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#Cass and Steph are best bros even though they don't know it yet
danny-chase · 3 years
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batgirl (Comics), Batman and the Outsiders (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain & the Batfam Characters: Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson (briefly), Barbara Gordon (briefly), Tim Drake (briefly), Bruce Wayne (Mentioned), Jefferson Pierce (mentioned) Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU) Feels, The timeline is a mess, feelings of discomfort, Feelings of Not Belonging, Crocs, POV Cassandra Cain, late night bathroom girl talks, no beta we die like Cass, dreams of alternate timeline, timeline converging, Confusion, Eventual Fluff, Nightmares Summary:
The one where Cass know something is wrong with her Crocs, and it spirals into more being wrong with her world.
Cassandra never thought much about what she wore, it’s not like it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. What was ‘right’ to wear, ‘wrong’ to wear, she didn’t really know, she just picked what she liked, and that was that. Barbara helped keep her closet in three neat sections: clothes for fancy things – charities or dances, clothes for blending in outside, and clothes for training. It was simple, easy, efficient. She didn’t have to think about it.
But here she was, pacing back and forth in front of her closet. It wasn’t the clothes she was confused about, but a pair of shoes. Light blue, with holes. Duke called them crocs. Crocs. She turned the word over, again and again in her mind. She remembered picking them out, but the memory was blurry, she had this eerie feeling they were wrong somehow.
She’d had this feeling before – that something was wrong with the world, with her. Her costume sometimes felt wrong, like it didn’t quite belong. She shifted, irritated, from side to side. Sometimes, she talked wrong too, thought wrong. Everything, some days, just felt wrong.
And here she was, standing on her hands, glaring at her crocs. Her crocs that were wrong, but they couldn’t be wrong because she’d gotten them with Duke. She remembered – she was sure she remembered.
It had been a cloudy day, her arm stuck in a sling. Bruce had said she was training too hard, she should take it easy, and she had disagreed. But then he brought up Duke. Duke, who had been injured by Karma. Who was so angry and hurt, but she never knew what to say to fix things. And Bruce hadn’t known either. But all the same, they had to try something.
He gave her money and instructions. Take Duke to get food at the mall. It had been easy, fun. He was upset, but took the time to make her laugh, thanked her for spending time with him. They’d spun through racks of clothes, posing with sunglasses, and trying on random things, then swapping. They bought him a short shirt that showed off his belly button. A… crop top, he’d said. And she, skipping through the aisles had stopped in front of the blue crocs.
She’d felt strange then, like the world was wrong, and somehow, she felt drawn to them. Duke had looked at her as though she was crazy when she tried them on but shrugged and told her she had great tastes in fashion (lie). He’d been getting tired, the more they walked, but he smiled all the same, told her she looked great in them (not a lie). And she bought them, now here she was, feeling the same feeling of wrongness.
Sometimes, she felt like a different person.
Sometimes, she felt like Duke shouldn’t be there.
Sometimes, she missed people she met once.
And sometimes, she stared at the blue crocs, with an inkling she’d seen them before she’d ever stepped foot in that store.
 She’d been feeling well this week. Things were going well with her team, things were going well for her. She had almost finished her latest book, when she was struck by the feeling of wrongness once again. She gripped her hair, squeezing her eyes shut, burying her head in the side of her chair.
She was Cassandra Cain. She was herself. She wasn’t wrong. This was her, wasn’t it? This was her life.
But even her name sounded wrong in her head. Cassandra felt right, Cain felt wrong. But if not a Cain, who was she?
She was powerful. Strong. That was right. She’d taken down ten men last week in hardly any time, and it felt so right!
But sitting in a chair reading felt wrong.
It was so confusing. She didn’t understand, why this but not that?
Throwing the offending book across the room, she stamped to her closet. Flinging open the door, she glared at the shoes. The crocs glared back, there little holes mocking her.
The holes.
The holes were wrong.
The color was right.
She was getting somewhere. The holes were wrong, the color was right. But again, why this and not that? Clenching her fists in frustration, she threw her head back, wanting to scream but holding it in. Instead, she grabbed her costume and headed out.
 Cass had dreams, dreams of being in a city she didn’t recognize. Spending time with people she didn’t know. And the people she did know were different. Tim was smaller in her dreams, and Dick was older. Bruce was… he felt more familiar. And Barbara – she didn’t know why, but Barbara was always in a wheelchair. But she hadn’t been there for that, had she?
Every time she saw the bats, they felt wrong. Different. Maybe different was the right word. Was she the only one feeling like this? She couldn’t tell. She told Duke once, and he shrugged saying something about déjà vu. But the word didn’t feel right.
Barbara was worried. “You can talk to me, Cass, what’s wrong?” But how could she explain what was going on? Bruce whispered to Jeff about how she was quieter… withdrawn. He’d said withdrawn. But she wasn’t trying to change, wasn’t trying to… withdraw. The world was just confusing, she couldn’t keep focused with this immense feeling of dread shrouding her.
In the dreams, sometimes a girl gave her tea. In a little shop. In the city she’d never been to. And she woke up screaming because it always faded away into a wasteland.
And for some reason, she kept calling Stephanie Brown when it happened.
Tonight, she’d called again.
“Cass, bad dream? Are you okay?” She felt like she’d known Steph for years.
“Everything’s wrong.” She confessed. Steph hummed. The line was quiet. She should hang up, she usually did. Usually just said yes and hung up. But, Stephanie’s voice was comforting, it was good to know she was safe.
“Wrong like, things are going wrong right now? Or like, things feel… off.” Cass sucked in a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, someone else understood.
“Off.” She replied.
“Like… things aren’t quite, right?” Exactly.
“Like… people are… different?” She explained.
“Like they didn’t use to be there.” Steph agreed.
“Or were there longer.” Cass breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t wrong. Something was wrong, or well… off. But, whatever it was, it wasn’t in her head. The world was wrong. Not her.
“Do you ever dream about things that never happened, but it feels so real you’re certain it did?” Cass nodded, then realized she was using a phone.
“Yes.” She sat in silence for a moment. “Can I… come over?” Steph felt right, an beacon in the midst of the chaos of the wrong world.
“Please.” Steph sounded just as eager to stick together.
“Coming.” She hung up the phone, and snatched up a bag, flinging open the door of her closet, and grabbing some clothes for tomorrow. The blue crocs leered at her, so she shoved her feet into them. Maybe Steph would know why they were wrong.
 Steph sat on the edge of the toilet, and she sat on the rim of the tub.
“This feels right.” Cass decided. Steph nodded.
“I don’t know why but you’re right.” She plopped her head in her hands, tired and agitated, but excited. “I feel like I know you, but like we only met a few months ago.” She made a thinking face.
Cass thought too. She took in Stephanie’s face, and closed her eyes. The burning town came to mind.
“Were you in…” She trailed off; it was a dumb question. Steph would have died with the girl who gave her tea if she were there.
“Go on.” It was stupid. “I’m not going to judge, throw anything out there, no wrong answers.”
“In my dreams, there’s a city.” She opened her eyes, staring into Steph’s face. “It burns, and I’m there, with you.” Steph tilted her head.
“In my dreams, sometimes I die.” Cass winced.
“Me too.”
“Could it have happened in the city? I don’t know, maybe we had like past lives there or something?” She suggested.
“I’m me when I die.” Cass asserted. She always died fighting, nowhere near the city.
“Me too.” Steph sighed. “It’s so frustrating. I don’t get it.” Cass nodded.
“I feel wrong.” She added.
“Literally, same.” Steph shook her head in frustration and made to leave the bathroom. “Okay, good night’s sleep, we’ll work on it again tomorrow.”
Cass wanted to scream. She wanted to know, to know right now. Wanted to get this figured out.
“Whatever.” Was all she got out, Steph shrugged indifferently.
“Sleep will help your brain work better. It’s a scientific fact.” Cass followed her out into her bedroom.
There were purple crocs inside her closet.
She stepped closer.
“Cass, what are you-” Steph kept talking, but Cass couldn’t hear her anymore.
The holes on the crocs were filled.
Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled out of Steph’s room, her mind whisking her away into a memory she’d somehow forgotten, a memory that didn’t feel wrong - a memory that felt right a memory that-
The purple crocs were in her hands, she was in a small store, a crocodile painted on the wall behind her. Stephanie was laughing at Tim. He was wearing green crocs. Barbara was in the corner, chatting with Dick from her wheelchair. They were smiling fondly at each other. Love painted across everyone’s faces.
And she, was so happy. She was standing still, basking in the afternoon glow of the sun, and the warmth of those around her.
“Thanks for holding those for me, you want a pair too?” Steph bounced in front of her and plucked the crocs out of her hands, giving her a friendly wink.  
“I think you should get bright blue ones.” Dick suggested. Barbara snorted. They both were looking at her fondly.
“If she gets blue ones, you have to get yellow.” She pointed out.
“Yeah, that’s only fair.” Tim agreed. “As long as no one gets the same color we should be good.”
A pair of blue crocs were dropped in her hands. Her heart was expanding in her chest.
“Okay, everyone, she needs charms too, move it people!” Steph cried happily. Everyone dug in the bins surrounding them. Little icons, little… charms. The word sounded right. The blue crocs were right.
The memory faded out, and she found herself quickly falling asleep.
 She woke up before Steph. Silently, she tiptoed downstairs. Her crocs were full of charms.
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