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On the southeast edge of the island, there's a little cove set off from the rest of the beach that gives swimmers all the privacy you could want. No doubt other people have found it through the years, but today it's all theirs.

The day is gloriously hot, and Steph's plans to lay out with a book are promptly abandoned. She's scaling an outcropping of rocks in a little purple polka-dot bikini, so much tanner and blonder than she could ever get in Gotham. Shading her eyes against the sun, she looks over at Cass. "Coming in?"

There is glitter everywhere. On her clothes, trailing all over the yard, and somehow clogging the shower drain even though she's pretty sure she hasn't used her speedy powers there. She's going to be cleaning up for weeks, and Steph doesn't even care at all. Because with the glitter trails come with the super speed, and it turns out super speed is totally awesome.

There's no reason to have these powers, but damn if Steph isn't going to enjoy them while they last. If it means leaving a sparkly silver glitter trail wherever she goes like some kind of supersonic princess, well, as far as drawbacks go it's not so bad.

"Cassssssss." She starts off in the house she shares with Damian, but by the time she finishes that last 'sssss' she's dashed over to Cass' place to knock one-two-three at the door. Plus, she manages to actually stop in time to come right before the door instead of crashing into it like she had the first day. She has to give credit to Bart, the super speed definitely takes more skill than just running normal style.

The other drawback is that time seems to move really sloooooowly. "Caaaaaaaass," she whines and knocks again. It's been like five seconds, but it feels like she's been waiting here about two hours. "Let's hang out, let's go running, let's see who can do the most cartwheels, c'mon, super best girlfriend, let me hug you and cover you with glitter."

She tries to tell herself that Rapture's no big deal, just like Gotham, but she can't convince herself. Probably because it's basically a corpse of a city being picked over by super-powered lunatic drug addicts and the few sane people left alive down here. But how sane can they be, really, to willingly stay down here?

Then again, Steph has a life up in the sunshine and keeps willingly coming down here, so how crazy does that make her? It's impossible not to want to explore, and that was even before Lydia went missing. Now she needs to be down here. Maybe it's not Gotham, but Batgirl can do some good.

"So, Cass, it's you and Bart and me and Cissie, right?" She's talking just to talk as the bathysphere docks into Rapture and begins to open. "Us dangerous blondes together. Meet back here in an hour?"

She's on the job but not actually on the job, because it takes work to pull off an thirty-million dollar heist. Surveillance can be booooooooring sometimes but that doesn't mean it's not important, and being the sidekick means getting stuck with the crap jobs. Plus, practice makes perfect and Steph intends to be perfect.

But hour three into the stake-out of the warehouse where Pizulli's goons are holding the platinum and Stray's getting bored. The guard pattern was easy enough to learn and the fancy binoculars means she's got a good look at what the security measures inside look like. Now it's just a waiting game to see if anything changes and finding ways to amuse herself.

"Oh, Perry, you know I love you but I also love football," Guard A says to Guard B, or so Steph says in a deep voice as she watches them from a rooftop two blocks away. "My greatest dream has been to be a professional mascot and you can't stand in my way."

It's going to be a long night.

Manhattan has all the skyscrapers and rooftops of Gotham but a surprising lack of gargoyles. It's as if the city wasn't designed for people to lurk above it. Also: way fewer abandoned amusement parks, broken down toy factories, anything that just screams 'build an evil lair inside me'. Steph hasn't checked, but she's positive that the only crocodiles living in the sewers are not human mutants who also serve as mob enforcers. She doesn't know if the lack of these things makes her like New York or miss Gotham even more.

Her sight-seeing has been strictly ground level thanks to her injuries, which had induced a major many-day pity party earlier in the month. A real city with real rooftops and she couldn't go swinging in it, so so unfair. It still sucks, but Steph's mostly over it now. She is a bounce back kind of girl.

The compromise has been finding the best building with roof access that's high enough to give a good view. Also the one with the best security, just to give herself a challenge. She manages it, of course, total piece of cake thanks to her stealthy ways, and at the appropriate hour slips onto the rooftop. She's still on crutches but moves on them like a pro by now and is all decked out for the winter weather with more scarf and hat than any one person could ever need.

All ready for date night.

She's never been to New York City before and Steph wishes it had come at any other time. It's hard to be a tourist on crutches but that's nothing compared to all the vigilante adventures curtailed by her injuries. All the other Bats and Birds are spending their nights swinging on rooftops while she...doesn't.

It puts a damper on the whole Christmas adventure, though it's still great to be in the city for a while. There is nothing like going to sleep to the sound of traffic, the urban lullaby. And being injured made for the perfect excuse for lots of lounging. Lounging + modern food + endless cable tv = a very happy Stephanie Brown.

It's after noon but she's still in her PJs as she lies on the couch idly flipping through the channels. There's a reality show marathon on Bravo that looks promising though Crocotopus on SyFy is particularly tempting. Maybe at some point she should put on a bra and go out to get food but, eh, there's ice cream in the freezer and it's Christmas break. If that's not an excuse to lie around watching trashy tv then she doesn't know what is.

Four hours in October 31 and so far nothing in the woods more dangerously than a jumpy Batgirl. It isn't just Black Mask she's watching out for, during preparation they had studied the list of fear and potential threats that could show up. But it's 4 a.m. and whatever storms on their way haven't arrived yet.

The waiting is the worst part: months of sick anticipation and, surprise, now the day is here and she still has to wait. Any other day and she'd take the glass is half-empty approach--only twenty hours to go!--but every minute that goes by just brings her closer to the edge. They'd set up a map of patrols and a timetable, it had been so efficient it was adorable but Steph had known it was ultimately pointless. Black Mask is coming for her. Last time she'd just been a fun distraction and now she is to be the main event.

"Just come on already," she whispered as she started a circuit around the outlying huts of the island's north ends. Her stomach is a hard miserable knot and whatever food she'd managed to eat in the last day has long since been thrown up. Even in the cool pre-morning darkness Steph can feel a trail of sweat making its way down under her cowl.

She forces herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. When she opens them again he's there. Even if she can't see him, her skin prickles in that exact same dread. Steph freezes up, just for a moment. Long enough that if he'd been aiming to kill her he might have succeeded.

But that was always the worst thing about Black Mask. He never wants to kill before he's had his fun. A crowbar to the back of the head knocks her to her knees, and there's just long enough to realize he has her before everything goes black.

Nothing is so sweet as the days after school ends, never mind that school's optional or that Steph actually likes her classes nowadays. Vacation is still vacation, and it's awesome. She's determined to enjoy it. It doesn't matter if she's seeing Black Mask more and more every day or that Halloween's getting closer. Scared and maybe a little crazy isn't all she is, and Steph refuses to let the spectre of him ruin the good things.

But all that grit and stubbornness doesn't seem to persuade her unconscious mind, so nightmares. She's basically been elected mayor of Nightmare City the past few weeks, no matter how much meditation or clearing of the mind she does before bed. It sucks, but she's coping. Most nights she even manages to fall back asleep. But those early mornings when the sun's already started to come up by the time she sits up with a gasp Steph just throws in the towel and rolls out of bed.

Today's one of those days, and it was a bad one: Black Mask with his knives but this time she was strapped down to a hospital bed and the doctors were just standing there watching, like they knew she was bad, like she deserved it. But she's here and alive, screw you dream doctors, and she's totally earned to start the day with comfort carbs.

It's still relatively early when Steph comes back to her room, where Cass spends most nights now, with a big plate of waffles in hand. "Wakey wakey, my little black bat. I've come bearing delicious goodness," she says and sits on the edge of the bed, then spears a waffle and waves it tantalizingly in front of Cass's sleeping face. It might possibly be a little obnoxious.

It hurts all over, so much and so suddenly that she's taken aback by the onslaught of pain. She's gone soft on the island where she's got used to bruises and training injuries but not anything deeper. And it's been a long time since someone who's loved her has hit her.

Stephanie opens her mouth to say something, anything and uselessly bring her arms up to protect her face. Before she can do either there's a yank and the next time she opens her eyes it's to the familiar beams of her bedroom ceiling.

Her limbs twitch- the limited flails of someone jerking roughly out of a deep sleep. Instinctives still screaming that there's danger, that it's not safe, but Steph forces herself to stay still and take a survey: she's on her back in her own bed, no one's punching her, limbs are stiff but not actually in pain. Cass is still beside her. They're home.

She takes a shaky breath in and lets it out slowly, trying to calm her racing heart.

Batgirl is standing on the edge of a rooftop and watching the ghostly populace of London hurrying through the cold winter evening. She's on her own tonight. Usually there's a game of tag with the other Batgirl between patrols or pestering Robin, but not tonight. Sometimes a vigilante has to do the lone wolf thing, even though she is normally all about the teamwork.

The rooftop's her favorite that's she's found so far with a perfect view of a busy intersection and a little bit out of the wind, even if there is a distinct lack of gargoyles to perch upon dramatically. Her costume" is not exactly built for frosty weather, but then neither were Dick or Jason's and they managed. At least she's got thick, long socks on and sensible combat boots, no pixie shoes here.

It's not like there's a lot of crime to be stopped, or much of any to be precise. Maybe there are phantom pickpockets, ghostly muggers and shadowy criminals and murders preying on the city, with an equally spooky Scotland Yard tracking them down, but none that the corporeal Batgirl can interact with or put a stop to. It's occurred to her to wonder just what she and the rest of the island people look like to the rest of the city. Maybe they're the ghostly ones, and she's Casper than friendly neighborhood hero up here to them.

She feels, more than hears or sees, when a person joins her on the roof. A prickle of alarm goosebumps on top of her 'it's December in London and really damn cold' goosebumps. Stephanie doesn't turn to the new arrival. There's only one person who sends that dread-excitement-awe mix twisting in her stomach.

It's been over a day. Nobody's gone in, nobody's gone out, at least not in the many hours Stephanie or Damian have been keeping watch. It's possible someone slipped down or came topside during the few times neither of them were here, but she doesn't think it's likely. Then again, if they did come up, no one would tell her. Captain Barnes and the rest of the ITF think of her and Damian as, maybe not part of the enemy, but definitely at least related by marriage. She can't really blame them, but it still sucks not being one of the good guys.

There haven't been any explosions or huge battles down in Rapture she can tell, which doesn't mean they haven't happened. But hey, maybe Jason and Bruce got over all their issues and are just hugging it out.

Yeah, right.

Waking up from a light doze, Stephanie twitches in her perch in a tree just outside the entrance to the caverns. Might go down to the entrance again to see if she can get down there. This holding pattern shit is for the birds, whatever Bruce wants or the ITF demands. Someone needs to be down there watching out for both of them. Then again, Damian might actually kill her if she got down there by herself and left him topside on his own.

She yawns against her hand and rubs at her eyes. Give them five more minutes to come out, then she's going to try going in after them. Again.

If you drop mail in here, Stephanie Brown is sure to get it!

There's a girl on the island wearing her face.

She's heard about this. People from two different places, two different times, who aren't related but look identical. Not clones, that would be manageable, but different people from other universes who just happen to be identical twins. One of the people she met on the first night has a twin she's already seen, someone with completely different mannerisms. It's a little weird, but, hey, tropical pocket reality split off from the multiverse: the standard for what's considered weird here is pretty high.

But now there's a girl who looks like her, who looks just like her. Not just a good costume, not just a trick of make up and disguse. She's her. It's goes beyond weird and lands right in fucking uncanny. If Stephanie wasn't still wearing her own skin, she'd think it was Jane Doe.

Stephanie saw her for the first time leaving the Compound, spotted her just out of the corner of her eye. When faced with an unknown problem, the first thing you do is do your homework, so, abandoning her laundry, she'd taken off after her not-clone. Her red t-shirt didn't make skulking ideal, even in the deepening twilight, but she managed. It'd been easier to sneak after her once they'd got under the canopy cover, Steph had climbed up into the trees and stepped from branch to branch a few feet behind this strange, possibly evil version of herself.

Hey, she's a Bat, she comes by her stalking tendencies honestly. And, anyway, it's just to make sure anti-Stephanie isn't out to murder someone and make her take the blame. Maybe this isn't Gotham City, but crazy things could still happen here.

But jungle recon is a whole different world from the urban stuff she's used to. Out of easy branches within reach, Steph chanced a leap and grabbed at a thick bough on the next tree over. Wincing at the louder-than-she'd-like landing, she kicks out for a foothold and chances a glance down at her identical quarry. Hopefully her fumbling landing wouldn't attract any notice.

It's been a week. No rescue, no communication with anyone outside their tropical prison, and Damian finding fun and exciting new ways to work on her last nerve. It has been a very long week. Not bad, exactly, but Steph is not exactly good at rocking the restful and idyllic life style. At home there was always something she needed to be doing: if it wasn't patrolling it was schoolwork, and if it wasn't schoolwork then it was training, and if it wasn't training it was a desperate attempt to make sure all her friendships and family relationships didn't collapse while she was busy doing other things. Here there was nothing but rest and relaxation and making sure Damian was getting through the days more or less intact.

She needed to be doing something. So this morning she had wrestled a swimsuit from the clothes box and hit the beach. The bikini means her scars and faded, nearly-gone stretchmarks are all on display, but she'd need a wetsuit to hide them and, anyway, Stephanie doesn't care who sees them. She is this person and that includes all the ugly parts. It doesn't hurt that the polka dot pattern is really cute.

Stephanie is standing out in the surf when she notices a class gathering down the beach, Jason Todd included. It looks less like a class and more like an organized asskicking. Much with the running. She spends the next hour doing the beach babe thing, swimming and then drying off in the sun with a copy of The Handmaiden's Tale for a while. But when the class starts breaking up, she wanders over to the guy running the operation.

"Hey," she offers a little wave. "Sorry to interrupt. Is this the cardio class mentioned in the school's course list?"