AN: Thank you so much for all the reviews I received! I wasn't expecting such an overwhelming response for just the first chapter.

Picks from the playlist this week are: Putting the Dog to Sleep by The Antlers, Teassallate by Alt J and All Through the Night by Noah and the Whale.

She's still blushing when she reaches his bedroom, the door predictably shut. She allows herself a few seconds of glaring at the stained white oak before she knocks once, not waiting for his answer before she lets herself in.

The smell of walnuts hits her, as it always does; nutty and fresh and too comforting to her to be an actual comfort, not now at least. Not when the person she associates it with the most is sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking up at her moodily. Not now, when what she wants to say and what she knows she must say are so completely opposite of each other.

Not now, when she has try to break his heart.

Not now, when she has to talk the one person she actually wants in her life to get out of it, permanently.

Not now, when he's already looking at her with hurt in his eyes.

It's not comforting. Not now.

"… What?" Wally asks, expression caught between agitation and curiosity, ginger hair spiking oddly at the back of his head from running his hands through it. "I thought our next debriefing wasn't for another hour?" He asks her accusingly.

It takes her a second to figure out what she wants to say, her eyes taking a moment to scan the room and the muscles in her back tensing against the door, as if silently willing her to turn around and not bother. "You ran out of there pretty fast." She muses, forcing herself to take a half pace away from the door and fold her arms across her chest. "… Even for you."

It's not an answer to his question but she takes it as a good sign when he adjusts himself backwards into his bed, muscles unwinding and resting against his headboard. "Oh. Right…"

Neither of them look at each other, both picking random articles to stare at rather than each other; it's far easier to look to her right and address his pile of dirty laundry than look back at him and try to read whatever is written on his face. "… Are you going to tell me what's bothering you? Because that might make a few things easier." She suggests to a discarded button down after a few seconds.

For some reason Wally lets out a dry chuckle, so unexpected that it makes her head whip back and her eyes pull him into focus; he's got his head in his hands, the heel of his palms digging into his eyes and fingers scrubbing at his fringe. "Oh man. I guess so, huh?"

She waits for him to reply, and he doesn't. "… Is that a yes, or—"

"You were going to quit because of how I treated you." He cuts her off, head still in his hands. It's not a question.

She swallows again, her fingers flexing and relaxing around her elbows for a moment before she decides how to answer, feet automatically walking another few paces until she's at the edge of his bed. "… It wasn't just because of you. I mean… Dad had already made me the offer. I just hadn't—"

He cuts her off again, this time lifting his head; she hates the expression there, hates how upset he looks. "But I made the decision easier."

The honest answer is yes.

"… Wally—"

"I did, right?"

"God!" She bursts out, and now she's the one what has her head in her hands; there are stars bursting against the backs of her lids, nails on the verge of clawing at her eyes just so she won't have to see that awful expression on his face ever again. "Will you just stop! Just… stop being so dramatic. I can't think when you're like this, okay?"

For some reason she decides to sit down, elbows braced on her knees and a wrinkle popping over her nose, weight jostling the mattress. She doesn't like what he's doing to her, doesn't like that he's making her lose control; at once she has to keep her breathing in check, teeth clenching as she forces her lungs to move, forces air to get into her body and forces herself not to be bothered by the fact that he's still looking at her like that—

The bed shifts and she can feel the heat he always seems to radiate coming off his body; his quilt is rumpling between them, and just when she's wishing that it'll be enough to keep a barrier between them she feels a hand on her back. "I'm sorry, Artemis." He says quietly.

She doesn't know what he's sorry for; sorry for being so dramatic that it made her head spin, sorry for asking too many questions. Sorry for walking out before, sorry for bringing up her father- she's a walking ball of hurt, a wounded dog, someone put her out of her misery-

She lets him keep touching her while she gets herself into order; it is comforting, she supposes, the way his hand fits so neatly into the small of her back. He's doing something funny with his thumb, dragging it in circles like he did once in her mother's kitchen, a comforting gesture she had thought was borrowed from one of his parents. She hates to admit it but it helps, and before long she sucks a deep breath in.

She can do this.

"… It wasn't just you." She begins, removing her hands from her face and letting them run down the length of her thighs, back and forth along the denim. "It was a lot of little things. I don't know how to… He's still my Dad. I've seen him kill people, Wally. I've seen him- he could have done that to me a thousand times over. And even if I had to beg and bleed for him to keep me alive... He never hurt me. At least not bad enough to kill me."

When she glances at him his brows are furrowed, lips pressed into a straight line. "Artemis, just because he never... That doesn't mean... " Wally lets out a breath through his nose and seems to decide to take the conversation in another direction, shaking his head slightly. "And that's why you went back? Because he never killed you?"

She nearly throws off his hand, which is creeping up towards her shoulder, but instead she sighs, fingers fiddling with a loose thread sticking out of the knee of her jeans. "I don't know how to explain it to someone who hasn't… He kept me safe for all those years, okay? And I guess I always knew he kind of did it because of how much he loved my mother. And when he talked about wanting to be a family again… It was like I was free. Because if we went willingly, he'd always keep us safe, and we wouldn't have to worry about running from him, you know?"

His hand is past her shoulder now, forefinger straying up behind her ear and sending waves of feathery light heat into her core as he brushes a few stray hairs back into place. "Well… I guess my next question is now what? Now that you've… You know. Placed your bet on our Team?"

It's a stupid way of putting it, and she can't stop her lips from quirking slightly and the nervous laugh that slips out between them. "I think I can say goodbye to ever feeling safe again." She admits.

Instantly there's a sour taste in her mouth, as if the weight of what she's just said has settled fully onto her tongue. She's never going to be safe, her and mom... It's a matter of time before he comes after her again, comes after Paula, maybe even comes after Jade... He'll come after anyone stupid enough to love her, stupid enough to get too close...

There's a half beat of silence in which neither of them says anything, and it strikes her as almost odd; there it is, she's said it in the simplest terms: she's not safe to be around, not least of which for her own problems but almost for the fact that she'll be endlessly hunted now—Sportsmaster won't rest, won't stop until he's avenged, she's a liability to anyone... Wordlessly, Wally's fingers trace the line of her chin, turning her face towards his.

She freezes.

He gets as far as leaning in, his mouth opening and pursing as if to take her lower lips between his; at once she's whipped her head back to face the door way, glaring at the wall. There's a horrifying moment where his lips caress her cheek (and despite herself and all her coldness she feels the heat flooding between her thighs and she suddenly can't help but want him to kiss her there a thousand times over) before he pulls back, his fingers dropping and puzzled by her reaction. "Artemis—"

He says her name and she feels fire, actual burning fire and it takes all her strength to curl her hands into fists and glare straight ahead; she can't do this, Sportsmaster will kill him. She needs Wally alive, she can't live without him, she needs him to be safe-

"That wasn't an invitation, Wally." She says as stonily as she can, ignoring the startled look on his face and brushing past his hands, already standing.

He looks panicked. "Artemis—No, I'm sorry. I know, what was stupid—"

"No kidding!" She bursts out. "You can't just—You can't kiss me every time we're alone Wally, that's not how this is going to work."

They're both red in the face, no longer heroes who can talk about her father logically—they're just two dumb kids, raw and hormone driven, pretending to be adults. She's back to crossing her arms and glaring at the laundry pile, not looking at him when he speaks. "… How is this going to work, then?"

It's a dumb question and she wants to deck him for it. "We're friends, Wally. Just friends. Friends who won't kiss each other, friends who are just friends!" She can't stop the frustrated sigh that escapes her lips, can't stop the way she shifts her posture to be more threatening, and non-verbal warning that he should stay away from her. "Didn't you hear anything I just said? I'm—I'm no good for you, okay? I'm going to put anyone who gets close to me in danger, and not just from my Dad—I can't even talk to you without nearly having a panic attack, how do you expect me to—"

"Artemis—"

Stay away from her, she's a kicked dog and she'll bite him, make him bleed, make him crazy in the same way she is-

"I'm messed up, Wally!" She bursts out, full on shouting and not caring anymore if the others hear; she has to get this through his head by any means necessary. "Go read Black Canary's folder: anxiety issues, post-traumatic stress disorder, trust issues, a history with violence—I'm not the kind of girl someone like you should be with, I'm not like, someone who you can take to prom or… Normal things with, okay? I'm bad for you!"

For some reason Wally's face goes dark, and when he speaks he's yelling too, rising from his spot on the bed until they're both standing three feet apart, bellowing. "God, and you were on my ass about being dramatic. How many times do I have to tell you, I don't care—"

"I care, Wally!" She screams, throwing her arms backwards and gesturing wildly between them. "I care! I don't want my best friend wasting his time, okay?"

Wally laughs, hard and bitter and unlike him in the worst possible way. "How many clichés is this speech supposed to have? Because I think you've reached your limit, Blondie. How about you stop trying to play the hero—"

"I'm not playing anything, Wally, we're heroes, this is what we're supposed to do okay, we're supposed to protect the people we care about—"

"By what, stopping yourself from ever doing anything you want to do because it would mean taking a risk? By taking the easy way out?"

"—You think this is easy?" She's so furious she actually can't speak for a moment, and apparently Wally feels the same—he's crimson in the face, scowling at her with clenched fists. She has to breathe in hard through her nose and exhale loudly before she can find her voice, and when she speaks again it takes even more effort to keep her tone level and controlled. "This isn't easy Wally. You know that."

"Could have fooled me." He spits at her. She watches his hands burrow themselves in his pockets, as if he's restraining himself from grabbing or hitting her, she can't quite tell. "So what are you saying then? You're running away from all this?"

Artemis is a born runner.

As he says it she hears her father inside her head, a stolen moment from all those years ago, and she has to forcibly grit her teeth to keep from lashing out at him. The better part of her wants to snarl in his face, wants to tell him she's not a child anymore; she doesn't run the way her father taught her, not away from things like this—she wants to meet this head on, deal with the consequences like an adult—

The better part of her is silenced as she stares at the carpet. "Yes."

She can feel the change in the air, can sense his feet shifting against the carpet. When she gets the courage to look up at him he's glaring at her, his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw sitting in a harsh line against his neck. "Fine." He says evenly, his tone as hurtful as it was the day he threw the sai at her feet. "I get it."

She doesn't know what else to say to him, the air as cold as ice between them as he turns his back on her.

"Just leave, please."

She blinks at his back and then recognizes the dismissal.

Predictably, Wally stops talking to her and as usual she's left wondering how to make things right. Also as usual she comes up with almost no ideas despite staying up half the night over-thinking; by the end of January she's jumpy and on edge and incredibly tired.

Uncharacteristically she clings to Zatanna and M'gann rather than Kaldur or Dick; she's tired of men at the moment, even if she also tires quickly of relentless girl talk and repeated analyzations of what exactly happened with Wally. January fades uneventfully and she suspects February will soon begin about the same.

Time goes on and she grows weary.

She wakes up one night on the couch in the Cave—she'd been watching some movie with M'gann hours ago—alone in the dim light with the television off. It takes her a moment of scrambling with the blanket someone had placed around her before she manages to sit up, messy haired and clothing askew.

There's a light on in the kitchen.

It's more out of habit than anything that makes her stalk towards the light switch—when she was younger she used to run around the apartment constantly, flicking switches and unplugging the refrigerator, anything to keep the bills down and her father out of one of his moods—when spots them. College applications, dozens of them, littering the island counter.

For some reason she stops, curious, one hand reaching out and moving the papers fractions apart so as to better see the university names bolded in fancy script at the top of the page. She's never given much thought, if any, to what she'll do after high school. Anything that remotely resembled higher education never seemed like an option to her, what with how scarce money is to begin with and how expensive student loans supposedly are. She's never really imagined a future of any kind… And now that she is, she can't imagine doing anything other than being a part of the Team…

Maybe that's what she's meant to do? She'll be like Black Canary, mentoring new recruits and teaching them how to be better heroes… Eventually her civilian identity will fade away, and she'll just be Artemis: the archer, instead of Artemis: the girl, the train wreck, the live wire of a person…

She hears the sound of a sigh escape someone's lips and manages to remove her hand just in time, resuming her footsteps towards the refrigerator and nearly bumping into Rocket in the process.

It's been nearly a month since the ebony girl joined the team and yet she can't place a moment in which she's really been alone with her; they've spent time together yes, but always within the confines of debriefings or in the presence of others. She's long since come to terms with the fact that she's bad at making friends.

"Morning." She says, glancing at the clock on the stove to double check—yes, it's 12:30, it's technically morning (since when does she feel the need to be technical)— the sound of her voice jarring Rocket slightly and pulling her eyes into focus as she settles into a stool she's obviously been occupying, her hands opening a laptop.

Rocket glances at her, short hair a little mused. "Hi." She says, sounding exhausted. There's an awkward silence that is only broken by the sound of the fridge opening and closing as she extracts an apple.

"… What are you doing?" She asks more to break the silence than anything, quickly biting into the apple when Rocket simply looks up at her, looking haggard.

"Oh, you know. Just questioning my entire sense of purpose. The usual." The darker girl sounds slightly stressed, one hand waving a little too carelessly around at the mess of paper before she explains. "I'm applying for college." She doesn't really know what to say to this and instead takes another hearty bite of apple, nodding her head and hoping whatever is written on her bulging cheeks is of some comfort to the older girl.

Apparently it is and Rocket nods her head back, looking soothed. "I know. Not fun. I don't know why I thought taking a year off after high school to fight crime would make my life any easier. It's not like I can put that on a resume." She pauses, rubbing her eyes, and Artemis seems to sense that she's gone as far as she can into this conversation without actually saying anything.

"What do you want to go to school for?"

To her surprise Rocket gets oddly sheepish, a small smile playing on her lips. "I always thought I would be a good writer."

She doesn't really know what to make of this information and catches herself nodding her head robotically. "Huh."

She pegged Rocket as smart almost the second she met her, even more so when she discovered that her powers weren't meta, but rather the result of her own engineering; she's had the exact mechanics explained to her multiple times and her only real take away is that it involves harnessing kinetic energy and something else equally nerdy sounding. All she knows is that it's alien tech and beyond her understanding.

Rocket watches her take a final bite of the apple, her chin resting on the fold of her hands. "What about you? Ever considered college?"

She shrugs and Rocket nods again, looking as if she's analyzing everything she says. "Not really." She says truthfully.

There's another awkward silence, Rocket's fingers playing with a few keys of her laptop. "… What about anyone else on the team? I mean, you're all smart kids…" To her surprise Rocket's cheeks suddenly redden. "I mean, look at Kaldur. He's really intelligent, good at critical thinking, level-headed…"

Something in the way she trails off quirks her interest, and before she can stop herself her lips twist up into a smirk. "Yeah, he is. Single too." She says casually. She's trying to set the two of them up and suddenly it's official, she's been hanging out with Zatanna and M'gann too much.

Rocket blushes even redder and smiles sheepishly. "Ah."

For a moment she watches the other girl simply fiddle with applications, the sense that she's handed over some important information settling through the air. "Well, I'm going to head out. See you, Rocket."

"Call me Raquel."

She grins. "Right. Raquel."

On their last debriefing Roy joins them, looking rougher than she's ever seen him before; there's scruff about his chin and what she can see of his eyes behind his mask looks swollen. Bumpy. Uneven.

He fills the vacant spot beside her, the one that everyone had been leaving open with the hope that Wally would sit there (it's been just as unbearable for the rest of the Team as it has been for her—she knows they can't enjoy the tense silences and the muttered bickering between the two of them but it's not her fault, she doesn't know how to fix it.) He doesn't greet her beyond a scowl and a pointed nod before he crosses his arms and glares opposite.

Everything about him looks jagged; from the stubble on the line of his jaw to the ruffled hair at the back of his neck, he hardly looks like the Roy she knows—he looks haggard, unsleeping, like she supposes she must look too. He catches her stare and switches to glaring at her. "What?" He barks out.

It hits her hard across the face: sweet grass and stale liquor and not the smell she'd once associated with Roy (day old cologne, dried sweat and something woody, maybe cedar) but the smell of someone else, someone strong enough to twist his scent and turn it into her own. It's Jade, Jade on his breathe, and Jade who had once kissed him—Roy's seen her sister, Roy's been close to her—and his lower lip is swollen ever so slightly like he's been—

"Alright." Black Canary calls them all to attention opposite the table they're all seated at, and Roy makes an annoyed noise at the back of his throat as he dismisses the look on her face—she's wide eyed, shocked, slightly furious—in favor of focusing on the older woman. "I know you're all sick of going over this, and I promise, this will be the last time…"

She's not paying attention anymore, her back rigid in her seat and her nostrils flaring, drinking in the smell that's radiating off of him. She hasn't seen Jade since they both betrayed their father, hasn't managed to find a way to relay a message of any kind of figure out a way to find out if she's still safe.

But Red Arrow has.

Which begs the question… Why? And How?

"Artemis? Are you listening?" Black Canary calls to her, and at once several eyes snap towards her, including Wally's.

She blinks once at him despite herself and something shifts in his face; the corners of his apple eyes relax and he's reading something on her features that she's too slow to erase. "Yes. Sorry." She says blankly, pulling her eyes away from Wally and settling to look at Roy beside her, eyes still wide and probing his face.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Wally's ears redden, but she's not paying attention to him now—she leans back slightly, arms rising behind her to pretend to straighten the knot of her pony tail. It takes little effort to tilt her head as she does it, turning her face towards Roy.

He glances at her as she inhales quietly enough not to attract other's attention and at once she knows that he's aware of what she's doing; his spine tenses and suddenly he's leaning away, weight shifting in his chair until he's as far from her as he can be without being obvious to the rest of the group. The movement is as good as a confession; they both know that between the two of them she has the better sense of smell, all those years of being treated like an animal at least partially turning her into one. He knows that she can sense her sister, and he knows that she'll want answers.

The meeting ends and he gets up too quickly, and before she's even at the zeta tubes she can hear the disembodied voice announce his departure. Wally slams cabinets in the kitchen and ignores her when she tells him to shut up.

Luck doesn't favor her until nearly a week later.

She's walking the Cave hallways without a real sense of purpose when she hears it; the dull thunk of metal tips against cork, the sound of a pointed arrow colliding with processed, old fashioned wood making her stop in her footsteps without really knowing why. Automatically she turns her head towards the training room door, her mind taking a few seconds to catch up to what her body instinctively knows.

Someone is firing arrows at her targets.

It's a silly thing to be upset about; she had made the targets out of sheer boredom during one of her first weeks at the Cave. They're made of roughly chiseled cork, the kind that would normally be used at an amateur shooting range. They don't exactly offer much of a challenge now—they're unmoving, battered—but they're good to practice with if your mind is elsewhere. She slips into the training room almost silently.

Roy's either distracted or out of practice; he doesn't even look up when the door clicks shut behind her. She's always thought it odd that he chose to be an archer; by trade they need to be built smaller, more lithe, muscles more compact than that of an average fighter. He's simply too big, there's no way around it—she watches as he sets an arrow and fires, muscles rolling and popping over his shoulders and the joints in his elbows—his stance is all wrong, his has to over compensate for his size with an odd posture, string stretched too tightly between the ends of the bow.

The arrow wedges itself imperfectly in her old target; he's nearly two inches off, the force with which he fired burying the tip too deep—she'll never be able to get it out without damaging the cork. He finally looks up when she clicks her tongue impatiently, looking round at her with a surprised expression when she speaks. "You know, it's polite to ask before you play with someone else's toys."

... She sounds so much like Jade without meaning to and she can tell he recognizes the familiar tone; she can see the shiver rolling up his spine and wonders what other words he's heard in that voice...

Okay, never mind. That's kind of gross.

He looks mildly offended behind his mask when she sends a disdainful look towards his imperfect shot, even more so when she grabs her bow and quiver off the rack where it's been resting. "Been watching long?" He snarls, not quite sounding threatening the way he used to.

"Long enough to know you're out of practice." She quips back, slinging her quiver loosely on her shoulder and moving to stand beside him. Roy doesn't say anything when she notches an arrow against her finger, one eye closed to better calculate her aim. "… Which I can only assume means that you aren't exactly fighting Jade off when you see her."

He visibly stiffens the way she had been wanting him too, her stomach filling with a quirk of satisfaction when she releases her arrow, his eyes following it until it's twanging against the center mark. "… We aren't going to talk about that." He tells her, voice sharp as if reminding her of something they've already agreed upon.

"She's my sister, Roy—"

"Don't call me that." He bursts out, neck reddening and jaw snapping towards her, glaring. "… Don't."

She's not much in the mood to tolerate his whining, not up for counselling him with whatever emotional trauma he's going through. Instead she lowers her bow, eyes narrowing and hip cocked to the side. "Fine, Red Arrow." She snarls, continuing to speak before he can cut her off without another outburst. "Where is she?"

"We aren't doing this, Artemis."

"Why not?"

"Because we aren't."

She can't stop the frustrated noise that jumps past her lips—why did it have to be Roy, why couldn't it be anybody else, someone reasonable—her annoyance only mounting at him when he turns his back on her, already squaring back to face the targets again. "Red!" She sighs, deciding to switch tactics, rounding on him and standing directly in his line of fire. "Just listen to me—"

"No, you listen to me, Artemis." He says her name with so much venom that she catches herself tensing up, as if waiting for a blow. "We aren't going to be discussing you sister—"

"Whatever she's promised you, whatever she's told you she can help you with—" She's talking fast, hoping to get everything she needs to say out of her mouth. "She's lying, okay? Don't trust Jade. I know, I know, she reels you in and makes you think she's changed but trust me, trust me Roy—"

She makes the mistake of reaching for his bow as if to fling it out of the way—suddenly his arrow is clattering back in his quiver and his bow is colliding with her shoulder, swung upwards and beating her like a club, so hard and sharp against her collar bone that it almost makes her knees gives out. Her own quiver swings off her arm with the force of the blow, her arrows scattering around them and clattering against the tile; he's breathing heavily in her face, cheeks red and towering over her like he did all those months ago, except this time she's actually afraid.

She suspects that maybe Roy has a part inside him that's feral in the same way she is; maybe it's a legacy of being a clone, maybe it's just a legacy of his bad attitude, but either way he's looking at her and he's wild... Wild and ready to strike again.

"Don't. Call. Me. That. Name." He grits out through his teeth, the shock of the pain and his sudden anger forcing her into stillness; suddenly he's pushing her so hard back that she stumbles, nearly falling against the floor. "I'm not Roy Harper!" He yells at her.

He steps back abruptly, as if the fact that he's just attacked a teammate is resonating fully in his mind; she waits until he turns his back on her, fingers clutching at his scalp, before she gets a grip on herself and speaks. "Is that what she's helping you with? Is she trying to help you find the Real Roy Harper?"

"Artemis—"

"Answer me!" She bursts out. "Why are you seeing her? Where is she? What's she promised—"

This time she's expecting him to lunge at her; he's sloppy in his movements and it's easy to side step the second swing of a bow he aims for her, her wrist flickering of its own accord to compress her own weapon until it's down to the size of a small bat. With a whack she's landed a clean blow into the back of his skull, her leg kicking out to trip him as he stumbles—there's barely a struggle before he falls, back slamming against the tile flooring.

She's too quick for him—she's always thought that between the two of them she has better reflexes—her muscles tense as she climbs on top of him, denim stretching across his chest. With the precision she's grown up knowing she shifts her weight as he thrashes out below her, one leg curled beneath her and locking his thighs against the ground, her other stamping on one of his hands and grinding the bones into the floor as he tries to throw her off.

She'll break all the fingers on his hand if she has to do, she'll see how much pain he can endure before he tells her what she needs to know-

She'll find her sister, she'll save her sister, she doesn't need Speedy's help to do it-

... Roy's not the only one with a dangerous side he can't control...

Roy's groan is hoarse as she presses her compressed bow against his wind pipe, her other hand pinning his forearm to the ground as he keeps struggling, mask wrinkling against his eyes as he tries to cry out in pain. "Answer me!" She screams at him, mercilessly crushing his hand with the bottom of her boot—He hit her first, she reminds herself, this is self-defense—

She eases off his throat just enough for him to gasp slightly, his mouth forming words so quiet she can barely hear him above the sound of his shoes squeaking against the floor. "She—doesn't want you to—to know."

She nearly snarls in frustrated, her half second of annoyance enough for him gain the advantage he needs; the toe of his shoe manages to hook around to the front of her shoulder and before she can do more than jump in surprise his foot has caught her full in the breast, thigh bending and shoving her backwards with a ridiculous amount of force. She cries out when she hits the floor, air knocking itself out of her lungs as he scrambles on top of her, pinning her in an almost text book manner—hands bracing against her forearms, seated on her stomach and feet hooked over her kneecaps, making it impossible to bend her legs.

Roy breathes once in her face, and again she smells a piece of Jade there, hidden in the back of his throat where she had smelt before. "She doesn't want you to know, Artemis." He repeats, voice still hoarse from her choking. "She's trying to keep you safe." It's ridiculous and childish but she actually tries to beat her fists against the floor, the edges of her feet maybe getting half an inch above the floor before she bangs her heels down in infuriation.

She hears the door knob turn and this time so does Roy; he makes a mistake of loosening his grip on her forearms and at once she's on him again, her compacted bow striking him against the shoulder and forcing him to shift back his weight; she hears voices just as she's kicked him backwards.

It's Wally and Robin and immediately as she gets to her feet she can hear their conversation break off, Robin's voice faltering and coming to a complete stop as they take in the scene: her and Roy both red in the face and out of breath, muscles tenses and eyes glaring at each other, arrows scattering around them. She decides to ignore the looks she's getting from her teammates and instead turns to face her sparring partner, still winded on the ground, blowing a loose piece of hair out of her face.

Roy looks at her and she looks at him and instantly even though no words are exchange she knows they're both thinking the same thing: This isn't over.

She doesn't say anything to the men in the room, her lips spitting a piece of hair out of her mouth; instead she turns on her heel and stomps towards the exit, fully aware of Wally's eyes on her back.

The weather outside turns cloudy come the first week of February; they're back to the wet snow of the previous months and all the moisture in the air turns her hair limp and lifeless. It's harder to breathe somehow and she feels as if she's always drowning.

She's standing alone at their window, her and Wally's window, something she's been doing a lot lately with her eyes out of focus and her breath fogging the glass. Roy hasn't made an appearance at the Cave since they fought...

Why would Jade and Roy be seeing each other… Vividly she remembers watching them kiss the one time, remembers how unnaturally their lips had pressed together in the heat of a fight. But that had been one of Jade's taunts, designed more to get inside her head than anything. And yet... No, Jade's helping him. It's the only real reason, the only possible reason they would team up; they're finding the Real Roy Harper, they're not... They're not sleeping together.

Something dark moves along the shoreline of the beach and vividly against the white of the damp, snow covered sand she can see Kaldur. Without thinking she grabs a random jacket off the back of a chair, already heading towards the beach hanger.

"Kal!" She calls for him a few minutes later, boots instantly freckled with sand as she jogs towards him. It's as if he's been waiting for her, turning to look over one shoulder and smile his mysterious smile at her. Connor's jacket slips slightly as she stops—she can only assume it's Connor's, it has the warm leathery smell he always seems to carry around with him and the fabric is so loose on her it hangs off of her like saggy folds of drapery—and he reaches for her, not to embrace her but to straighten the coat on her shoulders.

"Artemis." He says her name in greeting, replacing his hands at his sides. He's got an odd sort of look on his face, as if wondering why she's seeking him out of all people, as if he's really noticed her absence from his side in the recent weeks. The look makes her feel instantly guilty and not brave enough to look anywhere other than at their feet.

His feet are bare and dipped in the freezing ocean water—but, she supposes, it must feel cool to him, almost comfortable. "Thinking about going for a swim?" She asks teasingly.

Kaldur grins at her, one of his rare ones that actually shows his teeth—slightly yellow, canines more curved than that of a regular humans, and she wonders if he missed her. "No. I am simply thinking of home. It feels… comforting to be closer to the water."

He looks away from her, turning back to face the ocean. He hardly looks cold; in fact, he's got the zipper of his jacket undone almost halfway, the freezing bite of the air not bothering him. She takes a half step forward to stand beside him, wincing slightly when a wave washes up a little too far, icy water seeping in over her toes.

They're quiet for a while, the two of them just listening to the sound of the water and the noises of overhead gulls as they caw over the beach in search of scraps. For the first time in weeks she feels calm; not like with M'gann when the martian is projecting emotion onto her, or when Zatanna talks long enough for her to be soothed. It's real, organic comfort: just her, Kaldur, and the ocean.

She sighs, and as if he knows what she's thinking he looks at her, expectant and waiting for her to tell him why she's been avoiding him, why she's been acting so miserable and short tempered. Like it is with anyone else talking to Kaldur isn't easy, not when she's faced with the knowing look in his milky eyes; as usual she can't find the words she needs to say. "… Do you miss home, Kaldur?" She asks.

It's not the question he was expecting, his jaw dipping as he glances down at his feet and the waves that hit his toes. "Sometimes I do, very much. Yet the longer I am here the more I realize that it is not as much Atlantis I miss, but rather one person…"

The way he trails off quirks her interest, and immediately she's curious and wondering if she had been wrong to tell Raquel that Kaldur was available. "Oh? … Do I get to know who this one person is?"

She's never seen him blush before but suddenly his cheeks are darkening, not quite red but not quite anything else, a blotchy pattern that leaks down the edge of his face and colors his gills. "Her name is Tula—"

"Tula?" The name jogs her memory; at once she can recall the way he had looked when he had last spoken the name—he had been heart broken.

Kaldur seems to understand the confused look on her face, the corners of his mouth quirking. "You are remembering correctly. The last time I had visited Atlantis… She had chosen my best friend over me. But that does not stop me from caring for her deeply." Something on his face changes, and suddenly he looks light, carefree, and almost as young as he actually is. Unburdened. "Tula and I have been conversing; like many other Atlanteans her age she is growing curious about the surface world. I am hoping she will take time away from her studies to visit us."

She smirks, quirking a brow. "So you're trying to talk a girl into leaving her boyfriend for you? Bold move, Kal."

"No, not to leave him. Simply… visit. And perhaps see things from my point of view."

The way he says the last part makes her laugh, and even though he still looks a little offended by her presumptions he chuckles too. It feels good, laughing. Before long her lungs ache and her stomach is sore and she feels lighter than she has in a while.

It takes them a minute or so to calm down but after a while they're both beaming at each other, Kaldur reaching out once again to adjust Connor's jacket so it sits straight on her shoulders. "It is nice to see you laughing. You have seemed so… unlike yourself, these past few weeks."

She can't think of anything to say, her smile fading slightly from her mouth. "Yeah, I know."

Kaldur hesitates, then turns away from the ocean all together, focusing his gaze on her fully. "I have been hearing things... Artemis, I did not think I would ever have to remind you that attacking a teammate-"

"Roy isn't technically a teammate." She shrugs, only half kidding.

Kaldur doesn't look particularly soothed, still watching her carefully. "That is not all that concerns me." He pauses again, as if considering his words. "… Wally has seemed distraught as well. The two of you have also been bickering quite often."

"Kaldur." She says warningly.

He doesn't pay her any mind, instead narrowing his eyes and continuing to speak. "I will not pretend to understand what is going on in either of your minds or hearts; I am not that arrogant. But I have seen the two of you grow and come to care for each other. You have opened yourself up to him in ways you have not with anyone else on the Team, even with me who—forgive the assumption—you share a close bond with."

He pauses as if waiting for her to say something, not backing down from the glare she's sending him nor faultering under her quickly blushing cheeks. "… I know you think it is easier, to keep him at a distance. I know that is what feels safest for you. But speaking as someone who lost someone he loves because of distance… You should not let your past determine your future, Artemis. It is an awful feeling, watching someone you care about finally leave you. No one can wait forever—"

"I'm cold." She says mechanically, already turning on her heel and ignoring the way Kaldur's face falls slightly. "I'm going inside."

He doesn't chase after her when she leaves, doesn't apologize for meddling. She doesn't know what frightens her more: the fact that he knows her so well, or the fact that he may be right...

Nobody can wait forever.

AN: Another chapter up and running! Please read and review and let me know what you think of the song selections for this chapter.