It is in this one, odd, singular moment that everything changes. It is in this one second, this one feeling, that she loses her guard and pulls back her haughtiness. It is now that she breaks down, and finally gives in. She's tired of fighting. And, more importantly, she's tired of losing every battle she fights.
The way he handles her is so natural it's almost surreal. She never could have thought he would be this gentle. He's stupid, sure, and reckless and cocky. But not oblivious. Not incapable of emotion, either. In some strange, hidden part of him, concealed by those bitter retorts, he cares about her. And he knows that she's not who she appears to be.
They are alone. Something she normally wouldn't allow, not at any cost. But this is different. She is feeling the lies begin to unravel, and she knows she will have to tell the truth soon. She knows that this little game she's been playing, pretending to be "Little Miss Hero", is soon to end. And so she's going to do everything she can to hold on to these last, few, precious threads of time.
She collapses against him. His hands have already found the small of her back, and he half-carries her to the couch. He sits down, taking her gently into his lap. She ignores the fact that every part of her screams to stop. Stop this now, this very instant. Stop being a vulnerable, whiny little kid. That's what her father would tell her.
But Wally is not her father. And thank God for that.
He had saved her life earlier that evening. Grabbed her hand, pulled her away before she could have half her face blown off by a rather fierce gunman. Had thrown himself on top of her as the debris of the bomb rained down upon them.
He had looked at her with wide, green eyes, and had clutched her hand as the bullets sounded in the distance. She had suddenly realized that she truly, honestly didn't want to hurt this boy.
They had gone home. She had tried to forget it, tried to act like it had never happened. She had ignored him in the hallway, during the debriefing, and all throughout dinner. She had refused eye contact. She had narrowed her eyes at his careless teasing. She had gone to bed without a word.
And then, as she had been changing out of her costume and into a t-shirt and boxer shorts, she had seen the calendar. 20th of September.
Late. Too late. Getting steadily ever closer to the day when she would have to betray her friends.
So she had sat at the edge of her bed, with her head resting on her palms. She had debated. Visit him? Don't visit him. Do it. Don't. Come on, it's the least you can do. Come on, don't be an idiot.
In the end, she had gotten up and went to his room, intending merely to thank him and be on her way. But she neglected one simple fact: This was Wally. When it came to the speedster, things weren't exactly cut-and-dry.
Their conversation had been typical. Him teasing her. Her getting irritated. Her about to leave. Him stopping her. Her finally rolling her eyes and thanking him. He teasing…and then stopping, realizing she was being genuine. Her surprised. Him more surprised. The both of them uncomfortable.
Then he had invited her in. At first, she had declined. That was only natural to Artemis; going into a boy's room was a sure-fire way to get into some serious trouble. Not to mention she didn't want to give off the aura that she actually liked Wally. No, that would be awful.
But she had gone in eventually. And then they had talked. No silly, ridiculous, pointless jabs. No angry shouts or back-slaps. Just simple, teenage conversation.
Except that teenage conversation is, well…never truly simple.
That conversation, that strange midnight talk had led to this moment. A weird moment that had begun with a simple brushing of the hands. Then she had turned around, and their eyes had met in a dizzy rendezvous that was both unnerving and settling at the same time. He had watched her for a moment, his mouth set in a confused line, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. She had almost turned away.
Instead, she had kissed him.
And now that moment is coalescing into a series of moments, one after another, of some unknown and absolutely unheard of passion. The kiss transcends into something more, something she hasn't allowed herself to experience in a long time. A certain degree of caring.
She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls closer. He moves his left hand to her waist and his right to her face. He brushes a piece of hair away from her cheek as their lips meet again.
There is only one thought going through Artemis' head, as all of this happens like a hurricane in slow motion.
This is crazy. This is crazy. This is absolutely insane.
But she doesn't stop. Not for a second. And, as she loses concept of time, Artemis forgets her assassin father, her betraying assignment, her lies, her tricks, her guard.
For now, at least, "insane" is perfectly fine by her.
