AN: This takes place shortly after MTMW. I actually don't consider this a real part of the story, but it was an idea that popped into my head and demanded to get out. So...I'm leaving it up to you. If you want to pretend it's part of the story, go right ahead. If you wanna look at it as it's own one shot, that's okay too.

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There's a question I've been asking myself lately. A lot. They say a woman is never as beautiful as when she's in love. I never really understood what that meant (besides, who are 'they', anyway?). But in the past three months, it's become abundantly clear.

I have to say, it was quite flattering to find out she had fallen for a man who reminded her so much of me. Or rather, I reminded her of him. But as time goes by, that fact becomes more and more painful.

I meant what I said: about how it would have been weird. How she was too young, like a little sister. At least, I thought I did...back when I said it. Now I'm not too sure.

I look to my right at the pair in my thoughts as we wander down the streets. She's hanging off his arm, chattering on about something in the show we've just seen. It still amazes me how brightly she smiles lately.

The three of us have been spending a lot of time together nowadays. It seems the Masked Wonder has gotten over his hatred of me because he now sees no problem with me spending all the time I want with Helena, even if he's not around. It's somewhat condescending, actually. It means he no longer sees me as a threat. I think I would have liked it better if he did.

About halfway home flakes of snow begin to drift down from November sky. Winter came early this year. I light up a cigarette as I stare at the tiny bits of ice falling down. She runs out into the empty street and spins in a happy circle as the snow dances around her. He runs out to join her and I smile as I watch them both try to catch the flakes on their tongues.

It was only last year that it was me she was playing in the snow with on a freezing winter's evening. Catching flakes turned into a snowball fight which turned into a 'how much can we get down the other's shirt' fight. As I think back to it, she looked almost as full of life as she does now. But the key word is 'almost', and I wonder now if that was only because it was so easy to pretend she was really with him.

I look away from them for a moment, watching the smoke from my lungs and the condensation of my breath combining and drifting upwards. I stare at a streetlight and watch as the illumination bounces off every flake, holding out my hand to feel the occasional bit of ice that melts on the warmth of my skin.

They giggle together and I look back just in time to see him lift her off her feet. He spins her around and as she laughs with complete and utter joy, I find myself asking the same question. Could I have ever made her that happy?

And when I see that smile on her face as she looks at him, I finally come up with an answer.

No.