The skies are clear, the breeze is gentle. The moon hangs above them. It's a peaceful night. Or, it would be, if not for this launch and all that revolved around it. That's where they're out here tonight.
If Dick's being honest, "peckish" doesn't even begin to describe his desire to get out of the cave. He's missed this. He's missed being out in the field—feeling the wind tease his hair, the suspense of waiting, senses so sharp and so alert it feels like his entire body is coiled to spring.
But even more than that, he's missed her.
If he's being honest with himself, being out on a mission lost some of the appeal when she and Wally left. The both of them made the missions fun—gave him somebody to snark with and quip with and generally gave him a reason to enjoy time spent on the team.
And with Artemis gone, that left him as the only non-meta—the only true human. And no one else on the team understood the meaning of that as much as she did. It wasn't something Dick thought he would miss, but as with many things, it wasn't until he lost it that he realized that.
So being here, on this tower, with her only a few feet away, something in his heart lifts.
"I know I'm not Wally's favorite person right now," he begins, "but it is nice to have you back."
"It's nice to be back," she responds, smiling. She goes to pull out her bow as she continues: "I didn't realize how much I'd been missing it. Which is pretty much exactly what Wally's afraid of." She unfolds her weapon, and judging by the wan her hands ghost over each inch—tenderly, carefully, as though she's familiarizing herself with it for the first time—it's clear every word she says is true.
She lifts her bow, notching and drawing back an arrow as she does, and he can't help but marvel at how natural all of this is for her. How right it is for her to be out here, all wild blond hair and steely resolve to get the job done.
For only a moment, he feels a flash of anger race through him at Wally's insistence he and Artemis leave the superhero life. She belongs out here. Anything else is a disservice to her, and to the people they serve.
So involved in his own thoughts, he almost misses her next words.
"He's worried the rush that comes with the mask will get its hooks in," she says, "and I won't give it up until my dying day."
It's then he realizes, again, that no one will understand that drive like she does. That is always something they shared, something they held close and precious. Unspoken, yes, but always present, always a reassurance against loneliness.
After she left, he'd forgotten what that feels like. This moment, this reminder, so clear and so deceptively simple—it threatens to leave him breathless.
"I know exactly what you mean," he responds, allowing only a small smile.
He wishes this moment could stretch on through the night and into the next day, and then further still.
But they have a job to do, a mission to complete. An objective to achieve—one that stirs a deep concern within him, settling in his stomach like a lead weight.
Thinking of what's to come that night, Dick feels an ache form in his chest.
because this episode broke my RobArt-shipping heart.
no, this isn't being continued. I'll probably have more Depths-related fic up within the next few days, though.