Artemis

She felt the pounding in her head before anything else, a stiff and throbbing pressure against the base of her skull. The cold firmness of the ground was her next sensation, and she knew better than to open her eyes and visibly join the waking world. Instead, Artemis slowed her breathing and heart rate and settled in closer to the concrete floor of her prison cell.

She knew a kidnapping when she saw one.

Artemis attempted to sort through her most recent memories in an effort to grasp a better hold on her situation, but a sharp pain interrupted her thoughts. She would have to fly blind, then.

First things first. Her training (both from her father and Ollie) told her that the first order of business post-kidnapping was to check yourself for injuries. A throbbing in her wrist told her that it was sprained – she probably landed on it when she fell after someone whacked her on the head. The tenderness on her head was probably the worst of it, but that was to be expected, as head injuries were always delicate and bled profusely. Other than a few other cuts and bruises (one notable on her knee from when she walked into her coffee table that morning. Or yesterday. How long had she been out? In any case, ow) Artemis felt relatively unharmed.

Next, location.

Artemis listened closely, but the only sounds she could discern were the soft hiss of air through ceiling ducts and what sounded a bit like the rhythmic echoes of a machine somewhere below her. Barely cracking an eye, she took in her quarters. Gray concrete floors, three gray concrete walls, and one translucent glass panel that made up the fourth wall in her cell. No obvious observational devices, although she assumed that an infrared microcamera or two were imbedded throughout the concrete, as was the norm in most of these holding cells. One must have picked up a movement, because soon a hum of electricity reached her ears. She looked towards the translucent panel as the glass cleared, and Artemis tensed at the figure standing in the corridor.

"Hello, Artemis. I was really looking forward to seeing you again." The blonde sat up, as obviously her farce had been discovered, and moved so that her back was to the wall facing the glass. Connecting the dots, she realized that the rhythmic pounding she had heard was not a machine after all, but the crashing of waves against the island's cliffs. Artemis knew exactly where she was.

"I figured Ubu would get you here on time. He's one of your more reliable Shadows, isn't he? Though I must admit, I was hoping that he would have been too late, Ra's."

The elder man hummed his disappointment, though his smirk remained. "They say that Lady Luck is a fickle mistress, though, somehow, she has never abandoned me. In addition, Miss Crock," he tilted his head back in an aloof manner, "as someone who trained under the Shadows for quite some time, I would have expected better respect from you."

Artemis gave a mock grasp, "My apologies! Great One," she murmured as she gave a jeering bow. The movement made her head throb in protest, but she ignored it. "What am I doing here? Infinity Island getting a little lonely with so many of your Shadows grabbed up by the League?" A small tensing at the corner of Ra's al Ghul's mouth told her that she got her location correct.

"Sadly," Ra's paced the length of her cell, running his fingers along the glass, "a few of my less capable servants have been apprehended, yes. But what do the French say? Que sera, sera… I have more pressing projects than those halted by those caped buffoons. No, my dear, I had you delivered to me for one simple reason: retribution." Artemis' hand flew to the now visible baby bump beneath her dirtied tunic. "You did put quite a crimp in my plans, after all, Tigress. However, when your condition," his eyes slid to her abdomen, "became apparent, a new kind of reckoning seized my mind, and the idea has since begun to grow on me. After all, what would be a better against you, against your League, than one of your own raised in the Shadows?"

Artemis opened her mouth in an angry retort, but her captor pressed a button out of her field of vision. The glass began to fog once more, although his voice carried behind. "Think on it. You have plenty of time to, after all."

Artemis slumped against the wall, exhausted and uncaring of whatever feed was being looped back to surveillance. Wally, she thought to herself, give me your strength. Artemis took a deep breath and calmed herself. She did well under pressure. She had been trained for this.

She reached back to where she head was throbbing and met what she knew to be caked, flaking blood, which she had expected, and winced at her touch against the tender area. Bringing her hand back to her lap, she stared at the ruddy flecks silently before she rubbed the dried blood into dust.

It was time to start planning her escape.

It was some time before anyone returned, but a few hours after her talk with Ra's a panel opened on the bottom of the glass wall. A tray was gently pushed through, laden with a stable meal, a little paper cup with what looked like a couple of her prenatal vitamins from home, and two glasses of water. A note was folded at the top of the tray next to the vitamin cup. The panel slid closed once more, seeming melting into the glass wall as if it had never existed.

During the break in time, Artemis had pieced together what she knew about Infinity Island: located in the Caribbean, staffed by the League of Shadows, multi-layered complex with a Lazarus Pit under the fortress. She estimated herself to be in one of the lower-level containment facilities, which meant that, if she were to escape, she would have to fight her way up to the group level if she wanted a chance to get away, and she would have to do so with a sprained wrist, head injury and possible concussion. Escape did not seem too plausible until she healed more; she estimated, at most, two to five days for her head and concussion, and she could start really using her wrist in about a week's time. If she wanted to be honest with herself, Artemis knew that she should really rest her sprain for three weeks, but she frankly did not have that luxury. In three weeks, her stomach would be even bigger, making it harder to maneuver and run.

Artemis looked down at herself, taking in the slight curve to her belly. As she was currently on her third month, she was just starting to become visibly pregnant. Alas, her lean, mean six-pack was no more. Her doctor had told her at her ten-week check-up on Friday that she should soon start to feel the baby kick, but she had yet to feel the sensation.

During her time alone, she had also slowly gathered what she could of the day she had been kidnapped. It had been a Monday, she could remember that, because she had visited a while with Roy and Lian. Jade had been off doing God knows what – even Roy didn't know, "plausible deniability" he had told Artemis when she had asked – and the visit had last just until lunch, when she had left to meet Zatanna for a late lunch. They had sat at the bistro on the outside patio (she had eaten a cup of soup for her nausea, then told herself screw it and ordered a burger, which she only ate half of, anyway) and caught up. They had parted around two, two-thirty, and Artemis took a shortcut through the park to the zeta tube back to Gotham, where she had been living with her mother at the older woman's insistence.

She does not remember making it to the zeta.

The note on the tray drew her attention, and she left her spot on the back wall to approach the food. She cast the pills a dubious glance as she brought the paper up to her eye level. Carefully, she unfolded the letter and settled back on the floor.

Ms. Crock,

I hope the accommodations are to your liking. If not, I am certain that the two of us can come to some sort of arrangement regarding your comfort here. I have included a few prenatal supplements with your meal, as well as an additional glass of water. I can arrange for additional medical attention, as well. Women in your condition are fragile, I remind you, so take into consideration my offer for new chambers.

Ra's al Ghul

She crumpled the note in her hand. Fragile. Despite her lack of participation in team missions, Artemis still worked with the younger members on conditioning and training in the Watchtower during the weekend. She was still fit, more athletic, in fact, than she had been when she had been going on missions after Wally's death. She could flip a man three time her weight over her shoulder or break someone's elbow with two strikes. She could run a mile in under six minutes, then turn around and sprint another four hundred meters. Artemis was not fragile.

She winced at a small stomach cramp and breathed out a sigh. Artemis was not fragile, but her child certainly was. The cell she was currently in held no padding, no facilities. There was no telling how long it would take for her to escape or if there was any outside help looking for her. She could not help but wonder again how long it had been since her abduction – would her mother think that she had stayed in Star City for the night? Did anyone even know that she was missing?

Artemis smoothed out the crumpled note, looked into the upper rear corner where she assumed the microcamera was installed and nodded. She would take up Ra's al Ghul's offer.

The blonde took the tray with her to the back wall and settled in with her food. If she was going to make a bid at escaping, she would need her strength, after all.