Dear Selina,
It seems odd to call you by name. But although I remember you, you probably have no knowledge of me, so I didn't want to begin this letter in a way that would be disconcerting to you.
It seems odder still to write you a letter in the first place. For reasons I probably shouldn't go into at this time, you and I have not spoken for many years, although at no time have we been estranged. All my memories of you are sweet memories, and I think it's safe to say that the you that I know and love has always shown me the deepest affection in return.
I pondered whether I should come to see you instead of writing you, but I think this is the best way. You know of the recent crisis caused in part by another world's Superman and another world's Superboy punching the walls of reality to alter time. It is that ripple effect that enables me to be in your world, but I do not know if that ripple is permanent, and I don't want to speak with you and then leave you to wonder if it was just your imagination should the ripple be only temporary.
I suppose I should follow the advice of one of my law professor's and "get to the point". The reason I'm writing you is because I know something of your life, both the high points and the low points. I know you stand at a crossroads, trying to determine where to go from here, particularly where Bruce Wayne is concerned. You both wear yourselves down going back and forth over whether or not you could have a future together.
I can tell you with absolute certainty that you can. For just as there is a version of you that I know, there is also a version of him that I know equally. For them, there is a part of him that is incomplete without her, and there is a part of her that has always been searching for him. I have watched them together, and it is still difficult to imagine one without the other. I have heard stories of how they danced around the love that they were unwilling to admit to themselves, much less to each other, for so long. It robbed them of years they could have shared, indeed, that they should have shared. Those years would have been precious indeed when she was taken, far too soon, and it might be that they would have made enough of a difference that he would not have been lost as well a few short years later.
You wonder if he loves you. I can assure you he loves you with a love usually found only in epic poems, a kind of love that few women can dream of, much less experience. At the same time, you fear that past deeds could cast a cloud over your ability to be for him what you desire to be, that it might be better not to try than to risk failing him. I can tell you, as one who knows your heart nearly as well as anyone other than yourself could, that there is a depth of love and a willingness to sacrifice within you that you may not perceive. It will come bubbling freely to the surface if only you allow it to. And for that to happen, you must allow yourself to love him and to allow him to love you, freely and without the thrust and parry of the emotional fencing you have done for too long.
No doubt, you are asking yourself who this stranger is who presumes to offer advice on such a deeply personal and intimate area of your life. Let me answer that by signing this letter the way I once would have in another place in time,
Love,
Your daughter Helena
