Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For six hours everything was perfect. Six hours where nothing mattered except that Stephanie was alive and home. She’d started to explain what had happened, but every time she tried they had gotten side tracked. None of it seemed important. Stephanie was alive. In the face of that, what else could possibly matter?

Six hours between when Stephanie approached her in the hallway and when she went to bed and left Crystal alone with her thoughts.

Six hours, and then the bubble popped.

Crystal tried to maintain it, explanations would come later, there would be a time to talk about everything. A time that wasn’t now. Now was for focusing on the miracle that was Stephanie and the joy that came with it.

But once she was alone, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from wandering.

Africa. What on earth had Stephanie been doing in Africa for over a year and a half (one year, nine months, twelve days)? She’d said a doctor had been with her, been the one to take her there. What kind of doctor would take a child to a foreign country without a word? And the body- who had she been? Who was the poor girl they’d buried under the name Stephanie Brown? Was her mother out there somewhere, stuck in a purgatory of uncertainties?

Did Batman know? If what Arthur had uncovered was true, that Stephanie had been Robin, then maybe he’d been involved with the whole thing. Was that why he had been so desperate to get his hands on the file, because he knew if they looked to closely all the pieces would fall apart? Had he looked her in the face, knowing her daughter was alive, and not told her? If Crystal hadn’t burned it, had actually taken the time to look inside, would she have known the truth so much sooner?

The questions circled in her head, keeping her locked at the kitchen table, stuck in almost exactly the same position she’d been in when Stephanie had given her a tight hug and headed up to bed. Even her cup was still cradled in her hands despite her not having taken a sip since Stephanie left the room.

She should push herself up, creep up the stairs and peak into Stephanie’s room, just to be sure this was real before heading to bed herself. But if it wasn’t, did she really want the dream to end?

Crystal stayed where she was.

It was only when she heard a small shuffling noise coming from the hall that she even looked up, just as Stephanie stumbled her way into the kitchen. She stopped abruptly in the doorway. “Oh- hey. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”

“I was just thinking about going to bed.” Her eyes scanned over Stephanie, the same way they had all night. Checking again, for any sign this was a trick. Stephanie looked different, thinner and less toned. Her skin was darker, which made the new scars all the more obvious. But it was still her eyes, still the same crocked smile that could make any room feel brighter. The same small line on her forehead from where she’d run into an end table as a baby.

Crystal’s eyes drifted down, away from her face and stopped. The sweatshirt could be excused, the house got chilly at night, but old jeans and battered sneakers? “Are you going out?”

There was the slightest hesitation, before Stephanie shrugged “Just for a walk, I need to clear my head.”

For a walk. At this time of night. Her eyes traced upwards again, following the zipper of the sweatshirt until she was looking back at Stephanie’s face. Fully zipped, no hint of what was hidden underneath. The nagging at the back of her head pulled at her. She should push. Make sure that’s all it was.

“Right.”

It must not have been as convincing as she’d hoped, because Stephanie let out an annoyed sigh. “Mom, it’s just a walk. If I was going out as Spoiler I would have snuck out the window like I used to.”

“Of course, how silly of me.” As if it were a baseless concern. Stephanie had spent the better part of her teens in that costume, more than enough to warrant suspicion.

After a second though Crystal gave in, letting out a breath and relaxing her shoulders. This wasn’t worth a fight, not so soon after everything. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

A good day. An undeniably good day. But an exhausting one as well.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Stephanie shrugged, finally stepping properly into the kitchen. For a moment Crystal thought she was going to take the seat next to her again, but Steph stayed standing. “It must be a lot to take in.”

That was one way to put it. The facts were all still spinning around her head, questions racing to burst out and try and help make sense of the situation. But there would be time for those later. They didn’t matter right now. Her baby was alive, that alone was enough to overwhelm her.

This wasn’t about her though, not really, and that was okay. Stephanie had gone through so much, being back after all of it couldn’t be easy either. Crystal pushed her own feelings down, looking back with a soft comforting smile. “You seem like you’re handling it well.”

“I mean, I knew I was alive the whole time.”

There was the forced nonchalance that Crystal knew all so well, paired with the ‘I don’t want to talk’ shrug. Those were her cues to let it go, but for once Crystal didn’t want to take the out, to fall into the same patterns as before. This was their chance to try again, her chance to be there in the way she’d never been able to before. She wouldn’t let it slip by. “Still, it must be stranger to be back here after so long.”

Another shrug, but the answer didn’t come right away, and when it did Stephanie’s voice was at least a little more genuine. “It was at first, but I-”

“At first?” Crystal sat up, the words prickling their way down her spine. “How long have you been back?”

Stephanie shifted slightly, glancing past her towards the back door, and for a split second Crystal thought she was going to bolt rather than answer. She didn’t, but she also didn’t answer.

“Stephanie.”

“Just a few weeks!” It came out fast, reassuring. As if a few weeks was a reasonable amount of time. As if a single day would have been a reasonable amount of time to be back in Gotham without coming home.

“A few weeks? What on earth were you doing?” What could have possibly been more important?

“I had to take care of some stuff.” Another shrug, a movement that was getting increasingly frustrating. This wasn’t some small detail to be shrugged off and ignored.

“This has to do with all those things your father dug up, doesn’t it?”

The realization slammed into Crystal, suddenly obvious and overpowering. What else could it be?

“What? What does dad have to do with anything?”

“You’re getting wrapped up in all of it again! Even after everything that happened, you’re still going out there.” Maybe not tonight, but it was suddenly so clear. Spoiler. That’s what this was about, what it was always about. No matter how far it seemed like they came, how many times Stephanie had assured her she was done with it, they always ended up back here.

To her credit, Stephanie didn’t sound dismissive anymore, “It’s not like that.”

In the past the added edge to Stephanie’s voice might have been enough to make Crystal back down and avoid the fight. Not this time. She couldn’t- wouldn’t- look away again. “Then what is it like?”

“There were some things I had to fix, they were my responsibility.”

It was the same as always. Always running off to try and fix some problem or help a stranger without ever stopping to think about the ripple effects. As if it was Stephanie’s responsibility to somehow balance scales she hadn't had any part in tipping them over. Crystal wanted to scream that she was a child, that it wasn’t her responsibility to fix anything. To repeat it over and over until it finally managed to stick.

Instead what came out was “And that was more important than coming home?”

“No, but I needed to take care of all of that first, just in case-”

Stephanie trailed off, attention back on Crystal for just a moment, before she was looking away again. There was a moment of nostalgia, Steph merging for just a moment with the tiny child version of herself, checking to see if her mother had caught her mistake before looking away to not seem suspicious. Back than it had made her smile. Now it brought a sinking certainty to what Stephanie had been about to say.

“In case what?”

“I wasn’t going to come home and give you hope if it wasn’t going to last.”

The words were almost exactly what Crystal had expected, but they sent ice through her all the same. “You thought it would be better to run off and get yourself killed without ever telling me?”

“Obviously that wasn’t he goal,” Stephanie countered. Her voice was still infuriating calm, relaxed, as if they were discussing nothing more important than a failed test. “But if it did happen, I wasn’t going to make you deal with it again.”

So it had been for Crystal’s benefit. Old arguments circled through her head. How many times had Stephanie said something along those lines? That all of this was for Crystal, that she was trying to help her, make sure she was safe. But Crystal hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t asked to be coddled or protected, especially not by the one person in the world who she should be responsible for, not the other way around.

“If you don’t want to put me through it again, then the best thing you can do is stop! You’ve already died for this, you’ve done enough.”

“Technically I didn’t die.”

That was to much.

“You did to me.” Crystal refused to look away, even as Stephanie flinched slightly at the comment, attention suddenly on the ground. It was almost enough to make her relent, to push herself up and cross the kitchen to comfort her, or at the very least to sigh and let the topic dorp. But she couldn’t. Not this time. “I didn’t know it was fake. Did you even think about that before running off to Africa?”

“I wasn’t exactly in a position to think about anything.” There was a hardness to the statement, a frustration that finally broke the nonchalant attitude Stephanie had seemed so intent on. “Leslie says I agreed, but I don’t remember it. I woke up in Africa with no idea what had happened or why I was there.”

“And once you had, it never occurred to you to let me know you were okay?”

“It was weeks before I could even think clearly.”

“Weeks are better than months.” Months of drifting through a haze, failing to move. The first weeks had been the worst, yes, but the pain had never gone completely. A constant ache that was always waiting around the corner to grab her when she least expected it.

Anger was setting in, and not wanting to drive it at Stephanie, Crystal sent it spiraling at the only other element she could. “And what about the doctor you were with? What kind of woman takes a teenager halfway around the world and doesn’t tell her mother anything?”

“She was trying to help me.” The defensiveness set Crystal on edge. What had this woman done to deserve it? Ghosted Stephanie away from everyone who knew and cared about her? “After everything that happened she thought it would be best. I need time to heal and re-evaluate.”

“And after all that re-evaluating you decided to go back to doing exactly the same thing as before?” That struck at a terror that Crystal hadn’t even known was there, something she’d never truly considered. It was one thing when Stephanie was responding to what was around her, trying to stop Arthur or under Batman’s spell, but she’d had time to sit and think, and had still decided this was what she wanted to do. It wasn’t just a reaction, it was a choice.

There was a scoff from Stephanie, her arms crossed over her chest in the most definite teenager way possible, “You’re going to lecture me about falling into old habits?”

Crystal froze, the implication slowly sinking in. Fear and shame started to take root, crawling through her as she looked back at Stephanie and saw the knowledge in her eyes. The anger and disdain that already seemed to radiate off of her even without a conformation.

“Yeah, don’t think I missed the cans in the recycling. Do you have a few pill bottles somewhere to go with them?”

The words stung in a way nothing else had. Crystal wanted to argue, excuses lined up on her tongue. A friend had come over and brought themself something to drink, or she’d picked them up on a walk and tossed them when she got home. But one look at Stephanie and they died before making it out. She couldn’t lie to her about this, not after everything.

“I thought you were dead.” Was the only defense she managed. It hadn’t seemed like it mattered anymore. There wasn’t anyone there to care, no one’s life to ruin but her own, and sobriety was the trade off for dulling the pain even the smallest amount than it had been worth it. A night she didn’t remember was one less night alone. One less night full of regrets and anger and having to face the next day. And it had been easy to reason it away as the lesser of two evils, alcohol had never been her main problem. If she was drunk,well, at least she hadn’t gotten high.

It was the wrong thing to say. As soon as it had escaped, the look on Stephanie’s face warped into a scowl. Her voice shook, barely holding back the anger boiling underneath. “No.”

Crystal opened her mouth, but Stephanie cut her off. “No. You do not get to put that on me. I screwed up, but I am not responsible for how you decided to handle it.”

“You were dead.” Couldn’t she understand that? It hadn’t been hypothetical or temporary, it had been real. “I’m sorry I didn’t handle it perfectly.”

“But I had to handle being tortured to death perfectly?”

The frustration was starting to creep in again. The shame was still there, but if anything it fueled it, giving her something to be defensive about. “You didn’t have to handle it perfectly, but you should have handled it here.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Crystal had seen the body, had read the autopsy and seen those awful photos Arthur had leaked to the news. It would have taken months if not years of recovery, but they would have figured it out. One way or another, Crystal would have found a way to make it work, to make sure she had everything she-

“Because it was my fault.”

Her thoughts stopped short. “What?”

“The gang war,” Stephanie’s voice was still frustrated, but not quite as intense. “It started because of me. I organized a meeting which turned into a shoot out and started the whole thing.”

“Why would you do that?” Crystal’s brain was spinning, trying to fill in the gaps with what she already knew, but that wasn’t much. Was this when Stephanie was Robin? It must have been, but then why wasn’t Batman there?

“Does it matter?”

Of course it mattered. Intent always mattered. Steph was impulsive, but she was also clever. To clever for her own good sometimes, but clever none the less. If she’d set up some meeting than she must have had a reason, a good one, even if she hadn’t fully thought it through.

Stephanie was still talking though, and as firmly as Crystal held her resolve, she wasn’t going to stop her when she was finally getting some sort of answer. “I did, and Gotham still hasn’t recovered. Buildings are still destroyed, the underworld is still a mess. Over a hundred people died. Because of me.”

When it was clear Stephanie was done, Crystal took a breath. Then she released it, trying to let out any remaining anger or frustration she had. That wasn’t what was needed right now. “Do you think I care about any of that?”

Would Crystal have been happy about it? Probably not, but there was nothing in the world that Steph could ever do that would make her unwelcome. Nothing that would mean she couldn’t come home. Didn’t she know that?

Stephanie stiffened. Her hands clenched at her sides, and when she spoke her voice was hard again. Though there was a slight shake to it, a crack waiting to break open. “I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry I didn’t call or think to drop a note before I was whisked away. Add it to my list of fuck ups.”

The words were barely out before Stephanie was moving. Crystal pushed herself up, but the door slammed before she’d even fully risen out of her seat. Her body was humming, telling her to move, to follow. Explain, reassure, help ease whatever was causing the cracks. That was what a mother was supposed to do.

Because that had been going so well so far. All she had seemed to do was make it worse, poke at things she wasn’t supposed to until the situation wasn’t fixable. Crystal stopped, half in the kitchen half in the hall, watching the front door. Silently willing it to swing open, for Stephanie to burst back through with some other furious point she’d forgotten to make before storming out.

The door didn’t open.

Crystal took a few steps towards it, but as her hand reached the handle she stopped. This was silly. Stephanie would be long gone by now, and even if she wasn’t, she wanted space. The least Crystal could do was give it to her. There would be time to talk later, when they had both calmed down. They would figure this out, they always did.

Sighing, Crystal turned and finally started to make her way up the stairs.

Chapter Text

For six hours everything was fine. Six hours where Stephanie didn’t need to think ahead or worry about anything that was happening outside the moment. For the first time since she’d gotten back to Gotham, the first time since she’d woken up really, there wasn’t a plan. She had been able to just exist. No next step of recovery or debating if she should go back or figuring out how to tell the people she loved about the giant lie she’d been keeping.

For six hours the only thing she had to think about was being home.

Six hours before the past started to catch up with her.

The mistake had been going to bed.

Her room was almost exactly the way she’d left it. Neater, she couldn’t imagine she’d remembered to make her bed or fold her clothes before slipping out the night of the meeting, but otherwise, it was her room. The desk was littered with half finished project, the posters that covered every available wall still in place. It was actually remarkable, how well the clumps of scotch tape she’d used when decorating the walls had held up.

Stephanie forced herself through the motions of changing into pajamas. Tried to ignore how heavy the material felt (everything fit perfectly, had she really not grown at all in the last year?) and the way the posters which had once seemed so comforting now made her feel watched.

She made it as far as lying down, squeezing her eyes shut, before all the thoughts spilled in.
The drive to the hospital, Tim’s stubborn silence next to her. The joy from the day before already starting to sour as the full realization of what she’d done had started to sink in. How long before the same thing happened here? How long could she pretend everything was normal? Just squish back into a role that technically fit but didn’t feel right anymore?

This was going to break. This couldn’t last. Sooner or later her mom would get that same distant look.

Steph’s eyes flew open, letting out a shaky breath as she pushed herself up. She needed to move. Needed to go. Somewhere where the walls weren’t covered in eyes and the clothes didn’t smell like must.

The pajamas dropped to the floor as she grabbed the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier. Her shoes were still knotted, so she didn’t bother to undo them, forcing her feet to slip into the tight space. Then she was out the door and down the stairs.

The front door would make to much noise, best to go out the back. She turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead.

Crystal was still there, seated in the exact same place she’d been when Steph wet to bed, looking at her with surprise that Steph was sure her own face mirrored. Silently she cursed herself, if she’d been thinking clearly she would have seen the light spilling out into the hall. It was to late to change it now though, nothing to do but attempt to play it off. “Oh- hey. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”

“I was just thinking about going to bed,” Crystal replied, with the same brushed off tone Stephanie had given her. The shock was quick to be replaced with a small frown though as she looked her up and down. “Are you going out?”

Right. That. For a brief second Steph considered lying, but what other explanation could there be? That she’d gotten completely redressed to get a glass of water? “Just for a walk, I need to clear my head.”

That was reasonable enough, right?

Apparently not. Crystal’s frown deepened, her attention not quite focused on Steph’s face. When the response came, it was speculative, questioning. “Right.”

There was a second before it all clicked into place. Steph sighed. She supposed it was a fair concern, but was this really a fight they had to have on night one?

“Mom, it’s just a walk.” Then, in an attempt to lighten the suddenly awkward mood, she offered a quick smile, “If I was going out as Spoiler I would have snuck out the window like I used to.”

“Of course, how silly of me.”

Okay, wrong thing to say. Clearly this was not something they were at a place to joke about yet. Noted. She opened her mouth to try and smooth it over, but Crystal beat her to it “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

Steph relaxed, slipping her hands into her pockets as she took a step into the kitchen. Stress from the day, she could work with that. “It’s fine, I get it. It must be a lot ot take in.”

To her surprise, Crystal looked up at her, glancing her over again before she spoke “You seem like you’re handling it well.”

Really? Good. That was good. It meant she was pulling it off, she could make this work. She could slot back in and go back to normal and no one ever had to know how fake it all felt. She could do this. It was old hat, as easy as slipping on a jacket. Easier. Nothing was wrong, nothing to push for, no follow up questions needed. “I mean, I’ve known I’m alive the whole time.”

Which would bring them to the end of the conversation. All that was left was for Crysta to take the half-assed reassurance and let her go on her way, content to not ask any more questions and risk getting an answer she didn’t want.

“Still, it must be strange to be back here after so long.”

Stephanie shrugged, planning to brush it off again, but there was something about the way Crystal was looking at her. Concern, yes, but also more. A resolve that Steph wasn’t used to. As if for once she wasn’t going to be satisfied with the easy answer, as if she was actually asking because she wanted to know, not just to go through the motions of it. It wormed it’s way into Steph’s brain, taking hold of something she’d been ignoring for years. If Crystal wanted to know, really wanted to know, would it be so bad to let her? To admit a little bit and see where it went?

“It was at first, but I-”

The mistake hit Stephanie in the same moment that Crystal interrupted “At first? How long have you been back?”

Fuck.

Steph’s brain spun, suddenly on high alert as she shifted through the possible answers. Just a few days? Would that have been enough time for her to have grown used to being back? What was the shortest amount of time she could get away with? Maybe it would be better to admit how long it had been but come up with something else she’d been doing during the time.

“Stephanie.”

“Just a few weeks!” The answer toppled out before Steph had agreed to it, something about the sternness of the name pulling on a long dead instinct. But maybe that was okay. A few weeks was a good amount of time right? Enough to get used to Gotham again, but in the grand scheme of things what did a few extra weeks matter?

“A few weeks?”

Apparently a lot.

“What on earth were you doing?”

There wasn’t a good answer. Not one that Crystal would like in any case, which meant Steph had to dodge. Half answers that would hopefully satisfy her mom enough to let it go before they got to the heart of the matter. “I had to take care of some stuff.”

There was a flicker of realization, and before Steph could try and back track Crystal was speaking, an edge of anger to her voice. “This has to do with all those things your father dug up, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Steph blinked, trying to calibrate her brain to follow the line of reasoning Crystal was on despite clearly not having all the pieces. “What does dad have to do with any of this?”

If Crystal heard the question she didn’t show any sign of answering, already pushing forward with her own thought. “You’re getting wrapped up in all of it again. Even after everything that happened, you’re still going out there.”

There it was. The old refrain. The comment about Arthur came into focus, and with it a defensiveness bubbled up. “It’s not like that.”

Crystal wasn’t letting up any ground though, “Then what is it like?”

“There were some things I had to fix, they were my responsibility.”

As if there had been any way to fix it. Nothing would bring all those people back, nothing would rebuild Gotham. But at the very least she’d been able to help stop another psycho from taking over, that had to count for something. It had to. She’d done good. She’d made sure Penguin’s teenage armies hadn’t killed each other well he wasn’t looking. She’d helped.

“And that was more important than coming home?”

“No, but I needed to take care of all of that first, just in case…” She trailed off, watching Crystal for a moment, trying to judge if she needed to go on or if the point had hit yet.

There was a pause, enough of one that Steph had glanced away, hoping to help ease the awkward tension that filled the room. That it might give her mom time to process without being under a microscope. Then Crystal spoke, voice softer than before, in a way that told Steph she already knew the answer. “In case of what?”

Stephanie swallowed. Wasn’t it obvious? But they’d always been good at dancing around the obvious until one of them finally got frustrated enough to blurt it out. “I wasn’t going to come home and give you hope if it wasn’t going to last.”

The room froze, the full weight of what she was saying setting in. Steph watched the shift on her mom’s face from anger to pain. Part of her wanted to move, to go reassure her that she was fine, that it was over now and she didn’t have to worry. Part of her wanted Crystal to come to her, to wrap her arms around her and assure her everything was okay.

Instead, when Crystal spoke again there was a coldness to her voice, not anger exactly, but definitely not reassurance. “You thought it would be better to run off and get yourself killed without ever telling me?”

Wasn’t it better? Rather than a miraculous return from the dead just to force her to start the grieving process all over?

“Obviously that wasn’t the goal,” Steph forced her voice to stay level. If her mother wanted to get angry about this that was fine, but she wasn’t going to feed it. She’d done the right thing, she’d made the best decision, she didn’t need to prove it. “But if it did happen I wasn’t going to make you deal with it again.”

“If you don’t want to put me through it again then the best thing you can do is stop! You already died for this, you’ve done enough!”

Of course, that’s what this was really about. That was all this was ever about. Spoiler. Stephanie wanted to scream, to go through all the reasons why she couldn’t just stop. How important what she was doing was, how now more than ever she had to keep hold of it because if she didn’t what would be left?

None of it would matter though. No explanation would justify it, because Crystal simply didn’t understand. She’d never understood. The burning need to make things right that blazed through Stephanie and refused to let her do nothing simply didn’t exist in Crystal. Steph had learned a long time ago that some people just weren’t made to fight the way she was. If she could understand that and accept it, why couldn’t Crystal understand and accept that not everyone could sit by?

None of which would make any difference. It never did. Steph forced back the fire waiting on the back of her tongue and said the only thing she could think of that might be accepted. “Technically I didn't die.”

“You did to me!”

The commented echo through the kitchen. Steph shifted back slightly, eyes darting away so she wouldn’t have to face the full weight of the words. It wasn’t like it was new information, but being confronted with it now hit worse than all of those sleepless nights spent contemplating.

“I didn’t know it was fake.” There was still anger in Crystal’s voice, but also a break to it, something else struggling to make it through. “Did you even think about that before running off to Africa?”

That wasn’t fair. Not by a long shot. Some logical part of Steph was aware that Crystal had no way of knowing the details around her departure, couldn’t know just how unfair it was, but in the moment it didn’t matter.

“I wasn’t in a position to think about anything.” It wasn’t as calm as she wanted, but Steph would take it. She latched on to the frustration, letting it drive her. Anything as long as it kept her together long enough to make it through this conversation. “Leslie says I agreed, but I don’t remember it. I woke up in Africa with no idea what had happened or why I was there.”

That answered the question, but Crystal seemed determined to not let go. To keep pushing no matter how many signs Steph sent out that she wanted this to be done. “And once you had it never occurred to you to let me know you were okay?”

“It was weeks before I could even think clearly." It wasn’t going to work, but it was something. At least it kept the conversation moving, helped propel them forward and hopefully out of this topic.

“Weeks are better than months.”

Were they? By the time Stephanie had been able to really process what was happening the funeral would have passed. She wasn’t naive enough to think Crystal would have already moved on completely, but would it really have been better to let her know her child was alive but out of reach? To fill her in on every miniscule detail of Steph’s recovery when there wasn’t anything she would have been able to do to help? When she would have had to sit at home, worried, and still alone? If her daughter was going to come back from the dead, then wasn’t it better to wait till the situation was solved rather than do it by half?

Thankfully Crystal was shifted the topic before Steph had to decide which of those thoughts would come off the best. “And what about the doctor you were with? What kind of woman takes a teenager halfway around the world and doesn’t tell her mother anything?”

“She was trying to help me,” Steph parroted the statement automatically, the same response that pushed through her mind any time doubt over Leslie’s motives had started to sneak in. She’d acted in the way that she thought was best for her patient, even if it was unconventional. “After everything that happened she thought it would be best. I needed time to heal and re-evaluate.”

“And after all that re-evaluating you decided to go back to doing exactly the same thing as before?”

Spoiler. Of course. How stupid of her to think maybe they were actually getting somewhere, in the end that’s what all of this was about. That’s what it was always about, where they always ended up when they got in fights like this. But not this time.

“You’re going to lecture me about falling into old habits?”

There was instant recognition from Crystal, and despite everything a small level of satisfaction from Steph. She could leave it there, she’d made her point, but if they were going to poke every little mistake than two could play that game. “Yeah, don’t think I missed the cans in the recycling. Do you have a few pill bottles somewhere to go with them?”

To her credit, Crystal had the decency to look ashamed, and there was a pause before she finally spoke. Steph readied herself for whatever fumbled explanation was about to come. “I thought you were dead.”

The words shot through Stephanie like lightning. Her hands balled at her side, jaw clenched as she managed to mutter out “No.”

No. There were plenty of things that could be her fault, Crystal could yell at her about all the ways she’d messed up or lecture her about Spoiler, and Steph could stand there and take. Not this. This was not something she would claim. She would not be another in the long line of excuses. There were plenty of things that were her fault, but not this.

“No.” The anger was obvious now, and Stephanie didn’t care. “You do not get to put that on me. I screwed up, but I am not responsible for how you decided to handle it.”

“You were dead,” Crystal repeated, as if saying it a second time would change anything. At least there was an edge to her voice now instead of playing the meek victim of everyone else’s choices. “I’m sorry I didn’t handle it perfectly.”

Stephanie almost laughed, but there was to much anger to let it out. “But I had to handle being tortured to death perfectly?”

“You didn’t have to handle it perfectly, but you should have handled it here.”

“I couldn’t!” What wasn’t Crystal getting about that? How many times did they have to go around in this circle?

“Why not?”

“Because it was my fault!” The words fell out of Stephanie’s mouth without her consent. This wasn’t how she wanted to do this, she’d had a whole plan, worked out the best way to explain, but they’d blown by it somewhere along the line, and now it was all coming out wrong and out of order.

Thankfully, the statement seemed to take Crystal a second to process. “What?”

She was teetering on an edge now, and Steph knew all it would take was a slight push to topple her over. Her voice was starting to break, forcing her to grip desperately to the anger that was disguising it. “The gang war. It started because of me. I organized a meeting which turned into a shoot out and started the whole thing.”

“Why would you do that?” Crystal’s voice was still confused, but not as prying.

“Does it matter?” Steph wasn’t going to sit here and make excuse. Wasn’t going to lay out some sob story about Batman taking away Robin that her mother would never understand anyway. She was the one who did it. She would own her mistakes. “I did, and Gotham still hasn’t recovered. Buildings are still destroyed, the underworld is still a mess. Over a hundred people died. Because of me.”

There was a pause. Stephanie couldn’t bring herself to look over at Crystal, her attention fixed on the sink behind her, waiting for the response she knew was coming. Disbelief would be first. Anger would come eventually, disappointment for sure. And then… no. She wasn’t going to think about that. She’d deal with it when it came, not before.

There was a sigh, and than a simple, exasperated question. “Do you think I care about any of that?”

Somehow that was worse than all the imagined responses Steph had been playing in her head. The words slammed into the anger, forcing it through her grip and out of reach. Nothing she said would ever be enough, there was nothing she could do to explain or rationalize the decision she’d made. There was nothing she could say.

“I’m sorry, okay?” It was shakier than she wanted, but she couldn’t stop herself from slipping anymore. The room was getting blurry, but she stubbornly tired to keep her voice firm. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or think to drop a note before I was whisked away. Add it to my list of screw ups.”

Then she was running.

Coward.

The word blinked in her head, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. If this was the cowards’ way out so be it, she was so many other things already why not a coward too. As long as it got her out of the conversation and away from the weight of the realization crushing down on her.

The slam of the door echoed through her bones, stopping her in her tracks. Her legs were wobbly, her brain foggy. She wanted to run, to keep going until everything was behind her, but instead she collapsed on to the steps. Some stupid, silly, hope wiggled through her, that maybe, just maybe, she’d hear the door creak open.

That alone made her want to push herself up. She didn’t need to be comforted, didn’t need to be reassured it was okay when it was so obvious that it wasn’t. No one needed to chase after her. Nobody was coming, the door wasn’t going to open.

Stephanie pulled her knees up to her chest, fixed to her spot on the porch.