alwaysroomforhope | (no subject)

Steph has been in Kenya for months and there is a number she hasn't called.

Well - okay, there's a lot of them, given that she hasn't kept in touch with anyone from her former life. But one in particular. One that she keeps worrying at, like a sore tooth. She knows Barbara knows she's alive, she knows Barbara knows where she is. Babs knows everything.

Steph hasn't really felt any motivation to call but even so, she's still a little hurt that Babs hasn't made the effort either.

It's early morning in Kenya. They aren't big on clocks these days, but it's not sunrise yet. Steph does not like the dark particularly well; it's too dark. Not like Gotham's night. Out here there's nothing. Animals noises she doesn't recognise, and the stars. Way too many stars.

But she can't sleep. And for once, they're in a village that has regular electricity, and her cell phone is charged. Leslie insisted they have cell phones and Steph didn't really have any reason to argue - and tonight - this morning - she's actually about to use it.

Not that she has any idea what time it would be in Gotham. Or really cares. Barbara will be there.

It takes her a while to get through to Gotham - although it's easier than it could have been. And she's still not really sure what she's going to say when it finally starts to ring.

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There aren't many people who have the number that flashes on Barbara's screen when her earpiece chimes an incoming call. And only one of them is currently in eastern Africa, much less rural Kenya.

She's been keeping pretty close tabs, after all. Because just saving the Steph in her world was never the whole plan, and Barbara's beginning to worry that the rest of that plan is going to fall apart. So: a more careful eye than usual. Even for Oracle.

But she hasn't called because... she's been there. And sometimes the last thing you want is someone with good intentions butting into your recovery.

All of that flashes through her mind in the half-second it takes to hit the key to open the line. "Hey, you."

"Um ... hi."

Steph hesitates. She's actually talking. To Babs.

For the first time, really. She doesn't know how influential Babs was in that whole rescue thing, but she's pretty damn sure she was heavily involved.

"... um, thank you."

Barbara snorts. "Hey, fake identities are easy. I have dozens just lying around, so it was no big deal."

Because Oracle really thinks that what she's being thanked for is the help in faking Stephanie's death and getting her out of the country.

Yep.

Really.

Steph sits down on the ground, because she still doesn't have much stamina, and leans her back against the earthen wall of the house.

"Well ... thanks. For ... everything." She's still hesitant. Maybe this was a stupid idea. What would Babs know about crazy dreams, anyway?

(apart from knowing everything about everything.)

"Sure," Babs answers.

She pauses for a second or two.

"How are you holding up?"

Steph hesitates. For too long.

This tiny phone in her hand is like a little lifeline, right back to the heart of Gotham. Back to Babs, to the city, to everything she left behind. She feels, suddenly, like a fish on the end of a very, very long line.

Maybe calling Babs was a terrible idea, anyway.

"... I don't know."

Barbara's silent herself for a moment. "Yeah. I get that." She remembers.

If not for quite the same reasons as Steph.

Steph manages a small half-smile.

"Babs ... what happened to me? I mean - I know the physical stuff, obviously, but ... is there something you guys aren't telling me?"

"What do you mean?" Babs asks. Because there's no 'you guys' not telling her something. Babs hasn't told anyone.

But she doesn't want to give anything away. Doesn't... want to confuse Steph.

Another pause, almost too long.

"I know how to swordfight," Steph says, eventually. Her mouth is dry. "How do I know how to swordfight? I've never even held a sword before."

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

This is... dangerous ground. And Babs isn't entirely sure what is safe to say, and what isn't.

"Dreams," Steph says quietly, sinking back against the wall and staring at the far-too-clear, far-too-starry sky, trying not to let any emotion show in her voice. Particularly not fear.

"Really vivid. Almost like memories. They're not - real, though. They can't be."

She swallows the lump in her throat and makes herself ask it flat-out, bluntly. It's better to know.

"Babs ... was I - was it that bad? Is that why I don't remember? ... Am I brain-damaged?"

"No," Barbara says quickly.

Then, more softly, "No."

"They're... closer to memories than dreams," she says quietly.

She hides a sigh of relief.

Steph waits for a wave of relief to wash over her.

It doesn't.

Barbara wouldn't necessarily tell her, after all.

She switches the phone to her other hand, wiping sweat from her palms. "... why can't I remember them properly? I've heard of - you know, there was that one guy who woke up from a lobotomy speaking a different language, or something, and I - I mean, I just - I don't know what's going on with me, Babs. Leslie keeps talking about PTSD but that's - it's something else, I'm sure of it."

"You're right," Barbara agrees. "It's not PTSD. I mean, you've got that, too. But... that's different."

She sighs.

"Just... look. You're not going crazy, Stephanie. And... to tell you the truth I'm a bit relieved to hear that you're remembering things. Even if they don't feel like your own memories. You know?"

She hadn't killed one girl to save another.

Steph rests her head on her knees, listening to the silence. No traffic, out here. No people screaming. Nothing but wind, and occasionally animal noises that she can't even identify.

And Babs, small and crackly on the far end of a phone line, being as incomprehensible as Babs always is.

She knows something. And she's not telling Steph.

"You're not really making any sense," she points out. "I mean, I'm happy to listen to you ramble as long as you like, but it'd be great if you started telling me what's going on sometime soon."

"I think this is one of those things you find out for yourself," Barbara says a bit hesitantly. "But... I can tell you this. Keep your eye out for doors."

Yeah. That is going to be such helpful and non-cryptic advice.

Steph frowns at her knees.

"Doors."

Babs snorts. "Yeah, I know."

She sighs. "And... stay in touch?"

If she knows she could say. Steph tightens her fists in frustration.

"Yeah. Okay, Babs."

"You're going to make it, Steph. Don't forget that."

"Yeah," Steph says, quietly, not sure if Babs is even still on the line.

"I won't forget that."

Doors?