Disclaimer: I don't like superheroes as a general concept, so there's no way I could have come up with Young Justice. Also, with the exception of YJ, I'm at least more familiar with Marvel than I am with DC, so...

This world is run on one basic principle and that's the survival of the fittest. I know it when I see it. I also happen to know opportunity when I see it. It's part of the survival thing.

The clicking of that door closing behind me echoes in my mind every day, ricocheting from the recesses of the past. I hear its haunting whisper in my dreams. I hear it sound through the menial tasks of life. I hear it over the roar of adrenaline that accompanies every mission. No one told me survival came with that. And everything I know about survival, I learned from… well, I think I've exceeded that standard I once called "the best".

But opportunity had knocked on that very door. The world outside beckoned me with open arms and bade me live a life without the bonds I'd always known. The stars pointed to freedom, the lights in the streets to a fresh start. The night invited me to leave my dark prison and disappear into the shadows. No more oppression, no more tireless driving, no more unnatural conflicts, no ties to anyone. And yet, I'd closed the door and let opportunity pass me by.

And then it happened. The last straw had been drawn, the final line crossed. I struggled to resurface, but the waves would only billow over me and shove me under again. That door was my lifeline. It was the only way I could climb out. Opportunity knocked again and I took it by the hand.

They say the chain is only as strong as its weakest link, but though all these links were severed, there was one link that had always held me fast. One little voice that would not release me. The one light in that dark hovel, my one anchor in life. My only reason to stay.

But my needs surpassed my bonds. I needed out. I needed to pass into those shadows and begin to breathe on my own, away from the confines set by the fittest. I needed to chart my own path and become one of the fittest.

I would have taken my light with me, but the light would have driven away the shadows I relied on. The light would have exposed me, been dependent on me, slowed me down. I considered it – truly, I did. I weighed it in the balance and thought up ways it might work, but survival requires practicality and discernment.

Survival demanded I leave my light behind and break that final tie. It's every girl for herself.

And it's a good thing I did, for the light would never have survived out there. The night would have extinguished it or it would have hindered my climb to where I am today.

The closing of the door released me from all I'd known and yet never let me forget what I'd left behind. Its ominous click recites it all to me daily, void of relenting or regret. And worse, every click tortures me with the reminder of the light, the voice I can no longer reach. Every night, the first star I see reminds me of what still lies on the other side of that door. Star light, star bright…. But I am too old for such things; I should not remember, but I do and each memory hurts more than the last.

I have never really broken that last link, flecked with rust and wear though it be. It simply hasn't released me from its grip. Any time I'm in the vicinity of that dividing door, I watch from an opposite rooftop. Sometimes at night, I even venture to try the window. But never the door. The door is forever closed.

I don't know why I do it, but something always compels me to go. I cannot resist the call. I've tried. It never works. I've given up trying to understand whatever it is that urges me. So I obey and stand watch. An unseen sentinel, a watcher from afar, a guardian in the night.

And so I watch my light. Watch the little spark grow into a flame and flourish. Even when the division tears at me and threatens to grip me with the weaknesses I've not yet overcome, these are the times I am happiest and I fairly dread the times I must return to my shadows. But I wouldn't give up these distant moments for anything. They are far too precious.

My light never knows. And she probably never will.

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