It's after midnight, and Artemis is sitting up in bed, books spread all around her, as Wally snores under the comforter. She rubs her eyes again, her right eye beginning to burn. She's been up for hours trying to finish this research paper that she just couldn't make heads or tales of. Wally had offered to stay up with her, help her as much as he could, mainly by making coffee. But she had let him off the hook with a kiss to his forehead and a swear that he would make her coffee when he woke up in the morning. She'd be running on fumes tomorrow, but she had to make to through. She wasn't about to ditch class because she had waited too long to start her assignment. Even if it wasn't due to procrastination but certain... extra curricular activities.
Nights like this she wished her after school activities were just something like a sorority. At least then she might have some help from somewhere. Wally, bless his heart, wouldn't have been any help. A genius in the sciences and math sure, but history was not his strong suit.
But instead she was traveling to New Orleans for two days for reconnaissance missions and data gathering. Supposedly simple tasks. That always ended up not being simple and this time landed her in the med bay for a day and a half with a mild concussion after being thrown into a cement wall. Wally hadn't left her side and even tried to help her study. She would just end up with massive migraines, but he would try and she couldn't fault him for that. He had been terrified to leave her side, even when she threatened to use him for target practice if he wouldn't just talk a walk around the cave or something he just smiled and promised to be quiet. He wasn't quiet.
When she had finally received a clean bill of health and they were able to return to their Palo Alto apartment it had been a blessing. Until she remembered her research paper that still had to be written. The further along in her classes she got, the harder it was to live the double life of a super hero. It had yet to become impossible though, and that was all she cared about.
As she reached for a paper about a battle in Bengal, she hears Wally's snoring give way to a shallow, hectic breathing. She turns to face him with a crinkled brow. Forgoing her paper, her hand instead makes its way to his shoulder. Just before she is able to rest it there, he gasps and his eyes spring open. They're frantic and hurried and his breathing has yet to slow. She says his name, quietly, but also with a touch of hesitation. His eyes find hers and they finally still. He sits up with a vicious jerk and pulls her to his chest, crumpling her papers and nearly knocking her computer over the side of their bed. He's breathing into her hair deeply and running his hands down her back and sides, convinced she's not really there. Convinced she'll vanish in front of his eyes in the second he's not holding onto her. He's gripping her fiercely and she finally has to push his away so she can breathe and let him calm down.
When he does, he tells her about his dream. A familiar one to the both of them. To him ever since he began having it four years ago. To her ever since the first night they shared a bed, three and a half years ago. It wasn't every night; it wasn't even a common occurrence by any definition. But they both knew it well. It always managed to shake him to the core.
The first night he told her about it he confessed how it had taken months to convince himself she didn't need him to hover around her. That she could protect herself and if something happened, well it was a risk they were willing to take every time they put on the suit. But he never stopped taking checks of her throughout the battle, seeing where she was, doing quick math in his head to find out if he could reach her in time.
No matter how many times she would tell him he was being an idiot, he would just tell her she hadn't stood by while someone she cared about was disintegrated in front of her. They no longer argued about it, and they no longer needed to rehash the feelings of regret and desperation he felt every time he had that nightmare. Because she was always right there, every time he woke up short of breath and terrified to face the world without her. And she always would be.