Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to DC Comics.
The deafening shots, the blood-curdling scream, and of course, the uproarious cackles that only belonged to the notorious Joker would forever reside with Stephanie Brown, along with Timothy Drake.
Too young, most would say. Too young to live life to its fullest, only to be damaged by the hand of something sinister, yet something so very real. Too stupid—almost
everyone believed—too ignorant to perceive the limits of invulnerability and its costs. But, most importantly, too late, and she would never forgive herself for that.
The poor boy was most likely expecting his only savior; his last chance of "hope".
"Sorry to break it to you, Boy Wonder," Stephanie sniffed, "but I guess it's too late for me and my white-horse to come around, huh…?"
Bitter silence hung in the air, everything remaining still except for Stephanie's hand angrily wiping away the salty tears that stained her cheeks.
She was found hovering over the constant reminder of her biggest mistake: his gravestone.
"Here lies Timothy Jackson Drake,
"Son of Jack and Janet Drake
He did not die in vain,
But for the sake of others."
Within the pit of her stomach, Stephanie Brown knew that she was implied as "other".
On that tragic day, Timothy Drake willingly sacrificed himself in place of Steph. If it wasn't for Selfish Wonder—Stephanie had nicknamed him—she would be in his place right now.
It was a beautiful Friday afternoon: the sun spreading its delightful warmth, birds warbling peaceful melodies in the trees, and it was also the day of a very popular holiday.
"So, Dork Wonder, I'm only taking a fair guess you don't know what today is—considering the fact that you're always so busy and whatnot," the blonde murmured, biting on her lower lip.
Between her nimble fingers was a single rose—eggplant of course—ever so delicate with a certain aroma she found utterly satisfying.
"Just in case you forgot, it's Valentine's Day. And…I've been meaning to tell you that I've always loved you, despite your sacrificial decisions," she crooned, voice nearly on the verge of breaking.
"Never stopped, never will . . . I know something happened between us two whatever-we-were's, but I just wanted to tell you how I feel—or at least felt."
A moment of silence that she wished didn't exist lingered through the air once more, as the woman released a breath from her trembling lips.
"I should have told you sooner . . . But overall, I wish it would have been me."
As a droplet of sorrowfulness touched the soft soil, her figure hunched down to place the rose upon his grave.
"Would you do the honor of being my valentine?"
At this point, she was desperate; wanted something, a sign, a thought-you'd-never-ask, really anything.
It was only then, when a scarlet robin perched upon the head of the stone, that Stephanie truly cried.
