Zatanna

A little girl sat alone, playing with her dolls.
She was seven—nearly eight—and had shiny black hair that fell like a sheet across her shoulders.
"Zatanna," she heard her father call, "come here for a minute."

She looked over her shoulder and saw her father standing next to two other adults and a young boy.  It wasn't unusual. Her father—who was known as the world-famous magician "John Zatara"—often brought a friend or two backstage.
Zatanna got up and walked over, a doll still in her hand.
Her father gestured toward the two adults, then the boy.  "Zatanna, this is Mr. and Mrs. Wayne, and their son, Bruce."
Zatanna looked at Bruce. He was about her age, and looked a little shy.  He had a doll in his hand, too. 
Zatanna decided that she liked him.
"Come on!" she said with a bright smile, taking his hand and pulling him across the room.  He awkwardly stumbled after her.

She sat him down next to her pile of dolls before sitting down herself.
"I've never seen a boy who played with dolls before."
Bruce frowned. "It's not a doll! It's an action figure!"
Zatanna rolled her eyes. "Whatever.  What's his name?"
Bruce couldn't help but show his excitement as he responded. "The Gray Ghost! He's the best crime-fighter ever!"
Zatanna looked at the figure.  It looked like a man wearing a long gray trenchcoat, with a gray hat and gray goggles.  She scrunched her nose at it.  "How does he fight crime? Is he really a ghost?"
Bruce took pride in his explanation.  "He's not a ghost. People just think he is because he hides in the shadows and only fights crime at night. He has all kinds of weapons and gadgets and a car and—"
Zatanna interrupted.  "But he's not a real ghost?"
"Uh... no.  Ghosts aren't real."
"How do you know?"
"Well, have you ever seen one?"
"No, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.  Have you ever seen a million dollars?"
"Yes."

A few months went by, and Zatanna and Bruce became good friends.  They were about as close and as happy as children of their age could be.  They cared not for the serious subjects that their parents discussed in the living room: those matters of government, corruption, and crime.

Then, suddenly, less than a year after Zatanna and Bruce had met, the Waynes and Zataras stopped seeing one another.  Zatanna would ask her father, "Daddy, can we invite the Waynes over?" but he responded "No, Zatanna," his throat tight and his eyes watered.  Eventually, Zatanna realized something was wrong.  "Why can't we see the Waynes, Daddy?" she asked.  "Because, Zanna," her father replied, "...just because."

The Zataras left Gotham on another country tour, and Zatanna eventually stopped asking about Bruce and his parents.  Four years later, during an East Coast tour, they ended up back in Gotham for a few days.
Zatanna and her father were cleaning up backstage after a show.  They were nearly done, and sent the rest of the crew home.  It was silent and peaceful, with no one but father and daughter still in the building.  Zatanna loved these moments: getting away from all the bright lights and the crowds, and getting to spend time alone with her father.
*THUNK THUNK*
A heavy knock came at the back door.  Zatanna looked at her father, but he simply shrugged.  He didn't have any idea who it could be.  Zatanna walked toward the door to open it, but her father jumped up and ran to catch her.
"No, Zatanna!" he said urgently.
She looked at him curiously.  He wasn't simply being protective; there was something else he was afraid of.
"Not in this town..." he said quietly.  He walked to the door and cautiously opened it.
On the other side was a boy not much older than Zatanna.  He was soaked from the heavy rain outside, and had a dejected look about him.
Zatanna peeked around her father's side and saw him.  She recognized him instantly.
"...Bruce?"
He looked back at her, but didn't say a word.

Surprised, John welcomed him inside.  Still, however, he was puzzled as to what the boy was doing here.  "Bruce... it's good to see you. But what are you doing out here at this time of night?"
"I had to see you before you left town again," he said determinedly.  "I need your help."
John was puzzled as to what a billionaire-heir boy could need from a stage magician. "Of course; we'll help you in whatever way we can."
"You're an escape artist, right?  The best in the world?"
John was still a little confused.  "Well, as far as I know the best that's still living, but—"
"Teach me."

John paused for a moment.  "...My boy, I don't understand.  Why would you want to become an escape artist?"
"It doesn't matter. Will you train me? I can pay you..."
John shook his head.  "No need to pay us, Bruce.  The only thing we'll need is your time. We're still on tour, and we can't stop now.  Would you be willing to come along with us?"
"Yes."
"...Well, alright then.  We leave tomorrow night; can you be ready by then?"
"I'll be there; thank you."
"Of course, Bruce.  Of course."

Bruce left, leaving Zatanna and John alone again.  It hadn't escaped John's notice that  Zatanna hadn't said a single word.  Looking at her now, he saw her face blushing, red as a fire hydrant.  He smiled jokingly at her.  "He certainly has grown into a handsome young man, hasn't he?"
"...Uh-huh..." she said nervously.

Bruce left Gotham with the Zataras, working behind the stage during shows and training whenever they had free time.  John taught him how to escape from all the generic restraints: rope, chains, handcuffs, and straightjackets—all while either underwater, upside-down, or both.  It would have seemed like torture to most outsiders, but Bruce had a tremendous ability to withstand pain.  Poor boy, John often thought.  He's already gone through so much pain, he probably can't feel much else anymore.
Although Bruce wasn't very interested in learning magic tricks, he did let John teach him a little of the philosophy behind it.  "You see," John said, "it's all about theatricality.  You have to trick the audience into thinking you're doing one thing while you're actually doing something else.  Divert their attention; make them focus on the show rather than the reality of it.  Stay one step ahead of them, and don't let them catch up until the show's over."


After only three months traveling with the Zataras, Bruce was ready for his final test: escaping from full-body chains while straightjacketed and hanging upside-down.  Zatanna watched him from the back of the room, smiling and twirling her hair.  The test would be difficult, but she was sure he could do it.   It only took him eight seconds.  He worked his way through the jacket and restraints, then let them fall to the floor while he held himself upside-down on the single chain that hung from the ceiling.  He swung downwards and let go, somersaulting backwards once through the air before landing solidly on his feet.
John laughed and clapped with approval.  "Bravo, my boy, bravo.  Now you've learned all I can teach you.  You only need practice and experience now."
"Thank you, sir," Bruce replied with a grin.  It was rare to see Bruce with much of a smile, but he did occasionally give out a prideful smirk.
"I imagine that you'll be leaving us now?" John asked.
"...yes, sir," Bruce answered.
"...You know, Bruce, you're always welcome.  You don't have to go.""Yes I do," he said determinedly.
John sighed to himself. "This doesn't have anything to do with your parents, does it?"
"It has everything to do with my parents," Bruce said grimly.
"Bruce, whatever it is you're planning; whatever it is that's driving you like this... it's not good.  If it's revenge or vengeance you're looking for, stop now.  Before it destroys you."
Bruce calmly turned to John.  "I appreciate your concern, sir.  But don't worry about me; I'll be okay."
John let himself smile. "Alright, my boy.  Good luck on your travels, wherever they may lead you."
"Thank you, sir," Bruce replied. "It's been an honor to learn from you."
John nodded. "And it's been an honor to teach you."
With that, John left the room.

Zatanna sat on the floor behind a box, trying to hide her sadness.  She knew Bruce would be leaving, but she didn't know it would be so soon.
Bruce leaned over the side of the box.  "What are you doing back here?"
Zatanna almost gasped with surprise, but quickly regained herself.  Standing up, she changed the subject. "You're leaving now?"
"We'll see each other again someday, Zanna," Bruce said reassuringly.
"You know, you're the only one who calls me Zanna," Zatanna said with a slight edge.  "I really hate it."  She actually kind of loved it, but she wasn't going to tell him that.
"Well... I'm leaving tonight.  I probably won't see you again for a while."
Zatanna sighed and turned her back to him. "So go. Be that escape artist you always wanted to be so badly."
She turned around after only a few seconds to see the room completely empty.  He really was gone.