"Are you serious?" Megan asked, taken aback by April's request. "Do you really want to?"
The Auburn nodded, assured, stiffly standing while gazing out the window into space. Her hands resting softly on her thighs. Megan saw no creak of hesitation in April's cool expression. No retraction. She simple said it, and that was that; a complete 180 from a few weeks ago.
Was April sure? Megan thought, opening her mouth.
"I understand your confusion," April said, without turning around, "but I want to stop it. It hasn't presented any progression; it's just falling flat. The more I linger...I mean we, linger on it...well, I've just felt uncomfortable."
Megan remained confused. "Okay, but she's your sister. Despite what she's done...getting her back should at least matter."
"I do want her back. I promise. But right now, no. She's not ready."
"Ready? Ready for what?"
April closed her eyes and remained silent for a moment. "Kaldur agrees."
"What?"
April finally turned around, "Kaldur agreed; he informed the others to stop and return to their normal duties. There's nothing to worry about," she took notice of Megan's expression, "in fact, there's nothing to worry about at all. I have a hunch May is alright. Wherever she might be, when the time is right, she'll make herself known."
Wide-eyed, Megan blinked a few times; April just said it so calmly. And the smile smoothly resting on her lips reverberated unsettlement through her. Why did April flip suddenly? Was it just a defense? Or….she wanted to say something, but Kaldur walked over. He acknowledged her with a stiff nod and smiled ardently at April. Lowering his gaze softly. She returned with a gentle nod and smile, took hold of his arm, and the two walked off together. Never really breaking their gaze, Kaldur at least. If Megan had stayed and watched them a little longer, she would have noticed the cutting look April threw back her way.
"I am not sure if you prefer honey or sugar with your tea," you said, setting a cup down on the coffee before Cassandra, placing the two add-ins next to it.
She sat on the couch in the living room; you sat next to her in the farmhouse's mental construction. You had allowed her in, as she told it was up to you if she was allowed entrance. She didn't seem a threat, so you let her in. Quicker than she predicted. Nevertheless, she accepted.
"Neither. Really, but thank you," she picked up the cup. Her eyes fall to the slow rising steam; she deuced it as jasmine from its gentle aroma.
You had the same. It was your favorite. After all, you didn't anything in your tea either, nor did you pick it up. You sat in silence next to her, staring straight ahead at the staircase. Your mind, mind, rumbling with a wheel of questions and other sharp thoughts. Cassandra noticed the stiffen in your shoulders and the digging of your nails as you gripped your jeans. Your legs crossed over one another, locked. Body language easy to read; you were an open book. Regardless she had to tread carefully.
Taking a sip of her released a small refreshing sigh that slipped to her lips. "This was well made, professional almost," she complimented.
"Thank you," you muttered.
"What about yours?"
Your eyes flip to it. "Not at the moment."
She set her downs and turned to you. "What's on your mind? Is there something you want to ask me? Talk about? I'm here."
Behind your eyes, your thoughts debated to answer or not. Rummaging for the right words, should you even bother asking? You didn't know her very well…still….you needed to end order to get the answers you wanted. To get your powers back, and most importantly, you had to be quick; otherwise, Alfred would wonder why you hadn't wakened from your 'meditation.' At the moment, you sat in the training room with the excuse of meditation. It the best cover you would think of at the moment to 'clear your mind.' This was your fourth time doing so. You tried lounging outside on a lawn chair, but Alfred came to wake you. Standing over you worried, that happened a few times.
You open your mouth about to say it, then quickly close it. Cassandra waited patiently, important trust; with a side glance, her eyes trail around the room for something she could use. Popping to the pictures hanging and those on the stand next to her. Most were older pictures of April with her family when she was younger; very if not, some had some of you. Locking with the picture of April, her mother, and father, she spoke.
"Your sister and father? Right? With her mother?" She pointed.
You gave the picture your attention, sitting up straight a little as your shoulders mildly relaxed.
"Yes. Her mother, years ago."
"She's pretty. Your sister has her eyes and face."
"Thank you, she does. It is one of her favorites," your voice slightly perked up a bit. "My father's too."
"Did you ever meet her?"
You pause for a moment thinking about it, your eyes lower to the side, "No. I have not. But I am sure she was a wonderful person. My sister holds her in high regard. So I do as well."
"You and your sister are close. You love her greatly, I can tell." She turned a kind smile to you; you kept your eyes on the photo while your mind thought of April. Cassandra saw them began to flood.
A part from her wanted to reach a hand across and squeeze your hand, but she held. She continued.
"Your sister is blessed to have a younger sister like you."
"I should be the blessed one for having a sister like her." Your voice hitched a little.
Cassandra noticed, gazing around, "This was the home you two shared? It's rather cozy. Thank you again for finally letting me in."
"To answer your question, yes we shared this…" you bite your bottom lip softly, "home and you are welcome. It would be rude to let you stay outside, besides," you finally turn to her, "you assured me that you had a reason why I lost my powers. There is someone out there who would like to help me."
You stand, walking to the front door; open it. She stood too and followed you outside.
Four hours, that's the amount of time that passed; Alfred knew meditation was deep but not rooted. It was nearing evening, and you still hadn't emerged from the room; though you gave instructions not to be disturbed, Master Bruce and Tim overrode it. Your well-being was of utmost importance. He peered in every so often to check-in. You remained in the same position. Skipping lunch, slurping breakfast down like a pipe; isolation. He wondered this manor's residence behavior was affecting you.
He had hoped not, at the start of this strange behavior with you. Now, he was not quite sure. In the kitchen, he was preparing dinner, which you ate a bit past the proper time. Taking and eating it elsewhere. Mostly your room or outside on the patio. You were like a walking shade around here. The good news, you were healing well. Your bandages and gaze were gone.
With his sleeves pushed up and handed gloved, he chopped away at the naked onion before him: tonight's dish, Roasted Beef Pot Pie with a wine reduction sauce. The meat, already marinated and baking in the oven for the last three hours, filled the room with a symphony of aromas dancing together. Tim told you enjoyed the kitchen, yet you hadn't bothered to assist him; yet.
Master Tim, that boy was still working hard to solve this puzzling mystery about…you. He was rarely here. If he was, it was late down below. Often he came to check on you; Alfred released a despondent sigh, the onion switched out for carrots; the young man though he was valiantly adhering to Master Bruce's orders….more needed to be done. With you. For you. Speaking of Master Bruce, Alfred voiced his concerns to the man, who followed Tim's direction at the moment.
Scallions. Spices. Celery. Peas were added to the crust.
As dusk turned to night, on Gotham's further side, the intercity bus pulls into the station; passengers began piling out and began collecting their things. One hooded figure grabs their one duffle bag and quietly leaves unnoticed. After walking a few blocks, passing those on the street, they reached up a hand and took off their hood.
Arsenal, Roy, stationed his eyes straight ahead in the direction of Wayne Manor.