A/N: This is kind of like Rekmas, except canon-compliant and less depressing.

Again, it's an exercise in how different individuals cope with grief. I chose to do the original team members (from season one), otherwise I would have included Bart and other members of the Flash family.

The title of course comes from the movie, Casablanca. Other references include: Star Wars, Macbeth, Cosmos, and The Evil Dead.

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Characters belong to DC minus B'ron D'card, who is an OC.

Wally

But please remember me, fondly

I heard from someone you're still pretty

And then they went on to say that the Pearly Gates

Had some eloquent graffiti

Like 'We'll meet again' and 'Fuck the man'

And 'Tell my mother not to worry'

-Iron and Wine 'The Trapeze Swinger'

I was just guessing at numbers and figures

pulling the puzzles apart

Questions of science

science and progress

do not speak as loud as my heart

-Coldplay 'The Scientist'

"It is always sad when someone leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice-cream sandwiches."

-Lemony Snicket

Dick

Dick fumbles the dismount and lands on his knees. He slaps the ground in frustration and tries again. This time he skids on his elbows. He lets out a grunt that comes out as a scream. He gets up and runs for the bars. One flip, two, his fingers slip on the bars. He lands, winded on the mats and watches tiny suns explode before his quickly blurring vision.

"Damnit. Fucking damn it all."

"Dick." It's Bruce.

He can't see him, but years of training have him tracking the older man's steps. Bruce approaches him like a wounded animal. His hands are outstretched for Dick to grab once he comes into view.

"Dick. I'm sorry about Wally."

"We could've... I should have guessed. Should have had more time. Needed more people. Why were you gone so long?!"

Bruce doesn't even flinch. He keeps his palms down and his body bent. Dick rubs at his quickly blotching face.

His voice cracks, "How can I fix it, Daddy?"

Bruce drops to the mat beside him. Dick crawls onto his chest and presses his face to the dark cloth of his shirt. Strong fingers comb through his hair. He doesn't think Bruce will answer.

"You can't fix death, Son. Trust me, I've tried."

It's then that he loses hope and really begins to grieve.

Artemis

Lian chews on her ponytail while Jade makes chili in the next room and it's like every other Sunday in the world. Only Roy and Wally aren't flicking rubber bands at each other from across the room. Roy and Roy 2 seem to be speaking to each other, but it just comes out as,

"Grunt whine mumble grumble trust issues."

"Grunt grunt Ollie."

And she's so fucking tired of Red Arrows and their bullshit.

Actually she's just tired. Tired of feeling like she's run a marathon without breathing. Tired of the image of empty snow and the realization that he's gone. They run through her head and maybe that's the marathon she's trying to keep up with. But she really needs to breathe soon and god this apartment is stifling.

She drops her niece on Roy's lap and crawls out to the fire escape. Gotham is chilly this time (every time) of year, but it's warmer than the Antartic.

Why can't she stop thinking about it?

She remembers Canary's patient stare as she sat in a too big chair, pretending not to be traumatized by her own death. Dinah told her about the extreme reactions of her teammates. M'gann was so upset that she became a vengeful monster-

No wait, that was the second time Artemis died.

Why isn't anyone that angry now? Why does no one else care? They just keep going like it's business as usual.

Her fist connects with the rusty iron bar and for a moment the pain shooting through her knuckles is enough to distract her from Wally.

She does it again and again until a hand stops her. Jade gently handles the bruised and bloody flesh, "Supper's ready."

There are fresh bandages in the bathroom and Artemis looks down with shame as her sister binds her hands. She doesn't expect the wet kiss she receives instead of a slap.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

She doesn't mean her hands.

Kaldur

The Team and the League are working at perfect efficiency. The Earth and sea are being repaired and the news from Mars has been nothing but positive. Kaldur's performance shows no sign of distraction or pause.

He cries himself to sleep most nights. He tries to keep it to quiet hiccups, but more often than not finds that he is unable to stop weeping like an infant. The act leaves him tired and dehydrated. He considers returning to Atlantis to avoid drying out. His mother is there and she will see through the calm facade.

That's something he can't afford right now.

Kaldur enters the Watchtower to find Canary and Batgirl sparring. Canary has Batgirl pinned in four moves, but the younger woman manages to flip them using her height to the advantage.

"I assume there is nothing to report." He says.

They flush and break apart. Batgirl goes back to watching the feeds and Canary says something about preparing for a press meeting. He feels as if he has intruded on more than just sparring. Instead of remarking upon it, he checks the feeds and presses his hands to his eyes.

"You know. You can take some time off. Dinah and I can handle it."

"Has my perfomance been unsatisfactory?"

"Kaldur, one of your oldest friends just died. Take some time off like everyone else."

He bristles and she raises her hands in defense.

"Just a suggestion."

"Your clan aren't in any position to suggest how to cope with grief properly."

Barbara turns as red as her hair and Kaldur wants her to fight back. He wants to point the agression and blame at someone else. The feeling seeps out of him as quickly as it entered and he is left more tired than before.

"I'm sorry, Batgirl. Perhaps you are right."

Even at the bottom of the ocean he feels less like the pressure of the world is trying to drown him. He keeps having dreams of red hair and laughter. Tula embraces him and tells him that she needs to go. Wally waves from the bow of the ship they're leaving on.

He's shouting something to him but the wind catches his words and takes them away. Kaldur can't help but feel like he's saying something important.

It's probably just 'Goodbye'. Kaldur awakes and shuffles through the photos on his phone. It's one of Wally passed out on the couch back at the cave. He looks so young and small. One arm is wrapped in a cast and he can see the red of Captain Marvel's costume in the kitchen.

He needs to concentrate on the mission. The mission is never over.

Kaldur curls into himself and begins to cry.

Zatanna & Raquel

"Baby, are you coming to bed?"

Raquel stands in the doorway wearing nothing but a long T-shirt and sleep shorts. Usually the sight alone is enough to lead Zatanna around. Tonight is the current in a trend of late nights spent hunched over her father's old books.

"There's got to be something." She mutters.

"Zee, you're scaring me."

Fingers comb their way through sleek black hair and Zatanna closes her eyes. She leans her head back against Raquel.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault and it's not your responsibility."

"Wally always doubted magic, yet it could be the very thing to save him."

"Save him how? You've always said that there's no magic that can raise the dead."

"No, I said that there was no magic that could raise the dead that I would want to use."

"Same difference." Raquel folds her arms.

"The situation has changed." Her fingertips flutter against the pages of the book she's holding.

Raquel snatches the book away, then drops it as if burned. The pages whip closed to the cover. Carved into the hard leather is a grotesque face. Raquel's jaw drops and she looks as if she's going to hit Zatanna.

"Is that- Where the fuck did you get a Necronomicon?!"

"Doctor Fate had it lying around his library."

"Baby. This is all kinds of fucked up. Look, I know you're not going to want to hear this, but you're projecting. Wally isn't your dad. And any magic that comes out of this," She points with her toe to the book, "Nothing good can come from it. Now put this shit to bed and then get in it."

"The shit or the bed?" Zatanna cracks a smile and swipes at a few tears.

"Smart ass." Raquel pulls her closer.

"It's just," She breathes. "What if it were you? God, Baby, you were in the atmosphere protecting everyone from the War World and I couldn't help but think that you might never come back. And if I lost you, I'd do anything to get you back. Artemis deserves the same dedication."

Zatanna allows herself to be led back to bed in silence. Raquel seems to be digesting the words. They're under the covers and listening to the baby monitor before she speaks again.

"You've said it yourself, there's more to this universe than you 'n me can comprehend. Maybe you should stick to what you do and let the cosmic forces even out the averages?"

Zatanna nods because she knows Rocket can feel it against her shoulder. She feels her fiancee's breathing slowly even out into a snore. She's dozing off herself when she hears different snuffles coming from the baby monitor. Quietly, she rolls out of bed and pads down the hall to the nursery.

"Hey little man, what's wrong?"

Amistad cries like he has a broken heart. His cheeks scrunch up and goo pours from both his eyes and his nose.

Like any doting parent, Zatanna doesn't mind wiping her son's snot off with her own shirt as he clings to her shoulder.

"Hush, Amistad. Everything's going to be alright. Mama's here."

Conner & M'gann

Bad situation on Mars was putting it lightly.

"It" being a civil war. The nastiest kind. The kind that turns family against each other and leaves whole neighbourhoods destroyed.

To make things worse, scavengers have shown up. Martian brains go for a high price on black markets across most sectors. Conner gags at the memory. Whole families dead in their homes, only to have their bodies disrespected in death. The decaptitated corpses only seem to be multiplying. His anger is usually at a constant simmer. Lately a blinding rage has been building behind his eyes. All he wants to do is track the damn poachers and give them the same treatment.

Instead he digs mass graves.

He feels like Lady MacBeth, scrubbing at invisible blood coating his hands.

He isn't behind any of this bloodshed(despite his fantasies). He just has to clean up the mess left behind.

"I wish you could have seen Mars before. It was beautiful. Maybe I'm just remember all the wrong parts, though. Maybe it's always been this rotten." M'gann tells him as they overlook a ruined part of the city.

"Remember our first day of highschool?" He says, exhausted.

"About the conflict in Rhelasia? Yeah. I've been thinking about that a lot."

"We're all just people."

"Yeah." He embraces her.

Garfield takes to tending the wounded like a duck to water. It seems Marie Logan's gentle touch and love of preserving life has been passed on. He's as interested in Martian physiology as they are in his colour and tail. He does a good job of easing tensions in the desegregated hospital they've put up.

Older whites and greens sit as far from each other as possible, but the children are too young to be guided by hate and predjudiced. Mostly they enjoy playing games and watching TV together.

Which they do until their parents tug them away from their peers with hateful whispers.

The whole thing is just exhausting, and despite his claims of being 'enlightened' B'arzz proves to be more harm than help most of the time.

Conner feels the rage pouring off him and it sucks because he's surrounded by empaths who are becoming angrier by proxy. It's like that dumb space movie that Wally made him watch and- he should really call Wally up to chat more often.

Only Wally's dead. He's been so busy that he keeps forgetting that his friend got disintegrated before his eyes.

Anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

He blows a breath out through his teeth when he notices a little white watching him shyly. Conner leans forward on his knees and gives a little wave. The white creeps closer, as if afraid to step on landmines.

Something he can't really fault it for.

It's clutching a plush toy of the green thing from Star Wars and it must've been drawn by him quoting the series.

"Hey." He says with his outside voice.

The Martian chitters a little and offers him the plushie. Conner take it with a smile.

"Thanks, but I think you might need him more than me."

He pushes the toy back into pale fingers and bends to brush against the child's dome crest. The Martian reacts to the affectionate touch by leaning into him.

"I'm Conner, what's your name?"

"B'ron D'card." He says, testing his own voice.

"Let's go find your family B'ron."

B'ron shakes his head, "Don't have one."

Conner feels his heart sink. Martians have huge families. This kid has lost every parent, sibling and cousin. Casualties of war.

Unsure of what to do, he scoops B'ron up and takes the boy with him on his rounds.

"I see you've picked up a stray." M'gann says.

"Yeah. I guess it's become a habit." He jokes.

The peace between them feels relaxed, but delicate. Trust needs to be rebuilt and they're trying to keeps things simple.

Yes, they sleep together, but the bed they share is with Garfield. At the end of most days they're too tired for sex anyway.

Not that he doesn't think about it. Then he tries really hard not to think about it because he is surrounded by mind readers all day and he'd rather keep that sort of thing private. Which M'gann finds infinitely amusing.

Conner flushes a little. He's been weaving wild grasses into a bracelets for the children. Channeling his anger in productive, artistic ways.

"I've been looking into the boy's background." She says.

He keeps silent.

"I've always been looking at Earth's Immagration policy for Martians."

"I didn't..."

"You don't have to say it, Conner. It's safer for B'ron on Earth."

The hug he gives her would probably crush a lesser being. The kiss she gives him sucks the breath from his body.

The adoption papers go through within the next week. M'gann signs on the dotted line as B'ron's other legal guardian.

Funeral

There isn't even a body to bury.

It's a sunny Missouri day. Too sunny for black suits and dresses. Artemis watches beads of sweat roll down Dick's neck as he speaks informally at the head of Wally's pine box.

"Wally isn't here. Not in body anyway. Which is just as well. He-he never liked to be held still," Dick's voice cracks, "No, he always wanted to be free on the wind. Cremation or donated to science. That's what he said anyway."

He swallows dryly and gives a little laugh, "Wally likes to say that a body that good looking needs to be studied. Preferably by pretty med students."

Artemis chokes. She doesn't know if it's laughter or tears. A bit of both maybe?

"He doesn't-didn't believe in the afterlife, or anything that can't be proved with science. I have a quote by Carl Sagan that he liked. At least I think he did..." Dick unfolds some paper from his suit.

She watches tears splash the white paper and leave little faded spots for the light to seep through.

"The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff."

A baby wails and she looks up to see Raquel bouncing little Amistad. No one around seems to mind. Next to her stands Zatanna who holds onto the chair in front of her with white knuckles. Kaldur stands off to the side with tears pouring silently down his face.

Artemis feels a cool hand press against her shoulder. M'gann stands behind her with an offered shoulder to cry on. The rest of her is pressed against Garfield and Conner -who has their new son clinging to him like a koala.

She realises they're all looking to her to say something. Words that she practiced in the mirror melt away. Her mind goes fuzzy. She takes a deep breath and decides to wing it. She steps forward and drops her Artemis mask atop the empty casket.

"We were in Paris and he said we'd have to go back there. I never thought my life would become a Casablanca reference, but it is. So, here's looking at you, Kid."

Reviews are always read and appreciated. It anyone has any finale-related feels they'd like to share, my inbox is open.