I have way too many other things to write, but I decided to write this... Oh well, back to work!

Disclaimer: Don't own YJ, Wally, or Dick.

I was minding my pawn shop one day when I heard the front bell go off. Business was slow as usual, so the prospect of a new customer was quite enticing. He was a handsome young man: tall, with nice red hair and a precious smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Quite a charmer, I must say.

I called out a greeting to him, but he ignored me, continuing to snoop through the crammed shelves. He was far too unhappy looking for a boy his age, only twenty or so. I left him to his own devices, and he shortly left.

The next week, I saw the young man again. Same messy hair and charming freckles. He seemed less worried that day, and he even returned my greeting. Once again, he left within minutes of stepping inside.

This pattern continued for a few weeks before I finally asked him, "May I help you?" He actually seemed surprised that I would acknowledge him, silly boy; he was one of the few that came again, even though he never bought anything.

"Umm, yeah, actually," he replied. He gave me a boyish grin. "I'm looking for an anniversary gift. We've been together for nearly a year now."

"Oh, that's lovely! You never see commitment like this with youngsters today," I told him eagerly. And I was happy for him. "What size is she? I'm sure I have a dress in her size that's not too-"

"He."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's a he, ma'am. I'm dating a guy." He flinched slightly, prepared for a lashing-out typical of people my age.

"Oh," I said, taken aback slightly. "Well, no matter, I think I have a decent quality watch in the back somewhere." I bustled to the storage room, which was even messier than the front.

"You mean you're not bothered, ma'am?"

"The world needs more love, regardless of where it comes from. I just hope the two of you are happy." I came out of the back room, carrying a golden pocket watch swinging from a fine chain. Despite the slight dustiness, the gold shone brightly in the lights. The outside had Baroque-style etchings, graceful and flowing in shape. "Not many people carry these now, but it takes a refined gentleman to work one of these. It's in perfect working condition as well."

The young man approached the counter, taking the watch delicately. He scrutinized it briefly before announcing, "It's perfect! How much do you want for it?"

I knitted my eyebrows together, trying to recall the price. "Hmmm, I got that for...nearly four hundred dollars..." His face fell. Combined with his inexpensive-looking jacket and worn jeans, I could tell that he didn't have that much in his budget. "But I don't need the profit right now. Pay what you can, and you can pay me back over time."

He gaped like a fish. "Really?"

"Only if you'll come back next week. I think labor might be the best way for you to pay."

"Oh, that's not a problem, ma'am. Thank you so much!" He fished out his wallet and dug through the folds, scrounging up nearly $150. I handed him the watch, neatly writing the transaction into my notebook.

"Be here next week, same time!" I called at him. He was out of there so fast; I wasn't sure if he heard me.

True to his word, he showed up the next week, ready to help tidy up the place.

"How was the anniversary?" I asked him. It was funny; I still didn't know his name.

"Huh? Oh, it was nice. He really loved it." Suddenly, the look on his face changed. "Hello, Wally!" He smacked himself lightly on the forehead. "I haven't introduced myself. Wally West, ma'am. And you are?"

"Helena Marks. Now Wally, if you could just move that box over there..."

He worked for nearly an hour, but it felt longer. That boy was quite industrious; he got a lot of work done in a short amount of time. It was almost as if he had super speed, or maybe I'm just getting old.

Considering how much I would have paid him for working every week, he needed to work for ten weeks to pay back the cost of the pocket watch, but by week four, there really wasn't much left to do. He usually would just dust the place and stay and chat, which really is worth more than any labor he did. If you couldn't tell, I don't exactly get a lot of company…

One day, Wally finally asked me, "Hey, do you have any rings in stock?" I tell you, I nearly fainted. My little baby was getting married! In the few months I had known him, he had become my son, my little boy. Poor thing, I didn't shut up for nearly an hour. Unfortunately, I didn't have a ring for sale.

"But I'll stay on the lookout, dearie. Don't you worry."

"That's no problem ma'am; I'm not in a rush." Silly boy. Love is patient, but I doubt it'll stay patient for long!

One day, I was cleaning my closet when I found my husband's ring; he wore to his dying day. It was a simple gold ring with a single small diamond set in it. It wasn't much, but no other rings were coming my way. I showed it to Wally the next day, slightly ashamed that I had nothing better.

"Ms. Helena, it's perfect! How much do you want for it?" I tried to tell him that he didn't need to pay me, that it was a gift, but he would have none of that. We finally settled on $150. He took the ring eagerly and ran out. It was okay; he deserved a break. The next week, Wally came in and asked for the next few weeks off.

"Are you finally getting married?"

"YesyesyesYES! Oh my gosh, I've been waiting for this day so long and—"

"Slow down," I interrupted, laughing. He was such a sweet boy, so passionate and lively.

"Sorry Ms. Helena. Do you want to come?"

I smiled sadly at him as he handed me the invitation. "I'm sorry dear, my daughter invited me out that day. But best wishes to you both."

Wally didn't come in the next week, nor the week after that. I let it slide; after all, he was a newlywed. I didn't think much of it. He was young. He didn't need to be tied down to an old bag like me.

One day, a young man came in. I remember him clearly: he wore a navy blue button down shirt with dark jeans. He had black hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen, marred by redness. Poor thing, he looked so sad.

"Can I help you, dearie?"

He seemed to be in shock. He responded after a few seconds. "Yeah, I was wondering if I could sell you this ring." He handed me a small, black velvet box.

"Was it your mother's?"

"Husband's, actually. He…he passed away recently." His voice caught in his throat.

He couldn't have been more than twenty. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"No, it's fine, thank you. He was…he died a hero, and that's all he ever asked for."

"If I may,"I asked tentatively, "would you tell me his story? I'd love to know more about this hero."

He sniffled slightly. "I actually can't, ma'am. It's…classified." Intriguing.

"No matter, dear. How much do you want for it?"

He was silent for a moment. "Actually, just keep it. I don't need the money." He walked out briskly, refusing to look back.

I opened the box. Amid the velvety cushion was a simple gold ring with a single diamond inlaid in it. My ring.

I can't ever just write something happy, can I? Oh well, feedback is appreciated.