𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒
Chapter 25 — A New Title | +18
ᯓ♡ fandom: The Batman (Reevesverse) | STRAYS ᯓ♡ word count: 697 ᯓ♡ synopsis: During a regressed moment, Elara accidentally accepts a call from her aunt in Brazil, Sofia immediately shifts into a controlled mode as she gets a new title ᯓ♡ warnings: Homophobic verbal harassment • Emotional distress • Discussion of familial rejection • Themes of trauma and protection • Mild language • Smoking
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Rain slaps the loft windows with cold and relentless drops. Elara's phone buzzes on hands, a notification slipping above her Naruto Ninja Chronicles game with an unknow number, making she blinks. She usually rejecting these unknowed contacts, but with her mind regressed, she acted quicker than though, clicking the tab to try close it and back to play, sloppy moves accidently accepting the call.
A female voice come immediatly with a strong Brazilian accent. "You think you can run to that filthy city and play house with women?" Carla, one of her aunts from Brazil, kept talking across the line. "God's watching, girl, your father says you're corrupted, living in sin; we'll drag you back if we have to, fix whatever is wrong with you." The words cut raw with homophobic venom dripping through the speaker, echoing family bullshit she's heard since she was a kid.
Elara freezes, hands trembling a little as fingers find the button to end the call as her chest tightens, and the world seems to be blurring into that small space.
She reached for Tikuri, the otter sat on the scarred table, his fur pressed against her palm, but it was not enough. She whimpers, throat starts to feel burnt, "M-mama?" The word slips out instinctively, aimed at Sofia, who was walking into the room after listening to parts of the call from the fire escape.
Sofia, who'd been on the fire escape smoking and heard parts of the call through the cracked window, stepped inside. She saw immediately: Elara curled small, phone dropped beside her, eyes unfocused and breathing faster.
Mama. The word hit Sofia like a punch to the chest. Not the first time she'd heard it; Elara had mumbled it during nightmares, drowsy and half-asleep, but this was different; This was a crisis. This was I need you.
And something in her brain clicked, the part that knew how to be still and controlled in chaos, that keep Gia Vitti distracted and safe while Sofia gased the rest of the Falcone family.
She set down her cigarette, crossed the room with measured steps, not rushing or crowding.
She knelt in front of the girl, but left space between them, an arm's length, visible, but not threatening.
"Hey." Her voice was low, steady. "I heard some of that call, your aunts?"
Elara nodded jerkily, clutching Tikuri tighter.
"Okay, she said things that hurt, things about you being wrong, or broken, or corrupted." Sofia kept her tone matter-of-fact. "But she's lying, you know that, right?"
The girl's breath hitched, nod once. "Y-yeah, but she sounds so sure"
"Liars always do." Sofia shifted slightly, still not touching. "Can you look at me?"
Elara's eyes, which usually avoid gaze, found Sofia's face.
"Good, now listen." Sofia's voice was firm but not harsh. "You are not corrupted, you are not broken, you are exactly who you're supposed to be, and your aunts have no power here," she says firmly. "None, she's in Brazil, you're in Gotham, and between you and her? There's me, and Selina, and Bruce Wayne's lawyers, and several thousand miles. She can't touch you."
"She said they'd drag me back and-"
"They'd have to go through me first." Sofia's voice went cold and lethal. "And I don't let people take what's mine."
Elara blinked, throat hurt as tighten while she cleans it quietly. "Y-yours?"
Sofia's jaw tightened, the word had slipped out, but she didn't take it back. "Yeah, mine. You're part of this pack now, that means something."
Elara's breathing was still fast, but slowing, as the panic in her eyes was ebbing, replaced by something else, like between confusion and tentative hope.
"Can I..." Sofia gestured carefully. "Can I sit closer? Or do you need space?"
"Closer," the girl whispered. "Please."
Sofia moved, settling on the floor beside her, not touching, just there, solid and present. "I've got you."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise."
They sat like that while Elara's eyes watered, as her mind processed the call. Sofia didn't try to stop those tears, one hand reaching her back to rub slow circles.
When Selina slipped in through the window ten minutes later, she found them like that; the regressor slightly curled into Sofia's shoulder, Sofia murmuring quiet Italian that Elara probably didn't understand, but responded to anyway, the tone more important than the words.
Selina caught Sofia's eye, raised an eyebrow. You okay?
Sofia nodded once. We're okay.
Selina smiled small and proud after moved to the kitchen to give some space.
An hour later, Elara was asleep on the couch, wrapped in the burgundy blanket, while Sofia sat nearby, unwilling to move too far.
Selina handed her a fresh cigarette. "You did good."
"I didn't do anything," Sofia muttered.
"You stayed calm, you didn't crowd her. You let her come to you." Selina lit her own cigarette. "That's everything."
"She called me mama."
Selina exhaled smoke. "You earned it."
Sofia looked at the sleeping girl, at the way Elara's hand was stretched out even in sleep, like she was reaching for something.
Sofia moved her own hand closer and let the fingers curl around hers, if wanna to. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I guess I did."
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