This is a story based on Headcanon 246 from the Young Justice Headcanons blog on Tumblr. You can read the headcanon by going to .com and searching in the archives for it. It's a great blog to boot.

Hope.

It was Hope that propelled Zatanna's actions that Father's Day. She forced herself to wake up at 7:00 because she knew that it took an hour for her to properly get ready, and 8:00 was the perfect time to leave for the grocery store if she wanted enough time to gather the ingredients for the meal she wished to prepare. Once she was dressed in her civilian clothes, Zatanna stood before her mirror and whispered, "Ekat em ot S'llednar Yrecorg."

In a brief flash, Zatanna was forced to adjust her vision from her room in the Watchtower to Randell's Grocery, which had been Zatara's favorite place to buy food for family meals when Zatanna was a little girl. He would always bring her along, and explain which ingredients he was buying and why, going to great lengths to indoctrinate her with a love for cooking. It had paid off, because even eleven years later, Zatanna was able to walk through the aisles and pick out materials through mere muscle memory and recall which foodstuffs made which delicious meals.

As she moved about the store, Zatanna could still see the phantom of her father laughing to her much younger self, saying, "Look at this, Zatanna! Pop nroc!" She remembered that day clearly, as a bag of popcorn began to heat and burst in mere seconds. Zatara had taken the bag, muttered "Looc ylthgils," and then handed her the popcorn. She had munched on it happily through the rest of the shopping trip, while her father smiled and paid the befuddled cashier for the bag. Zatanna was only mildly upset to see that they no longer stocked that specific brand of popcorn.

It took her about four hours to fill the shopping cart with every perfect ingredient for Father's Day dinner, and even then Zatanna worried that something was amiss. I suppose I could always summon an ingredient I forget, she mused as the cashier rung the groceries through. But still…dad would never need to do that because he never forgot anything. Zatanna paid, gathered the bags, and left the store, dashing into the side alley so she would not be seen as she transported herself to the house that she and her father used to live in. Batman had seen to its continued upkeep, promising Zatanna that it would be just as the Zataras had left it the day her father put on the Helmet.

True to his word, the house was almost exactly the same as Zatanna had closed the door on it five years ago. There were some obvious signs of intrusion, like chairs pulled out to clean under a desk, or replaced curtains and blankets over the furniture, but all the changes were made with items that belonged to her father. There was a faded memory of him clapping from a rocking chair as Zatanna levitated a bunny with her wand. She shook her head quickly before the tears came and rushed into the kitchen.

The next three hours were spent sweating over a stove, cooking the chicken while simultaneously preparing rice, corn, salad, stuffing, and sorbet as she absentmindedly said, "Nummos dellihc der eniw," the end result being her father's favorite dinner creation. As she appraised the final product on the kitchen table, Zatanna worried that she hadn't used enough salt on the corn and that the seasoning for the chicken would be far too strong. Her father had spent years making this dish on special occasions and had perfected it, so all she could hope for was a passable imitation. She was sure that Nightwing, Raquel, and Artemis would call it the greatest dinner ever made, while M'gann gushed and demanded that she share the recipe as Conner and Wally asked for seconds, but as much as she loved them, their opinions did not matter that day. So she said the spell that would bring her a little closer to some semblance of normalcy: "Tropsnart em ot eht Rewothctaw."

After the familiar flash, Zatanna was standing back in the Watchtower. She had expected this; what she had not expected was teleporting directly in front of Doctor Fate, who was wearing a look of mild interest in her father's eyes. "Good day, Zatanna Zatara," he said as he moved to walk past her. She tried to speak, but was not ready to confront him so soon, having hoped for at least five minutes to regain her composure. But here he was, and there he was going, past her and down the hall, oblivious to her struggle and about to continue on with his day and disregard any future attempts at conversation as he always did.

It would all go to waste if she did not act.

"Wait!" she shouted after him.

Doctor Fate stopped, turning around and tilting his head. "Yes?"

Her hands balled into clenched fists at her side. "I…well, you see…it's Father's Day…and I made some dinner. I mean, it's nothing special, but I…was wondering if you wanted to come to my house and…I don't know, share it with me. I just want to spend Father's Day with my father." The last statement had slipped out of its own volition, but she was not ashamed of it.

"Miss Zatanna, I am sorry," Doctor Fate began, "but I am not your father." Zatanna's heart sunk and her lungs constricted. She didn't even try to block the tears; hearing the layer of Zatara's voice under Nabu's say the words…it was too much for her.

She swallowed once. "That's…okay. I understand."

Doctor Fate merely stared, but then added, "If it is any consolation, I could tell Zatara that you wish him a happy Father's Day." Zatanna could only nod, and Doctor Fate turned and continued to walk away.

Before she could turn and break down completely, Zatanna managed to transport herself back to the house. She collapsed on the couch and cried, unable to muster up the energy to clear the meal even after it went from being warm to cold. The time that passed was not noted, and she was surprised to see that it was late at night when someone knocked on the door. Still, she did not move to answer it.

"Zee?" Nightwing called from outside. "Zee…listen, Raquel heard what happened from her room and called me about it." She heard him take a measured breath. "I'm sorry. Could you let me in? We can talk."

"I don't want to talk about this," she shouted back.

There was a pause on the other side of the door, and Zatanna was sure that Nightwing had left, but then he spoke just loud enough to be heard. "I can understand what it's like not having your father on Father's Day." Zatanna stood and moved closer to the door, wiping her tears. "Batman has been like a father to me since I was taken in by him, but my real father died along with my mother when I was nine. And no matter how much Batman treats me like his son and how much I appreciate him for that, there's no replacement for the original this time of year."

It was this simple admission of something so deep and private that led Zatanna to open the door. She threw her arms around Nightwing before he could react. He placed one hand on her back and the other on top of her head, gently brushing her hair. "You shouldn't have to be alone right now," he whispered. "When these things happen, it's nice to just have someone listen."

She buried her face into his armor, and cried again. "You're willing to just sit and talk?"

He laughed a little. "I'll sit on that couch all night, Zee, if the stories go long enough."