Chapter 11: Snakes Have Ataxia
Artemis hated feeling cold. She always had.
It was a feeling that itched up through her hands and feet and stayed under her skin for ages. Every year, whether it was for birthday, Christmas or anything in between, she asked for blankets. Blankets and sweaters and anything warm, really.
Which is why she had been absolutely ecstatic to see Connor walk through the door with a overstuffed duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Not the Dick didn't have a lot already, he had a similar relationship with the cold, but it would hardly be enough for the both of them.
She watched banter between Dick and Connor traded in volleys, eyeing the case of soda he'd settled on the table for a moment with suspicion in her mind.
Her hand wandered to her pocket where a list titled 'stupid fun' was folded, inking out a list of movies she though the three could enjoy together.
"Hey," Connor shot her a playful smile, "I see you're still insistent on hogging the couch."
Something fluttered in her stomach, nostalgia or maybe just comfort.
"I see you brought me a gift."
He smirked, allowing the bag to slip to the ground, unzipping it and tossing at least four thick quilts in her direction.
There was a triple feeling of warmth spreading through her entire being.
Physical, obviously, the ambers of old friendships finally being allowed to burn a but brighter, and Dick.
He was happy.
Like, really happy. It was damn near the most heartwarming thing she'd seen in years and she couldn't be prouder of him.
"Here," she whipped out the list and tossed it at Dick, "pick one to start with, Connor will get the TV all set."
"I will?" Came a confused mumble from him, quickly silenced by the sharp look Artemis sent at him.
A soft laugh was breathed out by Dick, making his way back to the couch.
With a hard eye roll, Connor stood and started messing with the input while Dick sat beside the blonde archer, once again being used as a footrest.
"You could sit like a normal person, you know." He glanced over with raised eyebrows.
She snorted, "This coming from the guy who sleeps in a chin-stand. I smell hypocrisy!"
A pillow flew towards her face, bumping into her cheek with enough force to do little more then make her head turn.
She chucked it back, her smile hiding the eyes that carefully studied his form, as they had been since she got there.
It was those overly pushy eyes that notice his spaciness.
That caught onto those intensely dry looks he gets whenever a memory tugs too hard at his consciousness.
That saw his twitching fingers and nervous glances.
It was something trained into her through archery, and it was useful to no end.
But at the same time it felt like a betrayal.
Like she was picking through the minds of her friends without their permission and violating hard-earned autonomy.
She hear Connor's little cheer when the screen lit up, and Dick's teasing call that technology was more an enemy to the boy of steel then monkeys ever were.
Artemis laughed and kept a steady, discrete watch.
He was relaxing into the couch cushions hands gently pattering over her blanketed legs.
Nothing's wrong, she kept telling herself as though that would make her believe it.
Truth be told, Dick seemed perfectly okay. No surface level glitch pushed forward and even looking past a few levels of his nuanced social cues all was right.
But there was a hole in her gut, scraping at her lungs and throat, turning the air a little bit thicker then it should be.
It was a sensation crawling over her back, teasing her skin, one she was painfully familiar with; anxiety.
The opening notes of a marching tune started up from the speakers, one that Artemis remembered vividly.
It was by a composer she'd liked throughout high school and earned her the nickname 'Colonel Crock', given to her by Barbara.
John Philip Sousa, the back corner of her mind, the part still listening to his thrumming compositions, supplied.
The image of roses curled across the screen, moving like snakes with ataxia.
Her dark eyes met his bright ones, gleaming with an impish amusement.
"Flying Circus. Couldn't help yourself, could you."
A smirk grew onto his face, creasing gentle crows feet into the corners of his eyes.
"You can take the boy out of the circus..." Dick glanced at Connor who was stifling a laugh, red creeping across his cheeks in vague embarrassment.
"You put it on that list, what did you think was gonna happen?" He mockingly cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Shut up and watch. I love this series."
Artemis growled playfully.
"Dork."
A shocked smile pulled at her lips when she felt a well-worn weight on her stomach where there lay a throw pillow and and elbow propping up Dick's head.
His legs remained under hers in a half-bent position that he seemed comfortable in.
Granted, he feasibly couldn't be uncomfortable with the absurd flexibility he still possessed, but she would never get used to seeing his form pretzeled like it was the easiest thing in the world.
As the intro rolled on, she was shot into the past.
Days spent at the cave, just like this.
God she'd missed it, and she had it on good authority that the two sitting with her missed it too.
They sat there quipping and laughing, nostalgia's breath passing through the air, making it feathery and easy.
It was just the three of them, content and alive and safe.
It felt good.
Until it didn't.
Amidst the buzzing conversation and flitting laughs, brevity and sense-making be damned, a tin can with a dented side sprayed sweet smelling soda across the coffee table.
"Noooo!" Dick stumbled back dramatically, fist clenched like a shakespearian actor. The laughs turn from soft to almost painful.
His eyes crinkle as a dumb little grin spreads over his lips.
"Hold up I gotta grab some towels before it ruins the wood."
It felt good.
His footsteps were drowned by the almost childlike giggles of Artemis and Connor, the latter presently struggling to cover the leftover soda that had shot from his nose moments before.
"God I wish I caught that on tape." Artemis said between intakes.
"Jackass." He shot back with a exasperated huff.
The episode had faded into the credits, volume turned down to a hum.
Amidst the very serious case of the giggles Artemis currently suffered from, she felt a shift in the room. The warmth hitched a little, and there was a phantom burn in her mind. Her eyes met the prying stare of Connor.
Until it didn't.
His mouth was pressed shut into a stubborn line, hands slowing curling and uncurling.
Awesome, the anxiety was back.
Poking and prodding at the comfort 'til she wanted to squirm.
"What's up?" She leaded forward, some part of her, a part that was desperate to move under his intense ocular assault cheered.
"Can you tell me what's going on?"
Okay, wow, not what she was expecting.
Artemis blinked, opening her mouth to respond at the very moment her brain decided to short circuit.
Fantastic.
Thus she stared, biting down on her lip to cover the stumble and trying to figure out what excuse he might buy.
In all her eloquence and grace, she decided on a (very distinguished) "Huh?"
Wincing slightly at his huff, Artemis pulled back.
"I'm not stupid, Artemis."
She held back a choked laugh. This was something she could work with.
"This just in-"
"You know what I mean." He interrupted, the hard set of his mouth freezings her attempts at humour.
"Dick's barely made contact with anyone other then you and Tim for, what, almost three years? And now all of a sudden he's asking to see us and- you know what's up, don't you."
Connor's face was pinched in a combination of frustration and concern.
Mentally she back-pedalled, looking for a reaction or response that could fit the situation easily enough.
But there wasn't one. She was new to this. This... whatever it was, verbalizing? Words?
"Why're you acting like it's a bad thing?" She said, trying to put at least a little confidence into the cherrypicked words.
"No I-" He shook his head, the fidgeting of his hands returning with a vengeance.
It was almost amusing how terrible they both were at this, the tripping and flustered backtracks. And how easy it was to twist words into a warfare to keep the questions at bay.
Is that messed up? Maybe a little.
But, sadly, there comes a time when a proper explanation is needed.
"I'm glad, I really am. But it's so... so sudden, and jarring too. I know it's been a long time since he left but this feels,"
He searched desperately for a word. Any remaining softness to his face was disappearing as his brain careened through an internal dictionary.
"disingenuous." He settled on with a grim frown.
She sat there with a hard question that wasn't hers to answer.
This really wasn't her place to say, it wasn't.
But Dick Grayson holds the title of 'Worst At Asking For Help' by far.
So, whose trust is she gonna bend and splitter today? The boy of steel can take a few dents to his conviction, right? Is it bad to even put someone else's faith down as expendable or is that okay? Hell if she knows.
This was a mess and it was hard to keep in line with how she should be handling this. Despite her hotheadedness having largely panned out over the years, impulse was always urging her actions.
"Well," she started, eyeing him with etherized unease, "we let him be for however long he needed. This is how long he needed."
He watched her for a moment, eyes scanning every inch of her face and form, it felt like he was under her skin.
"Even if I do know... Connor, do you really want to hear it from me instead of him?"
Artemis winced internally at the irony.
She was berating him for a lack of trust.
Hah.
He gave a small nod just as the soft thumps of feet moving over the floor came from down the hall.
Artemis counted her breaths, trying to smooth out her features as to not make him suspicious.
Who was she kidding, it's his house. He probably has the room bugged anyways.
Dick can read her like a damn book, even when she did her best to hide it.
Around thirteen slow breaths later, he rounded the corner with a wiry smile.
"Found some." He announced, dumping two light towels onto the puddle of still popping soda.
"Yet you can't find your keys per-daily."
Artemis said, hoping the tome of the evening would return to normal.
Or at least what it had been before.
"That was one time!" Dick groaned, plopping down next to her on the sofa.
There it was, the warmth.
She watched Connor light up out of the corner of her eye, seemingly forgetting his concerns.
"I smell a story. What happened to the keys?"
Artemis grinned, beginning her theatric, overdramatic retelling of the great Key Crisis of June wherein Dick has left his keys... somewhere (later to be discovered as having been in an old mug the whole time) and resorted to climbing in and out his window, even for normal things, for a full week and a half.
They exchanged stories about each other, the team, their families, anything for hours.
At some point they collectively passed out.
It had been a good night.
Until she awoke to a room empty of her friends, the sounds of heavy footsteps and a low, growling voice just loud enough to hear through the walls.
"You don't get to make that choice, Connor."
AN: I'm alive! And I come bearing a decent length chapter! How 'bout that.
And fear not, my baby birds, I will feed you. There will be an update soon so you won't have to be stuck with the cliffhanger for long. It's gonna be fun! For me, not you guys. It's actually pretty upsetting for y'all... Anyways, as always thanks a TON for reading and please feel free to put any suggestions, criticisms, compliments or general thoughts in the reviews. It really makes my week when I get even one.
'Til next time!