Disclaimer: disclaimed
Suggested listening: Set The Fire To The Third Bar by Snow Patrol.
There's a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his leg, buried in layers of skin and tissue and muscle. He can't feel anything below his waist, and blood's seeping out faster than even his body can make it. Belatedly, he realizes he's in shock. He can't move—well, he can, but it seems like too much effort all of a sudden—so he stares at the darkened sky, foreshadowing rain. He hears the sounds of a battle: the screaming and blasting and crying and fighting. He feels the pieces of building uncomfortably supporting him, the Hall of Justice demolished by one easily made explosive. And finally, he senses her.
Some girls are pretty criers. Tears make their eyes shimmer and their lips pucker and cheeks turn red and they just look so helpless you can't help but comfort them. But not Artemis—she's all bloodshot eyes and deep, cutting fear in her words. Her golden hair looks like a halo, like an avenging angel, and her mask is torn, but she takes no notice as she slides hard next to him, cradling his head in her lap.
It's hard to make out Artemis's words, between the buzzing in his ears and the aforementioned battle noises. Green eyes wander from her bloody forehead to frantic eyes and flushed skin before settling on her lips. All he understands is a monologue along the lines of "ohgod Wally stay with me please don't let go you'll be okay we'll get you help stay calm I'm here and I won't go can you hear me don't worry—" The words repeat again and again, meaningless to his numb mind. All he knows is that he's fascinated by this woman (a teammate, rival, friend, comrade, lover), who seems so vibrantly different without her constant snark and wit. All he sees now is a terrified, sobbing human being desperate to save him.
Life is leaving him, he can feel it. Slowly but surely he's growing more tired and cold. A tourniquet won't do much good now; even if Artemis had found him earlier it wouldn't have saved him. There's just too much blood. He won't last much longer. Memories dance before his eyes, from childhood to the experiment to Young Justice to Uncle Barry's death to the explosion, but the most vivid and most bright are the ones with Artemis. He doesn't want his last one to be one of panic and desperation. "Hey," he rasps.
"Wally, stay with me, okay?" She's trying to be reassign but her eyes betray her fear. "Zatanna's on her way; she'll heal you and everything will be fine, so don't worry, all right?" She sucks in a shaky breath; tries to smile. She's lying. Zatanna is laying somewhere with part of her arm missing and in a haze of pain deeper than Wally's, but Artemis can't—won't—let him know that. She won't let him know how afraid she is. The world has narrowed to her and him and she'll be damned if anyone will intrude upon them.
He blinks, and it's a struggle to reopen his eyes. He can see the ache in her eyes, and doesn't see the point in bringing his impending morality to the surface. "D'you remember…the song we danced to?"
A half smile tugs at her lips, despite the situation. "Yeah. You're a crappy singer, Wall-man."
His eyes stare into hers and her heart throbs. "One more time?"
Her chin trembles, but she bites her lips hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying again. Instead of speaking she rests her forehead on his own and runs her fingers through his hair. The gesture is familiar and her muted sobs fade into shuddering. She doesn't understand why he isn't scared of death, but he's always been braver than her. It would be just like him to worry for her more than himself.
"If I lay here, if I just lay here," the words are unmelodic and jumbled and off-key and yet somehow so beautiful. "If I just lay here, would you lie…with me and…" he grunts as pain stabs through him but he won't be afraid now. "Just for…get the world?"
The long fingers sliding through his hair pause at his discomfort, but Artemis's lips are at his ear and she whispers, "Forget what we're told, before we get too old." She pauses, kisses him softly. Chapped lips rub bloodstained ones, but it's not an unfamiliar feeling for either of them. "Show me a garden that's bursting into life." She attempts to sing the verse quietly, but her voice breaks.
He rasps out, "All that I am," but sharply inhales as agony flares again. At her broken sob he continues with, "All that I ever was," He takes her chin—God, it's so hard to move his arms—and tilts her face towards him, so he can see her tearstained eyes. "Is here in your perfect eyes. They're all I can see," he completes, more stating the words at the end.
She imagines his soul is like his eyes: bright and beautiful and good. So good that he'd never leave her, no matter where she came from and how confused about where she was going. And now he doesn't have a choice and she'll be back to being alone. So she cries in pain, in fear, in sorrow, in grief; pure, clear tears trailing down her pale skin and dripping onto his own. She holds onto Wally and whispers meaningless words of comfort and love, clings to his hands like they're her own life (because they are). Artemis truly lets her guard down, and for once she doesn't care about masks, or control, or honor. All she wants is Wally.
There's no perfect words to say to a man dying, so she smoothes her calloused hands over his face, tracing his eyebrows, lips and nose again and again, eyes never leaving his. He's colder now, and his breathing is shallower and quieter. A hint of anxiety flickers over his expression, and she knows it's time.
She cups his cheek and whispers, "This isn't the end. We'll see each other again." Green eyes dull further, limbs grow colder. For the last time she presses a loving, gentle kiss to his forehead. "I promise."
Pale lips tug into a faint smile and his eyes close. There's no worrying about the existence of a soul, or reincarnation, or the afterlife—just peace.
Quietly, shakily, perfectly, she murmurs, "I don't know where, confused about how as well; just know that these things will never change for us at all." It's a farewell and a hail, a goodbye and an ending.
And then Artemis stands, expression hard and fists tight. She does not glance back at the body of her beloved, does not allow herself even another moment to grieve. The sky opens its dam and water begins to flood the earth, lightening flashes and thunder roars. Without hesitation or doubt she throws herself into battle.
this is war
Back to depressing stuff, it seems...
Anyway, so I was listening to Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol and was struck with inspiration. Not the good kind, with sunshine and rainbows and happily ever afters, obviously.
Still a little dubious about the ending, but I'm not good at tidying things up (ask anyone). But I think Wally would come to understand, if in only his last moments, that it's not so much worrying about the end that makes it worthwhile; rather, it's the chance to do everything over again, and see the people you love once more. At least, that's how I see it.
Reviews are a welcome distraction from my helter-skelter life.
