Hey guys!

Disclaimer: If I owned Young Justice, the cave would have never been blown up and my favorite characters would be happy, not sad. So, no. I don't own it.

Thanks as always to my awesome beta, EmmaLemon!

See you at the bottom!

She'd never believed in fate.

Destiny was just an excuse to sit around and wait for things to happen, and Ava wasn't that kind of person. She had to control her future; in her world, if she let someone else control her, she would have died a thousand times over, none of the deaths would have been pleasant. So, really, she thought it made sense that she had to come back, even though it meant leaving behind so many people who needed her. The world needed heroes, and, well, even if it sounded so stupid in her head, she is one of the only heroes that people recognized. She was Nightwing, the reincarnation of the bright blue bird who flew through the darkness of the world with ease. She was a symbol, something that couldn't die, even if the person behind the mask did. That was the point.

And even though she felt so guilty for coming back, for every second that she spent in this world, she knew that it was necessary.

She had to. If she and Bart succeeded, Ava could fix everything. She could give Rex back his wings, and make sure that K'renn and Jace can have a relationship that consists of more than stolen glances in the brief respite between missions, and put plates and plates of food in front of Bart as he is surrounded by his family, his true family, and, she almost hates to admit it because it's really selfish, but she really is kind of doing this for herself, for her family, because she's always wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by all of them at once, listen to them tell stories without sadness in their voices, watch them demonstrate moves without an undercurrent of tension and fear that shows exactly how much her life may depend on learning everything they know.

She wanted—needed—to feel that.

Ava's not stupid, nor was she deluded. She knew that if she succeeded, this version of her, the girl that she is, would not exist. She was on a suicide mission. For whatever reason, though, Ava couldn't bring herself to care. She's… She's so tired of the world, now. She was only fifteen, but she had seen so much, too much, and Ava didn't think that she'd ever be able to get the images out of her head. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she'd close her eyes and see it all, everything that she wanted so badly to forget. Ava wondered if everyone was like this, if people's thoughts and experiences echo sadly through their mind forever. It was painful and achingly beautiful because, even though she'd seen the worst the world had to offer, she'd seen the most wonderful, too. Bart could make it better, sometimes, help her to live in the moment and just stop thinking. It was… nice, she thought, that she had someone who could do that for her.

Despite the fact that she was trying desperately to ignore it, Ava was scared. Terrified. She was scared for herself, for her life, because she didn't want to become nothing, even if she was already dead. She hated, too, that she didn't know what was going to happen. There were so many variables, so many possible outcomes that she couldn't just not think about them because some of them are so horrible to think about.

She knew what would happen if she failed, but she was so scared that if she succeeded, nothing would work out the way she'd always hoped it will. Ava could still lose her parents. She could never be born, period. She could lose Bart, or worse, they could end up never meeting. Maybe in the future, she wouldn't be Ava. Maybe she'd be a Cynthia, or a Diane. She might have red hair. Her favorite color could be green. Or, possibly, everything would work out perfectly, and she was just thinking too much.

Ava didn't know much anymore. She knew that she's seen so many marvelous things in her life that she has to wonder if she'd be ruining it all, taking away her loved one's many chances to live. There was something bittersweet about the way she'd seen the best of humankind, about the way that so many people were just… people. They weren't strictly good or bad, they were a mix of grays, and even though everything, every variable, would make it seem like they'd lose all hope, start becoming a vindictive, every man for himself species, they were still amazingly human in their actions. She'd seen achingly brave and beautiful people in her life, and even though it hurt so much to think about it, she did anyway.

She remembered an old woman, blinded in the original attack, sitting in the center of refugee centers and trying to put tales of hope in children's heads, even when the Reach threatened to kill her every time they saw her doing it. (She remembered, too, the day that Ava walked into an alley and saw that old woman's body, slick with blood and, hopefully, finally out of the perpetual darkness she'd lived in for years.) If she closed her eyes, Ava could see a young boy, emaciated to the point of being skeletal, and she could see him handing over a crust of bread, his only food for the day, to a smaller girl, eyes dim and dispirited. (She always tried to open her eyes before she saw her next memory of him, but somehow the image of him, cold and peaceful in death as he'd never been in life, leaning against the wall of an old building with his eyes halfway closed, always stayed branded on her eyes.) And Ava saw so many more, but for some reason, this time her mind went to Nathaniel, and to the many dark nights spent in that abandoned library, and, oddly, this is the most potent memory of all.

Behind her closed eyelids, Nathaniel spoke softly into the darkness. "You do realize that if everything goes according to plan, you won't exist anymore, don't you?"

Ava looked up and met his eyes, and she realized suddenly that Nathaniel won't exist either, not this Nathaniel, maybe not at all. It ached, how much he was willing to give, to risk, on a halfway thought out plan, so Ava nodded slowly and told him that, yes, she did, and yes, she was still going to go through it. And she would, because, no matter how crazy it was, no matter how truly screwed up the world may always be, humans are such an odd breed, willing to do so much for each other, and she thought that maybe, no matter how many perks being an alien had, she'd always be perfectly happy to be a human. If she always exists, that is.

Ava opened her eyes slowly, letting the memories fade as she came back to the present.

She took a deep breath and sat up on her bed, resting her elbows on her knees. Studying her hands, she looked at all of her scars, breathed every story, every battle, in, and slowly exhaled. Ava closed her eyes and fixed an image of her friends, happy and together for once, in her head before she stood and walked over to the mirror. Looking at the dark-haired girl reflected there, she took a deep breath.

"You are dead," she informed herself. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

Later that night, Bluejay (Not Nightwing, she told herself again. Not anymore.) was hidden in the shadowy ceiling of S.T.A.R. Labs. The security in this part of the lab was lax compared to the other areas in the building, which is why she needed to be here. Any halfway decent thief could make off with some of the projects in this room. Ava kept her eyes moving, not letting them settle in one place for too long lest the thief come in a way she hadn't expected and dart off with the prize before she could prevent them from ruining the future.

Of course, the future didn't rest solely on the recovery of this object, but Ava could hope.

A figure, glowing slightly, slowly materialized and emerged from the floor. Once returned to his solid state of matter, the man walked quickly to a cabinet and begun searching for what he needed. Bluejay dropped down near-silently behind him. The man showed no reaction, muttering to himself as he scans the names of the isotopes.

"What's going to happen if you don't get the M-23 compound?" Ava asked, crossing her arms and waiting for the man's reaction.

He didn't disappoint, jumping, cursing, and whipping a gun out of his belt. Bluejay ducked and twisted it out of his grip, quickly disassembling it before tossing it on the floor. She crossed her arms again and glared at the man, waiting for his answer.

"Who're you?" he demanded, face moving beneath his molecular-destabilizing suit of silver and black. "Haven't seen you on the news."

Bluejay placed a small smile on her face to throw him off. "I'm new."

She kicked his feet out from under him and slammed her foot against the control that allows him to become intangible. It shattered, and Bluejay picked the man up slightly by the suit collar.

"Now, if you're smart, you'll tell me why you need that isotope," she telled him shortly. "If not, I'll drop you off the roof and leave you for the cops."

"The fall wouldn't kill me," he said, faking bravado.

"Oh, I know. Only break whatever bones you land on. Have you ever had a vertical break on your ankles? I hear it's very painful. Practically impossible to heal with just prison doctors."

She was bluffing, but she hoped he didn't know it.

He didn't, it seemed.

"P-Please, I had no choice!" he said frantically, shaking his head back and forth, eyes wide behind the thin suit. "If I don't get it, I'll die!"

Bluejay nodded inwardly. Nice one, Nathaniel. Outwardly, though, she remained calm.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"I-I-I'm slowly deteriorating. My body is killing itself because of exposure to the lab elements I work with, a-and this isotope will stop that! That's the only reason, I swear!"

Ava reached into her back pocket, pulling out a small vial. "This will, too. Chemically enhanced tenebrosius syrup."

He stared at it in wonder. "But I thought—"

"It is extinct. Just take it, okay? It should fix your problem. And, as for the isotope," Bluejay leaned close to the man's face, narrowing her eyes, "It stays where it is. Got it?"

He nodded repeatedly, taking the tiny vial and holding it reverently. "Who are you?"

She ignored him, shooting a grappling line to the window that had been her entrance. She could hear him gasp behind her when she flipped through the small opening gracefully, but Ava didn't glance back. As she landed on the roof, she looked at the sky again, mentally putting a check in a blank box. Number one, check. Leaping off the roof and into the darkness behind the Labs, she landed beside a blue and black bike acquired from Batman before climbing aboard and taking off.

Only infinite variables to go.

She made sure to change out of her costume before she arrived back at the mountain. One of the only thing that could make her night turn out bad was if someone figured out what she was doing and called her out on the reason why. Running a hand through her dark hair, Ava walked down the corridor of the newly-rebuilt mountain, hardly paying attention to her surroundings.

"Ava."

She bit back a curse and turned to glare at the Dark Knight. "Could you scuff your feet a bit as you walk, or something?"

He didn't show any reaction. "We need to talk."

Ava sighed and followed him as he turns on his heel, black cape billowing behind him until he entered a side room and shut the door behind her. Her eyes darted around, quickly taking in the small room, evidently for storage by the look of it. Batman faced her, the whites of his mask narrowed.

"You changed the future tonight, didn't you?" he asked in his gravelly growl.

Ava let out a long breath. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"It would create a space-time paradox, and that is the last thing I want on my hands right now."

Batman's signature glare softened ever-so-slightly. "Ava, do you realize what you could do to yourself, trying to change the future?"

Ava feigned innocence. "Sorry?"

"You could cease to exist. There's a likelihood that you've already changed your future enough to change your childhood significantly, but you still might be able to save yourself." He paused for breath, and Ava took this opportunity to interrupt him.

"I know," she said softly, not looking away from his eyes.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Trust me when I say that you don't know that whole story."

"You could die—"

Ava snapped. "I already am dead, Batman! Don't you get that? I've changed enough so that me, this girl you're looking at, will never exist. And, yes, I'm terrified that I might screw up, and never be born or ruin the lives of my friends and family, but I have no choice in the matter! And, frankly, talking to you about all of this—" she gestured at the air to encompass the general conversation—"is only going to make things worse." Ava took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "If you'll excuse me, I have to finish picking out my outfit for school tomorrow. It is my first day, after all."

She swiftly left the room, not looking back because she was afraid of the expression she might see on her grandfather's face. When she reached her room, she leaned against the shut door before throwing herself on her bed.

She stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night, contemplating human nature.

A/N: Hey, everyone! Long time, no write! Well, actually, I've been doing a ton of writing (NaNo, anyone?) ((Completely unrelated to this story, but I finished! 161% through with my NaNoWriMo goal! :)), but nothing on this story for a month. And let me tell you, it is extremely refreshing to be back on FF. I've missed getting inspiring reviews from everyone on my writing (hint, hint), and I just can't wait to get back in the groove on this story. I probably could have posted some of this during the bulk of November, but whenever I found time to write fanfiction, something completely unrelated (all Young Justice, though) would come out of my fingers. I may or may not post some of them, depending on what you guys think.

Okay, well, I think that's everything. As always, thank you so much for all the reviews and favorites and follows that I get. They make me happier than you could imagine. :) See you at the next update! (Should be weekly, again.)

Yours writerly and in happiness,

WNF

EDIT: As of 11/4/2014, I feel obligated to tell everyone that this story will likely never be completed. I really wish that I had the time and inspiration to keep going, but college has drained away both, and I'm no longer the same person who started this story. I don't think I could do it justice at this point, and the last thing I want to do is try to finish this story and ruin it for everyone. I understand your frustration; we've all read those stories that will never be updated, and I'm sorry to become one of them. For the last time, I would like to thank everyone who has read this story, and especially those of you that reviewed, followed, and fave'd. It really means a lot. For old time's sake, I think I'll sign out for the last time with the old signature.

Yours writerly,

WNF