Chapter 26: Bridges to Babylon
Merry Christmas, everyone.
December twenty-fifth dawned on a frigid and snow-covered Gotham City six days after the Battle of Founders Island. Yet this city of nine million people was curiously muted as the sun rose.
Gotham had almost four-hundred fewer people in it than it had a week ago. And those who thought Christmas had become too commercialized and consumerist were given no end to ammo, as with the grievous wounds to Founders Island itself, the city's commercial center, the luster seemed to come off the holiday for the citizenry.
Not even the drunks, flashers, and pickpockets were in the Christmas spirit.
But it evened out, though. Families came together on opposite sides of long tables, digging into home cooking and enjoying each others' company. Orphans and expats came together in apartments and dined on the finest cuisine that could be made with a microwave. Even the lonely and the dejected found some solace on this day, either through football or the annual A Christmas Story marathon on TBS. Gotta dig that, right?
And yes, yes, there was some strife. Political arguments, disapproving parents, and alcohol-fueled fender-benders. But the human animal is a diverse one, be it through race, through creed, or through simple temperament. There will always be pain on a good day, just as there will always be joy on a shitty one. Even on the day of the Battle of Founders Island someone in Gotham City won the lottery. And it was someone who lived in the East End, too, so that someone was coming out of a brutal poverty that kinda smelled like pee.
So people talked to each other, ate together, came in from the cold, and the Earth did its fraction of a turn until the sun started falling.
And as the skies grew dark, one jewel in the wilds of the east, a mile and a half from the ocean, still shone bright.
Wayne Manor.
Outside, there was a collection of motorcycles and cars parked near the huge gothic fountain next to the front entrance, all having left tire tracks in the thin sheet of snow.
But inside?
Inside it looked warm…
Bruce Wayne stood in the eastern arch that led into the main living room off the foyer, and looked inside.
Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon were on one of the two red couches. Dick had his arm around Barbara's shoulders while she cleaned her yellow-tinted glasses with the hem of her dark green sweater.
Tim Drake and Harper Row were on the other couch, in a similar position, his arm around Harper's shoulders. They were, however, talking to Cullen, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of them. Harper was wearing a black suit jacket and a white button-up shirt with no tie above black slacks and black Chuck Taylors. Cullen was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with the cartoon print of a tuxedo on the front.
And off in the corner, almost in the shadows, was Cassandra Cain in a dark blue sweatshirt and jeans, nibbling on what had to be her seventh cookie.
Alfred Pennyworth walked up behind Bruce and stood in the doorway alongside him.
"How many more are to be expected, Master Bruce?"
"Three," Bruce said.
Alfred nodded, and stood with him for some time longer.
Bruce chanced a look over at Alfred, and saw a dreamy and almost serene look on his butler's face.
Alfred saw Bruce looking at him, before looking back out into the living room again.
"A crowded house at Christmastime, sir," Alfred said. "I never thought I'd see the day again."
Bruce nodded, not really knowing what to say.
Thank whatever system governed the universe, however, for the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them.
It was Selina, in leggings and a gray, cable-knit sweater, holding a martini.
"Mind if I have a moment with my husband?" she asked.
"Not at all," Alfred said, before he left to wherever butlers at Christmas go.
Selina smiled.
Bruce smiled back.
"I put up mistletoe," Selina said. She pointed toward the main entry of the living room, where a small white nodule of mistletoe hung, innocuous, and completely unaware of any potential havoc it might wreak.
Bruce looked from the mistletoe, to the assortment of teenagers in the living room, and then back to Selina.
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Selina asked.
"Teenagers," Bruce said. "Lots of them."
Selina rolled her eyes. "They're coming off of a lot of stress and a lot of funerals. If they just resort to innocent necking, it'll be a load off their minds… though now that I think about it, I can just imagine Cullen trying to lure Dick through that entryway… What would someone use to lure Dick Grayson, anyway? Protein bars and cereal?"
"That sounds about right."
Selina smiled.
"With the exception of Cullen, who isn't eighteen yet, this whole house needs to get laid, to be completely honest," Selina said. "Starting with you."
She scoped out the room to see if no one was looking before she grabbed his ass.
"It'll have to be late, though," Bruce said. "I still have to do that thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing I said I was going to do."
"Ohhhhhhh," Bruce said. "That thing. Get your tissues ready."
"I hope to God it doesn't come to that," Bruce said. "I'm not good with… crying."
"If it happens," Selina said, "you'll do fine."
"If it happens," Bruce said, "I'll have back-up."
Selina's eyes widened. "So he is coming."
"He won't stay and chat," Bruce said, "but he'll do what I asked. It's hard to shop for a billionaire for Christmas, but this is a lay-up."
Selina nodded, smiled, and put her arm around his waist.
Bruce's eyes caught Harper Row smiling, blissfully closing her eyes, and putting her head on Tim Drake's shoulder.
"Tim and Harper are taking every opportunity in this house to sneak off and make out," Bruce said. "And I do mean every opportunity. They think I don't know, but I do. Christ, it's Dick and Barbara all over again."
"Good for them."
"Hmm," Bruce said. "I almost miss the days when Tim didn't do anything around here because he thought there were microphones and cameras all over the manor."
Selina smiled, but that smile quickly slid off.
"Are there cameras and microphones?" she asked.
"Of course not," said Bruce.
Selina nodded, made like Harper, and put her head on Bruce's shoulder.
"Alfred made me get rid of them," Bruce said.
Selina took her head off his shoulder and looked at him in surprise when the doorbell rang.
Alfred came into the living room, escorting Stephanie Brown.
And Cassandra immediately ran up to them, and wrapped Steph in a hug.
They'd barely seen each other since the Battle of Founders Island. Stephanie had been laid up in the Batcave for a couple of days (and Cassandra had to wonder if her mother had even noticed she'd gone) after her fight with Damian Wayne. And even after that, Cassandra's life was a whole mess of funerals. So much so that she'd have gladly traded Steph that bed down in the medical bay.
While Cassandra's face had cleared from her beating at the hands of David Cain, the bruises on Steph's face from her clash with Damian were still there. Faded, of course, but there was still a lot of yellow, and some contours of purple.
And there was Stephanie's broken arm of course. Broken from repeatedly and soundly punching Damian in the face.
"Sorry I'm late," Stephanie said, still wrapped in Cassandra's hug. "I had to take a cab here. I shouldn't be riding a motorcycle with this thing on my arm."
"Did you get a receipt?" Bruce asked from the archway. "Because I can pay you back."
"Well," Stephanie said, "the cabbie's still out there, so…"
Bruce sighed as Selina busted out laughing.
"I'll be right back," Bruce said as he unentangled himself from his wife, and made his way out of the living room to the front door.
Cassandra put her hands on the shoulders of Stephanie's purple sweater, smiled, and saw her cast.
White and untouched.
Clearly this would not do.
Cassandra turned to the rest of the room, tried to find the word she needed, and failed. So she resorted to a pantomime of writing something down.
"Need a pen?" Dick asked.
Cassandra shook her head. "The other one."
"Pencil?" asked Cullen.
Cassandra again shook her head. "The other one."
"Sharpie?" asked Harper.
Cassandra smiled and snapped her fingers. "Right," she said.
Harper unzipped the teal canvas bookbag that she'd brought with her for some reason, and took out a black Sharpie. She walked it over to Cassandra.
"Thanks," Cassandra said, before she removed the cap, and looked at Stephanie's cast.
Cassandra Cain could not write her own name. But she could draw a circle. An "O" for Orphan.
Once that was done, she looked out at the rest of the room.
None of them moved.
Cassandra frowned, sighed, and handed Stephanie the Sharpie, thus freeing up Cassandra's hands for sign language.
"Sign. Her. Cast. You. Dumb. Whores."
And so all the dumb whores in attendance did indeed sign Stephanie Brown's cast.
"Have you heard from Raven yet?" Barbara asked.
Dick sighed. "No," he said. "I haven't."
Garfield "Beast Boy" Logan's funeral was two days ago. She'd gone with Dick, and ever since, there'd been a shadow behind his eyes. It felt like he moved a fraction slower than he used to, his usual light-heartedness seemingly trapped underwater.
"She's off in… She's wherever she goes when she's not here," Dick said. "All these years, and I've never really got a handle on what it is Rachel does. All I know is when she gets back...I have to be the one to tell her."
Beast Boy and Rachel "Raven" Roth. They had been approaching the vicinity of romance for as long as they'd known each other. Barbara didn't know if they'd actually gotten there. She was behind on her gossip.
"This is the leadership role," Dick said. "This is what Batman trained me for. Give orders, yell at people, patch up scraped knees, and be the bearer of bad news."
His eyes clouded over, as though something invisible in the middle distance tempted him.
Barbara hated seeing Dick like this. It just felt so unnatural.
Against her better judgement… she was going to try stand-up comedy.
"I'd ask if she'd get depressed, but that's just… her."
Dick looked at her glumly, no trace of any kind of mirth in his face.
Shit, Babs, you overshot the runway! Back up! BACK UP!
"Or," Barbara said, "she'd get like I did when I learned you were going out with Kory. Just stop showering and cleaning my ears."
"You did not," Dick said.
Which was true. She did not. But if she could get the heat on herself and go for a few jokes, he might just crack a smile, and Lord knows he needed one. Barbara Gordon wasn't all that familiar with football (which her father was watching when she left his place earlier that day), but she knew what the Hail Mary was, and this was that.
"Oh, I did," Barbara said. "I can't tell you how many times Batman yelled at me because he saw the potato chip crumbs in my hair from two days ago."
"Stop it," Dick said… but the corners of his mouth were curling a little bit.
"And when I heard that you were going out with your Bludhaven landlady, what's-her-boobs…"
"Clancy," Dick said, moving his hand to his mouth.
"That's right," Barbara said. "Crying in the streets. Legitimate Irish funereal keening. Because she was a brunette and not a redhead. You broke the combo. You were moving away from me."
"I… What?"
"Oh!" Barbara said. "And then you went out with that fashion designer. I wanna say her name was Montana Wildhack..."
Dick coughed and said "Cheyenne Freemont."
"Yeah," Barbara said. "Montana Wildhack. She was a redhead. That meant you were coming back to me. I was so happy when I heard that, I jumped."
"You… You were in a wheelchair."
Barbara put on the ghastly parody of a smile and said "I KNOW, RIGHT?"
That did it.
Dick snorted before he took an uneven gasp, and started laughing.
Barbara took Dick's arm and put it over her shoulders as they sat there on the sofa when the doorbell rang a second time.
Alfred escorted into the main foyer Kate Kane and Diana of Themyscira.
Kate had her hands in the pockets of her gray blazer while Diana had her own arm intertwined with hers.
And Kate was wondering why Bruce was arguing with a cabbie out front. It was throwing her off her game.
"I feel like I am imposing," Diana said.
"You're not," Kate said. "Trust me."
"I didn't bring gifts."
"Bruce doesn't do that."
"Why not?" Diana asked.
"Well," Kate said, "Bruce is a billionaire."
"Right."
"And I'm a billionaire."
"Yes."
"Selina's a mill ionaire."
"I see."
"And then we have wave after wave of destitute children," Kate said. "It isn't really fair."
Diana nodded, and said "That does make sense."
They got to the entrance of the living room, and all in attendance save for Stephanie Brown either said Hi or waved.
"Look," Kate said. "It's my friends from work, and also Stephanie."
Before Stephanie could say something (that, judging from the shape her lips took around her teeth, most likely began with the letter "F"), Cullen piped up.
"Ummm," Cullen said, "Not to be indelicate, but… I could have sworn this wasn't your holiday."
"Well, that depends," Kate said. "Is Alfred working the bar?"
From over at the eastern arch, Selina held up what was left of her martini and said "You're damn right he is."
Kate smiled, and said "Then Merry Christmas, movie house."
She turned to Diana and asked "How familiar are you with the whole Santa-worshipping thing?"
"I'm familiar enough to know that's not how it works," Diana said.
"Trust me," said Kate, "that's how it works."
Diana looked up. "I know what that's for."
Kate looked up.
She saw that she and Diana were standing under mistletoe.
Then she looked back out at the room.
During the Battle of Founders Island, Kate had found that she had gotten over her aversion toward swearing in front of Diana.
Six days later, she found that that aversion had not returned.
"Which one of you floppy pairs of fucking clown shoes thought mistletoe was a good idea?"
Everyone shrank into where they were sitting. Selina apparently tried to turn invisible with a phenomenal cosmic power that she was not aware she did not possess.
Kate's eyes fell on Tim Drake. "Was it you, Johnny Fuckleseed? Oh, I bet it was y-"
"Kate?" Diana asked.
Kate's demeanor instantly changed. Her eyes brightened, and she asked "Yes'm?"
Diana's broad-yet-delicate hands found the sides of Kate's face. She leaned in, and their lips met.
It was soft. It was warm. And, unbidden by her brain, Kate's toes curled in her shoes before she could tell them to knock that shit off because she wasn't thirteen anymore.
Diana had soft full lips that one could disappear into, and Kate Kane gave it her all. Her hands moved absently to Diana's back, to her silk blouse, feeling the muscles beneath, and Jumping Fucking Jesus, it's a mountain range back there!
The kiss broke too soon. It would always be too soon. It devolved into an embrace, and Diana whispered into her ear.
"Sweet mother, I cannot weave. Slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl."
Kate tried to suppress a slight tremor, and failed miserably.
Sappho…
Smooth!
But then Kate realized, given the events of the past few days, that Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of Love, was an actual physical entity that one could hold a conversation with.
Am… Am I gonna have to write a Thank-You note?
Kate and Diana pulled away, and looked into each other's eyes. Diana's were blue pools of longing and gratitude.
And Katherine Elizabeth Kane finally felt comfortable enough to reflect that in her own.
At least… until she remembered where she was.
Kate tore her gaze from Diana and looked into the living room…
...to the stunned silence and shocked stares of everyone assembled.
Cassandra Cain simply had her eyebrows raised, as though she had just seen dog do a particularly tricky somersault. Stephanie Brown was glaring at the floor. Both Harper Row and Selina Wayne had looks on their faces that told Kate that they were going to remember what had just happened later, and not in the most wholesome or family-friendly way.
But it was Cullen Row who broke the silence, and in so doing, proved that for all of the time he had recently spent with Alfred Pennyworth, he had gleaned none of the man's delicacy or tact.
"Wow," Cullen said. "I mean, I'm gay, and I still wanna die and come back as the sheets you two do it on!"
A scowling Harper Row leaned forward from her sitting position on the couch, balled up her fist, and punched her brother in the thigh.
The furor over the kiss was over almost instantly after Cullen called Harper a harridan for punching him in the thigh, and the laughter that followed. Kate and Diana sat next to Dick and Barbara on the couch, with Diana's arms around Kate's shoulders, as they both talked to Tim and Harper.
Stephanie was telling Cassandra about the fight with Damian when Bruce appeared near them.
"Cassandra?" he asked.
Both girls looked at him.
"Can I see you for a moment?"
Cassandra looked at Stephanie, who just shrugged.
Bruce and Cassandra began to walk away, when Stephanie spoke up.
"Hey, Bruce," Stephanie said.
Bruce turned to her.
"I beat the guy who beat you," she said.
Bruce nodded, and said "Everyone gets lucky at least once in their lives."
Stephanie scowled. "That's how we're rolling today, huh?"
"I never said you were the lucky one," Bruce said, and turned and walked away before Stephanie could register the compliment.
Cassandra followed Bruce out of the living room, through the main foyer, and out the front door.
They took an immediate left, to a small patio a few yards away from the main entrance, when Bruce stopped, and turned around.
His fists were balled up next to his thighs, and he was ever so slightly shifting from one foot to the next.
To say that Cassandra thought he was uncomfortable would be an understatement.
A few moments passed before he spoke.
"I…"
And then he shook his head, as though he were trying to physically loose the faulty and stillborn train of thought from his mind.
"There are… certain things that I'm not good at," Bruce said.
And he just left it there for a couple of seconds.
A confused Cassandra just said "Okay."
"I don't like admitting that," Bruce said. "But sometimes… sometimes the things I'm not good at are the things that must be done in a given situation. And when that happens… there are seven words I have to say."
More silence.
"Okay," Cassandra said yet again.
"I usually don't like saying them," Bruce said. "But they need to be said."
"Okay," said Cassandra for a third time, not knowing what the hell else to say.
"Do you know what they are?" Bruce asked.
Cassandra shook her head.
Bruce looked at the ground again.
He sighed. Then a second sigh, though that might have just been a regular deep breath.
Until finally, he looked at Cass… and said seven words.
"This looks like a job for Superman."
And then he looked.
Up in the sky.
Cassandra followed his eyeline, and felt her jaw drop.
Hovering about fifteen feet above them, and descending, was the Man of Steel himself, his red cape billowing behind him.
"Hey, Cass," Superman said, smiling. "Merry Christmas."
Cassandra's mouth was still open. Had she been blessed with the words of the poets, she still wouldn't have known what to say. This was Superman. She'd met Clark Kent at Bruce's wedding, she'd seen Superman off in the crowd at the funerals she'd gone to in the past few days, but never up close. Never looking at her with that blue warmth in his eyes. Smiling at her with that peaceable, loving smile that seem to have no limit to its depth or its radiance.
Cassandra Cain was a young woman with a rather shaky grasp on the concept of God.
But now… just… Holy shit, it's Superman!
"I'll leave you two alone," Bruce said, before he started to walk off.
"Merry Christmas, Bruce," Superman said.
"Merry Christmas, Clark," said Bruce. "Oh… and congratulations."
The smile fell off of Superman's face, to be replaced with a look of genuine astonishment.
"How?" Superman asked.
Bruce smiled.
"Lois didn't even know until yesterday morning!"
Bruce still smiled.
"I didn't even know until an hour ago!"
Bruce, his smile the widest Cassandra had ever seen it, turned and walked into the shadows toward the front door.
Superman's eyes fell upon Cassandra, and gave a sheepish smile of his own.
"Lois is pregnant," Superman said.
Cassandra's eyes widened. She wanted to congratulate him, but "Congratulations" was rough for her to say. So she said…
"Good."
...and immediately knew that sounded off.
"Before we go any further," Superman said, "I have to ask: How many home cooked meals do you eat? I don't mean Alfred's cucumber sandwiches, I mean the good stuff. The kind where you eat so much that when you're done, you swear you'll never eat again."
Cassandra shrugged.
"We should fix that," Superman said. "You are officially invited to Smallville for Easter. You'll live having eaten Ma Kent's home cooking. Me, Lois, Ma, Pa, Kara…"
Cassandra's head spun. Even apart from this most generous invitation by the template from which all other superheroes were based, all she knew about Easter was that it was a holiday because someone died and came back from the dead.
Wait a minute…
Superman died and came back from the dead.
WAS EASTER SUPERMAN'S HOLIDAY?
Cassandra was about to enthusiastically nod her head, feeling that she had to accept an invitation from the guy who invented a holiday everyone celebrated, when he continued speaking.
"Oh," Superman said. "And Conner will be there too. I hear that's something you might be interested in."
Cassandra looked down, trying to keep the smile off her face and the red off her cheeks.
"I had to ask," Superman said. "He'd have gotten too nervous to do it."
He looked around
"We might need somewhere to sit," Superman said.
He looked at the concrete railing that separated the patio from the grass of the front grounds. He blew the snow off.
From ten feet away.
"Gimme just a second," Superman said.
He levelled his heat vision on the railing, melting the excess snow, and drying it off.
"Ladies first," Superman said as his eyes stopped glowing.
Cassandra slowly walked over and sat on the railing.
And it was just the right kind of warm. The warm stone spread from her rear end to the rest of her body.
Superman sat down on the railing next to her, and exhaled. Cassandra noticed that his breath didn't fog. Then again, he just used ice breath to clear the snow off the toasty warm railing upon which she now sat, so maybe that was normal.
"Bruce wanted me to talk to you," Superman said.
Cassandra looked at him quizzically. "Why?"
"Because," Superman said, "he has problems saying how he really feels. That's not me insulting him, that's just the way it is. He'll admit it. It's the only flaw he'll admit to. Did you know it took him eleven years to tell Selina he was Batman?"
Cassandra blinked. No, she did not know that.
"It's true," Superman said. "Something happened to him during that Undying thing a year and a half ago, and he is honestly, genuinely trying to get better. I'm, uh… I'm proud of him."
Cassandra nodded. She didn't know how Batman could handle being this close to a wall of Kryptonian Nice like Superman without floating away.
"And the reason I'm here," Superman said, "is Bruce wants you to know how proud he is of you."
Superman smiled at her as Cassandra's brain tried to reckon with this.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah," Superman said, smiling wider. She remembered something Bruce had said about Clark Kent a few months ago.
"To the untrained eye," Bruce had said, "he is the image of everything pure and optimistic in the world. The reason for that is if you scratch the surface just a tiny bit, you'll see he's actually an eight-year-old."
And… yeah, she could see it. He was delivering good news second-hand, and putting his back into it.
Cassandra opened and closed her fists.
"Why. Couldn't. He. Tell. Me. Himself?" she asked while signing.
"Well," Superman said, "deep down he might think that if he told you himself, he'd be so bad at it that you wouldn't believe him. Or it could be that he saw something that needed doing and didn't want to leave it to chance. It could be that he saw someone who was better suited for a job that absolutely, positively needed to be done, and decided to take the personal loss by sending someone he knew could do it well. Like, oh… I dunno… sending Tim to fight your father while you went to deal with Jason?"
Cassandra's heavy brows raised in shock.
"Yeah," Superman said. "I heard about that. I know you're known more for your fists than your brains, but your quick thinking saved a hundred-and-seventy-five thousand people. You allowed Robin to use his skills to achieve an impossible task. And you saw a sad, angry young man hellbent on hurting himself, and you talked him down! The thing you are trying so hard to be good at, you proved you're good at."
Cassandra felt a warmth in her chest that she was pretty sure had nothing to do with the warm railing.
"Bruce is so proud of you," Superman said. "That's the lead story here, and that shouldn't get buried. But as an addition? I'm proud of you, and I wasn't even on the planet at the time."
She had to ask again. "Really?"
"Yeah!" Superman said, letting the eight-year-old out. "That's the golden ideal right there. To save lives without resorting to violence. That's what a hero does. Yeah, even in the best of circumstances we have to clench a fist and let it fly now and again, but we're supposed to instill hope. To prove there's something better on the other side of nighttime. Not even everyone in the Justice League understands that. Which is why it makes me hopeful that someone as young as you does."
Cassandra felt a smile spread across her face that she couldn't get to stay down. If Bruce's intent in bringing Superman here was to feel better about herself, then he succeeded. And wildly, at that.
"Speaking of which," Superman said. "You're eighteen, right?"
Cassandra thought so. She nodded anyway.
"So in three years," Superman said, "if you want it… You will be eligible for the Justice League."
The breath caught in Cassandra's throat. She knew it was technically possible to be in the Justice League, Cassandra thought it would never happen to her.
But then again, she thought the same thing about kissing boys, and look what happened.
"The… Justice League?" Cassandra asked.
"Sure," Superman said. "If you want to, of course. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. But if you want it, I don't know anyone in their right mind who would vote against you."
Superman hunched over a little bit so the two of them were at eye-level.
"The world needs people like you," Superman said. "Not just Gotham City."
That was what broke the spell.
Sitting next to someone who genuinely radiated this unalloyed goodness threw her own faults into sharp relief. A dissonance formed. The masquerade could not be prolonged.
She felt her shoulders slump, and her breath leave her lungs. And this railing was colder than it was a second ago.
"What's wrong?" Superman asked.
Cassandra took a deep breath, and said "You don't.. want… me… on…"
She trailed off, the motivation to even finish the sentence leaving her.
"Why not?" Superman asked.
Trying to meet the eyes of the Man of Steel, the guy who was emblematic of everything decent, was a task that, to Cassandra, was beyond herculean.
But she did it.
"I… killed a man," Cassandra said.
Superman frowned a little bit. His eyebrows tented. And he said:
"I know."
Cassandra… did not see that one coming.
Superman swiveled a little bit on the rail, and stared off into space.
"I know how you were raised," he said. "I know what your father did to you… By the way, I try to make it a point not to get too angry at things, but hearing about that… yeah."
He let silence settle for a little bit.
"But the interesting part of your story," Superman said, "was what happened next."
He looked at her again, and there was this strange twinkle in his eye.
"You ran," Superman said. "You knew that what you had done was wrong, and… no one told you. You just knew after having done it. And not only did you vow never to do it again, you embarked on the fool's errand of dressing up in a funny costume to stop others from doing it. Same as Bruce. Same as Diana. Same as Dick and Babs. Same as me."
As Cassandra felt that warmth spread within her again, Superman folded his arms.
"The reason I am the way I am," Superman said, "was because of the Kents. Whenever a supervillain tries to turn me evil or expose me to red Kryptonite, that is an effort to separate me from Ma and Pa. What they taught me."
A smile came to his lips as he apparently reminisced, but even that eventually faded.
"People have been trying to figure out since the world started spinning whether people are born the way they end up, or they're made that way," Superman said. "But I've seen enough to know that it's not a zero-sum game. It just varies from case to case. Some people are made good, or evil, and some people are just born that way."
Superman's face slackened as he thought of what he was going to say next.
"Lois and I are bringing a child into the world," Superman said. "And I know… I just know… that someone is going to do something horrible. And my child will ask me why it happened, and I don't know what I'm going to tell them."
His eye caught hers, and the twinkle came back.
"But what I'll do," Superman said, "is I'll point into this huge crowd of people wearing masks and capes. That crowd of people I'm fortunate enough to call my friends, that I'm blessed enough to call my family, and I'll point to one in particular… and tell them that there… there is Cassandra Cain. And she is all the proof that you, or I, or anyone needs that sometimes people are just born good."
Cassandra found it hard to breathe. And her eyes were stinging.
"Your actions have consequences, Cass," Superman said. "And they've been good ones. Because in that giant house is a small army of people who love you very much. They're happy to see you everyday. And their lives are better for having met you. They're really glad you're here."
The smile that suited him started coming back.
"And so am I, come to think of it."
Annnnnnd that did it.
Cassandra broke into silent tears, and tried to hide her face in her hands. She heaved sobs and air through a nose that had started to run.
Since she had killed Faizul, since she had run from her father, she had sought death as she knew that there was no power that could absolve her.
But she found absolution. On Christmas. Given unto her by the nicest and most powerful man on Earth.
"Do you need a hug?" Superman asked. "Because y-"
Cassandra's arms wrapped around Superman's broad chest, her hands coming to a rest on his back, beneath his cape.
"It's okay," Superman said, gently patting her back. "It's alright… I don't take lives and I give second chances because in the best case scenarios, they turn out like you. It's hard some days. So thank you for showing me I'm doing the right thing. Thank you for proving me right."
That did not help at all. She started crying harder.
But Superman showed no discomfort. He just held her close.
"I'm, uhh… I'm not gonna lie," Superman said. "There's another, smaller reason I'm here. See, I'm about to have a kid, and it helps to plan ahead. Eventually… I'm gonna need a babysitter, and I'm trying to recruit as many teenagers as I possibly can for that job."
Cassandra snorted laughter.
And in so doing, committed a breach of protocol whose embarrassment would follow her the rest of her days.
For Cassandra Cain just blasted cry-snot on the crest of the Kryptonian House of El on Superman's chest.
Diana had her arm around Kate's shoulders as they sat on the sofa next to Dick and Barbara.
And Kate thought this was weird.
Because she was five-eleven, she had been the tall girl in every relationship she had been in.
But Diana was taller than her.
In bare feet.
While Kate sat silently sipping her drink, Diana was talking to Harper and Tim.
Diana looked at Harper with great curiosity in her blue eyes, and asked "So DM stands for…"
"Dungeon Master," Harper said.
Diana repeated it, mulling it around in her mouth. "'Dungeon Master…'"
"The DM designs the campaign, figures out what the other people in the group fight…"
"With the characters they designed," Diana said.
"Right," Harper said.
"With attributes determined by rolls of an icosahedron."
Harper and Tim both looked at her, stumped.
"It's a shape with twenty sides," Diana said.
"Ohhhhh," Tim said. "Ico-"
"Icosahedron."
"I'll have to remember that," said Tim.
"You should join us," Harper said, and Kate could see a sheen of sweat almost immediately form on Harper's brow.
"Look," Harper said. "I only told you what D&D is in hopes that you'll join us. I mean you specifically."
"Why me?" Diana asked.
"Do you know how rad it would be to have Wonder Woman as DM of your game?" Harper asked.
"How would I, specifically, help?"
"It's a game that has a lot to do with fighting mythological creatures," Tim said. "And, y'know, you being the world's foremost expert."
"I mean, you wouldn't start as DM," Harper said. "You'd roll a character and start from the ground up to get a feel for the game, and then we'd let you loose. I have this bookbag here full of rulebooks and creature guides and stuff. Think that might be something you'd be interested in?"
Diana mulled this over, tapping her chin.
"It's a game that revolves around improvisation and resource management while dealing with approaches to combat scenarios," Diana said.
"Pretty much," Harper said. "You down?"
As soon as Diana opened her mouth, Kate knew she was going to say yes…. But her mouth closed when she caught sight of Kate.
With slight disappointment in her face, Diana looked back at Harper and said "I appreciate the offer, Harper, but I'm afraid I must decline."
Harper nodded, and said "It's cool," before turning to Tim.
"Think we can rope in Steph?"
"It's worth a shot," Tim said, before they got up and left to find her.
Diana sat back, and noticed Kate looking at her.
"What is it?" Diana asked.
"I can't believe you did that."
"Did what?"
"Turned Harper down."
"I.. don't know a whole lot about relationships," Diana said. "I haven't been in one in a while. But I do know that you don't ditch your girlfriend on Christmas."
Kate smiled. "I remember a few days ago, you told me that you had a lot of female acquaintances, but not a whole lot of female friends. Harper… is trying… to be… your friend."
Diana got this look on her face. Every part of her was surprised except her eyebrows. It was like that hadn't occurred to her, but she didn't want to admit it.
"I can do math," Kate said. "I'm willing to bet this has bugging you longer than I've been alive."
"Well…"
"Go," Kate said. "Your new girlfriend humbly requests that you make a new friend that is also a girl. And when you come back, we'll have already killed Santa Claus, and we'll save a really big piece just for you."
"That's not how Christmas works."
"Trust me," Kate said, "that's how Christmas works."
Diana gave a little resistance, before she broke into a wide, beaming smile.
She leaned over, gave Kate a kiss that was way too short, before she got off the couch to try and find Harper and Tim.
Kate reckoned that all of Diana's kisses were going to be too short no matter how long they lasted. That was gonna be a problem.
As she pondered this, she noticed that Dick and Barbara were staring at her.
Kate Kane smiled, took a sip of the strawberry daquiri that Alfred made her, and said "I am the best fucking girlfriend on Earth."
Cassandra had made a point of standing outside the main entrance of Wayne Manor, wiping the crusty remains of the tears out of her eyes, before she made her way back inside.
When she stepped into the warmth of the main foyer, Bruce was standing there, hands in the pockets of his blazer.
"How did it go?" he asked.
Cassandra readied her hands.
"I. Blew. Snot. On. His. S," she said while signing.
To his credit, Superman had been as good a sport about that as he was about practically everything else. He said he could clean it off just by flying really fast, and being as he had a kid on the way, that was just like practice. There would most likely be grosser stiff on his suit relatively soon.
Bruce blinked when he heard this.
And… then he started laughing.
Loud.
His laugh was a whole lot higher-pitched than she imagined.
Cassandra smiled a bit, just to humor him, but the laughing went on so long that he started turning red. Which was disturbing.
But eventually, Bruce calmed himself down. His face went back to his normal pale, and his demeanor went back to its usual gravity.
"I needed that," Bruce said.
Yeah, she could tell.
Bruce took a step toward her.
"You saved Jason," he said.
That hung in the air like a balloon made of steel before he spoke again.
"He was in a dark place," Bruce said. "And… and without throwing a punch, without him hurting himself, you… you brought one of my boys home."
He smiled at that, but Cassandra could see the rind of pain around it.
"Odds are," Bruce said, "he's going to spend some time in Arkham. He said he'd hate me forever, and he's stubborn enough to actually go through with it. And that's okay. It… It is. He doesn't have to forgive me, just so long as he's safe. And safe is what he is, because of you."
He took another step forward. "I wasn't always like this. I was worse. But I'm trying to get better. And I know that's not a straight line. I know there's more than a fair chance that I'll regress. That I'll backslide. That I'll become the guy I used to be, and if that happens, I'll get further and further away from the man I want to be. If that happens, I won't act as grateful as I should. But… know that I am. I will always owe you. Remember that, okay? Remember it so I don't forget."
The backs of Cassandra's eyes were stinging again.
Goddammit, not again…
"That talk from Clark?" Bruce asked. "That talk you've needed for a long time but I didn't have words for? That is my gratitude… Meet me in the Batcave in five minutes, and I'll give you what you've earned."
Bruce nodded at her and walked past on his way to the study.
Cassandra's eyes looked after him. She spared a stray thought as to how bunnies and colored eggs were involved in Superman's holiday when she heard footsteps behind her.
It was Stephanie.
"I've heard rumors most lascivious that you kissed Young Master Conner Kent during the Battle of Founders Island," Stephanie said. "I've chalked it up to idle gossip from the neighbor's chambermaid, but I simply had to ask you myself to see if this salacious hearsay was in any way founded in truth."
Cassandra narrowed her eyes, brought her voice down as low as it could go, and said "Oh, yes."
Stephanie threw her head back and cackled.
They kept talking as they slowly walked back to the living room.
"He has to pay for dinner," Stephanie said. "Partly because that's what a guy is supposed to do, and partly because you suffer from terminal broke. And if he wants something, it's best to make him wait five to ten business days before you give it to him."
"What… something?" Cassandra asked.
"Y'know… some thing."
Cassandra though she got it. Kinda.
"What if… I... want some thing?"
Stephanie stopped.
"I dunno," Stephanie said. "My experience with guys only goes as far as that, and uh…"
She stopped talking.
Cassandra's eyes had strayed for a second to Kate and Babs talking in the living room, but when they went back to Stephanie, she saw that Steph was just standing there looking at her feet.
And this pause went on for a while, as though she were a robot with its power source yanked out, before she finally turned back on.
"Wow," Stephanie said. "I am just… zonked out on painkillers right now. I'm gonna go get something to drink. Wonder if this dungeon has any orange juice in it."
"Want me… to…"
"No," Stephanie said. "I'm fine. I just need to regroup… and Harper is doing some D&D thing with Wonder Woman, I guess, I might check that out."
"Okay," Cassandra said.
"See you in a bit," Stephanie said as she started walking away. "And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," Cassandra said as she watched Stephanie walk off into the living room.
She stood there for another few seconds, wondering just what the hell that was all about, before she turned and made her way to the Batcave entrance in the study.
One of Cassandra Cain's most useful abilities was an almost unearthly awareness of her surroundings.
And it was this ability that, in this moment, failed her.
Because if she had simply looked up, she would have noticed that a few seconds prior, both she and Stephanie Brown had been standing under the mistletoe.
Kate saw the whole damn thing.
And her consciousness was scooped up and dropped all the way back in junior high.
Kate Kane and Stephanie Brown had seemingly hated each other from the first time they'd seen each other, but Kate knew that the enmity had started on Stephanie's behalf.
And now Kate knew why.
Sitting there on that couch, watching Stephanie make a retreat to the side hallway just off the living room after talking to Cassandra, she reflected how hard she had tried to cultivate what she called "The Kate Kane Advertisement." How hard she tried to appear aloof and invulnerable.
To top that all off, it was a piss-poor costume, and no one fell for it.
Except Stephanie Brown.
And the clarity that her little pantomime with Cassandra Cain offered Kate just proved that Stephanie Brown might have needed the real Kate Kane most of all.
Furthermore, Kate knew why she had hated Steph back.
Because once upon a time... she was Stephanie Brown.
Kate set her drink down on the coaster on the end table next to the couch, absent-mindedly told Dick that she was going to check on Diana, and got up to follow Stephanie. Slowly at first, so no one saw them together.
She caught up with Stephanie halfway down the side hallway off the living room.
"Hey Steph," she said, her shoes clacking on the marble floor.
Stephanie saw her, slumped her shoulders, and audibly groaned.
"Kate, don't you have Amazon pu-"
What Stephanie was about to say would no doubt have been exponentially vulgar, but Kate would never have heard it, as she cut Steph off with a rather right and almost smothering hug. Just right around the shoulders.
Stephanie's voice was muffled by Kate's left shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"I saw you, Steph," Kate said. "You and Cass. And I know… for a fact… you need this right now."
Stephanie stopped trying to wriggle out of Kate's embrace after she heard what she had to say. Then she just stood there, wrapped in Kate's arms for a few seconds, her own arms dangling at her sides.
Finally, after a few seconds, Stephanie said:
"I just… I love her so much, Kate."
"I know."
"It actually… physically… hurts."
"Jesus, I've been there."
Kate loosed Stephanie from her bear hug, and looked at her. Stephanie Brown didn't look sad or sick. She just looked defeated.
"Alright," Kate said. "One thing you gotta understand. If you're a woman who's into other women, we got but the one brain cell between all of us to share. Some tattoo artist in Michigan has it right now, and I hope her roller derby tryout goes well. Point is, you're supposed to fuck up."
"It can't be that bad, can it?" Stephanie asked.
"I spent a few days last week trying to convince Wonder Woman not to be attracted to me," Kate said. "Wonder Woman."
Stephanie's eyes went wide. "Holy shit, it is that bad."
"Look," Kate said, "I'm not gonna… be condescending, or-or spout cliches about how it gets better-"
"It got better for you, though," Stephanie said. "You're going out with Wonder Woman."
Kate desperately fought off the urge to say "YOU'RE FUCKIN' A RIGHT, I AM!'
"Even that has some weirdness to it, though," Kate said. "Like… I've always been the tall girl in a relationship, and she's putting her arm around my shoulders like I've done with every other girlfriend I've had, it-it takes some getting used to."
"Ohhhhh," Stephanie said. "That just means you get to be the little spoon."
Kate… hadn't thought of it like that.
And now that it was in her mind, she got a little light-headed.
She shook it off, though.
"You have my number, right?"
"Yup," Stephanie said.
"Good," said Kate. "If the shit gets thick, I'm there any time, day or night. I'm sleeping? I'm on patrol? I'm with Diana? Doesn't matter. Because I remember how much it sucked to be a lesbian when I was your age, and I would have paid to have someone to talk to about it."
"Well," Stephanie said, shuffling her feet. "I do have a question."
"Whatever you need."
"Oh, not about this," Stephanie said. "No, just a, uh… just a general one I've been wondering about for a year and a half now. I haven't gotten the chance to ask since, y'know, we hated each other?"
"Okay."
Stephanie folded her arms. "You're Bruce's cousin, right?"
"Right."
"Your dad is his mom's brother."
"Uh-huh."
"Soooo… When his parents died, why didn't your parents get custody? Why did custody of an eight-year-old worth a shitload of money go to some butler?"
Kate opened her mouth… and it stayed open, because she didn't have an answer.
"I have no idea," Kate said, vaguely horrified by this.
And the two of them just stood there like that for a while, sharing an awkward, uncomfortable silence.
"Anyway," Stephanie said, immediately perking up. "I'm gonna go look at that D&D thing Harper's trying to pull."
"Want company?"
Stephanie just shrugged her shoulders, and said "Ehh..."
They started to walk down the hall together.
"But seriously," Kate said. "You gonna be okay?"
Stephanie's expression darkened slightly as she walked.
"Cass is gonna make it," Stephanie said. "She's gonna be happy, I just know it. So… I win, right?"
Cassandra found Bruce standing in the rear of the Batcave, in front of the Batcomputer.
And next to a six foot tall steel capsule.
Cassandra came to a halt a few feet away, and just shrugged her shoulders.
"Well?" she asked.
At which point Bruce reached up to the top of the capsule, and pressed a button.
The two vertical doors of the capsule slid open.
The mask was very similar to her Orphan mask, what with the black lenses on the eyes, and the line of stitches that went from corner to corner of the mouth, cresting on the bridge of the nose. The difference being two long and thin ears emerging from the top on the left and right side of the head.
The suit was black and shiny like Batwoman's. The cape was black as well, but all black on both sides, with no colored lining. Black gloves and black boots.
In fact, there were only two splashes of color on the whole of the costume.
The first was the yellow utility belt on the waist.
The second was the symbol on the chest.
A yellow outline.
In the shape of a Bat.
Cassandra looked at this costume on the mannequin inside the capsule… until she realized what was happening.
She couldn't speak.
She couldn't even breathe.
Cassandra dropped to her knees on the cold concrete of the Batcave.
"The point is," Bruce said softly, "you don't have to be Orphan anymore. Not if you don't want to be."
That symbol on the chest. The symbol that raised her from nothing and allowed her to save lives. To stop those who would take them.
And it was hers now.
The word slid out of her. As though a pair of large hands wrapped around her stomach and squeezed it out.
"Batgirl…"
"I hope you understand how important this is," Bruce said. "Me, Barbara, and Kate, we all took The Bat. This is the only time it's ever been freely given, and it's being given to you."
"What… about… Babs?" Cassandra asked.
"Barbara has wanted you to be the second Batgirl since two weeks after you moved into the Clock Tower," Bruce said. "I, on the other hand, needed to be sure you were ready."
"How?"
"When you told us you were," Bruce said. "The night of the Battle of Founders Island. Oracle, and Robin, and Bluebird, they all needed guidance in a very uncertain time. Guidance you provided. Guidance that helped them succeed and save thousands of lives. You led, Cassandra. You weren't the sword. You were the hand that wielded it."
Cassandra caught her breath. She collected herself. And then she rose.
"What if I… don't.. want it?" she asked.
Bruce blinked in evident confusion. "You don't want to be Batgirl?"
"Oh, I want it," Cassandra said, unable to keep the longing out of her deep voice. "But… what if… I don't?"
"What… like not doing this at all?"
Cassandra nodded.
"Then you don't have to," Bruce said.
Cassandra held up her calloused hands, her flat and dangerous knuckles pointing at him.
"I have… gifts," Cassandra said. "Shouldn't I… use them?"
Bruce put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "So what you're saying is that since you were trained from birth, with no say in it, you should keep doing it for the rest of your life whether you want to do it or not?"
Cassandra shrugged.
Bruce walked up to her.
"Cassandra… Says who?"
She regarded him for a moment through squinting eyes, before she wrapped him in a hug.
Cassandra considered that there might be some value to this Bruce Wayne character after all.
She let him go when she observed that he was uncomfortable.
"Alright," Bruce said. "I'm going to go upstairs to give you some time alone. But in thirty minutes, I want you suited up, and ready to go."
"We're… going out?" Cassandra asked in confusion.
"Yeah," Bruce said. "It's Christmas. Don't you want to play with your new toys?"
The new Batgirl stood next to Batman on top of Wayne Tower on the mainland, under a fresh spate of falling snow.
The rest of them were behind them, but it was just Batman and Batgirl on the edge, with over a hundred stories beneath them.
"You've watched us glide with our capes before?" Batman asked.
Batgirl nodded.
"So you know how to do it."
Batgirl gave a thumbs up.
"What you need to do," Batman said, "is jump, and then use your cape to glide. Circle the building a few times. There's a beacon in the right thumb of your glove. If you have trouble, press it, and I'll glide down and get you. Have fun… And don't tell Nightwing or Oracle I told you that. Their first experiences in costume weren't nearly as pleasant, but I was a different man then."
Batgirl didn't know what to say to that, so she opted to say nothing at all.
She took a deep breath, and let it out through her new mask in a fog.
Batgirl stepped closer to the edge, spread her cape, and fell forward.
She could feel the updraft of air beneath her cape in the bones of her arms. She straightened her body out, her legs behind her, and began her slow, circuitous glide down to the snowy streets of Gotham below.
Cassandra Cain, the One-Who-Is-All-That-Never-Was, the Orphan with a despicable father, and the second-ever Batgirl, looked out at the city. How the thin curtain of snow lent its seemingly infinite lights a heavenly bloom.
She thought Gotham City was beautiful.
And maybe… maybe she'd keep it after all.
They all stood at the edge of the roof of Wayne Tower.
Spoiler was on the far left. Because of her broken arm, she had the costume boots, pants, mask, hood, and cape on, but not the shirt or the right glove. She had to wear her purlpe civilian sweater
Batwoman was to her right, looking at her.
The first girl Kate Kane had ever had a crush on was Joanie Freed in her eighth grade class. She was a fellow army brat and, at the time, they were getting their education on base at Fort Bragg, in whose infirmary where Kate was actually born (Jacob Kane had been re-stationed there). Yes, yes, it's true. One of Gotham City's wealthiest daughters was actually born in North Carolina.
Joanie Freed was straight, which, well, that just fucking figured, didn't it?
But Kate never had to work with Joanie Freed.
Moreover, even in the parallel universe in which they did share employment, Joanie Freed didn't get promoted, and that promotion wouldn't have involved a tight black costume which would have caused the young Kate Kane to Blue Screen with Stage Four Lust.
Batwoman knew that it had to suck to be Stephanie Brown right now.
While Wonder Woman conversed animatedly with Bluebird, Batwoman reached out, put a hand on Spoiler's shoulder, and squeezed.
A tap on Batwoman's right shoulder, and she looked to see a smiling Wonder Woman, who kissed the nose of her mask.
"I am going to be a Dwarven Artificer named Hilda," Wonder Woman said.
"As long as you're happy," Batwoman said.
Wonder Woman smiled wider and more innocently. "And my construct's name is Eunice."
"I don't think your friend Cissy likes me," Robin said.
Bluebird, who had just been talking to Wonder Woman about her D&D character, looked at him.
"Cissy doesn't like anyone," Bluebird said. "She thinks anybody who uses hair gel is just a commercial tool for the rich. You didn't stand a chance."
"I'm Robin," he said. "I am a tool for the rich."
"Yeah, but not a commercial one," Bluebird said. "Just, y'know… a civic one."
To Robin's right, Alfred Pennyworth beheld Cullen Row.
He was wearing Alfred's Christmas present.
Which was a tuxedo. Not a butler's tuxedo, but a slim fit that could be found in almost every James Bond movie. It wasn't Savile Row, but Gotham City's tailors weren't too shabby.
"Do you like it?" Alfred asked.
Cullen looked at him, his smile blissful. "It's… It's tight."
Alfred frowned. "You need me to let it out?"
"Wha-No, no, I mean it's awesome. Thank you, Mister Pennyworth."
"You are most welcome, Mister Row."
To the right of the be-tuxedoed Cullen Row, Nightwing and Oracle looked down, watching the second Batgirl Cassandra Cain continue her loops around Wayne Tower.
"Goddammit," Oracle said suddenly, surprising Nightwing.
Looking at her with concern, Nightwing saw Oracle switch off her green hologram mask, and yank off the black one beneath.
The tears in Barbara's eyes rolled down her cheeks. A smile shot across her face of such sweetness and triumph that it could stop the heart to behold
Nightwing was struck with pride, and with the fact that redheads with snow falling in their hair just looked beautiful, didn't they?
He put his arm around her shoulders, kissed her temple, and they both resumed watching the protege of Barbara Gordon make her way down to Earth.
And far off to the right, away from everyone else, stood Batman and Catwoman.
Batman had his arms folded, and he was softly (yet insistently) tapping his right index finger on the left bicep of his armor.
She looked at him and smirked. "Nervous, Sailor?"
Batman looked at her, before looking back down. "The last few days have given me a lot to think about," he said.
"Such as?" asked Catwoman.
"I have to be realistic," Batman said. "In a perfect world, I could rid Gotham of crime, and I can hang this uniform up. But this world isn't perfect. There will come a day when I can't or won't be Batman anymore, and when that day comes, this cowl needs to pass to someone else."
The sigh he let off presaged a bout of silence.
"Dick Grayson can go back and forth on whether he wants to be Batman," he said. "But the fact of the matter is, he has doubts. And being Batman isn't something you can be ninety-nine percent sure about. As for Tim Drake, he seems to think there is a normal life after all of this. Beyond the costume. I hope he finds it… I hope he tells me what it's like."
Catwoman nodded. "So…"
"So," Batman said, "nothing is certain. Nothing is guaranteed. The future can change things forever. But if you were to ask me, right here, right now, who should wear the uniform after I stop… then I would say it needs to be Cassandra Cain."
With her eyes wide, with a voice full of emotion, Catwoman looked at Batman and asked:
"Have you lost your fucking mind?"
To say that Batman was perplexed would be stating things rather softly.
Catwoman actually started sputtering. "I… Just… It… Look, no one is doubting Orph… doubting Batgirl's skill. But you're talking going from someone who's the World's Greatest Detective to someone who can't read. Who can't write. Who can barely even talk."
"She can learn."
"How long is it gonna take, though?"
"When I set out to be Batman," he said, "I wasn't a tenth of the fighter she is. Just because she and I started in different holes doesn't mean they weren't equally deep. And…"
"And what?" Catwoman asked.
"And," Batman said, "I've been doing this for years and not a lot has changed. Maybe a new approach is needed. Maybe someone needs to be Batman for a much better reason than I am."
"Your parents were murdered," Catwoman said. "What better reason is there?"
"I put on The Bat," he said, "and it's the mission. I put on The Bat, and I'm using my fists to work out all the bad things that have ever happened to me."
Batman stopped, and looked out over the edge. Batgirl was coming around to this side of Wayne Tower again.
"Tonight, she put on The Bat," he said. "And tonight… she is happy."
He looked at Catwoman, and faint traces of smile formed on the ends of his mouth.
"There is no better reason," he said.
Catwoman appreciated the sentiment.
But still, though…
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"That's, uh… That's really sweet, Sailor. But the fact of the matter is, she can't do what you do alone."
When she opened her eyes, she saw Batman looking at her with genuine and honest confusion.
"Selina," he said. "Neither can I."
TO BE CONTINUED