Strength


It was a Sunday. A rest day. But it was a peculiarly hot and restless summer Sunday and half the team was missing from the Cave. No amount of Call of Duty would satiate Wally's consistent itch inside him to get up and do something. Of course he could anywhere he wanted, but was there really any place in particular he wanted to go?

Wherever Artemis is.

Wally bit the inside of his cheek as his subconscious printed those three words in his brain. It was true, though he'd never admit it out loud. On the outside, the two seemed to irritate the other, even try to out-do each other. Wally's lack of jokes with the blonde and Artemis's biting remarks with the speedster would often seem as though they were rivals, but anyone on the team could see the pent up sexual frustration and the suspense building before they snapped and threw themselves into a furious kiss. It was just the two Leaguers were practically oblivious to this fact and were blinded by their petty arguments.

Wally threw down the controller and stood. He rubbed one foot against the back of his other heel and raised a hand to play with his lip as he questioned what exactly he wanted to do. The Cave was eerily quiet, without Megan cooking unsuccessfully in the kitchen, Conner nearly always inanimate, Robin darting around as he worked on whatever the hell it is he does, Kaldur solemn and stoic, and of course, Artemis strutting around. Wally thought a spare moment on checking in on Zatanna, but that wasn't really his area of expertise and he hardly knew the magician girl. With a sigh, he opted out for the one activity that would burn away his bottled energy. He crossed from the living room to the kitchen, grabbed an extra energy bar, and then headed for the training room.

On his way, Wally grabbed some clothes to work out in and another to change into after a quick shower. He changed, entered the training room with his last bundle of new clothing, and then stood uncertainly just inside the door. Wally never really needed to work out; all his running, constantly, kept him pretty fit, not to mention it burned calories, and thus fat, as quickly as paper catching fire. He looked across the gym to where he could just make out dummies in the far back, a couple arrows expertly embedded in vital regions. The tails of the arrows were a forest green, sleek and sharp, and Wally could practically imagine the slender blonde standing, poised, at the beginning of the range, firing arrows without a second thought and hitting her targets flawlessly. Wally's brows furrowed together and he averted his eyes. How was it whenever Artemis was actually around, he didn't want to think about her; but when she wasn't around, it took little things for him to think of her fondly?

There was a special treadmill created just for Wally, and he smiled as he stepped to the left of the room where the large piece of machinery sat waiting for him. He threw his things to the side and stepped up onto the belt. There was always a thrill that came to running that would never tire; to be traveling so fast that it broke the sound barrier. He thought idly if there was anything else in the world that could give him that kind of exhilaration, quickly believing that there wasn't with a smug smile when he blinked, and in that moment, he imagined in the dark of his eyelids of kissing Artemis. It startled him really and his smile dropped. The uneasy in the pit of his stomach from having nothing to do with all this energy jolted and he hastily punched buttons on the keypad of the treadmill. In moments, the belt began to move, picking up pace so that Wally started from a jog, to a sprint, to a hurtling movement in a matter of seconds. His legs were indefinable as he ran; the treadmill's whirring so loud it reverberated in the room, and his footfalls so incessant, it creating a lethargic droning. Short, sharp pants escaped Wally's lips and he focused hard on the wall before him, thinking of a target, a goal, a destination. Nothing was really coming to mind and he stumbled in his lack of concentration. With nothing left to imagine and in desperate need to keep running and not actually injure himself in falling, Artemis's face swam before him.

Wally accepted the notion and worked on creating a scenario. He began with imagine Artemis in all her glory; her sharp hazel eyes, narrowing in intimidation or widening in surprise or soft in content- her long, beautiful golden hair, up in a professional ponytail, exposing her angular features, or down in lush waves around her shoulders, nearly to her slim waist- her sun-kissed skin, smooth and unmarred due to her distance from battles with the help of her bow- her full lips, a soft rose-petal hue- her height, only a few inches shorter, and her build, lean and toned and firm- her stance, when she placed her hands on her hips haughtily or when she crossed her arms defensively or when she leaned forward on her toes, hands behind her back in an innocent, careening way- her voice. Oh, her voice. Always husky, always seducing, either harsh in command or in arguments, or soft in an off-hand way… or when she sang. When she sang to the kids as they took care of them in a world without parents. Wally never knew she could sing, and despite the lack of a few words, her voice was transformed to an angel's as she sang in comfort for the children.

Looking down, Wally realized he had been running for nearly 10 minutes straight, time flying as his mind strayed away on Artemis. He pressed the speed pad of the treadmill a few notches up and adjusted to the acclimating pace before he found himself zoning out on the wall again, eyes glazing over.

A feeling a panic arose in his chest as a particular scenario began to unravel in his chest. Artemis, unconscious, bleeding and wounded, held in the arms of a faceless enemy while laughter cackled around him, inside him, provoking him. Desperation to have the limp girl in his arms and not the brutal ones she lied in now pushed him forward, and he ran with all that he had, reaching out, but no matter how fast Wally could run, no matter how much he stretched his arm, his empty hand screaming for Artemis, his voice lost as all his conservation was put into obtaining Artemis, the faceless man continued to recede and the blood continued to leak from the corner of Artemis's parted lips. His breaths seared his throat as they entered his lungs rapidly, his head began to spin as his own intensity and speed began to affect him, and his hand felt void and cold as it couldn't hold Artemis's. The laughter rose in volume, thrumming against one side of his ears as on the other side, his heartbeat throbbed like a hummingbird. He wanted to see Artemis's eyes open but they were shut, pale like in death. He wanted the red stain across her cheek to not be there but it still spattered like a spider web down her jaw and onto her neck. He wanted to her hair in his face, to revel in whatever scent the gorgeous volume held tainted there, but it hung seemingly bare like a tree in the winter without its leaves. It was torture, pure torture, and Wally thought he'd rather tear off his own leg than to deal with this agony of Artemis dangling before his reach one more second.

Like a snap, Wally reared from his imagination and looked down to see the cause of his agony. His finger had never left the pad of the speed leveling and it had continued to rise to unfathomable levels until it couldn't reach any higher. There was a constant lancing pain that moved from his right knee to his waist and he shut off the treadmill, running with the belt for a few more minutes until it finally stopped. When Wally stepped from the treadmill, he staggered, not adjusted to remaining still. His feet burn with each step and with one look at the treadmill, he could see smoke rising faintly from the belt, the smell of burnt rubber permeating the surrounding air. Absently, his hand rose to his chest, just above his heart, and held there, and the images of Artemis, unattainable and potentially dead, haunted his reality. He was sweating profusely and the flickering time on the treadmill accounted for a near hour of his self-motivated torment. Whether he was sweating from the exertion or from his anguishing mind, he couldn't distinguish. All that this training has taught him is that Artemis gives him unimaginable strength and that she means more to him that he could ever allow himself to realize. His fingers dug into the flesh protecting his heart and the archer's name died on his lips as he tried to breathe. He stooped to collect his fresh clothing and awkwardly made way for the bathrooms.

Artemis gave Wally something to fight for and Artemis gave Wally the strength to do so.


A/N: I think the pair is really beginning to grow on me! So this was just a random drabble! Please R&R, gracias! - xoxo