AN: Thanks for all your kind reviews! So many of them made me smile. Not to pump you guys up too much but the next chapter has a lot of my absolute favorite passages. Can't wait to hear what you all think.

It's been a few minutes since he said it and the back of his neck is still bright red; his ears practically glowing in the dark of the night sky. She gets a little lost staring at his blush and analyzing its implications and before she knows it she's flying the Bioship a little more recklessly than she should be.

"You are a real archer. And you don't have anything to prove… Not to me."

She can't stop the words from repeating inside her head, each syllable sending another coil of pleasure through her stomach. His jaw had been tight, his chin dropped slightly as he surveyed her through sheepish eyes, and even though it's never occurred to her before she's suddenly thinking that the Bioship seats are keeping them too far apart.

Through all her grief and all her madness she can see him, standing on the other side waiting. She just needs to jump the last hurdle, fire the final arrow, and she'll be there...

"We're in range." Her voice catches slightly as she says it, the odd note of wanting suddenly clear and plain in front of both of them. She can see his ears going off again, his excited muscles stretching the material of his leather jacket tight across his shoulders as she lowers the Bioship to the ground.

She lands a little clumsily, jostling them slightly before they settle onto the earth. Wally's on his feet and stretching again before she can so much as unbuckle her seat belt, trying to limber up before the mission. "This is gonna be so weird." He chuckles easily, as if trying to dissect some of the tension lingering in the air. "Not running, I mean."

She gets to her feet and walks towards him as he grabs his helmet off the floor, slinging it easily under his arm. "Yeah, well." She shrugs, crossing her arms across her chest. "If everything goes according to plan you shouldn't need to. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it's weird for you all night." As she says it her cheeks go slightly pink, as if they know she's just tried to sneakily wish him luck without being too obvious. Wally seems to assume as much too, his ears still neon in the dim light.

His blush is driving her crazy; it's just another layer of feverish skin that would be hot and sticky against hers and... Fuck.

Get your head on straight. Focus.

No matter how adamant she is about convincing herself otherwise she wants desperately to touch him, her fingers itching to grab him and do something completely irrational—she knows it's a simple tracking mission, knows that it's purely non-confrontational and that, if he's lucky, he'll have no contact with Sportsmaster. No contact with her father. Logically, she knows he's not in danger. It doesn't stop the lick of fear tickling her insides.

She clenches and unclenches her fingers before she decides to act on the impulse; reaching out she grabs his zipper, beginning to fiddle with it under the guise of adjusting its height. Wally's brows raise as her fingers brush his chest, the last bit of closeness she knows they'll have for a while, the sound of the metal teeth crunching together ringing in the silence as she zips it up to his jaw. She decides to let her hands linger on his collar.

"Hey." He says quietly, forcing her to look at him through her lashes. "Don't worry, okay?"

Her hands clench slightly on his collar. "I'm not worried." She says lamely.

He takes a tiny step closer, his free hand reaching out to touch her ever so slightly against her waist. The feeling of his hands on her, even if they are cloaked in gloves, is nearly electric—she can feel the vibrations of his fingers as they skim against her exposed flesh, sending a warmth directly between her legs. Almost against her will she makes a small noise in the back of her throat.

She knows she shouldn't do this—it's only going to make things more complicated—but she can't help it: she wants Wally. She can feel his fingers tightening on her back, can feel his thumb pressing against her ribs, his grip growing surer. His jaw is tight, his eyes flickering back and forth between hers, trying to find the permission he needs that's hidden in the blush on both their cheeks.

She wants him to kiss her because she'll never be brave enough to. She'll never be able to push all her guilt and grief aside and allow herself the one simple pleasure of kissing him, not when it's so easy to dismiss herself as too-dirty or too-evil to touch him. She needs him closer, needs him to understand, needs him to take the lead, to run ahead like he did in Bialya and just grab her hand, pick her up, take her places she hasn't seen...

He shifts himself closer, his eyes now focusing on her lips. Her tongue has just licked out and moistened them, her eyelids just beginning to droop.

Just a bit closer...

Please...

Wally's just ducked his head ever so slightly when Red Arrow's voice is screeching in her ear. "Kid Flash, are you in position?"

Wally noticeably winces; as usual he has the volume on his communicator up too high, the static squeaking in his ear. At once his hand is off her waist, his finger pressing against a button she can't see but knows is there. "Almost. Give me a minute."

"A minute?" Roy's voice is harsh, crackling between them. Wally cuts the incoming outburst off with another press of a button, forcing radio silence.

She's beginning to get embarrassed; they look slightly ridiculous, standing so close together now that the moment has been broken. She releases his collar a little roughly, avoiding his eye and the wrinkles she's left around his throat. "Guess that's your cue." She says to her feet.

Wally doesn't notice or acknowledge her embarrassment at his closeness; instead, he reaches for her hand, gripping her fingers so tightly in his she can feel the warmth seeping from his gloves. "Yeah." She watches his feet shift so his toes are practically touching hers; when she glances up she can feel the heat from his chest warming the little space between them.

"Can we just—" He cuts himself off, grinning a little sheepishly at her when his voice breaks. "Can we just postpone whatever that was? For a little bit? Because I kind of liked where it was going…"

His voice is still a little ragged, his cheeks flushed with excitement. She wants to laugh at his eagerness, and barely settles for squeezing his hand. "Fine. Go get 'em, Baywatch."

She gets up to impatiently look out the window the Bioship again, still waiting. She hates staying out of the action, hates keeping out of harm's way—she's never been one for playing the damsel in distress.

She looks for any sign of Wally in the trees, her thoughts still on the private moment they had shared together just an hour before. She wonders what would have happened if Red Arrow hadn't interrupted; wonders what will happen in the quiet hours after the mission when they're alone. She wonders what his mouth will taste like when it's on hers.

She pulls her eyes into focus, caught on a movement in the trees. She squints, her heart speeding up before she can figure out why.

She has enough time to see the glint of the Cheshire Cat's face, the familiar tangle of wild black hair. She feels a sudden burst of joy, the kind of raw happiness she hasn't felt in a while, before her stomach is suddenly flooded with a ragged and painful fear; suddenly she doesn't have time to think, and before she can measure the consequences she's running, her bow in hand.

Jade has found her way back.

She knocks.

And knocks, and knocks, and knocks some more. Bruised knuckles, three times against his door, and the silence that follows not loud enough to drown out the sound of the sai he had dropped at her feet. "Wally." She says in a hushed tone, trying not to wake anyone. She's taps again, the movement sending the cup of tea she's holding jostling slightly, some of the warm liquid spilling over her fingers. "Wally, can we just talk? Please?"

She knows the others are listening, waiting to hear the judgement Wally will pass on her. She also knows that they're all just as angry as he is, knows that nobody will come knocking at her door to provide comfort tonight.

She had lost it. Lost it when she saw Jade, alive and looking like she had never met their mother; lost it when there was an opportunity to follow her. She couldn't help it, she needed to see her sister, they just don't understand—

And whose fault is that?

Selfish.

She scrunches her eyes together, knocking again. "Wally." She can hear him moving inside his room. "Wally, Please?"

The door slides open a crack, just big enough for her to see his face; he's glaring at her, his hair still mused and his brows knitted together. Like her he's still in his suit, his cowl pulled back and scrunched at the back of his neck. "What do you want?"

His voice is so hard and malicious that she actually winces, feeling as if he may as well have slapped her clean across the cheek. She holds up the tea. "I made you tea."

"I don't want it." He moves the shut the door but for once she's fast enough, wedging her foot in between the door and the wall, her eyes watering with pain as he slams the edge into her foot.

"Please?" She says quietly, holding it out to him. "Can I just come in?"

Please. Please. He needs to let her in like he did before...

...He can't shut her out. She doesn't have anyone else...

She's begging now, her eyes wide and pleading, her attempt at a smile faltering slightly in face of the glare he sends her, contemptuously glancing down at the cup in her hands. He sniffs, still looking annoyed at her for even existing. Then he moves aside.

She's not even all the way inside his room when he shuts the door, the bottom edge catching on her boot heel and making her nearly yelp in pain. She gets as far as just past the door frame when he steps in front of her, blocking her from going forward and almost pinning her against the wall, as if he's worried about her tarnishing his bedroom with her presence.

She tries to smile at him again, still searching for any of the warmth she once found in his eyes; he just glares back, unreadable. "Tea?" She offers him the cup again.

He takes it, slugging it back so quickly that two streams leak from the corners of his mouth, dripping off his chin and onto the lightning bolt on his chest. Before she can blink in surprise he's finished, pushing the cup back in her hands. "Thank you. Goodbye." He says coldly, already reaching around her to let her out.

"Wally!" She grabs his hand as it flies by her hip, gripping his wrist tightly in her fist. "Can we just—let's just talk okay?"

He twists his wrist roughly in her hand, trying to escape and not being gentle about it. She winces slightly as he pulls a muscle in her forearm; she can hear his teeth grinding against each other, and when he speaks it sounds as if he's struggling not to yell in her face. "I don't have anything to say to you."

She pins his wrist against the doorframe, his bone hitting an edge that makes him hiss under his breath. Before he can free himself she drops the mug between them and grabs his other hand, pinning it to the other side of the door frame; for the first time in a long time she seriously considers beating him into submission, her knee itching to just up and hit him in the gut if that will shock him into being less dramatic.

Instead they both glare at each other, breathing a little heavily; they're just as close as they were on the Bioship, although this time what's passing between them isn't affection. She can feel her breath pouring out of her chest, her breasts heaving up and down and brushing against the taught muscles hidden beneath his uniform. The cup is rolling between their feet, knocking against both their toes. "Clearly," She begins, and he blinks as she breathes hot air into his face. "You do have something to say to me. So spit it out."

Wally presses forward slightly, sending her back flat against the door; she can feel one of his thighs brushing against hers. "Spit it out?" He repeats, and she can tell she's pushed a bit too far; his hands are suddenly twisting more ferociously in hers. "Alright, I'll spit it out. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He's so loud that she's sure the rest of the Team can hear; he's full out bellowing in her face. "You broke about every rule we have tonight, Artemis. You put everyone in danger, you—you sacrificed everyone's safety for the sake of a little glory. Do you realize how selfish that it? Do you think what we do is some sort of game?"

He's gotten his hands free, and suddenly he's taken a few steps back from her, turning away from her and running his hands through his hair. Her back is still pressed against the door, and suddenly she's too scared to move. When he speaks again, it's in a low and dangerous tone. "I just—I thought I knew you. And I thought we could trust each other, you know? And it's like the longer things go on, the more I realize that... I can't."

No.

Wally, No.

Please...

She can feel her knees shaking. "It's not like that Wally." She says as quickly as she can, her voice wavering. "You can trust me."

He whirls around on her, his hands grabbing at his hair. "I trusted you not to put us in danger tonight, Artemis. And you did." He stops talking to watch her lips shake, his brows pursing as tears spill over the corners of her eyes. Suddenly he can't look at her, instead furiously addressing the ground. "Maybe Roy was right about you."

It's worse, so much worse, hearing him say the words she's always thought about herself... She can't be trusted can she? She'll always be the weak link. She'll never be good enough, never be worthy of him. It's soul crushing, heart stopping, as if every vein in her body is frozen and the only thing she can feel is tears gushing over the fabric of her mask...

She has one wild impulse left, only one saving grace; she's seen her father do it before during particularly bad fights with her mother, has seen Jade use it to stop furious men in their tracks. She senses she doesn't have much to lose anymore, so when the thought occurs to her she lets it take over her whole being.

She rushes forward while his gaze is dropped, bracing her hands against his jaw. She has enough time to register the widening of his eyes before she presses her lips against his.

Wally makes a little noise of surprise under her, stumbling slightly to catch her weight. He makes the noise again as she tilts his jaw downward to better fit her lips against his, one hand tangling through the mess of his crumpled mask and into his hair. It's wild and desperate and without thinking she pours every bit of herself into it, as if the best parts of her will blossom from her lips and trickle down his throat and remind him that she's not all bad. He tastes like how she imagined: like the walnut smell that's always in the air around him, the lingering sweetness from the tea still on his lips as she runs her tongue over them, forcing his mouth to open under hers. He lets out a ragged breath into her mouth that seems to warm the deepest part of her.

She's kissed boys before, let them press her up against walls and come onto them in the shadowy corners of parties, but she's never kissed a boy like how she's kissed Wally; she's pressing her whole body into him, trying to force him closer, and trying to explain things to him with her body that she could never explain with words. She sucks his lower lip into her mouth and the surprised noise he's been making switches to something low and guttural in the back of his throat; suddenly he dips his head to press against her more surely, his hands reaching out to grip her waist so savagely that she's sure she'll have bruises and Oh God, she's wanted this for so long.

He's a bit of a clumsy kisser, his tongue darting out at odd moments and his teeth bumping hers. His hands are pulling her so close that she's nearly flush against his body, and once he finally steadies himself from her sudden weight he's rocked her back a few paces, pressing her against the edge of something, a shelf or a desk, she supposes. He tries to mimic her, his teeth catching on her lips and biting a little too hard, and even though it's imperfect and slightly painful she lets out a moan into his mouth—she's wanted this for so long, too long, and it's making her impatient. He repeats the action and she moans again, the heat in her stomach beginning to coil and twist between her legs, and with one last tug at the back of his head she lets her hands drop to his shoulders, her fingers catching her the contours of his muscles as she rakes her nails down his chest, stopping to press and follow the v-shaped line that leads to the hard point between his legs.

She makes it as far as the seam on his stomach that switches yellow to red when he stops her, yelping slightly and pulling back, He's breathing heavy, his cheeks burning and his eyes excited. Her hands are still hovering around his abdomen, her thumbs pressing and tracing the line about his hips that would lead her to her goal. She watches him glance down at them and shake his head slightly, as if to clear it. "H-hold on Artemis." He stutters. She keeps still.

He looks like such a kid in this moment, flush and excited and hers, waiting to be played with.

She's just beginning to think she's made him forget his reasoning behind being angry but then he glances down again, his brows suddenly tight and pursed and staring at her hands. She shifts her pinky slightly, testing the waters and letting the corner of her nail tease a little closer to the hardness that's lurking there. "Artemis." He repeats her name, this time clearly with a warning. She goes still again.

They're mashed up against the bookshelf that's near his door, a rattling sound behind her telling her that they've loosened a few articles on it. She watches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes roaming her body openly, one of his hands bracing against the shelf and the other still on her waist. She watches his eyes trace her figure: the tightness of the kevlar between her legs, the muscles of her abdomen and the jutting of her hip bones above her leggings, the way her breasts are pressed together between her arms, her back arching and thrusting them out, so close to touching him. He lets out a breath that warms the skin of her cheeks, and she has to remind herself to be still.

When he finally gets to looking her in the eye she can still see the traces of excitement on his face; his cheeks are unusually red, his tongue reaching out to moisten his lips. She thinks that he's going to kiss her until a line appears between his brows and he steps back, escaping the hands that are clinging to his hips.

"… Why did you do that?" He asks her, his voice suddenly accusing. His hand is rubbing ferociously at the back of his neck.

She just blinks. "What?" Her voice is still a little husky, and she's half convinced that all she has to do is kiss him again and the fight will truly be over.

She steps closer and he nearly jumps back, as if she's contagious. "Why—I mean, did you think that would make it okay? Like what you did didn't matter anymore?" The honest answer is "yes," and he seems to read it in her silence. He looks truly disgusted with her. "Artemis… That's not…"

He looks like he's struggling to find his words to comprehend how idiotic she is. She simply stands there, feeling suddenly like she's been drained of every blood cell in her body, like whatever is supposed to be sending oxygen to her lungs has suddenly jumped ship, leaving her drowning and alone. He stutters for a few seconds, stopping and starting sentences. "… For fuck's sake, Artemis." He sighs at last. "Let's just not do this. I can't—I can't, okay? Not with you. I can't keep trying to fix someone who can't be fixed."

... As he says it she knows it's true; she's been thinking it for years. She's dead inside, she's been demolished, nobody can love her, nobody can be with her...

She feels as if she's been slapped again, one hand actually reaching up to touch her cheek and searching for the stinging sensation of flesh against flesh. At once she can feel her eyes overflowing with tears, her teeth reaching out to bite her lips as they begin to quiver. She can't even look at him.

She senses that he's stopped rubbing the back of his neck, as if horribleness of what he just said is beginning to set in. He's back in front of her, one hand on her shoulder and his voice suddenly panicked. "No. No, Artemis, don't be like that—"

She jerks out of his grasp, not looking at him as tears run fast and fierce down her cheeks. "It's fine." She says as evenly as she can. "Whatever. Let's just pretend this never happened."

She can feel his temper flare up at once, his nails scratching as her skin as he struggles to get grip on her. "Can you just stop being so over dramatic?" He hisses at her. She's already stalking towards his door, throwing his grip off easily. "So that's it, you're leaving? Artemis?" He calls after her as she slams his door in his face.

She doesn't even make it to the zeta tubes before she's sobbing, one of her knuckles digging painfully into her eye in an effort to staunch her crying. So there it is. Artemis: in Kid Flash's loosest definition. Broken. Unworthy of being fixed.

It's true and she knows it. It's always been true.

She think she can hear someone calling for her. She doesn't look back as she punches her code into the zeta tubes, her lips still burning from where she kissed him. She straightens her mask over her eyes and disappears into the night.

There are still tear tracks on her cheeks when she wanders into her bedroom twenty minutes later, her mask having been ripped off and crumpled at the back of her neck, forcing her head to an odd angle and giving her a head ache. She clicks the bedroom door shut, longing for nothing more than her bed and a dreamless sleep.

She's just let out a sigh, her hands still on the door knob. She inhales the scent of cigarettes.

"Hello, Baby Girl."

All the exhaustion she's been feeling quickly floods out of her, her veins suddenly filled with adrenaline. It's like she's been waiting for this, been waiting for him to surprise her and scare her and for once in her life she's anything but afraid; she wants him to attack her, wants him to hurt her and wants more than anything to have the opportunity to make him bleed. Without thinking she pulls an arrow taught, her teeth bared. "What are you doing here?" She hisses at her father, glaring as the old man leisurely lounges on Jade's old bed.

Lawrence laughs in a low menacing manner, his hand tucked behind his head. "Oh now, was all that League protection supposed to keep me out? That's adorable."

She actually snarls like she's some sort of wild animal, trying to find a fatal part of his body that isn't covered by thick armor. Mentally she places Paula a few rooms over, forcing herself to be quiet in order to keep her mother out of danger; she won't let Paula engage again, won't let Huntress out of her cage. "Get out."

Lawrence makes a move for his pocket, but rather than a weapon he draws his little tin of tobacco and some rolling paper. He flicks back his mask almost casually, as if she wasn't drawing an arrow on him. "Oh, come now, Baby Girl." He says almost affectionately, beginning to place the tobacco in the paper. "Can't a father ask his daughter about her day? How did your little friends react to your failure today?"

He's speaking to her like she's some sort of little kid, his fingers rolling the cigarette tightly together, licking the edges to seal it. He runs the cigarette under his nose and inhales, smirking at her. "Oh, not well? I wonder… With Red Arrow there, do they even have a use for you anymore?"

Fuck off.

He's hit her right where it hurts, as he always does. She remains silent, her bow string still taught, watching as he lights the joint, blowing smoke all around her room. "This has been a great pep-talk, Dad." She says through her teeth. "We should do this more often."

He blows out a long drag of smoke, looking at her a little more seriously now. "Oh, but we can Baby Girl. I've come here with a proposition for you."

She tenses. "...What is it?"

Lawrence rests the cigarette between two fingers, getting to his feet. "I'm going to be straight with you, Baby. I'm getting tired of us not being a family affair." He takes another long drag, this time blowing smoke at the Alice and Wonderland poster she's had since she was a girl. "Jade told me what happened the last time she was here, and I've seen enough for myself. You're good, Artemis. Real good."

... What?

She can feel her muscles slacking, her arrow dropping and pointing to the floor. She's a little shocked at this sudden omission, and he gives her a few seconds to recover before he resumes talking. "I miss you, Baby. And I miss your Mom too. I'm just trying to figure out a way for us to be a family again."

… A family again.

He's saying everything she's always wanted to hear, his fingers outing the cigarette against her window sill. This is it; her chance to make things right. To fix the damage she's done… When he looks at her again she can actually see a bit of remorse there, a little bit of hope. Her stomach clenches.

He's giving her a way back, an opportunity to fix all the mistakes she's ever made... She can bring the family together, can fix a marriage, can see her sister and talk to her without fear of blood or death or fighting... They can all sit on the couch together and laugh and love each other, and that made up memory can be more real to her than anything else...

... Have the last few months with the Team meant nothing to her?

Wally... M'gann... Dick... They're her friends...

... Well, not anymore. Not after tonight...

"I… I don't know, Dad. I don't know if I can."

She sounds pathetic when she says it, and at once he's crossed the room. She winces slightly as he raises his hand, his palm hard and rough against her cheek as he cups her face. "I'm just looking out for you, Artemis. I don't want those League guys pushing my baby around." He pulls at her chin, adjusting her like he used to, making her look more dangerous and threatening than she really is. "I don't like what they're doing to you, trying to replace you with that Red Arrow. Nobody replaces a Crock."

Nobody replaces a Crock.

He hugs her, hard and quick, and the feeling is so alien to her that she doesn't quite know what to do with herself; she keeps her arms awkwardly at her sides until he releases her. "You belong with us. Me, and Jade. We can protect Paula, take care of her together. We're a family." He holds her at an arm's length, giving her a familiar cold look. "I want it back. It's about time I stepped up again, start taking care of you and your mother the way I should have all along."

He could be a real father again. Maybe.

He seems to read some of the hesitation in her face, his palm tight when it grips her shoulder. "Listen Baby Girl, you were born for this kinda life. It's in your blood. And you can fight me, you can fight Jade… But you can't fight who you are. You can't fight us being a family. Families need to be together."

She looks away from him, watching out of the corner of her eyes as he retreats to the window and his still smoking cigarette. He picks it up and places it between his lips. "Think about it, alright? I wouldn't want you to miss an opportunity like this… For us to be together again."

She watches him out the window, shaking. She can't remember being so genuinely scared in her whole life.

She doesn't tell a soul about Sportsmaster or his offer.

She tries her best to act as normally as she can around the Team, but the ever present fact that she was responsible for their last failure seems to be weighing over all their heads; everyone is treating her like she's deliberately infected them with some sort of disease and she spends as little time around the Cave as possible for the next few days, avoiding the accusing looks they send her. She begins to wonder is she really has been replaced, especially when she catches Roy laughing easily with Kaldur and Connor.

She feels about ten times worse when Wally ignores her completely, avoiding her eyes during training and refusing to bring up her name in conversation with the others. With a certain amount of bitterness she starts to consider her father's proposition.

The first to start talking to her normally again are predictably Zatanna and M'gann, who were neither present for her reckless actions nor are really ones for holding grudges; besides, they can hardly resist her when she walks in on the two of them (painting each other's toes, of all the goddamn things) and announces to the room at large, "I blew it with Wally."

She's immediately heard wrong and Zatanna bursts out laughing. "You did what to Wally?"

Just like that, everything is fine.

"Zatanna!" M'gann is caught between being horrified and amused, and wordlessly she's waving Artemis over, handing her a bottle of polish before she can even sit down. She resigns to telling them the whole ugly story, even if it involves painting her nails a gaudy shade of magenta.

When she finishes she automatically glances to Zatanna, who tends to think more on her wave length in these sort of things; she feels her stomach drop slightly at the look on her face. "So I really blew it then?" She asks dryly. The corner of her big toe is smudged.

Zatanna shrugs slightly. "I don't know. Wally's a hard one to read."

She turns to M'gann, who looks cheerful despite the bleak account of her first kiss with the boy in question. "Well…" The way she stretches out the word isn't a good sign. "It's hard. I mean, it was kind of romantic, right? Kissing him to clear his head? But—"

"But I'm an idiot and screw up everything I touch?"

M'gann grins a little sheepishly as she finishes her sentence for her. "… Not exactly?"

She lets the other two analyze the details for a few more minutes, not really paying attention. She's longing to talk to Jade; she always knew more about boys than her, knew the perfect way to get a guy wrapped around her finger. Now that she knows for sure she's alive she's been catching herself craving some much needed sister-on-sister time, something she knows she won't ever really get.

She waits until her toes are dried before excusing herself, suddenly not really caring if anyone in the Cave tolerates her at all.

It takes a few more days before everyone, minus Wally, is talking to her normally again. It's odd; now that she has their attention back she finds she has no desire to have it, and she finds herself seeking solitude if she even goes to the Cave at all.

An odd memory comes bubbling to the surface of her mind, forgotten over the years they've been apart; somewhere along the line she remembers Jade ignoring her, not speaking to her for days on end over something trivial (Crock women hold notorious grudges) and finally breaking her silence when Artemis was nearly hit by a car while they were walking home together. She gets it into her mind that if she's in enough trouble Jade will come and find her, will come rescue her. On that note she starts getting reckless, putting herself into the line of danger more often on their missions than strictly necessary. She bleeds a lot more and gains a few new scars.

Robin pulls her aside in the back room of the Bioship after a particularly rough mission—or at least, rough for her. Everyone else seems to get out oddly unscathed, yet she's covered in odd bumps and bruises, her jaw slightly swollen from receiving a punch. He watches her bandage her hands, blood trickling from a swollen and bruised knuckle.

"How are you doing?" Is how he chooses to begin what turns out to be a well-planned interrogation; or at least that's what she gets the impression of it being as he sits down opposite from her on the make shift bunk.

She rips a bandage with her teeth, awkwardly tucking the edge into itself and grinning at him. "Fine. Takes more than a few bumps and bruises to get me down."

His mouth tenses at the way she causally gestures to her mangled body. "You sure have been getting a lot of those lately." He pauses, as if waiting for her to reply. "Everything okay?"

"Everything is great." She shrugs easily. The movement makes her shoulder ache.

Robin's head tilts slightly, and she can tell from the tightness in his jaw that he doesn't believe her. "You sure?"

"Positive."

He hesitates and then throws caution to the wind, rushing onwards into a sentence that sound pre-planned. "Look, we've all noticed something's up. You're all over the place in battle—it's not like you, pursuing multiple targets with no real plan, throwing yourself into the thick of things. Wally wanted me to ask—"

She cuts him short, narrowing her eyes to let him know she means business. "If Wally has anything to say to me he can tell me himself."

Robin glares at her behind his mask. "Fine." There's a long pause in which they both glare at each other, sizing the other one up. "So. Friday night. You got any plans? M'gann was thinking a movie night."

"Sorry." She shrugs, brushing him off easily with one of the lies she's started using every time someone asks to see her. "I have plans with some old friends. Maybe next time."

She goes back to tending her knuckles, tightening the bandages. He doesn't say anything back.

AN: Another update! I can't remember who asked it, but a few of you were wondering if I was going to continue being as canon as possible to the first season, and in response I'm saying an overwhelming YES! I've spent months doing research and watching the first season religiously, it would be borderline blasphemy for me to suddenly veer off now.

Just out of curiosity: Would any of you be interested in seeing a companion piece to this one, focusing instead on Wally's backstory and POV? Or would you rather I just go ahead and write a straight sequel, managing the years in between season 1 and 2? Let me know!

Review please!