avoid it.

Cassandra turned and ran out of the door, into the light, and didn’t stop. Not as it grew stronger. Not as everything around her disappeared. She ran, and ran, and ran until everything finally went dark.

Until all she was aware of were the tears streaming down her face.

I got a bit busy during the last couple of days so heres my late submissions for day 6 :]