Author's Note:
Hi everyone! This is your favorite novice writer, first female scarlet speedster! I am back with another oneshot! this is my first Young Justice fanfic, and I hope you guys love it!
I've been pretty obssessed with YJ for a while now, so its really no big surprise that I'd make a fanfic of it.
Also, recently, I've gotten some pretty nasty reviews on my JL fanfics, and honestly, if you don't like it, don't read it. I won't be all like, "OMG, like why don't you go fuck yourself?". No, i won't say that because all those anonymous people want is attention and I'm sure as hell not going to give it to them. So honestly, the only people who benefit from that is me. Thanks for the review!
Anyways, please enjoy for this is a TRAUGHT fanfic, don't hate on me! I probably love SPITFIRE more, but I was always interested in TRAUGHT.
DISCLAIMER: GUYS, SORRY TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT I DON'T OWN YOUNG JUSTICE OR ANYTHING. I ONLY OWN THE STORY PLOT. I KNOW... I'M JUST DEPRESSED ABOUT IT AS YOU ARE.
We'll Laugh About This Someday
The picture.
Taken so long ago it seemed to be a distant memory that I dreamt.
Sitting here, looking at it.
Those were the days.
The days where nothing seemed to get to us, there weren't any concerns.
Well, not nearly as many as there are now.
The hologram on my forearm is not enough to bring me back from my reminiscing.
If the picture was in a frame, there would be worn paint marks along the edges and sides indicating much 'picking up'. If the picture was paper, the edges would be worn and the photo would be wrinkled from constant 'pulling out and unfolding'.
.
Five years have come and passed since the incident at the south pole.
I no longer hold the title of Leader or the name of Nightwing.
I held on to hope for ten years.
Ten years of holding on to the same faith that has haunt me since day one.
Since the day she walked through the Zeta tubes.
I look closely at the picture one last time, trying to remember every detail, every expression on her face, every color she was wearing, down to the shape of her earrings.
I still remember her scent.
It was a very faint rose smell.
It was a aroma that could not be duplicated by any perfume for it was natural.
The smell would forever linger on her skin.
I run my fingers through my tangled, wet, black locks.
Pulling the picture off screen, I pull up a different one that has been in my hologram's memory for only half as long as the first.
One again, it's a picture of me and her.
This time, her face doesn't look surprised and she doesn't look out of place,
She looks comfortable.
She looks so 'in place' that she almost blends in with her surroundings.
I stand by her side, arm around her shoulders, face smiling.
She stands there, her radiant soft beam gleams at the camera.
It was our high school graduation.
Our academic cloaks hang from our shoulders, the tassels dangling in our faces.
It has been five years since then, going on six.
It pains me to see it.
Three days after, we lost a friend.
But I lost a brother.
Three years later, I saw her for the first time since the South Pole.
The timeline will continue to go on, nothing preventing it from advancing.
We look so happy there, so in the moment, it almost brought me to tears.
But I never cried.
Not for anyone,
Not even her.
I rub my face hoping to rub away the fatigue and feelings that are slowly creeping up.
I take deep breaths and give the photo another look.
I know I need to memorize every detail, every haunting memory that comes along with the picture to help remind me why I'm here.
Why couldn't we be normal? What if we were normal? Would things end differently? Would my only best friend still be here?
Even my parents?
This isn't the only time I questioned my path.
That's why I decided to stop being Nightwing.
I didn't give anyone heads up, I left.
I took all my belongings from the Hall Of Justice and the Watch Tower and disappeared.
I left only a note in her room. The only indication I was gone for almost forever.
'I'll be back. Stay traught.'
.
When Bruce was out all day and all night on missions, I went to the Batcave and took whatever technology or equipment I needed.
I was going to be by myself now, I don't have the bottomless wallet anymore.
Alfred was no longer around, Bruce no longer had anyone to rely on to keep his "sons" out of trouble.
When I did disappear for the following three years after that, I know I was missed.
I'd see it on the teams' faces.
The beta and alpha squad didn't work as well as they used to.
I returned to the Hall Of Justice three years ago.
Only to observe.
No one knew of course.
They had lost three members over the past five years.
They had lost the trio of the team.
As far as they knew, Dick Grayson died in a tragic car accident a year ago in Spain.
Most of the team were unaware of my name, anyways.
.
There would be no evidence that Dick Grayson was alive. The body found in the car was 'his'. Not even a hair could tell otherwise.
Our life had changed, and mine was going to start from scratch.
She wouldn't have wanted this for me, hell… she wouldn't have wanted this for anyone.
She will never looked at me the same way as she did my best friend.
There was nothing to go back to.
Its time to say goodbye, but its hard to let go.
.
I told her that we'd laugh about it someday.
.
Recently, photos haunt me.
.
I reach for her face,
My hand passes through the hologram.
Yes, I wish it was paper.
.
.
I pull myself out of it.
All of it.
The memories,
The horrors,
The thoughts.
.
I sit on the tattered chair.
I turn down my forearm and set it on the arm rest.
I feel warm, thick liquid run down my wrist,
It oozes out of my clenched fist.
My teeth grind.
I rip the hologram off my arm.
It hits the wall across the room.
.
I lean back, wiping the blood from my hand.
.
Too many people are gone.
I didn't help by adding to the list.
.
I push my bangs back.
My head is wet, not from sweat.
But I continue to stare ahead.
The wall seems so fascinating.
.
The throb in my head tells me I'm still feeling pain.
I lean over and pick up the cheap vodka.
I take a swig.
Only a drop falls on my tongue.
The glass shatters against the same wall.
.
And I told her, 'we'll laugh about this someday'
.
My old uniform is ripped, burned, soiled.
My gauntlets missing.
Drip… Drip…
Crimson drops form on the ground and stain the chair.
.
I'm never going back.
.
Things have changed too much.
Ten years has a tendency to do that.
.
Get traught, or get dead.
That's when I realized I'd do anything,
For her.
.
I slowly stand.
I stumble.
I'm on my feet.
I feel the warm liquid streak my cheeks.
It flows into my eyes.
I fall.
I hear ringing in my ears.
'I'll see you soon, brother.'
.
I rise.
I shuffle ungracefully across the room.
I gaze down at my feet.
The pieces of glass,
My forearm hologram projector,
They lay on the ground.
.
My knees drop to the floor.
The glass finds its way under my skin.
I reach for the hologram.
I pull up the picture.
My body collapses.
My back is to the ground.
.
I feel the sticky liquid puddle around me.
I turn my head,
I see the illuminating light of the hologram.
.
She looks out of place,
She looks like she doesn't belong.
The tie around her neck is loose,
Her suit too large.
I was smiling.
It wasn't the smirk that belongs to Robin,
Or the face that could equal Batman's,
It was a smile.
"We'll laugh about this someday."
.
The last thing I see,
Before my eyes close,
Is her face.
.
It's funny really,
.
We did get to laugh about it.