The rain started at almost the exact moment they brought Mary in, as though by harboring her down in the darkness to leech out the poison and save the person, everything organic in the world had shifted in reaction. They'd dragged Mary's temporarily paralysed body down to the Batcave just before dawn, before the sun had a chance to reinvigorate the infection within her as it heated the morning and lit up Gotham's darkness, but instead the skies had opened, refusing to shut again for much longer than it took the water to drain. Those first seventy-two hours were torrential – the Gotham River burst its banks, homes evacuated, and though she wanted nothing more than to focus all of her energies on helping her friend, Batwoman had no choice but to be out in it. People were frightened, panic buying, looting, rioting against the lack of clear support from city officials who had no idea how to deal with a situation like this. As Mary's body fought to survive the brutal starvation killing of her plant parasite – no light, no water except for a carefully controlled drip feed with some kind of chemical auxin to impede shoot growth – Ryan fought to save the city from being washed into the sewers. Not that a few inhabitants didn't belong down there.

Throughout those first few days Luke and Sophie had stayed with Mary in shifts, keeping her vitals as steady as they could, watching her pale and listening to her cry out in pain when the Ivy overpowered the sedative enough in its battle to survive. They didn't talk about it, but Ryan had heard things over the comms, sounds that would find their way into her nightmares for weeks to come. She's not sure if any of them slept those three nights – she certainly didn't and when Luke and Sophie left the Batcave it was to back up the efforts of Batwoman and even GCPD against the rain and its repercussions. To be honest, she's not sure they would have got through it all if they'd had time to process, to rest, to let the darkness in. They kept going because they had to, until they didn't have to anymore, and now here they were, more than two months later and other than Mary still being a precautionary night dweller who spends most of her time in the Batcave, they've shifted right back to where they were. Almost. Okay, they're basically in some fucked up AU where every single relationship is fraught and raw and essentially unbearable but none of them want to deal with any of it or even acknowledge their issues.

Sophie is almost never around except when Luke or Mary call her for a mission, or when she and her little fuck friend Montoya have a new lead on a trophy. Alice is back in Arkham but being monitored by Mary who seems to have a new affinity with her but insists it's just duty of care. Luke can barely look Mary in the eyes but also can't stand when she's out of his sight. And Ryan? The only time Ryan feels like she can even breathe anymore is when the (usual amount of) rainfall stops and she goes up to the roof alone to look out over Gotham. She still hasn't told anyone about the Marquis situation and beyond helping Jada incapacitate him she's had no further involvement with the Jets. She told herself that her chosen family came before biology and that was true, but the threats had shifted now and still she couldn't bring herself to answer Jada's calls. Ryan worked and then Batwoman worked and that was pretty much all she had in her right now. Other than these quiet moments on the damp rooftop, she allowed herself no time for anything but the fight. She was exhausted; she had no energy for feelings no matter how hard or often they came a knocking.

'It's kind of familiar now huh.' Luke swings his feet up and through the railings to sit beside her, not realizing that she's had the sense to lay down a waterproof first.

'Having a wet ass?' she teases, though her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

'Excellent,' Luke huffs but seemingly embraces it as he doesn't move except to look out over the city.

'The air kind of changes,' Ryan murmurs. 'Becomes more…' She exhales loudly, searching for the right word. 'Breathable somehow.'

'It felt like that down there too. In the cave…that night.'

Ryan ignores the urge to look right at him, understanding it would stop him from speaking. They'd had a few moments like this recently, just the two of them, fleeting and never referred to again.

'She went so still and so quiet and I just knew it was over. I could feel it. I knew the rain had stopped. I knew we could all just take a breath again.'

'I feel like that every time the rain stops now. It's the in between parts I'm struggling with.'

'Me too,' Luke sighs, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon even as Ryan brings her head down onto his shoulder. 'But we can't keep hoping for rain.'

'She's not here, don't worry, you can come in.' Mary rolls her eyes without turning her head from the laptop in front of her, her new signature move when it comes to the lady loving ladies in her life.

'I figured as much when you invited me over.' Sophie replies, unsure whether to voice her next observation but a little Tequila brave. Or stupid. 'In fact, she never seems to be home much at all anymore…'

'She's just on patrol with Luke, which you would know if you dared to grace us with your presence in team meetings anymore.' Mary swivels in her chair to fix Sophie with a very pointed stare. 'Instead of running around with the dastardly detective all the time.'

Now it was Sophie's turn to roll her eyes. 'She's not dastardly and we do not run around – '

'I do not need to hear the details of what it is the two of you do.'

Sophie flops into the sofa, suddenly looking exhausted and deflated, and Mary softens the sark just a little.

'But I do know she's not a dastard. I mean, she did help to save my life, and you do actually generally have good taste in women so she can't be all bad. I just don't think she's, y'know, the one for you, that's all.'

Sophie exhales, hard, hands moving to cover her eyes as she attempts to shake off whatever this sudden funk is. 'I need another drink. STAT.'

'Now that I can absolutely get on board with.'

A bottle and a half of nice red later and both women are more relaxed than they've felt in a while. It's pitch black out, perversely the only time Mary really feels safe nowadays, and though they've both been skirting the surface of real conversation, she feels light and open in a way she just hasn't been able to since her body ceased to be her own. She's not quite ready to deal with everything that did to her, to her relationships, just yet, but she is prepared to dip her toes in order to provide someone else's real talk. To at least help to fix someone else. Maybe even a couple of someones.

'So this thing with Montoya – is it worth it?'

Sophie groans, reaching for her glass and taking a big gulp before meeting Mary's eyes at the other end of the sofa.

'It's…it's easy.' She plays with the stem of her glass, trying to find the right words to explain how 'this thing' with Renee has been just what she needed at the exact wrong time. Or maybe the exact wrong thing at the right time? 'When I'm with her I just…am. I'm me. Or at least a version of me I'm ok with. No pretending, no hiding, no huge overwhelming, terrifying feelings – it's not hard to be with her and I like that. After everything with Kate and… I need that.'

Mary crinkles her brow, shaking her head almost imperceptibly.

'What?' Sophie asks warily, knowing a delayed response means more than just a flippant one liner. 'I know full well you're brewing an opinion so spill it.'

'The two of you are actually the perfect match.'

'Not what I was expecting…'

'You're both beautiful and strong and smart, and so fucking dumb at times I just want to knock your heads together. You're so caught up in the ways you've already hurt each other that you refuse to acknowledge how much more it hurts the way things are.'

'I'm so confused.'

'NOT feeling the big scary feelings IS hiding, you dumbass! It's the exact opposite of being who you really are and the actual definition of pretending, and you're both doing it because you're both too stupid and stubborn to get past the past and admit you want to be together!'

'Renee and I are not – '

'Jesus Soph,' Mary's wide eyes are incredulous. 'I'm not talking about you and Renee.'