Sylvia Wayne "Wildcat"

Gotham General Hospital

December 8, 2012

Wally was zipping up the back of the black dress I dawned as I leaned heavily on the window ledge to keep myself up. The cast on my left leg was heavy and near impossible to get around with, and it couldn't do anything with the fat cast on my left arm either. It was in a sling as well now that they put screws in my collarbone. I felt utterly weak, especially with the pain medication that I was on. Wally helped me put on an oversized coat that would fit over my cast and he helped me get into the wheelchair, my casted leg propped up. He covered my legs in a thick, black, blanket. I just wished they could cover my face. It was too hard to look at myself in the mirror with such black and purple bruising on my face and all over my body. Wally handed my a dry erase board and marker, but I just set it on my lap. I wanted to speak, but I couldn't. They had to wire my jaw shut.

"You ready to go?" Wally asked me. He was in a suit with a black tie. I nodded, reaching to my mouth, touching the wires over my teeth. Wally grabbed my hand and gently pulled it away from my mouth. "The doctor told you to stop touching those." He told me, and I narrowed my eyes at him, keeping my hands in my lap. He wheeled me out and down to the hospital entrance. They were letting me be checked out for a few hours for the funeral. But I had to come back to this place right after. I wasn't allowed to spend the night outside the hospital just yet.

When we got to the manor, I found that there had been a wide path in the snow shoveled so they could wheel me to the actual funeral and burial of our littlest bird. I sat with a stone cold face as a priest read bible passages over a black casket. Every so often, I would look around the grave at the other mourners. Aside from our family, Commissioner Gordon had brought Barbara, and my mother stood in the back, keeping a watchful eye on all of us. The vision of Clark Kent and Diana Prince standing on either side of my father, supporting him, was making me feel heavy. The solemn faces of the members of the Team and the Justice Leaguers were burning through my soul. But, I kept the tears back. I didn't want anyone to see me cry. It was enough that they saw me just as physically broken on the outside as I was on the inside. I had always though the person to break my heart would be Wally.

The cold, empty feeling crept through me more and more as the snow began to fall again. Light, little, white snowflakes were falling through the December air and people made speech after speech. What I wouldn't give to be able to speak here. I would give up speaking for the rest of my life if I could say something to Jason. I couldn't even say the single word, goodbye. The empty, cold feeling was taking over my being more and more until they finally lowered the the casket into the ground. I watched as they filled the grave with dirt, burying him. I took a deep breath as people started moving back to the manor for the little wake. I sat through person after person giving me condolences. A waiter offered me food, but I just opened my mouth to show him that it was wired shut. He seemed embarrassed and left me alone with my heavy heart.

The Teammates who knew my secret, and ultimately Batman's secret, were milling about the room until some decided to raise a glass to our fallen friend. They told stories, mindful not to give away the superhero nature of them. I started to feel a little bit better as it they told happy stories of Jason. But I only started to miss him more and more. I started to remember things I was trying not to think about to try and keep myself from crying.

I could hear movement in the kitchen, so I led Dick to our father and Alfred. But when we entered the kitchen, there was a third person. A small boy about the size Dick was last year, but my brother had grown to be taller than Wally this year by an inch or two, so he was sizably larger than this boy. This boy shared raven black hair with us, slightly longer than Dick's. This boy even had blue eyes, like Dick, and sharp cheekbones like my father and I. This kid, he seemed like a cross between my brother and I, but he didn't have the muscle definition, the cold, calculating look that we have perfected over the years, nor the confusion that my brother and I shared as we looked at this guest in our home.

"Sylvia, Dick," my father stepped up behind the boy, putting his hand on his shoulder, "this is Jason Todd, my new ward and the newest addition to our Family."

My father had just sprung that on us. We didn't know what to think of Jason. Who knew the kid who store the tires off the Batmobile was going to make a great Robin and an even greater little brother to Dick and I. We had a lot of first with him, like Christmas.

There was a fresh coating of snow outside, and we had started the day with a little family Christmas. Jason seemed like he didn't like the holiday, but when Alfred and I made a big Christmas breakfast, he drifted into the kitchen, smelling the cinnamon french toast, bacon, the little cinnamon rolls, the eggs, everything, the look on his face was priceless. He had been dreading the family holiday the entire week before, and when it finally came, he finally seemed to feel like we were his new family. He had been so distant, barely talking to us and aggressively training with Bruce. But today, I was realizing this kid my father took in from the street, felt like he was having a real Christmas with a real family for the first time in a long time.

I remembered his two birthdays with us. He always thought we would forget, and he was so surprised that we remembered both times. Jason didn't even care about the presents. The happiest part of both days for him were just eating dinner as a family and blowing out the candles. The time I took him shopping to fill his closet with new things, he told me he had never owned more than a few pieces of old clothes. I just smiled at him and told him we were going to try every store and find his style. He just kept buying things to wear with the leather jacket he picked out for himself. He always wanted to help me with my homework whenever I was helping him, and he always liked to cook with Alfred and I. I started to miss how every morning he'd be the same bleary eyed Jason, the little sleep monster of the manor. In his flannel shirts and jeans every morning. I was refusing to give that feeling up. When Wally touched my shoulder and bent down to read my dry-erase board, I realised I had written, What about angels? I quickly erased it and wrote, take me to Jason's room. He nodded and wheeled me across the first floor to my little brother's room.

They place had been untouched. There were still clothes on the floor, books out of place, the sheets on his bed still messed up. I didn't know what to feel until I had Wally push me closer to my little brother's desk. I reached out with shaky hands to the ipod in the speaker dock. I noticed it was on pause. The moment I pressed play, wondering what was the last thing he listened to, the tears began to fall, and I couldn't stop. I began to sob loudly, groaning from the inability to open my mouth from the wires. The music filled the air with my sobs, the pit in my chest growing as I sobbed. It's only life.

You've been talking for hours

You say, "Time will wash every tower to the sea,"

And now you've got this worry in your heart

Well I guess it's only life, it's only natural

We all spend a little while going down the rabbit hole

The things they taught you, they're lining up to haunt you

You got your back against the wall

I call you on the telephone, won't you pick up the receiver?

I've been down the very road you're walking now

It doesn't have to be so dark and lonesome

It takes a while but we can figure this thing out

And turn it back around