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The hand in hers is shaking. Stephanie understands why.
She hadn’t known. She hadn’t - no one had told her, and she has been away for so long, and now—
And now—
Stephanie breathes. She can’t keep dwelling on the situation and brooding about it - brooding is Bruce’s job, not hers, never hers. She will not let herself sink as low as Bruce.
Besides, Damian needs her right now. He needs her to be strong and sure of herself and not hesitant and ready to run away.
(Some voice in the corner of her mind whispers that Damian is not the only one needing her, but she chooses to ignore it despite how true it sounds.)
“You’re ready?” she asks, her gaze finally ending up on Damian and taking him in.
Her little brother is still shaking, his hand squeezing hers, his face a bit pale, but he stands as straight as usual, eyes locked on the door in front of them.
He doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t push it; she simply waits, with all the patience of the world, for him to confirm or deny her words. Finally, Damian nods, still quiet but determined, and her heart bursts under all the love and the pride she feels right now.
She bends just long enough to plant a kiss on Damian’s temple and then she straightens herself, too.
“Then, let’s do it.”
They enter the bar, hands into each other, in search of their missing piece.
.
.
.
Stephanie’s eyes quasi immediately lock into the owner’s own. She’s tall, her lips turning into a worried line at their sight, black skin glowing under the light, as much as her gaze.
Steph smiles at her, but she doesn’t return it. It’s alright, though - she understands.
(She wouldn’t smile either if she had only heard of Batman - or Bruce.)
She lightly squeezes Damian's hand, and turns her steps toward the counter.
The owner watches them approach with more and more wary in her eyes, but yet again Steph can’t hold it against her. If anything, it actually gets her on Steph’s good side, so it’s not that bad, she guesses.
As usual and as drilled into her as it has been, she has looked around while entering, taking in the clients, the decor, the owner, everything she could place her eyes on. It was nice, definitely not crowded at this time of the day outside of the usuals, with a warmth that can come only from the owner herself. They got some curious looks, but they’re two mismatched people on a mission and it shows; no one tried to talk to them and Steph is glad for it.
Damian is probably even more glad. He’s not shaking anymore against her, but she can feel his unease and latent fear.
She caresses the back of his hand with her thumb as a reassurance just as they reach the counter and the woman behind it. She looks at them with calculation, and Steph keeps her smile on.
“Hi,” she starts, because her mother always insisted on politeness. “I’m Stephanie, and this is Damian. We would like to see Ric, if it’s possible. I know we should have called first, but we didn’t really have a lot of time here, so, yeah, we’re here. Also, Kori said it should be fine? She apparently likes you, which is proof enough for me that you’re a good person, I mean, everything else was saying it but, you know, I like trusting the judgment of people I know, and- Oh I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
She stops, eyes a little wide maybe, and Damian looks at her with something else than the near-apathy of these last days, finally, and something akin to annoyance, maybe.
And the owner - Bea, her name is Bea - looks at them, a bit softer now - a change from her earlier demeanor upon seeing strangers with ties to the looming bat. So maybe the Kori name dropping and Steph's rambling had been for the better.
“Kori says that?” Bea asks, and her eyes are a little dreamy and her cheeks a little pink, and really, fair, Steph totally gets why. “Anyway. What do you want with Ric, actually?”
Steph opens her mouth - there are a lot of answers to this question, actually - but Damian beats her to it.
“We just want to see him,” he says with a voice way too quiet to be his, but Dick’s... disappearance (to put it in a word) in their lives has hit the kid in a profound way, different from them. Something they can’t quite get, they won’t ever get, probably. “He’s- He’s important, to us, and-”
His voice breaks, and Stephanie takes over with all the sincerity she has inside her pouring through her words. “We’ll like to get to know him again. We want to be a part of his life, if he agrees to it, of course.”
Bea looks at them, and—
She considers it, really does, and it seems like a victory enough for Steph.
She has read all the books and all her notes on trauma recovery and amnesia and how to treat victims, but she also knows that nothing is like the real deal. That in front of Ric - no longer Dick, and she has to keep it in mind - she’ll stutter and hesitate and make mistakes, probably, but she has to do better, to think of him first, and of Damian, and she can do that. She can.
Dick was the one to tell her you can choose your family, and she has seen how he has always chosen his, again and again and again. She has been part of it, time and time again, and—
And he’s part of hers, Ric or Dick alike, and she’s intent on proving it.
“We can give it a try, I guess,” finally says Bea. “Just for this time. And if Ric doesn’t agree—”
“We’ll leave then. I promise.” Bea judges her before relaxing under her gaze. She seems reassured, and Steph feels it too.
“Follow me, then.”
Steph suddenly has a lump in her throat, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. She had planned for the whole thing, of course, but— But somehow, it hasn’t felt real until now, until she’s on her way to meet her brother for the first time in months, and all the preparation is nothing compared to the rush of adrenaline, the fear, the anticipation.
Beside her, Damian looks as sick as she feels. She squeezes his hand, just when he squeezes hers, and a smile creeps up on her face at the gesture.
It’s not enough to totally appease her, but it will do. She sends a look at Damian; he looks ready, too.
His gaze meets hers, and he nods again, still determined, and she smiles more softly, more tenderly, maybe.
Then, they follow Bea into the upper level of the building.
.
.
.
Stephanie loses everything when the door opens. Her composure, her breath, the planned words in her mind, maybe a few tears she hasn’t known stuck on the edge of her eyes.
“Richard,” Damian says quietly, and that’s what brings him to look at them.
He has the same eyes as usual, but lacking the recognition in it; his hair is way shorter than how she ever saw him with; but the rest is still the same. The build, the body, the relaxed way he bounces on his feet, the smell of what he was cooking, even the so simple clothing he always used to wear.
He’s curious, but not outright hostile, which is another victory in Steph’s books. Stupid Bruce.
“Hi,” she says again, and then loses her breath again as he unfolds himself and greets them with a smile.
It’s the I’m glad to see you smile. The You’re important to me smile. The You’re family smile.
Stephanie isn’t sure Ric is aware of it. He probably isn’t. They - her, and Tim, and Cass, and then Damian and Jason and Duke - used to categorize each of Dick’s smile, and this one—
This one has always been their favorite.
(She was so sure she would never see it again, and yet—)
“Hello,” Ric says, and his tone is a little wary like Bea at the bar, and Stephanie can breathe again.
“I’m Stephanie,” she introduces herself again. “And it’s Damian.”
Ric hums and comes closer to them. His gaze searches them, pinning them to the ground with it, and Steph realizes she doesn’t really want to escape. Not if it means her brother is right here.
“I saw you back then,” he finally says, eyes locked on Damian, and the kid nods quietly, pressed against Steph’s side in an obvious fear of rejection.
But Ric’s eyes are soft, not furious, and a knot in her heart slowly unravels. He quietly reaches his hand, and when no one stops him, ruffles Damian’s hair. Damian lets out a half-choked noise, and when Ric opens his arms for him, the kid throws himself against their big brother.
(His dad, a corner of her mind whispers again, but Stephanie doesn’t need anyone to tell her this truth.)
She watches them hug and ignores the longing in her chest, even when Ric looks at her knowingly. He carefully maneuvers Damian so he’ll rest against one of his sides before reaching out again.
This time, his hand lands on Steph’s cheek.
“You’re my sister,” he doesn’t ask, and invites her in the hug in one little gesture.
It’s good to feel him against her. She missed it so much.
“Sorry,” she says. “I wasn’t here when it happened and— Couldn’t stop the stupid asshole.”
Ric snorts, and he strokes her hair, and she buries her head a little more against him.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” It’s so typical of him that she let out a half-laugh half-cry. He doesn’t mind, and neither of them comment on Damian crying against them.
“I missed you,” she says again, and this time she looks up to him, and sees his quiet, careful gaze, and she knows deep down in her guts that she can’t let go, not ever again. “I want to get to know you again. I want to be a family again. Please.”
Ric’s gaze is warm and soft and tender and all the kind of loving she has shown her before. He presses a kiss into her forehead and rests his head against hers and she bathes in the feeling of a missing piece sliding back into place.
“I would love that,” her brother says, and Steph lets herself be lulled into a second chance she has been too afraid to dream of.