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galaxymagitech · 1 month ago

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Witch Hunt

Written for @casscainweek Day 6 - Past | Future

I considered letting this fade into obscurity, but I mentioned my attempts to write kissing on this blog, so I figured I should share the result.

Summary: Ever since Bruce left on a voyage back to Europe and Bane stepped in as governor, things have been tough. But now that the mysterious Red Hood has arrived in town, Cass knows that it will only get worse. AKA my attempt at an AU with vaguely 1690s New England vibes. Historical accuracy not included.

Characters: Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Joker, Bane, cameos of other Batfamily members

Relationship: Cassandra Cain/Stephanie Brown

Warnings: Minor sexism and homophobia, canon-typical violence, kissing

You can read it here or on AO3!

Claire Clover is Gotham Girl's civilian name, and Red Hood/Jester refers to the Joker (Joker as a card was not a concept that existed in the 1690s).

They dress in the dark. Cassandra stands inches away from Steph as she buttons her lover’s waistcoat, feels the rise and fall of Steph’s chest beneath her hands, the warmth of Steph’s breath on her lips. But she can’t see the smile that she knows has placed itself on Steph’s face, and for that, she’s grateful.

“I think this is a good thing,” Steph says, smoothing out the coarse fabric that rests on Cass’s shoulders. “Ever since Bruce and the others left…”

Cass steps back, turning away from Steph. She pulls her hair—shorter than any of the other women’s hair—up into a bun. Before Bruce left, before Bane stepped in as governor, Cass would wear her hair down, weaving in bright flowers, while Steph would tie her blonde curls back with pretty purple ribbons. In the Old World, this would be unheard of, but here in Gotham, the rules were different. Under Bane, though, they wear coifs and hats, hiding their hair like it’s shameful.

“You haven’t seen more than a glimpse of the Red Hood,” Steph says. “Perhaps you should give him a chance.”

But Cass does not need more than a glimpse to know that this man is no savior. His promises of a better future for their town, of a solution that will please the Almighty, of an end to the brutal storms and constant thievery, are all lies. The Red Hood’s body sang for blood as he walked, practically skipped, through the meetinghouse that day he first came into town. And the flash of teeth beneath his hood was more than enough to reveal the wolf that Bane has let into their midst. “I have…seen enough,” Cass says, still turned away.

A scrape, and then a warm light flows through the room. Cass turns around reluctantly to meet Steph’s pleading eyes as the other girl sets the candle dish down on the wooden dresser. “You’re afraid,” Steph says, raising a hand to Cass’s cheek. Cass does not lean into the warmth, but she does not pull away either. She wishes she could find comfort from it.

“Yes,” Cass says. Her gaze flickers across Steph’s face. She can see the flicker of the candlelight in Steph’s eyes. “You are too.” Not afraid of the Red Hood, but afraid all the same. The other townsfolk are scared too. Cass and Steph have been trying to fix things, but with Bruce and the others gone back across the ocean to find his son and seek healing for Barbara, it is the two of them against powers far beyond their control. Of course Steph wants a solution. Cass does too. But not this one. Not the type of solution the Red Hood can offer.

“The Red Hood may overpromise, but he has the ear of the congregation. We need allies, Cass.”

“We have each other,” Cass says, taking Steph’s hands and feeling Steph’s calloused fingers against her palms.

And they do have each other. Each other is more than Cass had when she fled from her father’s cruel hand and her own bloody guilt, when she wandered the wilds as a young girl, when she stole aboard Bruce’s ship headed for the New World. But even so, each other will not be enough this time. Cass can see the road laid out before them, written in the townsfolk’s fear-filled bodies. She knows what is going to happen—if not today, then in a week or, at most, a few months.

This could be the last time Cass holds Steph’s hands in hers.

Steph steps away. “We do,” Steph says, even as her fingers slip from Cass’s grip. “So, you don’t need to be so worried. Whatever happens, we will fight together.”

Cass hopes not.

“And Bruce should return within the month,” Steph adds. “We won’t have to put up with that bastard of a governor for much longer.”

But a month is time enough to ruin lives. Especially now that the governor has invited the Red Hood in. “Listen,” Cass says. She closes her eyes to block out her sight and focus on her words. She remembers sitting across from Barbara as the ship rocked on the waves, practicing moving her lips and throat and tongue until she sounded something resembling human. Even now, Cass struggles with words. That marks her, she knows. When people are scared, they point fingers. And inevitably, their fingers will point to her.

“I’m listening,” Steph says, her voice warm and solid.

“Bruce will need help.”

“When he returns,” Steph agrees. “And we’ll help him.”

Cass shakes her head. That is not what she is trying to say at all. “You have to—to be here.”

“We’ll both be here for him.”

“You.” Cass taps a finger against Steph’s chest.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Cass,” Steph admits.

Cass’s arms fall to her sides. She clenches her fists in frustration. “You are important,” Cass says eventually.

“And you too.” Steph doesn’t understand. Not yet. Cass prays that she will when the time comes. “Come on. We should eat before the town meeting.”

***

By the time they’ve finished their cornmeal and washed their bowls, the sun has fully risen. Cass and Steph set off for the meetinghouse. They trudge silently through the thick layer of snow over the ground, staying close for warmth. “It will snow,” Steph says, looking up at the sky’s heavy clouds.

Cass nods. Her luck has never been good.

When the pair arrives within site of the meetinghouse, they subtly shift farther away from each other. Hiding. Cass hates it. (She knows it is necessary, even though it would not have been while Bruce was governor. She also knows it will not do her much good. But Steph—for Steph, it could mean the difference between life and death. Cass is grateful that their relationship began after Bane took over and was never known to the townsfolk. Even if it affords them little time together, hiding might be the only reason Steph survives the next month.)

Inside the wooden meetinghouse, the whole town is gathered. Some sit on the hard benches. Others stand and talk. Cass catches a glimpse of Gordon from across the room, but doesn’t dare approach him.

Soon after their arrival, the doors of the meetinghouse are pulled closed with a loud thud. Cass sits down near the front, ignoring Steph’s betrayed glare. She can’t be close to Steph when the moment comes. If the moment comes.

Perhaps the Red Hood is a lesser sort of evil than she had read. Perhaps he will lie and cheat and steal but fail to do much harm. Perhaps Cass was wrong. (When it comes to bodies, though, Cass is never wrong.)

Bane addresses the people. Most do not like him, but he is strong, and he removed Selina from power. When Bane invites the Red Hood onto the platform at the front of the meetinghouse, though, the mood shifts.

The monster steps onto the platform, his scarlet cloak sweeping behind him. His pale hands are clasped in front of him, long, spindly fingers twisted like claws. The cloak’s hood shades his face, keeping his face hidden from the crowd but for the barest glimpse of a grin. Every inch of his posture screams malice. And yet, he is able to command the entire room. Eyes snap to him. The mutterings stop. To these people, the Red Hood is the only person in the world.

He is their savior. He is also their downfall.

Cass wishes she could leap forwards and keep him from speaking. But right now, the whole town is against her. She cannot fight them all and Bane and the Red Hood. So, she stays silent.

“Friends,” the Red Hood says. He paces as he walks. “I am here to free you. You have labored for too long under the influence of a spell. I have seen this all before, further north in Boston. There is one among us—perhaps several among us—who seek our deaths! They were placed here by the Devil, to act as humans, to walk amongst us, to fool us. Children, stolen from the cradle, as the old tales say, and replaced by something else. No more!”

The Red Hood spreads an arm out to the crowd. And then, he extends his finger until he is pointing at a young girl. Claire. She looks no different than the others, but Cass knows how strong she is. When Bruce was governor, Claire and her brother Hank would carry the heaviest things, and the whole town admired them for it. Now, it could be Claire’s death sentence.

“This creature calls itself Goody Clover. Yet no man, and certainly no woman, possesses its unnatural strength!” There are murmurings in the crowd. From across the room, Cass meets Steph’s eyes. There’s fear there, more than there was back at the house. There will be even more soon.

Cass looks away.

“Bring her forth!” The Red Hood orders. Two townsfolk grab Claire by the arms and shove her forwards. Cass sees the fear in their shoulders, their shaking hands, their jackrabbiting pulses. She knows. She knows. She knows how this ends. “You know it to be true.”

“Please,” Claire says. Her voice seems to echo through the meetinghouse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m trying to—”

“The demon lies! Have you not observed its inhuman acts?”

For a moment, there is silence. And then, a spindly man with wild eyes stands. “I have seen her carry what must be two men’s weight of wood—with ease,” Crane says. Others nod.

They are scared. Cass tries to remember that.

But Claire is scared too. Claire is shaking as two men push her to her knees in front of the entire town. Claire has helped build their houses and dig their wells, but no one speaks in her defense.

“Elliot!” The Red Hood calls. Heads turn. Cass knows that Bruce grew up with Elliot. She knows that Elliot followed him here to the New World. She also knows that it won’t matter. Elliot is afraid. “You are a physician, are you not?”

“Well,” Elliot says. “Y-yes. I am.”

The Red Hood cackles. “Well, no need to sound so uncertain about it!”

“Yes,” Elliot repeats, strongly this time. “I am a physician.”

“Excellent! So, tell me—is this possible? Could any woman lift what Goody Clover has lifted?”

Elliot fidgets nervously. Cass knows what he will say. “No,” Elliot says. “I don’t believe it is possible.”

“You heard the man!” Red Hood announces.

If this continues, Claire will be killed. Hank, too. And then the Red Hood will find someone else, someone new, someone wrong. Cass knew this. There was never any question what her response would be.

Cass watches as Claire trembles, and then shifts her gaze to meet Steph’s eyes. She can see the moment Steph realizes what Cass is going to do. No, Steph mouths.

Cass stands anyway. She recalls her father’s lessons and leaps into the air, twisting into a somersault and soaring over the other townsfolk as if a bird in flight. When she lands, shoes thudding into the ground, all eyes are on her. Good.

At first, when she tries to speak, no words come out. Everyone is looking at her. There is a block in her throat. But Cass must speak. She cannot lose her words now. “No,” she says. That comes out, strong and solid and far more confident than Cass feels. “I will not…have her…be known for my acts. I want it to be known! I cursed her. Others too. I brought the storms. This is my work. No…no pure soul will claim it!”

There. It is said. It is done.

The Red Hood laughs. Words drift over Cass now, as the Red Hood speaks of a demon’s pride and the Lord’s punishment and the return of Gotham’s prosperity once the demon is cast away. Cass watches as the Red Hood stalks over to her and grasps her face, nails digging into her cheeks. As he leans down over her, Cass finally sees beneath the scarlet hood.

Cass was right. The Red Hood is no ordinary man. His green eyes are alight with madness, his mouth frozen in a permanent grin. At the corners of his ruby lips sit two gnarled scars in a mimicry of a smile. And just beneath the hood sits a shock of bright green hair. The Jester.

He is going to kill Cass, but that’s okay. He won’t kill Steph or Claire—not if Cass buys them time. And when Bruce gets back with Barbara and Dick and Tim, he will fix this. He has fought the Jester before and won, and he will do it again.

The Jester’s palm strikes Cass’s face. The sting barely registers. Cass has known a lot of pain in her life. She has known the pain of a bullet, of infection, of a man’s life waning beneath her hands. In comparison? This is nothing. “Are you listening?” Jester hisses.

Cass meets his bright green eyes, her mouth set in a thin line. “You will lose,” she says. It’s not a threat, or even a promise. Just a fact. Jester will lose. He is losing right now. Cass is cutting his witch hunt off with her own death.

Jester leans in close, his nose inches from her face. “I want him to never find your body,” he whispers. And then, he steps back, finally letting Cass’s head fall. “The demon is to be banished upon penalty of death!” He announces. As the men behind Cass pull her to her feet, she lets her gaze fall on Steph for a single second. Steph stands with her fists clenched, her weight shifted back. She is just moments from leaping into battle. Cass locks eyes with Steph and gives a subtle shake of her head. She mouths a single word: ‘Jester.��

And then, Cass is shoved forwards, out the meetinghouse doors. The townsfolk march her down the dirt path, past the town wall, and out into the forest. It has already started to snow again. Cass does not turn to look at the people behind her. There is nothing their bodies could tell her except fear, and Cass already knows fear far too well.

“Walk,” the Jester orders.

So, Cass walks into the storm.

***

Cass is going to die. She has been in the cold before, but she always stuck to cities in the winter. Places she could find a warm spot to hide. Here, she has only her clothes, meant for sitting in the meetinghouse and not braving a blizzard.

She could end it right now, to avoid a cold, painful death. But Cass is a survivor. So, she trudges onwards until her toes have lost all feeling and her thoughts have been consumed by the wind.

The storm has ended and the sun is beginning to creep low on the horizon when Cass’s legs give out. She stumbles, then collapses into the snow. It softens her landing, but the wetness begins to sink in past her petticoats and waistcoat and into her smock. If she lay down here and spread her arms, it would be beautiful. An angel in the snow.

She reaches up and removes her hat and undoes her coif and bun, letting her shoulder-length hair spill out into the snow. If only she had flowers. Then the image would be complete.

Cass closes her eyes.

***

“Cass! Cass!”

Cass’s eyes snap open. Steph stands over her, a sack thrown over her shoulder, one gloved hand extended, the sunlight hitting her golden curls just right. She looks like an angel.

Is Cass dead? She—

“Get up, you numbskull!” Steph reaches down, grabs Cass’s arm, and hauls her to her feet. Definitely not an angel.

“Shouldn’t be here,” Cass says, shivering as Steph pulls her close. Even so, Cass lets herself fall into Steph’s arms. “You…not safe.”

“You nearly died!” Steph shouts. She reaches out and rubs at Cass’s arms, trying to return the heat to her body. “I won’t tell you how harebrained that was, because I know you would never do anything different. But listen. We’ll sneak you through the city wall and into the Wayne House. You can hide there until Bruce returns.”

Cass shakes her head, teeth chattering. “They know we are close. They will look.”

Steph stares at Cass. She’s crying. Steph’s hands are shaking, even though she is wearing too many layers to be cold. Scared. Angry. Sad. Happy. Love. It’s too much. Steph always feels too much when she looks at Cass, and now is no exception. “I love you, you dolt,” Steph says. Her hands wrap around Cass’s head and pull her close. Cass leans forwards, her freezing lips brushing against Steph’s warm ones. Steph’s lips capture her own, spreading warmth through Cass’s body. Her fingers tangle in Steph’s curls, holding her like a lifeline.

Steph withdraws ever so slightly, but her lips linger gently against Cass’s face like a question. Cass answers it by leaning forwards hungrily, pressing against Steph once more. Cass didn’t tell Steph she loved her right before they left for the town meeting. So now, she says it with her body, the way she pulls Steph against her and lets Steph twist her in return. Cass leans into the arms that slip under her smock to rest warm and solid on the skin of her shoulders even as she presses forwards, her teeth sinking into Steph’s cracked lips. They are consuming each other, and for a moment, that is all that matters.

Eventually, though, Cass shivers again, and her hands slip from Steph’s hair to wrap around her chest. Steph steps back. “Here.” She opens her sack and passes Cass another, smaller sack. “Warmer clothes, food, and a tinderbox. If you insist on staying.”

Cass smiles.

“When Bruce returns, I’ll meet you here at noon,” Steph promises. “We will defeat Bane and—and the Jester. Here—hold out your arm.” Cass does so. Steph takes one of the purple hair ribbons that she can no longer wear under Bane’s governorship and wraps it around Cass’s wrist. “So you’ll remember me.”

Cass laughs lightly. “Can’t forget you.” But she pulls her arm close and wraps a hand around the wrist with the ribbon. It’s good, she decides. She will always have a piece of Steph with her. It sits in her chest, warm and bright. But having something she can see helps too. “You should go,” Cass says.

“Yes,” Steph says. But she doesn’t step away. Cass puts her hands on Steph’s shoulders and pushes her gently. “I love you,” Steph says, voice soft.

“Love you,” Cass echoes. “Now go.”

***

Three weeks later, Cass sits in the rafters of the meeting house. Steph smuggled her into town. It involved setting fire to the guardhouse, which Cass did not approve. But she’s here now, watching as the Jester addresses the town with Bane at his side. She does not listen to his poison words. She just watches as his body screams hatred and hunger. He is hungry for violence. It is good that Bruce is back; Jester is not sated and is days away from choosing another victim.

Bruce bursts into the meeting house, the heavy door slamming against the wall. Behind him stand Dick, Steph, and a small boy with light brown skin and a deep scowl. They are angry. Good. They should be. The anger will make them fight well.

(Barbara is not there. Cass hopes they were able to help her. But right now, she must focus.)

Cass’s family leaps into battle. Dick and the boy go for the Jester, while Bruce goes directly for Bane.

She watches as they fight.

She watches as they fail.

She watches as they fall.

(The Jester is knocked unconscious by the pommel of the little boy’s sword, but not before Dick’s leg breaks with a sickening crack. Steph is sent flying across the room, blood gushing from her nose after one of Bane’s strikes. Bane nearly chokes the boy to death, only for Bruce to interpose himself at the last minute. And then it’s Bruce against Bane, and Cass has seen that fight end before.)

Not yet, Cass tells herself. Wait.

At last, Bane holds Bruce up in his heavily-muscled arms. He gloats. He thinks he has won. And then, at the pinnacle of his victory, Cass drops from the rafters.

She lands on Bane’s shoulders. Before he has a chance to react, she jabs Bane’s neck, sharp and sudden and exact. His eyes roll back into his head. Cass slips off his back as he falls to the ground.

Steph rushes forwards, arms spread wide as she pulls Cass into her embrace. And then, glancing at Bruce, she pecks Cass on the lips. Cass tastes copper blood and victory.

Bruce smiles.

They’ve won.