sunshine - a cassandra cain story (disabled au)
This story is requested by @wombatking; I really hope you enjoy. This story takes place in an alternate universe where Cassandra is in a wheelchair after being involved in an off-duty accident. If you find any inaccuracies in the writing of paralysis please let me know! This blog is a place where I want everyone to be properly represented. I am open to any education I can receive from those afflicted by disabilities. I would love to hear your thoughts, comments, and/or concerns. Requests are open, and thanks for reading/sharing!
sunshine - a cassandra cain story
To claim that stately Wayne Manor isn’t the most accessible building in Gotham, or perhaps even the entire eastern seaboard, is simply a false statement.
Perched atop the winding hillside overlooking the grid of alleyways lined with looming buildings straight out of the art deco movement, the mansion is littered with wide hallways and state-of-the-art elevators, along with counters and tabletops low enough to suit a seated individual. Beyond its physical features, the roof also sits above the heads of the heroes of Gotham, both in their personal and professional lives.
Although on this particular rainy day at the manor, one of these heroes was feeling a bit unlike herself.
If one asks Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown, or any other friendly face that has had the pleasure of getting to know the girl in question to describe the young woman in one word, they would all say the same thing.
Cassandra Cain is sunshine.
A radiant smile, an illustrious laugh, a gleaming personality. Cassandra Cain is quite simply a beam of light that grazes the earth.
Months had passed since the accident. Cassandra sat staring at the droplets as they slid down the polished windows, the light in her eyes unusually dim on that particular rainy day at the manor. Barbara had noticed the beginnings of this happening days prior, as the thunderclouds began to roll in for a classic Gotham City storm that lasted so long one could forget the warmth of the sun entirely.
Barbara watched from the doorway as the younger woman attempted to stroke the bottom of her feet.
The ones that had followed Cassandra through years upon years of dancing in too-tight pointe shoes, scraping her bare feet against cool concrete, and landing hard on the tips of her boots as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop.
The calluses. The ones that were finally starting to heal over.
Barbara had spoken to Cass before, about mobility and power while being in a wheelchair, and about the feeling of loss. Cassandra did not speak much during these conversations, but when she did, she spoke about feeling robbed. Of dance, of Black Bat, of purpose.
Barbara’s heart broke as she watched the girl’s connection to her past life slowly melt away.
Cassandra is never one to complain about herself. A couple grueling weeks after the accident, Cassandra regained some mobility and Babs watched admirably as the sparks in her started to return. The young woman had taken rehab like a mission to complete, and she learned and adjusted to her new situation with an air of positivity. But in passing moments like these, on particular rainy days in the manor, all alone, Cassandra slipped through the cracks.
As she watched the girl deeply enthralled in a dark moment, she cannot help but think of her own past. Opening the door to see the Joker waving a gun in her face, a long bang, a sharp pinch, then nothing. For weeks and weeks afterward she screamed and she hit and she pushed everyone away. She had now accepted and embraced who she is. And she committed herself to helping Cassandra feel the same, even when no one is looking.
She knocked twice on the doorframe. Cass whipped her head to the side with a look of distraught, only relaxing in the slightest when she registered the familiar figure before her.
Hello, she waved, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. Babs sat in the doorway, silently asking for permission to enter. She waited until Cassandra gave a curt nod and pushed herself forward, making sure to close the door behind her.
She sat adjacent to Cassandra for a long moment, joining her in tracing the swirling paths as the water slides down the spotless glass.
Barbara thought for a moment.
“Would you like to dance?” She asked, holding her breath as she watched a small shimmer of hope illuminate in the girl’s eyes. But as soon as it appeared, the glimmer faded away.
“I can’t.” Cass signed, not trusting her voice, “Not anymore.”
“I don’t believe that.” Barbara whispered, pulling herself backwards into the clear expanse of Cassandra’s bedroom floor. She whipped out her phone, connected to the bluetooth speaker sitting on the vanity, and extended her hand as the soft tune of piano mingled with the rhythmic thuds of the storm against the rooftop.
Cass hesitantly wheeled closer to Barbara. After a beat, she placed her shaking hand into Barbara’s accepting grasp. The original Batgirl moved with ease, circling around Cassandra in a graceful motion. The younger girl couldn’t help but sway back and forth to the music as Barbara returned to her gaze.
The two women smiled. Cassandra brought her hands above her head, stretching far into the air, and let out a breath. She exhaled insecurity, hatred, and loathing. And as she opened her eyes to see Barbara bouncing her head to the beat, she inhaled the positivity lining the room.
The pair danced until the old hours of the afternoon. And Cassandra could not help but smile, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the dark clouds on that particular rainy day in the manor.
