"One move and I shoot."

The words still echoed in Artemis's head like it was yesterday. She could still feel the icy grip of fear encircle her body as she saw him hanging there from the man's arms, covered in blood, a gun at his head. Closing her eyes, she could smell the dankness of the alley, the sharp tang of blood; she could taste the cold, December air, hear the heavy pants of her teammates and the deathly silence that followed the Red Hood's ultimatum. Even as she returned to the scene, four years later, she almost couldn't bear to stand where she'd stood. It was too real – it would always be too real.

The entire city reminded her of the days she'd spent with Roy, combing the streets of Gotham, in the grips of a nightmare. All the shops they'd broken into, demanding answers. All the bodies they'd beaten until they were no longer even capable of reply. All of the false leads, the calls from the League confirming negative, the desperate pleas from the Team demanding to know what was going on. Artemis could still taste the utter despair she'd felt after exhausting every corner, every drug lord, every. Last. Thing. It still hurt, like an old wound deep in her body. She would never be able to forget, never be able to erase those nights from her memory. Gotham would forever hold the pain, torture, unbearable suffering for her that it held for so many others. But the difference between them and her was that she couldn't take it anymore. She was leaving.

Wally had an apartment Palo Alto and was attending Stanford. Artemis had never really entertained the idea of going to college – the sorority life wasn't really for her – but, with Dick's help, she'd manage to scrape by with a pretty impressive GPA her junior and senior year and her test scores were above average. She may be a couple years late, but…. She missed Wally as well; after he'd 'retired' (Artemis still teased him about that) it had never really been the same. She grasped now that maybe the speedster had realized earlier what had taken Artemis years to figure out: she just couldn't do this anymore.

After the entire incident, Artemis had managed to move on and it seemed Wally had too. Roy hadn't and he'd been the first to leave, chasing down leads on where Cadmus's new base was, determined to find the 'real' Roy Harper and enact some of his own revenge on the malign institution. He'd offered to both Wally and Artemis to come with him, but Artemis hadn't been able to imagine willingly confronting Cadmus again. Wally refused as well and stuck around with the Team for a few more years. Once he graduated and moved away to California, however, balancing heroing work with college came to be too much and he left as well.

Artemis could still remember Dick's face when Wally told him he was leaving. And now Artemis was planning to do the same.

Artemis let out a sigh, turning away from the alley and everything it held, letting it slip through her fingers as she prepared to leave Gotham and all its pain behind. She'd never been one to run from pain or difficulty – she faced everything head-on and fought till it was beaten. Now, though, it was different. The wound ran too deep; no matter how hard she tried to fix it, it would never be enough. She had to leave, to get out while she was still alive. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was weak, but if there was one thing that Artemis learned over the past four years, it was that she couldn't fix everything – not even herself.

The letter to Dick fell out of her hand as she turned and walked away.

oOo

"Blake."

Blake turned slowly, his hand resting easily on his gun as he spun to face the young man. He was dressed in dark clothes, a hood pulled over his face, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the brick wall.

"What do you go by now?" Blake asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried in vain to peer under the shadowy hood at the man's face.

"Haven't decided yet," the man replied casually. His form was a picture of ease as he so insouciantly tried to goad the cop into the open.

"I heard what happened to the new Robin," Blake continued, a note of sympathy lacing his voice.

"I'm sure you didn't hear that from Gordon."

"No." Blake sighed.

"He's doing fine, in case you were wondering. Losing his best detective was hard, but… your replacement does well enough. For now."

Blake nodded, surprised by the lack of malice in the other man's voice. "Leaving Gotham was hard-"

"But necessary," the man finished, again in a perfectly simple voice. "I don't blame you."

"You don't?" Blake had never been one to take what others said to heart, but it had still stung imagining the denunciation from the boy for his abandoning the city.

"No. Though what I don't understand is Gordon's response to it all." The man pushed himself off the wall and started pacing the alley. "I mean, he loses his best detective and yet he refuses to hire someone even better in his place? No offense, of course," he added with a small smirk that lit up from under the hood. "Still, not that I wanted to stick around Gotham – the whole idea was to get away, actually – but it would have been nice to know I was at least wanted."

Blake watched Grayson pace, the limp he'd long possessed still visible, though not dramatically so, as he slowly meandered between the two brick walls enclosing the alley.

"You tried to get a job with Gordon?" Blake asked, easing his hand off his weapon and crossing his arms loosely.

"Mostly just for kicks," the boy replied, not looking at the cop. "Babs had a job there, wanted me to apply. I would've turned it down anyway."

"Hm…."

"Wouldn't make a very dramatic scene if I stormed out, only to hang around under his nose."

"You left?" Blake asked, mildly surprised.

Grayson stopped moving and seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding and carrying on. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Why?"

"Nosy, aren't you?" Grayson laughed. "It's a long story; lot of built up tension, you probably already know it."

Blake sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What are you doing here?" He finally asked.

"Sulking, brooding. Looking for a job."

"There're no heroes in Blüdhaven," Blake started to say, but Grayson cut him off.

"I know. That's why I'm here. And that's why you're here, too." Grayson stopped his pacing again. He reached up and brushed off his hood, running a hand through his long, dark hair as he let out a long breath. Blake hadn't seen the boy in person for a while, only catching glimpses of him on television every now and then. He had grown, no longer the scrawny teenager the cop had once known. He was still a few inches shorter than Blake, built with lean, compact muscle like a gymnast. His face was fuller, with defined cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and the scar that still ran down the side. His hair was longer, rough and shaggy and fell in his eyes.

"I'm hardly a hero," Blake finally said, letting his arms fall to his side.

"Some might beg to differ. But I didn't come to you for that kind of job. I think I can handle the tights on my own." Grayson smirked again.

Blake understood now. "Why would you want to be a cop?" He asked, eyeing the boy curiously.

"Well, for one, I need money if I'm going to live here. And I don't want to just filch off of Bruce's," he added quickly. "'Sides, I bet I'd be a great cop. Not to mention I'll get inside access to all things criminal – 's'not like I have a batsignal or anything; I need a way to get intel."

It made sense, but there was still one thing…. "Why here?" Blake asked. "Why Blüdhaven, of all places?" If Dick was trying to get away and out from under Batman's shadow, he wasn't going very far.

The boy sighed again, his face darkening and his voice growing serious. "I was trapped here for six weeks and no one knew it. If it hadn't been for some twist of fate, I would be dead. I was one in thousands. Thousands who weren't so lucky and thousands more who won't be, unless someone does something. Every hero has his drive, the one thing that spurs him forward even in the hardest times. For too long mine's been simply making Bruce proud. Sure, part of it was wanting to make sure no one else ended up like me, but at the heart of the matter…." Grayson clenched his fists and Blake heard the metal of his right hand softly clink. The cop noticed for the first time that the boy wasn't wearing gloves, the exposed metal glinting softly in the darkness.

"This city needs a hero," Grayson finally said. "You know that as much as I do. I'm ready to give it that. Who knows, maybe together, we can fix it."

The end.

Wow, that's something I've only ever been to write once before. Not too long ago I thought I'd never be able to finish a story, but now I've finished two. Though technically it's only one story. Thank you so much to everyone who read it – it's hard to believe how long this journey's been and that it's finally coming to an end. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did and hopefully we'll get to have another go at it someday. I mean, I did just open up a whole new plot….

Anyways, that is all for Fix You. Thank you again for riding this crazy ride and I'd love if you would leave one last review, maybe sharing your favorite part, or why you liked this story, or why you hated it, if that's the case. Don't worry, I won't cry ;).

Now before I close this up, I'd like to take a looooong minute to thank my friend GRUBStheBESThero for all of her help because seriously without her, this story wouldn't have finished. She kept me writing even when I was blanking and she gave me ideas when I was blanking. Without her this story wouldn't nearly be as awesome as it is and it probably wouldn't even be finished. So thank you, you're the best.

And now, for one last time,

Alex out.