Strangers in the Night
Beta: knottedblonde (bless you)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
There's a knock at the front door by the time Artemis' eyes snap open. It's sunny and bright, even with the thick drapes hanging over her windows. The light is a welcome presence for her, but the repulsive scent of blood mixed with antiseptic makes her nose scrunch up in discomfort. Her studio reeks of hospital, only less sanitary.
Artemis quickly realises that there is no way she's going to let anyone into this warzone, much less see the wings hanging off her back, carpenters on not, but then Wally's already shouting, "I'll get it!", so she decides to scramble for the bathroom instead.
Easier said than done. She forgets that she can't move as swiftly as she used to. Artemis falls to the ground in a heap just as the door opens and reveals four masked figures standing in front of her in utter disbelief. She can't see them now, of course, hair having tumbled all over her line of sight on her way down, but she's seen enough to know exactly who and what is standing on the threshold of her home: the Justice League.
The freaking Justice League is filing into her house, one by one, thanking Wally for allowing them inside like they know him. She realises with a jolt that these are the connections that he has. Not mafia, not gangsters, nor are they hitmen. They're superheroes. Wally West is on a nickname-basis with Earth's most prominent superheroes.
The Flash, she's used to – Batman, no way.
All the alarm bells are going off in her head, urging her to duck and hide, or conceal the suitcase carrying Venom in the crack beneath the floorboards while Daddy goes to answer the door. Artemis blinks. She remembers that Sportsmaster is long gone, probably off committing some heinous crime on the other side of the globe. She's safe; the League isn't a trigger warning for her anymore. Breathe, Artemis. Breathe.
Pulling her tresses away from her eyes, Artemis spots Wally walking back and forth from her fridge, accommodating the heroes with cups of the cheap orange juice she'd recently purchased for half price. They don't seem to register the obviously poor quality of the juice, nor do their noses wrinkle at the pungent scent emanating from her carpet.
All four of them: Batman, Nightwing, Hawkwoman, and the Flash, are staring at her inquisitively. She feels naked under their gazes, like they're all trying to peel off the layers of her skin, like they're trying to uncover all of her deepest, darkest secrets. Sadly, Artemis has those in surplus, most of which are highly relevant to the League – not that they know that, she hopes.
The Flash coughs pointedly, and all of a sudden Wally's gently prying her off the ground, making sure to avoid exacerbating any wounds on her arms, then helps settle her back onto her bed, this time sitting upright and facing them all.
Interestingly, Wally has a knack for alleviating awkward situations with witty repertoire and light-hearted jabs (which, honestly, freaks her out, because Batman doesn't seem to be the type who enjoys joking around), because soon Nightwing's starting to join in with Wally's conversation with the Flash.
"So," he addresses her, in an oddly familiar voice, "A little bird went nuts when he called me about your situation last night, I hope you don't mind that I've called some back-up; this isn't something that a simple renovation will fix, unfortunately." He gestures towards her wings with a gloved hand.
She gets his point, accepts the glass of juice and painkiller tablets that Wally shoves under her nose, downs them, and coughs a little. "I'll manage."
Batman's slitted eyes angle towards her. She gets the feeling that he recognises her from the few run-ins they'd had while she trained with Sportsmaster, but thankfully he doesn't comment on it. Artemis prays he doesn't remember her, because she left Gotham City to start over, and there's no telling what will happen if he opens that can of worms.
"Artemis Crock," he says, with an air of finality.
"Yes."
Hawkwoman interjects herself into the conversation. "Your wings are impressive."
"Thanks." Artemis notes the credibility of that statement.
It's not the first time Artemis has heard of Hawkwoman, but it's the first time she's seeing the woman up close and in real time. She's deeply impressed. There's a severe mask on her face, hawk-like and shimmering gold wherever the sunlight hits it. Overall, Artemis gets the feeling that Hawkwoman isn't someone she wants to mess with, seeing how there are muscles bulging out from underneath her battle-gear, and the metallic wings protruding from her shoulder blades look so sharp they can (probably) cut into diamond. Distantly, she wonders why Batman's summoning Hawkwoman - of all people - to show up in Kansas when there's so many other exciting places she can be, like Michigan, or Prague.
"Uh-"
"Safe to say you won't be at the Museum for a while, then?" The Flash interrupts her thoughts, ignoring Hawkwoman's irritated elbow-jap at his side. "Sorry. You could always pass your wings off as an elaborate costume. Early Halloween? It's still a month away." Batman shoots him a look. "Shutting up now."
She can't help but grin at the familiarity of his countenance. Everything around her is shifting and collapsing, but at least she knows that Central City's favourite hero moves at a constant speed. Flirty and flighty he may be, but Artemis finds herself unexpectedly reassured by his presence.
Deciding to angle for diplomacy, Artemis clears her throat and ignores the ache in her back. "So," her voice sounds unexpectedly hoarse when all four superheroes and Wally refocus their attention to her, "I think it's best that we address the elephant in the room. What brings four high-profile members of the Justice League to cosy Kansas?" And how? Artemis hadn't known that so many big-gun heroes could be so receptive to a civilian scientist. Clearly, Wally has much more influence than she's aware.
Batman, forgoing all formalities, wastes no time being as transparent and simultaneously vague as possible. "The League is interested in the necklace that your team excavated in Greece months ago, Miss Crock. We have reason to believe that it possesses magical properties - dangerous properties, should it be placed in the wrong hands - and as it stands, we know almost nothing else about it, save for what's right in front of us." He lets the implication of his words sink in.
"We're here to offer you a deal, or a partnership." Batman's tone softens slightly, yet still retaining the hard edge that she's come to associate with Gotham's Dark Night. "You've spent years of your life writing a dissertation on the influence of power on Greco-Roman art and scouring the globe for the very same information that the League is now looking for. Should you choose to help us, we can offer you rehabilitation, and protection."
She fidgets on her bed slightly, somewhat disconcerted by the onslaught of information. Judging by the nonplussed expressions of everyone else in the room, Batman's extensive periods of silence, peppered with outbursts of cold, hard facts, seem to be a 'thing'. She isn't sure if she finds that funny or not.
"Look," Artemis says after a brief pause, "I'm going to pretend that I'm not creeped out by how much you know about me." She really isn't, though. Anyone who knows anything in Gotham City knows that the Batman and his gang of Bat-children are the world's pantheon of detectives. "And I can help you, free of any charge. There's no reason why you should go out of your way to protect me when I'm hardly a target."
Because by now, Artemis knows well enough to steer clear of any unnecessary affiliations with the Justice League, lest any questionable family members manage to track her down and make her life a living Hell. Still, she's relieved to know that Batman is here for the knowledge that she's been researching for close to a decade, and not to arrest and accost her for her underground connections.
And then she sees the slight wince from the more expressive faction of her audience - namely the Flash - and looks at them curiously. "Unless, there's something else you need to tell me."
It becomes startlingly clear that Batman is the go-to man for the deliverance of bad news, because he immediately resumes his speech. "The Justice League isn't the only party that wants you, Miss Crock." He presses a button on his suit's wrist and shows her a holographic screen of the three specific words she'd been hoping to avoid for longer. "I assume you're familiar with the League of Shadows?"
There's a trickle of dread flowing down from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine, a feeling Artemis hasn't had creep up on her for years. "Yes," she replies, feeling her throat clamp up, "I am."
He's the only one who looks at her knowingly, and she suspects that her family isn't as underground as she would prefer anymore. Everyone else in the room seems to look scandalised, or shocked, or both. "So," Batman says with an air of finality, though the slits in his mask seem to vaguely express something more sympathetic. "Do we have a deal?"
Wally watches Batman's black cloak disappear behind Artemis' door with a sombre feeling in the pit of his stomach. Which is saying something, given that his stomach is widely considered to be bottomless.
Artemis is still upright on her bed as he turns around and realises one thing: he has no idea how to explain this entire situation to her. His connection to the League, the fact that as a civillian (to her), he really shouldn't be as aware of their operations as he should've been. But then again, the fact that Artemis had barely blinked an eyelash when Batman brought up the League of Shadows, or that Batman hadn't even needed to elaborate on their operations to her, was the one thing that hadn't stopped bugging him since she made a deal to join the League.
Join, in the unofficial, ward-of-the-Justice-League, sense. Not as a superhero.
Unless she wanted to be one.
He stares at the gigantic brown spot covering the majority of Artemis' carpet, yet to be cleansed or removed. It'll be problematic if someone unwittingly visits Artemis' studio and sees the portal to Hell emblazoned onto the floors. The cops might get involved, and thereby the media - he really doesn't want Aunt Iris to find out about Artemis' wings via the Police, and before he has a chance to explain the situation to her. Wally's hand runs down the length of his face.
And what was the League of Shadows' deal with Artemis anyway?
They'd all been debriefed about their task before they left for Central City: the Museum was holding an exhibition unveiling an artefact that the Flash had recovered, and their job was to protect it from harm. The curator was the second priority when they started, but now Wally's beginning to realise that Batman and Nightwing are being annoyingly unclear about their motives again - obviously Artemis Crock is a lot more than she lets on, and so far only they're the ones who really seem to know her. Her and her affiliation with the Shadows, the world's deadliest group of assassins.
He watches the wings protruding from her back move to the rhythm of her chest, fluttering lightly when she fidgets. It's then that he also realises that Artemis is fixing him a stare more scrutinising than Batman's trademark.
She opens her mouth and slams it shut a second later, as though she's deciding against something. Wally dearly hopes, on Einstein's grave, that she'll let go of whatever thought is clearly making her more upset by the second. He has literally been awake for twenty-eight hours without a sizeable amount of food in the past six, and so genuinely cannot handle an argument at this point in time.
"You-" she pauses and takes a deep breath as he tenses, "Who are you?"
"I'm Wally," he replies slowly. "Wally West? Do you have a concussion?" Wally reaches for her head. Artemis slaps his hand away.
"I mean, you're one of the hundreds of scientists who work at STAR Labs. How do you even know the Justice League?"
"The same way you do," he shoots back, mentally slapping himself, "I'm a big fan."
Artemis breathes out through her nostrils. "Big fans normally aren't on a nickname-basis with Batman," her eyes narrow at him, "Are you a spy?"
"I'm not a spy."
"Then how about you tell me how you happen to be able to call Earth's Mightiest Heroes over to Kansas - overnight?" He knows what her predicament is, what it looks like. In all honesty he wouldn't trust someone from highschool (who isn't Dick Grayson) who invites some of the biggest superheroes in the world to respond a small distress signal, either. Artemis' expression becomes stonier the longer he stays silent. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Hey - you're not exactly Little Miss Transparent either!" His foot flies into his mouth before he can catch it, and Artemis is already starting to glare at him, so Wally decides to Hell with it and runs ahead. "You didn't even blink when the Shadows came up! How do you know about them?"
"What I know is none of your business."
His jaw clenches at the hypocrisy. "Well, you don't see me launching the Spanish Inquisition against you - why should I tell you about the League?"
"Because you're living in my apartment, genius," she's standing up on her bed and glowering down at him like she really, really wants to punch him. "Which, by the way, I never wanted!" He blinks exactly once from the gust of wind that rushes through the studio and feels his expression harden into a glare.
"Fine," his voice doesn't come out as shaky as he feels internally, which he's thankful for. "But I was never here for you - I'm here for Iris."
Despite the bluntless of his words, the name seems to trigger a calming response in Artemis. Her eyes begin to look considerably less crazed, she exhales deeply, and her wings start to fold in. She's silent for a good few minutes, during which time Wally's anger ebbs away in small waves - enough to dissipate the uncomfortable feeling scratching its way up his chest but not enough to stop his face from burning. "Fine."
"Get some sleep," he walks over to the window that isn't next to her bed and throws it open. Its frame slams against the wall noisily, which neither of them bother commenting on. "I'm grabbing more bandages."
And going out for air. Wally shrugs on a coat and closes the door behind him - carefully, this time - before activating the alarm system he knows Nightwing installed just before the League were officially introduced into Artemis' studio. He isn't angry at her, per se. Just incredibly frustrated. He doesn't recall her being as confrontational in high school, and quickly amends that thought when he distinctly remembers her never talking to him for a decade.
And in any case, he'll be seeing her more frequently than she'd like for a while now - as Kid Flash, and not Wally West. The image of her connecting the dots and realising that she's been living with Kid Flash does not bode well in his stomach, which is obnoxiously grumbling by now. Wally passes a hotdog vendor and retracts his footsteps.
At the very least, before he stresses out over Artemis for another few weeks, he'll eat his weight in sausage.
Special shout-out to: Fritchman65, Artemis Raven Courtney, KitsuneGirl1994, Scarlet Lupin, YJFOREVER, Snow On The Wall, icanhearyouglaring, Eli-the-crockodile, kaylasamanthaalvarez, sunanak, Marie Truesight, Guest and fanofthisfiction, and all the lovely followers and favourites. Truly, you're all fantastic.