I don't own Young Justice. Dedicated to buck, who was much more patient than I deserved.

Playing it Cool

"Evening, ladies."

"Evening, Alfred."

"Are you quite ready?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Not a question."

"Well then. Shall we?"

"I suppose so."

Artemis grinned, watching the ground drop out from beneath them as the jet – Bruce Wayne's private, unmarked jet, she repeated incredulously in her head – soared off the end of the runway and up into the sky. Though it had been a few years since Dick had dropped that particular identity bomb on them, she still occasionally ran headfirst into the fact that the man who'd funded her private school was also the man who'd funded, trained and deployed her crime-fighting team all these years.

Not that it was exactly her team, anymore, to be fair. Like most of the old gang, she'd graduated to the League to make room for the new blood about a year ago. It had been a bittersweet choice, but the right one. She still got to kick butt, and she still got to do it with her friends, but the missions were more fun: less slinking through the shadows, more guts and glory. Really, the only downside was that now she had to complete her own post-mission paperwork (God bless Dick and Kaldur for doing it all those years).

"I would have expected a fancy toy like this to fly itself," Artemis remarked as she stood in the back of the cockpit, watching Alfred toggle a few switches. "Bruce doesn't seem the type to skimp on the high-tech gimmicks."

"Oh, it has an autopilot, Miss, to be sure," Alfred assured her. "I just prefer to do things the old-fashioned way."

Artemis bit back a smile.

"I never would have guessed."

Leaving the butler to his devices, she slipped back, out of the cockpit and across the buffer room, into the decadent main cabin. While she hadn't become a crimefighter to make rich friends, she certainly wasn't about to complain about the perks of borrowing their planes – the leather seating, the plush crimson carpet, the full bar, the hot tub in the back. Her favorite thing in the jet, though, was currently perched on the arm of the brown leather loveseat, tinkering with the flat, electronic file that contained their assignment.

"Were you going to open that without me?" Artemis asked accusingly.

Zatanna looked up, startled, guilt briefly flickering in her eyes before her expression melted into one of snow-white innocence.

"I would never," she said, lips curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Good," said Artemis, flopping down on the loveseat and patting the seat beside her. "Because if you jumped the gun on the mission briefing for our first solo mission together, we would have to have words."

"You can't have a two-person solo mission," Zatanna objected. With a soft laugh, she slipped down onto the couch beside Artemis and wriggled into a more comfortable position. "That makes no sense."

"Fine, duet mission, maestro," Artemis conceded, rolling her eyes.

Zatanna smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

"Much better."

Without further ado, Zee leaned over to set the mission file on the table, then pressed down on the red button with two fingers. It flared to life silently, a white line traversing back and forth across the sorceress's fingertips before emitting a small beep to confirm her prints. As she withdrew her hand and leaned back, a hologram flared to life in three partitioned columns – a series of photographs and blueprints on the left, a blank bulleted list in the middle, and Batman's face on the right.

"Good evening, Artemis, Zatanna," said the image of Batman, the greeting sounding about as friendly as a parole officer. "Or should I say, добрый вечер. In less than six hours you will be landing in Irkutsk, Russia..."

And the brief continued, spelling out each step of the plan: a lavish party at a private estate, a mogul with deep-running ties to a human trafficking ring, a gang of dangerous thugs posing as the security team. Their assignment: to extract said mogul and turn him over to Interpol before the thugs got to him first (dead men couldn't give up their accomplices). As Batman listed each objective, the bulleted list in the center of the hologram filled in, item by item, until their task was laid out for them in full.

"So," said Artemis, turning to Zatanna as the hologram vanished back down into its base. "Something tells me I won't be playing the mysterious stranger on this one."

"I don't know," said Zatanna with a teasing smile. "How do you feel about going sleeveless in sub-zero temperatures?"

"Not warmly."

"Hilarious."

Artemis just grinned and picked up the mission file to draw up the case details, the blueprints and mug shots and security footage, her eyes flicking back and forth across each image. After a moment, Zatanna stood, stretching slightly, before she stepped around the back of the sofa and laid a hand on Artemis's shoulder.

"You should get some sleep," she said, glancing down over the other woman's head at the open file. "We have about five and a half hours to touchdown."

"Yeah, yeah," said Artemis, not looking up. "Just gonna memorize the layout of this place, get to know a few familiar faces, then I'll be there. I swear."

"Okay. I'll meet you in a bit," said Zee, nodding. "I need to prep a few spells."

Artemis felt the hand leave her shoulder, heard the padding of footsteps as Zatanna headed for the back of the plane. Once again, she was struck by the significance of the job. Not only was it their first League mission without a more senior supervisor, but also Batman hand-picked them for it, and entrusted them with his private jet and his private butler to boot (rumor had it Alfred was not engaged lightly). True, it wasn't a terrifically high-profile or high-risk case, and most of the action would be of the good old-fashioned lying and waiting variety, but still. It was exciting.

Plus, she got to work it with Zatanna. Alone with Zatanna. That was the best part of all.

For the better part of an hour, Artemis acquainted herself with the case details, committing every detail to memory systematically, the way Dick had taught her years ago. Compared to the entire Gotham grid, the Muravyov estate was nothing, but she wanted this mission to go perfectly.

Finally, when she was sure that she could recall at a moment's notice each entrance and exit, each security camera and guard station, she put away the brief and made for the back of the plane.

"We're going to catch a few Zs, Alfred," she told the comm panel, holding down the transmit button to ensure he'd hear her. "Can you send us a wake-up buzz when we're at initial descent?"

"Very good, m'am," came his response through the speaker. "Have a pleasant rest."

Pushing aside the curtain that separated the main cabin from the back room, Artemis was unsurprised to see that Zatanna had beaten her to bed – the sorceress was lying on her side, back to the door, the maroon covers pulled up over her shoulders. At the sound of the curtain she rolled onto her back, giving Artemis a sleepy look that registered somewhere between disgruntled and amused.

"Catching some Zees?" she mumbled, raising one sleepy eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh hush," said Artemis, dropping her pants. "You know you love it."

Irkutsk was cold.

Yeah, so that had been in the mission brief Artemis memorized, but still, there was nothing like a little bit of eight degrees Fahrenheit to get your heart pumping in the afternoon.

"This is the high?" Artemis asked, teeth chattering as she stood at the top of the ramp.

"Seems it," said Zatanna, looking unfazed beside her.

"Jesus."

"You've done missions in the Arctic Circle. What on earth are you whining about?"

"The cold."

"Ugh," said Zee, rolling her eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Conner."

"No, I understood that the question was rhetorical," said Artemis. "I'm just being a little shit."

"Okay, well in that case you've been spending too much time with Dick and Wally."

"Guilty as charged."

The two were silent a minute, gazing out over the landscape. They had landed on a paved plateau some miles away and above their target site, on a landing strip that used to serve spy planes and battle drones. The view was quite pretty, really, a dazzling blanket of white snow over the spires and turrets of an old, sprawling estate; then in the distance, the city of Irkutsk, its lights twinkling faintly. It was already quite dark. February and Siberia did not a bright combination make.

"Well, party starts in an hour and a half," said Artemis, sighing. "Guess we'd better go get ready for our entrance."

"You mean my entrance."

"Okay, yes, fine, your entrance," said Artemis. "You have your name and story memorized?"

"Arty..."

"Okay sorry," said Artemis, rubbing her arms. "I trust you. You know that. I'm just a little worked up. First duet mission and all."

Zatanna smiled, slipping an arm around the other woman's waist and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"We're going to do fine," she said seriously.

And somehow, Artemis had no choice but to believe her.

"I'm in position," Artemis reported into her comm, staring out over the courtyard from her spot on the northeast roof. She could see Zatanna, but only just barely; the sorceress was a red and black prick against the white expanse of the east drive. "How's it look so far?"

"You can probably see better than me," Zatanna's voice replied. "Seems quiet from where I am. I'm going to head inside. Keep me updated on anyone who comes in after me in the next ten."

"You got it."

Wriggling up further on the roof, Artemis pulled her binoculars from her belt and lifted them up so she could scan the terrain. Zee was right – it was quiet. Beside her and the guards, there were only a few guests pulling up at the moment, well-dressed couples emerging from big boxy cars and passing on their keys to the valets who stood in the freezing drive to wait. It would make it harder to make a subtle entrance, but Artemis knew better than to worry. Zee would work her magic (so to speak).

"Good evening, madam," Artemis heard the door guard say through the spy mic. Her Russian was good enough to comprehend his greeting, and Zatanna's sorcery was good enough that when she returned the greeting, he seemed not at all fazed, though what Artemis had heard was plain English. "May I see your invitation?"

Fluidly, Zatanna produced one from the sleeve of her shawl.

"Eveileb siht repap na noitativni," she murmured.

Artemis could just picture the coy smile that must have accompanied the spell. The guard waved her through without a second thought, and Zatanna glided through the open doors into the main house, from whose windows warm light was pouring out onto the dark snow.

"I'm in."

"I know," said Artemis, adjusting her binoculars. "I'm watching you."

"How comforting."

Shifting her weight a little to get more comfortable, Artemis blew a rogue wisp of hair from her face and moved to scan the entry drive again. It had begun to snow lightly, but in general, there was still not much action – a few more party guests, including a family with a young son, but none of the people on their watch list.

"No Dubov yet," Artemis reported. "Unless he somehow came in a different way."

"He did," said Zee, voice low. "I'm across the room from him. He's with his bodyguards."

"Oh, really?" said Artemis, a little surprised. "I thought our intel was that he was slated to show up fashionably late."

"Mm. Oh, yes please," said Zatanna.

"What?" said Artemis, confused. Why had she said that in Russian? "Yes please wh – ? Oh."

A gentle crunching sound drifted over the comm – Zee was eating something, and had presumably been talking to a waiter. Momentarily, Artemis felt a pang of envy. Why was she flat-bellied in two feet of snow on a freezing rooftop while Zatanna got to go to a swanky party with nice champagne and fancy food?

Flats, her brain supplied helpfully. Because you like wearing flats.

"I'm going to make the rounds and see if he'll approach me," Zatanna's voice said, once the chewing had ceased. "Otherwise I'll go to plan B."

"Roger that."

Switching her binoculars to infrared, Artemis did a general sweep of the area, noting the various locations of the guards. One of them had moved – half of the pair that had been on the west veranda was missing.

"We got one goonie inside," she said to Zee, checking again to be doubly sure. "Not one of the higher ups. Probably just scoping something out or wussing out of the snow, but just so you know."

"Mm."

"Extra thugs on the north patio," Artemis continued. "No guests out there so I'm guessing they're waiting on a rendezvous with one of their higher-ups."

"Mm."

"My favorite thing about missions with you is getting to have these deep, meaningful conversations."

Artemis couldn't see Zatanna's face, but she didn't need to to know what it looked like. No one pulled off that mix of exasperation and amusement so well, not even Kaldur.

"Eciton em."

"I always do," said Artemis, knowing full well Zatanna's spell had not been meant for her.

Setting her binoculars back down, Artemis shouldered her bow and began to scooch across the roof little by little, still keeping the slant of the rooftop between her and the main estate. Her snow camo was good, but it wasn't exactly Martian camouflage – better to play it safe, since Zee was apparently pushing the clock on their plan to draw out their target.

Before long she'd reached the end of her current building, leaving her with a choice: get closer and risk being seen on the swing across, or keep the distance and its corresponding disadvantages. The snow provided some cover, but not nearly enough to distract from a full person ziplining across the sky. Meanwhile, Zatanna had begun to speak again, in the strange reverberating voice that Artemis knew meant she was conversing in her magicked Russian; moreover, the soft, low timbre of her voice indicated she was turning on the other kind of charm, too. Artemis felt another (different) twinge of jealousy, then let it go without another thought. Within a few hours, Dubov would be handcuffed in the back of an Interpol helicopter, while she would be at 40,000 feet sipping champagne with the mysterious beauty who'd put him there.

Opting to stay put, Artemis hunkered down and fumbled for a moment with gloved fingers to withdraw the tracker from her fur-lined sleeve. When she'd managed it, she flipped it open, watching the red dot that was Zatanna flicker steadily from the middle of the tiny estate blueprint. The sorceress was on the south end of the ballroom, and just as Artemis went to press a button to see the other heat signatures in the room, another dot flared to life – green, their target. It seemed Zee had snuck a tracer onto him somehow.

"I read you," Artemis murmured into her comm, trying not to distract her partner. "Drop me a direction when you can."

"...long while since I have found myself back in Irkutsk," she heard Zatanna say. "It is every bit as lovely as I remember."

"I see," said another voice, this one male, suave, and louder than the guard's had been – closer to the spy mic. Closer to Zee. "You said you grew up near this area, miss? In what town?"

"My father and I lived just outside Zuy, alongside the Kitoy river."

"Got it," Artemis whispered. Zuy was northwest of their current location. The north part was no problem; the west she could fix easily – time to get in sightline of the northwest patio. They'd need to have a goon-free zone in which to work. Neither the Muravyov's thugs nor Dubov's guards could be allowed to interfere.

Slipping the tracker back into her sleeve, Artemis checked to make sure she had all her gear, then pulled her bow from her back and turned her gaze to the next building to the west. There was a nice spot up behind one of the spires, but to get there she'd have to zipline down in sight of everyone on the north side of the building. Not that there were many – just some guards and the valets, as well as the few party guests who were still trickling in – but it would be good to make sure their attention was elsewhere when she made her move.

"And what is it that brings you back, after so many years abroad?" Dubov was asking (it had to be Dubov – Zee wouldn't be spending this much time chatting him up if it wasn't).

"Unfinished business," said Zatanna cryptically.

As Artemis felt for a particular arrow in her quiver (gloves made it hard to count the notches that differentiated them), there came through her comm a series of shuffling sounds, a snippet of conversation she couldn't make out, then a light clink – more champagne, apparently.

"To business," said Dubov.

"To business," echoed Zatanna.

"Loud noise incoming," Artemis warned her partner, then pulled back her bowstring and let fly a hard, arcing shot over the top of the central mansion. A moment later it exploded in midair, high enough above the building that the most it would do was knock off a few shingles, though Artemis wasn't looking to see if it did, as the moment it went off she was shooting off a line to the adjacent building and zipping the hell off the north wing of the estate.

She hit the next roof and rolled, though it wasn't a hard landing anyway due to all the snow. Slinging her bow over her back, she climbed swiftly up to the side of the spire, where she had a perfect view of the entire courtyard.

"In position," she reported, hunkering down. The guards were still staring up at the sky over the roof of the main mansion, presumably trying to determine what had caused the loud sound. "We can play that off as a fireworks mishap, right?"

A tiny huff of breath in her comm told her that Zatanna was laughing at her in some capacity.

"Garin, Barinov, go and see what the racket is," Dubov ordered. Sounds of motion, then: "Not to worry, my darling. I am told this place is quite safe."

"Oh cute," Artemis remarked, smirking. "He's feeling protective. Did you give him the 'I'm pretty and scared' face?"

"You are told?" Zatanna repeated, her voice wavering almost imperceptibly. "You make me wonder in what context such a question arose, Mr. Dubov."

"Now he's gonna ask you to call him by his first name."

"Please, Miss Lukin," said Dubov. "Call me Alexei."

Artemis smirked, but didn't gloat (for once).

Another clinking of glasses – more champagne. Pulling her binoculars from her belt, Artemis took the opportunity to sweep the area again, watching for more goons. The northwest courtyard still had its three guards, though they'd abandoned their place by the door to get a better angle on the top of the building.

"Give me a second to clear these guys," Artemis said into her comm, unslinging her bow from her back. Zatanna was still speaking with Dubov – something about her fake history with the Muravyovs – but Artemis knew she'd heard.

Flipping open a panel on her wrist comm (more gadgetry borrowed from Dick), Artemis watched the men for a moment; even without the binoculars, she had a pretty clear view of them, though the snow was making it a bit tricky to track their head movements. If she played her cards right, she could get them out of Zatanna's way entirely.

"Comm going down in three...two...one... "

With a press of a button on her wrist, Artemis activated the radio jammer they'd brought, then swiftly edged around the side of the spire that concealed her. She probably had a minute until someone noticed all communications were blocked, less if she didn't take care of the guards efficiently, which fortunately she did. Three stun arrows, three clean hits, all in the space of a few seconds: their unconscious bodies thudded into the snow one after another.

Flicking the button on her wrist again, Artemis reinstated the comm, tapping into a few local channels to see if anyone had noticed. There didn't seem to be any commotion, at least; so far so good. Switching back to her own frequency, she pressed a finger to her earpiece.

"Bozos outside are down, but still out in the open," she reported to Zatanna. "If you take your gentleman caller outside, he'll definitely see. Should I go clean up, or will you just convince him not to notice?"

"That chandelier," Zatanna remarked, still conversing with Dubov. "Is it new? I had never noticed it before, as a girl."

"I read you," said Artemis, catching Zatanna's echo of her own wording.

Good. Zip-lining down into the courtyard would be obnoxious, plus she'd end up leaving footprints and drag marks all through the pristine snow, which would be only marginally less conspicuous than a few comatose bodies. "In that case, you're clear to go for the endgame whenever you want."

And so she settled in to wait. Retreating back behind the spire with its more protected vantage point, Artemis cycled through her security precautions – checking the various enemy comm lines, using her binoculars to sweep the courtyard and its surroundings, scanning for heat signatures in the adjacent areas to make sure no other guards were wandering towards their little covert playground. On the other end of the comm line, Zatanna continued to play her game, occasionally muttering a spell, though for the most part she didn't have to – Dubov was plenty interested.

Finally, Artemis heard the words she was waiting to hear:

"Perhaps we could go for a walk – just the two of us."

"I thought you'd never ask," she muttered, shifting to the side of the spire and setting her bow down so she could draw her binoculars. The shot she could make without them, easily – although there was some snow in the air, there was very little wind – but it only seemed polite to get a proper view of the situation before she fired any deadly projectiles into Zee's immediately vicinity.

A moment later, the grand doors swung open and Dubov stepped out. He was an imposing man, strong-jawed and bearded, dressed in a well-tailored suit that probably cost more than Artemis's entire civilian wardrobe. Zatanna was following half a step behind him, one hand resting lightly on his arm; though her shoulders were bare but for her jewelry, she showed no sign of minding the cold.

"That dress makes your boobs look great," Artemis remarked helpfully. This time, she got the pleasure of seeing the flicker of fond exasperation on the other woman's face through her binoculars. It was totally true – Zee was rocking a criminally elegant gown of crimson velvet, cut to show off her beautiful shoulders and clavicle; the cleavage was just a nice bonus. "Not that they don't always."

"What is – " Dubov began to ask as his eyes lighted on the first of his unconscious guards, but the unintelligible murmur of a spell interrupted his thought and his head jerked back towards Zatanna, a look of dopey infatuation crossing his face.

"What is what?" Zatanna asked sweetly, tilting her head to one side.

"Jesus," Artemis muttered. It wasn't fair how gorgeous Zee looked at the moment. Winter suited her impossibly well. Illuminated by nothing but the moon and the warm glow of the manor, she looked absolutely radiant, her skin pale and rosy against the deep red of her gown, her hair a lovely, glossy black, the glint of the jewels at her throat and wrists playing off of the sparkle of the snow.

Abruptly, Artemis remembered she was supposed to be on a mission, not ogling her partner. Now was the right moment – while the other guards were gone, while Dubov's own men were inside. Time to act, and swiftly.

Drawing a stun arrow from her quiver, Artemis set down the binoculars and picked up her bow instead.

"If you could, you know, angle him a little," she suggested into her comm. "I don't want to hit you by accident. That'd be a bad look."

"Look," echoed Zee to Dubov, pointing to the top of the roof from which Artemis had come.

There was nothing to see, but Dubov looked anyway, turning his body toward the long line of her arm.

"Perfect," muttered Artemis, squinting down the sight of her bow and drawing the arrow taut. "Target acquired in three...two..."

On "one," two things happened:

First, Artemis loosed her arrow, which sang through the still air and struck Dubov square in the chest. Second, the side door of the mansion abruptly burst open, signaling an explosion of gunfire that erupted into the courtyard

"DOWN, Zee," Artemis ordered immediately, though the sorceress didn't need to be told – she was already curling away from the action, shrinking down to make herself as small a target as possible as she uttered a hurried spell. What it was, Artemis couldn't tell, but she was focused on other things anyway as she snatched another arrow from her quiver and swiveled to target the door. Whoever was inside it wasn't coming out; she could only see the noses of two machine guns through the doorway, no people.

Well, there was one way to deal with that.

Activating the explosive charge on her arrow with a press of her thumb, Artemis let fly, then took off down the roof at a run (a clumsy, snow-hindered run, but a run nonetheless). A loud boom and a faint wave of heat told her the arrow had met its mark. More importantly, as predicted, the snow that the explosion's heat had vaporized threw up a cloud of steam between the doorway and the occupants of the courtyard. Artemis got a glimpse of them as she leapt from the lowest point of the roof – Zee, crouched beside Dubov's prone body, her gloved hands twisting to aid her in the spell she was preparing.

Hitting the ground and rolling, Artemis swung upright and fired off another arrow in the vicinity of the smoking doorway. A crackle of electricity and a garbled shout told her it had found its mark.

"Any idea how many we're dealing with?" she shouted, as Zee was now close enough to hear her without the comm.

"I saw three, but there could be more," Zatanna replied as Artemis shot another stun arrow into the mess. "Jam their radios."

"Right, good call," said Artemis, hurriedly searching for the appropriate button on her wrist comm. "Got it!"

"Etativel mih hgih pu," said Zatanna.

She rose to her feet as Dubov's body soared skyward, out of the fray, hoisted up by Zee's magic. A split second later, two men charged out of the clearing steam, guns clutched against their tuxedo jackets – definitely Muravyov's goons.

"Got it," said Artemis, charging forward as the thugs caught sight of the two women and lifted their weapons. Before they could open fire, she had ducked and rolled up between them, sweeping one's legs out from beneath him while she seized the other's weapon and used the butt of it to lay him flat. While he thudded to the ground, unconscious, the other froze into the partially melted snow when an enchantment from Zee turned it to solid ice.

"Nice," Artemis remarked, straightening out as the last of the steam dissipated, returning the courtyard to its still, snow-dusted state. There were four men out; two on the ground at Artemis's feet, two in the charred remains of the east doorframe, and sounds of shouting from within the manor hinted that they wouldn't be alone for long. "Time to call Interpol?"

"Sounds like a plan," Zatanna nodded. "I'll secure the area."

As Artemis withdrew her Interpol comm from its place on her belt, Zatanna lifted a hand toward the rubble and uttered something below her breath; a strange shimmer rose up to fill the doorway. Then, with a swift "kcol," she sealed the other two entrances. To get to them now, the guards would have to go all the way around the outside of the manor, which would make them easy pickings for Artemis's bow.

"Interpol station 47-2, this is Justice League theta squad," said Artemis. "We have apprehended Alexei Dubov and we're ready to transfer custody. Sending coordinates now."

"We read you," crackled the voice on the other end of the line. "Our men have been standing by and should arrive at your location within five minutes."

"Understood," said Artemis, hooking the radio back onto her belt and turning to Zatanna. "Supercops will be here momentarily. We should probably get him down, huh?"

She craned her neck to look up above the mansion, where Dubov's unconscious body was still dangling idly, out of shooting range.

"I don't know," said Zatanna, tilting her head. "I bet getting run over by a helicopter makes for a great party story."

Artemis snorted, looking down as the goon she'd whacked with his own gun began to stir. A swift kick to the head took care of that (she specialized).

"Well," said Artemis, turning to Zatanna as the Interpol helicopter made its way back into the sky. "I'd say that went reasonably well, wouldn't you?"

They had an audience – twelve or so goons, watching helplessly from behind the glimmer of the magical barrier Zatanna had created in the ruins of the doorway. Fortunately (for the goons), no assault on the charm, be it by fist or by gunfire, had any effect whatsoever.

"If by 'reasonably well' you mean we accomplished our objective with zero casualties and minimal property damage, then sure," said Zatanna, waving a hand at her dress – immediately, the snow erupted from it in a powdery cloud, leaving it smooth and red and perfectly clean. "We did all right."

"Have I mentioned that this dress makes your boobs look great?" asked Artemis, sticking one corner of her bow into the ground and leaning on it.

Zee gave her a look.

"Once or twice."

"I'll probably keep mentioning it until you take it off," said Artemis helpfully.

"Well then," said Zatanna, laughing and arching one eyebrow. "You sure do know how to incentivize a girl."

"Among other things."

"You're terrible. Let's get to the road so Alfred can pick us up."

"I'm terrible. Let's get to the road so Alfred can pick us up."

And with a friendly wave to their disgruntled onlookers, the two heroines headed out.

"I could get used to this," Artemis remarked as she peeled off yet another layer of snow gear. The jet was halfway to cruising altitude; they would be in New York before the sun could catch up with them. "You, me, missions..."

"Private jets," Zatanna added from her perch on the arm of the loveseat.

"Private jets," Artemis agreed. "With private hot tubs."

Zee laughed.

"Shall I get the water started?"

"That will not be necessary," came Alfred's voice from the cockpit. "I took the liberty of drawing your bath before you came on board. It is, after all, quite cold."

"You're the best, Alfred," Artemis called, casting one boot aside.

"I am aware," he replied.

"Shall I meet you there?" asked Zatanna, rising and laying a hand on Artemis's shoulder.

Artemis glanced up from her other boot, which she was attempting to unlace.

"Sure," she said. "But save some champagne for me."

"I'm the lush, now?" Zee laughed fondly, then kissed the top of Artemis's head and disappeared into the back.

Three shirts, two pairs of pants, three pairs of socks, two garter holsters and a utility belt later, Artemis padded her way to the back of the jet in just her underwear and a loose tank top (she hadn't even worn a bra for this mission – who was going to know under all those layers?). The room was steamy and warm, the damp heat sinking into her skin immediately, and she gave a pleasant shudder at the sensation.

"Come on in," said Zatanna's voice from somewhere in the steam. "The water's fine."

"No, you're fi – "

"Shut up and get in here, Artemis."

Grinning, Artemis reached down to pull off her tank top and toss it into a corner, where her panties soon followed. Naked, she stepped up onto the raised dais of the hot tub, then arched one leg over the top and tested the water with her foot.

"God yes," she murmured.

Abruptly, there was a cool hand on her foot, sliding up her calf, over her knee and along the top of her thigh as Zatanna rose from the water to greet her.

"Hello," Artemis smiled, eyes flicking down, across the smooth softness of her partner's body. "This dress makes your boobs look even better."

"I know," said Zatanna, and kissed her.

With a sigh, Artemis let herself melt into the warmth of the moment, hands finding their way to Zatanna's breasts as the two of them sank gladly down into the water.

Mission accomplished.