Violet adores living.

She has second and third and fourth chances at living everyday, a feat no hero can truly claim. Unless Catwoman really does have nine lives like Harper told her.

She loves the late night Full House marathons, and Artemis's moonlit smile, and Nightwing's secret winks when he secretly ( shhhh ) sneaks her more ice cream way past her assigned bed-time.

"You deserve it, kiddo," he laughs to her, and Violet feels a warmth in her chest. "My baby brother makes those exact same eyes whenever he wants to be spoiled."

She loves hearing Forager's lil plink-plink-plinks when he scurries across the yard, and Brion's snorts when he laughs far too improper than a blah blah Prince of the Beloved Markovia blah blah should. Not to mention Jefferson's scraggly beard that always tickles her when she hugs him and Helga's crooked glasses across the bridge of her nose.

So logically, it should be a surprise when she discovers she perhaps does not adore going on missions, when in fact the whole gosh-darn reason she's here is to help-comfort-save.

Pardon her language, astafirullah .

Violet is too busy picking at the tight-tight-tight material of her costume when Artemis pauses the television. Uncle Jesse's face permanently stares hunkily into the camera.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" Artemis asks, gently in that way she always seems to act around Violet.

"Hm? Oh, yes!" Violet frantically assures, smiling over the fuzzy pink blanket Jefferson threw over her. "It is just…" Violet trails off, but Artemis's nut-brown eyes still focus on her. Huffing, Violet throws herself over Artemis's lap, feeling archer-thin fingers softly tracing her nose.

"I enjoy looking-fighting-saving, but whenever I'm in the air, or making a shield, or just standing, I cannot help but feel...itchy." Artemis makes an encouraging croon at the back of her throat. Go on.

"And it is so strange! Because whenever I am not Halo-at-missions but Violet-at-home or Violet-at-school, I feel, um…" Violet can't conjure up a word to accurately describe her emotions. Her eyes light up, and she sits up, looking at Artemis with a wide grin.

"Asterous!"

"Looks like somebody's been spending too much time with Wonder Boy there." Artemis chuckles, and pulls Halo more securely into her lap Batman-Robin style like the affection-starved parents they were.

"Well, what's different about Halo-at-missions and Violet-at-home?"

Violet taps her finger against her lips, her fingers still grasping at her tight-tight-tight costume. "I think it's my clothes." she finally confesses. "The costume is too tight-tight-tight. I don't feel good in it."

Artemis gently bumps her head at Violet's pout. "That's an easy fix, Vi. Yikes, actually, I'm the one who should be sorry."

Violet's head tilts cutely to the side and wow she can now understand why Dick always coos over Jason and Timmy and Cass. There's just something about children looking up with big bright eyes and boopable noses. Nevertheless, she digresses. "We know you're Muslim, honey, and we should have consulted you first."

Violet gently bumps her head back like Batman whenever his children recover from danger and he must push down his "protect babies at all costs" protocol.

Three days later Halo soars the sky in a loose-fitting cloth over an armored under-suit, the itch that was simmering under her skin disappearing with every graceful fly.

She smiles.