If you will not share the blame [Batman comics, Cassandra Cain/Tim Drake, PG]
Title: If you will not share the blame
Author: TeaOtter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Set during the Batgirl/Robin Fresh Blood crossover.
Summary: He's alone even when she's here. So why should she go?
The city is empty.
It isn't empty; Cass knows that. Even four floors above the street, the din of traffic and the rhythmic thumping of a far-off dance club find their way in the open window. It certainly wasn't empty earlier, or Robin would not be sewing tiny careful stitches into her shoulder.
But in the corner of her eye, his shadow says empty. Since he came to Bludhaven, he says alone. With his mouth, he says that he wants her to leave him alone; but he's alone even when she's there. So why should she go?
He stitches evenly, his hands sharp and quick and full of other people. The neatness is Alfred with his tea; the grip on her upper arm is Batman, and quickly removed. So many people to be not here.
There is nowhere in Bludhaven that Spoiler would not have laughed, but her laughter isn't here.
When Robin puts the needle away, Cass catches his hand and pulls it flat against the wound. It hurts. I hurt, she tells him. You hurt me, and we hurt together. But he doesn't hear.
"Steph," she says.
He hears that, but he tries to take his hand away. She hurt him, but he will not share his pain.
"Steph," she insists, twisting until his hand is fisted against her heart. "Steph."
"That's not... no." He's shaking his head, but not to mean no. She lets him pull away, lets him put his fist against his own heart. "Everything. Everything."
His eyes still say alone, but they see her. They hurt together. It's enough.
Author: TeaOtter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Set during the Batgirl/Robin Fresh Blood crossover.
Summary: He's alone even when she's here. So why should she go?
The city is empty.
It isn't empty; Cass knows that. Even four floors above the street, the din of traffic and the rhythmic thumping of a far-off dance club find their way in the open window. It certainly wasn't empty earlier, or Robin would not be sewing tiny careful stitches into her shoulder.
But in the corner of her eye, his shadow says empty. Since he came to Bludhaven, he says alone. With his mouth, he says that he wants her to leave him alone; but he's alone even when she's there. So why should she go?
He stitches evenly, his hands sharp and quick and full of other people. The neatness is Alfred with his tea; the grip on her upper arm is Batman, and quickly removed. So many people to be not here.
There is nowhere in Bludhaven that Spoiler would not have laughed, but her laughter isn't here.
When Robin puts the needle away, Cass catches his hand and pulls it flat against the wound. It hurts. I hurt, she tells him. You hurt me, and we hurt together. But he doesn't hear.
"Steph," she says.
He hears that, but he tries to take his hand away. She hurt him, but he will not share his pain.
"Steph," she insists, twisting until his hand is fisted against her heart. "Steph."
"That's not... no." He's shaking his head, but not to mean no. She lets him pull away, lets him put his fist against his own heart. "Everything. Everything."
His eyes still say alone, but they see her. They hurt together. It's enough.