Strangers in the Night
Beta: knottedblonde
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Night time.
The final group of patrons swarm out into the open air before the Museum's designated security guards shut the door behind them. Artemis walks through the inside briskly, making sure that everything's locked and secured so that the night cleaners have an easier job when they arrive. Technically, she really doesn't need to do this at all, but it's her first night and she can't help but revel in the day's afterglow.
Finally reaching the doorway leading to the necklace, she leans on the threshold, extracting the remote controlling the display case so that she can finally close it for the night.
"I wouldn't press that button if I were you."
Artemis freezes.
"Good girl," the voice is a deep timbre that sends shivers of fear down her spine. Get a grip, bird brain, you're tougher than this. She can't move. "Now, let's make this easy: you lower the remote, step aside and act like none of this ever happened. I walk away with the necklace and you walk away with that pretty face of yours still connected to your body. It'll be a win-win situation, blondie." He finishes off his sentences airily.
How did the man even get in, or sneak past the guards, for that matter? Artemis tentatively sneaks a glance at the perpetrator and widens her eyes in shock when she spots a familiar mane of white hair and pale, icy skin. Cam; but what's up with the gun?
She immediately steels herself, now that she's put a face to her attacker. It's been a while since she's had to brawl her way out of a situation, and sure, the gun in his hands complicates the situation a little more, but Artemis Crock doesn't back down from a fight. Not when her entire family is comprised of criminal masterminds.
Cam starts to tap his foot impatiently. "Alright, seems like you want to do this the hard way." He inches forward, gun still positioned at his front, until he's a good metre away from Artemis. "People don't mess with me, sweet cheeks, and I don't think it's wise for you to either."
She smirks. "Oh, goodie. So you've grown a pair of balls now?" Swivelling around, Artemis swiftly disarms him with a well-aimed crescent kick, sending the gun sliding to the other side of the room. Thanks to the heels, her landing isn't as smooth as Artemis would like, but the dawning look of fear on Cam's face is worth the flaw. Just like old times. "I guess not," her hoarse voice tries to taunt him when he connects his gaze with hers, "my dead grandma has a stronger grip than you."
She feels her stomach lurch dreadfully when his expression starts to morph into one of fury. "Artemis, why am I not surprised? You're still running away from home like a lost kitten." His skin crackles menacingly as his cheekbones become more angular and take on a bluer, (literally) icier tint. "Central City's a little tame for us, don't you think?"
Well, that's new.
"Then why are you here, of all places?" She presses down on the remote defiantly, watching the colour drain from Cam's face with pleasure. It's relatively short-lived, however, when he seizes her by the collar and hurls her through the glass before the metal casing of the column fully closes.
Artemis hisses when she feels tiny shards of glass dig into her skin like metal claws. The necklace is lying directly in front of her, having been knocked off its platform during the crash. She latches onto it for dear life, feeling its polished edges comfort her just as a sharp icicle begins to protrude from Cam's arm. If this necklace is as powerful as the ancient Greeks claim it is, then she could sure use that power right now.
Cackling malevolently, Icicle Junior strides towards her strewn body with a deranged smirk on his features. "Unlike you, I live for the thrill of the fight." He reaches towards her clenched fists, then retracts his icicle-hand and replaces it with a sharper blade. She realises his intention all too quickly, and tries to get up to her feet, but it's useless. She can barely move with the blood racing out of her lacerations, not to mention all the bruises forming at her sides. Cam laughs again. "Little Miss Crock," he says mockingly, "Looks like your sports-daddy isn't here to protect you anymore. Then again, it's not like he ever tried." He raises his arm-blade. "Babe, I know how much you love archery, but- well, you can kiss that and your hand goodbye now."
Artemis grits her teeth, begging her legs to cease their catatonia. "Go to hell, jerkface." She looks straight into her childhood friend's stupid, stupid eyes defiantly. If he's going to cut her hands off, so be it, but she swears to herself that she won't wink an eyelash when he does. It seems to make him angrier; Artemis really can't care less.
A streak of red and yellow suddenly appears and knocks Cam backwards. He and the streak fly into the huge classical column lining the entrance, leaving a noticeable dent in its side. She gawks, then notices the trickling sensation of a blood trail moving down the length of her right arm, and has to blink a few times to stay in focus. There's probably blood oozing down her face from where she felt a larger shard cut into her forehead, and her favourite suit is probably soaked through in her fluids at the moment. On the other hand, her hands are still intact, so that's one silver lining.
Artemis blinks. Where the hell is security?
The red and yellow bolt darts across the room, knocking down a few priceless cases in the process, but this barely registers in her mind, because hell – Cam is Icicle Junior? How has she never figured that out before? PhD, her ass.
Seeing their blurry outlines engaged in a brutal brawl, Artemis takes this opportunity to use her trembling arms to push herself away from the scene of violence, gritting her teeth harder when she feels more shards slice through her skin through her suit. "Fuck," she mutters to herself, then notices the distinct lack of head-to-toe red that is the Flash's super suit. The man knocks Icicle Junior out cold with a series of super-speed punches and kicks before zooming directly into her field of vision.
"Ma'am," he calls out to her urgently. What pretty green eyes. Artemis sees his mouth moving rapidly and barely notices him holding up two gloved fingers.
"I come in peace," she feebly lifts two fingers and starts to mumble incoherently. Her arms are beginning to feel like jelly, and she lets out a sigh now that the pain is fading. "Huzzah!"
"Ma'am, we need to get you to a hospital." His arms delicately haul her up into a bridal position; she feels his gloved hands adjust her head onto a smooth surface, before everything erupts in a sea of clear, blue light.
"Mrs Iris West-Allen?"
Iris jumps to her feet immediately, starting Wally out of his sleep and knocking a cup of black coffee onto his pants. He doesn't scream, because it's surprisingly cold for a cup that he swears he brewed a few minutes ago.
11.59 PM.
Scratch that; more like two hours ago.
"Yes?" His aunt's blood-shot, red-rimmed eyes are already encased by dark bags that are seconds away from drooping over her cheekbones. "That's me."
The nurse smiles sympathetically. "The patient is in a stable condition," both Wally and Iris release shaky sighs of relief, "Weak, but stable enough to be discharged tomorrow morning, at most in two days' time. I trust that, as her former guardian, you'll be able to make your own living arrangements for her? I'm afraid she needs a few weeks of rest before she can work again, and the doctors don't advise her to be living alone during those weeks."
The tired reporter nods complacently.
"I suggest that you catch up on some sleep too, Iris. You look like a dead panda." The nurse offsets this comment with a jocular smile and walks off.
"I'm going to pop into her ward for a second, then head home. Can you make sure that she's settled in for the night for me?" She runs a shaky hand through her auburn hair while absentmindedly staring at her nephew, who nods. "Thank you, Wally," she pats his cheek lovingly, "For everything."
He finds himself shutting the door to Artemis Crock's room a few minutes after Iris leaves the hospital with her husband. The smell of disinfectant and hospital-grade food immediately washes over his nostrils while the sight of Artemis' sleeping, bandaged form on the bed prompts him to edge towards her cautiously.
Wally remembers seeing her blood pouring out of the cuts marring her skin, and all over the granite floors. He remembers seeing Icicle Junior get locked down in cuffs by the museum's security guards – they should've been awake for this, dammit – and a blinding flash of blue light emanating from her hand as he ran like hell to Central City's hospital.
He walks over to where's she slumbering peacefully, a sleep induced by the anaesthetics injected into her body, before gently lifting her hand. Wally almost drops it in shock, because now there's an engraving making its way up her arm from the tips of her fingers, crawling beneath the surface in a way that's alive and totally freaky.
"Oh no," he frantically flails his arms around, unsure of how to deal with the situation. Calming down slightly, he presses down on the button of his earpiece, calling Dick and Zatanna's temporary headquarters – namely, Aunt Iris's guest room. "Nightwing, we have a problem."
"Whoa. KF, what's the sitch?" He hears a chair squeaking and swivelling around and the crinkling of candy wrappers on the other side. "Baby Ice is still behind bars – guy hasn't even moved a muscle."
"No," Wally brushes him off, painfully aware that the markings are starting to glow. "It's not him. It's Art-the curator. Whatever. You need to get down here."
With a puff of smoke, Zatanna appears in the room with Dick at her side. "What the hell?" She runs to Artemis's side and runs a dainty finger down the arm, mumbling a few strange words to herself while making Eye Contact with Dick. Wally focuses on the frown appearing on Artemis' face. "I've never seen something like this before. Do you think-"
She glances at Dick again, who whips out his scanning device. "Let's hope so, or else we'll have nothing to go on from."
"What are you two on about?" Wally interrupts.
"Magic," he hates it when Zatanna's being vague, "She might be turning into an angel." Dick's scanner moves down Artemis' arm as Wally temporarily stops moving.
"It's in Ancient Greek; I suspect," Dick pauses for impact and looks at him, "they're the same words that you showed me on the necklace's engraving."
"Hello, Zatanna," she hits herself on the side of her head, "It's obvious: if the necklace is rumoured to be a source of great power, then, judging by what we're seeing here and the things you've witnessed, Wally: she's going to be a- a something."
"Right," he feels his temper rising, "and I'm supposed to believe that? That's not even possible! Magic isn't even real!"
"Quit yelling," she rolls her eyes, blue eyes still fixated on her friend's arm, "You're pretty close-minded for a guy who can break the sound barrier in his sneakers." He sputters indignantly, turning to Dick and arguing his case to him instead. Zatanna silences them a few moments later.
"It's stopped moving." By now, all of the letters are spread out along the backs of her arms and resting underneath the layers of her bandages and hospital robes. Wally's agitation dies down when he sees Artemis' face relax again.
Zatanna takes several minutes to fluff up Artemis' pillows and refill her water jug before turning to face them. "Someone needs to watch over her, obviously. The necklace is gone, probably absorbed by her when you saw that blue light, if my assumptions are correct, and Boss would probably throw us into cages if we leave her be."
"Most likely," Dick adds.
"She can't stay at Uncle Barry's place - there's too much junk lying around there." They catch onto his meaning, then send him their iconic double-evil grins. Oh, he does not like the look of those.
"Why don't you stay with her at her place?" Zatanna suggests airily.
"Yeah, that's a great idea!" says Dick, "You catch keep an eye on her for the mission, and take care of her for a few weeks while she's healing!"
"Why can't you do it, Zatanna?"
"Too busy," she says simply. Dick nods along with her, citing the same reasons. "I'm the manager, remember?"
He grumbles. "I doubt she'll be receptive to this. She used to kick ass on the volleyball team back in high school."
"That was ten years ago." Dick crosses his arms and leans against the wall. Wally's all too aware of how hung-up he is over his high-school crush, now that she's suddenly back in his life. It's not the first time he's realised how absolutely unhealthy it is to continue his obsession all over again. "Totally irrelevant. Be professional, Wall-man, your stupidity's starting to hurt my brain." Smirking, his friend starts typing into his stupid arm-computer like the nerd he is, while Zatanna sends him an amused glance.
"Yeah, and you could always just get your Aunt to propose it," she shrugs. "You're pretty nervous about this for someone who's almost hitting his thirties."
He sputters again, but doesn't reply. Dick finishes doing his stupid nerd thing. "Batman approved it."
"Great," Wally replies, somewhat sarcastically. Okay, a lot sarcastically.
But in all seriousness, how's he supposed to feel? Elated? He isn't so desperate that he'd leap at the opportunity to spend time with the maybe-girl-of-his-dreams in her own apartment, for a few weeks (or possibly more).
Who would feel happy about that anyway?
Guest, ethereal skies, KitsuneGirl1994 and icanhearyouglaring, thanks so much for your feedback. Truly, it has all been fantastic. Also, to the followers and favouriters, you are all amazing people!