"There, now. Everything's going to be just fine." The crisp British accent could only belong to one person. Alfred. Bruce's butler in name, but so much more in truth. Cass blinked open her eyes to reveal the Batcave underneath Wayne Manor. Her head hurt, a dull ache, and she struggled to remember what had happened. With a gasp it all came back to her and she struggled to sit up.
"Miss Cassandra! I must insist..." Alfred hurried over, intent on making her lie back down, but she was too quick for him. She slipped from the medical bed and onto the cold floor of the cave. Unfortunately this made her head spin and she ended up clutching the bed for support as Alfred reached her side. "There, you see? Now, back into bed with you." She ignored him, knowing he hadn't the strength to force her back into the bed.
"I...hafta..." she fought for words as she swallowed a wave of nausea. "Haff...have to...help." Alfred had taken over the job of supporting her, one arm around her waist, the other holding her own arm draped across his shoulders, but at this he stiffened.
"Absolutely not! You're in no condition to..." he broke off as she forced herself upright, standing without aid, indicating that she was well enough. He simply looked at her and she discovered where Batman had learned some of his intimidating techniques. She closed her eyes tightly, willing the room to stop spinning.
"See? I'm...fine." She didn't see him roll his eyes or pick up a small cylinder.
"Be that as it may, Miss Cassandra, Master Bruce gave me strict instructions that you were not to go out again tonight. I'm sorry." His voice softened at the last, and she turned, hearing the threat it implied. But she was too slow, her reflexes delayed, and she felt the cool mist brush against her cheek carrying her into unconsciousness.
She had been right in supposing him unable to force her into the bed, resisting. But, though he may be of a more advanced age, he was in surprisingly good shape and she didn't weigh much. Body fat was not a common trait among Batman's clan.
She woke some time later to the soft clicking of a keyboard. She carefully sat up, testing her equilibrium, and was pleased to discover that the whatever had effected her so was no longer making any impact on her system. She moved quickly into the main room, deciding to forego taking retribution against Alfred. He was only obeying orders, after all. Her prey was he who had given the order.
"You're awake." The tone was observational, no hint of his feelings, good or bad, was given. Cass glared at the back of his head, trying to decide how best to broach the subject of her exclusion from the mission. Finally, deciding that they had both always communicated best with as few words as possible, she gave voice to the largest question rattling around inside her head.
"Why?" She thought for a moment he wasn't going to react, which wouldn't be unusual for him, but he surprised her by sighing and turning.
"Cassandra, you were injured and unfit to go running into a fight. It would have been suicide on your part and gross misjudgment on mine if I were to have allowed..."
"No." He fell silent, and though she couldn't see his face she could read his surprise at not only being interrupted but also having his decisions questioned. "You didn't let me help... even before." Her manner was accusatory, though she couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice. He studied her for a minute and then looked away. She followed his gaze to the glass case memorializing Jason Todd's Robin costume. "You think I...can't?" her distress was becoming more obvious as she struggled to find the words.
"No!" his outburst seemed to surprise even him. "No. That's not it at all. I have complete faith in your abilities but..." he broke off, contemplating Jason's costume again, "but your talents rely greatly on the fact that you can anticipate your opponent's actions before they translate thoughts into movement. Joker is different from any adversary you have faced before. His thoughts and actions are often totally unconnected...unpredictable. It is part of what makes him so dangerous. To someone who depends on reading someone's intentions to survive," he looked pointedly at her, "it makes him even more deadly."
Cass pondered this for a moment. She knew that Robin, Tim, had taken on the Joker all alone and triumphed. But Jason had been killed, Barbara had lost the use of her legs, and, she remembered vaguely, Babs' stepmother had died at the hand of the barbaric clown. Dick, Nightwing, had even been pushed to cross that forbidden line and had killed the Joker before Batman had brought him back to life. Spoiler's death probably didn't help much either. Cass knew Batman could be a little...unreasonable when it came to the death of a vigilante. Even one that never had quite made it into the "family". She could understand his reluctance, she supposed, though it galled her to be in such a helpless position.
"I..." she sighed. "I understand." And she knew that he could see that she did understand, and that she accepted his decision. But... "Why...how..." she fought to find the words. "How come I was so..." she waved her hands around vaguely, not sure how to describe her previous incapacity.
"You were struck by one of Joker's razor cards. You're lucky it hit at the angle it did, as it simply struck the nerve and caused the loss of equilibrium instead of slicing open your head. On the other hand, it did manage to split the skin a little," she reached up and felt, for the first time, the small line of stitches in her forehead, "and it had enough residue from Joker's latest concoction to make any possibility of speedy recovery impossible." She nodded, remembering the dizziness and nausea that had stricken her earlier. But Batman wasn't through, "We had some antidotes from some of his other mixtures and they seemed to work, but I'm not taking any chances." He motioned to some test tubes on the table nearby. Three held varying amounts of a red liquid she assumed to be blood, and two others held colorful solutions of some sort.
"Mine?" He nodded briefly and returned to his work on the computer. She sighed, knowing that any action was not an option for the rest of the night. She pulled at her sleeve to inspect where they had drawn blood from her arm, grimacing at the already purpling bruise. Though she had been unconscious for an unknown length of time she felt that all she really wanted was some sleep. She slid a glance up to where Batman was working and then over to the entrance to the cave.
"I...I am going to...go." He nodded, not really attending her anymore. Her stomach rumbled and she decided to stop by the kitchen before returning to her apartment. Alfred would have food...he always had food ready for any of the vigilantes who dropped in.
"Good evening, Miss Cassandra." His voice held no hint of their previous encounter. Well, if he could pretend it didn't happen, so could she... especially if he gave her some of the delicious-smelling chicken he had just taken out of the oven. He seemed to know what she wanted without her saying a word, and was already preparing a plate.
"Thanks." She sat at the counter and began devouring the meat while Alfred puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up, preparing some sort of bread, and doing all the kitcheny things that she didn't understand.
"I have prepared some meals for you that can just be heated up in the microwave," he said microwave as if it were a dirt word, and she grinned. Poor Alfred, he was surrounded by culinary morons who probably would burn water, and it frustrated him to no end. "Also, I will gladly drive you back to the city if you are willing to wait while I finish here." He indicated a mixing bowl that was full of some sort of dough. She nodded, finishing the last of her meal, and slid down from her seat. She wandered into one of the other rooms, one with a large TV on one wall and a wall full of books on the other side. She hesitated, then, looking around to make sure no one was watching, she cautiously approached the books. They were all hard-cover and thick, and she was a little daunted by the prospect of so many words. But she reached out and snagged the thinnest one, thinking to practice while she waited for Alfred.
"T-H-E...the...P-R-O-P-E-R-T-I-E-S...prop..er...proper...tyes...proper...ties?" That didn't make any sense. Where there unproper ways to tie things? "O-F..of" that was an easy one, "C-H-E-M-I-C-A-L-S...che..mee...cals...chemicals." She didn't recognize the word, though that could be because she was pronouncing the ch- like in chain, and, frustrated, she put the book down with a sigh.
"Miss?" She nearly leapt from the chair, seeing Alfred in much the same light as she would Batman rescuing her from a death trap. "Are you ready to return home?" She grinned in relief.
"Yes!"
The next day Cass was opening one of Alfred's dinners when a knock on the door stopped her. She peered out the keyhole, a behavior that had been drilled into her aggressively by Babs, and was surprised to see Tim standing there, a nervous look on his face. She opened the door, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh! Hey, Cass...I was in the neighborhood and...What I mean is...." He broke off, a blush staining his cheeks. Cass didn't understand why he was so tense, but she opened the door wider, motioning him inside. As he entered she noticed for the first time the bag and box he had clutched in his hands. She couldn't see into the bag, but the box looked and smelled suspiciously like pizza.
"Pizza?" He jumped, startled, but managed not to drop any of his burdens. He looked around the room briefly, obviously curious, but then turned his attention back to her.
"Um, yeah. I was... well..." he cleared his throat. "I was visiting Babs, working out some bugs in my palm data system for the Robin costume, and since it was close by I thought...well, actually Babs said..." Cass couldn't quite suppress a smile. Poor Tim.
"Babs is... checking up on me?" He looked at her in surprised; most of his contact with her had been in costume and he wasn't used to her having a sense of humor. It relaxed him, though, and he grinned.
"Yeah, I guess. She sent over some books," he shrugged, remembering the problem Babs' interference had caused before, but Cass didn't seem too upset. "Some fairy tales."
"More?" He laughed at her wry query, and she motioned to a small stack of books on the table. Most of them were children's stories, such as Snow White, Cinderella, and Beauty and the Beast,
"I think she decided that it would be funny..." he trailed off, drawing a book out of the bag he had brought. She took the book and looked at him questioningly. He had turned away, though, setting the pizza down and rummaging through the bag for the other books. She recognized, with surprise, that he was giving her the opportunity to examine the book without feeling pressure from him.
She examined the cover. It wasn't as colorful as some of the other ones, containing a dark field of thorns as the image. The title held two words and she carefully sounded the letters out in her head before attempting to read it aloud.
"S- sleeping Beauty?" her pronunciation was a little off, but she was able to recognize the words and she looked at Tim, wondering why Babs would think this book funnier than any others. He turned back, shrugging, but also trying to hide a smile. "You think it is funny too?"
"Well..." he bit his lip, unsure of whether she would see the humor or not. "Considering your recent bout with unconsciousness..." her eyes lit with understanding and she looked down at the book again. Tim worried that she had taken offense or something as the silence grew longer. Then she looked up, grinning.
"Is funny. Didn't know I was a...beauty, though." He laughed and she set the book down on the pile with the others.
"Is it ok that I brought pizza?" he asked, indicating the box now lying open and oozing tantalizing aromas. "I... I've kinda been avoiding eating at home lately, y'know, since my dad's been so...well, you know." Cass didn't know, but she could see his good mood fading, so she tried to lighten it.
"As long as I can have some too." He smiled, good humor restored, and they dug in. Cass tried to get some plates, but Tim vetoed that idea, claiming pizza tasted better out of the box. He had also brought a couple of two-liters of Zesti, which he had pulled out of his bag. As they ate, neither said a word, yet the silence was companionable rather than tense, and Cass was surprised to realize that she actually missed this kind of human interaction.
The last slice of pizza lay alone in the box. Two empty bottles stood nearby. Suddenly a burst of laughter split the room. A flickering of light indicated that some sort of video system was in use, and, to an uninformed observer, it could look like a young couple enjoying a movie together. To a more informed audience, though, it would quickly become clear that everything was not what it seemed.
"The prince is giving a baaaall!" more laughter accompanied the musical outburst. Tim and Cassandra sat on the floor of her apartment watching a musical rendition of "Cinderella" Tim had snagged from his step-mom, Dana. He had come up with the idea earlier in the week and thought maybe encouragement and rewards could help Cass learn to read faster than other methods she had tried. So, knowing how little she had been exposed to any kind of culture as a child, he had found movies of many of the fairy-tale books she was trying to read.
"Stop! Stop!" Cass was laughing so hard the command came out as a screech, and Tim grinned at her, still not used to this more relaxed...more normal side of the girl. He paused the DVD to give her time to regain some control. She had never seen a musical before, he had discovered when he showed her the tape and explained his plan, and apparently the idea of people spontaneously bursting into song and dance was more than she could take.
After he had described his idea, the two of them had spent about an hour reading the short book-version of "Cinderella". Cass had started out slowly, with a lot of pauses and stutters, obviously self-conscious. But he had been patient and never interjected or tried to "help"... feeling that she would do better if she figured out each word on her own. And it had worked. By the end of the book she could say some of the shorter words without any hesitation at all, and very few mispronunciations. So, in reward, they had moved to the "living room" to watch Roger's and Hammerstein's "Cinderella".
"You ready yet?" he flashed her a half-smile as her laughter finally subsided.
"Ye..hehe..ahem." she cleared her throat. "Yes." He raised the remote to start the movie again when an insistent beeping cut through their merriment. Tim looked around, then pulled out a modified pager. He read the message, then grimaced.
"I'm sorry, Cass. I've gotta go." She nodded, glancing out the window, surprised at how late it had gotten. She was banned from patrol tonight, but it made sense that Robin would still fly. He packed up his bag and grabbed a trash sack to throw away their leavings. "I..." he glanced back at her, "This was fun." She nodded, sorry, for once, to be left alone.
"Yes. Thank you." He opened the door, then hesitated.
"We could... do it again sometime?" She smiled and held up the DVD case, indicating that he had forgotten the movie.
"You will have to come back... to get the movie." He grinned, then left without another word, waving as he went. Cass sighed. She looked back at the movie but didn't feel like watching it alone. Babs would be organizing patrols now, so she couldn't really... wait. She was banned from patrol, but that didn't mean Oracle wouldn't let her visit the clock tower. Humming absentmindedly to herself, she grabbed a coat and a little backpack...she refused to carry a purse...and walked out the door.
The night was a little chilly and, though she didn't really mind, she moved quickly towards her destination. All would have been fine if she hadn't heard the crash in an alley a few blocks short of the clock tower. She hesitated, knowing that she wasn't supposed to be active tonight, but when another crash was followed by a hoarse cry she instinctively vaulted into action. She tugged a wad of black fabric out of her backpack, dropping the pack behind a dumpster as she ran, and pulled on her cape and cowl. She didn't have the rest of her costume, but she hoped the dark clothes she favored would blend in enough to make her transformation mostly complete.
"NO!" the same voice, and she slowed her pace, moving towards her prey with the silence of a jungle cat. The night wasn't too dark, yet in the shadows of the skyscrapers there were pools of darkness that seemed to swallow all light. Batgirl heard a scuffle and some grunts up ahead, and she peered around the corner of the building. There, illuminated only in brief spurts as the struggle brought them under the light of a single street lamp a few times, were three men attacking a fourth. Batgirl watched their movements, seeking any indication of the cause of the fight, but all she could come up with was that three against one wasn't fair. In this case, not fair to their victim...were she the one against the three it would be unfair to the attackers.
She grinned beneath her mask at the thought and leapt into the fray. Fists flew, flesh struck flesh, and bones crunched. In a matter of seconds she was done and tying up the three assailants. The fourth young man, well dressed and not someone who should normally be in this part of town at night, had fallen to his knees to one side of the scuffle and clutched his ribs. Batgirl approached, annoyed when he showed his terror of her, but he was too weak to resist. She pulled his hand away and saw the red seeping from a knife wound on his side. It should have been deflected from any vital organs by his ribs, but the loss of blood could be equally deadly. She tore a strip off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the man's midsection, binding the wound.
It wasn't difficult for Batgirl to carry the injured man a few blocks to the hospital, but by the time they arrived her head was throbbing again. She took a few moments to sit on the roof of the medical building, catching her breath and holding her head in her hands. Man. She hated it when Bruce was right. But no, she had to correct her silent statement...she hated it when she and Batman disagreed and he was right...usually they agreed, so she would be pretty silly to hate it when he was right then. Apparently Joker's potion was stronger than anyone had realized, though she shouldn't have been surprised; it had made her sleep for awhole day, after all! But now a trip to see Oracle was out of the question. Babs would be able to tell immediately that she hadn't obeyed Batman and had gone out as Batgirl.
She descended to street level slowly, discovering that the quick changes in altitude irritated her head, and removed the cape and cowl. Wadding the fabric up, she was able to retrace her steps, retrieve her bag, which was, miraculously, still where she left it, and return to her apartment. She considered briefly the last piece of pizza, still in the box on the counter, but any thought of food made her queasy. She stumbled over to the bed, not even taking time to undress, and sank gratefully into a deep sleep.
To be continued...
