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She breathes awake with fire in her veins and sparks coiling in her gut. Her whole body aches, and she has the horrible suspicion she's crying.
Sitting up slowly, she holds her head in her hands without opening her eyes. Embers flicker in her mind, and it hurts. She knows it's - recalibrating, or something, making room for extra memories and trying to reconcile her life now with the life she had once lived.
It's hard, it hurts, and all she wants to do is curl up in a ball and sob. And maybe she would, if she were alone, if she was one hundred percent certainly it was safe, but -
Someone knocks on the door. Azu- Steph raises her head up and wipes at her cheeks, trying to erase the evidence. Why? something in her mind whispers. No one's going to attack you for crying.
“Come in,” she calls, wincing at her voice. The door opens softly and Tim enters, holding a glass of water.
“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, sitting at her bed and handing her the glass. She takes it greedily, wishing she could just down the whole thing but knowing that's not the smart thing to do. From experience, unfortunately. She'd rather avoid having to throw up, so she takes small sips, relishing the ice-cold water as it slides down her parched throat.
“Fine,” she mutters, avoiding his gaze. He places a hand on her arm and she looks up at him. He raises an eyebrow at her and she sighs dramatically.
“Like a bus ran over me,” she admits. “I'm sore in places I didn't think possible to get sore.”
Tim laughs. “Yeah, that's what happens when you're slammed into a wall.”
Steph blinks. Processes. Tries to sift through the too-many-memories clogging up her brain. “I,” she starts, then stops. Thinks.
“What's the last thing you remember?”
Fire, she thinks, fire and blood and ash and Zuko-
“We were on patrol,” she says slowly. “Dick and I were fighting a magic user. He hit us both, and then I blacked out.”
Tim nods, and she can see the relief in his eyes. She's not sure how warranted it is. Is she still the same girl he cares for like a sister? Or is she deranged and insane, willing to do anything to get the power she so rightfully deserves?
…But she doesn't deserve it, does she. She was horrible. She was - oh, Agni. She blinks rapidly. She can't - she can't fall apart. Not right now. She refuses.
“Jason and I apprehended Bouchard, but you and Dick both hit the wall. Hard.”
“Yeah,” she grumbles, rubbing her thigh. “I can tell.”
Tim grins, taking her hand. She squeezes back - she has to. He'll be suspicious if she doesn't. But what does she do? She's dangerous, she doesn't even know if she still has her bending, but if she does that's worse. What if she hurts them? What if her mind fractures and her words become barbed and spiteful and meant to hurt?
She doesn't want that. She loves this stupid, emotionally constipated family. But what if she can't stop it? What if she reverts back to - to that, falling apart because she was wrong about something?
She's not sure she'll be able to handle that.
“Is Dick okay?”
Tim hesitates. Steph feels her concern grow into a pit in her stomach. Everything aches and she's burning up from the inside and she needs Dick to be okay.
“Tim-”
“He's…fine,” Tim says eventually, blowing out a breath. “He woke up a few hours ago and split almost immediately.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. B still made him do a bunch of tests first.”
“Course he did,” Steph laughs. “Ugh, I'm gonna have to do them too, aren't I.”
It's not a question; of course it's not. They both know the answer. Steph groans and Tim pats her leg through the blanket. She gets why he left - probably wanted to escape the interrogation. Agni, she wishes she could do that.
“Are you good to come down? Sooner we get this over with…”
“Yeah,” she says, stretching her arms back. She winces at the dull throb. Tim gets up and watches as she swings her legs over the side of her bed and carefully stands, relying on muscle memory as two different heights and weights and centers battle for dominance.
Tim steadies her and she gives him a grateful smile. (did she ever smile like this before? open and kind and untainted with hidden agendas? she doesn't know. she doesn't want to go back to that.)
They go downstairs, Tim rambling about his latest date. Steph smiles and nods along and tries to clamp down on the fire that's threatening to burn her outside as well as her inside.
It…doesn't hurt, not quite. That's not the right word. It's not unfamiliar, either. It's like…a puzzle piece. One that was carved out of the old one and shoved into the new one. It looks like it should fit, but there are just a few differences that make it feel wrong. Or - not wrong, just…slightly uncomfortable, like a too-small pair of shoes.
And when you have a pair of too-small shoes, the only solutions are to be uncomfortable…or buy some new shoes.
But Steph doesn't want new shoes, or wherever this stupid simile is going. She wants her bending, wants to feel the heat and the burn on her skin. Bending is a part of her, and she wants to latch tight and never let go/ Is that messed up? Bending is the whole reason everything went to shit, after all. She was praised for being a prodigy, for being better than - better than him.
But what if she hadn't been? She had been bitter, even when she was better, bitter and jealous of his and their mother's relationship, how she loved him but despised her.
Back then, she thought it was deserved. Back then, she had thought: everyone thinks me a monster. So why not become one?
But did she deserve it? She was cold and brutal and mean as a child, because that was what she had been taught. She was never held gently, never told to be kind and accept kindness back. She was taught to reap fear instead of trying for love.
Parts of it, most of it was her fault, she thinks as she stands in the cave, waiting patiently for Bruce to finish running his tests. But maybe…maybe she can attribute some of it to her broken childhood. Is that fair? Can she do that? Can she shift parts of the blame off of herself and validate it, or is she just trying to get out of the responsibility?
She doesn't know.
-
Dick is…somewhere. In the middle of nowhere. A wide, empty beach on a small island. His fingers twitch and spark and he longs to let go but he holds on, grasping onto those embers with sticky hands that refuse to let go.
He widens his stance, head tilted back so he can feel the sunlight completely. It's warm and familiar and he almost feels like a cat, basking in the rays.
He breathes in. Holds. Breathes out. Holds. Inhales, holds his hand to his mouth, and exhales a thin stream of fire. He lets it putter out, the heat against his palm grounding.
He lets the sunlight wash over him, closing his eyes and digging his bare feet into the sand.
From somewhere behind him, sitting on a rock, John claps, slow and sarcastic.
“Great trick, love,” he drawls.
Dick exhales with a small huff of laughter.
“Better ones to come,” he declares, spreading out his arms. He doesn't turn around - he knows John's watching him, a cigarette in hand, eyes narrowed.
“Can't wait, darling,” John says. Dick can almost hear the smirk. He rolls his eyes but can't help a small grin. This is helping, as much as Bruce would hate to hear it. (all the better to that, really.) Maybe he owes John a favor now, and maybe he'll have to find a way to put it in words, what happened to him, because John refused to help without the promise of an explanation, but he's still here, and just his very presence, so very different from any of the others, is keeping him steady in a way that Donna or Wally wouldn't have been able to be.
Oh, they'd try, of course, but the similarities would just hurt.
He can't see Wally without thinking of Sokka, and Donna overlaps with the image of Katara in his mind, and that's not fair to them. Besides, he likes John. John is his friend. So Bruce and anyone else that ‘disapproves’ can fuck off, because Dick is a grown ass man who can make his own friends.
He's not sure what he would have done if he had woken up without his bending. He doesn't really want to think about it, either. His fire is - it's his. It warms him and it burns him and the phantom ache of the scar pulses in the sunlight. Fire is possessive. Dick is, too. He grabs on tight and doesn't let go, coaxes the flames toward him and lets it settle in him. He says a small prayer to Agni in his mind. He's not sure the gods even exist here, but if they do, then he wants to thank them, for letting him keep this. For letting him have this.
Dick brings his feet closer together and holds his palms up. He raises them towards his face, and slowly, carefully, raises a tiny ball of heat. It's basically nothing, he could do so much more, something much more complicated. This is basic even for beginners. But - Dick likes it. It's small, controlled.
It's like a tiny sun that he's holding in his hands.
He turns, walking towards John as he coaxes the ball to burn just a little larger. He lowers himself to the ground gently, and as John watches, he transforms the ball into a phoenix. The bird grows and grows, wings burning embers and ashes. He thrusts his arms up and watches the bird soar. His eyes are narrowed and his arms move to control it, but soon enough he starts to lower his arms.
The bird flies towards the sun, becoming smaller and fainter as it trails ashes in its wake.
Dick smiles tiredly. It's an apt metaphor, he thinks. He's not so arrogant as to call himself a phoenix (even though sokka has), but…burning himself out, maybe. A grand bird, prince, just trying his best but flying too close to the sun.
Is Icarus a phoenix? Did he think he'd come back somehow, some way? Did he feel himself crumbling to ashes as the sun cast its unforgiving heat on him?
Dick's not sure.
“So,” John says, blowing out smoke from his cigarette. “Am I gonna get an explanation?”
Dick sighs. “It's…complicated. I'm not really sure how…”
John holds out the cigarette like a peace offering. Dick gives a half smile to him, taking a long drag as he leans against the rock.
“Yesterday,” he starts, “on patrol, there was a magic user.”
“And you got hit by it.”
“And I got hit by it,” Dick confirms. “Knocked me out cold. When I woke up, I had all these other memories in my head, and eventually, I got it sorted, and…well…”
“So, what, like reincarnation?”
“I think exactly like that.”
“Huh.” John takes another drag. Dick can't see his face with how it's angled, but he thinks - he hopes - that John believes him. “This world? Or something else?”
“Something else.”
“That why you got fire powers all of a sudden? ‘Cause last time I checked you weren't a meta.”
“I'm a bender,” Dick says absentmindedly, dragging his finger through the sand. “Um - so there are four nations, right? Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Except Air were mostly nomads and had temples and shit, and Water was split between the North Pole and the South Pole. In those kingdoms, some people have the ability to bend.”
“Okay…”
“And there's also this person called the Avatar. One in a generation, who can bend all the elements. It was a cycle - if the Avatar was born in the Water tribes one life, then they'd be born into the Earth Kingdom the next, and then after they die it'll be Fire, and then Air, and so on and so forth. A hundred years before I was born, the Fire Nation decided to attack the Air nomads, wiping all of them out - and the Avatar along with them. For a hundred years, the Avatar was…lost, so to speak.”
Dick is quiet for a moment, focusing on drawing Aang in the sand. It looks…not the worst, he thinks, adding the forehead arrow.
“Turns out the Avatar didn't die, he was frozen in an iceberg.”
“For a hundred years?” John asks skeptically.
Dick hums in agreement. “In those hundred years, following the genocide, it was war. The Fire Nation was doing everything to…well, to take over the world.”
“Tacky,” John mutters. “And you were from there?”
Dick winces. “I was…the prince,” he admits reluctantly. “God, I was such an ass.”
It's kind of funny to think back on it now. Or maybe that's just the trauma. Sometimes he can't quite tell the difference.
“What’d you do?”
Dick bites the inside of his cheek, trying to remember Aang’s smile. He sighs.
“That bad?” John smirks. “C'mon, you can tell me.”
“Can I?” Dick raises an eyebrow. John smirks at him, and Dick grins back. “I…okay, but you can't laugh.”
“Cross my heart,” John drawls. Dick rolls his eyes.
“The Fire Nation was very big on honor, and there was a - a thing that I did, and my father - the Fire Lord at the time - told me there was only one way to get my honor back. Looking back, it was stupid, and really he just wanted to get rid of me, but he wanted me to find and bring him the Avatar - which was a wild goose chase at the time, considering he hadn't been seen in a hundred years.”
“But you threw yourself into it,” John surmises.
“Course I did,” Dick laughs bitterly. “I fully believed in him and the Fire Nation's superiority. I was an idiot.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t– "
“Oh, no, it was. I had this ship, right, and I went around looking for the Avatar. And when I finally found him…well, let’s just say I had a hella redemption arc. Over multiple seasons, even.”
John chuckles. “Well, at least you can never say you’re boring.”
Dick laughs too. “I guess, yeah.” He smiles at John. “Thank you, for this. I really do appreciate it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” John mutters, crushing the cigarette stub and shoving it in his pockets. “You ready to head back?”
“Yeah,” Dick says, taking one last deep breath. “I think I am.”
-
Steph is so fucking done with everything.
“How many more tests do you need to run?” she snaps. “You've done everything you can think of, plus you already did them all on Dick and it was the same results!”
“We still don't know–”
“Lighten up, B,” Dick says from the stairwell. He grins, ruffles Tim's hair, and throws his arm around Steph. She clamps down tight on the embers that want to dance along her skin. “We're both peachy.”
Steph snorts – who still says peachy? Dick Grayson, everyone. Dork extraordinaire. She leans into him, grateful for the break.
“Where have you been?” Bruce glares slightly. He's worried. It's sweet.
Dick arches an eyebrow. “And that's your business because…”
Steph stifles a giggle.
“Dick- ”
“Look, I get it, okay? You're worried. But I promise, we're both fine. Now I'm going to take my sister out to eat waffles, we're both going to turn our phones off, and you, sir, are going to take a nap.”
Bruce's glare increases ever so slightly, but before he can say anything, Alfred says primly, “Very good, Master Dick. I expect you both back for dinner.”
Dick gives him a sloppy salute and starts leading Steph out of the Cave. She gives him a side-eye, and as they're heading up the stairs, barely manages to contain her gasp when she feels a spark.
She looks at him, wide-eyed. Her fists curl in an attempt to stop sparks of her own from escaping.
“Dick– ”
“Hey,” he says, bumping her shoulder, smiling at her. “Wait til we get the waffles?”
She bites the inside of her cheek and nods, falling silent. Dick is – but how? They were both hit, so it does kind of make sense, but – why? Why would he take her out for waffles if he knows who she is? If he is who she thinks he is? he owes her nothing, less than nothing, even, and she kind of wants to go back to her room and cry.
“Why?” she whispers as he starts up his car.
He blinks at her. “You're my sister,” he says plainly.
And that's that, for fifteen minutes as Dick drives. Like it's really that simple. He puts on some music that Steph doesn't recognize, and she spends the drive with clenched fists, staring down at her lap and trying to think.
She doesn't understand. She hurt him so bad, hurt his friends, tried to kill him multiple times, so–
“We're here,” Dick says, nudging Steph from her thoughts.
It's nearly empty, so she grabs a corner booth, nearly hidden from the rest of the place while Dick goes to order.
“So,” he says when he gets back, sliding her plate to her. “I– ”
“I'm sorry,” Steph blurts out. “I – you don't have to accept it or - or forgive me but I need to say it because I was a bitch and I'm so sorry, holy shit–”
“Steph, hey,” Dick cuts her off, taking one of her hands in his. “It's okay. Breathe.”
“It's not okay,” she argued, tears welling up. “It has never been okay, and you still – you never – you shouldn't want anything to do with me!”
Dick frowns, this tiny thing that pulls at his lips and it's so utterly Zuko that Steph nearly gasps and has to clamp her free hand over her mouth. Her whole body is trembling.
“My sister is an amazing person who was dealt a bad hand,” Dick starts. Steph looks at him in confusion. “She had what on the surface looked like the perfect childhood, but really it only messed her up. She's so unbelievably smart, and yeah, okay, she tried to kill me a few times, but not all the fault is completely hers.”
“Zuzu,” Steph whispers pathetically.
“Lala is strong, and beautiful, and she tried to be better, after it was all over. It's – nature versus nurture, yeah? You made your choices, and people got hurt, but you started making choices to stop letting people get hurt.”
“Too little too late,” Steph chokes out.
“Maybe,” Dick concedes. “I won't tell you that it wasn't your fault at all. You hurt a lot of people.”
Steph can't breathe.
“But,” he continues, “so did I. And yeah, I changed, but I had Mom, when we were growing up, and during my exile I had Uncle Iroh, but you – all you really had was Father, and he was never really much of a father at all.”
Steph takes a shuddering breath, tears falling freely. She wipes at her eyes but it doesn't do anything–more just keep coming.
“There's nothing I can do to make up for what I've done,” Steph says quietly, her voice wavering despite her best efforts.
Dick tilts his head. “No,” he admits, and she knew it was coming but it still hurts. “No, there's nothing here, no one to make it up to.”
“I don't understand,” Steph whispers tremulously.
“You nearly ended the world, Lala,” Dick tells her softly. She flinches. “But we're not in that world anymore.”
“So there's nothing I can do,” she concludes. She breathes in, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling. Can she burn her tear ducts? Is that a thing she can do? “Noted.”
“I didn't say that. And my point is–”
“There's a point to this?” she interrupts, then cringes. Fire dances in her nerves. “Sorry–”
“There is, actually,” Dick grins. “I'm getting to it. Anyway, my point is that we're not in that world anymore. You've lived nearly two decades in this world. And hey, guess what? You're a pretty damn good hero.”
A surprised laugh escapes Steph, and it turns into a sob. Dick moves over to her side, folding her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, and she can feel the strong arms tighten. He rubs her back and holds her and lets her cry and she loves her big brother.
"Your name is Stephanie Brown. You're my little sister who's trying your best to make the city a better place, even as it fights back. We'll figure this out, yeah?"
“I love you,” she gasps out, another sob wracking her trembling form. “I'm sorry, I love you–”
“I love you too, Lala,” he whispers into her hair, kissing her head.
Soon, Steph remembers they're in public, so she does her best to pull herself together. She knows she probably looks wrecked, but it's okay. It'll be okay. Her big brother is there.
In the car, she glances at him, hugging the to-go boxes tightly.
“Do you miss them?”
Dick keeps his eyes on the road, but he lets out a breath.
“Yeah,” he says. “I do. I also miss the turtleducks,” he adds wistfully.
Steph laughs, wet and choked. “Of course you do,” she ribs lightly, “You're basically one of them.”
“I am not,” he protests playfully.
“You spent all your time by the pond.”
“Because all my other options sucked,” he pouts.
Steph considers for a moment. “Yeah, that's fair,” she says quietly.
“Hey,” Dick says, glancing at her. “I'm really glad you're here.”
“Me too,” she whispers, pressing her palms to her eyes. “I'm really fucking glad your here, Zuzu.”
"And, Steph?"
"Hm?"
"i don't forgive you," he says, and Steph freezes. "Some things just can't be forgiven. But - they can be worked through. And it was a long time ago, Azula." He smiles, warm and open, and Steph feels the fire in her settle into something a little less burning, a little more grounding.
It...actually makes her feel a little better, knowing he doesn't forgive her. But - he's right, she thinks. It was a long time ago. They'll figure it out.
-
“I promised,” Dick tells Damian, wincing. “It'll be a week at most, okay?”
“Why is Brown allowed to go?” Damian spits. “I am much more capable than her.”
Tim snorts. Damian glares at him.
Dick sighs and wonders what he did to deserve this. Was it believing in his father and chasing the Avatar? Destroying Suki’s village? Did all his bad deeds from then carry over here and that's why his siblings are incapable of getting along?
“You have school,” Dick says tiredly.
“I already know everything,” Damian scowls. “I am–”
“Damian,” Bruce cuts in, “no insulting your classmates. And Dick is right; you can't skip school for a week to go hang out with the Titans.”
“Salty much?” Dick mutters under his breath. Steph and Tim, who are sitting next to him, snicker. “And anyway, it's just training.”
“If it is just training, then you do not have to go,” Damian says, stabbing at his salad with his fork. “If those plebes cannot train without you there to supervise then they do not deserve you there.”
Dick wants to drop his head in his hands. He wants to lay down on the floor forever. With a great show of will, he does neither of those things.
“We'll be back next week,” he says calmly.
“Aw, it's okay!” Steph jumps in, eyes sparkling. “I'll bring you back a souvenir.”
And so continues the saga of Wayne family dinners ending in almost-bloodshed.
-
“It is wonderful to see you again, Spoiler,” Kory says, smiling at Steph.
Steph is so gay, holy shit.
“Just Steph is good,” she says. “Hi!”
“I’ve got the regimen all drawn up,” Dick tells Kory, handing her a folder. “Stephie and I are going to do some private training.”
“Alright,” Kory hums, a low vibrato. Holy shit. Holy shit. Ty Lee and Mai were one thing, Kory is a whole other ballpark. “Let me know if you need anything, yes? And be sure to join us for meals.”
“We will,” Dick laughs, and steers Steph away. “You hitting on my ex?” he asks once they're out of earshot, eyes sparkling with mirth.
“She’s so pretty,” Steph says, amazed. And, like, Steph’s seen her fair share of pretty girls. She is pretty. Both as her and before-her. But Kory? Kory?
“She really is,” Dick says fondly, glancing back. “She’s incredible.”
“Why the fuck did you break up with her?”
Dick laughs at that, bright and loud but not too loud and Steph is pretty sure she’s hit a nerve that Dick doesn’t want stepped on so she lets him laugh, lets him take her to an elevator and down, down to a wide open space that’s clearly meant for training. It’s beautiful.
“Speedster proof, fireproof, mostly explosion proof, seventy-percent magic proof,” Dick says proudly. “We’ve been decking this baby out since it was built.”
“Fireproof?”
“Mhm. How do you feel about running through the basics?”
Dick grins at her with an outstretched hand. Steph hesitates, glancing at the door, and Dick’s eyes fill with understanding.
“It’s set to do not disturb,” he says. “Unless it’s an emergency, no one is coming through that door until I turn it off.”
Steph breathes in, breathes out. Matches Dick’s grin. Slides into that familiar position as easy as breathing. Dick matches her, and as heat coils in her gut, she bares her teeth.
She is of fire.
She is resilient, and harsh, and warm, and there is fire in her veins and sparks dancing along her body.
She is, as is her brother, a phoenix, born from the ashes. Is she okay? No. Not yet. But , she thinks, as she and Dick begin to run through the basic forms, passing fire back and forth, she will be.
She is Azula, the insane princess of the Fire Nation. He is Zuko, the too-young Fire Lord. She is Steph, a girl who wrangled her way into becoming a vigilante. He is Dick, who paved the way for her and all the others like her, before and after.
They are Lala and Zuzu, siblings of fire, and as the room lights up with flames, she knows they’ll be okay. Together.