Work Text:
Hallucinating was basically a rite of passage. It had happened to Cass before, back when she'd taken soul. Steph had mentioned hallucinating, once or twice, but she'd avoided elaborating. According to Babs, it happened to just about everyone. Cass saw it as a mark of excellence. If you hadn't seen your regrets staring back at you, did you even care enough to call yourself a hero?
This time, though? Cass wasn't hallucinating. She knew because she'd been seeing Steph. Spoiler hid on rooftops, in their meeting spots. In Cass's dreams. Her voice haunted Cass. Had she failed Spoiler? Had Spoiler failed Cass? Had Gotham herself failed them both?
But she was also seeing Steph. Or at least, the ghost of her. Cass's brain tended to default to visual. Audio came, because Spoiler had always had plenty to say, but Steph's ghost didn't take physical form. Maybe she saw a smudge of purple, but what came through were haunting questions. The voice was distinct as Spoiler. It was warped, like there was a glitch in the transmission, but it was still most definitely her.
Why would Spoiler follow Cass to Blüdhaven? Why wouldn’t she stay with Batman, haunt him for firing her? Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, maybe Steph should've just stayed out of vigilantism altogether, but he was more at fault than Cass was. Or maybe Spoiler could stick with Catwoman, who had been there for her when it was all crashing down. Why Cass, and not even Tim? If Tim was seeing spoiler, he would've mentioned it. He'd gotten over his fear of Cass. He wouldn't hide something this important, not without reason, not without Cass figuring out that he was keeping things from her.
Spoiler chose the cruelest moments to appear. Cass caught a glimpse of purple whenever Brenda made her heart start to flutter. When Cass was bored on a mission, Steph had a quip or two to mention, and a spine-chilling laugh before she'd vanish. Once or twice, when things got tough, Cass could've sworn that she saw Steph, almost in detail, whispering encouragement that Cass couldn't quite make out.
This couldn't go on. Cass couldn't keep a foot in the past, not anymore. She was in Blüdhaven now. Her history was a graveyard, and the only people she could help lived in the future. Maybe Cass would live a life defined by a ghost from her childhood, but that was simple. That was Cass's sin. She had to be the one to redeem herself and to save others. Steph was more confusing. It wasn't just Cass's fault, it wasn't just Cass's mistakes, and she'd tried her best. It didn't motivate Cass. It just made her miss her best friend.
Maybe Cass would scare Steph's ghost off, forever. Was that better or worse? The ghost held open the gaping wound in Cass's heart, and it hurt her, but at least it kept Cass from being alone.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Cass wasn't seeing a ghost, and her brain was trying to cope with the loss of her only connection to something that resembled a normal teenage life. Maybe she couldn't handle this. Maybe she'd finally lost.
Could anyone else understand what it was like to hate your father? Could anyone come close to understanding Cass's upbringing the way that Steph had? When Steph died, did part of Cass die with her?
“Spoiler.” Cass’s voice was raspy. It was hardly audible over the omnipresent noise of the city. "Spoiler!”
She saw a flash of purple. Bingo. “Spoiler. I know you’re here.”
“But I’m not.” Steph's voice was hardly audible. Cass had to bite back a laugh at how different it was from how Steph was. “I’m a memory. I’m not in your world anymore. How can I be here?”
“Steph!” Cass’s head whipped towards the voice. She tore her mask off. She didn't want her last glimpse of Steph to be anything but raw. “Don’t—” Cass's words were failing her. Fuck. "Don't be dumb. You're here, even if you're 'not.'"
Steph's chuckle sent shivers across Cass's nervous system, made every hair on her body stand up under the suit. “Dumb, huh? Tim was always the 'smart' one . Guess that’s why I died, right?”
Cass… couldn’t answer that. Not now. Because she wouldn't lie, not now, not to Spoiler. She just didn't know if she could put her mess of opinions into words. “You shouldn’t have done what you did,” Cass whispered. “Why did you start a war?”
“You blame me? Just like everyone else does?”
“No, I…” Yes. No. Steph fucked up. It wasn’t her intention. It was still the consequences of her own actions, but she didn’t deserve to die from it. “Batman’s opinion of you isn’t… wasn’t worth it.”
“Glass houses. How much of your life have you spent copying him? How many opinions of his did you just accept as your own?" Cass didn't remember Steph being this bitter. Death must've changed her. Or maybe this was just her last chance to clear the air in some kind of swan song.
Cass sank to the ground, her back flat on the concrete rooftop. She didn't want to address what Steph had said. Maybe Cass did tend to follow Batman's lead, but maybe it wasn't always a bad thing. It had led her to where she was, hadn't it? “Gotham isn’t herself without you.”
“She’s not the same without you, either.”
“What do you want?” Cass whispered. “You can't, or maybe won't, let me look at you. So why are you haunting me?”
“Who else cares as much as you do? My mom? Tim?” Cass hated that laugh. Out of everything, it was the furthest from what Steph had been like in life. “And out of everyone, don’t we have the most unsaid?”
Cass crossed her arms. Waited. She had always had more patience than Steph.
“You told me to go home.”
“If you had, you would’ve lived.”
“Wasn’t it my mess to clean up?”
“Maybe it was,” Cass agreed. “But you couldn’t, and you shouldn’t have tried. You can help, maybe, but it can’t all fall on you.” Cass decided not to add the You did try, and you tried to let it fall on you, and look what happened. Cass knew, Steph knew, and letting the words fall in the space between them could only damage them both.
“Why couldn't you believe in me?” A small sigh, like a small gust of wind. “Nobody did. Not Batman, at least. Barely Tim. Why couldn’t you?”
Cass's stomach dropped. It wasn't like Steph to be this direct. She seemed like she'd given up on caring about her impact— or even like she was trying to make sure Cass felt her pain. Or maybe like Steph did care, but it was outweighed by her need to understand everything, to have it all laid bare, to stop being haunted by the mess of her history.
Cass wished Steph could appear like ghosts do in Babs's movies, so that she could read Steph. If she had body language in the equation, she could finally understand all of the subtleties of what Steph meant, catch the double meanings, and maybe even see the problems. She didn't know how to fix the issues between the two of them. But being able to have a better sense of what Steph was feeling would be a start.
“Because you weren’t trained,” Cass responded. “You were a good friend, but I had to watch your back in a fight. You were safer away from the action.”
“Safer away, huh?" Steph snorted. "Aren't you, technically? Aren't we all?" Steph sighed into the breeze. "I never could live up to any of you, could I?”
“I didn’t need you to.”
“But I needed you to need me at your side.” A breeze traced across Cass's cheek. She'd think it was the wind, but it was a bit more solid, and acted a bit more deliberate. She knew it was Steph. Even if she couldn't rationalize it— it just was her.
“I spent so much time looking for you,” Cass choked out. “The whole time. I was only trying to keep you safe. And then I found you, and I couldn’t protect the one person I needed to. I— why would you think I didn't need you? How could you say that?”
“You saw me as a liability, don't you hear yourself? I was someone you needed to protect. I didn't— I never wanted that. I needed to prove myself, for Bruce and you and Tim and everyone, even myself. Whether you approved or not.” Cass bit back comment about how Steph failed. Because maybe Steph was wrong, but that didn't change anything about her motivations, not really. If there was anything Cass understood by now, it was trying to prove and redeem yourself. She couldn't be worthy or pure in her own eyes. Even if it killed Steph, how could she say it was wrong to chase something so similar?
If Cass closed her eyes, she could imagine Spoiler sitting with her. Not as just her voice in the wind and a memory of a color. In Cass's mind, she added a body, put her first language into its mannerisms, and it was all a little easier.
But Steph wasn’t here. She never would be. Not anymore.
“I miss you.” It wasn't enough, but what else could Cass say?
Her lips tingled as cold air ghosted over them. Steph's goodbye. “I miss you too. But I need to move on."
"I know." Somehow, despite all that Steph had said, the air still held just as much unsaid. There was a tension in the silence, one that Cass could decode but wasn't sure she wanted to.
"I loved you, til the end. I don't— I wasn't sure you felt the same. And now there's Brenda, so I can't just drop this on you now, but— I loved you."
Cass had known how Steph felt, but had never known what her own feelings were. She just had never expected to hear it. And frankly? What was Cass supposed to do with that? She wasn’t— there was nothing between her and Brenda—
"I think—" No. She wasn't sure, beforehand, but it was all starting to make sense. She was sure, in that instant, of what she'd felt, and of what she'd let slip away. "I love you too." Four simple words. They could've changed everything, once. Now, with Steph dead, did they change anything at all?
Cass had always projected herself onto Oracle. She'd seen Dick and Babs break up, and it had crushed her own hopes of a successful love life. She'd doubted her love life would end in something but tragedy. Steph was just the latest failure. At least she got to be honest with Steph at some point before it was all too late.
"I’m sorry I couldn't be better. Maybe the next won't make my mistakes.” One final gust of wind, and Cass sensed that Steph was gone. Forever, probably. Maybe she was haunting someone else, maybe she had crossed to whatever 'other side' existed. Cass's eyes stung. She wiped her nose across the back of her arm. Her face felt hot, and she had to get out of there. She just wanted to hide, alone, in her own memories.
“And I forgive you," Cass whispered. Steph had left, but just in case, she'd face the direction that Steph had disappeared in. "I'm sorry too.”
She pulled her mask back over her head, covering her bloodshot eyes. When she held a hand out to the wind, she imagined the breeze was Steph's incorporeal hand trying to hold Cass's.
She pulled out a grapple gun. When swallowing her feelings failed, she bottled them up instead and left them to collect dust on the rooftop. She couldn't get home faster than her memories could follow, but maybe if she tried, she'd get to forget.
Just for a moment, at least.
