{the roguish spoiler}

-We play with childhood-

When she was very small her mother had died. It was lung cancer, and there had been no money for treatment. She was left in her father's care twenty four-seven, and as unhappy as he was about it, he did take on responsibility. He taught her how to swipe things from stores without getting caught, taught her to be quiet and be sweet, and always use the perception people had of her against them. He taught her how to pick pockets, and cry on a whim.

And then he began to take her out into the field with him.

"Daddy," she said, feeling awkward and stupid in the bandana he had given her. She was ten, and she had thought a lot about this. When she stole things, she felt very little remorse. But only because she knew, for the most part, that they would be things that would not be missed— they were things that they needed. But this? It seemed wrong. "Daddy, maybe… well, shouldn't we… be careful?" She bounced on the balls of her feet as she watched her father work. He wasn't a bad thief by any means. Just stupid. He's so stupid, and he never listens. "What if the Batman catches us?"

Her father scoffed. "Quit your squalling," he spat, smacking her over the head. She grunted, stumbling a little as she watched her father lower himself into a window. They were robbing a bank. And she still wasn't sure why. "And stay here, ya hear me? You have the clue."

Of course. The stupid clue. Stephanie scowled at him as he disappeared. Her life was a series of tricks and lies, and she was there to take and take and never give back. It made her sad a lot, because she knew that she was being used for her young, innocent face, and it was easier for her to get money by pity. She knew her father constantly used her, and yet she had trouble breaking away from him. After all, didn't he love her? She thought he did, but sometimes she wondered if she was wrong. She watched the window, and she looked down at the clue.

She tore apart the piece of paper, and tossed it over the fire escape. When her father asked about the clue, she said she lost it, and he smacked her so hard blood trickled down the corner of her lip. After that, he stopped trusting her with the clues. And Stephanie was left to help him more, little by little, and soon she was inside the banks with him, and they were actually doing it, actually stealing. And they were good at it. The more she worked with him, the more they got. She was shocked and terrified at how competent they were.

And then she realized.

It's me, she thought one night, fourteen and nimble fingered. Her father had left her to do the stealing, to crack the safe and steal the money. She'd opened the safe within a few minutes. She stared into it, and looked back, her eyes wide. I'm better than him. I'm a lot better than him. And she was proud! She couldn't help it. There were a thousand ways that this could all go wrong, and yet, she knew how to do it right. It felt like a second nature. And she was thrilled, shot through with adrenaline as she gathered the money in a bag, and she split. She'd gotten through the security of the bank no problem, and getting out was easier than getting in.

She tossed the strap over her shoulder, climbing up onto the roof. Her suit was orange like her father's but darker, and styled with a flaring black skirt, because she'd been mistaken for a boy when she'd been younger. Her suspenders were black too, and they buckled into her belt, which was silver and studded with various compartments.

Stephanie stopped to watch her father duke it out with Batman. She stared in awe. He was so much bigger than she expected him to be, a looming figure that was a blur of shadow and wisps, and her eyes grew big as she watched the fight go on. Dad's not very good, she observed, folding her arms across her chest and cocking her head. Batman was really dealing the blows, and her father was losing. She felt a little guilty that she wasn't more concerned.

Her father caught sight of her. "Kid!" he snarled, knocked to the ground, and rolling back, bolting to his feet. "Kid, get over here!"

She sighed, jumping up onto the roof. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered. She wondered what her dad had even done to get caught so quickly. Who's the rookie, me or you? "Yes, daddy?" she asked sweetly, poking her head out from behind Batman. She froze in fear as the masked man spared her a glance.

She gasped as a leg slammed into hers, knocking her onto her back. She gasped, blinking rapidly. The backpack with the money had cushioned her fall, but barely. "Um," she gasped, staring into the laughing face of a masked boy. Boy Wonder, she thought excitedly. Oh, this is so cool! "Ow!"

"Well," Blue Jay said, his masked eyes wide as he bent over her. He didn't look much older than her, but there was something hard about his face that she just couldn't quite grasp. "Guess I swept you off your feet, huh?"

She kicked him hard, and he flipped away, looking surprised as she jumped to her feet and whirled away. "Lame!" she called back. "So lame!"

"Says a girl called Kid Clue!" he retorted. Stephanie found herself flushing. I know, she thought glumly. Her dad was pretty bad with the name thing. And the costume thing. And the everything thing.

"Kid!" her dad screamed again. She groaned, and she dug around her belt, and she pulled out a pellet. She moved to throw it, but then she paused. Batman will just dodge it, she thought. So she bit her lip, and flung herself between Batman and her father. The Dark Knight glowered at her, and she watched his feet move. Work, work, work, she prayed, tossing the pellet. She squeaked in surprise as he stepped on it, and immediately backtracked, feeling his error. But by then, his foot was already caught in polyurethane foam.

"Oh my god," Blue Jay spluttered, sounding as though he was on the brink of laughter.

Stephanie shrieked as a batarang whizzed past her, slicing through her father's shoulder. She couldn't even look at Batman, she was so scared, and she whipped around, grabbing her father's hand and bolting. They ran faster than Steph had ever ran before, and she was exhilarated, and she was amazed, and she was proud. She'd done that!

It wasn't until they got home that Steph realized her backpack was gone. "I…" she said faintly, touching her bare shoulder. The batarang. It must have sliced through the strap, and she hadn't noticed. "Daddy, I had it!"

"And you let the goddamn Bat take it from you!" Arthur Brown punched her so hard, she was flung backwards into a picture frame. It fell from its hook, and shattered, and Stephanie felt tears in her eyes. If mom was here, would this be any different, she wondered, looking down at the woman's face. To be honest, she couldn't even remember what her voice sounded like. The woman in the picture was a complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she gasped, fighting the tears. "But if it wasn't for me, you'd be on your way to jail! This isn't my fault, dad. It's yours!"

That remark had given her a black eye, a bloody nose, and a broken wrist. She'd been locked in her room for an entire day without food, or even the chance to wipe up the blood. Her wrist was throbbing, and she sat on her bedroom floor, devising a makeshift splint from tape and a broken yard stick she had stashed at the back of her closet.

Next time, she thought. Next time I'm not going to save him.

And true enough, seven months later, the Bat was back. And he was angry. Stephanie knew why. They all knew why. Gotham was buzzing with the news, and she felt sick by how animated everyone seemed over the fact. Blue Jay was dead, and they were acting like it was all a party! Her dad had even had friends over, other low profile rogues, to drink over it. Gotham is just one big party, she thought, peering at them from the darkness of the hallway. They were all loud, laughing, stinking drunk. Especially when someone dies.

Stephanie wished she could speak to the Bat. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, and that she knew that the little bird of Gotham had deserved more than this debacle he was receiving. It wasn't fair. But then, what was? If truth be told, her death would go unnoticed by the majority of Gotham. She had an awful, stinging feeling that she'd just be another obscure face in the crowd of Gothamites that passed in the night. And no one would care to remember her.

It went as it usually went nowadays. Stephanie did the dirty work, albeit, not without a few snags. She was only fifteen, and she was hopeless with technology at times. Luckily she didn't set off the alarm— that would have been bad. When she did manage to shut down the security, she breathed in relief.

"Woohoo," she whispered, smiling triumphantly to herself. "Go Steph."

She got the money. She double strapped the bag now, after the last incident with Batman. Everything seemed to be going fine. She was even thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow, Friday night. A boy had asked her out, but she still wasn't sure… Steph, focus! She had to remind herself, or else she'd take too much time getting out, and the security would come back on.

By the time she got outside, she had to quickly hide herself. She watched her dad spit curses at Batman as he handcuffed him to a bike rack outside the bank. She hid above, her belly flat against the fire escape, and her eyes were wide as she strained to listen.

"Where's your daughter, Cluemaster?" Batman growled, yanking down her father's bandana. That sight gave her satisfaction. Batman looked up, and Steph slid back, her breath quickening as her eyes flashed around her. What if he'd seen her?

"I don't know," her father spat. "The little bitch could be halfway to California by now, for all I know!"

Batman's eyes flashed dangerously. "Would she leave you?" Batman asked, his voice dark, shaking in rage. "What a daughter. What kind of child leaves their parent?" He sounded so angry, Stephanie was shaking in fear. But he's not in any danger, she thought. She still wanted to talk to Batman, to beg him to take her away, but she knew that would just be to the police. No, she had no place with him. She had no place anywhere.

"Bastard," snarled Arthur Brown. "Just because your kid up and died, that ain't my fault. The Joker—" Stephanie muffled a gasp as she watched Batman slug her father so hard, he spat a tooth out, gasping and coughing.

"You," Batman hissed, his voice so low, Stephanie could barely hear it, "are a horrible person. But you're an even worse father."

Stephanie felt a rush of warmth. Because Batman understood. And for that, Stephanie couldn't help but love him a little. He left without checking the fire escape, and for that she loved him even more. She waited, and then climbed down, dropping behind her father as she heard sirens wail in the distance. She saw him working on picking the lock, but she knew he wouldn't get it in time.

The thought made her oddly giddy.

She untied the bandana around her mouth, and she clutched it tightly in her hand. Her heart was pounding, and so was her head, and she had ten grand in her backpack. And she felt like she could do anything. Hope was bubbling in her stomach, and she stepped up behind her father, too quiet for him to hear her. And she cocked her head.

"He's right, you know," she said. He jumped, twisting to look at her. She scowled at how relieved he looked. And she almost wanted to help him.

"Oh, there you are, baby girl," he breathed. "Help your daddy out, will you?"

"No."

The look in his eyes solidified her choice. He looked at her, and his eyes were so hard and unforgiving, she wanted to slap him. "What did you just say?" he growled.

She took a deep breath, and she flung the bandana at him. It hit his face, and fell into his lap. His eyes flashed wide with rage. "No," she repeated, feeling a little dead on the inside. "He was right. You're a horrible father. And I don't need you."

"You don't mean that," he hissed, his eyes narrowing. And she smiled. She swooped down, and kissed his cheek, spinning away before he could grab her.

"Bye, daddy!" she cried, waving at him as the sirens wailed. She disappeared into the night, just missing the cop cars pulling up to seize her father.


Note: Steph, pls. So I kind of took some shit into my own hands here, but it's an AU, so who cares. Steph is still a sweetie any way you spin it.

Short introduction, and I apologize for not being more thorough. Cred to Victor Hugo, and shit.