Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zatanna’s nightmares used to be classic ones. Falling from the sky, running from beasts trying to eat her, drowning, something moving in the dark. But those dreams were gone, replaced by cold metal and a gold helmet concealing the face of her father. Sometimes just horror, more a feeling than a moment — but not tonight. She had one dream that kept coming back, that she was sure would haunt her for the rest of her life.

In the dream, Zatanna was back to the day she lost her father.

And she wore the helmet.

But this time, she saw and remembered everything. Somehow, what had happened had imprinted itself in her memory, despite not remembering it when it had first happened. She wondered if this was some form of punishment, but she really had no way of knowing.

“Fate!” her father said, from the ground below her. “Great Nabu. Release my daughter.”

Trapped inside her mind, she stared down from high above, hearing Doctor Fate’s words coming out of her mouth. “No.” The sound vibrated through the air. “Witness the havoc wrought in these hours. The world needs Doctor Fate, and the girl’s natural affinity for the mystic arts makes her the perfect candidate.” Zatanna screamed inside her mind, desperate to get out, get out — she’d done it willingly, she couldn’t regret it if it saved others from the same fate, but she didn’t want to be trapped forever.

Artemis and Robin both spoke, their words barely registering to Doctor Fate — and Zatanna, trapped inside. Only Wally’s words cut through. “Kent would never allow you—”

“Kent Nelson did object. Strenuously. So I released his spirit to the afterlife. He is gone.”

The look of horror on Wally’s face was something she never forgot, awake or asleep. The whole group was silent, resigned — but not her father. He would never give up — would never stop trying to protect her, no matter what.

“Take me instead,” her father said. “My skills are already at their peak. My body is physically stronger, better able to withstand the strain of your power.”

“All true,” Doctor Fate said with Zatanna’s mouth,“but if I remove the helmet, what guarantee have I that you will don it?”

“My word,” he said, and spoke a spell. No — no, no, she wanted out but not like this — she couldn’t lose her father, she couldn’t—

And then Doctor Fate allowed her body to move towards the ground, and she felt her own hands reaching up to take off the helmet. A scream tore its way out of her throat the second it was under her control again, and she ran to her father, gripping the front of his shirt. In real life, she’d been more composed, but in her dream, she begged, cried — did everything she could.

This was were the dream split off.

On good nights, it worked. Her father said, “Yortsed eht temleh,” and it would blow up in a burst of fire, and she’d go home, safe and happy in her father’s arms.

Tonight was not a good night.

“Remember, I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. And she held him tighter, but he pushed her away. “Take care of my girl,” he said to the others that stood there.

“You have my word,” said Batman.

Her father began to lift the helmet, and she moved closer to him, trying one last time to change his mind. “No, please, this was my fault, dad, don’t — dad!”

He placed it over his head. Bright golden light poured out of the helmet, and when it faded, her father was gone.

Doctor Fate stood in front of her.

Zatanna fell to her knees, letting out a desperate sob as Doctor Fate left. She cried and cried until she couldn’t anymore. And then the dream fell away, replaced by silence and pain and darkness—

She didn’t scream as she sat up in bed, but it was a close thing. Zatanna pressed her hands over her mouth, trembling, trying not to let the tears fall.

It was dark in her bedroom. The blinds hadn’t been properly closed the night before, and strips of light  from the streetlamps outside came in through the window and illuminated the carpet, providing enough light to see by. Zatanna glanced over at Artemis, who was, thank god, still asleep. She pushed off the covers and stood on shaking legs, grabbing her housecoat and leaving the bedroom as quietly as she could, closing the door behind her.

The rest of the apartment was dark as well, and she made her way through it more by sense than by sight. In the kitchen, all she could see was the blinking lights of the stove clock: 4:27. She turned on the stove light, wincing in the sudden brightness, and grabbed a glass out of the cupboard.

She was filling it with water when she heard the bedroom door open again. She glanced up to see Artemis, still only wearing the loose t-shirt and men’s boxer shorts that she slept in. Zatanna wondered, briefly, if her girlfriend was cold — but they’d had the conversation before. Artemis didn’t often get cold at night.

“Nightmare?” asked Artemis, stopping at the kitchen door and leaning against the doorframe. Zatanna nodded, too still too shaken to speak, and took a long drink of the water she’d poured.

Her hands were still trembling, and as she set down the glass, it rattled against the counter. It was too dark to see clearly, but Zatanna thought she saw Artemis’s expression morph into something like pity.

Zatanna didn’t stop her when Artemis came closer and wrapped her arms around her waist, allowing Zatanna to press her face into Artemis’s shoulder. A few more tears leaked out of her closed eyes, dampening the cotton of Artemis’s shirt; she felt a brief moment of regret before being overwhelmed again with the memory of the nightmare and squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could. She wrapped her arms around Artemis’s back, breathing in the warmth and comfort of being in her girlfriend’s arms.

There were few places she felt truly safe — it was a part of the superhero lifestyle. But here, holding onto Artemis in the darkness in their kitchen, she felt like nothing bad could ever touch her again.

When Zatanna finally pulled away, she looked up at Artemis, and was sure that she looked like a disaster. But Artemis just kissed her, a soft brush of her lips, and said, softly, “Come back to bed.”

Zatanna followed Artemis back to their room and got into the bed with her. Artemis turned on the light for her, and she felt a surge of gratitude — she’d told Artemis near the beginning of their relationship, somewhat embarrassedly, that she couldn’t sleep well after a nightmare unless the light was on. Artemis had just nodded, and since then, she’d left it on every time without complaint.

It was these things — the small discomforts and adjustments — that made Zatanna realize that this was love and not just dating. It had been scary to consider, once; now, the knowledge of her feelings for Artemis and Artemis’s feelings for her — the knowledge of where she belonged, of where her home was — was the centre of her world. The only semblance of safety in a world that she knew, firsthand, was a very dark place sometimes.

Artemis reached up to brush her fingers through Zatanna’s hair, the motion soft and soothing. “Go to sleep, Z,” she said, voice soft and gentle. And Zatanna smiled, and closed her eyes, and when she fell asleep again, she didn’t dream at all.