Title: Stories to Tell
Author: MizzMarvel (Mackenzie) For: Silverunderglass
Character: Arrowette (gen)
Fandom: DCU/Young Justice
Rating: PG
Summary: Cissie contemplates her place in the history of Young Justice
Notes: Set during the current run of Teen Titans.

St. Elias' School for Girls is normally very quiet. Well, correction - Cissie's room at St. Elias' is quiet. She is vaguely aware that the other girls raid each others' rooms, play pranks, and run giggling down the halls of the dorm sometimes, which is probably to be expected. The one time the other students came to ask her to join them, she made the mistake of answer the door with her bow still in hand, strings freshly tightened; now they just don't come knocking anymore.

Greta assures her that there's nothing wrong with this, that they don't come to her room either, but somehow Cissie isn't reassured.

But anyway, the quiet. It is quiet now, as it always is, but it won't be for long. Cissie sits on her bed, cross-legged, waiting for the break. It's going to come. The quiet is going to end soon. It has to - it's Sunday night.

Cassie comes back on Sunday nights, and the first place she stops is Cissie's room. She knocks, comes in, and they chat. At first, when Cassie had just started at St. Elias, it had been almost like the old Young Justice days, with their nearly weekly slumber parties, but soon a pattern emerged. On these Sundays, Cissie talks about her weekend - archery practice, homework, sometimes going out with Greta or talking to her mom - and Cassie talks about hers. Seeing as she spends every weekend being with the Teen Titans, well...Cissie has never claimed to be a rocket scientist, but she quickly figured out what the bulk of the subject matter was going to be.

And it's not like Cissie can blame Cassie. She's spent some long nights sitting up, giving minute-by-minute accounts of battles, even when Cassie was _there_ and knew what happened. It's embarrassing to think about now.

Because as far as Cissie can tell, her only lasting contribution to Young Justice was her great hair. Really, it was the best of the whole team, while she was a member. Bart came in as a surprisingly close second, but it is her own long hair, split end-free, shining, and golden, that stands out in a sea of brunettes, in those few group pictures she appears in. She remembers cursing herself some nights, washing and conditioning her hair with bleeding fingers because it was a force of habit, but now she doesn't regret the old pain. At least there is something that, when Young Justice is in the history books and Cissie is only a footnote, will make someone stop and notice her face.

And she can be content with that, she supposes. It just sort of hurts to look back on things and realize how unnecessary she was to the team. The present is making that painfully clear; Cassie, Kon, Bart, and Tim have made themselves into a strong, fairly fluid team all on their own, with just a few other additions, people Cissie doesn't really know. She remembers that after she left Young Justice Cassie used to beg her to come back and fight with them again. That doesn't happen anymore.

Greta doesn't understand. She'd only been involved with Young Justice out of necessity anyway, when you got right down to it, though she did ask, once, very shyly, wistfully, what it'd felt like to kiss Tim. She got quiet again when Cissie told her that she didn't remember.

But then, Young Justice hadn't been about being boys and girls, had it? Maybe, Cissie thinks, she is a hypocrite for thinking so; she did kiss Tim that once, after all, and she'd flirted with Kon, but what stands out most in her mind is all of them being friends. She still considers them all her friends, but St. Elias is a different world; she hardly ever gets in contact with the boys. The 'just-being-friends' thing is over anyway.

One time, Cassie got really involved with describing a date with Kon. Apparently, they'd been at a movie, and took advantage of the dark. It was no big deal - how many teenagers, past, present, future, have been felt up by their boyfriends by the flickering light of the movie screen?

But Cassie had looked so enchanted, so thrilled, even a little proud, that Cissie broke in with, "When I first met Superboy, I thought he was a little gay."

A lie, yes, and it caused Cassie to leave the room in something of a huff, but it felt good. Cissie just wished she knew why she felt the need to say it.

She has enough self-awareness to realize that she wants things to be like they were before, and enough sense to understand that that's not going to be. She is mature enough to realize that she was the one who made things change, originally, by leaving the team in the first place, and has paid enough attention in English class to know that dramatic irony entails that she be the one to suffer for it.

These days, Cassie brings back breathless stories of the Teen Titans, Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, and Cyborg, Brother Blood and San Francisco. Every week there's a new tale, all about people Cissie has never met before or that she feels she no longer knows. She listens to it all, every time, no complaints.

Once, though, she unthinkingly said, "Remember that time with Harm?"

And immediately, the room fell silent, the air thick with awkwardness and embarrassment. It was the wrong thing to say; it was so long ago, it has nothing to do with now. The next week, Cissie didn't add anything, just nodded along to the story.

Part of her wants to tell Cassie how it felt at the Olympics, to win a gold medal. Yes, Cassie was there, but she didn't feel it, or the aftermath. Cissie wants to describe precisely how the applause of thousands of people - applauding for her - rang through her bones for hours, days. She wants to show Cassie how people still stop her on the street for her autograph, how she eats Wheaties from a box with her picture on the front.

Cassie may still be a hero, but as far as people are concerned, Cissie is one too, but with no strings attached, no expectations of saving the world. To them, she may not be a Titan, but she's still a champion.

And she can live with that, she supposes.

But that story, that explanation will be in the future, someday. Now, it is Sunday night, and the world is just getting dark around the edges. Cissie can faintly hear the footsteps coming down the hall, heading this way.

She sits, bracing herself, and waits for the knock.