A/N – Set sometime after Season 1, disregards Season 2 entirely. Established Spitfire.
She stared down, unseeing, at the place where his blood had been. It wasn't there anymore; four straight days of rain had seen to that. But it had been there…
*Flashback*
She stared down in shock. There was so much blood! Everything she knew about first aid flew from her head as she stood, frozen, unwilling – unable – to comprehend what was happening in front of her. He reached out a gloved hand for her, reaching, grasping, clutching at the air. He choked out her name once. "Artemis..."
*2 minutes before*
She stared down at the floor of the broken telephone booth. She knew she should get home before her mother started to worry. She'd had several late nights already this week and she wanted to spend a little time at home, out of costume, but she knew as soon as she walked through the front door of their apartment, her mother would start in on her about the pile of homework she'd been putting off.
She heaved a sigh and opened the door of the booth. It was her own fault for getting home late from Happy Harbor tonight. Wally had been at the mountain as well, and the two of them had spent a few wonderful hours just hanging out in the kitchen. She was sure Wally was intentionally trying to make her throw up from some of the combinations he put in his sandwiches. (Honestly, pickles, mayonnaise and ranch dressing?) If he wasn't so darn cute when he was excited about food she might not have stayed, but he was, so she did.
BANG!
Artemis's head jerked around at the noise. That was a gunshot! She quickly nocked an arrow on her bow and raced toward where the sound had come from. She turned right out of the alley and crossed the street, turning left into another dark alley. She slowed, keeping her bow up. Silently, she crept forward, straining her eyes for movement. There!
A figure appeared from the gloom, staggering toward her, its hands clasped to its abdomen. She narrowed her eyes; something about the figure seemed familiar… The figure (definitely male, wounded, not a threat?) kept getting closer to where she stood, and then finally sunk to its knees a few steps from her. He lifted his head, and Artemis's eyes widened in shock as she saw his face…
*5 days later*
She stared down at the casket. She still couldn't believe it. Not that Dick Grayson, the annoying kid from her high school, had been Robin – that had just been the startling cherry on the top of the whole shocking sundae these last few days had been. No, what she really had a hard time believing was that Robin was dead. He had always been so… alive. Always moving, always laughing. And now he wasn't. He was laying, still and silent, in a small box that was about to be buried in the ground. Forever.
Artemis turned away, wishing she could stop thinking about it. It was hardly the first time she'd seen someone die; this was Gotham, for Pete's sake. People died here every day. But this was Robin. The best of the Team, trained for anything by the best of the League, Batman. He shouldn't have died.
She jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat, hunching her shoulders, curling in on herself in an attempt to defend herself from the thoughts that just wouldn't stop. If I'd only left the mountain a few minutes earlier… If only I hadn't been hanging out with Wally… If only, if only…
She kept walking down the aisle of the church and out of the door. The service was about to start, and she couldn't face it. The entire League was going to be there, out of costume, as well as the hundreds of people Bruce Wayne had had to invite simply because of his – and by extension, Dick's – high societal visibility.
She couldn't face the forced grief of the people who never even took the chance to know Rob- Dick. Bruce's business associates, fellow socialites and… other acquaintances. She couldn't face the true grief of the League members who had known Rob- Di- Robin for years. She definitely couldn't face Wally. Because the two of them had been so focused on each other, neither of them had noticed Robin leaving the mountain so late at night. If they had-
Artemis shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the thought that just wouldn't leave. Everyone told her it wasn't her fault, there was nothing she could have done. But she knew differently. She could have been there. No two-bit mugger with a gun would have thought to take on two teenaged superheroes, especially not with the range her bow had.
Artemis suddenly realized where she was. This was where it happened. This is where Robin died…
She stared down at the place where his blood had been. The blood he had shed for Gotham. Something hardened inside of her. Robin had given his life for Gotham. Robin had given everything. How could she give any less? She knew, then and there, she would take up Robin's mission. Under her watch, civilians would be safe and criminals would be brought to justice. Never again would another child be killed, another good person shot, another crime fighter be taken down, another beacon of light snuffed out. Gotham criminals, beware.
She looked up.