maskormenace | (no subject)

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[ 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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I'm sorry.

[ Just those two words, but his expression shows just how much the loss of the Batgirls means, and how sorry he is to hear they've left a world where they could just be themselves. ]

[ Harley’s not going to mention Lucy to Barbara Freaking Gordon (and least not yet and without a significant amount of tequila in her system). But the words she’s my daughter are enough to make Harley delete her knee jerk reaction of they ain’t dead before sending it. And to at least attempt something that might sound vaguely sympathetic. ]

Wanna go get blitzed? I’m buying.

[ Joker shouldn't be reaching out to her. For at least fifteen different and very good reasons, not least of which is that he's just had an up-close-and-personal look at the absolute shitshow his life turns into when he lets himself actually start to care about anyone.

But that hitch in her voice...

He doesn't allow himself to think of his own daughters, both lost to him now. He doesn't allow himself to think of Harley, either, or what happened with Kirk, or the little house by the sea. He focuses all of his attention instead on Barbara, who was inexplicably there for him when he needed someone. Who is, without question, one of the strongest people he knows.

He'll just talk to her for a minute, he decides. Just a minute, to make sure she's all right. ]

Barbara. [ There's no bullshit in his tone. Nothing but a guarded kind of concern in his eyes. ] How are you holding up?

[ She makes a quick face almost like a wince. She may not have had the chance to see them here, and hasn't been here long yet at all, but she can already tell that this is the kind of place that could use more people in their general sphere. ]

I'm sorry. That's..rough.

[ Which seems like an understatement. But it's all she can say, really, despite saying it sincerely. ]

You going to be okay?

[ Maybe not now. Obviously not now. But, eventually. ]

[What was it Bruce encouraged him to do? Emphasise.

It's a skill he owns. Albeit one practised with the idea of going through the motions.]

You know the bar is always open.

[He doesn't have to be there. She doesn't have to talk. His expression is passive; he's not in tune with her predicament but he understands losing someone close. His Batman has long since gone home.]

Damn. I was hoping I would have a chance to reconnect with them.

[ He sighs. ]

I am sorry, Barbara.

... I'm sorry for your loss. Both of them.

[ exPorts are always hard. They're hard to endure, and they're hard to watch, the way the loss so messily leaves these hollow spaces. It's no use to make offers; to say you'll see them again, when you go or they could come back. There's no finality. Loss like this is a grief that everyone carries with them, for as long as they exist in this world.

It's nothing that can be said. ]

I didn't know Stephanie, but Cassandra was... [ It feels too presumptuous to call her friend. ] ... someone I wanted to know better. We only talked a little, but I liked her.

... Nothing will make this easy, but... if there's anything you need. Just say the word.

[Well... crap. There's not a right thing to say there--there wasn't a right thing to say to him when Dick vanished either. But this is Barbara, so he can't just pretend that he doesn't see it and ignore that feelings are happening.]

...I'm sorry. That sucks. They seemed really great.

I'm sorry. It sucks. It always sucks. And if it means anything... Cass got sent home once already and came back, like, a year later. It happens like that sometimes. There's always hope.

[ He was there the whole time, of course. He always is. ]

At least you'll get to see her when you go back home again.

[ Selina has kept her distance from the assorted Batfamily in recent months. It's strange to be around all these people she knows but doesn't quite know, whose histories don't quite align with hers, and Bruce doesn't even remember her, so what's the point of pretending she fits in with the rest of them? They were never her people.

... but a lot has happened lately and a lot of people have gone missing recently, and it sparks something in her to check in. Freckles has always been the easier one to talk to here. ]

I'd say that I'm sorry for you loss, but it sounds a little... you know. Like someone died.

I am, though. Sorry.

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