Strangers in the Night
Beta: knottedblonde (thank you!)
Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice.
When Artemis Crock wakes up, it's to the smell of herbs and spices wafting in from the kitchen. Her back still aches from the long shift at work, and her vision is immediately impounded by the sight of papers scattered all over her shabby bed.
A sudden crashing of pots against pans makes her remember one thing: Artemis Crock lives alone.
She leaps out of her squeaky bed at the speed of light, cursing loudly when a spring pops out of the mattress.
"Still swearing like a sailor, princess?" She swivels around to face the speaker - an immaculately dressed woman in her mid-twenties. Artemis smiles.
"Still breaking into my house, Zatanna?"
Zatanna laughs flippantly, flinging her black hair over her shoulder. "Family trade," she says vaguely.
"Right." Artemis pulls a black jumper over her singlet. "Did you cook something?" A bowl of spaghetti suddenly appears before her, the earlier aroma flooding into her nose. "I love you."
"Well, gotta get you fed for the big day, since you can't even do that yourself." Artemis snorts before taking the bowl into her small studio's living room, which is, frankly, just a few steps away. She's surprised to see how clean it is for once and thanks Zatanna for her mildly-concerning habit of sneaking into Artemis's pigsty of a home and cleaning it up. Not that she's complaining.
The papers and sheets that normally sit in piles about the room are gone, and she's suddenly, acutely, aware of a blue-eyed stranger lounging on her couch.
"Uh." There's a strand of spaghetti hanging limply from her mouth and red sauce smudged on and around her lips. She hastily wipes it off with her sleeve. "Hello?"
"Morning."
Artemis's brows furrow together when Zatanna stands beside the stranger with an elated beam. They hold hands and smile. "Excuse me," she starts, but is interrupted by her friend's giggling.
"This is Dick, my fiancé." Artemis's jaw almost hammers into the ground. Dick swiftly extracts an elegant black envelope from the inside of his trench coat and, grinning, holds it out to her with a smile. Artemis continues to gape like a fish before Zatanna unceremoniously shoves it into her hand.
She pouts. "I'm getting hitched and all you do is stare?"
Artemis snaps back to reality when a cuckoo bird suddenly flies out of her wall-clock. Zatanna and Dick share a laugh. "Pardon me," she says drily, "but I think my reaction is warranted." The couple look at each other oddly. "When did you even have a boyfriend?"
Zatanna, completely unfazed by her outrage, shrugs nonchalantly. "I didn't. We've just known each other for...an age." Dick nods along with her.
"Don't worry, Arty, " Artemis twitches at the familiarity of the nickname, "If it helps, our dads had the same reaction, if not worse."
Something suddenly clicks, and fills her with a mixture of extreme annoyance and relief. "You Dick." She hasn't seen him since she graduated several years ago, and even before then they'd only been acquaintances. It's a tiny bit disconcerting, the fact that he's not the same fifteen-year-old boy anymore.
"Nice of you to finally come around," Dick pats her back. "It's been a while, but we wanted to tell you in person."
Artemis gingerly opens the envelope, smiling slightly when a dramatic red and white invitation pops out. Zatanna starts bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously.
"So?"
She's not the type to hug, but settles for one anyway.
After they leave, with their arms wrapped around each other's waists, Artemis lets out a deep breath and sets to work admiring Zatanna's handiwork. Her files are neatly colour-coded into different categories, and her small corner-desk is finally cleared up. She gives it a week before it's returned to its cluttered state and another few days before she uses her bed as a working space again.
It's not that Artemis is a messy person by nature. On normal occasions, she prefers military-level organisation and spotless rooms all around her. But her boss is piling on more and more paperwork by the second, and Artemis is steadily growing more accustomed to frazzled living spaces. It worries her, but she tries to compensates for the mess with freshly-ironed dress suits and sleek, professional hairstyles.
She likes to feel in control of her surroundings, and until the new exhibition at the museum is over, everything outside of her apartment needs to be immaculate.
Exactly fifteen minutes after Artemis Crock steps out of her cedar wood doorway, the Central City Museum comes into view; she drinks in the sight with a sense of pride. Years of relentless academia coupled with working her way up the ranks of museum staff climaxes at this pivotal exhibition, and nothing can stop her from finally earning the curatorial position she wants.
She grabs her leather briefcase from her car and walks in through the staff entrance with her head held high. A few members greet her on the way to the curator's office as she touches up on some final details before reaching her destination.
When Artemis opens the door of her boss's office, she sees a woman reclining elegantly on her chair, fountain pen in hand as she scribbles down notes in perfect calligraphy. Regina is the epitome of aged perfection, and executes every task flawlessly. Artemis smiles briefly before entering.
"Good morning."
She looks up from her documents, allows Artemis an uncharacteristic smile in return, then removes her glasses and welcomes her into a comfortable chair.
"Good morning, is everything ready?"
She nods. "The preparations are all finished for the press tour, and I'm placing some of the new recruits in charge of school tours, as I intended earlier on."
Regina gives her a stern glance, but says nothing. Artemis takes it as an opening for more elaboration.
"Over half of our current staff will be retiring when the year ends, and sooner; so I've been thinking of training my own team in preparation for the museum's future. And," she continues when Regina's expression starts to soften, "I believe it is in all of our best interests to establish a new team that works alongside the more experienced staff members we have now. No one needs to step down from their position until they are ready, and when they are, there will be new members with expertise that can be passed down to the next generations."
A nod of approval. "Well said, Artemis." She rises from her office desk – elegantly, Artemis has no idea how she moves like that - and passes her a plastic name tag with her name, picture and the word 'Curator' written over the top in bold letters.
"When the exhibition starts, Artemis, I want you to wear this. In fact, do not take it off until you're old and ready to retire. Consider it my legacy."
Artemis almost sheds a tear in thanks, but stops when a staff member knocks on the office door.
"Mrs Williams, the press has arrived. They might end up destroying the front door any time now." Regina dismisses him with a nod and turns to Artemis with a confident smile.
"Good luck, darling."
The anticipation makes Wally want to explode, so Aunt Iris sends him off to grab coffee for her and her team with a few notes in his hand. He thinks it's stupid, and boring, waiting for a museum to open its doors when exhibitions on Ancient Greece pop up all the time, everywhere. Seriously, who even cares?
The press, because apparently Uncle Barry doesn't give them enough on a daily basis. And Batman, because of some spooky ancient relic that has magical properties. Wally scoffs before voicing out an order for six coffees, on the go.
Magic isn't real.
He remembers Zatanna smacking the underside of his head and Kal rolling his eyes in exasperation. Just take the mission, Wally, we need you.
Order 160 pops up on the screen, so Wally presents his receipt to the girl and walks out with a tray in his hands. He's tempted to zip over to the museum, but realises that he doesn't really want to be there either. His steps lose their usual briskness and he slows down to the pace of the jogger beside him.
Wally arrives after a good ten minutes of walking. The team complain under their breaths about the cold coffee; Wally really cannot care any less. He's in the midst of making adjustments to the microphones, and ignoring their reproachful glares, when he hears Aunt Iris call him over.
"Yeah?" He stalks over to his aunt without bothering to look up from his shoes. They really need replacing.
"I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine. Artemis, this is my nephew Wally. He's in town for a few weeks to help me out with the job." Wally's eyes widen at the name. That name. He looks up and gapes at the woman standing in front of him, hair pulled into a professional bun with a sleek black suit hugging her body.
He only knows one person named Artemis, and she hasn't changed a bit.
"H-hey," he stammers out a greeting, "How've you been?"
She looks at him curiously, something that Iris shares as well. "Fine, thank you. Have we met before?"
He winces at the politeness of her tone, the unfamiliarity of her words. She really hasn't changed a bit.
"Yeah, Gotham City Academy? Class of 2011? We were classmates." He sees his aunt's expression light up and notices the lack of recognition in Artemis's eyes with a pang in his chest.
She nods and smiles politely; he knows it's for the sake of being nice. "That was a marvellous year. Or, it would have been, if Dick hadn't trashed the valedictory dinner. Or every other lunchbreak before that," Artemis adds, as an afterthought. He nods in affirmation – he'd been Dick's right-hand man for most of those attacks, but of course she only remembers Dick. Everyone does.
"Well, isn't this fantastic?" Iris re-joins the conversation enthusiastically, "How about you come over for dinner sometime? To catch up with an old friend. It's been a while since you've visited, too." He wants to run away and hide in a hole for the rest of his life when Artemis hesitantly agrees to her offer - Sunday night, because she's going to be swamped with work for a while. He leaves them a few seconds later, because it's interview time and they're both entering what Aunt Iris likes to call Professional Mode.
Thankfully, Wally's ear piece starts buzzing, so he presses down on it to answer. It's Dick.
"Bats wants an update on your progress." His voice resonates clearly through the piece.
"Doors still closed. The curator's just talking to the press right now." He looks back at his aunt, "namely Iris."
"The curator, Artemis Crock?" Dick's cackle makes him grind his teeth together in frustration.
"Yes, her. Why do I feel like you knew this?"
"I know everything."
Wally doesn't have a comeback for that, because for the most part, Dick does know everything. "Dude, you totally set this up. My life is over."
He hasn't been pining over Artemis since their graduation ceremony ten years ago – Dick knows this, god damn it – and seeing her is bringing up the same wave of unwanted memories that he's been working hard to suppress for years. Sure, there was his crush on M'gann during their younger years, before joining the League, and a fleeting relationship with Linda, but Artemis is… Artemis. The striking blonde prodigy with steel eyes and a spitfire's heart.
"Did you at least talk to her?"
"She doesn't even remember me," Wally replies miserably. Dick doesn't even bother acting sympathetic.
"I doubt she even knew you existed until today," the comm starts to crackle a bit, signalling the end of their conversation. "Update us as soon as something happens. Cheers."
The line dies moments later, leaving him to stand by in contemplation.
Honestly, Wally isn't sure why everything's suddenly bubbling up inside of him, when he's spent the last decade or so pushing his idyllic high school days to the back of his mind, then chomping his way through gruelling piles of quantum physics textbooks and particle theory papers, on top of his extracurricular League activities. He likes to think that it's all because of the unreciprocated feelings, and the sensitive teenager inside of him who's still mulling over the could-have-beens and what-ifs of his (lack of) relationship with Artemis.
By the time Wally's finished, Aunt Iris is downing the rest of her coffee and washing down her breath with fresh mints, and GBS is making its way to the front of the queue without him. He sighs.
This is going to be a long mission.