Hello! I have not written much since I posted my first fanfiction on here, entitled "Mine" several years ago. Unlike that first one, this story is based on the Television show and comic series Young Justice. The story takes place after the second season, and right after the final episode "Endgame". My story follows Artemis Crock and Dick Grayson, and the struggles they go through after losing their best friend Wally West. It deals with the guilt they both feel, and the bond that is created between them because of that guilt.
Please comment and review! All comments and feedback are appreciated.
The reality of it all hit her then. Hard. She hadn't fully understood it when her friends gathered around her, helped her to the Bioship, and took her home to Palo Alto. She hadn't realized it when she made her way up the walkway to their house. Her house. That's when it hit her, when she crossed the threshold into the only place she had ever actually felt she could call home. Thanks to him. The hot, salty tears spilled from her eyes, streaming down her face and dropping silently to the floor.
Upon hearing the door open, a joyful bark came from the bedroom, and a white pit bull happily appeared to great her. The dogs soft, chocolate eyes looked up at her with so much love and adoration, that she only felt herself starting to sob harder. The dog, feeling his owner's powerfully distraught emotions, cocked his head and let out a whine. Dropping to her knees, the girl opened her arms wide and shook as the dog leaned into her embrace.
"Oh, Brucely..." Was all she could get out, as the dog began to wiggle in an attempt to lick the tears off of her face. It had been his idea to get a dog, his idea to give up their old lives as crime fighters behind masks to become normal teenagers and attend college. But it had been her idea to agree to go back to wearing the green suite and holding the bow. It had been her idea, and now it had cost him his life. The overwhelming guilt she felt was unbearable and it was hers and hers alone. It was her fault that Wally West, the love of her life, was dead.
A swift punch made a dent in the wall of the old, battered apartment building. The sound of sirens filled the air, like always in the city of Blüdhaven but for once the boy did not care. For once the world's problems meant nothing to him. The sweat beat on his forehead, and his blue eyes gleamed with an anger he had not felt in years. He wanted to scream, he wanted to beat something senseless, and he wanted to cry. So many emotions raged inside of him, that his head pounded and his heart ached. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." As each word escaped his lips, he let out another punch to the wall, making the dents even bigger as the plaster cracked and split. His knuckles, used to the pain, barely even stung. But he wanted them to. He wanted to feel the pain of each thrust of his arm. Slamming both fists to the wall at once, he leaned forward until his forehead rested on its surface. He turned, sliding his back along the wall until he sat on the floor.
He stared across the room of his pathetic apartment, stared without really seeing anything. His vision began to blur, and he felt the hot tears slip over his lips. Wiping them away with his sleeve, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He began to pull of his black uniform, staring at the blue, bird shaped emblem that stretched across the front, where it would lie on his chest when he wore it. The symbol of Nightwing. "No..." He muttered under his breath, tossing the uniform and black mask onto his unmade bed. Putting on jeans and a black collared shirt, he took of his communicator and looked at it. The communicator had been his connection to the team. If any member was in danger, he could find out and go help them. When he led the team, he made it mandatory that the communicator stay on at all times to prevent danger. Now that didn't matter.
Turning it off, he tossed it onto the bed beside his suite, and looked away. The communicator was useless, a foolish childhood hope that if he knew his friends and teammates were in danger, he could run to the rescue and save them. He understood now, that wasn't the way the world worked. He had stood not far from his best friend when he died, and he had been unable to do anything about it but watch. It was his fault, that he had convinced his friend to take on the mantle of a superhero again, telling him it was just one last time he was needed to help save the world. He never imagined it would truly be his last fight. The two had been through so much together, that in ways he never imagined it could end. The guilt ripped through him, making his breaths ragged and sharp. It was his fault, and his alone that Wally West, his best friend, was dead.