Gotham City, East End
November 11th, 2016
11:42 AM EST
The sound of her phone hitting the hardwood floor wakes Artemis up from her dreamless sleep.
She raises her forearm to keep the blind-filtered sunlight out of her eyes. The fallen phone vibrates against the floor, creating an annoying, louder buzzing noise. Perfect. As she leans over to grab the device, the cold air reminds her to put in a work-order to her landlord to fix the thermostat. The phone stops buzzing the moment she pulls it up. The warmth of the duvet drags her back into her spot on the bed. Turning away from the window, she stares at the screen in her hand.
There are ten new voicemails. Just as she unlocks her phone, a warning message appears telling her to clear out her voicemail box before it fills. She grimaces. The messages Wally left for her while she was undercover are locked in the phone and she has no plans on changing that anytime soon. Most of them are short. 'Hey, Babe, just wanted to ask you to do something for me:… don't you… forget about me.. don't, don't, don't, don't…' Some are longer. 'Babe, you'll never guess what Brucely did today, so I'm going to explain it super fast and pretend you're right here listening to me. Actually, when you hear this, you'll be back, so you will be with me and get to see my incredibly important and handsome facial expressions... It all started when I stubbed my toe on the couch–'
When the quiet of the apartment becomes overwhelming (and the thoughts of forgetting his voice become equally overwhelming), the messages drag her out of bed. Those are the moments she most loathes her landlord and his hatred of pit bulls. This apartment might be temporary, but having Brucely around would certainly brighten up the dingy space, even if the dog spent the whole day chewing on her shoes. He's probably happier in Keystone; Mary feeds him too many treats and Rudy makes sure he can always nap on the couch. At least with them around to entertain, he isn't constantly watching the door and waiting for another redhead to come home.
The first two, new messages are from her mother (one a babbling tirade from Lian, one a concerned questioning from Paula) and the next is from a number that can't be traced (Jade, telling her to feed Lian's fish) . Mary wants to know if she's still coming over and if she's doing alright and if she needs anything and if she wants something specific for dessert. She calls again, fifteen minutes after the first call, telling her to bring an appetite because she bought too much food and there's only so much space in the freezer. Zatanna demands she accompany her to Zachary's magic show on the 26th. Karen reminds her that she's available if she needs to talk. Kaldur instructs her to call him whenever she has the time. The newbies need some more guidance in their hand-to-hand training. Bart's message is unintelligible. She replays it over and over again, but the words are too muffled to hear. That's fine. She'll see him in person later.
The last message is from Dinah's cell phone. Artemis moves further under the covers before she presses play.
"Hey, kiddo." Oliver's voice doesn't surprise her. "Just letting you know the Kords are finally ready. I made a few adjustments to the grips, but you've got to come by and test it out. Yours is a bit lighter than your usual bow, but man, does that thing pack a punch. I can see what you were talking about. Come over to the house Saturday and take a few shots with me and Roy. It'll be fun. I'll make chili. Let me know."
Sinking deeper into the bed, Artemis systematically deletes the messages.
Distractions. Everyone seems to want to be one these days.
She takes a deep breath as she deletes the last message. She has to stop. They're trying. Everyone is trying. She needs to try, too.
As she puts down the phone and forces herself out of bed, she mulls over the offers. She has to call Mary back soon. A few hours at the Wests will do her good, hopefully. Either that or she'll make it to the front door and bolt back to the Zeta point. Stop that, she admonishes herself as she steps over the dirty clothes on the floor. Maybe Bart will explain his hurried message when she gets there. Her feet tread across the freezing tiles in the bathroom and goosebumps spread over her skin. She has to feed Lian's fish. She flicks the shower water on quickly. The water won't stay warm long considering the hour and her ancient building's heating system.
"Ugh," she sighs roughly, peeling off her sticky clothes before tossing them into the pile by her bed. The curtain swings shut as she scoots into the shower. The mental image of her clothes strewn all over the apartment makes her cringe. Gotta do laundry. That's a thing. Her nearly empty conditioner bottle gives its last drop. She tosses it outside the shower curtain. Throw that away. While she's at it, she should probably take out the trash in the kitchen. Last week's takeout isn't smelling any better than it did when she first got it. Wally always took out the–
"Ugh!" Artemis slams her hand against the wet tiles in the shower. The hollow thud doesn't satisfy her. She hits it again. "Stop it."
One hundred and fifty days. It's been that long since he ran into that zeta tube and never came back. It was supposed to be worse in the beginning. That's what everyone had told her, but they were liars.
Why hadn't anyone warned her that she'd have to go through the loss over and over again, that every little thing would serve as a stinging reminder that there was a person-sized hole in her life now? Artemis clenches her eyes shut to keep from crying (she doesn't want to cry anymore) and holds her breath as the lukewarm water washes over her face. It's been so long, but it feels like it happened just yesterday.
"Stop," she begs again.
It doesn't.
-o-
Keystone City
November 11th, 2016
4:53 PM CST
When Artemis arrives at the Wests, she doesn't get a chance to bolt. Bart answers the door and pulls her inside the moment after she knocks, throwing her into an almost empty room. Immediately, she half-regrets not leaving her uniform at home. The Tigress mask in her bag feels heavier here; it's useless in a place where she has no desire, no need, and no reason to be anyone but Artemis. Still, she'll need it as soon as she walks out of the house.
Bart is practically buzzing as he drags her to the living room. "Did'ya get my message?"
"I could hardly understand you," Artemis says lightly, unlooping her arm from Bart's.
"Ah, sorry about that. I must've had the wrong mic on. Joan and I just installed this retro speaker system in the house and it can make phone calls from pretty much anywhere. Still working out the kinks, but you know." He makes square motions with his hands, as if she's supposed to understand what he means by that.
She shrugs it off as another future thing. He has a knack of making her feel ancient at twenty-one.
"So, what did you want to tell–"
"Artemis!" Iris' face lights up even as she struggles to rise from the old, low recliner. The baby in her arms stays docile. "I'm so glad to see you."
"Oh, don't get up for me," Artemis says, walking over and leaning down to hug the woman. "I'm glad to see you, too. And this is?"
"Dawn," Iris says, moving the blanket out of her daughter's face, "the newest ruler of Allen-town."
"Not even a month old and already running the place?" Artemis guesses, watching Dawn's half-open eyes close slowly. The pudgy baby doesn't do much else. Cute.
"You have no idea," laughs Iris. "Don's a breeze, but this girl is a total princess. I can't put her down for a second."
"Same old Aunt Dawn." Bart chuckles to himself, grinning at the baby before he bolts out of the room towards the dining room.
Artemis catches Iris' eyes and raises a brow. "Still weird?"
Iris nods. "Still weird."
"Where is everyone?" Artemis asks, not used to this house being so quiet.
"The boys are out back, taking out the dog–" Iris' smile wavers, "and Joan's been trying to get Mary to come back downstairs for the last half-hour."
Artemis grips the strap of her bag as she dares a glance at the staircase. "Is she…?"
Iris shakes her head and purses her lips.
That's not good.
A small sigh escapes Artemis's lips before she nods. This is why she's here. She places her bag on the end table, makes sure her phone is off, and pats her coat pocket, feeling for the pack of tissue she packed earlier in the day. She's gone all day without breaking, but this might be the moment. It pays to be prepared.
"I'll go check on them," she says, passing Iris and Dawn to reach the staircase.
As she climbs the stairs, unfamiliar frames strung up along the wall catch her attention. They definitely weren't there the last time she visited (when she dropped off another box full of his things that she couldn't stop obsessing over). One picture in particular gives her pause. Wally is sticking his tongue out at the camera and wearing a ridiculously large hat for a seven-year-old, waving a sparkler in his hand. The weight in her chest grows heavier. Dork. She continues up the stairs, keeping her sight on the worn carpet. There's a squeaky stair, one away from the top; habit keeps her from stepping on it.
The second door on the left calls out to her. She can't help but approach it and stand in the groove of the carpet next to the door. There's a reason running in the house is banned. Stopping isn't kind on floors. Her fingers wrap themselves around the cool doorknob. Open it.
"No, stop," she whispers, pulling her hand away from the knob as though it were on fire. In an instant, all she can see is the door with the lightning bolt stickers that used to glow in the dark; all she can think of is how many times she closed it softly behind her as he snuck her in at midnight and it takes every bit of strength she has to take a deep breath before her brain gets the better of her.
She is not ready for this. The last time she was in his childhood room was last Christmas when things were so different and happy and not–
"Artemis?" Mary's curious voice cuts through the thick air, tossing Artemis' train of thought off its track. "Are you alright?"
"I-uh…" Artemis takes a deep breath and lets go of the doorknob slowly. She hides her shaking hands in her coat pockets. The package of tissues might have to be shared at this point.
"Sweetie?"
"I don't think so," she admits, to Mary and herself. There has to be something sinister going on, something affecting the oxygen in the hall; it shouldn't be this hard to breathe. "I came up here to ask you the same thing, but then I felt like… like I needed something in his room, but then I couldn't open it and I… I don't even remember what I was looking for."
Mary's eyes are red rimmed and filled with an understanding Artemis hasn't seen in weeks. She needs to come around more often.
"That's alright," Mary says, quietly stepping in front of the door. "Happens to me all the time."
It's hard to ignore the tender way Wally's mother traces her fingers over the worn out stickers on the door.
Artemis would feel like she's intruding, but this place is just as much a home to her as her mother's apartment in Gotham. From the second she had stepped through the front door, she had been welcome, and never in all the years that she and Wally were together did she feel Mary or Rudy look at her with anything other than kindness. She has always belonged here. She always will. That must is clear.
"My baby–" Mary's voice breaks to pieces just as her fingers skim the doorknob. "I can't– can't believe he's really gone–"
Neither can I.
"I know," Artemis agrees, pulling her clammy hands out of her pockets to wrap her arms around Mary. "I know."
The older woman returns the embrace and her strangling hold feels more like a breath of fresh air, like purpose, and suddenly, Artemis can breathe again.
I'll find him, she silently promises, closing her eyes as Mary cries against her shoulder. I'll find him.
Standing in the center of the stretch of worn carpet, Artemis repeats the phrase, over and over and over again, until it sounds less like a promise and more like a prayer.
-o-
Watchtower
November 11th, 2016
23:34 UCT
Martian Manhunter doesn't say a word when Tigress purposefully strides out of the Zeta tube on the Watchtower. His silence is a kindness, one appreciated greatly. Most heroes are out– some at home, some on duty, some off world, and the few that are at headquarters know not to approach. At least, that's what she hopes. She doesn't have time to check the on-tower list. The day is almost over.
Her nerves of steel broke the second she stepped out of the West's warm house into the windy streets of Keystone. All thoughts of returning home were instantly replaced by irresistible urges to kick and scream and break things; anything that would keep her out of her empty bed and messed up head. Her feet led her to a Zeta tube, a familiar photo booth behind an old, run-down arcade, and when given a list of destinations, she chose the one furthest from home.
The metal doors slide open with a click that echoes down the empty hall. After a moment of hesitation, Artemis takes off her mask and clips it to side of her belt. The first steps are always the hardest (because turning around would be so easy and moving forward is much harder), but once the trees surround her and the recycled air turns warmer, she feels more at ease. The door closes behind her. She takes a worn-down path to the edge of the garden, her eyes following the recent footprints on the ground until the edge of a metal pedestal comes into view.
For the millionth time, she wishes it were a bad dream, a mystic nightmare, a coma terror, another simulation gone horribly wrong– but when she looks up, and a cheap image of her best friend flickers before her, she remembers just how real it all is.
"Hey," she says, voice quivering. The hologram doesn't respond and her shoulders shake. She takes a seat, grounding herself with trembling fingers threading through the damp grass. There's little she can do to stop the oncoming storm.
"I saw your family today." The blades of grass between her fingers snap, so she snatches a new patch and repeats the process.
I saw your family today, she repeats mentally, when her voice proves untrustworthy. It doesn't matter. He won't hear her either way. They're trying their best. I'll visit more often, yeah? Take Brucely around town for a day. Give Iris and Barry a night out. That'd be good, right?
She taps the metal platform with the tip of her toe; the image flickers. A spark of anger sets fire to her heart and she frowns at the ground again. This is stupid.
"Come back," she snaps, mimicking Not-Wally's serious expression.
"Ask me where I hid the glow sticks," she demands, tapping the projector again. "I might give you a hint. And remind me to turn on the T.V. timer at night; the electric bill is too high for someone who's barely ever home. Please, explain to me again why we had to watch Sharknado three times."
She keeps talking, exhuming ancient inside jokes she'd almost forgotten (that terrifies her), to fill the silence she so desperately wants to avoid. She lists the concerts they went to when they were seventeen and the movies they "saw" at the ever-empty dollar theater when they were eighteen and every other excuse she ever made to her mother (and the team) when she was late because of him.
The words mean everything and nothing, and they quickly turn from cherished memories to angry accusations. He left her. One second he'd been by her side and the next he was gone. How could he have done that to her? What if she could have helped? Why did he have to go running off? Why didn't he say anything?
Artemis yells in frustration as she kicks the hologram projector hard enough to make it fizzle out of existence for a long moment. In the time it takes for the hologram to reappear, she thinks about Mary, and Rudy, and Brucely, and how everything had changed in an instant, and she hadn't been ready, and they hadn't been ready, and she's spent the last few months running from it all when she could have been working on making this goddamn hologram pointless.
She can't keep running away. She has to run towards something. She just needs a little direction.
"Give me a hint," Artemis begs, her voice filled with resolve. "Where do I start–"
At the tip of her 't', the door to the room slides open.
For a moment, she believes it was just her imagination trying to snap her out of her thousand-yard stare, but the light above the door is visible through the trees, flickering off as it shuts automatically. Someone saw her, heard her, and decided to disappear without a word. She scrambles to get off of the floor, dropping Tigress' mask in the dirt in her haste. The trees blur and her feet stumble over overgrown roots, but she doesn't slow down until she reaches the wall.
Dick.
Who else would run from her? Her heart pounds heavy in her ears, louder than the sound her fingers make against the keyboard next to the door. The On-Tower List appears onscreen.
Monitor: Martian Manhunter 07
On-Duty: Hawkman 09, Hawkwoman 10, Green Lantern 14, Plastic Man 19, Black Lightning 23
On-Tower: Red Tornado 16, Nightwing B01, Aqualad B02, Tigress B07
There's a part of her that wants to run after him; trap him in a vacant room and tear into him for leaving her on her own for so long, for practically vanishing when she needed him most– when they needed each other. Another part wants to stay put and pretend he was never there.
Artemis waits until his name disappears off the screen before she takes a breath, rolls her shoulders back, and returns to the pedestal to retrieve her mask. She takes one last look at the hologram in front of her before she puts on the mask and walks out of the memorial garden far more angry than she'd been when she'd walked into it. That's fine. It was far easier to be angry than anything else.
Artemis storms through the winding halls of the Watchtower, dead set on finding an open simulation room in which to unleash her fury, but before she can press the elevator button, a hand grabs her clenched fist and pulls her back. On instinct, she swings around with her free fist raised.
"Artemis," Kaldur says gently, quickly catching her other fist, "I called your name several times."
"Sorry," she says, freezing in place as her anger is instantly replaced by an intense desire to implode.
"It's alright," Kaldur replies slowly, lowering their hands as his eyes fill with understanding, "Are you–"
"I'm fine," she interrupts, eyes brimming with tears. "I just– It's been a long day and I went to see the stupid thing and it's so late and– oh, fuck, I forgot to feed Lian's fish! The fucking fish! How could I– How could I forget–"
All at once, the weight of the day comes crashing down on her. She tries to keep explaining, but all she can manage is a choked whimper. Kaldur quickly and carefully leads her into an empty conference room, knowing damn well she isn't crying over a fish.
Once inside, Artemis rips off her mask, tosses it to the far side of the long table in front of her, and braces her hands against the back of a chair. Her head spins as she gasps for air between an onslaught of sudden, guttural sobs. She'd come to the Watchtower to avoid this, but maybe this was what she'd needed the whole time. She's almost glad Kaldur caught her. Of all her friends, no one gets it as much as it he does.
Artemis lets Kaldur turn her around and sit her on the tabletop. She doesn't resist when he wraps her in a tight embrace.
"I know," he says solemnly, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.
Artemis only has the strength to hold him back and cry, and they stay this way for a long while.
In all of that time, Kaldur doesn't say a word. There had been a time not so long ago when their roles were reversed and the only person to keep from offering well-meaning platitudes he didn't want to hear was Artemis, and he appreciated that beyond measure. He won't insult her by trying to throw a veil over her grief. They've been through far too much together for that.
He does what he can by being there, and he knows, for now, that is all she needs.