tushanshu_logs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Characters: Cassandra Cain and Bruce Wayne
Location: Cass's suite in Earth sector.
Situation: Familial bonding.
Warnings/Rating: G probably.

Cassandra leaves her windows open when she's there. (Not when she's home; this isn't home, not yet.) It makes her feel less contained, less confined. She's not a creature of caves any more.

A rose needs light to grow.

She's not afraid of who might crawl through; she has little reason to be. Besides, there are people here who are more than welcome to. It's like a silent invitation.

So she isn't particularly surprised, really, when Bruce slips into her room. She turns to him with a warm smile, eyebrows raised in quiet curiosity.

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He'd meant to do this sooner, but as with all things, time got away from him. The gang war was hardly an appropriate time to breach the subject with her.

He took the time to recount the documents from memory. He's not interested in forging signatures (though he could) or obtaining the correct legal documentation via the local custom, because ultimately that won't matter to Cassandra.

Of course, he's dressed as Batman. One doesn't go climbing into open windows as Bruce Wayne, but he does reach up to take the cowl off. His body language is... relaxed. Calm. The slightest bit mischievous, and equally as nervous. This never gets any easier, but-- it's always done for the right reasons.

"Cassandra. I have something for you." He pulls the envelope out of his inside pocket, and gestures at the kitchen table so they can sit. He doesn't expect her to read it - at this point in her timeline she would have a difficult time of it - but it's still meant for her.

He waited too long to do this in his time. Keeliai is... not a place to make those same mistakes.

Cass studies him for a moment, not quite sure what to make of everything she's seeing.

"For me?" Her gaze lingers on the envelope, more curious than ever. With one more glance up at Bruce, she turns, making her way to the table to sit down.

She places her elbows on the table, folding her hands. Barbara always did that, when there were serious talks.

"Mm."

Bruce takes a seat as well, beside Cassandra rather than opposite her. The conversation is serious, yes, but perhaps not in the way she thinks.

"This... is something I did back home. Later. But it should have been done a long time before then." He draws the papers out of the envelope, smooths them out across the table. "I drew them up from memory. It's the legal write-up for--" he pauses, briefly, and takes a pen from his inside pocket to lay it down beside the pages. "-- formal adoption papers. For you. If you'd like."

Cass shifts to face him, expression slowly turning from confusion to shock. She looks down at the papers, back at him, down at the papers, back -

"Adoption? ...Me? You?"

It's - he's done this? Will do this?

She knows they're...like family. But this is - she never -

He smiles a little. It's one of those rare, genuine ones that he uses so rarely. More Batman than Bruce Wayne.

"Yes. This is of course just a formality, Cassandra, and I doubt it would hold up under a court of law in Keeliai."

But Cassandra is his daughter, in all the ways that matter, and his posture reflects that. The warmth and protectiveness and care, all the things he can't say aloud but means regardless.

A slow nod, before she abruptly to switches shaking her head. "Doesn't matter."

Because she sees it all, and she understands, now, about gestures, about symbols and the power they have.

"It means - to us." And her eyes are still so wide, as they take in the utter sincerity of what he's doing, what he's offering. This isn't about the mission, or about appearances; this is about them. Bruce and Cassandra.

Father...and daughter.

Her hand reaches for the pen.

He nudges the papers over. He's already signed them of course. His signature is bold, elegant, sharp on the downstroke and lighter in the loops. Handwriting analysis would paint him as a man of convictions and secrets. Not untrue.

"You don't want me to read it first?" He doesn't need to, of course. She understands the gesture, and the words aren't necessary to complete that. But he still has to ask.

Her gaze catches on his signature; she can only recognise some of the letters, but it looks like him, somehow. Her fingers traces the cursive, and old convictions are renewed.

"Um." Her gaze ticks up. "Summary?" Papers like this always seem to have a lot of extra words.

He laughs a little. "It talks about the rights you'd have to my estate, as an heir and daughter. There's a clause in there to ensure if-- for any reason you wish to, ah, cancel the agreement, you may." He taps a finger down against the paper lightly. "This is permanent to me, but I want you to have the power to choose for yourself."

In case he lets her down. Or if he deserves it. Bruce has no illusions about being a perfect father, not to any of his children. He's hurt them all in various ways and he'll continue to do so as all of them learn and grow together.

Cass nods thoughtfully, though her brow furrows at the last bit. "Wouldn't." Her voice is firmly assured. It doesn't matter what happens - he's already proved to her that anything that breaks is worth fixing. Not erasing.

She rests her pen on the paper, glancing at him for guidance. Where does she sign, exactly?

He covers her hand with his and moves it down the page a bit, to a blank line. Her name is stamped beneath it, and the one detail of the document that's changed between this and the documents he has back home is a little black bat symbol etched in beside her name.

Because that's important, too.

It makes her grin, because - even if she doesn't know if she'll be Batgirl, any more, the Bat will always be part of her.

The smile falters, though, as she glances up at him again. He doesn't know about - wait. Does he?

"I need to know - um. I..." Her gaze drops again. "If we don't - agree. On everything. Am I still - "

"Always."

His tone is gentle, but firm. He wonders how much Stephanie has told her-- but dismisses it. Cassandra needs to know. He isn't going to abandon her or forsake her any more than he could Jason, no matter what she's done or what's changed between them. 'Family' isn't just a word to Bruce. It's deeper than that. Beyond blood and bone, it reaches right into the foundation of the soul - or what passes for it, anyway.

He leans over, wraps an arm around Cassandra's shoulders. He isn't good at displays of physical affection but-- for this, he can manage.

Cass finds herself blinking hard as she leans into the embrace. She can see all of that, and it's such a weight lifted from her shoulders, a warmth lit in her chest.

She doesn't pull away as she raises the pen again. Slowly, carefully, she begins to write her name. It's the one thing she can write, really, with any confidence.

That smile is back, just a little while he watches her careful penmanship. Then,

"Have you decided what you want to do? About Batgirl."

The title, not Stephanie.

Cass looks up, uncertainty clear on her face. "I...no." She lays down the pen, raising her hand to rest it on her chest. "Think I need to be just...me, for a while." Once, Batgirl had been her - it was all she wanted to be - but now...

She tilts her head.

"Does this mean I'm...Cassandra Wayne?"

"Do you want to be?"

Using the name isn't important. Dick still uses Grayson. And Tim uses Wayne only when he's acting as the Wayne heir in some official capacity. It's never been a requirement for him, but... he wouldn't object to Cassandra's use of it.

Cass bites her lip. Cain is - that's - well, it's his name, she only has it because -

She never uses it, not really.

Slowly, she nods. It would feel...good, to leave that name behind, and to take one that feels like hers. One that isn't just blood and nightmares.

"Yes."

"Then yes. You're Cassandra Wayne." He gathers up the paper and the pen, folds the former back down and tucks it back into the envelope. He sets them together, neatly, in front of them on the table.

"Welcome to the family."

Suddenly her eyes are burning, and she thrusts herself into his arms, throwing her own around his waist.

"Thank you," she murmurs into his chest.

Bruce-- sort of freezes at the sudden proximity, but he relaxes after a moment and rests one hand between her shoulder blades. It's sort of an awkward position in a chair, but Cassandra's tiny enough that it barely makes a difference.

"Don't thank me. You deserve this, Cassandra. You earned it."

She expected that, and she doesn't take it personally, just burrowing closer when he relaxes again.

Finally, she tilts her head up. Her cheeks are a bit damp.

"What about - out there?" What's the story?

It's one of the things Cassandra has always understood about him. Dick and Tim and even Jason could be resentful of his distance-- Cassandra simply accepts it. He wonders if her form of reading people helps. She knows the emotions are there, and knows equally as much how bad he is at showing them.

After a moment, that hand lifts to stroke her hair.

"It's difficult, with the foreigner population being so small, to protect our identities the same way we did back in Gotham. Honestly, it would be better if none of us ever spoke on the Network at all, or outside of our costumes." But the others have sort of... ran roughshod over that one, and Bruce honestly isn't sure if there's much point in maintaining any distance now, or if it would simply seem more suspicious.

"There isn't any point lying about it, however. You're my daughter, and if anyone tries to push you for more information than that, I'll deal with them. For the rest-- use your own judgement."

He's trying to trust that, in others. It's still hard to say. Not alone.

He'll repeat that in his mind as many times as he needs to for it to stick. After everything.

Cass closes her eyes, for a moment, head tilting into the touch. It's still - strange, sometimes, to be touched in ways that aren't violent. She always cherishes it.

Then she nods, meeting his gaze.

"Then I'm - Cassandra Wayne. To everyone." A giddy little smile curves her lips. She...likes that.

He mirrors the nod, still with a very faint smile to his expression. After what Cassandra has been through - not just at his point of time, but even in her own - he's... glad that he can give her this.

A pause.

"And Cassandra. If you want to know about my parents, ask." He won't lie and say it doesn't hurt. But-- some injuries can't be healed by simply sealing them away. His parents have been a source of darkness to him for so long, maybe it's time to honour their memories equally as much as he's affected by their death.

They would have liked Cassandra.

Her eyes go wide, and then her arms tighten around him again, as she rests her head on her chest.

"Thank you." It doesn't surprise her, that he knows; she'd sort of expected that.

After a few moments, she meets his eyes again. "Think they'd be...proud. Of who you are."

There are very few people he's never been able to hide his reactions from. He's been able to fool Clark in the past, even with his x-ray vision and super-hearing. He's fooled the fabric of his own mind, an Archivist from the end of time. He's bluffed gods and demons alike, but Cassandra-- she always knows better.

So while he stifles the full-body flinch that follows her words, he doubts she misses it. If it were anyone but Cassandra, that would be the end of this conversation.

But she's speaking from... a different place than most people he knows. Cassandra is so empty of deception that he has to take them as they're meant. Not an insult or a barb.

"Thank you."

He doesn't believe her. But on the heels of his offer, he's not going to shut her down when she's... only trying to say something she thinks he'd like to hear.

Cass frowns, staring up at him with clear concern. He doesn't believe her, because - oh.

"Wouldn't want you - to be perfect." She knows he tries to be. Knows that's why he pushes everyone else so hard.

She pulls back a little, so she can place a hand on his chest.

"I think...they'd want - good. From you. And - " And he does so much of it, he has so much of it, even when he doesn't see.

"You are." Her voice is very intent as she stares up at him. She's not trying to make him feel better, or to repay him for what he's done. She's simply telling him what she believes, what she knows.

Bruce is perfectly still as she speaks. He loves his parents. Even now, though they've been dead for more of his life than they were alive. He wanted to fight crime for them. For all the people who were helpless against it, for all the children who had to grow up without their parents, all the parents who had to live on after the loss of a child.

Bruce wants vengeance for his parents. Vengeance and justice both.

But he pushes himself to be perfect not for their memories or ghosts, but for the people around him, the people who need him to be perfect. Who rely on his being so. People like Cassandra, and Damian and Dick and Tim and --

Jason.

Whom he's failed once before, for want of perfection.

There are many times when Bruce refrains from speech, but few when he's actually speechless. This is one of those times. So he says nothing, merely meets her gaze and nods, just slightly.

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