SOOOO...I LIED.
I'M VERY SORRY
But it looks like, after that season finale, things have been left unsaid, and need to written if we're not getting a new season.
Damn you Cartoon Network, damn you
So here's another one-shot, from Artemis's point of view, after the results of "Endgame" :'')
*inside emotional turmoil here*
please don't kill me
Disclaimer; Young Justice belongs to Cartoon Network and creators at DC Nation. If it belonged to me, we'd have a season 4 to infinity scheduled, and Wally would be hinted at to still being alive, just stuck in the force stream.
I could feel the inner mechanisms inside of myself begin to break.
Each little individual thread connecting my heart seemed to snap in half; gears shifting and grinding against one another, rusty bolts loosening, wires fraying and sparking as each began to decay from age and over-exertion.
To say I was exhausted was an understatement.
On the team, I wasn't even "Artemis" anymore. Like I told Impulse –err, I guess he's Kid Flash now—but "Artemis" was Wally's partner. Maybe it was for the better, I'd thought, just to let myself go and keep fighting as a part of myself than none at all. If I'd stayed as the Team's archer, "Artemis" would be a total fake. I wouldn't even be there.
Each shot, no matter how precise it may be in real life, would have been an arrow soaring a mile above the target.
I wanted to fight, I wanted to keep his memory alive, and not let his sacrifice be in vain. Barry had pulled off his mask in remorse, running home before Batman had a chance to debrief us on other circumstances going on with the Reach outside of our galaxy, or new hints at what the Light had in store for the Justice League and the Team.
Personally, Impulse taking on Wally's alias of "Kid Flash" tore through me like a bullet to the stomach.
A million little needles seemed to prickle up my arms, sweat glistening on my forehead, hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. With his red hair, and the gold and scarlet uniform, he really could have been Wally for a second.
All I needed was one second.
Just to say…something.
"Goodbye."
"I love you."
Or maybe to beg, to plead, to mercilessly pray to every known deity out there, for one last chance to see him.
To not be given a last will and testament from the lips of his uncle.
To not have to appear at his parents' house out of the blue, surprisingly alive, and not even be able to speak. Only to lift my head, meet their eyes, and start to cry.
It was ridiculous.
I'd strived to make myself strong, to not let even the smallest of wrinkles pull me back. Back when I first joined the team, I'd made sure that each thread had been pulled taught, like the metal strings on a guitar, and to never fail—to never break. The Artemis from back then never would have let something like this happen.
She never would have let it affect her, even when the Reds attacked and her friends were almost killed in front of her while she had a moment of pure cowardice in a ventilation shaft over ten feet above their heads.
She would have been the first to shoot the last arrow.
So why?
Why was it that one single, infernal, god-damned, petty, self-absorbed Baywatch, do this?!
To HER - the previous Artemis?
To ME?!
How could he leave me like that?!
I'm sitting in the living room of our apartment in Palo Alto.
Batman's been getting me out of class at Stanford – an extreme bout of the flu, or something – and I feel like I'm back in Gotham, attending a new private school with a full scholarship, re-meeting Richard "Dick" Grayson. One of my best friends – Nightwing really always did have my back, then and now.
He and I haven't talked much since…the incident. My phone buzzed about an hour ago, signaling an email. That's how he and I are holding up – emails.
It's sad when you know the only way your best friend and you can communicate is through email, or text. We can't even look each other in the eye anymore without really breaking down. Last time we saw each other, was when the stage of 'depression' (as Zatanna wanted to call it) hit that all I felt was endless fury.
I'd kicked him so hard, he'd hit the door, buckling it, throwing it backwards through its splintering frame, and rolled straight into Conner, who then proceeded to fall on top of Wolf before a mass ball of the Team's male members were tangled together into one spherical pretzel.
If I'd stayed focus on the anger and denial, I would have noticed how I ended up rolling on the ground laughing so hard it hurt to breathe.
In the end, while Zatanna worked to untangle the guys, M'gann took me to her room.
By then I'd stopped laughing. And started crying; I cried until my throat was raw, my eyes so swollen it hurt to blink, my nose stopped up and dripping, cheeks an angry slash of red.
"The zeta radiation proves she's alive!"
This was it; this was my failsafe. This was who "Artemis" was intended to be from the start; remaining strong, coherent, and never unnerved by the lack of a presence next to me. Nowadays, it lasted until I began to shatter.
That was about two weeks ago, now that I recall it.
I bite my lip, petting our pit bulls head, his somber expression making me roll my eyes. Since Wally never came home, my little buddy had gone to sleeping at the foot of his side of the bed. Every night, before I fell asleep, I hugged his pillow to my chest and just breathed.
His scent –however faint—was still there, and I was trying to make it last for as long as I could. Other times, I took one of his old shirts out of the drawers and laid it over my own pillow, falling asleep to a dream that could have been real.
Feeling his arms warm around me, his face buried in my hair, nose trailing along my neck; messy red locks would tickle my face and I'd laugh against his chest, forgetting there ever was a team, that there ever was an "endgame."
The dog snorts, giving me a look that I took as "how dare you only pet my head, peasant," before turning and trotting into the bedroom, successfully kicking it closed behind him. I swear, sometimes that dog is turning into a canine-version of Wally. Minus all the food-whoring the latter always committed.
One thing I don't miss is the food bill from the grocery store.
But I guess I'd take twenty of those bills in one sitting than glancing around a fairly empty, quiet apartment with only a dog for company.
I sigh, and lean back into the couch, knees curling up in front of me. I wrap my arms around them, falling onto my side, hiding my face in a pillow. Taking a deep breath, I scream. Every word, every nickname, curse, resentment, lonely thought is put into that one scream, leaving me breathless. I sit back up, take another deep breath, and feel that hollowing in my chest again.
Maybe I really was depressed.
Missions were falling slack; Nightwing was taking leave from the Team, M'gann still wasn't too sure if I needed space or someone to talk to, Zatanna was giving me room to breathe, Kaldur and Roy were suffering majorly as well.
Hell, even Connor, Cadmus's greatest creation when it came to creating a creature with a total disregard to emotions, could tell I needed space in the end. He'd given me a wan smile, the tiniest of hugs, a light pat on the back, and an "it'll be okay," before backing off and rejoining M'gann and everyone else.
"Thinking about all of this is making me nauseous," I moaned out loud. Shutting my eyes and turning onto the opposite side, facing the back of the couch. "What I need is a pint of ice cream, a hell-bent, gut-wringing, fantastic movie where all the characters do is kick ass, the dog to stop howling, and PEOPLE. I DON'T NEED SPACE!" I shouted, frustration echoing in my tone as I ran my hands through my hair, wringing the gold locks into tight bunches, knotting it to the point it looked like a rats nest.
A knock on the door startled me, a hesitant, soft little thing that made me blink, lowering my hands from my head and pushing myself up onto my knees.
Silence.
Then it came again, just the tiniest bit stronger, but still so faint that if I'd had the television on, I never would have heard it. I bite my lip, cocking my head, before waiting for the third knock. When it came, I sighed, moving to my feet and pulling at the loose sweatshirt covering my torso, straightening the gray yoga pants covering my legs, and pulling my hair into a loose bun, hoping it looked like I'd only just gotten out of bed instead of having a mental breakdown on the couch.
A fourth knock, and now I was getting frustrated as I made my way to the door. If it was some drunk-ass college guy from Stanford, come to hit on the emotionally-unstable girl who'd lost her boyfriend in a freak accident, an arrow was going where no man would want one to appear.
Ah, manhood. So easily crushed, like dreams of magical fairies, or wishes cast on a shooting star.
If wishing on a shooting star was really all it would take, I'd take Batmans rocket and fly myself to the moon and let myself be pulverized by an asteroid or a burning ball of hot gas flying through the earth's atmosphere, if it could bring him back.
Some super-star must have been looking out for me then, because when I twisted the knob open, I found myself staring into emerald green eyes, matched with a shock of red hair that spiked messily around his face.
Surprise would never be the word to cover what I was feeling in the thirty seconds since I'd opened the door.
After a minute of complete silence, he smiled, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. A sleek black car hummed behind him, tinted windows up and hiding whoever was in the front seat.
"Hey," he rasped, before coughing into his hand and clearing his throat. "How's it going?" Been what, half a year now?"
My mouth had dropped open, horrified shock draining the color from my face as my hands fell slack at my sides. I didn't even blink, only stared at the image in front of me.
Wally pursed his lips, uncertainty showing on his face as he glanced at my expression, gaze shunting to the side. "Look, Artemis, I know it's a hell-of-a surprise to see me, but you could at least be happy, or smile, or say something. Shit, call me 'baywatch' at least and stop staring at me like a fish out of water.
My vision blurred, sinuses stinging to the point that if this wasn't real, that if this was some dream I'd made up in my head after falling asleep on the couch, I was done. Done with everything. With the Team, with the Justice League, with Stanford, with living by myself in the home we'd shared.
Reluctantly, I raised a hand, reaching out to touch his arm. His gaze met mine again at the touch, and my fingers curled around his shoulder. My lip trembled, and he gave that same sardonic smile that I'd fallen for, opening his arms. I fell into them, my own wrapping around his torso as I cried into his chest, sputtering each and every word that came to mind.
"This is real," I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut, arms tightening around him.
He responded by hugging my tighter as well, lips pressing against my forehead. "This is real, babe. I'm back."
"You're alive,"
"This is true. I'm hoping Barry never said I was dead."
"B-but, you, you disappeared…! Barry and Bart saw you!"
"This is true, too. The kinetic energy in the end was too much for my body to hand, so it separated. Surprisingly, it was like being sucked into a zeta beam but being forced to stay in that state, where you didn't even had a solid form, I was just a million little particles floating through space in a condensed cloud of fog. When Dick found me – "
"Wait, Dick found you? When?!" I pulled away, lifting my face to stare into his eyes again, brows narrowing.
He laughed nervously, raising a hand to scratch his cheek. "About a week ago…"
"A week…! What the HELL Wally?! You've been in existence for an entire WEEK and you just now –"
"Babe, Artemis, listen. I would have come sooner, God I would have. But when Dick found me, I could hardly remember his name, nonetheless walk. I've been in the Watchtower the entire time, stuck in a hospital bed, hooked up to IV's, with Barry threatening to kill me for scaring him like that before being dragged away by ol' Bats. One morning, I woke up, and Dick was there, in all his secret-identity-hidden-by-sunglasses glory, grinning at me like the biggest idiot, and I remembered everything."
"That's not far from the truth actually," a voice said behind me, making me jump.
The top of my head rammed into Wally's jaw and he stumbled backwards, muttering curses at his best friend and in my direction as I turned on my heel, ignoring the sudden rush of pain.
Dick stood against the wall behind me, the pit bull at his side, panting happily, blue eyes twinkling from a sarcastic smirk adorning his lips.
"Richard Grayson, you ASSHOLE." I growled, fingers flexing into claws.
He gave a short laugh, one that reminded me of the thirteen-year-old hacker I'd first met five years ago who came up with ridiculous catch-phrases. He raised his hands, an innocent – yet somehow still infuriating – expression on his face. "Guilty as charged," he laughed.
I gnawed at my bottom lip, narrow gaze set upon the protégé in front of me before flickering to the red-headed speedster who had moved to wrap his arm around my shoulders. I sighed resignedly, shoulders slumping in defeat. All of a sudden, I felt exhausted, even more-so than when I'd opened the door to the one guy I could never stop thinking about.
"Is this seriously not a dream?" I finally said in a low voice. "If it is, or this is some weird kind of hologram, or Cadmus experiment, Richard Grayson, your manly pride will cease to exist."
Both boys looked at me incredulously, before their expressions softened. I would be always be Artemis, however caustic, murderous, content, or broken I appeared.
"Yeah, this isn't a dream. It's real life, and the Wall of Stupid is still your boyfriend. He's just as dense as he was before, and may still forget yet another Valentine's Day." Dick confirmed once again, grinning as he crossed his arms.
Wally snorted, squeezing my shoulder. "I'm back, and I'm here to stay, no other choice or option."
I could feel the remains of my fury dissipate, heart swelling with love, adoration, and…fulfillment, for lack of a better word. My life wasn't a cup half full as I took in the sight of my boyfriend – the one guy I'd ever want, ever need – and our best friend.
"So, how'd the rest of the team react?" I finally asked, crossing my arms with a smile. "Or have they not seen you yet?"
The guys exchanged a look, both visibly paling, Dick tugging at the collar of his shirt nervously. All the answer I really needed.
"…oh…" one said.
"…shit…" the other finished.
This time, I laughed, a genuine peal of bells that made Wally blush and Dick wish that he'd brought his camera.
Maybe there really was something to wishing on stars.
DAMN this is a lot longer than I'd initially thought I'd make it out to be, holy crap!
I had fun writing this though, despite its utter lack of fluff...though it had its moments towards the end I guess.
If you can't tell, I really miss Young Justice.
And this crazy little thing called Spitfire.
There was a whole lot of angst and heartbreak in season 2 when there should have been a continuation filled with questions being answered, lives being changed for the better,
certain speedsters making surprise appearances that sends the fangirls swooning,
all that junk.
( just so you know, I ship Spitfire, Zatanna and Nightwing, M'gann and Connor, and oddly enough Wonderbeetle.
How the crap did Cassie end up with Tim? )
Well, hoped you guys liked! It's after midnight as I'm writing this, so I apologize for any mistakes!
If you liked it, please review! And feel free to submit ideas, I'll be more than happy to work on some :)
See you around!
~ Aoi~