Chapter Three

How did I get here? the blonde kept asking herself as she haphazardly glanced through the menu while Dick Grayson had excused himself to take a call. There were no prices anywhere to be found and Artemis realized it was probably for the best. One night of fine dining at this place was probably equivalent to two or more weeks of her salary… at least. She had her almost maxed-out credit cards ready just in case, but felt secure that Mr. Grayson….Dick… wouldn't have invited her just to go dutch.

She knew life in Gotham would be hectic, but she never dreamed it would move this fast. One minute she's finishing up marketing reports and the latest Nikkei analysis, the next minute she's involved in billion dollar mergers, being asked questions and her opinions of rival companies presentations and holdings. Things like this just didn't happen, not to someone with her back ground.

xxx

It was less than year and a half ago that she graduated college and took the entry level position at Queen Consolidated, the one her college guidance counselor Ms. Lance had set up by calling in a few favors.

Looking in the mirror before her first day, wearing the business suit her mom had sown, Artemis remarked at the image staring back at her, a far cry from the teenager who spent almost as much time in juvenile detention as she did at home, if you could ever truly call it that.

She was the wayward daughter of Lawrence Crock, aka Crusher Crock, aka Sportsmaster. A violent local criminal and bagman as well as strong arm to whatever crime boss paid the most. That life was all she and her sister had ever known. By the time Artemis was eight shed's already joined her father on several outings, namely heists, collections, and on occasions…robberies.

Paula Crock was no saint herself, but the day she caught Artemis and Jade in a lie about where they'd been, when she discovered that Crusher had brought their children into the life, she vowed to herself that as soon as she got the chance, she would take her daughters as far away as she could from this violent man and never look back. Her oldest daughter beat her to it and Jade ran away at the age of fifteen.

Then came the accident.

There was no food in the cupboards, the refrigerator empty. Paula reluctantly agreed to join her husband on a quick smash and grab, and of course the young eager blonde tagged along. It was either that or starve, and Paula quietly cried all the way to the job, knowing Artemis had as little a choice as she did.

Crusher was sure the Jewelry Store owner was unarmed, all the way up to the point where the jeweler's Smith and Wesson 22 revolver was aimed directly at his daughter head. Lawrence hesitated while Paula did not, shoving her daughter out of the way and providing them an escape, while she stayed behind. That night Paula Crock took the rap but more importantly took a bullet as well. A year and a half jail sentence was nothing compared to spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair.

After flattening out her prison sentence, Paula retuned home and tried her best to give Artemis some sort of stability, normalcy, while her husband berated her, day in and day out for being sloppy and unprofessional. The reason they lived in squalor was all because of her he blamed, not his drinking and gambling, but Artemis knew the truth. Her mother had sacrificed everything to save her, while her father would have abandoned her to take the rap, confident that the justice system would be more lenient on a teenager than it would with someone with his criminal record, but his time was soon running out.

Artemis could still clearly remember the day of her high school graduation as her dad was escorted out from the school assembly kicking and screaming by more cops than you'd find at a Duncan Donuts. Star City detectives had finally acquired enough DNA evidence to pin years' worth of thefts, burglaries, and violent crimes on the man known as Sportsmaster.

She never cried once, not at the taunting and ridicule of her classmates, not at their eviction from the apartment they lived, or even when she and her crippled mother were forced to move into the government housing projects in an area of town no teenager should be living. Never once did she shed a tear.

Paula made her apply to schools despite knowing full well that the teen didn't have the grades or money to peruse any form of higher education. While her mother worked temp jobs at night just to keep the family afloat, the blonde spent most evenings on the rooftop, trying to find her place in the world and dreaming of a future, any future.

If only Jade would have taken me with her she longed.

A sad consequence of growing up in the "life" was a pretty good understanding and familiarity with weapons. It was common place for guns and ammunition to be scattered all across the Crock household back in the day. It was only a matter of time before daddy taught his little girls how to use them. Artemis hated guns, hated the sound they made as they echoed throughout the neighborhoods she grew up in, or when she saw the byproduct of their use splattered across her father's jacket after he would come home late at night from "work."

She preferred the crossbow, an elegant and silent weapon, more in line with her Asian heritage than some crude pistol. She wasn't a prodigy, but she was close. All she needed was a little instruction, but her mother refused. Never in a million years could she have guessed who would eventually provide it.

It was a cold overcast night in Star. Artemis was sitting outside on the fire escape, her exhausted mother having fallen asleep hours ago. She sat crouched down, knees to her chest, headphones plugged into the iPod she had "found" when she saw the woman go flying across the room through the window of the housing complex across from her. Artemis watched the young mother as she rose to her feet, watched as the giant hands of her husband grabbed her and pulled her away from the door, preventing her escape. She saw the man with her father's eyes, the same hate, the same intent.

Artemis never remembered much after that moment, just fleeting glimpses; the sensation of flying as she jumped from the fire escape, the crescendo of breaking glass when she smashed through the apartment window, his vice like grip as he knocked her weapon away and began crushing the her windpipe, the blinding light when her forehead met his as the teen attempted to escape his hold, the suffocation she felt when her body slammed up against the cold concrete wall knocking the remaining breath from her, and finally the color green.

A gloved emerald hand pulled her safely away from her assailant, laying her gently down next to the man's beaten wife as the blonde fought to stay conscious. She remembered the hooded figure beating the man so severely he sobbed like a child begging forgiveness, but the object that stuck out the most was the arrow, its razor tip gleaming bright while it rested on the abuser's throat. Artemis recalled the sensation of being carried before finally blacking out.

She awoke later that night on the rooftop of her own complex, a note folded neatly in her pocket with instructions of where and when to meet if she actually wanted to learn how to use the weapon she was never able to unsheathe. That was the day a unique apprenticeship began.

Names were never exchanged, though she felt confident he knew hers. Instructions and lessons were given, warm tea on cold nights, counsel for a teen trying to break away from a past she regretted, just sometimes good company, someone who didn't judge her for the life she was born into. The vigilante never acknowledged the silly moniker the media gave him, but he never corrected her when she called him Arrow. Things started moving fast then and they never stopped.

A scholarship arrived within weeks to a small private college just north of the city, money was consistently deposited into a checking account to cover minor expenses for both her and her mother. When she and the vigilante would meet to train, Artemis would tell the hooded figure she didn't need his money, but his I don't know what you're talking about look was amusing and kind of charming.

She asked to patrol with him, but he'd refuse. "I don't do partners well" or "Focus on your school work," were his responses, but that never stopped her. She would sneak out of the dorms from time to time to use the skills she had learned; eventually meeting up with him on a rooftop somewhere, but still took his advice and within three years carrying a 3.6 GPA graduated with a major in business and two minors. The job at Queen Consolidated shortly followed, and today she sat in one of the finest restaurants in Gotham City, discussing a job that had been created specifically for her. Artemis hoped the vigilante knew how thankful she was for his help; she never got to tell him in person after she left her job at Queen. She looked for him at night with no success before leaving Starling City, but kept up with his exploits on the internet after that. She hoped he was proud of her.

xxx

Artemis flipped through the pages of the menu, looking for something that wouldn't break the bank no matter how wealthy her date was. It's not a date she assured herself. No matter how gorgeous Dick Grayson was, he did not seem like the kind of guy who dated employees, even though she did get a vibe that something was going on between him and Zatanna that was not just strictly business.

It definitely wasn't an attempt to sleep with her, he could have his choice of women from all over the world, but if even for a second he thought she was now his property, he would have her two weeks' notice shoved so far up his ass he'd be able to taste the ink.

There was just something about him though; she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Artemis heard the chair pull out from behind the menu and the figure sat down across for her.

"Just be yourself," she kept repeating in her mind, "but a cooler, nicer, friendlier, saner….aw screw it,… just don't embarrass yourself" Artemis finally settled for.

Dick had asked her to choose the wine before he left to take the call, and when she lowered the menu hoping she'd made a semi educated guess, green eyes stared back at her.

"Hey beautiful, fancy meeting you here. You ordered yet?" Wally asked.

Artemis felt her hands begin to shake as all the blood rushed from her face and her temples began to ache.

This is not happening; this is not happening she screamed in her mind.

Today had been the most important day in her professional career. She was dining with the vice president of the company, they were going to eat fine food, drink fine wine and discuss her future, people would see her with one of People Magazines sexiest men of the year, maybe even have her picture plastered on some New York society rag she could clip out and send back to the bitches she went to high school with, there was no way on earth she was actually sitting across from the mail guy.

"What in the fuck are you doing here?" she growled quietly through gritted teeth.

"Um.. eating dinner? or about to at least. What's good? Hey! Why don't you pick us out an appetizer? I looovee cheese sticks!" Wally beamed and then tapered off turning his menu upside down in frustration, "But I don't exactly see them on here. Maybe they've got a kid's menu or something"

Artemis reached down to her black stilettos, making sure they were strapped on as tight as possible, and sought out the red head's shin out and kicked him as hard as she could.

"Oww!" he yelled loud enough for a few patrons to glance over at the mismatched couple before going back to their own conversations and meals. Wally pulled his leg up and massaged his shin.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked innocently, tinges of pain escaping from his eyes.

"You have got to go. Now!" she demanded trying to keep her voice just below her fellow patron's radar. "I've put up with this whole morning coffee thing just to be nice, but this is a whole new level of creepy. I'm not playing anymore jack ass. You need to get it through your thick skull. I don't like you. You creep me the fuck out. I don't want to be your friend or anything else and I mean anything else. I'm only going to say this one more time…"

"Wally?" he said encouragingly, hoping to spark her memory so she would remember his name.

"I don't give a shit what your name is; just please for the love of God…leave."

"Ummm excuse me?" Dick Grayson spoke standing above the red head, finally returning from his call to find his seat taken.

"Well this is awkward," Wally sighed, looking around the restaurant for the maître d. "I'm sure they have another chair they can send over if you want to join us, but we were just about to order. Your timing kinda sucks dude."

"Artemis? Do you know this guy?" Dick questioned.

"Artemis!" Wally announced, head palming himself, "Awesome name! I had you pegged as a Matilda or a Beatrice, but I really like Artemis. Goddess of something right? Just give me a second I'll get it."

He pulled out his iPhone and did a quick wiki search when he looked up at the tall brunette scowling and the blonde's eyes watering.

"Please leave," she said almost on the verge of tears, she hated tears. This night was supposed to be the first step in her new life in Gotham, and it was dissolving away second by second.

"All you had to do was ask beautiful." He stood up from the table, putting his crumpled napkin on the plate. He turned to face the businessman. "Hey! You're Dick Grayson right? that rich guy who works in my building. Wow! Small world." Wally shrugged, pulling his seat out so Grayson could take it.

"You be good to my girlfriend now ok? No funny business. She's not that type of girl. Anyway you kids have fun. Artemis remember no means no in any language.. Later taters."

Artemis covered her mortified face in her hands while Dick watched the red head stroll out of the restaurant. Dick reached over to the empty table beside him and retrieved a fresh napkin while depositing the one the ginger had laid in his lap, hoping to push past the awkwardness of the last few minutes.

Artemis was nauseous, swallowing hard to keep the bile from raising any farther in her throat. She kept hoping any second now she'd wake up in her bed to find the whole day had been some kind of dream. As excited as she to have been part of the merger, she would gladly give it up to erase the last few minutes from their collective consciousness and go back to her job in the bullpen. She opened her eyes and finally found the courage to look at Grayson, surprised to see the calm, almost amused expression on his face.

"Mr. Grayson, I am sooooo sorry," she begged. "I'm not his girlfriend, I don't even know him. Ok I know him a little because he comes into the muffin shop every morning and tries to hit on me, but I don't know him-know him. He's like the mail guy over at Wayne Towers. Every morning he brings me coffee and I tell him to stop and leave me alone but it only encourages him. And every time I think he finally understands, he just comes back the next day like nothing happened and starts this shit all over again, and I just…."

Artemis felt her control waning and her composure slipping. "I just want to beat him to a bloody pulp until it sinks in and he leaves me alone before I take him to the Jersey Shore and bury his body next to Jimmy Hoffa…."

"Artemis…." Dick calmly tried to interrupt.

"I mean who wears a lab coat to deliver the mail? Come on really? Are you that desperate for attention? I should have realized it the first time I said hello back to him and then he pulled up a chair that I had screwed up royally, but I was trying to go against type and just be nice for once, but all I did was invite crazy to come over and play, maybe buy a house next to me," she vented uncontrollably.

Dick's mouth opened to interrupt, but the blonde never took a breath.

"He's a full-fledged nut job stalker, and I should never have talked with him the first place, but I seem to attract that element and I don't know why, maybe it's my perfume. Now I'm having dinner with my boss trying to impress him and he's just seen ten types of batshit crazy come flying out of me, and all I want to do is just start this whole day over, maybe the month…"

Dick reached over and took her hands and squeezed them in hopes of calming her down.

"It's ok…. Look at me Artemis," he pleaded squeezing her hands again, "It's ok. I know all about this guy," he sighed.

The blonde regained her composure and straightened up in her chair. "You're kidding right?" she asked surprised. "You're the VP of one of the biggest companies in the world. You play golf with guys like Bill Gates and Larry Ellsion and you actually want me to believe you know the mail guy?"

"Unfortunately," Dick sighed.

"Unbelievable. Is there any chance you could….I don't know…. maybe fire him? I'll work nights, weekends, whatever it takes. No one has to know right? It will save me from having to dig a shallow grave for him."

Artemis stopped mid-sentence with a horrified look on her face that she had just told her boss she might have homicidal tendencies

"I'm kidding, you know that right?"

"I know," Dick chuckled, almost savoring the thought of the ginger's demise, "but as far as firing him, I wish I could sometimes, but unfortunately he doesn't' work for me."

"I thought all mail and custodial systems fell under Wayne," she asked, kind of surprised that tidbit from the orientation seminar and subsequent handbook had stuck with her.

"They do, it's just… well…he's not the mail guy," Dick sighed pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation with the red head.

"What?" she asked curiously.

Dick twisted his neck with an audible crack, trying to relieve the tension that had suddenly built up there in the last ten minutes before finally rubbing his hand through his hair in weariness.

"His name's Wally West, actually Dr. Wallace West. He's one of the chief geneticists over at Lord Omniversal Research and Development and…" Dick sighed… "my best friend most of the time."

Bile began its second journey north in as many minutes and Artemis tried her best not to slide under the table and crawl out unnoticed by Gotham's high society.

"So have you looked at the menu?" Dick asked as if nothing had happened. "What looks good?"

Authors' Note: Sorry for the update delay, I got covered up in life but I'll do better. It really bums me out when an author starts a story and you get invested and then never finishes it. That won't happen here I promise. Speaking of stories I just finished one I'm really proud of. If you have time take a look at it let me know what you think. It's called "Until We Meet Again" and it's under a series of one shots called "I Should Have Done This a Long Time Ago." Bring a tissue. Thanks for reading and I'll see you in a week or two.