Chapter Three

This was a mistake .

She'd told herself that during the entire nineteen hour flight from Kuala Lumpur to New York, but as she walked down the jet bridge into Gotham International, even as her mind screamed for her to turn around and get back on the plane, her feet kept pushing forward

One minute she'd been making travel arrangements to Spain to meet her sister and Zane in Puerto de la Cruz to discuss contract work that he'd negotiated on their behalf, assisting a local businessman in tracking down a disgraced public official who'd run off with a few million Euros of the drug lord's money. She'd been assured there'd be no killing, just a simple reconnaissance and recovery operation. What the cartel did after that was none of their concern.

As she passed by the TSA officers, relieved that her forged ID and passports had been so well crafted, the reality of her situation finally sank in. This wasn't a dream; this wasn't some stress induced fantasy she'd created, this was Gotham, this was home.

She'd barely scraped together enough money to purchase the round trip tickets, borrowing from Jade without giving an explanation as to why. How Jade had come into possession of that kind of money to begin with she still had no idea and frankly didn't want to. They both had left the Shadows with exactly what they'd brought into it; nothing. But her sister had always been resourceful when she needed to be, and Jade loaned her the money without question, but Artemis was sure she had her suspicions, but was smart enough not to ask.

Artemis had never actually ruled out coming back to the States, but better opportunities and fewer complications lay elsewhere, and she'd always hated complicated.

The biggest issue was why. What did she hope to accomplish? Was it a sense of closure; nostalgia perhaps? Even now she still wasn't sure. Her plan was to go to her mother's gravesite and pay her respects, perhaps visit the old neighborhood one last time, see if the home she'd grown up in, the one that meant so much to her mother still stood. Gotham wasn't just where Artemis's new life had begun, but Paula Crock's as well. It was a new city where she could start over and finally be free of her criminal past and as well as the psychopath she'd shared more than half her life with.

Despite having only lived there a few short years, Gotham felt like home to Artemis as well. Perhaps just like her mother, it was the first time in her life she'd felt free from her father's shadow. It was where one night in her living room two vigilantes, two heroes she'd admired her whole life had sought her out and offered her an opportunity despite her past to become part of something bigger, something special, because she was special.

Boy we're they dead wrong she bemused.

Notwithstanding all these perfectly valid reasons for returning, deep down she knew the truth. It was them, it had always been them.

Despite the offering of an incredibly bad inflight movie, she'd chosen instead to browse the web, her first unfettered use of the internet in years. Shadow agent's access to cyberspace had always been highly restricted, mainly used to send and receive coded information and messages, target profiles, timetables, etc. Personal use was not tolerated, and the Shadows had eyes everywhere.

So with her new found freedom, she began a search for anything newsworthy or of note currently happening in Gotham City, just items or events she should be aware of prior to arrival. That was it, nothing more. That mindset lasted all of about five minutes before she changed the parameters and searched instead for specific individuals. As the information appeared on the screen, she was slightly surprised by the results, puzzled that her inquiries had provided such little information.

When she left the Team those many years ago, they were all heroes on the rise, future members in waiting to join the Justice League, but to her surprise none had, not the core group anyway. Doing a separate search of their civilian ID's had been a little more fruitful.

Of course the adopted son of one of the world's most powerful and well known businessmen had been easy enough to find, all one had to do was look at any Gotham tabloid and he'd be on the cover with some model or socialite under his arm. However his alter ego was another matter entirely.

The person wearing the slightly modified Robin uniform these days couldn't be more than fourteen, definitely not the teenager she fought side by side with all those years. According to the crime beat page of the Gotham News Journal website, the vigilante known as Nightwing had recently broken up another child trafficking ring. He dressed all in black except for a domino mask and a blue bird crested on his chest. It didn't take a detective to make the connection.

Another former teammate had become the Atlantean ambassador to the United Nations, not a terrible stretch for the noble and dignified person she remembered. Why he'd chosen to leave the life wasn't much of a puzzle either. His first responsibility as well as his heart had always belonged to Atlantis.

Zatanna Zatara, the daughter of the world famous magician Giovanni Zatara, was a master illusionist in her own right, with a recent stint of sold out shows stretching from Boston to San Francisco. Despite her notoriety, after a little digging Artemis recognized a striking resemblance to a reserve member of the Justice League, one wearing a slightly different uniform and hairstyle from that of her stage persona. How no one had ever made that connection was beyond her, but another League member had protected his secret identity for decades with nothing more than a set of eye glasses, so anything was possible she supposed.

The remainders were a mystery though, with no listings for Kent, Morse, or….West. It would take and effort to find them if she chose, but finding people is what she did. The problem was she didn't know if she should.

The smart thing to do was to lay low, stick with her original plan and a week from now she'd be sitting on some Spanish beach surveilling a target, finally having a little money in her pocket and starting a new life. There was no need to make contact. She didn't owe anyone an explanation. She was dead, end of story.

I don't do complicated Artemis reminded herself over and over.

xxx

A solitary figure in black raced across the rooftops of Gotham. The crossbow hanging from her belt beat roughly against her thigh, her footsteps heavy. She was stealthy by nature; one wouldn't survive long in the Shadows if they weren't, but not tonight. She was loud, she was trying to be.

The archer had sought out the normal high crime areas of Gotham, occasionally letting an arrow fly as a warning to the local criminal element that somebody was watching; all the while aware that someone was watching her as well. This quiet cat and mouse game went on for several hours before taking a break and perching herself on the ledge of the Gotham Metropolitan Opera, sipping her energy drink and staring down at the streets below.

She watched in amazement at the sheer mass of people that called the city home. At any moment regardless of the hour, the streets, sidewalks and subways would be filled to the tipping point with people going to work, visiting friends, going to school, enjoying a night out, just living their lives.

It was a far cry from a few months prior when she'd spend weeks never even seeing another living soul, lying in some marsh or cold desert floor, waiting for a target to trip up, climb out of some cave or hole in the ground just long enough, completely unaware that their life was about to change drastically.

Sitting here now watching the city seemed so surreal. The archer felt infused with the same energy and excitement she'd felt as a teen when Gotham had become her home and she became a hero. She watched as a couple walked hand in hand down the sidewalk below, completely oblivious to anything but each other, she remembered that feeling well. Artemis kept them in her sight until the two lovebirds finally disappeared off in the distance, just as the batarang landed at her feet.

Suddenly a voice behind her spoke out from the shadows "Welcome back from the dead."

Artemis jumped to her feet, her hands instinctively drifting towards her weapon. Nightwing noticed the motion but didn't react. If she was here to kill him, she would never have gone to such effort to be found.

"So no hugs for your long lost teammate huh?" she replied with a smirk, surprised at how nervous she suddenly felt standing in front of him. Behind the black domino mask all she saw was a cold calculating gaze, very reminiscent of the man he'd spent a lifetime working with, the same man Nightwing swore he'd never become.

There were very few traces of the teen she remembered in the man that stood before her now. He was at least a foot taller if not more, sporting a longer hairstyle, carrying a solid amount of muscle on his athletic frame. He looked very commanding, very authoritarian, much like the Dark Knight, but what she noticed most of all was he looked like someone who wasn't remotely overjoyed by her return.

"You don't seem surprised," she said, "how long have you known?"

"Awhile" he answered. "The Shadows have leaks just like any other organization. Rumors of two half Vietnamese female assassins on a killing spree throughout Asia and the South Pacific, a rare binary explosive that only handful of bomb makers know how to produce, blast doors that I couldn't hack, the momentum conservation and blast radius of an explosion timed just perfectly for the three of us to escape relatively unharmed; little pieces that all fell in to place. When Batman and I finally tracked down the bomb maker, after a little persuasion, he described you and your sister to a tee."

"Who else knows?" she asked.

"Just Batman and myself as far as I know," he confirmed.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Artemis questioned.

"What was the point? When we finally figured it out, you'd been "dead" for years. There was no suspect out there to apprehend, no killer to be caught. You'd obviously gone to a lot of trouble to cover your tracks and by then everyone had mourned and moved on. What good would it do? You joined the team full of secrets and lies, and you left that way. There was no purpose in reopening old wounds."

His words were factual if not a little biting. Unwilling to meet his eyes, instead she focused on the blue insignia on his chest and studied his new uniform, his new persona. In person it was an impressive battle suit. Truth be told, she wasn't that fond of his old one. For a kid that liked to disappear in the shadows, bright red and yellow never seemed like a smart fashion choice.

They stood in silence, studying each other carefully before he finally spoke again. "Why are you here?" he asked sternly.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I've been asking myself the same question."

"Was it worth it?" he asked, surprising the archer with his query. He'd always known or figured out most of her secrets; it seemed some things about him hadn't changed that much after all. To her credit she didn't react surprised or shocked; her training wouldn't allow her to, but still she never hesitated with her answer.

"Yeah… it was." she answered coldly. "Dick he murdered my mom in cold blood, attacked a defenseless woman in a wheelchair and tortured her for days, all because she wanted something more for her daughters then to become just criminals or assassins."

"She must be so proud," he said bitterly.

Her brow furrowed, but she remained impassive. He'd become so much like his mentor, putting up a wall that no one could see past, she could relate but she didn't have to read him to know he was angry; betrayed. Deep down she didn't blame him. He'd been their team leader; her death had been on his watch. That was a lot of burden to place on a seventeen year old's shoulders.

"He got exactly what he deserved. There was no way in hell Jade and I were going to let him walk away. He must have known we'd be coming for him, but was either too arrogant or stupid to think we wouldn't kill him. So to answer your question, it was worth everything I've been through to make sure that piece of shit never hurt anyone else again and if I had to do it all over I would do the same exact fucking thing. If your waiting for an apology, you might be standing here for a long - long time. I owe you an explanation, nothing more."

They stood silently, starring each other down, unsure of what to do or say next. Dick had more to say she could tell, but he refused to. He'd cared for her once, had even developed a small crush on her during their time in the bowels of Mt Justice fighting the Reds, but this person now, this former teammate didn't want to have anything to do with her. If she'd sought him out for closure, she'd gotten it, just not in the way she'd hoped.

"What you do from this point on is your business, but remember this is my city, if you're here on business I'd suggest you do it somewhere else."

Nightwing reached down and recovered the spent baratang, locking it back into place on his belt. He began walking towards the edge pausing momentarily to face her.

"And just a word of advice; if you go searching for closure you may not like what you find. People have changed and moved on with their lives. I'd suggest you do the same."

She watched as his head tilted slightly, putting a finger to his ear, most likely listening in on some police channel he'd been monitoring. Nightwing stepped to the edge, removing the gun from his belt and shooting the grapple. Looking back briefly he spoke his final words.

"Sometimes the dead need to stay buried," and moments later Nightwing disappeared into the dark Gotham night.

xxx

She cursed herself for not listening to her inner voice. This had been a mistake. Thomas Wolfe had said it best when he wrote You Can't Go Home Again, and it became so ironic that his last published work, the only one she'd ever read had so adeptly mirrored her own story. Artemis hadn't expected hugs and kisses from her former teammate, but maybe a bit more understanding from someone who'd lost their parents to the same kind of violence as she had.

….just a word of advice, if you go searching for closure you may not like what you find. Nightwing was probably right, but something about his remark had been so… cryptic. In all the years she'd known him, Dick Grayson rarely misspoke, and in those last words she felt there was a message hidden between the words, and she had a disheartened feeling of who he was most likely referring.

She spent the rest of the evening visiting old haunts. As she'd suspected, the apartment building she'd once lived had been torn down to make room for some urban revitalization project. Schwarz's Bakery, Zaragoza's Grocery, the Boys and Girls Club; all gone. The sign if front of the empty lots displayed images of high end condos and mixed-use neighborhood shopping, dining and entertainment venues that would soon be built in their place. All the things that gave the old neighborhood character and made it special had been stolen or stripped away, she could easily relate.

Next she made her way onto the grounds of Gotham North, now renamed Hamilton Hill High School in honor of the stuffy bureaucrat that had been the city's mayor for so many years. Despite the fancy new name it still looked old and worn down, much like the man it was now dedicated to. This school was the first place she'd actually made friends of her own, the first chance she'd gotten to feel what it was like to be a normal teenager, at least until she was forcibly enrolled into the snooty Gotham Academy. It seemed smaller now and Artemis wondered how long it too would last before being demolished and forgotten. It surprised the archer how the feelings of nostalgia pulled at her heartstrings, and even more so that she still had heartstrings left to pull.

Throughout the night she visited a few more haunts, places that still remained special to her, places that reminded her of who she'd once been. That in of itself had been worth the trip she convinced herself.

As dawn broke, jet lag and the emotional rollercoaster she'd been riding had finally taken their toll and she needed some sleep, however cash flow was a bit of a problem. She'd scrounged together just enough for the return ticket with little remaining. The job Zane had secured them in Spain was supposed to kick start that problem and help her start anew, but instead she'd found herself back in this god forsaken city still trying to figure out why, and with what money she did have, she frankly couldn't afford anyplace decent. But after spending the better part of a decade living in filthy shacks, shanties, or hostels, roughing it in Gotham for one night was more like a day at the spa comparatively speaking.

All she required was a quiet place where she could steal some Wi-Fi, book her return flight, close her eyes for an hour or so, and get her mind right. By late evening she'd be back sitting on the tarmac waiting for her flight to depart. Dick had been right, it was time to move on, there was nothing left for her here, she'd seen what she'd come to see, at least that's the lie she told herself.

As Artemis reached the far end of the borough heading towards the Narrows, she recognized a certain building off in the distance. Back in its heyday it was probably one of the nicer living complexes built in that era, until Gotham in all its wisdom decided to build an asylum just blocks away directly across the Gotham river. Once Arkham began accepting clientele, local residents couldn't move away fast enough. Now it was just another low rent apartment building in disrepair, probably worth more if the city would buy it and tear it down. However if she had her bearings correct, inside that complex might be just what she was looking for.

A former teammate, one she was not fond of in any sense, used to keep safe houses and weapons caches tucked away in different cities up and down the east coast. Rundown out of the way places where apartment owners would gladly accept rent for years in advance with no questions asked, and if Artemis wasn't mistaken she was looking at one of them right now.

Secure hideaways were hard to come by which is why most people never let go of them simply because you just never knew when you'd need one. The archer was hopefully this particular person had followed that same rationale.

She mentally counted the windows; digging deep into her memories to find the exact floor it was once located. When she discovered the newspaper covered windows she concluded that was the one. In the dim morning light she easily reached the fire escape unnoticed and scaled the stairs until she reached the 22nd floor. The archer peaked through a small tear in the paper. The apartment appeared barren and empty, just as she hoped. She was surprised to find the window unlocked considering the apartments likely contents, but just to be safe she carefully examined the frame for any pressure triggers or sensors. Once everything appeared clean she slipped in silently. As she stepped over the sill she kept her bow raised and began scouting the space. The room was sparse, with no apparent weapon caches to be found, only a musty old couch and empty bookcase used for decor. It had an odd dank smell about it, and when she opened the refrigerator and closed it just as quickly she knew why, as the whiff of spoilt food filled the room. The outside door to the apartment caught her eye; being steel reinforced with a double sided lock confirming her theory of the apartment's true nature. Unfortunately that also meant if things went south for any reason, the only entrance or exit would be through the window, so she kept it cracked slightly if needed.

Artemis sat down on the stale couch, stifling a yawn and placed her bag silently on the floor. The archer removed her heavy Kevlar boots and took out the civilian clothes she'd packed and neatly placed them on the arm of the couch. She stood, unzipped the black body suit and let it slide to the floor, quickly stowing it away and pulling out the hoodie and jeans she's packed for the crisp Gotham fall. She closed the bag and laid her crossbow across the top and settled back on the couch. Her eyes were heavy but before she could rest she'd have to contact the airlines and check for available flights. Just as she began entering the number she heard a feint sound emanating from the lone bedroom; laugher she thought. She cursed her fatigue and weakness for not checking it before as she's sat down. The archer grabbed her crossbow, cocked it, and headed back to the fire escape. Evidently she'd guessed wrong and there was no point in scaring its rightful occupants half to death.

As she opened the window and placed her bag on the fire escape, she spotted the gold arrow charm she wore, laying on the floor near the couch, most likely having slipped off her wrist as she changed. She cautiously slid over to pick it up just as the bedroom door opened and its very naked resident walked out laughing.

Roy Harper's face turned deathly white as he gazed at the intruder.

"Fuck!" they cursed in unison.

A/N - Thanks for reading. Reviews appreciated