Hug
Sometimes, all Zatanna really wanted was a hug.
Zatanna tried very, VERY hard not to think about her dad. She was sure if she did, she'd cry. Crying wasn't a sign of weakness. But she refused to cry. Because...
It would mean she had given up.
And Zatanna Zatara (curse their last name, she was on the verge of tears again) would not give up on her father.
So, she didn't cry. She didn't give up. She didn't think about him.
She didn't think about him when she was dragged by Artemis (who was being dragged by M'gann, and, like the WONDERFULLY LOYAL best friend she was, declared "If I'm going down I'm dragging you with me.") to the impromptu shopping spree at the mall. Especially not when they passed a costume shop with a magician's costume on display and her friends ushered her along.
She didn't think about him when they watched Harry Potter in the living room. Conner glanced at M'gann, who was no doubt telling him telepathically to TURN IT OFF before switching it to static.
She didn't think about him when she noticed Kaldur's copy of 'The Magician's Nephew' lying around. The Atlantean quickly banished it from sight, brow furrowing in worry at her in uncharacteristic silence.
She didn't think about him when the product of M'gann's latest cooking attempt looked strangely like a top hat. Deftly snatching it out of her hand, Wally chomped down and proclaimed it good, Artemis fake-scolding him, meanwhile both discreetly checked on her out of the corners of their eyes.
She managed to last the whole day without thinking of him, imagining his laugh, hearing his booming voice, feeling his warm, comforting embraces.
But she couldn't help what her subconscious threw at her.
And so, when she woke up at twelve, panting and sweating profusely, she cried. A nightmare? No. But memories. Just memories.
That ache in her heart intensified, because -oh gosh- she could remember how he used to comfort her after nightmares.
Wiping her eyes, she reached out to her nightstand. Her fingers brushed against the familiar wooden frame, unordinary, but currently housing one of the most important things in her life. She stared forlornly into the photo, sniffling harder and harder as the tears started flowing faster.
Suddenly, the door to her room slid open. A figure padded in, shades askew.
"Robin? What do you want?" She tried, she really did try hard, but there was no masking the tremor in her voice.
Wordlessly, he stepped forward till he was in front of her. He held his arms out.
She hesitated, timidly shuffling forward, before abandoning all indecision and launching herself into his arms.
He held her, all that night, while she cried her heart out.