Okay, so here's number three, already posted on Tumblr. Title is that of the Hedley song from which come th lyrics. Huzzah.

We Are Unbreakable

These scars on my heart I own them
Dark days when my will was stolen
I can bring it back
Yeah, I know it, I know it
And I'm starting to feel again

She is angry. It is the first thing she feels as she peels off her gloves, letting the green leather drop to the floor, forgotten. Her irritation practically palpable, and she wishes she could wash it from her skin as easily as the dirt caught under her nails. But she can't, because she is angry.

Angry at herself for hesitating. Angry for not taking the shot when it counted. Angry that he still affects her, after all this time. It's been two years. Two freaking years. He shouldn't matter anymore. It's not like the others do. She never hesitates on a mission when faced with any other member of the Shadows.

So why is he different?

It takes every inch of self-control not to scream in frustration as she unzips her shirt, tossing it to the floor with disdain. The green of it should make her happy, should remind her that things have changed, and why is she worried about what's behind her? Only it doesn't. Because today proved that. Proved things aren't different, they're… they're… stupid.

It's the only word she can manage as she shuffles to her dresser, pulling free a white tee, then easing it over her head. Stupid. Because he was standing there, looking at her the way he used to, and she could've—should've—fired, and could hear the others egging her on through their mental link, but she froze. He made her freeze, which she supposes is fitting, but also stupid.

Stupid like the way a tiny part of her heart still aches seeing him. But she's changing her green pants for leggings, and trying not to think about it.

Stupid like the way her fingers shake, because he could've spilled everything in her moment of hesitation. He could've told her teammates everything. Only, he didn't. But she's facing the mirror, and untying her hair, and trying so hard to hate him.

"Stupid like you," she spits, narrowing her eyes at the girl in the mirror, running a hand down her stomach, trying to smooth down her shirt, her skin, her nerves. Because that's just what she is—stupid. For getting involved on the job, for still thinking about it after two years, for everything.

"You're not stupid."

At first she thinks she imagines it, because it's so soft, so unlike the boy who prides himself on being unforgettable, obnoxious, outgoing, and loud. But she can just see the glow of his yellow tee in her mirror, leaning in her doorway with his arms crossed, eyeing her.

She isn't bothered about how long he's been standing there. What he's seen. It's common occurrence now that after a mission he'll wind up at her door. To talk. To think. To… There are no questions about what he's going to say—she knows. He was with her tonight. He saw her hesitate, saw her inability to fire. He's come to gloat, to taunt, to remind her over and over again that Red Arrow was the better choice, irrelevant of the fact that they've been getting along. Enjoying each other's company, without the others cramming happy pills down their throats.

Only… he's not smirking like he's discovered way number 253 to annoy her. He's not laughing like he does when he gets under her skin. His smile is sincere as he steps into her darkened room, unfolding his arms as he comes to stand beside her.

He stares for a moment longer than he should, and her brows crease the way they do when she's chewing him out for being an idiot. It should tell him she's not in the mood for his antics, and he's okay with that, because that's not why he's here. He opens his mouth and she braces for the taunting, but instead, she is met with; "Why don't you wear your hair down more?"

She falters for only a fraction of a second—he'd be impressed. "Not very aero-dynamic, is it?"

"With your uniform, sure," he shrugs, absently running his fingers through her mane of blonde. "But you should in civvies. It's nicer."

She blinks at his reflection. She should wonder why he's being nice, why he's complimenting her without an insult stuck in the middle of all that. She should think to look for hidden cameras and a disguised Robin, lying in wait with a bucket of sticky feathers. But all she can do is stare, for this is so not normal Wally behavior and this is so not how she should be feeling about him running his nimble fingers through her hair.

Because Wally's sending an entirely different kind of shiver down her spine than he ever did, and she honestly can't bring herself to care. "Because I… I'm not…" Pretty? Smart? Worth it? The words catch in her throat when she sees the look in his emerald irises. It dares her to say it, dares her to voice every self-deprecating thought she has about herself. Every reason she is angry with herself.

And she tries. She really does. Only, his hands are on her in an instant, and his mouth is running its course, telling her exactly why he doesn't think she's stupid. What he thinks is more than amazing about her. And she has no idea where this is coming from, and should probably be more suspicious than she is, but she can't.

Because that ache in her heart? It's thawing.

And those fingers that were shaking? They're burning, boiling with the same heat his are as they rake across her skin.

And that anger? When she turns halfway through his speech to crash her lips against his, melding together their mouths, bodies, feelings, souls, it up and disappears—

-and she thinks about how this feels nothing like anything with Cameron ever did.

Implied past-tense IcicleJr/Artemis, because even if I'm not that big of a fan of them, the lyrics told me to do it. And I can't get them out of my head. Goddammit. So my apologies to anyone that reads this and dislikes them. SPITFIRESPITFIRESPITFIRE (L)