I do not own Young Justice. If I did, there would have been many more seasons for us all to enjoy.
She knew this was normal; the denial, the gnawing emptiness, the tears, it was all expected. She knew that her friends and teammates didn't blame her, that they were there for her, that they were her companions in grief. Her mother was there, as well as his parents, and they were all there for each other, for her.
Then why was it so hard?
She had grown up on the streets, learning the hard truth that there was no mercy there for the weak. It was either kill or be killed. Life was cheap and it was hard, so many times she had seen other children digging through the garbage bins looking for any scraps to help appease their hunger. Death was everywhere.
Then her mother had been arrested and her sister had fled, leaving her alone with her father and his beatings. She had tried hard to please him, tried to stay away from his quick temper and quick fists. But it never worked; the beating continued and as she grew older new tortures were added to the mix.
She was taught martial arts and how to best her opponent by means both dirty and honest. She practiced archery until there was scarcely a target she couldn't hit. She was taught to be stealthy, to blend into her surroundings, how to lie, how to bluff. Her father, the Sportsmaster, watched her with cold, calculating eyes that betrayed nothing but glacial cruelty.
She grew older and she changed. Not only physically, that was a given, her entire personality changed. The sweet, shy, scared little girl was buried under the façade of a bad-tempered, street wise, tough girl who resolved to keep everyone at arms length. Her father's missions that she'd been forced to go along on, her sister's return, a friend's death; none of them had any effect on her. Only her mother's return from prison and the subsequent accident that took away her ability to walk moved her at all.
Her mother was different since she got back; she was calmer, more stable and she found herself loving it. Her mother was the one who made her question what she was doing with her father, made her question to see if she really believed what he did. When she had split away from her father and sister, her mother was there to set her on a new path. When she found out about her daughter's crime fighting, albeit through Batman and Green Arrow, she was never happier or more proud.
Being introduced to the team was a nerve-wracking experience, especially since she found that she actually wanted them to accept her. To hide her nerves, she layered on her sarcastic outer exterior. Then she saw him. He had a strip of suntan lotion streaked across the bridge of his nose and a pair of swim trunks hugged his hips. He looked like a tourist and completely out of place in the monitor room of Mount Justice, but she suddenly found the barriers she'd built around her heart tremble a little.
Even after she'd been accepted by the others, they both continued on an intricate dance of jabs and insults. She relished getting him riled up, and he seemed to enjoy making her clench her teeth in anger. Over and over they performed their little give and take, until eventually they both began to peek out from behind their barriers and to look at each other, really look.
Then her sister and brother decided to pull a little heist, and with Red Arrow's accusations on one side and her family's threats on the other, she did what she had to in order to protect herself in the eyes of her Team, in his eyes. She went against orders and ended up causing more problems than had been there before. She could sense the triumphant look behind Red's mask and the disappointment in Kaldur's, but what really stabbed her heart was the look of disappointment and betrayal in his eyes.
Things had been tense between them since then, and he made sure to put her down every chance he got with little barbs that stabbed her very soul. Then came the great reveal and the fight at Santa Prisca. Giving him her father's mask had seemed like the right thing to do, and the look in his eyes made her smile. She was forgiven, and she likewise forgave him, something that she had never before been able to do.
Then he had kissed her on the Watchtower at the stroke of midnight, and she had kissed him back. Not long after, he asked her out on a date. A few years later, he asked her to move into a place of their own. And after a particularly dangerous mission, where each had thought the other was dead, they agreed to retire and hang up the costumes for good.
They had lived peacefully for five years before Nightwing and Aqualad came knocking at their door, asking for her help. He wasn't happy when she said she'd do it, and a niggling feeling of guilt followed her out the door and into the mission. But still, the promise of a good adrenaline rush after years of inactivity was enough to tempt her into the carefully crafted charade the four of them had cooked up.
The time on Manta's ship was miserable, not only because she was forced to call up a skill set she hadn't used in a long time, she missed him. Several times she had been tempted to sneak home to see him, but she knew the chance of someone seeing them was too high. And she wasn't sure that if she went to him, she wouldn't have the strength to leave him again. And likewise, she wasn't sure if he would have the strength to let her go.
Their few hours together before the Reach's final attempt at Earth's annihilation had been wonderful, and donning their own costumes if only for a couple of days seemed right. It was everything she had been missing, and she knew that deep down, he missed it too.
Then suddenly, he was gone. He had told his uncle to pass on the message that he loved her and the knowledge that while he had sacrificed himself to save the world; she was the last thing on his mind. And the thought of all the hell she'd put both of them through while trying to do the same tore her up inside.
The next few months were blurred with tears and a gnawing emptiness that she couldn't even pretend to ignore. She could tell that the others were worried about her and Zatanna, M'gann, and Raquel had crashed at her place more than once, just to keep an eye on her. But still even with all the support, it was still so hard.
He was everywhere. His clothes were still in their closet, his scent slowly starting to fade. She'd find a bottle of his favorite cologne, an unopened box of snacks in the cupboard, a pile of college essays he never had a chance to finish. Just a million little reminders of what she'd lost and they were tearing her apart.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and she'd turned to alcohol and drugs to deaden the pain. She'd sunk lower and lower until she didn't know which way was up anymore. Then, she hit bottom and it found her taking an overdose of painkillers with a generous glass of liquor. Luckily, though it didn't seem so to her at the time, her sister found her passed out on the floor and managed to get her to the emergency room in time to save her life.
After that, she just gave up. Green Arrow enrolled her in a rehab program and she went through the motions of cleaning up her act, still feeling strangely empty. She was temporarily moved into quarters on the Watchtower so the others could keep an eye on her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. The others tried to talk to her, but she politely shut them all out. All, except for one.
Bart missed the cousin he never really got to know and was worried about her. He'd seen her decline since his death, and when she tried to commit suicide, he knew he needed to talk to her. So he did. She was stubborn as he knew she'd be, he'd come prepared for that. She fought him, fought his words until she couldn't take it anymore and she finally broke down. He stayed by her side and when the storm passed, he was glad to see that she looked much better. After all, she nearly became part of his family and he had to look out for her.
Slowly, to the relief of her teammates, she began to pull herself out of her depression and to take a few tentative steps forward in her life. She got rid of his clothes and other personal items bit by bit, and then moved out of the apartment and in with Zatanna. Pictures and valued trinkets were packed away in a box and hidden away from her sight. She started to keep a diary and even began talking to Black Canary, trying to work through some of her issues. She couldn't hold back a sad smile at that thought. He had changed her in a lot of ways, before him she wouldn't have even thought about talking through her feelings with Canary, but now she found herself actually relishing the time with her old trainer.
His holographic form in the Memorial Garden was comforting, and seeing Bart take on the mantle he had left behind made her smile. He would have been so proud of him, just like she was. And like him, Bart kept her on her toes and laughing at his antics; coaxing a smile out that the others hadn't seen in a long time.
Some days though, in her dreams, she retreated to the past and once in awhile to the future that might have been. Would they have been married with children by now? Would they have ever rejoined the Team, or even the League? Would they have grandchildren who they spoiled rotten? How would he look with grey hair creeping in at his temples and wrinkles dancing at the corners of his eyes? Those night she would wake up crying, her heart aching for what was and what would never be. Those nights, she lost him all over again, and it all began to hurt again.
Then, however, she'd wake up in the morning and see her friend's smiling faces. She'd laugh at the jokes, and maybe throw a few of her own remarks in the conversation. It reminded her that life goes on, and maybe somehow, she find the strength to keep moving with it.