onewhoisall | (no subject)

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Her fingertips press against her face, sliding and scraping over tired skin as she stares at too bright sun through the gap in her curtain. Rolling over her legs twist and tangle within the blankets, burrowing briefly for a moment before she shifts, irritated and hot and, onto her back. Her body was still sore, still aching, she should rest... staring at the ceiling, Cassandra remained still for another moment before moving suddenly.

She would rest later. Train now. Do... something.

Padding quietly across the floor, Cass grabbed the hem of an overly large shirt as she padded into the hall. Stretching up onto her toes as she shifted her bare arms over her head, Cass walked through the living area nose twitching slightly at the familiar sight. Dropping the shirt onto the counter, she bent down for a carton of juice before reaching up for a glass. Eyes glancing to the edge of her vision, she grabbed another glass before placing it on the counter.

"How love have you been here?" Cass murmured quietly, fingertips reaching behind her for his t-shirt before dragging it over her naked body. Raising an eyebrow, she pushed the glass across the counter. "Hn, what are you watching?"

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He doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch when she slides the pads of her fingers against his skin. Her hand brushing across and up to his elbow before curling around his arm. She slides her hand back down to his fingertips before tugging her hand gently out of her grasp. She holds his hand leaning forward and shifting so that his hand is closer to her chest before she tugs his hand to the t-shirt and the scar on her shoulder.

Ragged edges, circular, gunshot wound. For flinching, for reacting, she got the one in her thigh for reacting to the first one. She soon learned not to react to pain.

"My father gave me this to teach me when I was six... it wasn't the only one." Cass murmured softly. "Haven't we all died and been brought back?"

"And I'm sorry, but until you've been ritually tortured and sacrificed... no. We all haven't."

I run my finger along the scar, feeling the smoothness of it and it brings back so many memories of my own scars. You can't see them anymore, but I know they're there, metaphorical as they are each one is a memory carved into my flesh of the monster I am. Somehow, I don't see her scars quite the same way. They don't make her monstrous, just that she's been hurt.

"Then he's monstrous, not you," I say. I could match that story with one of my own. My own "father" shot me as I fled, but I am fucked up and I don't want to make that parallel between us. I know monsters and she isn't one.

"Besides. They look good on you. Suit you."

What else could you call the bruises and broken bones that she and Shiva had caused each other? Some people would call it torture, the way that she had played with her but Cass called it a lesson, a dance. She had been willing to die, she hadn't understood but she understood it now with her own dying breath. She knew what death felt like, not just through others eyes but her own.

"He's..." Her feelings were conflicted on her father. She hated him, she hated everything he was and would always put herself between him and his target but she loved him. She loved him. He was her father, she loved him and she wanted him dead. "He was teaching me how to kill. I'm as much a monster as he is."

She had killed.

Her fingers moved quickly, darting to his face as if to hit before she turned her fingers soft tapping his cheek lightly with perfect control. "You looked."

Like I said, I know monsters and this girl isn't one. Whatever her dad did to her though made her think she was one and that makes me angry. People who have a chance at a normal life should be given it. I never had a chance, I was created a monster, no one who wasn't really like that should have to feel that way.

She makes to hit me but I'm oddly getting used to her quirks, so much so that I don't flinch and I'm not surprised when it's a soft touch.

"Do you kill?" I ask. I know she's a good person, but I think good people can kill and still remain good people. Soldiers and cops do it. Not without a struggle, but I know they do.

"And you knew I would look."

Her eyes dropped down away from his gaze as her eyelashes kissed her cheeks in shame. Her fingertips brushed softly against his cheek before she shook her head. Guilt, shame, fear. Fear of what she could become if she allowed it, if she allowed the anger and the guilt to be all she was. She sought redemption not vengeance. Not like the others, not like Bruce.

"No... not anymore. I don't kill," Cass murmured soft, though it was hard. Killing was as easy as breathing, not killing required thought and concentration and control. "No. People don't look at me."

Not like that. Not since... ashes. It was all ashes and dead bodies.

"Every time I stop a mugging or something I have to force myself not to kill them," I say, not sure why I'm so comfortable sharing that with her. Maybe because she's so quiet I figure she won't blab it to anyone.

"It would make things easier. Most of them deserve it and I spent most of my life killing so easily it just... It comes natural."

And that's the problem. Not killing is hard work, further proof that I'm a monster. Who goes around constantly struggling to not kill people.

I reach down and run my fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her eyes. For someone who's as good as she is, she looks surprisingly vulnerable. It makes me wish I was better at comforting.

"They're stupid not to look."

"As easy as breathing, easier. Muscle memory," Cass murmured, understanding the feeling. She had to be in control because she didn't want to be like her father. She wanted to be good, she wanted to be better than him. She couldn't and she wouldn't kill but she had to teach herself how not to everyday. It was hard and sometimes she did not think Bruce understood. Not really. "It's hard not to kill them, it's hard not to be who I was."

Cass looked up startled by the movement, soft and gentle, through her hair. He brushed it out of her eyes, making her look at him curiously and cautiously. "Maybe you're stupid to look, I'm dangerous."

"Muscle memory," I say, wishing that's all I had to deal with. I have no doubt it's hard on her to have to override their instincts like that, but I'd rather have that than this rage inside of him. I don't just remember killing, I want to do it.

"Is that why you help people? To make up for what you've done" I ask, although that's as good as admitting that's why I do it.

"And you think I'm not dangerous?" I ask as I continue to play with her hair almost absently. It's soft and fine and almost feels like silk against my fingers.

Her lips parted softly, tongue pressing against her bottom lip as she considered his question. Looking up at him, she nodded before pressing her lips together. Was it that simple? No. But it was the truth.

"Yes. I can't- I can't ever make up for what I did. But I can stop others, stop them for making the same mistakes I made." Cass murmured, voice rough as she furrowed her brow watching the way his fingers play with the ends of her hair. Gentle when they were both made of sterner, rougher things. "No, not to me."

She reached out, touching her fingertips against his jaw before sliding down his neck watching him curiously.

"You don't think someone can make up for their past?" I ask.

I don't know if I can ever make up for what I did. Actually, I know I can. I've done too many horrible things to ever right that many wrongs. But I have to believe that I can at least make up for a little bit, otherwise what's the point?

"And I'm dangerous to everyone close to me," I say, releasing her hair and letting it fall back down.

"No, no I can't but that doesn't mean I should stop. Nothing will ever change what I did but I can change what I do." Cassandra murmured. She never spoke, she never spoke more than she had to but when it came to who and what she was there was an elegance in words that could explain how she felt. "I can be better, I can make a difference."

Bruce had taught her that, Barbara had as well. They had shown her that she could be more than what she was created to be.

Cass turned her head, leaning forward as he dropped her hair. Her fingertips brushed down his neck before she shook her head. "I can handle danger."

"So can I," I say, shivering a bit at her light touch. It's something I haven't felt in a long time and it's a very foreign feeling. Usually I'm dealing with no touch at all or very violent touch. Not a lot of middle ground.

"But I think you have the danger under control. You're not an animal. Not wild. You're controlled."

Unlike me. Most days I feel more animal than human, a monster walking around in a man's face. At least before this I looked the part of a monster.

He shivers beneath her fingertips, just enough so she notices it. Turning her head curiously, she traced her fingers up the side of his neck before drawing them down his chest until her fingertips were placed over where his heart lay.

"Yes, I suppose I am. It is hard work, you have to work at it." Cass murmured, looking at him curiously. "You're not an animal. You are controlling yourself now, aren't you?"

I'm bothered by the touch because it feels too good. Too nice. Too... kind. I'm not sure what to do with that. That said, I make no movement to stop the touch, not even as the goosebumps raise along my skin.

"I don't want to kill you," I point out. Even a dog will be happy if you scratch its belly.

Her lips twitched, breath exhaling in a soft quiet noise. Leaning forward, she looked at him with a small smile she rarely shared with anyone.

"You could try, you would not succeed. You wouldn't kill me," Cass murmured, drawing her hand down his chest. He was warm beneath her hand, the fabric rough in her hands as she leaned forward a little, her lips parted as she looked at him carefully.

"Maybe," I say, giving her a bit of a smile back.

I can feel my heart beat faster as she slid her hand across my chest. It was a slow movement, more exploratory than teasing which was good because I'm not sure what I would have done if I thought she was teasing me.

"But I wouldn't try. Like your smile too much."

Her lips twitched, relaxing and smiling a little more at the small smile he returns. She pressed her hands against his stomach, fingertips stretching down and up against the warmth of his body before she looked up at him.

"Hn, do you?" Cass asked curious, pressing her tongue against her bottom lip. Leaning forward she moved closer to him, turning her head so she was close to him. Her breath on his cheeks, his jaw. "Like my... smile?"

I would have squirmed except for the fact that I was worried she would take it the wrong way. She seemed to be pretty comfortable with touching wherever she wanted and strangely enough I didn't mind.

When she leaned in closer, lips almost brushing against my skin, I was momentarily at a loss for words. All I could think of was how nice this all felt and how long it had been since I felt this nice.

"You have a very nice... smile," I finally manage to say, one hand trailing along her spine.

Her hand twisted in the fabric of his clothes, pushing up so the top of her wrist brushed against his bare stomach. Pressing her fingertips into his stomach, she slid her hand up over his clothes curiously. His hand was at her back, moving along her spine and making her draw in breath.

"Do I?" Her voice was a hint of breath, wanting, as she brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

I pulled her a bit closer and turned my head so my lips brushed against hers. Her hands felt good against my skin, even if he sensation did make me groan and tremble just a bit. It was in a good way though and I tried not to think about how crazy this was.

"Mmmmm, you do..."

He trembled beneath her hands, groaning as she touched him. She smiled, cheeks flushing with colour as he turned his head and ran his lips over hers. She pulled away slightly to look at him. He had kissed her. She pressed her hand beneath his shirt, fingertip pressed against his skin in a gentle warning.

Wait.

Reaching up to touch his face with one hand, she pressed her palm against his cheek softly before brushing her lips against his a little more sure now. Lips parted she exhaled shakily before she leaned in to kiss him.

When she pulls back, I wonder if I did something wrong. I hope not, because she seems pretty damn clear on what she wanted but I could be wrong. It's not like I have a lot of experience in these sort of situations.

I'm content to just wait though. Her touch feels good and she feels nice pressed up against me, almost curled into me. The solid comfort of someone close is good.

When she kissed me again though, less hesitant this time, I kissed back more. Not hard or passionately, but without hesitation and eager for more.

He waits, waits for her as she slides her fingertips up his chest beneath the borrowed shirt. Her fingertips, rough and worn, cover his heart as she leaned into his body to kiss him. No hesitation.

She sighed a soft moan, lips parted softly as she drew him closer to her. Her hand curling around the back of his neck as she kissed him a little harder. This was not a battle, not a fight but she is not gentle or fragile she won't break.

I can't help but react with interest. Being alone gets old after a while and you crave some sort of connection, even if you know you don't deserve it. Cassandra feels like a kindred spirit for some reason. Or maybe it's her inquisitive nature that I'm drawn to. Or it might just be because I've seen her naked.

Whatever it is, I'm wanting more. More kissing and more touching. More contact. More of her.

I pull back some and pull my shirt off over my head. I want as much contact as possible and when I pull her close again I kiss her hard and deep.

Her cheeks flushed as he pulled back, shifting a little as her gaze dropped down to his stomach as he tugged his own shirt off. Cassandra turned her head curiously, watching him with parted lips for a moment before he pulled her close and kissed her. Hard, no control, freefalling. It felt like that, it felt good.

Moaning into his mouth, she shuddered and curled one hand tight around his shoulder as she parted her lips. Pulling back, she exhaled as she shifted and slid onto his lap before leaning back into kiss him. His t-shirt, sliding higher up her thighs as she pushed him back into the couch and leaned into his body.