maskormenace | (no subject)

[ Trying to process the memories of a different life was difficult enough. She figured seeking out the people she'd lost there, one way or another, would help anchor her to the present, the truth of who she really was.

Instead, she's here on the network, face drawn and voice flat. She's years younger than her counterpart, and her hair is longer, but the look in her eyes right now isn't that different. ]

Cassandra Wayne and Stephanie Brown have gone home.

[ It's easier to say than disappeared, even if it's all much the same, at least for her. Cass is going back to a world where she's alone, drowning in grief and trauma and guilt. Stephanie, at least, has a version of Barbara who's there for her.

But when she's pulled back home herself, she'll forget that. She'll just believe that Stephanie died because she hadn't been looking. ]

If you were close with them, then - let me know what you need. Stephanie was - is - a friend. A protege. [ Family, but she can't explain that without giving away too much - for Stephanie's sake, if nothing else. Her own identity has been pretty badly compromised by whatever the hell that trip really was.

She takes a steadying breath. She needs to say this, needs to get it out. She can't let herself bury it, like that other Barbara did. ]

When I first met Cassandra, she didn't have a name. She didn't have anything, really, aside from a drive to help people. [ And in that other world, that drive was poisoned and warped. She was a weapon again.

Out of sight,, her fists clench, and it takes her a moment to shove down desperate rage. Whether it was just an illusion or another life they'd inhabited for a while, there's nothing she can do about it right now. ]

I gave her a first name. Bruce gave her a second. He's very much her father, but she's also...

[ Her voice catches, and her eyes sting. She hasn't really said it, not in so many words, not when she was herself. ]

She's my daughter.

And she's gone.

[ She ends the transmission. ]

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[ He's not sure if she's putting him off or angling to see him in person. Certainly she has a point — the network isn't the right place for this sort of conversation, no matter how many security measures they've both put in place — but there are also ways to answer without giving too much away to spying eyes. So if she's choosing instead to give him nothing, then what's her real goal here? To get him away from her, or to bring him closer?

He nods slowly, considering both possibilities. ] A valid concern.

[ This, he thinks, is when he's supposed to invite her over. Or ask if he can come and see her, perhaps, so that they can have this conversation on her turf, where she'll feel safer. He should put the offer out there, then see what she does with it.

But he's in no emotional state to see her at the moment; she'd see through him in a heartbeat. Could he live with himself if he let his walls down with her right now, when he has no ghosts or kryptonite or anything else to blame? No, no. If he did that, why, he'd be no better than George.

Still. It would be so easy to ask... And he'd feel better in an instant if she were here with him; he's certain he would.

The intensity with which he wants to see her convinces him that he must absolutely refrain. He's not ready for that. He needs a little more time. ]

Well. Perhaps one day soon you'll come down and show me your wishlist.

Who knows? I might be able to help.

[ He's thrown the ball back into her court, and her shoulders ease a bit.

She needs time, too. Time to separate herself from the Oracle she could have been; time to mourn the rebuilt connections with Cass and Steph; time to soothe all of the desperate rage flaring in the pit of her stomach.

Time to further weaponise her chair and build herself some subtle body armour, just in case. ]

I'll drop by. [ She can't invite him here, put her house mates in the potential blast radius. ]

...Funny thing is, the Resistance could have used you.

[ He catches that change in her posture, the subtle relaxing of her shoulders. But he can't tell for certain what she's relieved about. Maybe she's glad that he's allowed her to be in the driver's seat for a moment, or that she won't have to face him until she feels like it. Maybe she's just grateful that he's not going to push her to talk more about any of this right now, on the network, at a time when she's grieving. He's learning to read her, as he learned to read Bats, but it will take time to get the details right.

The important thing for now, he reminds himself, is that she agreed to come by. That's one question answered, at least.

He sees no reason to tell her about his own political activities back in that other world. If Lucy and Ronnie and George are still out there somewhere, he's not about to divulge their secrets to the woman who considered killing them. Even if she's not the same woman, not really. Some things just aren't worth risking anymore, and that thought in and of itself makes him uneasy.

Instead, he offers her only a small, polite smile, of the sort that says, We'll see. ]

I'll look forward to seeing you, then. Stop by whenever you like. [ Then, more gently: ] And Barbara... I truly am sorry for your loss.

[ Cliché though it is, he really does mean it. And now that he knows she's seen both the families he lost, he trusts that she'll know that he means it. This, too, is troubling, but he'll worry about that later.

Then, before he can say or do anything stupid that will show her any more of his hand, Joker ends the call.

He has a lot to take care of before she arrives. ]

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