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Dick likes to stargaze. On particularly clear nights, amongst the twinkling of softly lit stars, he can almost see her.
Tonight the sky is captivating – the moon is almost full, partially hidden in the shadows, surrounded by shimmering stars. He can see most of the constellations, knows them by heart – the Vega system is one of the brightest ones in the sky. Whenever he focuses on it, he can almost feel the silk of long, flame red hair and smooth gold skin, the sharp scent of spices. It fills him with both heartfelt nostalgia and a sense of desolation.
Most nights are like this, have been like this for years; rarely does one pass without Dick finding a rooftop or a backyard or balcony to sit, to stare and contemplate and allow his mind to wander, even if just briefly. It allows him to relax, to be by himself and his thoughts for a while, although it reminds him of nights that used to be shared, saturated with light laughter and soft kisses and “I love you”s.
In all truth, he misses Kory – deeply. She’s been gone for years, and thinking about her or hearing her name no longer feels like lead and arsenic pumping though his blood, doesn’t turn his bones into unbearable weight – he doesn’t allow it to make things seem jagged anymore, overly sharp and hollow. He had been reminded many times that she wouldn’t have wanted that – would have wanted memories of her to leave him with contentment and love. Dick tries, but he can’t help the quick, painful clench of his heart every time he realizes that she is no longer here, nor is she ever coming back. That this isn’t a long mission with the Titans, or a trip back to Tamaran – that this is forever. That they aren’t separated by just distance or time, that they are no longer on the same plane of existence.
“Love you, Kory,” he murmurs. The stars continue to hum, scintillating, almost winking at him in response. “Still miss you.”
“Dad?” A high voice rings out, accompanied by the sound of footsteps and the soft crunch of wet grass. “What are you doing out here?”
Mar’i lays down next to him, although she crinkles her nose lightly at the moisture of the grass and soil, undoubtedly leaving stains on her shirt. Dick turns his head at her, smiles gently.
“Just looking at the stars,” he replies honestly. “Thinking about your mom.”
Mar’i sighs. “Yeah, I was too. Will you tell me a little more about you both, before everything?”
Everything is broad. Everything could mean before Dick and Kory’s marriage, before Mar’i was even conceived or considered. Everything could mean before they were a couple, when they were two teenagers and he was enamored by her freedom and her happiness. Everything could mean Kory’s death. Everything could mean absolutely anything. Dick plays it safe.
“Let me tell you more about Tamaran, instead,” he suggests. “Since you haven’t visited in a while. See that bright star up there?” he asks, pointing.
“Yeah, I see it,” Mar’i replies evenly.
“Well, the Vega system’s a lot bigger than Tamaran, I guess. The Vega system is where X’Hal, the first Tamaranean, is supposed to be. When Tamaraneans pass, their spirits are said to join her.”
Mar’i has taken a quieter tone, and she asks softly, “Is that where mama is? With X’Hal? Among the stars?”
Dick’s smile is small. “That’s exactly where she is, little Nightstar,” he responds fondly.
“I miss mama,” Mar’i admits, nervously.
“Me too,” and it’s true, he still wakes up and clenches his jaw at the space beside him in the bed, still thinks about her too often. But Dick – he’ll stay spirited, because that’s what Kory would have wanted, for him to cherish the time they’d had and to remain strong for Mar’i. “But look at the stars – she’s still Starfire, after everything. Still bright and fighting.”
“Still bright and fighting,” Mar’i repeats. “For us?”
“For us,” and father and daughter lay on damp grass and ground, looking up at galaxies and constellations, thinking of the woman who had become part of their sky.