Title: Solacium
Characters/Pairing: Artemis, Kaldur, Spitfire
A/N: Takes place after the series. I need to write a Supermartian at some point.
Summary: It gets easier, he promises. It is a pain they both share.
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She's punching the bag again, quick strikes in a tat-tat-tat pattern. Kaldur pushes the door open softly, entering the room with barely a sound.
Each strike hits the bag harder, the impact echoing in the room. Leaning against a wall, he watches Artemis train. There's no finesse in her movements, none of the skill she normally displays. Just raw power.
Just raw pain.
She stops ten minutes later, breathing heavily. Wiping the sweat off her face, Artemis looks at him before starting again.
"Does it go away?"
Kaldur thinks of the ocean, of the cool blue waters and Tula's bright smile. Her statue has been rebuilt in their new headquarters but he hasn't visited it yet. Closing his eyes, he grimaces. "No, not really."
"I didn't think so."
"Artemis, it does get easier. You remember how I was at first." She doesn't stop punching, but she slows down. He has her attention now. She's listening. "It doesn't go away. It just gets easier to bear."
"I thought it would be the same." She finally speaks after five minutes, her punches come faster and faster.
Kaldur approaches her as he listens, his steps muted by the sound of her fury. "The same?" He comes to standstill next to her, close enough to feel the force of her movements.
"When Chesi—Jade and Dad left the house. I thought it would be the same. The same pain. It's not."
She's just punching blindly now, not even hitting the bag half the time. Coming closer, he waits until she stops for a breath before wrapping an arm around her. Artemis stiffens in his arms before relaxing. Looking up at him, she continues, "It's just so hard sometimes."
"I know." She presses her face against his chest, her hands curling in the fabric of his shirt. Kaldur can't hear crying, his shirt remaining oddly dry. There's just the sound of rapid breathing and a low moan, like she's trying to empty herself. As though Artemis was going to remove all traces of pain and love and leave nothing behind.
"He's not coming back."
"I know." His hand rubs her back in slow, circular motions.
He doesn't have to close his eyes to hear the roar of crashing waves, a piercing scream that never quite leaves.
"It gets easier."
(Tula smiles in his memories.)
And even then, not always.