A/N: Slowly working. And I'm updating this because I want to. I love writing this story. Really.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Young Justice.

Who I Am

"It's not who I am anymore." I'm trying to get out of it. All I feel are hard stares on my back, boring eyes through my skull, and the disappointment and rage that fills the air like smoke in a burning building. "I don't want to do this."

"The Light needs you." The ghostly voices are coming through speakers that I can't see. Or maybe it's coming through the glowing screens that hold the outlines of our bosses. I don't know, but I do know it's creepy. Kind of like Batman. "You are our infiltrator so we can know the minds of this new team."

"What if I don't want to be the infiltrator anymore?" I ask the faceless figures that are merely white shadows that give orders. "What if I don't want to be your little tool?" I really want to shoot the screens out and cut off all of the Shadows' connections off with these guys. We don't need them. I know we don't need them. We're assassins for a reason. We work alone.

Silence. Emanating, all encompassing silence. The kind that makes you feel empty inside and makes your mind feel numb, like you've been swallowed by an abyss.

"I'm not doing this anymore." I toss down my bow, watching it crack unevenly along an ugly seam that I hadn't been able to fix. The string, usually taut and strong, is suddenly loose and makes the weapon look pitiful. I feel defenseless, but I know that this isn't the role I was meant to play. I won't betray my friends. I'm a killer, a weapon, a masterpiece of death, but I know who I am. I want to be someone with friends and real family. Not all this fake garbage that I'm always being thrust into.

I take my step out of the ring of light that seems to engulf everything. The screens make everything glow as the figures don't move. They don't seem fazed. It scares me just a little bit, but I know what I'm doing. I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm not a spy. I'm not a killer. I'm not an infiltrator. I'm not what they're trying to mold me into.

I'm a girl. I have feelings. I have a soul. I have friends. I have a life. I am someone.

My bow is gone. I'm walking through the group of killers. They're all looking at me with disgust. They know I can't be tamed. They want to say the same about themselves, but they're still following the rules, following the Shadows. For some reason, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. It's like my burden is gone. The assignment is over. I'm done.

I want to go back to Mount Justice. I want to tell them who I am. I want them to know. I want to be accepted because I'm someone they could consider a friend. I want to be part of that team because I belong there, not because the Shadows want an informant or because Batman wants to keep an eye on me.

And a hand grips my shoulder. "You know what leaving means." His voice his harsh, ready to discipline me. His words are laced with a deeper meaning, one I don't want to interpret. The grip tightens in an almost painful way; I wince involuntarily. "You know you shouldn't leave."

"I don't have to listen to you." My voice sounds out of place, stronger than it should be. I'm an underdog here, I'm an underdog there, I'm always less than I should be, but I think I need to stand up for myself some time. That time might as well be now. I'll never get out of this unless I leave now. I have to leave. I can't live like this forever. I'm doomed to end by one of these daggers or arrows or bombs or claws, but I'm not afraid. I'm willing to suck it up and leave and die a free girl rather than be trapped under a shadow. "I don't have to be here. No one can make me stay. You can only kill me."

A fist collides with the back of my head and I know who it was without even having to think. I reach for my bow only to remember that I left it behind. I can't have it back. I can't. I'm done. I give up. No more. No more.

I'm sprawled out on the floor from the blow. It hurts. I feel this searing pain in my head like something just exploded inside my skull but I can tell that it's not going away anytime soon. I don't look up. I don't want to see how angry he is with me. I don't want to go back. I know the consequences, but I think I'd rather face them than deal with being under the Shadows' thumb. I won't be a tool. Not anymore.

"Remember who you are, Artemis." A foot rolls me over so that the light is shining on my face again, the shadows lingering on his. "Remember that we made you. Remember that we can break you." I can't see behind the mask, but I can imagine the snarling lips and the disgust at me being related to him.

"I'd spit at you, but gravity doesn't work that way." I try to push myself up off the ground, looking at my broken bow a few feet away. I don't stand a chance without it, but maybe if I can get to safety enough to call Batman or Green Arrow…

My legs curl under me and I'm about to stand up when another foot delivers a kick to my ankle and I'm off balance and against the ground again. There's a short, quiet laugh that sounds a bit like a purr. "I really hope Ra's will choose me to be your savior," came Cheshire's voice from over me as I look up into the mask that shields her smile. "It'd be fun to toy with you. Continue our game from before, don't you agree?"

I've had those dreams everyone I know is in it and their trying to kill me; this was like that except for the dream part. And the team wasn't trying to kill me, that was good. But after this, they might. I don't know. They probably wouldn't take lightly to having a traitor in their midst. I know I wouldn't. "Let me leave and I won't tell them anything." I'm trying to bargain for my life. Information for my life. Well, the information would still be safe if they killed me. Either way, I don't think I'm getting out. Actually, I know I'm not getting out. And even if I do, my death sentence has already been said in the silence of the shadows.

"Artemis, that's not how this works." My father's watching me with those eyes behind that mask and I know he won't hold anyone back from killing me. I can already hear Cheshire's finger's tightening on the grips of her sais. "You know you aren't getting away."

"At least I won't die a traitor." I'm so glad that I know at little bit of hand-to-hand combat. I just don't want to die knowing that I betrayed my friends. My real friends. And maybe after I'm dead, they'll know that I was killed while trying to quit. Like trying to quit drugs, there's always the possibility of dying. And I died trying to at least save them just a little bit. Maybe I bought them a few more days or a few more hours or maybe even a moment to say goodbye, but I was willing to do it. Friends against family. "At least I won't have to see any of you ever again."

Cheshire's weapons were drawn from their sheathes.

A/N: Next chapter is already planned out. This one actually took me a week or so to finish. And I'll let you figure out that ambiguous ending on your own. Reviews are great.

~Sky