Disclaimer- Do not own Young Justice or any of it's characters.
Whelp... this is it people. The THING happens in this chapter.
EDIT: (12/15/14) Fixed things up a little because of reasons. Thanks Lizzie!
o.o.o.o
Chapter Length: 3,640 words
o.o.o.o
Gotham was surprisingly pleasant that evening, as far as the weather went at least.
People were still loud and obnoxious in the streets, hurrying home before the crime could rear it's ugly head for the night.
It was a damn shame the denizens were in such a hurry, because the smog was a little less thick and the air a whole lot nicer today, which was why Wally West had stopped at The Black Canary's Frozen Yogurt shop for a little treat on his way home.
The redhead took his time meandering down the cracked sidewalks, stopping to look at flyers in windows that interested him, slowly licking away on the jumbo-sized cone he had purchased.
He was feeling more chipper than usual that evening because he had finally plucked up his courage about asking Artemis out to dinner.
He just couldn't deny it anymore; he wanted to ask her out.
It was as plain as day for him now that he had sufficiently mulled it over. Artemis was amazing; she was strong and hot and smart and funny and he just really wanted to date her and see if it could lead to anything. He would be so stupid to pass an incredible woman like her up without at least dipping his toes in to test the waters.
Trial and error, just like scientific research.
And boy, he hoped it wouldn't end in error.
The next time Artemis came over to his apartment, he was going to ask her out.
Wally's phone buzzed as he rounded the final stretch of buildings to his house. He pitched the last of his sugar cone into his mouth, chomping down with a hum of delight as he pulled his device out to check the message he'd received.
It was from Dick.
No sooner had he flipped the phone open to read and reply, two police cars barreled down the street next to the redhead, sirens blaring the whole way. Wally watched them, brows knitting together, wondering if his friend was involved at all. The vehicles were heading straight for the slums, which just so happened to be Dick's common hunting ground for criminals of late.
Wally checked the message.
Dick:
Wally, I need you to promise me that you won't forward this to anyone. Delete it after you've had a good look, alright, bro?
What the… Wally scratched at his hair, stopping near a street light that had just flickered on above him. It bathed him in violent orange light, warping the view of his cell phone enough that he had to hold it up and tilt it in order to see properly.
Wallman:
What are you talking about, Dick? Is there something going on? Just saw two po-pos go barreling toward the slums.
Dick:
Oh, something is definitely up, and you're not going to like it. Don't worry, I'm fine… finer than that guy.
Wallman:
What guy?
Wally was irritated by his friend's crypticism, and was about to get on his case royally when the cell phone screen brightened, informing him that a photo was incoming.
His eyebrows rose. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see whatever it was Dick had just sent him; the cop had a notorious habit for sending him photos that were rather gruesome. Not for any disrespectful purpose, of course, but on an occasion or two Wally's outside scientific expertise had helped the policeman out with some of Gotham's notoriously oddball murder scenes.
Yet still, the fact remained that it was totally illegal to snag cell phone images of crime scenes, and it was just one of the many ways in which Dick's knack for laughter—or in this these cases, justice—at the expense of rules had bled into his adult life.
The photo loaded, the phone vibrating to let him know he'd received. Letting out a breath, Wally opened it up.
There was a dead animal on the photo. A dog, or a wolf?
Or rather, that was what it looked like at first glance. Perplexed, the scientist zoomed in on the crime scene for a much closer look.
Whatever it was, it was incredibly large, laying out on the pavement in a pool of blood, it's body easily as long and vast as the police car it was posed horizontally beside of. It's fur was ragged brown as far as he could tell in the lengthening shadows that stretched across it's form.
Three more photos arrived before Wally could even begin processing what he was looking at.
The first was a zoomed in shot of the wolf's face. It's snout looked pitiful and rough, the slits of it's eyes revealing a milky white hue that suggested it was, or had been, blind.
The second picture focused on a furry arm. Dick had obviously shifted the appendage out from under it's prone form, laying it out in a crooked shape for a better view. The muscles were thick looking under slightly sleeker fur there, but that wasn't what made Wally uncomfortable.
No, it was the hand.
It had a hand remarkably like a human's. Claws sprouted from the tips of the gnarled fingers in place of nails, and there was definitely an opposable thumb curling brokenly in toward it's padded palm.
"What the hell…" Wally muttered to himself, moving on to the final photo.
It was of the animal's lower body. It's back legs specifically, which were long and chorded, clearly designed for powerful jumping and fast movement. The paws on them were massive; a hand was pressing against the pitch black paw pads, which dwarfed the palm easily.
His phone buzzed again with a message.
Dick:
Well? Who was right and who was wrong?
Wally didn't know what to say at first. Of course it was clear that these photos were fake.
There was just no way a wolf could be in Gotham City, much less one of that size and girth, or with… hands. In fact Wally knew of no lupine species on the planet of that magnitude.
It was clear Dick was fucking with him. Big time.
Wallman:
Wow. Nice try, dude. You really went through hell for this one, didn't you?
Dick:
Are you serious right now? You think I made those pictures?
Wallman:
Well, maybe not you specifically. I'm saying you maybe got them from someone who believes in the werewolf stories. Oh Einstein, of course! You got the werewolf website from that little shit Bart, didn't you? You two are unbelievable.
Dick:
I was the one that pulled the trigger on it, Wally! Those two police cars you saw drive past are heading to it right now!
That made the redhead angry. Why was Dick so hellbent on tricking him with this, that he had to pretend he had killed a freaking werewolf? It was insane and he knew it!
Wallman:
You're really something, Dick. I can't believe you're that desperate to turn me into a werewolf believer. I bet some doped up teenagers went out and pretended to hunt one down, then posted it to the internet and you just couldn't pass it up, what with it looking so professional and right in front of a police car, too! Bravo, dude, bravo. Now cut the shit.
Dick:
You know what, I don't have time for you right now. I have work to do. Text me when you come to your senses you stubborn jackass.
Wallman:
Likewise, dick.
Wally slammed his phone shut, the frozen yogurt going sour in his stomach, making him feel sick as he marched home in bad temper.
He was so sick of this entire town going absolutely batshit around him, and expecting him to fall into the same hole they were. Well, it wasn't going to happen! Wallace West was smarter than that, and not even his susceptible best friend was going to convince him.
"He'll apologize later, once he realizes how ridiculous he's being," Wally reasoned in a low growl to himself as he finally reached his apartment. He shoved the wooden doors open, taking the stairs two steps at a time like usual. "I mean, come on… it's like the only two sane people in this town are me and Artemis!"
The redhead grumbled angrily to himself the whole way up to his floor. He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he padded down the hall that led to his room, so intent on fiddling with them incessantly in his anger that he didn't notice Artemis was right outside his door, leaning against the wall with a rather sombre expression on her face.
Neither of them noticed the other until Wally marched passed, his elbow brushing her breast, very quite by accident. The contact snapped both of them out of their thoughts, their eyes meeting in surprise at the appearance of one another.
"Artemis!"
"Wally! Uh, hey, I was just waiting for you to get back. You left your window locked, you dork," Artemis said, but her heart didn't seem fully in the tease. He could see something in her eyes but couldn't place his finger on it; he wondered if someone had pissed her off as well.
If so, he could definitely relate.
"Oh, sorry, Beautiful," he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck. He sighed deeply, bringing his hand up over his hair and down across his face, pulling at the bags under his eyes. "You know I forget sometimes."
"Yeah."
They lapsed into a mildly uncomfortable silence as Wally unlocked his front door, gesturing for her to go in first. The blonde neglected to give him her patented glare at the display of chivalry, something he noticed as she padded in and went directly to his couch. She flopped down on one of the seats and sat there quite stiffly.
"Uh, Arty?" the redhead asked, closing his front door and plunging them into a darkness barely penetrated by soft waning light filtering through the blinds over the kitchen sink. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah!" the blonde sang, jumping immediately back to her feet. Wally shot her a look. She was acting very odd, but as usual he knew better than to push it with her; she always told him sooner or later, he just had to be patient and let her come clean on her own time. "How was your day, Wallman?"
"Just peachy, up until Dick texted me, that is," Wally huffed, dropping his bag and light jacket on the floor next to the door. He rubbed at his face again, inwardly groaning. He had been so ready to ask Artemis out, but now here she was in front of him and he felt way too weary to spring such a thing on her.
She seemed too out of sorts herself; this whole evening was going down the toilet very fast.
"Oh boy, what did he do?" Artemis asked, her voice soothing.
"Ugh, just the usual, trying to get me all aboard the 'werewolves are real' train, except this time he's kind of crossed a line," Wally groused, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. He waved at Artemis to come over, pulling up the pictures as she moved toward him across the carpet. "He's acting like he fucking killed one on patrol a few minutes ago. He sent me these and he expects me to believe they're not photoshopped all to hell and taken by high teens. Just… ugh."
Wally shoved the phone into her hands, letting her comb over the images. He disappeared into his kitchen, digging around for a soda in his refrigerator, but not before moodily tossing a few morsels of leftover chicken into his mouth. "You want a drink?" he called through his stuffed cheeks, already grabbing a second one without waiting for her response.
"No, I… Wally can you… can you come here for a second?" came her husky voice, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. The redhead frowned to himself; something was definitely off about his blonde tonight.
Er, the blonde, not his.
But she could maybe be, a voice insisted in his head. He shook it away. He already knew that brain, he was working on it, okay.
"Artemis you sound really…" Wally dropped both of the sodas he was carrying when he reached the mouth of the kitchen. Luckily the cans landed on the gentler padding of the carpet instead of the solid kitchen tiles, softening the blow enough that they rolled away without spewing.
He gaped.
Artemis was pulling her clothes off. She had just finished pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it onto the back of his couch when he entered.
Then, without so much as a glance or any sense of decency, she unclasped her bra and flung it away as well. Her breasts came free, and his face heated despite the fact that he'd seen her before. He yelped and turned away, feeling deeply embarrassed, his skin so hot he couldn't stand it.
"Artemis, what in the world are you doing!?" he choked, hearing the telltale unzipping of her blue jeans. "Why are you—"
"Wally, I know this must seem incredibly fucked up or maybe fantastical to you, but I need you to turn around and just trust me, okay?" the blonde told him calmly, her voice cracking mildly on the word trust.
"I don't understand," Wally whispered out, still not turning to face her, his cheeks flushed all to hell. The house felt so stuffy all of a sudden, and his brain was desperately trying to make sense of what she could possibly want to show him or say to him or whatever after randomly stripping in his living room.
"For Fenrir's sake, Wally, just look at me," Artemis said as quietly.
Wally took a steadying breath, trying to calm himself and his rising body temperature. Finally he nodded, turning on the spot to face the nude woman. She stood there, steel gray eyes focused intensely on his face, her brows pressed together tightly.
"Wally, promise me you won't freak out," she said, one of her hands moving to rub uncertainly at her bicep. He opened his mouth to reply, to croak out anything reassuring, but it wouldn't come so he just closed his lips and nodded silently.
Artemis dropped her head, sighing, and then something insane happened. Something that made Wally wonder if he'd missed a dose of medication he'd forgotten he was taking, or if maybe that Oliver Queen jerk that ran Black Canary's with his wife had slipped some mary jane into his yogurt.
Artemis Crock began to change.
It was hard to describe exactly what he was seeing, because so much was taking place all at once.
Her body grew taller, and wider; but then there was also something happening to her face, an elongation that made him gasp out in fear of what pain it must have been causing her. He wanted to rush over to her at the first grunt of discomfort that issued passed her lips, but the sight of golden hair—no, fur—bursting into existence all over her body stopped him in his thought. It raced across her changing structure; along her arms, her legs, creeping around her thighs, traversing over shrinking breasts that all but disappeared under the onslaught of creamy yellow.
Pointed ears seemingly sprouted out of the top of her head, which now resembled something like a dog's. It was long and narrow and the teeth pulled back in a painful snarl were sharp and deadly.
When it was all over, there was an eight foot golden wolf standing in his apartment on it's back legs, perfectly balanced, right there in front of him.
Right where Artemis Crock had stood moments ago.
Wally nearly pissed himself. He didn't know what to say or do, then the wolf opened it's eyes and Artemis's stormy gray peered out at him, the very same ones he looked at nearly every day.
Wally's heart thudded, his brain screaming about a million things at him, but he just needed to know one thing.
"A...Artemis?" he croaked.
She nodded. Wally's knees felt like jello.
Oh, Einstein, oh, Einstein, what… what…
"Wally," the werewolf—no, Artemis—spoke. Spoke. Spoke to him in the same husky voice that could inadvertently send shivers down his spine if he wasn't prepared for it. "Are you going to be okay? I just… wanted you to see. To know. What I am."
Nothing.
Artemis looked at him, blinking, those large intelligent eyes moistening in the last light of the fading day when he just stared at her. She turned her head away, the ears on top of her skull folding flat in what he could only guess was despair.
It was then that he found the courage to speak.
"Artemis, you're…" he gasped. She turned to look at him. "You're a werewolf. I mean… an actual—"
"I am," she said simply.
"But, how—"
"I don't know, I just have been all my life. I'm sorry I didn't show you sooner, but…" she trailed off, not finishing. Her slate eyes flicked to the carpet beneath her paws.
Wally didn't need her to finish the sentence, he knew exactly what she was getting at. And how could he blame her for not telling him? He, after all, didn't believe in such things. He still wasn't sure he did, even with the cold hard proof standing there right in front of his face. He'd seen it happen and still his mind told him it had all been a trick of the light, or cinema magic, or… no.
There wasn't anything this could be but a… werewolf.
A real, live werewolf.
It was short circuiting his brain, turning everything he knew upside down.
Yet there was a tiny, niggling place in the back of his brain that told him he'd had his suspicions here and there, especially once Artemis had reacted to silver and wolfsbane. He'd combed Bart's website with mild curiosity and more interest than he'd have cared to admit. The pictures Dick had sent him had looked alarmingly genuine, but he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself; it was part of why he had gotten so angry at his best pal.
This entire time, his scientific side had been piecing together the riddle as each clue cropped up in front of him; he had known, somewhere in the methodical part of his mind that it was all true. Wally West was a scientist, but he was a scientist that had unfortunately been born with a personality attribute that Dick and his mother both liked to call "bullheadedness." It was an odd combination, for a scientist, who was supposed to be open-minded to all the possible outcomes, to have a knack for closing off things he couldn't explain fast enough with science.
Or things that had only been heard of in myths and horror stories.
Still, Wally felt a harsh pang of shame at the way he had been acting, like a hot lead weight dropping down into his stomach.
Wally looked at Artemis, and she looked right back. If it hadn't been for the honesty in her eyes he would have never believed that it was her in a million years; how could that be Artemis standing there with fur and without fire and steel in her eyes? But there it was, though dulled for the moment with the weight of the emotions rushing through her head, no doubt all worries and reservations and fear of his incoming rejection.
Wally wouldn't reject what was right in his face. If she had revealed herself the night he found her, he was ashamed to admit he would have rejected everything she was; slammed the door and spent the rest of his life reasoning with himself about what he'd seen here tonight.
But now he couldn't, not without lying to himself; to her, to Dick, to Zatanna, to everyone in this town that apparently wasn't as insane as he'd insisted.
What was that famous saying from the great Sherlock Holmes?
Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.
Wally West was now ready to admit the truth. She was standing right in front of him, waiting expectantly.
"Artemis, I think I owe you an apology," he said with a dry throat. It didn't matter if it was... illogical, it was happening to him and it was real. Time to suck it up for his friend. For Artemis. "I guess I was… wrong."
"Wally, no," Artemis began, sounding angry, but he cut her off.
"No. I was wrong, werewolves are real. You're real. I've been calling you a myth this whole time, even though you were right there in front of my face. The silver, the wolfsbane, the eating habits… how could I have possibly written it all off as something so… prosaic?"
"Wally, you were telling yourself what made sense to you, you don't have to apologize. I know how crazy this is, I've known it for twenty four years and it still scares me."
"I bet," Wally said in a tiny laugh of amusement, causing the dark lips of hers to pull back in a smirk.
Einstein, it was the same smirk she had as a human, too.
This was all too bizarre, too surreal.
"Wally…" Artemis began, but the redhead walked over to her, measured and calm despite the way his limbs still shook a little. The golden furred she-wolf watched him curiously as he approached, staring up at her with a mixture of all of his emotions swimming in his eyes.
Fear, relief, understanding… and love for a friend. He reached out with his hand and touched the fur on her forearm, the action making her eyes drift closed; he stroked the smooth fur down, marveling at the feel of it.
It was that solid touch, the sensory proof that finally did it for him.
He smiled up at her, the hand moving down to grip her gigantic, furry hand and lift it up between them. She opened her eyes, smirking at him as he gripped it tightly in his fingers; or as much of it as he could fit in his fingers, at any rate.
"I'm here for you, Artemis."
"I'm here for you, too."
o.o.o.o
Wallman:
Dick?
Dick:
…..
Wallman:
I'm sorry, okay? I was a stubborn jackass just like you said. I admit it.
Dick:
Well, the first step to healing is admittance.
Wallman:
No, the first step to healing is seeing with your own eyes and admitting it's been there the whole time.
Dick:
...Artemis finally showed you, didn't she?