Notes: Ehhhhhh I like the concept of this one, but I don't know if I like how it came out. Hopefully you all like it though!

Alternate Universe in which Artemis is recently blinded after her estranged father throws acid on her face. While coming to terms with her new lifestyle, Artemis prepares to start working with her new seeing eye dog.

She's still not used to this newfound darkness, black ebbing at every corner of her wasted vision. Experimentally, she opens her eyes wider, trying to wrench herself out of a monochromatic dream, but nothing changes. She allows herself a moment of grim humor to think it's possible that if she opened her eyes wide enough, the glass one might roll away, scaring all in its path.

Her moment of bleak distraction subsides as she hears the crack of the door and shuffled footsteps on the tiled floor of the office.

"Artemis?"

She hasn't yet developed stronger senses as a result of her lack of eyesight, so she turns around in what she thinks is the direction of the noise.

"Uh, over here," the voice corrects her. It's male and there's a slight crack in it that she might have once laughed at, had she met him before.

She turns again in her seat and the weird shuffling of his feet stops short. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologizes.

"It's cool," she shrugs. "I've been taking in the great scenery."

He laughs a little uneasily, like he's not sure if he's supposed to laugh at her joke. He coughs in an offhand manner and when he speaks again, it's with a new vigor and excitement.

"Well, it's nice to meet you! My name's Wally and I'm here to introduce you to your new seeing eye dog."

Despite her knee-jerk annoyance to his overly peppy voice, Artemis sits up a little straighter in her seat. She turns her head minutely, trying to hear a wagging tail or a panting tongue.

"You look excited. Have you ever had a dog before?"

She listens to him walk across the room and hears the shuffle of paper. His excited tone is not a surprise to her, but she is surprised by how clearly she can picture his expression. She has no idea what this trainer looks like, but Artemis finds herself ready to bet any amount of money that he's grinning, eyes flicking between her and whatever sort of papers he's shuffling through. She wonders briefly what color his eyes are before she shrugs off the idea, telling herself it doesn't matter.

"No. I always wanted one," she admits. He hums understandingly a little to her right and something about it makes her press on. "But my sister had cats when I was younger and we can't have dogs in our apartment complex."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he tells her earnestly. She has half a mind to roll her glass eye. How can this optimism and sincere behavior be real?

There's a small screech across the linoleum floor and Artemis can hear Wally sit down, presumably on the chair he just pulled over. She can't tell for sure, but she's pretty sure he's straddling the back of it. He just seems the type.

"For the longest time, my parents would only let me have a turtle," Wally laughs a little. "Less responsibility."

Artemis imagines the sheepish expression that his tone suggests and finds herself grinning a little. She pulls her ponytail over her shoulder and plays with the ends of it out of habit.

"I named him Velocity," Wally continues, "and he's actually the coolest pet I could ever imagine. You should see the way he eats grapes."

Something inside of Artemis twitches a little and suddenly she remembers that she's not just a regular girl talking to a boy. She's a blind girl talking to her seeing eye dog trainer.

"I'd love to see that," she responds, a little more frostily than Wally really deserves.

There's a moment of silence and Artemis doesn't really care much what he's doing. If he's biting the inside of his cheek or if he's pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead.

"Right," he finally says, drawing the word out. "I'm so sorry, Artemis."

She's heard that phrase so many times that she really doesn't care much if he means it or not. "Aren't they supposed to give you sensitivity training for this job?" she asks him icily, doing her best bitch-face and hoping the effect isn't spoiled by her glass eye.

"They are. I mean, they do. I mean, they did," he stammers along. She can hear him trip as he stands up from the chair. There's a slight rattle and she thinks he must have upset the chair as he stood, probably hastening to right it. The rattle stops with the resounding sound of metal legs settling on the floor. There's quiet for a moment before Wally sighs. "I've had the training."

"Whatever."

"Whatever, right," Wally agrees. There's a faint scratching noise and Artemis guesses he's scratching the back of his neck. He seems like the sort of awkward person who would do something so sheepish. He speaks again and his sincerity returns full force. "Well, I'm glad you're finally able to have your dog. Not the best of circumstances, but a seeing eye dog is still a really fun pet to have!"

"Yeah," Artemis responds, voice sarcastically bright and cheery. "All I needed to convince my mom to let me get a dog was a face full of acid from my dad. I got this cool new glass eye, too. I'm gonna be the envy of all my friends when I finally get to go back to school."

She regrets the words as soon as they're out of her mouth because, really, she should be over this self-pity. But before she can even take them back, Wally is cutting her off.

"Look," he starts, sheepish tones and awkward pauses gone. "Maybe that dark humor bit is a self-preservation thing or something, but if you don't stop, I'm not bringing the dog out. These dogs are great companions and I don't want you to take your hostilities out on them. Your dog just wants to say hello and be your friend."

Choosing to ignore the first part of his little speech, Artemis crosses her arms defensively. "Where is the dog, anyway?" The whole point to her being here is so she can get her dog and start assimilating to her new environment. At least, that's what her doctor keeps telling her. She doesn't even care anymore. She just wants to go home.

"No," Wally tells her. His voice is so final that she's willing to believe he shook his head for further emphasis. "You have to say one nice thing before I get the dog. Dogs can read people's emotions and you want this first impression to go well." He allows her a moment for his mandate to settle in before commanding her, "Now say something nice."

There's a short moment when Artemis legitimately wonders what her chances are of actually hitting him if she just starts swinging her fists wildly. Poor, she decides, and instead scowls darkly in his general direction. She's never liked being told what to do. And this isn't a recent development that evolved with the loss of her vision. It's a long standing pillar of her personality's biology.

But she also understands her desire to just go home. And she hasn't known Wally for more than ten minutes at the most, but she's pretty certain that he'll hold his ground.

"Fine," she agrees through gritted teeth. She sits there sulkily for a few moments, one leg crossed over the other, foot jiggling impatiently. "I'm sure this waiting room has more attractive fabric on the chairs than other waiting rooms."

"Sarcasm doesn't count," he reprimands her. "And no. The fabric is as hideous as you'd expect."

"Okay, fine. Um," she pauses, racking her brain for something positive amidst the rampage of angry and gloomy thoughts. "I guess, I no longer have to see litter on the ground. I always hated that."

"Nicer."

"This is bullshit," she swears, both frustrated with his stubbornness and impressed with his ability to stand his ground.

She doesn't know how much taller than her he stands, but she pictures him clear as day, standing in front of her with his arms crossed, expression pointed and jaw set. And she thinks maybe that's something she can be happy for at this moment.

It's easy to picture how her mom looks when Artemis can hear her cry at night. She can imagine the look of fury on Jade's face when Jade rages about how awful their father is. And she can definitely see the looks of pity her friends give her whenever they come by to visit. That's not the part of the blindness that she hates. She hates the unknown. She hates not knowing what the scenery is outside the window of the cab when the taxi driver takes her to a new part of town. She hates not knowing what her new dog will look like. She hates not knowing what color hair this trainer in front of her has.

But something about the way he talks to her makes her less afraid. She doesn't know if his nose is long or if his hair is curly or if he walks with a hunchback. But she can hear the smile in his voice and the expressions in his laugh. And for the first time when meeting a new person, she doesn't feel like she can't see who she's talking to. That sense of knowing makes all the darkness a little bit easier.

"Okay," she finally sighs. She bites at the inside of her cheek as she tries to find a way to word her thoughts. She falls short, her emotional dictionary a bit sparse at the moment, and tells him lamely, "I think you have a nice voice."

But maybe she conveys more than her meager words offer because it's quiet in the office for a long time. There's no possible way for him to understand what she means, but maybe he can understand her a little better in the same way that she can see him a little more clearly.

"That'll work," he finally says, his voice relenting and softer. Somehow, it's more sincere than all his optimism and excitement from earlier.

The door opens and shuts, and for a moment, Artemis thinks he's gone completely. And just as she's considering getting up and feeling her way around for the exit with her new cane, the door opens again. This time, Artemis can hear nails clipping against the tiles along with the shuffle of Wally's feet.

A smile starts to tug at the corners of her mouth and she adjusts herself on the chair to lean forward, one hand outstretched for the dog, her dog, to sniff.

"Artemis," Wally says formally, "meet Brucely."

A wet nose nudges at her hand and she can immediately hear the swish of a tail wagging against the floor. The smile grows to a grin and she moves her hand to start scratching Brucely behind the ear. His hair feels short and smooth under her filed nails, and she really likes how one ear is pointed and the other is flopped over.

She rubs at the fur around his neck and runs her hand down his back. Her hand makes contact with Wally's near the base of Brucely's tail and she immediately snaps her hand back as though electrocuted. She assumes Wally must have done the same because he starts to laugh. Artemis surprises herself by joining in on the laughter and resumes petting her dog.

"He likes you already," Wally tells her. The warmth of his words washes over her and she pretends it's only because of Brucely's calming affect that she lets herself be so touched by his words.

"Sorry about earlier," she mutters, momentarily grateful for her built-in excuse not to look him in the eye.

"Don't worry about it," Wally waves off. "This is the important part."

He gives Brucely a hearty pat and pulls away, letting the tips of his fingers brush over the back of her hand. Artemis looks up in his direction in surprise, before turning back to the dog and smiling to herself.

"Okay," Wally begins, "so here's the basics for how to take care of Brucely. Take care of him and he'll take care of you."

Hand still happily petting Brucely's smooth coat, Artemis leans back and listens and feels for the first time in a long time like she's not stuck in the darkness.

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