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Do you ever think of me and my two hands, and wonder why?
They never soothed your fevers
And wonder why
They never tied your shoes
And wonder why
They never held you gently
And wonder why
They never had the chance to lose you
Stephanie has never thought, and will never think, of Damian as her child. He’s a child, sure. Bruce’s child, Dick’s child, Talia’s child. But not hers.
He’s her little asshole younger brother. But sometimes when she sits beside him— like now under the soft light of the sun shining through the curtain in the Manor’s library as she watches him write a letter to send to his mother— she feels a deep, almost indescribable emotion well up inside her.
Not for him, but for Talia.
Despite his assassin upbringing and the fact that Talia is literally the Demon Head’s daughter, Stephanie can’t help but feel a sort of sympathy for Talia al Ghul. Or maybe not sympathy, empathy might be the right word? She’s not entirely sure, Jason’s the wordsmith of the family, but Steph knows that in these little moments she feels for Talia.
She shouldn’t be able to— their situations were totally different after all— but Steph still felt a sort of connection with Talia. They had never even met, and maybe that’s why Steph feels this way sometimes. She’s never actually seen Damian interact with his mother, just heard about her from him and the others and watched as Damian wrote letters to her because while they communicated via phone all the time, they both also loved sending letters.
Maybe if Steph spoke with her, even once, she might get an idea of what it’s like to see herself reflected in another person for a bit. Or maybe not, their situations weren't really comparable.
Steph was a teenager: unprepared and scared to bring a child into the world and even more terrified of raising that child in the world of vigilantism. Other heroes, like Roy Harper, had made it work, but Steph knew that in her situation the best thing for her baby was to give them up.
Talia is a dangerous assassin who raised Damian herself for ten years, she’s capable and cunning and powerful. Steph can’t ever imagine her being scared. But maybe she too had looked at her baby and made that hard decision to let him go because it was what was best for him.
Some days Steph doesn’t think of her child at all, and other days they’re all she can think about.
Sometimes when she hears that the flu is going around Damian’s school, she thinks of her baby and wonders about their health, hopes their family is caring for them properly. When Damian graduated from velcro to laces, she wondered if her child’s going to learn the x-y-z method or the bunny ears method first.
When she watched Damian write letters to his mother, even though he could have just emailed her the same words because he knows Talia loves having physical proof of him— his writings in Arabic and English with the drawings and whatever little doodles he adds in the margins, Steph can’t help but wonder if her child will ever think of her. Wonder about her. Seek her out.
Stephanie knows that she made the right decision for herself and for her child, and she knows partially from things Damian has said offhandedly in conversation and partially from what she can infer from whatever context the others give, that Talia believes the same about her child. But the right decision is usually never the easiest, and she can’t help but wonder sometimes if it ever gets easier.
Maybe when Steph meets Talia— and it will be a when because she’s far too stubborn to be left out of the trip to Nanda Parabat Dick’s planning so he can kick Ra’s al Ghul’s ass for messing with Tim— she can ask her if it gets easier.
Or maybe not, Talia’s still a badass assassin who would most definitely kick her ass in a fight.