#the comics: Bruce sucks at communicating his feelings clearly but he loves you he cares about you and he is proud of you Cass

[littlefankingdom]

The idea that goes around that Bruce saw Cass as a soldier in Batgirl (2000) makes no sense because he shows multiple times that he cares deeply about her. Did y'all forget all the fucking dialogues in the comics showing just that? Did you miss Bruce going through his usual "OMG I'm a terrible father I don't deserve to be in her life, I only bring her misery!" thinking? Like, he's clearly not helping her having a normal life, he is teaching her to be like him, to be dedicated body and soul to the mission, and it's not great, but it's not seeing her as a soldier, more like a second mini him. The most hurtful thing he did to Cass, in Cass' eyes, was trying to give her a normal life and stop her from being Batgirl, which Barbara agreed on. Like, can we stop saying Bruce views his kids as soldiers because he trains them, has expectations for them to be good people and let them fight crimes, while having difficulties with his emotions and communications? The principle of a soldier is that they are meant to be easily replaceable, but he cares about his kids, and they want to be doing this shit! They hate when he tries to make them have a normal life because he is scared they are hurting!

"I thought Cassandra was just like me."

"Maybe being Batgirl is doing her more harm than good. She grew up surrounded by violence and brutality. And all I've done is to surround her with violence again."

"He just wants you [...] to be happy."

"He's worried that being Batgirl is bad for you... That the constant exposure to violence and evil was preventing you from healing the emotional harm you suffered as a child."

"He just worries about you, my dear. He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"I know for a fact that Master Bruce is immeasurably proud of you-- and grateful for all that you've done."

[renaroo]

Promises (7/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: Alright, so I took something of a sabbatical for the last week and a half. For those who aren’t familiar, there’s a convention in Austin, Texas called RTX for fans of Rooster Teeth productions, and I was blessed with the chance to go and reunite and meet for the first time so many of my friends. I think it’s given me more than enough time to recoup and get back to working on everything I can get my hands on~

Special thanks to @chimerakitten, @secretlystephaniebrown, Onceuponymous, XaoOfTheMists, KiwiBat, FanOfYourWork, and Kiyomisa on tumblr, ffnet, and AO3 for the feedback and suppot!

Picking Up the Pieces

If Tim hadn’t been there himself, he might not have believed that it had happened. His bag was setting next to him on the floor, ready to go, when he watched Cassandra tear off up the stairs and out of sight.

He had seen Cass through some low spots — Blüdhaven had been a low spot for both of them — but he had never seen such a cruel look in her eyes as the one of betrayal and disgust she threw their way once it was clear she was not invited on their excursion.

Tim’s insides twisted mercilessly at the realization that, before that moment, it hadn’t really crossed his mind whether or not Bruce intended to bring Cass along with them.

Despite being a team, it had always felt like Cass had done her own thing, so far and away from the rest of them.

Except, of course, when they had looked out for each other at Blüdhaven. Which made the guilty twisting of Tim’s insides all the worse.

He looked desperately toward Bruce. “We’re not actually going to leave her, are we?” he asked worriedly.

“If this is something to get all of us back to form, it would make sense to let Cassie come along, Bruce,” Dick said in an even more reasonable tone.

“No, she’s not coming,” Bruce said decisively.

Amazed at Bruce’s brutally blunt delivery, Tim let his jaw hang for a bit while Alfred cleared his throat to get Bruce’s attention once more.

“Sir, even beyond your reasoning for leaving behind Miss Cassandra — if indeed there is reasoning — you still have not explained to myself or her just what destinations your trip happens to entail,” Alfred reminded him sternly, almost angrily. At least, for Alfred by Tim’s estimates.

Bruce’s scowl was set, his singular protective shield from the butler’s scrutiny. “Not all of the destinations have been decided yet, Alfred.”

“And those that have?” Alfred demanded.

Silence met the question for an agonizingly long twenty seconds. Tim could not help but count them purely from how awkward it made him feel.

Getting the hing, Alfred took a deep breath and held up his hands. “I am afraid that this is once more somewhere I should firmly put my foot down. But seeing as how you cannot be so kind as to tell me where to place it, I will move on to more important matters. Matters like attending to a young woman who may not know it yet, but absolutely deserves a cup of tea.”

“Alfred,” Dick called out as the butler turned and marched off in the direction of the kitchen.

The former Robin’s upset was clear on his face, even as he looked back worriedly toward Bruce. There wasn’t the clear anger and frustration that Tim was almost expecting from Dick. He just looked like he needed answers.

Maybe for so many different questions even Dick didn’t have the words to start.

“Please say it’s true that you need Cass here to look after Gotham,” Tim begged before the silence could carry on as it had with Alfred.

Bruce’s sharp eyes shifted to him almost instantly, but he didn’t speak.

“Bruce, Cass… She’s not like the rest of us. She needs Batgirl, and to protect Gotham, and… she just lost everything she was only starting to build before,” Tim tried to explain. His hands motioned slightly with his rambling but once he caught how little impact his words were having, he grew subconscious of it and dropped his arms to his sides.

“That’s why,” Bruce answered. “Who are you, Tim?”

Caught off guard, both Tim and Dick ended up looking at each other.

“I don’t understand,” Tim responded.

“Since Superboy’s funeral, don’t think I haven’t noticed how neither of you have been asking to patrol,” he continued, as if the point was made in that simple fact.

“I physically can’t at the moment, Bruce,” Dick reminded him. “Yours and Leslie’s orders, as I remember it.”

“But that has never stopped either of you before,” Bruce pointed out sharply.

Dick’s face made it clear that he wanted to disagree more, but he held back. A sour look developed instead which, for Tim, did feel very much unlike the Dick Grayson he knew.

“It is not an indictment,” Bruce clarified. “I have found my aspirations as Batman in question these past weeks as well. I no longer can clearly see the mission in the midst of my many mistakes.”

A ping of pain hit Tim in the chest at that point. The mistakes. Like Brother Eye. Like all that led to Superboy Prime. To the things that almost destroyed all of reality as they knew it and ripped so many good, courageous heroes from them right in their primes.

The anger and blame that the community held for them all in response.

“The three of us are on the same path. We need the same healing,” Bruce continued finally. “What Cassandra needs is… something else. Something she will get in Gotham.”

Dick looked suspiciously at Bruce, putting his good hand on his hip. “Let me guess, you’ve made plans for that to happen for her? And you just couldn’t bare to share with her or us any more than you could share this trip before springing it on us?”

“I’m doing what will be right for everyone, Dick,” Bruce argued back stiffly.

Having heard enough, Tim clenched his fists and headed toward the stairs. “You’re right, Bruce. You always do what’s right for everyone.”

The sudden outburst didn’t seem to surprise Bruce, but deep down Tim was certain that it did.

“Where are you going, Tim?” Bruce asked sternly. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour—“

“I need to grab some other things, I’m sure you can wait,” Tim snapped, unable to keep the sourness from his voice.

Neither Bruce nor Dick attempted to stop him after that. And Tim had a feeling it was because their own anger at each other in the disagreement was bound to only grow after dear impressionable Tim wasn’t around anymore to get affected by it.

He didn’t care. He really did have something he had to do.

He knocked even though the door was open. It was the polite thing to do, or so he’d been told.

Cassandra was sitting on the window seat, legs pulled up, arms crossed over her knees, and face buried within the nook of her elbows so that all Tim could really see from her was the jet black hair reflecting the beams of sunrise hitting them.

When she didn’t move, Tim took the initiative and stepped into the unpersonalized yet still very Cassandra room. “This whole thing sucks,” he said to her sorrowfully. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m… I’m sorry it’s going on this way.”

For a moment, it didn’t look like Cass was going to react to his words at all, if she was even awake, but then, slowly, she withdrew more into herself, hiding in her suit as much as possible even without her mask on.

She wasn’t crying, though. Her shoulders did not heave, she was not breathing hard.

It reminded Tim of the night of the funeral. And that alone made him feel knotted up inside.

“Bruce still doesn’t know,” he tried to explain his rationale for bothering her after how horribly everything went on downstairs. “Cass, I didn’t tell him anything. So he doesn’t know about… about…” he lowered his voice and walked more toward her, just in case. “He doesn’t know about the Lazarus Pit from me. He doesn’t know that… that you’re numb. Or how you feel about… everything. I’m sure he knows something’s up. He has to. He’s… Well, he’s the world’s greatest detective. But he’s got. A blindspot. A few of them. And I think you’ve always been in his blindspot in some way. He doesn’t… he doesn’t always like to accept that you’re not…”

Trailing off, Tim rubbed at his neck. He was getting nothing from Cass and he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to or not, given the circumstances. She was hurt and he was part of the problem. He just couldn’t stand the thought of not fixing some things before they all got up and left.

“Not?” Cass said hoarsely.

Tim looked up and met Cass’ dark eyes. He had been wrong about her not having tears, even if the rest of her face was blank.

“I’m not…?” she urged.

Feeling even more awkward and on the spot, Tim shifted slightly and coughed into his fist. “Well… Bruce sometimes just… I think he doesn’t always accept that you’re not… really perfect. That you can have mistakes or make them now or that you aren’t one hundred percent okay even if you run yourself into the ground working too hard. He just has to think you’re… okay.”

Cassandra squinted at him, roughly rubbing her tears away in one swipe of her gauntlet. “I’m… not perfect?” she clarified.

“Uh, no. I mean. You’re close. No, I don’t mean that. Not that—“ Tim face palmed and took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Cass, what I mean is that no one’s perfect. We’re human. That’s… part of life. I mean, you know that more than anyone—“

“I make… too many mistakes?” she asked almost angrily.

“No! I mean, you know more than anyone that everyone deserves a second chance,” he explained. “You know that life only means something if we’re allowed to work through our mistakes and make up for them. Right?”

She blinked at him before a broken little smile formed on her face. “You… learned that from… me?”

“Still trying to learn it,” Tim admitted. “But I see it because of you. Which is why I know that if you just explained to Bruce what’s going on with you right now, he’d understand why you need to go with us—“

“No,” Cass said firmly.

“What?” Tim asked with a blink.

“I’m staying. Here. In Gotham,” she said poking her finger out at the window. “Gotham… needs a Batman. Bruce is right.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Tim exhaled sharply through his nose. Well… you keep saying that…”

“Because it’s true,” she stated.

“He’s human, too, Cass, but look, I don’t want to fight with you over him and methodology again,” Tim said, shaking his head. “We got into it more than enough when we were working in Blüdhaven. Let’s not revisit it.”

Cass’ all-seeing eyes were firmly on him, however. “You. You’re still mad at him,” she assessed.

“Yeah,” Tim admitted almost subconsciously. “I mean… yes, I am. But.” He looked down to his hands, closed his eyes and pretended he could still feel the debris he had lifted on that first night he wore the suit. “I think it’s my job to be mad at him sometimes. To be frustrated with what he does and how he does it.”

“It’s a stupid job,” Cass said flatly.

“Ha, well, there’s no one who knows that more than me, you can guarantee that,” Tim answered with a deep sigh. “But I get the hero worship, I get the inability to see when he’s wrong because that used to be me with Bruce, and with Dick. And with Barbara. I just had to grow up myself, see everyone around me as being imperfect and really understand what that meant. What it meant for all of us.”

There was still a lack of understanding in Cass’ eyes. She peered into Tim like he was a book written in esperanto. “You loved them less?” she asked. “Because of… mistakes… of… being human?”

“No,” Tim answered almost too quickly. He shook his head for good measure. “No. I… I love them so much more. Because I know when they make mistakes… it’s just because that’s what we all do at the end of the day. Because that’s what makes them human.” He looked at Cass curiously. “How, after everything, is that not how you see the world, too? I mean… Barbara told me about how you’re making them rehabilitate Lady Shiva. If they can. And you don’t…”

“I think that,” Cass corrected, hugging her knees. “I… know that. I see that… but…” She looked back at Tim. “I see you. I see…Shiva. And I see… people.” She lowered her head, chin barely above her knees. “But… I don’t see… me. And other people, you and others… No one sees like me. No one but Shiva. No one but Cain. And they never saw me… human.”

Tim’s eyes widened with understanding. “Cass…”

“There is… a little voice inside your head… who tells you that you can be good… that you can be smart… that you can be… worthy,” Cass continued. “Sometimes it is… very quiet. But now… I don’t hear it at all.”

He looked at her intently. “I think you should tell someone this, Cass,” he urged. “I think… I think you might be… depressed… or the Lazarus Pit… I mean, haven’t you felt this before? Is it like anything else?”

Cass stared off, eyes overcast with an emotion unclear to Tim just yet. “Losing Steph,” she answered. “And Brenda. And… yes. But now it’s been longer. And I have tried very hard to make people… happy with me. But. I don’t think it will ever work now.”

Tim felt a lump in his chest and he approached Cass even closer. “Can… Is there anything I can do?” he asked her very softly.

“Yes,” Cass answered before looking back at him with a very small but still wry smile. There were tears carefully held back in her eyes. “What… you’re doing. Right now. Thank you,” she answered.

Once again that week, Tim had no idea what was the right response exactly, but he caved to his first emotional drive. And he hugged Cass so tight he might have bruised another person.

“Cass?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she answered.

“About your scars… you being worried about them being gone,” he continued. “I was thinking… you know chalkboards? Like what people write on?”

“No,” she answered quickly but curiously.

“Well… they’re these boars and they have… words or drawings — whatever people want on them written in chalk,” he explained, poorly. “But the thing about chalkboards is that sometimes if you write too much on them, you run out of room and you have to turn the board over, to the clean side without any marks on it. Then you can start writing something new.”

Holding Tim back slightly, Cassandra squinted at him. “Why…?”

“Because maybe you shouldn’t think of it like you lost your scars, just that you’re starting new, the board’s clean, everything is still there, they still happened, you just don’t need them around anymore to remember them by,” Tim explained. “So… you know, don’t be too torn up about it. Or something, I’m mumbling,” he laughed awkwardly before rubbing his eyes.

“A second chance,” Cass clarified.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Tim responded, looking at her. “Does… does that help?”

“You help, Tim,” she smiled at last. “Like always.”

By the time Tim was making his way out of the Manor, Bruce had apparently already loaded the Mercedes they were taking and had it running in the drive. He was sitting with his sunglasses on despite the fact that the sun had only barely begun to rise in Gotham. The entire scenario was almost too surreal for Tim to take as real. But it was the life he had chosen to enter what seemed like years and years ago.

Dick was pretending to be a bit more civil in the matter, sitting back against the door of the passenger side and waiting with eyes trained on the door. The moment he saw Tim approaching, he uncrossed his ankles and straightened up his own jacket.

“Hey, did you get what you needed?” Dick asked, trying for almost too casual given the circumstances.

“Not really,” Tim answered, tightening his grip on the drawstring bag he had pulled over his shoulder mostly for show. There were only a few spare items he quickly grabbed from his room and none of them were necessities. “Got enough.”

There was a look of understanding in Dick’s eyes as he nodded his head. It was more compassion and understanding in a gesture than Tim would have been able to manage with years of practice. “It’ll work out, no matter what you remembered or forgot,” he assured Tim, walking with Tim around the car as if to get in the back with him.

If Bruce cared about the gesture he didn’t let it show at all.

“If you say so,” Tim said back lowly. He paused once again and bit his lip. He studied Dick rigorously before the older vigilante could get around to looking back at him. “Dick, are you bringing your suit?”

“Yeah,” Dick said reflexively. “Aren’t you? I mean… what else could this be about?”

Tim frowned. He wasn’t sure if there was even an answer to that question. He tugged on his bag’s drawstrings. “Bruce isn’t. I know all the ways he packs for equipment and it’s… none of it is coming with us. It’s weird. How can I bring the Robin suit if… I mean what else is this about if it’s not…”

He could not finish any of the questions as the mere idea if them not having answers was enough to send a chill through to Tim’s very core.

“I… well. I mean, we can’t get too ahead of ourselves,” Dick assured him. “Besides, if it’s not about what we are with the suits, it’s still about what we are without them. And that’s the sort of thing that actually matters.”

Taking a deep breath, Tim opened his car door and slid on in. There was no good way to break it to Dick that he was not so sure what any of them were to each other without the suits anymore. Not as long as Bruce was in whatever funk was making him act the way he was. And that was simply the end of that.