Disclaimer- Do not own Young Justice or any of it's characters.

Another week, another chapter! Please enjoy.

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Chapter Length: 3,480 words

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The old Gotham North hospital was a massive building that dominated the center of the slums.

It filled the surrounding area with a sense of dread rather than the usual comfort that encompassed a safe house for the injured. This particular hospital had been turned into something of a headquarters for the werewolves of the slums, and it was there that her dad issued orders and kept everything under his thumb.

It was kind of intimidating, the way he could scatter the pack out to do anything he wanted them, and see it all, figuratively speaking, from behind the broken windows.

Artemis scowled up at the place as she got closer to it, holding her side the whole way; if she hadn't been so injured she would have been there in a heartbeat as a beast. Then again, she was in no hurry to deal with her least favorite parent.

There had never been any love between them. Lawrence had been ruthless to both herself and her sister ever since they were born, drilling it into their skulls that they were superior because of their gift, as he called it. She remembered spending so much of her early years honing her skills, learning to fight as both a human and a beast; she hadn't even known what all of it was for, just that at first there had been a thirst to prove herself to him.

Surely if she did what he wanted, if she got good enough, then he would love her?

Her jaw tightened.

It was hard for her to believe there had ever been a time that Lawrence had actually loved their mother enough to have kids with her. Especially with the way he had simply left her to her own devices after she became crippled. Oh, he still helped them pay their rent on occasion, but Lawrence was a man that was a fan of having all his ducks in a row. They were part of the pieces in his bigger plan, and once they ceased to be of the right kind of use, they were nothing to him.

Needless to say, Paula's disability and Artemis's stubborn compassion for those she had been trained to handle had put them both squarely in the middle of his list of useless people.

Artemis reached the big glass doors and pulled them open. The inside of the old hospital was dim, filled with broken elevators and people milling around waiting to be seen. Most of them were wolves that she recognized, some were humans of the slums; most people that lived around the place weren't even aware of their existence, which was intended.

Only gangsters and the occasional foolish "hunters" would figure things out eventually, and anyone that did was usually snuffed out in due time. The hospital may have become a headquarters, but it was still a hospital nonetheless, and so the front was kept up.

Artemis walked right on through the halls to the steps, not making eye contact with anyone. It was a long, painful trek to the uppermost floors. By the time she got there, the blonde was panting and sweating. She had to stop to catch her breath and clean the tears from her face, and compose herself enough to keep her hands by her sides.

Then she went straight to the biggest office on the top floor, where her father liked to conduct his daily business.

He had a visitor when she entered. Artemis didn't care and spoke anyway.

"Hey. I'm back." she said bluntly, shutting the door behind her loudly.

"You were gone?" Lawrence Crock grunted absently, looking over a sheet of paper the visitor had handed him. He spoke to the man under his breath, handing it back to him with a shake of his head, thick brows pressed together.

"Yeah. I got shot and almost died. I thought we could share some quality father/daughter bonding time by being disappointed about it," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "I just came to report in."

Lawrence largely ignored her until the other man finally left, leaving the two of them alone. The blond leveled her with a piercing stare, one that always managed to make her feel like she was still a little kid. Which was ridiculous, because she was a grown ass woman and he had no fucking authority over her anymore… except he did, because he was the alpha, and that was how packs worked.

"Anything else?" he said in a tone that screamed 'you're wasting my time right now'.

Artemis looked to the side like she was lost in deep thought, tapping her bare foot against the carpeted floor.

"Hmmm, not that I can think of… oh wait a minute, yes I can. Why are you having me followed?" she demanded, trying and failing to keep herself in check. Lawrence smirked at her, walking over to stand right in front of her. The amusement fell from his beefy face as abruptly as it had appeared.

"You know exactly why, girl."

Artemis feigned her knowledge. She wanted to hear it straight from her father's mouth.

"No, I don't! No one ever questioned Jade's motives when she started doing whatever the hell she wanted every night!"

"Jade was a natural born killer. You, on the other hand baby girl, have always been a little off," he said flatly, matching her pose of arms crossed, except it was far more intimidating because he had arms that looked like they could crush a truck. "You've never lived up to your potential, it's a waste. And a potential threat."

Artemis glared at him, her grey eyes narrowing. He grinned at her.

"Oh, I've known all about you getting comfortable with humans lately. Your sympathies were never hard to figure out; you never did have the guts for killing, but for defying my orders? You excel at that. You smell like a human right now," he growled out, grabbing her sleeve without warning. She gasped as he jerked her arm up to his nose, giving the ratty Stanford hoodie a drawn out sniff. He dropped it, her arm falling back against her side as his nostrils flared with repugnance.

"I—" she started, a curse intent on the tip of her defiant tongue, but he interrupted her with a leveled stare that stifled her into silence.

"Do you know why I sent those three useless mongrels on your trail? I can tell you right now it's not because you're of any significant importance to me, baby girl. I couldn't care less about your midnight escapades. You want to feed humans that are misfortunate? Go ahead and fatten them up for us, makes them lazy lunch. Hell, give them some weapons while you're at it, that'll make the hunt more of a challenge for us," Lawrence rattled off, gesturing with one of his meaty hands outside of the grimy glass windows with hairline cracks spiraling down them. "I put those three out there to get a message across to you, and now that the message has been sent, you can rest assured that they'll be taken off your trail. You see, I have much bigger things to worry about than you, and I need all of my assets to take care of the real threat: those gangster wannabes that think they know what we're all about."

"I—"

"You're a mistake," he finished for her, staring down at her with furrowed eyebrows. She hated it when he looked down on her, like she was a piece of trash he intended to throw away. "I'm going to tell you something and I'm only going to tell it once, so for your sake I hope you're listening. Cameron and the Twins were the lowest possible scum I could spare to follow you, but that doesn't mean I won't send more powerful pack members after your hide if you don't watch yourself. I'm the alpha here, in case you've forgotten, pup. I can see everything when and wherever I want, and you're no exception." He bent down to her level, face-to-face, and grabbed her chin none-too-gently in his calloused fingers, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. "You know exactly where the line is drawn, Artemis Crock. You cross that line, put one toe over it? You'll be dead before you're thirty. Do I make myself clear?"

Artemis's jaw was tight when she answered.

"Perfectly."

"Good," he growled out, releasing his hold on her with more force than necessary. "Now get back to that mother of yours and stop wasting my time," he told her dismissively, turning back towards the big desk near the window. He paused just as Artemis had finally bit her tongue and decided to get the hell out of there before she did something she regretted. Then he said, "And tell her that she was right about you."

"Whatever."

Artemis let the door slam on her way out; she only wished it had shattered from the impact.

Her entire escape from the hospital was a blur to her, overshadowed by her anger and the pain in her side. It hadn't been like she had expected a lovely meeting with her father, but somehow there was this tiny part of her that managed to still be hurt by his uncaring attitude toward her. It was a flaw that Artemis wished desperately she could claw right out of herself and stomp on with the heel of her boot. It was like a monster ripping a hole right out of her chest cavity every time they came into contact.

She wanted it to stop. She wasn't a kid anymore; she was done imagining he would ever be proud of her for any reason.

And she didn't want him to be. Not anymore. Not if it meant killing and bullying everyone around her.

Making her mom proud was a far better feeling, anyway, and that thought quelled Artemis's turmoil slightly as she made her way home slowly. Taking care of her mom, seeing her smile, the way she carried herself so proudly even from her wheelchair, the amount of compassion she had for people, both beast and human, had always been inspiring to Artemis.

I'm going to get us out of this hell hole some day, mom. Just wait, the blonde firmly thought.

By the time Artemis reached the door to their apartment, a great wave of fatigue had fallen over her body. It had taken a lot more than she had realized to keep up her pretense of being in good health for everyone. She felt bad that all of that Wally guy's work had probably come undone with her shower and spiraled even more out of control since. What a fine way to repay him.

"Mom, I'm home," she rasped tiredly, closing the door behind her. Immediately the squeak of her mother's wheelchair sounded, and the woman came rolling through the corridor with relief all over her ragged features. She was an amazing woman, stubborn and stern but always kind when she needed to be. Her olive skin was weathered, but still beautiful, and her earth colored eyes that usually held warmth could have Artemis cowering in a moment's notice if her ire was earned.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was worried to death; what happened, Artemis?" Paula Crock asked, coming up and taking her daughter's hand in her own. She eyed the Stanford hoodie and baggy jeans curiously, her eyes alighting on Artemis's face. "You are all sweaty, are you alright?"

Confused, Artemis swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. Sure enough there was a cold, clammy sweat there, despite the fact that she was burning up from her long trek home and up the stairs. The room swam in her vision when she held her side.

"I uh… need to sit down," she murmured, attempting to slip past her mom and staggering. Paula was there swiftly, grabbing her daughter's arm and helping to guide her into the living room, where she deposited her on the couch and crossed her arms sternly.

"Artemis, you are hurt, I can tell."

It was a statement, not even a question. Artemis scowled, pulling the Stanford hoodie up far enough to reveal the place she had been hurt. Paula gasped at it. The blonde looked down, happy to see that at least the rash hadn't spread any further along her skin; unfortunately, it looked ten times worse, incredibly red and warm to the touch of her fingers. The gauze was soaked with blood, leaving no white in it's wake.

Paula carefully removed the gauze, with much moaning on Artemis's part. She hadn't been as good at patching it up as Wally had, and some of the sticky areas keeping it pressed to her skin had latched onto more ragged, sensitive areas.

"Vật độc," the woman whispered, letting her index and ring finger trace the edges of it. Artemis hissed in pain, teeth grinding. "You have been shot with silver. Artemis, what has happened?" she demanded more firmly, retracting her digits.

"It's an incredibly long and stupid story," Artemis insisted, laughing without much humor.

"Well, you will be telling me every detail of it after I make you some tea and get our first aid supplies. You are very lucky I know of a good remedy for silver burns, otherwise it would take you twice as long to recover."

"You're the best," Artemis murmured, rubbing at her eyes as her mom wheeled off to get her things.

It turned out the home remedy for silver burns was like the best thing Artemis had ever experienced. It was a thick, faintly purple-colored paste that contained a wide variety of plant ingredients, the most ironic being the incredibly deadly Wolfsbane herb. Artemis had been very disturbed to learn that her mother was rubbing potentially fatal things into her pores, but the woman assured her that it was such a miniscule amount, and so smothered by the other ingredients, that it's only purpose was a good one: neutralizing the silver's poison.

Talk about some serious irony.

Artemis practically melted into the couch as the cold stuff was spread evenly across the entire circumference of the injury; it leeched the pain right out of her, coupled with Paula's famous traditional tea. By the time her mother was rubbing the remainder of it off of her hands with a soft towel, Artemis was curling her toes into the carpet.

"Fenrir, I need a minute alone," she groaned jokingly, handing her cup over for more liquid therapy. "That stuff feels amazing. It's like nothing ever happened!"

"Artemis, your story? Finish it, please," Paula said while filling the fine china back up.

"Oh, yeah. That's pretty much it, actually," she shrugged. "The guy patched me up, and I left."

"You are incredibly lucky he was around… my daughter, almost left for dead in the rain," Paula frowned, her eyes looking shiny as she reached out to lay a hand over Artemis's. Artemis smiled at her, patting it.

"I would have been fine, mom," she lied, swallowing thickly. The older woman wiped at her eyes before grabbing for the gauze in her first aid kit. Her hands fumbled a bit with it, but she composed herself quickly, all business again.

"I do hope you thanked that nice man," she said, eyeing her threateningly. Artemis snorted.

"Of course, mom, I'm not completely stupid. He could have gotten himself into some serious shit though, helping me like that… what an idiot."

"He had no clue, Artemis. To him he was helping a fellow human, and that is a beautiful thing. The world could use more honest men like him, if you ask me."

The words reminded Artemis of what her dad had said to her before she left the headquarters.

"Oh hey, by the way, when I reported in to dad, he told me to tell you that you were right about me, or something. What's that supposed to mean?" Artemis asked, letting the hoodie fall back over her soothed abdomen as soon as her mother had finished taping it up tightly. She twisted her body experimentally, pleased that only a small twinge of pain still existed; Paula had healing hands.

Her mom remained silent so long that Artemis looked up her, shocked to see a pleased smile stretching across her kindly face. "Uh, mom?"

"Oh, it is about time," she mused, taking a sip from her own glass of cool tea before explaining. "I told him long ago, when you were still very young, that you had a strong heart, a kind one. I told him that you had a spirit very different from your sister's, one that would not be broken by his best efforts. He, of course, tried his damnedest to break you... but, my beautiful Artemis, here you are, just as stubborn and hot headed as he is, yet you are so very different. Your spirit is still very much intact, and it angers him to see it so."

Paula's words were so proud that they made Artemis feel uncomfortable. She turned her head to the side, clenching her fists against the couch cushions.

"I think you're forgetting all the shit I've done, mom. He did get to me. At least a little."

A weathered hand pushed beneath her chin.

"Artemis, look at me." Reluctantly, she obeyed. "Artemis the things your father has made you do would break a lesser woman. I only regret I could not find a way to keep him from you, but what is done is done. As much as we would like not to admit it, he has made you stronger. The fact that you have weathered all the obstacles he has put before you only proves to me that you are a kind, compassionate young woman that was meant to help others, not hurt them. This life has shaped you, but it has not changed you one bit from birth. Do you understand me?"

The blonde bit at her bottom lip.

"I… think so, mom."

"Good. Now, I want you to go and get your rest, the remedy will be of no use to a body that is not relaxed," Paula said, turning away to pack up all the supplies she had used. Artemis, her mind still trying to wrap itself around all the things her mom had just said to her, got up, intent on heading to her room. "Oh, and Artemis?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. I am so glad that you are safe. I... don't know what I would do, if something happened."

Artemis looked at her mother, only to find that her head was still bowed over the first aid kit. A lump formed in her throat, but she managed to swallow it down enough for words to have an exit route. She laughed, a low sound.

"Oh, you know me mom, I always come back. I'm too stubborn to die."

She turned and went down the hall to her room, closing the door behind herself with a click. For a long while she rested with her back against it, unable to keep one corner of her plump lips from pulling upward a fraction. Never had she heard her mother speak so certainly, or so passionately from her heart. It was kind of scary to have something like that directed her way, especially when she looked at the timeline of her life.

But it also felt really good to hear that sort of thing. Even if she might not be entirely convinced.

With a sigh, Artemis dragged herself over to her bed and flopped down onto the worn mattress. The springs creaked as she shifted on top of the messy blankets, and Fenrir, she was just so damn tired. Outside, the birds chirped out as the day wore on into noon, but the blonde was ready to sleep until the crickets sang.

She closed her eyes, everything that had happened in the past twelves hours flicking around beneath her eyelids, some good, some bad. Most bad, actually.

She breathed deeply through her nose, humming at the pleasant scent that filled her nostrils.

Laundry detergent and chemicals. A strangely soothing smell.

Wally West.

She had almost forgotten about still being clad in his borrowed clothes. A yawn ripped from her throat as she settled more firmly into her pillows, her mind already beginning to drift away from her.

Wally West had been one of the good aspects, she supposed. He wasn't really so bad, for a moron.

She really should return his clothes. He at least deserved to see that she was still alive, didn't he?

Yes, she could see him again, at least for that.

After the full moon in two days.

After she had slept for a week. A month, maybe.

Yeah, that'd work.