Author's Note: There are no OC's in this story, only DC characters. The mystery girl in this chapter has never appeared in the Young Justice cartoon, so the first person who figures out her identity gets to choose another character or group of characters to appear in the story. It can be anyone, hero or villain, so you can choose any of your favorite characters. PM or review. The entire Team will appear later, so don't worry.
Pairings:
Established- Conner/M'Gann
Developing- Wally/Artemis, Robin/Zatanna, Kaldur/Rocket?
Chapter One: Firsts
Eight Years Ago:
Artemis sat cross-legged next to her sister, who was four years older and nearly a foot taller than her. Today, they were sparring. Their father had placed an assortment of weapons in front of the two girls, ranging from swords to poison-laced darts. Her sister was to choose first, and she lingered between the poison darts and the sai, before finally deciding on sai. She twirled them around her fingers gingerly, and Artemis gazed at her sister reverently. Now it was her turn to choose a weapon.
No one said a word, but Artemis felt two pairs of eyes boring into her. She wanted desperately to choose the right weapon and to impress her family. She looked at the sai, but if she couldn't copy her sister, so instead, she grabbed the bow and quiver that sat on the ground near the darts. While their dad had his sports themed weapons, their mom's primary weapon was the bow and arrow. She was a magnificent huntress, and Artemis knew that she could be the same.
As she held the bow and quiver, Artemis realized she had made a mistake. Her sister was stifling a laugh, and her dad was just shaking his head. "Art, you can't use a bow and arrow in here." Her dad gestured around the dojo. "You're practicing close range combat. Archery is only good for long range."
Artemis nodded, even though she was sure she could make it work for short range too. Her dad took the bow away and placed a small dagger in her hands. It was almost like a hunting knife, with a sharp point and a jagged, serrated side. The handle was large and chunky, and the blade felt odd in her small hands. She shook her head and said, "No, I want the bow and arrows."
Sighing, her dad wrapped his sturdy, beefy hands around hers. He roughly guided her dagger wielding hand forward into a jab and a swift side slice. "See, Artemis, it's perfect for close combat."
Her sister nodded. "I would kill you in one move if tried to use a bow against my sai."
Artemis conceded, and the two sisters readied themselves for battle. The older girl had all of the advantages: size, speed, strength, experience. No matter what weapon she chose, Artemis knew she would lose.
"Go!" Their father shouted, and the girls sprinted towards each other, weapons drawn.
Present Day:
Artemis walked briskly towards the entrance of her worn-down apartment building. Everyday, the school bus would let her off directly in front of the building because it was in such a bad neighborhood, but five seconds was enough time for the neighbors to see her walk by in her fancy private school uniform. She wasn't the most liked person in the neighborhood, but she didn't need many friends; she had the Team and a couple girls at school.
Gotham Academy had much better academics than her old school, but the school day was an hour longer, which meant five hours of extra schoolwork a week, twenty two in an average month. It was a Friday, so she was finally done with school for the week. She just needed to get herself ready for the weekend at the cave and leave. As she walked up the steps to her apartment building, she heard a soft rustling from nearby and whipped her head around. She readied her body in a defensive position. Pinpointing the source of the noise as the ragged lump by the steps, she let her guard down. A homeless person wasn't cause for worry.
The teen archer was about to enter the building, when a small head poked out from the pile of blankets, and Artemis felt her heart sink. It was a young girl, probably a runaway, strands of matted black hair obscuring her soft Eurasian features. Artemis was reminded of her sister: the sister who had abandoned her six years earlier. She shook away those thoughts and approached the girl.
"What's your name? Are you hungry?" Artemis internally laughed at herself; of course the girl was hungry. Artemis couldn't abandon the girl like Artemis's sister had abandoned her. "Here, I'll take you inside." She reached out a hand, and the girl surveyed it for a moment before clasping her own calloused hands around it. The young girl was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and tattered jeans. Artemis felt bad wearing her neatly pressed school uniform. As Artemis pulled the girl to her feet and into the apartment building, she noticed that the young girl's grip was surprisingly strong.
Artemis frowned pensively as she unlocked the door to her apartment. What could she say to her mom? Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. As expected, her mom was waiting on the other side to greet Artemis after the long week of school. Artemis hid the girl behind her, but the elder Crock had already noticed that they had a visitor.
"This is my friend from school. She fell in some mud on the way home from school, so she needs to shower. I'll introduce you later," Artemis explained to her mother.
She rushed the girl out of the hallway and into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and some of her old clothes from the closet.
Two hours later, the girl came out of the bathroom looking clean, and Artemis smiled at the little girl in the white tee-shirt and overalls. She was petite and very skinny, with shoulder length black hair and piercing brown eyes. She was probably about 9 or 10 but looked much younger and was definitely at least half Asian. Artemis wondered if the little girl had parents out there somewhere worrying about her.
"Do you have a family?" She asked. "Why did you run away?" She gave the girl her most encouraging smile and waited for an answer.
The girl stared back at Artemis for a moment. And that moment turned into a minute, and one minute turned into ten. Artemis tried to be patient; she knew the questions would bring up unpleasant memories for the girl.
"Artemis, come here this instant," Paula Crock called to her daughter, "By yourself!"
With one last look at the little girl, Artemis hurried down the hall to the kitchen, where her mother sat in her wheelchair. Her eyes were downcast, and she had a disapproving expression on her face. "I know that girl is not your friend from school, Artemis. You know we don't let strangers into our home. Tell me, who is she?"
"I-I don't know," Artemis admitted.
Paula's face paled, her suspicions confirmed. As anger clouded her mother's face, Artemis shook her head. What was wrong with letting a young homeless girl into your home? They weren't well off, but the least they could do was help some girl who had nothing.
"I found her on the streets. She just looked so tired, hungry; I couldn't just leave her there. She's probably a runa—"
Soft footsteps approached from down the hall, and the young girl blinked at them from the doorway. Artemis hadn't expressly told the girl not to follow, but she had thought that her mother specifically asking for just her would be enough to tell the girl to stay put. "Can you go back to my room?" Artemis asked irritably. "I'm having a private conversation with my mom."
The girl stayed where she was and continued to blink back at Artemis. She didn't say a word, and in fact, she hadn't said a word since Artemis had met her. Artemis was beginning to feel a bit frightened of the girl, but that she reminded herself that she was talking about a little girl, a shy little girl who was probably twice as terrified as she was. Then, Artemis had a thought. "Do you even understand English?"
In response, the girl blinked and tilted her head. Artemis was beginning to think she had finally figured it out, but then the young girl shrugged, and Artemis went back to her old theory that the girl was just shy and scared.
Meanwhile, Paula Crock was studying the small, black-haired girl suspiciously. There was something oddly familiar about the girl: her coloring, the eyes, the way she just stood there and silently stared. Suddenly, something clicked in the back of Paula's mind, and her eyes widened. Speechless, she tried not to think about what the arrival of the girl could mean. After what seemed like an eternity, Paula regained the ability to speak, and she turned to her teenaged daughter. "How could you let her into our house?"
