Wally
Next time I wake up, it's with a not-agonizingly-but-still-unpleasant numbness in my legs. Oh…and no shirt.
I try to move something, anything , and realize that 'not-agonizing' is something of an exaggeration. The pain isn't so much numbed as it's dulled. At least the burnings gone down…in my legs, anyway.
The room's gotten hotter—A LOT hotter—since I was last around to notice. The air's heavy and thick and it's a struggle to convince my lungs to take in the air. Now that I understand where they're coming from, I am never putting those poor helpless Peeps in the microwave again.
I try to lift my head, sit up a bit to find Artemis but just groan in discomfort. Curling up on my abs makes my hips move which make my legs shift the tiniest bit and makes dull pain feel a whole lot less dull. Besides, nothing below my waist seems wanting to cooperate with my brain.
"Look alive…sunshine," she calls. The strain colors her voice weirdly.
With a bit of effort, I flip my head to look behind me and my eyes almost pop out of my skull. Artemis is stretched out not too far away from me like a swimsuit model getting a tan. Her hair's braided and twisted into a giant horrible mess of bun near the top of her head.
She's wearing lime green panties, a white bra, and her sling. Nothing else.
I stare.
She has…legs? This is all my brain manages to process successfully. Since when did she have legs like that?
Artemis sits up painstakingly on her good arm and glares at me, reading my thoughts all over my face.
Right! Right! Captivity. Suffocation. Priorities. Oogle later…No, DON'T oogle later! Don't oogle at all! RESCUERESCUERESCUE.
I fix my eyes on her hair disaster and fight to keep my gaze there. "Uh—" I start, and realize how painfully dry my throat is, "Did Hawkman—try to—cough!—build a nest…on your head?"
She rolls her eyes but doesn't deny it. "Glad to see they didn't…break your stupid funny bone."
The longer she keeps her mouth moving, the quicker I'm reminded that I'm talking to Artemis and the easier it is not to stare at her boobs. Not MUCH easier, but still…
"Ugh," I groan, "whatdidtheydotome?" I try to sit up on my arms but my arms are shaking badly and even my abs hurt even though they have no reason to feel weakly, especially after what my legs have been through. I plop back to the floor and hit my head on the, thankfully, cushioned floor. The room spins a little on the edges. "Ow."
"Stop trying to move, idiot! …before you make yourself worse!" she says, suddenly over me, lightly pushing one of my shoulders into the ground.
"What…happened…?" I ask again. The walls are…red now? I thought they were black before? I try to find my focus again but eyes keep going south.
I wonder if she'd forgive me for being delirious and injured if I just sortaaccidentallybrushagainst one of them if my hand's…onitswayto…somewhereelse…NO. STOP. EMERGENCY SITUATION. KEEP MAKING FUN OF HER HAIR.
As I fight to stay in the here and now, Artemis swallows painfully, then starts, "You were shot. Once in the calf, once in the knee. I tried to bandage you up before you lost too much blood. Managed tooo sneak you sooome painkillerssssss..."
Her voice starts distorting. The second after she said calf and knee, both places exploded with pain. I feel myself slipping as muscle memory refuses to let me forget what happened. Right now I hate my biology because those painkillers of hers had been working pretty well until right then…
She slaps me, shouting something angrily. The smack brings me back but my brain's still spinning a bit too much for me to hear what she says.
"Huhzzat?" I mumble, looking at her boobs again because I can't remember why I shouldn't.
I'm pushed/pulled up into a sitting position by her one good arm and some combination of other parts of her. I buzz pleasantly in my mind at the feel of her bare arms on my chest and her chest on my back as she positions me. Then she tugs me and moves my damaged legs, sending a shock of pain. Now I'm really right back in the world of the living. "Ah! Ow, ow that hurts!!"
"Good!" she grunts, still tugging with her one arm. I grab it to try and stop her and am happy to find that at least my arms are still my friends. They've stopped shaking anyway.
She lets go of my torso and I can feel her ducking the arm around, her good shoulder pressed into my spine. Then she leans back against me, sweaty back to sweaty back, keeping us both sitting upright. I couldn't lie back down now even if I wanted to. Which I do. Very much.
"And the point of THAT was…?" I say, trying to sound angry at her. I'm really trying to stop myself from leaning my head against the back of hers, because that would mean admitting this was a good idea. I bet that bun of hair feels just like a pillow. A yellow, messy, sweaty pillow.
"Keeps us…both in the game, Wally West…" she pants in answer, sounding more tired.
"What IS all this?" I ask, the question only coming to mind now. "Why are they doing this?"
Artemis doesn't answer. Did I say that out loud? Or in my head?
"It's a ploy. For my dad," she says. "We're being held hostage until he pays ransom."
"Will he?"
There's some quiet between us. She probably catching her breath and I'm…trying to find mine, I guess. The heat's starts getting to me more now. It becomes a chore to hold my head up, to keep my body from sliding. I give in and lean the back of my head against the cushion of her bun. It is just like a fluffy pillow…
She knocks her head back against mine. HARD. "Wally! Pay attention!"
"I'm trying!" I whine. Keeping my eyes open is getting harder and harder. Nothing hurt like this when you were asleep, my brain keeps telling me.
She grumbles. "Great. I just doped up my best bet out of here."
This position is super uncomfortable. Maybe I can manage to get my head on her shoulder if I distract her? I could slump a bit, it'd be easier to drift off to sleep that way. So much easier… "You…did what…to me?"
Her nails dig into my hand and I wake up a bit more. "OW! I'mfineharpy! Do you like hurting me?!"
"We need a plan, Wally!" she yells. "We need to get out of here! Tell me what your ideas were for escape?"
My ideas? I…can't remember. I know I had them, know I bragged, but then everything exploded in pain and then they didn't really apply any more, since they all required super speed. And everything suddenly got so hot…
"I'd…rather hear 'bout yours…beautiful…" I try smoothly, shifting slightly to get comfy.
She nudges my shoulder, which is gentler than clawing my hand off but still annoying. "No. You need to talk to me, Wally…to stay awake. Tell me about something…anything at all. How fast can you run?"
"Twenty miles per hour short of Mach One, babe…" I say proudly. It's an easy answer. That's the fastest Uncle Barry's ever clocked me at.
"Okay…why is your costume so retarded looking?"
I snort, finding the questioning insult funny for some ludicrous reason. "Because I…am a high speed crash test dummy."
Artemis laughs tiredly, but it's an honest to god laugh. The sounds more effective than the clawing and the hitting. I can't remember ever hearing her legitimately laughing. "How 'bout you?" I try again. Her talking means I can get some sleeping.
"Hm?"
"What's the deal with your hair? Are you, like…the Samson of archery powers?"
I'm not sure the question came out like it sounded in my head but she shrugs anyway. "I like it."
I like it too. It makes her look kick-ass even out of uniform. "Tell me something…'bout yourself no one else knows," I say, because no other questions come to mind.
"You're the ones that…needs to keep talking…to stay awake," she says, annoyed.
"Chicken."
She stays quiet for a few seconds and the tendrils of sleep whisper to me more strongly.
"Doesn't leave the crate?"
"Don't leave the crate," I concede, forcing myself awake for long enough to hear this.
"…I know all the lyrics…to Baby Got Back," she admits finally.
I snort, then can't help laughing loudly which leads to a small fit of dry coughs. THAT was definitely the next to last thing I expected. "Really? Really?"
"Shut up," she mumbles.
"You are a damn dirty liar," I challenge, unable to relax my gleeful grin.
"I like big butts and I cannot lie," she starts droning, "You other brothers can't deny. When a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist…"
She goes on to recite the entire song. The whole thing from start to finish! I didn't even know that song said half the things it said. Somewhere along the middle, she gives up on doing it emotionlessly and starts rapping it like Sir Mix-A-Lot does. I join in on the parts I know to keep myself awake if only long enough to listen to this miracle unfolding.
When she finishes, I tease, "That…was the most amazingthingI'veeverseen. I think I'm in love with you."
Artemis snorts. "Shut up," she says again. But I can hear the smile in her tired voice this time.
That's when I realize her hand is still on mine. Since she clawed me, I guess she hadn't moved it. She was tapping out the beat of the song on it and now…her finger tips are running tenderly over my knuckles. I look down on it and see for the first time that it's caked in blood. My blood. It's under her nails, between the cracks in her skin, splotching up almost to her elbows. It highlights her archery scars.
The smile slides off my face. I try to remember what we were supposed to be doing again. Keeping each other awake for…for what? For company? To escape? We could barely manage the awake part, let alone the planning without devolving into singing and delirium.
We were so royally screwed.
She says something I don't process. "What?"
"Your turn, West," she prods. Either she's slipping out of it too, or I am because her voice is even groggier sounding now. "What hidden talent…do you have? What's what…about you…no one else knows?"
I'm still staring at her hand, feeling the brush of her fingers against the back of mine, tracing the flexed tendons across the back of my hand. I wonder how the blood isn't rubbing off. I want to tell her I'm sorry that it's mine.
But what comes out of my mouth is, "I'm sorry…'bout the things I said 'bout Roy."
Artemis
In the battle of me vs. the heat, it's winning by a landslide. It's getting to me as much as or far worse than him. I can't swallow any more, my mouth isn't producing saliva. My heartbeat's going a thousand miles per second but I think I've stopped sweating altogether. My tongue's dry and it's hard to think about anything other than water.
And now I'm hallucinating Wally West apologizing to me.
I make a non-committal questioning noise and rest my head a little further back against his. He has a nice shaped head.
"You're not second best," he reiterates. "You're…not a poor man's Roy Harper, Artemis."
"Uh…huh," I answer, not believing my own pathetic delusions.
Then he's holding my hand. I can't figure out how he got it, but his fingers are there all the sudden, in between mine, a one to one finger to finger ratio that feels really…nice.
Which is a shame. Because I can feel myself sliding against him and that hand would have come in handy to brace myself right about now…
"I'd rather…bestuckherewithyou…than him," he goes on.
"I'm not…I think…" I struggle to get out, "I think…I've stopped sweating…that's…that's bad…isn't it?"
He doesn't hear me. I'm not even sure I said it out loud. Oh god…oh god…
"Besides," he says, still talking, squeezing my hand. "You're better at this sort of thing…" He snorts once, then coughs. "Plus…a whole lot easier on the eyes…"
I only half-process this. I feel it. I feel myself slipping and can tell you exactly where the point of catching myself was and how little I cared right then about catching it. He's being so nice, I think. I don't want to…His lips felt so nice…His hand feels so nice…
But because I'm a bitch, I mumble, "Superboy…would've made…for better scenery…"
Then the world slips and I lose hold of Wally's hand as I fall.