"Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play."

-Florence + The Machine, Shake It Out

Disclaimer: As I'm four years late to the fandom, I truly doubt that I'm capable of owning Young Justice.

Prologue: Origins

New clothes

Magician's costume

Blood red sky

Why was the sky so dark so unforgiving so cruel

Breath catching as she filled herself up with a selfish, bitter hate - because how could she how could she let this happen how could she be so stupid how could she value her pride over her own father

Sacrifice

Kent would never have -

Choking as she grasped for air, grasped for reality, tried to make sure that none of this was real. Tried to make sure it was a hallucination, an extent only of her bitter imagination, tried to hang on to the sliver of hope that she had left.

Helmet

Burning gold

So bright so white so blinding too much light

She truly could not breathe. She was doubled over, having practically thrown herself onto the ground - whether it was to hide the tears overflowing from the dam she had uselessly attempted to keep them behind because her dignity still mattered, somewhat, or to beg for mercy because at that point, she couldn't find anything more to do. And it all hurt, she observed. Not just emotionally, but physically, as if watching Dr. Fate possess her father was quite literally tearing her apart. Her mouth was open, why was her mouth open? Her eyes were closed, yet she could see everything unfolding before her with perfect clarity.

No fair

She was screaming, she realized, but the sounds had long been lost to her own ears until all she could hear was silence. If she allowed herself to open her eyes, even through the blurry vision that the tears provided she could make out the faint outlines of her concerned of her teammates, and - was that the Justice League? She wasn't sure anymore, and honestly couldn't quite bring herself to care. But she could hear nothing, nothing at all, except for a single, ugly voice in her mind that seemed to dominate everything else.

Selfish

Naive

Clueless

Laughable

Idiotic

trying-to-impress-but-why

Yes, that was the real question, she deemed. The world was spinning now, though she wasn't moving at all. Faintly, she recognized it as strange. Yet, through it all, she could still bring herself to wonder why.

A boy and a girl. The former was thirteen years old, the latter only a year older, but crouched in their slightly uncomfortable positions hidden from the rest of the world, any adult who noticed them (though it was doubtful) would've thought that they were crossing borders into emotions that they were far too young to understand. That was exactly the thing about it. She'd never liked the word fate, anyway, as she preferred to make her own, but the fact that it had now taken her father was plain ironic. Yes, he was a person, and it was only a name - only a word, Robin had murmured - but she still imagined that it was, at the very least, a crude joke.

It was night, now. The sky was no longer a startling red stretched taut over the city, and instead had settled on providing a tarp of what seemed like pure darkness instead, dotted with tiny stars that hardly did anything to add any light. Admittedly, the magician thought it to be less ominous than the sky that had taken away her father, but now, it seemed - mournful, as if grieving with her. And, to be honest, she wasn't completely sure to be grateful or annoyed. So, she opted for neither.

Instead, she was wondering why every hero seemed to have a traumatic backstory, and why she had to be one of them. Knees tucked up to her chest, hair tangled and knotted but falling past her shoulders anyway, she willed her breaths to even again, though they stubbornly remained fast and gasping. Somehow, she still had the nerve to be embarrassed through all of that, and silently thanked the night sky for masking the blush on her cheeks at the moment.

The only traces of dim light were from the crescent moon hanging in the sky, and it scattered beams and towering shadows across the room. On the occasion that it would pass over the pair, they'd shy away even further into the corner of the room they were settled in. She guessed that it was one, maybe two, in the morning, but she suspected that sweet dreams would not accompany sleep tonight, and besides, the Boy Wonder was from Gotham. It was in his blood to stay up late.

They spoke in hushed whispers, as if they were afraid to be eavesdropped on even though everyone else had been gone for hours. Mostly Robin offering her words of advice, which she was, truly, grateful for, but she doubted that she would ever take it; the difference between her and him was, after all, the fact that his family was dead. Her father was still alive, except he wasn't altogether her father anymore, and she was still having a heated mental debate as to whether or not her situation was better or worse. And yes, she was acutely aware that it was unhealthy to think like that, but she either didn't care or wanted to get it out of her system, quite possibly both.

Her sentences were broken and interrupted by hiccups. "They - they still love you, though. And you - you still love them - don't you? Even though they're dead?"

It was a blunt question, and she knew that much, but the most she could muster was an apologetic smile. Robin remained mostly unfazed, though; the effects of having your family dead for years, a skill Zatanna had yet to master. The younger teen took awhile to think over her question - long enough to make the girl wonder if she'd said or did yet another thing wrong. He was good at at reading emotions, though, and she guessed that she was an open book; so, when he answered with nothing more than a nod that shook his black hair into his eyes, he'd also pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, more for reassurance than anything else. She was glad. She doubted that she could take anything else, as of right now.

Two more hours of talking before she'd finally fell into an uneasy sleep, and he'd removed his cape to spread it on her as a blanket. As he turned to leave, though, mouth still set into a thoughtful frown, movement beside him nearly started him off - and, even though that there was practically no light whatsoever, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that he could make out the faint smirk lining her lips for tricking the Boy Wonder. And he brought himself to chuckle, and she brought herself to laugh, and they went about that way for a few more blissful moments before he stepped towards the door once more. It was then that she managed to catch at his wrist, blue eyes now wide with both hope and fear, and whispered a single word.

"Stay?"

Her voice was weak and raspy. For a split second, his mind failed him, and words failed to form on his tongue, before he snapped back into action again - action being a simple, slow, almost surprised nod and two more words that tumbled out of his mouth with no hesitation at all. "Sure. Stay."

And that was how they managed to go to sleep that night, on the floor, no part of them touching except for their interlaced hands; and when Robin could finally hear her breathing steady, he lay awake there for a bit longer, silently promising to keep her safe.

Even Batman's sidekick could be just a bit callow, though.