Sorry for the long delay, I've been in Chicago. Any who, here is a special thanks to you, gentle viewers:
I love you Roza~ Thank you! I hope you read and enjoy this chapter too:)
Dark Goddess Of Shadows~ You are super welcome! Keep writing amazing reviews and I'll write an entire story about you! Well, I won't, but know that I truly love your reviews :))
Shadethedemon~ Thanks! You've reviewed every chapeter and it's made my day! Hope you like this one.
Pachowable~ I love them too! I don't know why, but I do. Thanks for you wonderful comment.
Taren Hawk~ I'm so glad your enjoying this! Thank you for reviewing:)
candi711~ Nope, she doesn't. Yet:) Thanks for such well thought reviews, and I LOVE your idea about someone giving Arty the 'talk' and I shall try to pop it in somehow. Enjoy!
Thank you to anyone not mentiond, I've reread every comment like a bajillion times and I apreciate them. Story time.
*Edited on 2/21/14*
The movie night is nice, and excruciatingly long. Wally and Robin had lost interest halfway through the second movie and scrambled off to their own devices. Kaldur fell asleep by the third movie and was shaken awake by Conner. He retreated to his room, and had remained silent for the rest of the night. When M'gann popped in the last of the movies, still filled with energetic glee, Robin returned, sitting dangerously close to me on the couch. Conner had bid goodnight to his girlfriend and wandered away, ignoring her protests. She didn't remain for the entire film.
As the credits begin rolling up the screen, I finally stand up and stretch out my tired muscles before walking into the kitchen. Robin shuts off the television and follows after me, sitting down on a stool. I rifle through the snack cabinet, but nothing looks appetizing.
"Eating out of boredom is not good for the soul." I slide my eyes over in his direction. He flashes me a large grin, before he pushes against the island and spins around in a circle on the stool. I roll my eyes at his childish antics as I slam the cabinet door shut. The stool stops spinning, and I hear his footsteps on the tiled floor. "You know, if you aren't tired…" his body is close to mine now, and I spin around to face him, "we could always figure out…" his arms slowly lift up, and I gulp, "something else to do."
Suddenly he is pressed against me. His hand brushes my hip, before it rests on the edge of the counter behind me. A shiver races down my body. My breath escapes from my mouth in heavy puffs, and he has to know what he is doing to me. His other hand grips my arm tightly as he inches closer. He has a callous on his palm, and it scrapes along my heated flesh as he strokes up my arm, causing my toes to curl in.
"Artemis?" He whispers it into my ear and his warm breath brushes against my neck. And he is so close. My shaky hand reaches out and clutches his sweatshirt. His hand, moving intoxicatingly slow, crawls down my outstretched arm before he is cupping my hand within his. He pulls at it until I release the material, and then his fingers interlock with my own.
"Robin," My voice is hoarse, but I take pride in the coherency I manage to speak with. He brings our interlocked fingers up to his mouth, and gently brushes his lips across the back of my hand. My eyes flutter shut, and my grip on him grows tight, my nails sinking into the flesh of his hand. He lets out a breathy chuckle that sweeps across the skin of my hand, before pressing his forehead against mine.
"You're burning up." I don't dare open my eyes. My head shifts slightly, and his sharp nose presses into the side of mine. I start to lick my lips, but stop halfway, remembering the mouth that has to be only mere centimeters from my own. He releases my hand, and I let it fall, absentmindedly clutching onto his bony hip. His fingers skitter across my bare neck and behind my ear, our foreheads still pressed firmly together.
"Artemis." And like that the moment breaks, clarity washing over me. I pull away from Robin, snapping my head towards the clone in the doorway of the kitchen. His blue eyes travel between me, with cheeks lit on fire, and Robin, panting slightly with his gaze still locked onto the counter. "C'mon. Mission," he nods his head down the hall leading to the hub, before walking away.
I stand still for a moment, catching my breath. Robin faces the tiled floor, unnervingly quiet. I clear my throat, and he looks up at me. "I should…" and I vaguely point after Superboy. He only nods his head and I am shuffling out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word.
"So. You and Robin, huh?" I glance across the vast shipping yard to where the clone sits on a tall stack of crates. My eyes narrow at his bulky silhouette. We were out here scouting again because the League had been alerted of three new complaints made from neighboring businesses.
"Mmm, there is no me and Robin." I pick out a bit of dirt from beneath a finger nail, before continuing slowly. "He just… we-"
"It's complicated?" He asks. I shake my head, not quite sure if he is looking over at me. I slump my back against the metal bars at the top of the crane, swinging my binoculars back and forth over the side.
"I'm not sure 'complicated' begins to cover it."
"Artemis," he sighs, before continuing, "he isn't-" and then he abruptly falls silent, and all I can make out is his steady breathing.
"Superboy?" I lean forward, raising my binoculars up and looking down toward the clone. He has walked across the crate and is peering around the large crane I'm perched on.
"Shhhh." Before I can ask him what he hears, he is springing away from the stack of crates and landing on the staircase of the crane. The large piece of machinery rattles a bit from the impact, but he grasps the railing in his hand and it stills before he begins climbing up to the top. He brushes past me at the top of the ladder and hops up on the control booth, stopping momentarily to pull me up, before walking to the very edge and looking out across the yard.
"What is it?" I whisper to him, glancing around the vast shipping yard. He leans down to my eyelevel before grabbing my chin and turning my head to face a slight glow in the distance. As I look at it, I realize the light is coming closer. It stops, a few yards away from us, but I can make out the forms of three men. Two appear to be wearing engineer uniforms from the shipping yard, the other stands in a dark suit holding up a flash light.
One of the workers starts pulling off the locks on a crate door, while the other two talk in hushed whispers that I cannot make out. When he gets the door opened, the man in the suit shines the light inside the crate and out of our sight. They continue chattering to each other, presumably about the contents of the crate.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" I ask Superboy, glancing over to him. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. He doesn't look away from the men in front of us, but nods his head at my question. I look at him for a moment longer, before turning my attention back to the men just as one of the workers slams the metal door of the crate shut. His back is to the other men as he begins locking the various bolts on the door. The man in the suit holds the flashlight up as he works. A beam of light bounces off of the crate and illuminates the piece of metal that suddenly appears in the other workers hand. Before it even registers in my mind, an echoingpop reverberates through the shipping yard, and the man locking the door slumps to the floor in a bloody hump.
I gasp loudly, and Superboy's strong arm wraps around me, pulling me into his chest. My eyes refuse to close, and I grasp at the fabric of his shirt. A maniacal laughter rings out from down below, and I look over Superboy's arm and see the man in the suit jumping around in what could only be described as glee. The flashlight clutched in his hand shines on his face, and I see that he has clown makeup smeared across it.
Superboy is breathing deeply. A giant, brute of a man appears from seemingly nowhere, wearing nothing more than a pair of cargo pants and gripping a wicked hammer in his meaty hand. The worker, the one still firmly holding the gun and splattered in blood, points to the carcass while talking to the large man. He walks up to the crate and leans the hammer against it before pulling up a limp leg and dragging the body off into the darkness. His face is also painted.
I feel bile rise up my throat, but I swallow it down before tugging out of Superboy's hold and jumping off of the control booth. The crane creaks slightly from my movements, but I ignore it and perch myself at the edge of the large machine. The ground below looks so far away, and I stare down at it, images of splattered brain against metal swimming around in my head. After what feels like hours, I hear the metal rattle behind me before Superboy pulls me up and leaps off of the crane.
"-there was never any mention of who they were working for. They'll be meeting again in a week at the piers." Superboy wraps up our report with Batman over the commlink as I stand behind him, silently. Batman's expression is unreadable, and I stare off to the side of the room, wishing I could crawl into bed and forget the last couple of hours. Hell, forget the last couple of months.
When we arrived at the mountain, we were greeted by Red Tornado who had taken note of my distressed form and had immediately flown off, paging the dark knight as he went. Robin and M'gann had been sitting awake in the kitchen, awaiting our return over steaming cups of coffee. When red Tornado returned and announced the meeting taking place with Batman in the communications room, they had followed in our tracks and watched the entire encounter from the sidelines.
"Okay. This matter will be made urgent. I want the team–the entire team–on the field for the next trade. We'll go over the details in person, but in the meantime, get some sleep. All of you." With that he shuts off the call, and the picture flickers out. I stare at the black screen, only looking away momentarily when Conner squeezes my shoulder on his way out, M'gann following closely behind him.
When I hear the distinct sound of Tornado's metal legs clinking out of the room, I let myself go. I fall into a heap on the ground, covering my tired eyes with my grimy palms. My breath comes out in long shudders, and I fight to keep the tears rimming my eyes from slipping out. I hear heavy footfalls, and I look up from my hands to see Robin slowly approaching me. I had thought he left; he was so quiet. He crouches down in front of me, and I can't meet the eyes that I know are looking at me through his dark glasses.
"Artemis," he whispers softly, "look at me." He gently grabs my chin and turns my head up to him. "I know how hard it is to see something like that. Trust me. But you need to be strong," and he sounds so sure, almost like he's rehearsed this moment in front of a mirror, "for the team." He doesn't need to add for me. The unspoken words are there in the soft tone of his voice and the way his hand gently cups my cheek.
"I don't think I can." I murmur, locking my eyes on the bulge of his Adam's apple. It bobs against the thin skin of his neck as he speaks.
"Of course you can. You're one of the strongest people I know." I look up at his face and he gives me a warm smile, an almost foreign expression for him. A tear trickles out of the corner of my eye, and before he can comment, I throw my arms around his shoulder a bit too roughly, and he falls under my weight with his back pressed firmly to the floor. His hands settle on my hips, and I push up from the floor to look down at him. His face is serious, but a wolfish grin breaks across it and we both laugh. I roll off of him and he sits up.
"Sorry about that." I wipe at my eyes, and look at the boy to my right. He sits solemnly on the floor, scratching the back of his neck.
"Are you okay, Artemis?" He asks with a controlled voice. Any humor still etched on my face disappears.
"Robin I-"
"Don't." He cuts me off. "Don't say you're fine, Artemis. I can see you aren't."
"Of course I'm not fine!" My jaw clenches with irritation as a hot tear rolls down my face. "How can I befine when I have to go to come home to an empty house every day?" I grind out between my teeth. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to calm my shaking body. "There was so much blood." I finally croak out.
His arms are around me then, and I lean my back against his firm chest as he grips onto my arms, still encircling my stomach. He presses a hard kiss against the top of my head, and a tremor rakes through me. He rocks us back and forth slowly as the tears dry against my cheeks.
We sit there, on the floor of the communications room, for a long time, with Robin's long arms cradling me. When I yawn, he shifts a bit, nuzzling against my ear and running his fingers against my bare arm. I shiver from his feather-light touch.
"I've been thinking of replacing the red on my suit with blue." He whispers in my ear randomly, and my eyes flutter closed as I chuckle softly. "You need to get some sleep." His soft lip brushes against the shell of my ear, and I let out a small whimper.
"Yessir" I slur out as he rises from the ground, pulling me up with him. We amble slowly down the hall before stopping outside my room. I fumble with the door before he nudges me aside and opens it himself. "Thank you." I say it with more emotion than is needed for thanking such a simple gesture, and he simply pinches my elbow in response before gliding down the hall to his own room. I look down at my stomach, expecting to see butterflies brushing their wings against it. There isn't any.
"You seem distracted," Dick comments, taking a gulp from his glass of soda.
"Hmm?" I'm staring past his shoulder at the passing traffic in the streets. His fingers wave in the line of my vision and I focus back onto him. The bright afternoon sun reflects in his blue eyes and they seem to glow. "Just thinking," I mumble out lamely. I set the spoon gripped between my fingers into the half-eaten bowl of soup in front of me.
"'Bout what?" He asks around a mouthful of crushed ice. I shrug my shoulders. The waitress walks to our table holding a pitcher of ice water and pours some into my half-empty cup. I mumble thanks to her, and she smiles in return as she repeats the action to the next table over.
"Nothing important." He doesn't look convinced, but he continues his rant about the exciting new gadget Bruce had gotten for him anyway, and I slump down in my seat, nodding along with his enthusiastic story as my mind drifts miles away. The waitress slips a checkbook by Dick's plate as she passes by. He is too emerged in his story to notice.
The sidewalk is cracked outside of the large, 20-story apartment building. The doorman, clad in a stiff red jacket holds the door for me with a sneer spread across his face. His welcome is short and cold.
"Nice epaulettes." I mutter under my breath as I walk by. His puffy face turns red, and I chuckle quietly as I approach the golden elevator. Oliver never did like me coming here alone.
I press the button on the side of the machine, calling the elevator down to the lobby. A group of older women wearing outlandish furs and clunky jewelry jumble down from the large staircase behind me, and meander across the lobby and out the front door. The elevator arrives with a shrillding. I saunter in and tap the close door button repeatedly until the doors shut with the same irritatingsound. I pull out my elevator key – the one Oliver had given me after the accident – and I slip it into the corresponding slot and the elevator lurches up, taking me to the top floor of the building.
I inhale deeply as the elevator opens into the formal entryway to Oliver's penthouse. I walk in and tug my boots off, setting them by a useless chair sitting by the door.
"Anyone home?" I call out.
"Ollie?" A soft, but slightly raspy voice calls back. I stop in my tracks, shock spreading across my face as Black Canary pushes through the swinging kitchen door wearing a small pair of spandex shorts and a lose button down shirt. "Oh, Artemis. I wasn't expecting you." Her voice has returned to its normal tone, and she crosses her arms, standing up a little straighter. The shirt spreads tighter across her stomach, revealing the slight bump of her expanding stomach.
"Um sorry, I thought Oliver was going to be here," I pause trying to find my words, "I uh, I didn't really want to be alone right now." I feel my shoulders fall, and I curse my exhausted body for showing weakness.
"Well come on in." She gives me a warm smile and nods to the couch. Her curly hair is tied up into a tangled bun. It's frizzy, and I assume she hasn't showered today. I walk around the couch, standing in front of it, but I hesitate to sit down. "I was just making some lunch, you hungry?"
"No. I just ate." I mumble. Her eyes glance from me, to the couch, then back to me and she gives a slight quirk of her eyebrow. I quickly perch down on the edge of the couch, sitting much too stiff to look comfortable. She smiles again then nods her head, before backing up to the kitchen door.
"Alright," but before she pushes through the door, she adds as an almost afterthought, "Nice seeing you again, Artemis."
"Yeah you too…" I trail off as the door swings shut on my words. I slowly trail my eyes around the apartment with a grimace. The usually warm home I was used to felt strange. Large stacks of paper and folders were piled around the room, blankets and pillows were thrown about haphazardly, and a water ring stained the glass coffee table. I guess she was officially moving in.
I've never been fond of Black Canary. She is unbelievably kind to everyone, but it's always seems forced to me. Green Arrow isn't my dad–hell, he isn't even my uncle–but he cares about me as if he were, and I'm not sure what I would do if I didn't have him. Maybe it's just jealousy on my part. Maybe I'm just worried that with his new baby and his new serious relationship, he's going to forget about me somewhere along the way, and instead of being rational about things, I take it out on Dinah.
Seeing her living here, with him, just tops it off. Oliver had told me, sometime between trips to the hospital, that his home was always open to me. With Dinah's work scattered around the place–not to mention her surprising lack of cleanliness–that invitation doesn't sound as pleasing now.
I push myself up from the couch and start pacing around, careful to avoid the clutter of paper on the floor by the coffee table. The piano, that I'm positive Oliver bought purely for decoration, is stacked with various picture frames. Most of them now hold pictures of him and Dinah, but one catches my eye and I smile as I slowly reach out and pick it up. It's a simple frame, but the picture inside is of me and mom. It was taken at Christmas, if I remember correctly, only two months before the accident. Moisture collects in my eyes as I look at her bright, beautiful face.
"That picture came out nice, didn't it?" I jump, almost dropping the frame before I turn around. Oliver stands behind me, shrugging off his coat and looking at the picture in my hands. I set it back in its place before walking up to him slowly and wrapping my arms around his solid form. He returns the gesture, chuckling softly, and I feel it vibrate through his chest.
"I miss her." I mumble into his shoulder. He pats my back, before he starts swaying.
"I know." He says soothingly.
"Ollie." His head snaps over to the kitchen door and a huge grin spreads across his face. I look over and see Dinah holding a tray with small finger sandwiches piled on it. "How was work?" She asks quirking up a brow and smiling wide.
"Oh, you know. Great." He says as he squeezes me hard before letting me go and walking aver to his girlfriend. He picks up a sandwich and pops the entire thing his mouth. Dinah chuckles at him and swipes her thumb across his bottom lip before leaning up and kissing him. I turn away from the pair and find my gaze return to the picture. It's only been three months since I last saw my mother's eyes, but it may as well have been years.
A little info on what's really going on with Artemis. Kudos to anyone who knows exactly where I got the one armed clown guy from.
~Just Look Up
