He watched in stony silence as the six-year-old carefully placed four red roses in position, one on each grave, before she settled on the neatly manicured grass by the end headstone and began to prattle on with childish innocence to the father she still felt so connected too.
Once this routine had been painful for both of them, reopening raw, emotional wounds with every visit. Those days would see her clinging to him, begging for him to make things right again.
It would leave him exhausted, physically and emotionally. And it would leave him frustrated and angry with his inability to ease her pain by giving her what she needed– to bring them all back.
Those early days had seen him skirting the edge of insanity. If he had been presented with a way to play God–if he had stumbled upon a Lazarus pit or found some way to turn back time–he would have. No matter how morally right or wrong it would have been, he would not have hesitated to bring them back to life.
He would have given anything to set things right.
Two sons, a daughter, and the love of his life all lay beneath the ground. Everyone he held dear to him…
Almost everyone.
He watched as the little girl stroked tiny fingers over the carved epitaph in the headstone as she chattered /Beloved Father and Son/. No sadness there anymore, her tears had long ago dried, giving way to acceptance.
She no longer asked when they were coming back--when she would see her father again? She no longer cried herself to sleep at night, pushing away his attempts to comfort her, in childish anger at his inability to fix things.
Acceptance was something he was still struggling with almost one full year since their world went to hell and took so many with it.
They had lost so much…
So many had lost loved ones that day. Family, and teammates that had became family through their mingled blood in many hard-fought battles.
He had no idea how young Dick Grayson was coping with his decision of honoring his father by picking up Batman's mantel--not without a Robin at his side.
There wasn't a Robin anymore– just like there wasn't, and never would, be another Speedy.
He ran his hand over each stone marker as he walked by. The gentle caress filled with far more emotion than he allowed to show. Settling on the grass beside the little girl, he wrapped an arm around her and gently kissed the top of her head. She continued talking, but, paused just long enough to look up at him and smile before she snuggled against his side.
He held her close, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips as she recounted the events of her week. She was all he had now– the only light that shone in a life that had become otherwise very dark. He had sworn a silent oath to himself and to his son that he would never leave her to face the fear of losing another loved one again.
He wasn't willing to risk leaving her to face this life alone and, he'd learned the hard way, through blood and sweat and tears, that saving the world had a price to pay that he was no longer willing to give.
The world would have to cope without Green Arrow to help fight any more of its battles.