The tree that sat in the living room of the Cave was something to behold.
It was grand and green, covered in lush, pointed pines and wrapped in clear glass bulbs, fruit flavored candy canes, and braided ribbon. Decorative objects hung randomly about. M'gann, thinking it appropriate, had made, with the assistance of Zatanna and Artemis, a line of League member shields. The bat symbol, Superman's S, and a little black bird, distinctively a canary. But there was one particular decoration that had the young magician up on Christmas Eve, cuddled next to the fire place.
A little plastic hat, with red ribbon wrapped around the base.
It felt like every time her eyes met the little object, they slid off like she was trying to walk up an icy hill. It seemed painful to be looking at it. She had already lost her mother when she was young and now she was forced to stare upon this little reminder of the last bit of family that got taken from her. The Team tried and failed to comfort her, and distract her. Though appreciated, her mind always ended up going back to her father. Like earlier, when Kid Flash and Robin took her into town and got her hot chocolate. It was like when she had fell out of a tree from slipping on ice as a child. Her father had plucked her from the snowy mound at the base of the oak and brought her into the house for a mug of cocoa. Or when the Team, as a whole, decided it would be fun to watch Christmas movies to get into the holiday spirit. Just as her and her father did when they were together for the holidays.
Quiet mourning was what Zatanna wanted to do. Not listen to the people around her say lies to her and try in vain to ease her thoughts. It's going to be okay and we're your family wasn't what she wanted to hear. Because it isn't going to be okay. And they weren't always her family, and to be honest, they never will be, compared to how she and Zatara were at least. They were the light in each other's eternal dark. They were the last flicker of warmth in a snowing tundra.
Zatanna remembered when she found the decoration. When it was made, Megan tried to hide it in the pantry, so that Zatanna wouldn't be upset. But it only made her upset when all the heroes except her father's was upon the tree. She would never tell Megan how she felt about it, disrespected, but she would always feel like the Team was shielding her. It's what her father used to do. Protect his little girl from the world.
Watching the scene from the Watchtower surveillance camera, Doctor Father folded his fingers together, his eyes stuck to his host's daughter. The emotions of the mortal seemed so confusing. He only felt hatred towards chaos and a need for order. There was no gray. There was only black and white. But what he felt watching the girl on the screen confused him, as if his host's emotion leaked into his own. He traveled spiritually into the plane where Zatara was.
"Why are your emotions overwhelming my mind, Zatara?" The doctor said, his voice strong.
The spirit of Zatara stood in what looked like an eternally going blank room, sad eyes looking forward like he had lost part of himself somewhere far from where he is, "It is not me, Nabu. It's your guilt, with barely any of my sorrow. Zatanna connects a bridge in your subconscious, because I am your host." The weaker magician sighed, though nothing physically would happen. "You're feeling the tiny bit of your humanity slipping through the cracks of your immortal shell. It's causing you discomfort."
"Indeed. Why do you feel this sorrow?" Doctor Fate inquired.
"Because I'm empathetic towards my daughter. When she is upset, I feel her pain. If one of us is upset, we are upset together. It is how we are. Were." Zatara explained.
"Why would you wish to feel someone else's pain?"
"It makes it easy on her if I feel it too."
"That is selfish of her." Fate said, "Forcing you to feel when she is angry, or upset, or scared. It's greedy. Why should you care?"
The spirit of Zatara swelled with rage, "My daughter deserves ease! And comfort! And care! More than you! Taking away her family so easily. Chaos coerced her into using the helmet and you coerced me into taking her place. I could never let her live this life, though. I could never let her stay trapped within your mind forever. I would rather die than watch her not live."
Nabu was silent for a long period of time, looking back to the young teen who seemed to be weeping into a fluffy pillow from the couch. She muttered barely audible things, but still he couldn't register what she was saying completely. After what felt like hours, he spoke again.
"What makes this part of the year so important?" He asked.
Zatara said, "Because this is the part of the year she needed me the most. Her mother died as a child. I was all she had left. And now she doesn't even have that."
"What can we give her in your place?"
Zatara shook his head, "She wants a shoulder to cry on. A hand to hold. Words that would give her peace beyond what the Team has tried. Someone who has understood her for years." Zatara sighed, "If only she knew I was here with her. If she knew I cared."
"What are some ways mortals do that?"
He shrugged, "Gifts only she under stands. Jokes only she knows the punch line to. Quotes, phrases. She loved poetry. Letters…"
Doctor Fate waited for a moment, "I do not think I would connect mentally to Zatanna, but if you were to tell me what to write, I would be able to pass on your word."
Zatara, for the first time in months, seemed to light up a little more.
-Letters to Zatara-
Christmas morning came and Zatanna was asleep on the couch. Her face was buried in a pillow and her arm was wedged between the couch cushion and the back. As her eyes opened, she saw rows of boxes, wrapped strictly in paper of blue, gold, silver, red, purple, and yellow. Ribbons tied neatly around each jagged looking figures below.
The rest of the team wasn't awake yet as notified by the lack of excited shrieks or a rush of footsteps. So Zatanna stood, more than ready to just clamber back to her room to be alone. But a blue envelope, laced around the edges with gold, caught her eye. It sat on the coffee table, just next to where she laid before, it borders of gold catching the light and sending sparks around. In the center of the blank side, Zatanna was scribbled in perfect cursive.
She picked it up between her thin, tanned fingers, turning it over to see it sealed with a golden stamp. Mentally, she debated whether it was wrong to open a gift early. It was, after all, against the Christmas tradition. Deciding a single letter wouldn't make a big difference, she tore the stamp and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. On it read:
Dearest Zatanna,
Merry Christmas. I am sincerely sorry that I cannot be there to watch you peel open your presents and see the happiness in your face as you see everything I've gotten you at an attempt to satisfy your desires. But I am at a crossroads. I can watch you, but only if Fate is kind.
I am sorry I have left you alone. I'm sorry I can't be by your side this holiday. I'm sorry that I cannot write this letter myself, but I have Fate write it for me. I am sorry that your mother is gone and now so am I. This is like a ghost writing you, and I know you're in pain, la mia ragazza, but I needed you to know that I am here. And that if I had to give up my life for you again I would without hesitation. I'm never going to not be sad that I can't teach you to drive or that I can't walk you down the aisle at your wedding, but I at least know that while I am not at your side, you have a group of people ready to support you and help you through your hardships. I know it is not the same. I know that you'd rather have me to aid you, but until the day that I am released, you cannot have that. Until then, you must promise me to be the best that you can be. You must do your best to right the wrongs of the world. Help a father regain his child, just as I lost you.
I will always be here, Zatanna. Behind the Helmet of Fate, I watch you as I always do. I do my best to help you. I do my best to break free of Fate's bonds so that I can talk to you again. I can't wait for the day that I get to hug you again and that I can't bring you home and make you dinner like I used to. Pot pie was always your favorite. And for desert, strawberry cheesecake topped with whipped cream with coffee. Carry on our traditions, my sweet Zatanna. Even though one of us is gone, the other remains, and can carry on the legacy.
This isn't the last I will write you. I hope you understand that I can't write you that frequently, but when I can, I shall. When the day comes that Doctor Fate is no longer needed, I will be ready to return, and be a father again. And we will be a family again.
Until then, I love you.
I will always love you.
Sincerely,
Daddy.
By the end of the letter, Zatanna was in tears, smiling at the letter before clutching it to her chest and looking to the tree, moving the Helmet of Fate a little closer to her father's miniature hat before walking into her room, tucking the letter under her pillow.