Too Quickly
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Paula Crock wheeled herself quietly towards her daughter's room. She paused at the doorway before she entered, making sure that Artemis really was asleep. When she was satisfied, Paula rolled over to her sleeping child, who was curled up underneath her covers, and gently tugged the hair elastic out of her golden hair. Paula sighed as she looked over her daughter. She reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair away from her face and tucked it behind the young archer's ear. It was then that Paula noticed the small white scar right above her daughter's ear.
"Oh, Artemis," Paula said sadly, placing the hair tie on the night stand and wheeling out of the room. As she entered the hallway, one of the few pictures that was hung on the wall caught her eye. It was the only picture of Artemis that had her smiling. Paula smiled as she looked at the happy glint in the steel grey eyes of her child. That glint wasn't there anymore. Not often, anyway.
All too often, Artemis' eyes were as hard as a drill sergeant's. She was focused and determined. She didn't speak of her missions that often, but when she did, there was an experience behind her words, behind her eyes. The way Artemis spoke about her missions reminded her a bit of what life was like back when she had the use of her legs. Exhilarating, but painful to relive. Paula mentally shook herself. No. What Artemis was doing was nothing like what she had done all those years ago. But there were some similarities.
Artemis's eyes would sometimes harden when asked how a mission went, and Paula would always know that something had happened. She didn't know what, who, or even the circumstances. But she knew that her youngest child had seen something, experienced something that most people couldn't ever dream about. She knew that her daughter was taking part in an activity that was adding years to her life every day. The things she was doing at the age of fifteen was mind boggling. She'd helped save the world, a few lives, a few dreams.
At that thought, Paula felt herself swell with pride. It was her daughter that was doing those things. Only one other person on the Team didn't have any powers, and he was the Dark Knight's protégé. Artemis hadn't ever had that kind of training. She'd been trained to kill, and she'd managed to find a way to rise above that and use her abilities to help countless others. And her training had stopped several years ago. Artemis hadn't had anyone but herself to be held accountable before Green Arrow took her on as his own protégé. Her daughter had done those things. She was always proud of the work Artemis had done.
But it all came at a price.
Artemis had never been able to experience a true family Thanksgiving. She'd never been given the chance to have a birthday party. She'd only celebrated Christmas a handful of times. She'd never really been showered with love and affection the way normal children were. She'd been trained from what had felt like day one. Artemis had held up well, in hindsight. It hadn't mattered at the time, but Paula regretted every day that she hadn't gone straight sooner for her girls. They'd learned how to leave a full grown man unconscious while other children learned how to do long division. They'd learned how to use a vast arsenal of weaponry before they knew how to drive. They had been trained to do the things horror movies couldn't dream about recreating.
Paula glanced over her shoulder at the dark room of her sleeping daughter. Artemis had given up so much. What she was doing was what many children dreamed of doing, but no one could really understand the toll it took on the people who had decided to take up the mantle.
Sometimes Paula felt like Artemis had learned from experience how difficult the world was at too young of an age. Her daughter had needed to grow up too quickly.
YJ YJ YJ
Bruce Wayne sat at his office desk in his Gotham City mansion. The old grandfather clock ticking softly on the far wall. The multi-billionaire was reading through his adopted son's report card. Exceptional grades, with a brief note from the English teacher, who expressed her desire that Dick stop slaughtering the language she taught. Rolling his eyes, he flipped the sheet over. To his surprise, there was a sticky note attached, reading, "The A minus is from the day Master Dick was kidnapped by the Joker. This particular incident was the one that lasted several days. He failed a test and quiz, but did an extra credit assignment to make up for it. –Alfred"
Bruce furrowed his brow as he though back to what Alfred's note had been referring to. Ah yes. A few months ago. Robin had been unconscious for a large majority of the time, and the homicidal clown had been moving his base of operations every few hours. It had taken three days to find the two. Dick had needed to go into emergency care due to the torture the Joker had inflicted upon the young acrobat. He'd been gone from school for an entire week, under the alias that he'd gone with Bruce to the Swiss Alps to ski. Bruce continued to think back to the time, but he couldn't ever recall Dick saying anything about having trouble with any of his studies. But then, Dick was never one to tell of his struggles. He bore his injuries, and his problems with silence. Despite his carefree and mischievous attitude, he was slow to admit that he needed help or that he was struggling. It had taken him a near failed mission to finally admit that he was not the right person to lead the Team.
Considering the line of work both Dick and Bruce were in, he could understand where the boy was coming from. But that didn't make this trait any less dangerous. Robin could get seriously hurt if he refused to admit he needed help. He would have to talk with the young acrobat. Bruce sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
Dick was a good kid. Not many could handle living a duo life on a quarter of the sleep most people got. And have such a positive outlook.
There were sometimes when Bruce felt guilty for letting his ward pursue the life he was. Dick's parents had been murdered, and he had needed to make sure that the man responsible was brought to justice. But that did not mean that the boy needed to don a Kevlar woven suit and mask every night and leap across rooftops, bagging crooks at the speed it took an average person to bag groceries. But Bruce knew that he had needed to step in. He'd taken the boy in so that Dick wouldn't grow to become what Bruce had turned into when he had lost his own parents in Crime Alley all those years ago. Bruce may have doubted his decision a few times when the two of them were first getting comfortable with one another, but not since Batman had finally accepted Robin as his protégé. Robin had saved his hide more times than Bruce cared to count. Together, the Dynamic Duo was a well-oiled machine that was a true force to be reckoned with. Even though he was barely out of boy-hood, he had gone up against people far stronger than he, and had come out on top.
But Dick was just a boy. He was barely adolescent. Sometimes Batman forgot that. When someone's been kidnaped, beaten, starved, and tortured, it was hard to look at them the same when they looked at you in the eye, wiped the blood off, and told you that they would be right behind you. Sometimes one had to be reminded that their partner in taking down serial killers with nothing but a few pieces of sharpened metal and their wits to make it work was someone who had yet to earn their driver's license. It was hard.
Dick's eyes had seen the worst that Lady Gotham could dish out. So much was riding on his shoulders. So much knowledge, so many memories, too many horrors.
Bruce Wayne clasped his hands together, and brought them up to his face, thinking. He knew that Robin wanted this life, that Dick wanted this life. But he couldn't help but feel that as a father, he needed to remember that he had sacrificed so much to make it all work. If not his childhood, than his future.
Sometimes Bruce felt like Dick had grown up too quickly.
Hmmm . . . I don't know about this one. I wanted to show how Dick and Artemis were similar, not only because they don't have super powers, but because they had to grow up really quickly in order to deal with what it was they had to go through early in their lives.
That being said, I WROTE FROM BATMAN'S POINT OF VIEW! And it was TOUGH. That's the part I'm the most unsure about. I mean, how does one manage to get inside the Dark Knight's head? No one can! He's Batman for Batman's sake!
Ugh. I have 2 quizzes to study for. And 15 minutes before I'm supposed to hit the sack. And a huge pile of homework. What to do . . . At least I got this finished. I have a list of all my prompts, and "Robin and Artemis: Growing up too quickly" was on there. And this was born.
Well, thanks for reading. If you liked, have a problem with, or think I should do something differently with what is above, please let me know in that lovely box below.
Stay asterous,
-Alex
