Disclaimer: Young Justice and Stephanie Brown are not owned by me. Young Justice is owned by DC Comics, Warner Bros., and - unfortunately - Cartoon Network.

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. Does it show? Following in the same vein as my YJ!Jason Todd story, this time is my personal favorite DC character Stephanie Brown based on her appearance in "Before the Dawn." Not an AU, just a little guesstimation about her life.

ANY OTHER DAY

When faced with a ridiculous situation, Stephanie sometimes liked to think back to how the day began. All was quiet in the city of Gotham, when suddenly! Insert ridiculous situation of your choice here.

Hers happened to be kidnapped by aliens and trapped in a giant pod, presumably to have her brains sucked out so the aliens could absorb human knowledge in order to invade the Earth.

Same old, same old, right? Well, the day hadn't started in such a bombastic manner.

Stephanie woke to a gloomy spring morning. Gotham was looking especially bleak today, just for her. The sun would shine through in a few hours, but for now Stephanie preferred this dull image. It was closer to the truth, and she hated being lied to. Even by the weather. It would brighten eventually and when it did she would welcome the warmth with open arms. Until then she seemed to be destined to a life of gray mornings and an alarm clock setting for 6am.

Ten minutes later she fell slumped against the kitchen table across from her mom, who sat sipping coffee and reading the newspaper in her nurse's scrubs, clearly used to her daughter's various morning moods.

"Don't look so glum, honey," her mother said. "I made your favorite."

A stack of waffles slid into view. The warm aroma filled her senses with nostalgia and comfort. Stephanie speared one of the end of her fork and dramatically tore off a chunk of the syrupy gridwork with her teeth. "Tastes like a good day," she grinned.

"I got a letter from your dad this morning."

Speaking of which. The waffles turned to soggy paste in her mouth. "Yeah?"

"He says hello."

"Really?"

"I don't know. I think I saw your name before the letter burned to a crisp in the barbeque oven out back, so let's assume he did."

Atta girl, Mom.

It was hard being the daughter of a known supervillain - even harder being the ex-wife of one - but Steph and her mom got along famously without him. Not that it didn't leave some room for more than a few daddy issues and dramatic phone calls, but those problems would fade with time. Or so she preferred to believe.

Stephanie shrugged on her favorite eggplant purple jacket to protect her from the morning chill. Her mom came over and tied a thick white scarf around her neck, "Just in case," she said in response to Stephanie's petulant eye roll. "You never know, today might be different."

As though purposely trying to defy her mother's words, it was looking to be just another day. The sky was blue, the trees were green, and the Gotham police were shouting through megaphones behind a wall of plexiglass shields at some bank robbers holding people hostage. Everything was normal. Boring, average, run of the mill, whatever.

One good thing she could say about school was there was always a new series of unfortunate events almost every day. That day she flunked a math quiz, broke her favorite pen, ate lunch alone for the third time that week, and was called out for daydreaming in class and then humiliated herself by asking the teacher what page they were on. In shop class.

During P.E. she caught a glimpse of a girl scrolling through the news on a brand-new smart phone. Something about Batman taking down those bank robbers she had passed on the way to school. She couldn't read the headline but assumed it was something along the lines of, "Batman Saves Day Once Again. People Worship the Ground He Creeps On. Build Statues of His Cowl."

She wondered if Batman ever went to high school. It was difficult to picture the scary hooded figure as a pimply kid with braces solving math problems on the board and writing essays. Essay topic number one: A technical analysis on how to fight crime in Spandex.

She accidentally snorted into her hand, causing the cell phone girl to give her an edged look and slink off to join her friends at the other end of the gym.

Well played, Steph. Nothing says "I wanna be your friend" like laughing like a moron behind someone's shoulder. Stephanie brought her legs to her chest and rested a chin on her knees, pouting slightly. Bet no one ignored Batman. Then again, he was always busy kicking ass and taking names, that whole terror of the night shtick. No one stood up for the little man quite like he did.

In hindsight, perhaps it was this thought that led to her getting trapped in the girl's bathroom after school with a punch in the nose.

Minding her own business, just freshening up after gym, and in burst a group of girls ganging up on a freshman who had, quote unquote, been "flirting" with the ring leader's senior boyfriend. Stephanie had rolled her eyes and prepared to leave the whole soap opera behind, but the trembling girl couldn't have been more than five feet tall and had the figure of a toothpick.

And no one hated seeing the little man bullied quite like she did.

Two bitchy insults and a few punches later, Stephanie found herself in the rather inconvenient position between a shower stall and four girls with unnaturally sharp fingernails. She wiped at her nose, which was still dripping blood, and groaned at the rusty brown stain blooming on the sleeve of her jacket. Her favorite jacket. But, of course, there were slightly more pressing matters at hand.

The leader, a glossed and polished junior wearing enough designer ware to be considered walking product placement, said with a glare behind mascara heavy lids, "Do you have a death wish, little girl?"

Fight or flight, fight or flight. "Sometimes," Stephanie replied calmly, looking for an exit. "Depends. Is today Monday? I never could get the hang of Monday's." Close enough.

"Funny. A real comedian. But we'll see who's laugh-"

Stephanie slapped a hand to her forehead, all nervousness forgotten. "Oh my god, please, I beg of you, don't finish that sentence. If you're going to pummel me, please don't do it after saying the most cliched line of all time."

The girl let out a high-pitched shriek of frustration and lunged, but Stephanie was too quick for that. She leaped backwards to the wall, flicked on the nearest shower, and watched as her would-be mob was hosed down from dyed hair to painted toe. They squealed like pigs, tripping over each other in their haste to run away. It was almost funny how hard they tried to keep their faces from receiving a full blast in order to prevent their makeup from running. What kind of priorities were those?

The leader was the most tenacious of the pack. Stephanie recognized her from around school. There were some people who had their past written on their faces, and this girl had seen the hard-knock life. Maybe that was why she leapt at Stephanie, makeup running and all, and began throwing scratches like no one's business.

Stephanie parried the nails and caught the girl full in the face with her fist. Anyone who thought she'd play nice with girls was kidding themselves. She grabbed her assailant by the hair and held her at arm's length, one fist drawn back for a final blow.

"Brown!"

The girls had called in the cavalry. Her math teacher came barreling into the locker room, the whistle-blowing girls cowering behind his back with vengeful grins.

Oh, snap. Literally caught in the act. No amount of eye-fluttering was going to get her out of this one. This might look slightly better if you let go of the girl's hair, said the tiny voice of common sense in her head.

She released the girl, who straightened up and ran away yelling, "Crazy bitch!" over her shoulder.

There was nothing but the whistling sound of running water and Stephanie's heavy breathing. She wiped the blood from her nose and pushed back her soaked hair with a guilty half-smile, "I know this doesn't look good, but when you hear my side it'll all make sense."

The teacher crossed his arms. "Really?"

"No. Probably not."

Ah, the guidance counselor's office. Many a deranged student had no doubt passed through these doors, sat in this therapeutic chair, and spilled their traumatized guts to the kindly counselor, but Stephanie did not count herself one of them. She had merely been rolling with the punches. Literally. Her taped nose was still smarting.

"So, Stephanie," the guidance counselor perched herself daintily on the edge of an armchair, clipboard nestled in her lap and pen at the ready. "Is there anything you'd like to say before we begin?"

"You've got the wrong man, counselor, I swear," she deadpanned.

The counselor ignored this. "Let's talk about your recent behavior then. This isn't the first disagreement you've had with your classmates, is it?"

"No, but who's keeping count, really?"

The woman gave a little sigh and opened a scary thick folder. "You've had five altercations this year alone, three reports of disrespecting teachers, you're nearly failing two classes, and you hardly interact with your classmates."

Oh. So they were keeping count.

"Now, most of your teachers say you're a bright, charming girl, but the smallest comments from classmates can set you off."

Stephanie crossed her arms firmly at that one. Smallest comments? If she heard one more whisper about her father's most recent villainous escapade it would be too soon. Not to mention the insinuations that it ran in the family.

"Is everything...all right at home?"

Wow, don't hold back, just go right for the home life, she thought. Yes, Stephanie, you're a lovely girl, and by the way how's your criminal father doing? I hear he's pulling another stint in Belle Reve these days, must be tough, let's hug it out.

"It's fine," she said.

The counselor fixed with a contemplative stare as though sizing her up, trying to gauge just how much of her super shrink powers this patient would require.

"Do you have any after-school activities?"

Does visiting the GCPD to get information on your dad's latest jailbreak count?

"Having a routine activity can help blow off steam. You might like sports or band or maybe something you can do with friends?"

"Not interested."

The counselor closed the folder and dropped on the floor. "Fine, let's speak frankly. Why do you think you keep getting into trouble?"

"I don't know. Maybe I just have one of those faces."

"Please, Stephanie. I'm trying to help here. You can't keep picking fights like this."

Stephanie threw her hands with frustration. "Okay, let's get something straight. Does it say anywhere in that folder about how many underclassmen I protected from being beat up? Because that's me, Stephanie Brown, protector of lunch money and swirlies anonymous. I'm not doing this for kicks, I get into fights because I see people getting picked on and I can't stand by if there's something I can do to help. What's wrong with that?"

"You have an interesting sense of justice."

She slumped back into the chair. "Well, slap a hood on me and call me Batman."

"Do you think that maybe this desire to punish bullies is an extension of your feelings about your father?"

She suppressed a laugh. Was it that obvious. "What can I say? Altruism's a good look on me."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No, I'm more of a purple girl myself."

One hour, twenty questions, and more than a few verbal quips later, Stephanie found herself standing to leave with a fresh distaste for the public schooling system. The counselor had made dozens of pages worth of notes in their short time together. Her pen had scratched across the paper so fast her eyes could hardly follow it. All of it extremely flattering, no doubt.

"Well, thanks. This was fun. See you," Stephanie said awkwardly and left before the woman could scribble down any more evaluations.

"Wait, hold on a second."

She stopped in the doorway, unwilling to turn around.

The woman stood and met her at the door anyway. When she spoke, it was in a quiet tone full to the brim with warmth like a steaming cup of cocoa. "I know things are hard for you and I know that you probably feel weighed down by your father and your past. But please don't limit yourself to what people think."

"What, am I just supposed to be a regular old poster child?"

"You can be anything you want, Stephanie. You just have to figure out what that is." She closed the door leaving Stephanie with the echo of a friendly smile.

Nice woman. She just wanted to help. Don't they all?

The counselor opened the door again suddenly, making Stephanie jump. "Oh, and before I forget, you're suspended for the next three days. Don't forget to pick up your backpack from security on the way out."

So close to ending the day on an encouraging note.

She picked up her backpack and decided to kill time feeling sorry for herself in the park. A few kids looked like they wanted to protest her hogging the swing set, but seemed to think twice after seeing her face, which was still sporting a few blue and green bruises.. Stephanie ripped the tape off her nose and wiggled it a bit. Still functional. She sighed and let her feet drag along the ground, filling her shoes with wood chips.

Another suspension. Assuming they had already phoned her mom at the hospital, there was going to be a chilly conversation when she got home. It was already growing dark. Her mom would be off shift soon. Probably sitting at home, still in her scrubs, waiting for Stephanie to come home, maybe making additions to her well rehearsed lecture on why violence was bad.

Once again, home was the last place she wanted to be.

Which brought her back to the alien pod abduction part.

There she was. A long way from home and feeling a lot like a pig stuck in a pen, just waiting for that butcher with the bloodstained knife to come turn her into bacon.

Stephanie wished someone had added this to the reasons kids shouldn't walk around after dark. It's all fun and games until you get abducted and thrown in a chain-link cage covered with electric fencing by some chick in a tiger costume with a voice like rusty gravel. What a pamphlet that would have made.

The kids around her were all panicked, but knew better than to scream. Some had been taken from Gotham like her yet others were from as far as Metropolis. She hugged her stomach and buried her chin deeper beneath her white scarf. What she wouldn't give to be receiving a million mom lectures right about now.

Suddenly there was a slight whoosh of air and the sound of two people landing daintily within the cage. One was an older girl with flaming red hair pulled back wearing a blue and white track suit and a boy sporting sunglasses, a military haircut, and a slim, lean build. How either of them had snuck without notice was anyone's guess. Their footsteps seemed to be lighter than air, but to Steph they practically screamed "We are inconspicuous, we swear!" The other kids were turning around, gasping. These intruders were going to get them caught.

"Ssh," the redhead whispered. "We're here to help."

Stephanie's nerves kicked into high gear. "Why should we trust -"

At that moment what appeared to be an oversized bee whizzed past her ear, but Stephanie had never seen an insect in a skin tight yellow and black flight suit with goggles. The boy opened the front of his red jacket so the bee girl could nestle in the inside pocket. He raised his head to give her challenging expression that said, Really? You wanna ask questions?

She backed off. Clearly these kids weren't just anyone. Don't make trouble, Steph. Let's do what the pretty boy says. "Okay, never mind."

Whether or not they were here to help, they certainly didn't try and stop the men from shoving her into a glowing red pod. The armored shell of her pod clicked closed, trapping her within. Her breathing sounded hollow and distorted in the echoing confines, and her vision was filtered with red.

Bright side, let's think of the bright side, shall we, she thought while massaging the pulse in her neck in hopes that it would stop pounding so hard. One...today was anything but boring?

But boy, was that an understatement. Ninja kids jumping in from the shadows, girls who turned into bees, some badass black-haired chick dressed like an armored tiger, being manhandled into a glowing red alien pod.

Be careful what you wish for, Steph.

Though at first their helpers' plan didn't seem all that smooth when everyone was being pushed into pods, Stephanie soon found herself sprinting down the hallway of what was unmistakably an alien ship. The ceilings were covered with pulsing purple globules and the supporting pillars resembled protruding jade green fangs, which gave the impression that they were trapped within the giant mouth of a monster. That was going to give her a few nightmares for sure.

They were met by a buff blonde girl at end of the hall, who ordered them inside another room. Now she was stuck in a room with an even prettier boy in a very tight suit. Damn, these superheroes didn't leave much to the imagination, did they?

But they were amazing. A few were young enough to be her classmates. They could've fit perfectly in her third period algebra class, but instead they were all costumed up, flipping and kicking their way through a hoard of masked men. Also, aliens. Was she the only person thrown by that?

When the door suddenly closed behind them, leaving their saviors and one of the other kidnapped kids behind, Stephanie could only stand by and watch in half-frozen terror. It was like watching a movie; she couldn't skip to the end and see if their heroes would be all right. She could only watch events unfold before her eyes, and by god it was a sight to see.

The way they hatched plans at the drop of a pin, made snap decisions fully aware of how many lives were at stake, and pushed their bodies to the limit for their teammates and for the kids she came with. People they had never met, but were willing to face evil, mind-sucking aliens for.

She could only wonder what could possibly drive these people. What brought them together. And - for a single moment of pure insanity - how she could possibly be part of it.

The day's end found Stephanie trudging home. After fielding her mother's tireless questions and panicked hugs - more akin to affection choking than anything else - she lazily kicked off her shoes and fell face-first into her comforter.

Had it all been real? The aliens, the superheroes, and her standing among it all. Was she really home? Was it really over?

Maybe the bigger question was did she want it to be over? Something had stayed with her from the fighting. A little remnant of adrenaline was still lodged inside her brain like a shock of electricity. She was sitting on the biggest realization of her life. The world was huge! It was so infinitesimally enormous and wonderful, how could anyone just go home and fall asleep after what she had just experienced!

She wasn't about to give it up either. No sir. Stephanie sloth-rolled her way off the bed and clumsily fell to the floor, sitting on her knees. What to do, what to do?

Her mother's sewing kit lay open from when she had used it to patch up her jacket. A corner of dark purple cloth poked its head out as though beckoning to her. She seized the cloth and tugged it free to unfold before her. Silky folds of material dribbled to the floor, pooling at her feet. It was rough and ungarnished but held so much potential. On an impulse, she dramatically whipped the fabric around her. She stood back to examine herself in the mirror. A black shadow had been cast over her face from where the fabric draped.

She grinned and the stranger in the mirror grinned back, blue eyes flashing. "I can be anything I want, huh?"

Be careful what you wish for, Steph