I've started posting these on Tumblr already, and figured I would share it here, too. Hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Wally/Artemis

Summary: A series of drabbles inspired by Hedley's Storms album and Simple Plan's Get Your Heart On!, the story title being a combination of the album names. There'll be a drabble for nearly every song, creating a compilation.

This is my try at these two, so please, let me know what you think if you read it. Title from the song by Simple Plan, where the lyrics are from.

You played me like an amateur
Then stabbed me like a murderer
I'm left for dead, another one of your victims
It's not like you're unpredictable
But your act is so believable
I know it's nothing personal
It's just business as usual

There is fire in her eyes. A raw, smoldering flame, dancing in the depth of dark irises. It is wild, untamed and every bit as dangerous as she is. It burns through the space between them, evaporating the sweat from their flesh, ripping the air from his lungs. These embers are what drive him to keep his cool, to still his beating heart, to keep him from running the other way. They are what keep his focus.

Not the angry way her brows furrow.

Not the quiver of her finger, barely holding the string in place.

And certainly not the arrowhead digging into the fabric of his uniform—just above his heart.

In this fractured moment, green can only stare into grey. He can't help but search for familiarity in the depths of hellish hate, of lies and of distrust. Where is the girl that laughed at his corny jokes? That smacked him for hitting on teammates? That would fight with him until their throats were raw, and just as soon kiss him senseless at the drop of a pin?

He cannot find her, lying hidden beneath the hostility facing him. Beneath the orange and black that replace familiar green. Beneath the smudges of grime and blood that have smeared her hands with dirt she simply can't wash off. Simply can't walk away from. Simply can't come back from.

Because she isn't coming back. She can't. She won't. And even if she wanted to, he'd never let her. Not after this. Not after standing here, daring her with his eyes to let go, to fire, to go all the damn way and step into her father's shoes and shoot him.

"You shouldn't be here," she hisses, finally breaking the silence, her steely gaze never leaving his.

He grunts. "I wanted to see. I wanted to know for sure."

Her shoulders straighten. Her eyes narrow. "Find what you were looking for?"

He laughs—and it's hollow, and dark, and carries none of the Wally she's used to. "Not even close." He takes a step forward and she, one back. They stay locked together in this offensive stance, caged tigers ready to burst free. Which he supposes is ironic, given her new gig.

"You won't," she adds, taking another step away from him. He follows, because he refuses to let her slip away. Not again. Not this easily.

The dying streetlamp outside the alley bathes her in light, and he tries to think about how she used to be beautiful. How he used to call her that. All the time, like it rolled off his tongue. But now, when he tries it, all he can see is orange and black, and the logo blatant displayed on her chest. Not any arrow anymore, just a shadow of what she used to be.

Anger claws its way up his throat, his rage a beast begging to bet set free. He came here for answers, with the intention of setting things straight, but he can't. Everything is pain and fury and disgust, and he lashes out. "Why?" He spits, green eyes narrowing. "Why did you do this to us?" She bares her teeth a little as she forces the arrow to dig in just a little more. "To the Team," he clarifies.

"This is who I am," she says.

"A con artist? A thief? A liar?"

She scoffs. "Your priorities are a bit off there, Kid."

"'Course they were. Had you on top, didn't I?" It doesn't matter that his eyes are angry, his posture spills hatred—her cheeks still heat up. He never was good at wording things. "Was it all a lie? All of it? The time you spent cooking with M'gann, or competing with Dick, or teaching Conner, or sparring with Kaldur, or—" he falls into a hush, because he won't involve himself. No more than he already has. He won't go that far. "Was any of it real?"

She knows what he's implying, what remains unsaid. But for any of this to work, she can't care. She can't give in. He's angry, wants to be, has the right to be, and she'll give him that. She'll tell him what he wants to hear. "No." She hates how her voice quivers just slightly. "Just business." She hates how she can still spot the hurt skitter across his green eyes for just a split-second before anger replaces it.

She hates how the corner of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. "You were always a terrible liar, Artemis."

"It's Tigress, now."

"Yeah, sure. That's why you've already shot and killed me, just the way he wants you to." He raises his hands at his sides and steps back, finally. She focuses on the small hole her arrow made in his uniform instead of the way he's looking at her. "Have fun playing daddy's favorite, Artemis. I'm sure you'll get tired of it eventually." And he turns, with one last pointed look at the arrow she still has notched, ready to fire through his mangled heart. "The way you did with me."

The hair flutters slightly around her face in the wind, and she doesn't need to look up to know he's gone.

And he's not coming back.