14; voice;

[slingshots]

You'd think you'd get used to being jerked around universes, but it just never sets in right.

[ why, what a cool and laid-back sounding newcomer this is! well, she doesn't sound all that new, but the NV signal is definitely a different one than last time. ]

We're still on 2012, right? I'm hoping not. Music doesn't start sounding good 'til at least 2025.

[ encrypted to Sherlock Holmes: ]

You talked to the last me, right? 'Cuz that so wasn't me.

[ awkward... pause... ]

And... um, hi. Busy?

Comments

[deductives]

[Sherlock raises an amused eyebrow while the dog fussed around her ankles.]

Good to see that sank in after a few years. [He looks her over before turning back into the apartment.] You didn't go home.

[He pauses and drums his finger on the wall instead of turning towards the kitchen.]

I cut it. On John's fist.

[slingshots]

[ She sinks to give the dog a little attention, a quick scritch (man, she hopes her roommate will keep feeding her dog, back in the City...), before rising again to follow after him.

She stops at his side, standing close, to look up for a quick study. ]

Trouble in paradise, huh. [ A pause. ] No, you're right.

[deductives]

[Sherlock gives her quite the look for that one.]

What's a little fisticuffs between friends?

[He looks at the empty circle where the 'R' used to be emblazoned proudly.]

Kettle's just boiled. Don't agree with the Robin philosophy anymore? [He picks up a cup and hands it to her. She'll remember how to make it to her liking.] How long has it been?

[Hopefully not long enough that the line of questions is surprising.]

[slingshots]

[ There might be a little flutter of an escaping smile at that, even if now isn't really the time to be making fun of them. (It's hard to totally repress humor, sometimes.) But then she's nodding, accepting the cup, and watching it for a few seconds. ]

Just under two years. I was about to hit the two-year mark, actually. [ That cup must be fascinating, man. But then eventually she's moving again, adding sugar and milk like she always used to. ] Someone told me I wasn't acting like a Robin, I-- don't remember who.

[ She looks up with that, straight to Sherlock. ]

The Core does something to your memory of people. I got all the events, but none of the faces.

[deductives]

You're sixteen, then.

[He frowns. Sixteen year old girls: emotionally volatile, oversensitive, generally hormonal. However, Carrie hadn't really been the mold of a fourteen year old girl, either. Hopefully that was consistent.

That's not as important as the signals she's giving off. Sherlock idly stirs his tea as she talks. She'd had the same crisis about the Robin name after the incident of losing her heart, and it had been for one main reason: killing people.]

Someone else from Gotham, if they knew what Robin was, but you didn't go home. Another interdimensional hub?

[If so, just how common were they?]

[slingshots]

Yeah. We call it— [ No, that's not right. ] Called it the City. Everyone got powers, same as here. Only, we weren't stuck there. Used to borrow a jet to visit other countries for a weekend, 'n called it cultural research.

[ And this part with a pleased little smile into her cup: ] This time a week ago, I was in space. No excuse for that one, just saw a chance and snagged it.

[ This fact obviously takes precedence over the not-a-Robin fiasco, if tone of voice is anything to go by. She doesn't seem too bothered by the memory, as much as pleased by the more recent one. ]

[deductives]

[Just the City? Creative, Sherlock thinks wryly. Still, the ability to leave a single island was enviable. Space? Well... interesting enough, but nothing for him up there. Sherlock shrugs. Never easy to impress. Even harder to derail.]

So what will they call you now?

[slingshots]

[ She blinks, and with a little reluctance, puts the space-adventures-memory aside for later enjoyment. Even if she lost all the faces, that's mostly intact. ]

Redbird.

[ That with a glance up. She doesn't usually care what people think of the name she'd actually picked out for herself, rather than taken up, but... well, this is Sherlock. ]

[deductives]

[Redbird. A darker shade, like blood. Like Red Hood-- Sherlock remembered that one. Sionis had a beef with him. Did Carrie talk to him? And was he present in this City as well? Sherlock takes a thoughtful sip of his tea.]

Again, at least it's more subtle. No medieval tales related.

[He won't criticize it too much. Sherlock had learned the value of of having an alias, though he'd still never take one up.]

[slingshots]

[ The absence of an insult is as good as a compliment. She smiles, pulls off the mask, and tucks it into a pouch. It feels sort of silly to be wearing it indoors, with Sherlock. ]

No Robin's ever Robin forever, and I didn't really wanna be Batman anymore, so... [ She shrugs. ] Someone told me it was the name of a car. I still think it's cool, though.

[deductives]

[He gives her a small smile at that. Now it feels like he was really seeing her again.]

Don't need glasses anymore?

[This insight is telling, though. Carrie had looked up to Batman more than anyone else, always. Without his guidance, and even without Sherlock's, what had she done? There was only one thing that he could think of. His face becomes serious.]

Did you do what he can't?

[slingshots]

Contacts. [ best investment for a crimefighter ever, man.

She sobers as well with the question, though. There's only way to interpret that question, isn't there?And she'd only ever told one person about it. One really important person. Which... is exactly what Sherlock is, even if she hadn't been able to remember it until recently.

She nods. ]

For a while. But it... [ The glance falls away, even if her expression doesn't change. It's a dark patch, but she's found a peace with it. ] ...Wasn't my place.

[deductives]

[Sherlock looks at her squarely, not expressing approval or disapproval. How could he judge her? He was the man prepared to do anything, and that would never change. Especially not now.

But she was still a child. Watching her murder a drug dealer in cold blood once had been more than enough. There was no persuading her away from being a vigilante, though. He'd learned that long before.]

It's not black and white, Carrie. Bruce tried to put everyone he could above grey areas.

[He sets his tea cup down, gazing at it intently for a moment.]

Sometimes it's the only way out.

[slingshots]

I know.

[ She sets the cup down, both hands folded around it for warmth. ] I can do it, if I gotta. If there's no choice. I got good. [ A beat, and she adds: ] All with my heart intact, even.

[deductives]

[If she got good at it, Sherlock isn't sure he wants to know how many people she killed. Self-defense or otherwise, she was just so small for it. He has a feeling this is more aching sentiment, and he sighs.]

Don't leave a mystery for me.

[He'll solve it. He always does, but he doesn't want to be responsible for her getting arrested.]

[slingshots]

[ She shakes her head with that, not looking too worried. She's been threatened before by the people she'd liked, and they'd left it way less ambiguous than Sherlock. ]

Not planning on it.

[ And by now she's feeling deep enough into their usual routine, comfortable enough with this universe to recall that she's here now, not there — and so she pushes away the cup, rises from the table, and heads to Sherlock's side to wrap both arms around his neck. ]

I missed you.

[deductives]

Well. Good.

[As relaxed as Carrie might be, Sherlock isn't sure if he should bring up his own absence from the Port or not. She'd been one of the few he'd entrusted with knowing about Moriarty before hand, so he has a feeling she would understand.

That doesn't mean he wants to talk about it, though.

So while contemplating this, he just figures she wants to get more sugar. The hug cuts him off guard, not that it should. Carrie remains one of the few people to hug him so often. He would point out that missing him must have been difficult if she couldn't remember him, but he knows what she means: That inexplicable absence in the heart.

He sighs and wraps his arms around her tiny frame.]

I'm... glad. To see you again.

[slingshots]

Yeah, better be.

[ She doesn't let go, and smiles into his shoulder. He smells just like she remembers. Sometimes she'd catch a whiff of something like that, in the City, and then have no idea why she was sad. ]

Bet there wasn't anyone around to stalk you proper, while I was gone.

[deductives]

Bruce kept up the tradition, but it lacked the courtesy of the occasional cuppa.

[He actually lets her stay there; he missed her enough to allow her this. Blackheath, though, is quick to investigate. Sherlock nudges him away with his foot, though it's more difficult now that he's outgrowing his puppy phase.]

I suppose I have to reintroduce you to the nuisance.

[slingshots]

[ She eventually consents to let go and let Sherlock have his own space back, but only to crouch and give some dog-love instead. She does it with a little half a smile, looking wistful. ]

I ended up with three dogs, somehow. Here's to hoping my roommate remembers to feed 'em.

[deductives]

[Sherlock takes up his tea again and furrows his brow, trying to remember how the dog even got here in the first place.]

I didn't intend to get one. I... found him.

[Sherlock Holmes with an armful of orphaned puppies. Still an embarrassing thing to remember.]

[slingshots]

Found him.

[ She abandons the dog-love in favor of taking her seat again, and fixes him with a brow-cock. ]

Refresh my memory.

[deductives]

[Such pokerface right now.]

Yes. A bunch of them, orphaned by a Darkness monster. I-- took them to the NCC and John insisted on keeping one.

[slingshots]

[ She manages not to crack a grin, but it's a struggle. ]

Nice of you.

[ And again she's employing one of those new lessons she's picked up: if you stare expectantly and silently at people, they sometimes feel the need to add more details all of their own accord. Maybe the trick won't work on Sherlock, but she knows he won't miss the silent request, at least. ]

[deductives]

It was.

[Yep, you're gonna have to try harder than that, not daughter. He just stares right back. Sherlock has no qualms with awkward silences. Even if he probably should.]

Did your "City" have anything like the Darkness?