A/N: This is probably the closest thing to Traught I will ever write. Was eventually supposed to be Artemis/Team with a bit of Spitfire.
Disclaimer: CN owns the rights.
All those years away in prison must have taken a toll on Paula's maternal instincts. That, or Artemis had miraculously gotten better at lying. In the archer's defense, she had a serious pre-calculus test of doom that would not wait even for a superheroine with a case of walking pneumonia.
She didn't know quite how she slogged her way through Gotham's March sleet all the way to the bus stop. Her focus was a bit foggy, taking only snippets of her surroundings: a woman gossiping too loudly on the phone, a giggling baby in the corner, the blur of the street outside in the torrential downpour. And she honestly couldn't tell you through the sludge of exhaustion and infection hampering her mental capabilities how on earth she ended up outside the telephone booth zeta tube.
Artemis vaguely recalled a worried voice sounding like Robin's, asking her, "Isn't it the wrong time of day to be visiting cousins? Really, Artemis?"
"She's…mnnn favorite," Artemis slurred out before collapsing against the structure, never realizing that she was still wearing her Academy uniform.