AN: Again, a special thanks to those of you that reviewed!
In other news, I am considering looking into getting a beta reader. This story is simply proving to be a bit too much work for just me alone, and I feel like my eagerness to post quickly is getting in the way of my proof reading as well as I should. And to be frank sometimes I simply get tired of looking at my own writing for so long. To make a long story short, if you're interested please drop me a line either in the reviews or in my PM box.
Picks from the playlist: The Calculation by Regina Spektor, Of Angels and Angles by The Decemberists and, by the inspiration of Gemmaaaaa, Shake it Out by Florence + The Machine.
"So what's the plan now?"
They're walking back to the Cave, much more slowly than they were on their way down the beach—not that either of them are bothered too much by it. She finds it's easy to be content, even if her leg is really starting to bother her, when his fingers are looped between hers and the sun is still not quite set behind her. "I was thinking food." He grins at her, faltering slightly at the smirk she sends him and his predictably. "Oh please. Do you have something else in mind?" The last part is more teasing than anything, and she's surprised that the flirtatious tone he usually reserves for M'gann is suddenly being used on her, his brows waggling uncontrollably and disappearing into his hair.
She catches herself wrinkling her nose at him, fingers releasing his on the condition of shoving him as hard as she can, rolling her eyes when he yelps and over exaggerates his stumbling. "Food is fine, Wallman."
"Good. But if we're going to get there any time before dark—" He starts, and before he can finish he cuts himself off and turns towards her, arms outstretched. "Will you just let me carry you? This is taking forever."
She doesn't know why but seeing him standing there, unabashed and arms out stretched, sends what feels like a strike of lightning down her spine; for one truly terrifying moment she's not on the beach anymore. She's standing in ruins.
The last time he had carried her they had both almost been shot to death.
She can feel the wrinkle popping up over her nose, and even though she knows it's a little ridiculous she's still wary of the invitation of his arms, wary of the memories that linger there. It's no longer just the warm sand of Bialya and the comfort she had found in a stranger; it's the hot blood of the battle, the sweat dripping down his neck as she had clung to him, the vomit caked in the back of her throat. And even though she knows nothing will happen, knows that there are no soldiers on their beach and nobody wishing them harm... She's not brave enough to risk it. Not yet.
She can't quite stop the sour expression on her face, an uneasy quiver sounding through her stomach as she pointedly blinks, scrunching the whole of her face together for a moment in her own disgust with herself and her weakness—she has a feeling she'll never be able to see him run without thinking of it, without remembering the blood and the pain and the terrified look on his face. "No." She tells him firmly, and as if to illustrate a point she ignores the twinge in her thigh and increases her pace, sand flying out behind her as she stalks past him.
Wally makes an annoyed noise, unaware of the war raging inside her head; he stands still to watch her wobbly process up the beach for a moment before catching up to her easily. "It's not that bad." He says moodily, as if offended by the expression she's wearing.
"I know it's not." She snaps back, and suddenly she can feel all the warmth and happiness that filled her just a few minutes before draining out of her like blood down her leg. "I just... I'd just rather not, okay?"
She doesn't trust the silence that falls between them, and Wally makes it about three seconds longer than she's expecting before he glances sideways at her, hands in his pockets and no longer intertwined with hers. "I guess I get that." He pauses, and when he speaks again she gets the sense that he's wording things very carefully, skirting gently around mentioning what happened in Metropolis. "... I mean, nobody's ever told me what it feels like, I guess. I wouldn't really... I mean, for a regular person, I guess it could be weird."
She pauses, thinking hard, and doesn't get far beyond the ineloquent words that tumble out of her mouth. "It kind of feels like sticking your head out of an airplane window."
Wally snorts, and whatever tension there is between them breaks slightly at the sound of the short chuckle that bursts out of his mouth. "Because you've done that before."
She scowls. "No. But if you think about it—air whipping by you so quickly it makes your skin ache, everything moving so fast you can't see or breathe. It's just… Speed. And pressure." She pauses and Wally snorts again.
"I guess I could see it feeling like that for a normal person." He sighs, the way he emphasizes the word bothering her so much that her eyes narrow. "But for me… Have you ever played Super Smash Bros?"
Now it's her turn to snort. "Have I ever played what?" She asks incredulously.
For some reason Wally's ears redden, one hand escaping his pocket and rubbing predictably at the back of his neck. "It's a video game. I'll show your sometime. Anyway..." He hesitates again, and she can actually see his teeth working inside his mouth, canines tugging at the inside of his cheek. "My Dad bought it for me when I was a kid, back when Game Cube was the big thing. I kind of played it until the disc was practically falling apart; I had scratched the whole thing up, to the point that whenever I tried to play it the game would lag and the screen would freeze, and then after a few seconds the whole disc would skip forward and play normally for a couple seconds before it would stop working again."
"Okay." She says, not quite following.
"Running kind of feels like that. Like... Like everything else in my life is lagging behind or stuck at a stand still, and running is just the way it's supposed to be." There's a half beat of silence. "Maybe it's a stupid analogy. I guess it's kind of hard to explain to someone who doesn't have the right body chemistry to experience it, I don't know." He pauses, glancing nervously at her. "Just kind of feels like I get back control whenever I do it. Like that's how things are suppose to go."
She doesn't really know what to say to that and supposes it shows on her face, because when he looks at her again his mouth stretches it into a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I guess this is kind of a heavily conversation." He says, shrugging. "I just... Can I be an idiot for a second?"
He stops walking and after a moment she does to, turning back to squint at him in the sunset. "You're always an idiot." She says mechanically, but the smile on her face betrays any forced coldness in her voice; one hand raising to shield her eyes she blinks at him, watching the reddened ends of his hair disappear into the orange horizon.
Wally grins at her, quickly dropping his eyes to the sand and scuffing his heel. For a moment he opens his mouth, as if trying to get the nerve to say something, before quickly shutting it and shaking his head. "... Never mind."
For once in her life she has no desire to push him, no desire to dive into the depths of his mind and flip through it like pages of a book; she gets the sense that they're side stepping dangerously close to the conversation they've been putting off having all day, the moment when she'll have to look him in the eye and force herself into the vulnerability that comes with an open heart. She can tell he's nearly on the verge of revealing a part of himself to her, and as much as she wants that moment to come she's also terrified of it, like a small child who knows it will have to face the dark in order to find comfort in sleep.
Rather than speak she limps forward a few paces, one hand reaching out under the pretext of adjusting his zipper; Wally's eyes follow the movement of her fingers as they clasp together the bottom of his jacket, tugging the fastening closed across his stomach, dragging the teeth together until they come to an end just under his chin. "Let's go in." She says, rather than telling him that it's okay, that she understands, there are some things that are too difficult to say. "It's getting cold."
Wally's brows shoot upwards when she surges forward, one chaste kiss pressing against his lips before she pulls away, turning her back on him. She can hear him sputter slightly, as if trying to speak and failing to gather the nerve to call out to her and say what he meant to say before.
"Come on." She tells him after a moment, glancing back at him when she realizes he isn't following. "Didn't you say something about dinner?"
It takes another ten minutes—filled with her increasingly painful stumbling and Wally's increasingly more annoyed huffs when she insists, again, that she doesn't want to be carried—before they make it back to the Cave. Not unexpectedly, Wally beelines directly to the kitchen.
She has the full intention of heading directly to the couch, maybe a stool around the island, but she immediately gets side tracked when she automatically glances out their window, a habit she's picked up in the past few months; unthinkingly she changes course, slipping her jacket off her shoulders and throwing it to where his is tossed carelessly over the edge of the couch.
It's beautiful, more beautiful now than when they were sitting on the beach only a half hour ago. It's the first time in the New Year that the wintery sky has begun to defrost, the purple of dusk beginning to bleed into the reds and oranges and pinks; the last rays of the setting sun barely peeking out over the water and reflecting off the still waves as it disappears beyond the horizon to where she can't see it. It's like watching a new flower bloom in the spring; colors bursting from unexpected places and popping against the dull, white landscape, and even though her leg is aching and she knows, she knows she should sit soon, she stops walking right in front of it, one hand reaching out to press against the cool glass.
It feels like the world is turning, something new is starting, and maybe for once she'll get to be a part of it.
Wally comes up behind her, one hand pursuing a bag of chips, two cans of pop pinched in the crook of his elbow. "I thought you wanted to sit down?" He asks her.
For a half second they both watch her breath as it steams against the cool glass, framing her hand with moisture and leaving an almost perfect imprint of her palm when she pulls it back, wincing slightly as her knee twinges. "How about we sit here?" She asks, already lowering to the floor. In response Wally glances once pointedly at the couch before shrugging, giving her up as a bad job.
Wally's shoulder is burning hot against hers, his breath shuddering through his chest and matching the gentle rocking of the waves outside, and as the comfortable silence stretches between them she catches herself wondering if he's doing it on purpose. They sit like that for a long time, just looking out the window; Wally shares his chips and opens the tab on her pop can for her, and soon she forgets to listen to his breathing anymore, forgets to listen to the crunching of chips in his mouth or the sound of the fizzing of their pop. Her mind is too tired to do much of anything other than stare happily out at the water.
"So." Wally says after a while, beginning the process of licking grease and salt off his fingers. "What did you think of our first date?"
For some reason she stills, hand freezing halfway through the process of guiding the can of pop to her mouth. "This wasn't a date." She says automatically, snorting slightly.
Wally rolls his eyes at her "Yes it was."
"No it wasn't."
"Yes it was."
"No it wasn't."
"Yes, it was."
She can see they aren't exactly getting anywhere, and with a sigh she slugs a quick sip of soda back, half dropping the can back against the tile and turning to look at him full in the face. "Wally." She says gently, eyes narrowing. "If you think this was a date, then clearly there's something wrong with you."
"No!" He says slightly indignantly, glaring at her. "How wasn't this a date?"
For a second she blanches, mouth opening and closing like a trout. Technically, she doesn't have much to compare this to (nobody has ever really asked her out before, she's never really dated anyone, per say...) but she's seen enough of M'gann and Connor to know that it certainly involves a lot more than simply bumming around the Cave all day. Disregarding her gaping she stretches her leg out in front of her, trying to keep a cool head. "... How about you tell me all the stupid reasons you've deluded yourself into thinking this is a date instead?"
Wally finishes with his fingers and begins tallying points on his hand, looking stubborn and like he's already thinking several paces ahead of himself. "Well, I mean, we kissed."
She snorts again, swigging quickly from her drink. "You realize that if you're going by logic then technically we've also gone on a date in your bedroom. And on the Watchtower."
"And what's wrong with that?" He asks her, reaching over to prod her once in the side.
She glares when her whole body twitches at the movement, trying to keep the slight yelp inside her mouth should he realize he's just hit a ticklish spot. "Hm, I don't know Wally, maybe that fact that while we were on that supposed date the entire Justice League was trying to kill us?"
Wally opens his mouth to argue with her before promptly frowning; after a moment's hesitation he quails slightly. "Okay, point taken." He admits, before quickly changing his approach, gesturing at the chip bag on his lap. "But I made you dinner! That's never happened before."
"… I don't think opening a bag of potato chips and eating most of it yourself counts, Baywatch." She tells him dryly, sending an exasperated look towards the water.
"God, you're stubborn." She hears Wally hiss, but she's no longer paying attention to the annoyance in his voice; all of her sense are sharpening, eyes narrowing as she looks out their window, body knowing instinctively what her mind has yet to catch up to.
There's something moving on the shore.
Wally's still babbling in her ear about what exactly counts as dinner, unaware that she's not listening as her eyes struggle to pull whatever it is into focus, the dim light of the sunset combined with the reflection of the light off the water making it difficult to identify whatever it is. All the exhaustion that's slowing her mind is beginning to fade away, all the happiness from her afternoon with Wally blurring only her edges now; as if awaking from a long sleep her body twitches, sitting straighter, instinctively alert before her mind can catch up.
"What's that?" She asks him, pointing out the window and effectively cutting him off just as he's made the revelation that technically, technically, dinner counts as anything eaten after five but before eight.
Wally goes silent and squints, following her finger towards the shore. "… Looks like a person." He says, voice no longer light and teasing, leaning closer to her and out of the direct line of sunlight. Suddenly the air between them changes; there's not supposed to be people on their beach, they're supposed to be the only ones who can get to their beach—the fact that there's someone they can't recognize on their beach is very, very odd, and suddenly that fear she felt before, is back by a ten fold...
They're not safe from the Quarac soldiers, they're never going to be safe.
Wally looks at her, brows furrowing. "… Do you think we should-?"
He trails off, head swiveling to look out the window again; she knows they're both wondering the same thing, both wondering if they should go investigate or call the rest of the Team for back up, wondering if they should suit up and get ready for a fight. Before she can do more than shift uneasily Wally's already on his feet. "Stay here. I'm going to alert the others." He tells her firmly, pausing once to look back out at the unknown figure on the shore.
"Here," She says indignantly, reaching out to grab his wrist as she struggles to her feet, aching. "I'm coming too."
"Artemis." He says her name gently, looking as if he doesn't want to offend her. "… You're still… you know. Just wait here, okay?"
"Wait here?" She repeats, sounding offended. Immediately she can feel her cheeks flooding red, her eyes narrowing. "I'm still what, Wally?"
He hesitates. "… You know. Not… Exactly… Better." Pointedly he glances down at her leg and to her annoyance the muscle spasms, still aggravated from all their walking today. "I'll be back in a second Babe, just stay here where you're—"
"I'm not waiting anywhere! And excuse me, Baywatch, you're not exactly the picture of perfect health either-"
"Yeah, but at least I don't resemble a drunken toddler when I try to walk up the beach-"
In exasperation she glances angrily back out the window, whatever insult she's been preparing dying in her throat. "Kaldur." She cuts him off again, turning back to their window.
"… I'm Wally, actually." He snaps, about to sprint away.
She nearly hits him, instead reaching out to tug on his arm and stop him from leaving, pointing in a slightly manic manner until he sees what she sees: Kaldur, dark skin popping against the white of the beach, running towards the figure on the shore. She's expecting there to be a fight, expecting there to be weapons drawn from unexpected places, expecting to see his mouth open in a scream she can't hear; instead she feels her lips open in surprise when he embraces the strange figure.
"Tula." She says without thinking; now that she knows what she's looking for she can see her, the unknown Tula, arms flung around Kaldur's neck and being lifted off her feet in the affectionate embrace.
"What?" Wally asks her, still looking wary; for someone so fast his brain is moving oddly slow.
Out of respect for Kaldur she looks away from the window, no wanting to intrude on the moment. She tugs on Wally's wrist again until he gets the hint to sit back down, this time facing each other instead of the glass. "Who. It's just Tula. Kaldur's… ex-girlfriend, I suppose. From Atlantis."
"You've met her before?" Wally raises a brow.
She tells him as much as she can without revealing too many of Kaldur's secrets; how he had spoken of her in Atlantean, how she had broken his heart. "… I haven't met her. But Kaldur's told me a lot about her. When he decided to become Aqualad she… She kind of decided to date his best friend."
Wally noticeably winces, promptly glancing back at the two figures on the beach as they embrace again, looking as if they're talking enthusiastically. "Poor stiff. Wonder why she's here?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. I know Kaldur wanted her to come visit. I think he kind of got it into his mind that—" She glances back to the beach. "Oh god." They both watch a third figure appear out of the water; almost instantly the two people on the shore break apart, looking sheepish as they greet the other. "I think she brought Garth. The new boyfriend." She adds the last part as an explanation to Wally, and without verbalizing it they both quickly turn away from their view of the beach, no longer wanting to look at all, neither of them wanting to see the fake happiness Kaldur is forcing onto his features.
"Poor Kal." Wally says as they both press their backs against the glass, shoulders touching. "That has to be rough."
She nods, feeling odd at the pang of second-hand disappointment ringing through her stomach. "He's been talking about this for weeks. I can't imagine—" She pauses. "Sometimes it feels like he's always the odd one out, you know? Like everybody has somebody but him." She says it without thinking and quickly ignores the glance Wally sends her, his brows raised and silently questioning her.
They're back to not talking again, this silence a little bit more uncomfortable than the last—they're both caught in different thoughts, both too busy feeling bad for Kaldur and being a little stung by their bickering to do anything other than brood. He doesn't let her be quiet for long; before she can do much other than furrow her brows Wally's grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers between his.
"Speaking of boyfriends…" He starts and trails off quickly, brows raising hopefully despite the sour look that suddenly crosses her features.
"Wally." She sighs warningly; it doesn't feel appropriate, when her heart is suddenly so full for Kaldur, to have this conversation now. "Don't-"
He doesn't release her, his other hand folding onto of hers and holding her in place. "Sh. I'm in the middle of a charming segway here."
She glares. "God. Can you not be an idiot for five seconds?"
Wally ignores her meanness and instead finds courage in the blush that's rapidly coloring her cheeks, turning to better face her. "You're ruining this." He tells her, grinning when her eyes narrow some more. "Come on. How about… How about you and me?"
She doesn't really know how to react—she's never been asked this by anybody before, she's not exactly sure what the right response is—and instead follows her instincts, which are ill-adept at this kind of thing but at least give her a direction to talk towards—specifically, a very stupid direction. "You and me what?" She says, cheeks flaring.
"Don't play dumb." Wally says impatiently, ears burning red when he releases her hands, fingers running through his hair and sending waves of walnuts crashing against her cheeks, so over powering that for a moment that she catches herself holding her breath, holding part of him inside her. "You know. How about you be my girlfriend?"
When he says it an unpredictable lurch goes through her stomach, half excitement and happiness and half pure nerves, so powerful that suddenly she can't look at anything other than her shoes. "Oh." She says.
She doesn't know why the word "girlfriend" scares her as much as it does; it shouldn't, logically, as they already are in the loosest sense together. Maybe it's the fact that it implies commitment, it implies that Artemis and Wally would become Artemis AND Wally; it implies moving forward and maybe having a future. Being a girlfriend means meeting his parents and him meeting hers, it means naming that part of her that aches to hold him close and press messy kisses against his lips. It means defining something, it means pinning her back against the wall in surrender, it means finally, finally halting her running...
She stops the thought in its tracks. Artemis doesn't run anymore.
Wally is patient enough to wait less than half a second before he's talking too quickly, hair musing in odd directions has he runs his hands through it rapidly, apple eyes bright and anxious and struggling to read the stunned expression on her face. "That is—you know, if you're into that? O-or? I mean, I just figured… You know. I want to be with you. And... Uh. Never mind. Maybe... I mean, you're right, this wasn't really a date, and maybe that was too fast—but I mean, look at me, fast is kind of—"
"Wally." She cuts him off again, reaching for his hand and hoping her touch will calm him down; instantly he stops speaking, ears burning so hot she can practically feel the heat. "Slow down." She tells him almost as much as she tells herself, forcing all the anxiousness brewing in the back of her mind to still, looping her fingers between his and placing them carefully on her knee.
He looks nervous, so different than the raw confidence she saw a few seconds ago, as always moving too quickly for her to quite keep up; she watches his throat bob twice, eyes switching between hers so fast she's sure he'll go cross-eyed. "Okay." He pauses long enough to inhale a shaky breath, lungs quaking. "In what way specifically? In the talking way? Or the… You know. Way."
She nearly laughs in his face and settles for trying to smile kindly. "Just… Calm down, okay? You don't have to be nervous. It's me."
He looks confused for another few seconds before his face softens, his gaze dropping to their entwined hands. "… Yeah. It's you." He says quietly, and for some reason she senses that there's a heavier weight to the words; as if he's just remembering who he's talking to, just remembering that the girl beside him isn't as carefree with her heart as he is. "… Forget I said anything, okay? No pressure, or whatever. I'm just getting ahead of myself."
She doesn't quite know what to say, her smile slipping slightly when he goes back to sitting with his back square on the window pane. He's always been patient with her; always, with few exceptions, been willing to let her take her time reach her own conclusions, making her own decisions. Maybe it wouldn't kill her, just the once, to push herself before she's ready.
Being with Wally, calling herself his girlfriend, goes against almost every instinct she has. But then again, she turned her back on instinct the moment she turned her back on the door in his bedroom.
She opens and closes her mouth several times before she figures out what she wants to say, the nervous jump in her stomach forcing her to stutter. "M-maybe I can play catch up, then." She says dumbly.
She forces her mind into silence, instead willing herself only to focus on his reaction; she sees the profile of his eyes as they blink once before going wide, chin lifting before he turns his face to hers. "Is that a yes-?" He starts.
Her mind is screaming several thousand things at her which she ignores, focusing instead on the taste of his lips when she pulls him by the shirt collar towards her; it's awkward and a little clumsy with the angle they're at, and before she can do anything other than wince at the ache in her leg she finds herself shifting her weight, thighs stretching over his jeans until she's seated firmly in his lap.
Wally noticeably jerks when she settles; it seems to take him a few seconds before he registers what's just happened and what exactly it means, his lips unfreezing between hers as his hands fly to her waist, gripping tightly against her sweater. She hears the dull clunk of his skull against the window as she presses against him a little too eagerly, forcing his neck to crane backwards and hungrily reach for her.
"Sorry—" She pants, half pulling back; she can't help yelping slightly when Wally's teeth immediately take her lower lip, one hand reaching up to fit behind the curve of her skull, pulling her back in.
She groans when he forces his tongue past her lips, forces the walnut smell past her nostrils. It takes hardly any effort to ignore the whirring of thoughts inside her head, hardly a second glance to ignore every instinct when there are other, more urgent ones popping up at the front of her mind; it's animalistic, yes, but different then she's ever felt before... This is more alert, more raw, tiny hisses of hair bursting past her lips and morphing into softened mewls as the hand at the base of her pony tail runs down the length of her neck, barely brushing the jutting of her collar bone before taking her waist and grabbing her roughly; humming, she runs her fingers though his hair, back arching and breasts pressed flushed against his chest. She can practically feel his scent (walnuts, cinnamon, his mother's laundry detergent, and in this moment the salted air of the ocean) seeping inside her pores, sticking to the uneven ends of her hair; with another sigh against him she prays to whatever might be listening and asks the universe for permission to let her have this boy. Let him have her too, and let it somehow be okay.
It takes them several minutes to pull themselves together, a mess of limbs and lips and fingers raking down his neck and his nails digging into the swell of her hips; twice Wally lets out a groan in the back of his throat, the one that she so loves, his tongue shooting into her mouth so feverishly that she's caught between the urge to push him abruptly back through the glass window pane and more powerful need to pull him tighter against her.
Wally shifts his legs and immediately the hot point between her thighs throbs, satisfied for a half second before she nearly bucks her hips, wanting more. She's silently both thankful and bitter when Wally pulls back for air, red faced and out of breath as his head knocks back dazedly, colliding with the glass of their window pane again.
"Ow." He says in a slightly numb voice, shaking his head as if to clear it. There's a half second where he glances at her, as if checking to make sure she's actually there; she feels her mouth tug upwards with affection when his fingers shift against her hips again, almost pinching her as if to check that she's not just his imagination. "So…" He hesitates, exhaling through his mouth when she looks at him, half lidded with want. "So was that a yes?"
As he says it he lowers his hands almost innocently, palms skimming down her hips and barely pausing before they run down parted thighs and rest just above her knees; as if from observing herself from outside her body she hears herself let out a low hiss at the movement, barely managing to keep her hips from bucking and her head from tossing back in frustration. For a moment he looks curiously at the way her lips part, a slight wrinkle appearing between his brows when he reads the way her chest seems to suddenly stutter to life when she realizes she's stopped breathing; then, in a typical scientist fashion, he repeats the movement.
"Artemis?" The way he says her name is a mixture of questioning and teasing, and before she can even answer a small twinge runs through her as his thumb, so carelessly and freely, presses against the place where the bullet pierced her skin.
She knows it's not intentional, but the touch is enough for all the blurred and excited thoughts inside her head to still, enough to freeze over the warmth that seems to be radiating from his palms as he touches her. There's a half second where she can actually feel that terrible part inside herself lunge at the bars of the cage she keeps her in; she blinks once, and for the moment she's alone inside the darkness of her irises she almost kicks herself off of him.
When she opens her eyes she can see him looking at her a little quizzically, skin seeming to buzz with nerves; automatically she glances away from his eyes in shame, as if afraid he can see what's lurking behind the steely grey of her own. Without really knowing why her gaze slips down to his chest where she knows his scar sits, diagonal from his heart.
She supposes, when it comes down to it, the decision had been made long before this moment, long before the previous evening in his bedroom. It had been the moment when she had seen pieces of him pouring out of his mouth onto the ground, the moment she had seen him face death and darkness and saw the reality of life without Wally beside her. She thinks of herself cradling the dying boy on the ground, thinks of that person with her father's bow who she feels so disconnected to now, and knows what she would have done had she been given the choice. She knows what she would have given for one more moment, one more touch from Wally. She knows what she prayed for, knows her dying wish, knows who had been her last thought before she turned towards the hell she was destined for and embraced it.
She knows that as much as she likes to think that she's left that girl behind in Metropolis that she's still inside her. She can sense her hesitancy, her fear, that too quick instinct to run away now, like she did before.
But she also senses the better part of her, the part that the boy in front of her brings out; she senses the bravery, the toughness, the kind it took to drag herself across the rubble to reach him. She can sense that openness, the lack of shame, the desperation that would prompt her to kiss unresponsive lips, to breath words of comfort and unspoken promises. She can sense the hope, can sense the brokenness that she wants to heal.
She senses the better part of her inside that girl, the part that won't let him get hurt. Not again.
The dying girl in Metropolis had known what she wanted. Blindly, and perhaps stupidly, Artemis decides to trust her.
Wally fidgets against beneath her, looking nervous. "Are you going to answer, or what?" He says, sounding annoyed.
She leans forward slowly, deliberately, one finger prodding the bottom of his chin and forcing his jaw to tilt to meet hers again. "Whatever, Wallman." She tells him, not bothering to hide the affection from her voice.
The girl from Metropolis kisses him, desperate and as wanting as she had on the ground, only this time he's alert enough to respond. This time his lips are hot and mercifully alive beneath her, one crack of laughter sounding before she silences him again.
She knows it's not a real answer. But somehow, without words, the girl from Metropolis says everything Artemis isn't brave enough to say.
She glances up from her plate when Zatanna comes into the kitchen. Wally's been summoned home by his mother for a late dinner, and despite his insistence that she join him she manages to decline.
"You look weird." Zatanna tells her, eyes narrowing at her as she leans across the kitchen island, one hand plucking her fork from her fingers and stealing a few pieces of pasta off her plate, ignoring the glare she's receiving.
She manages to grab the utensil back. "Gee, thanks." She snorts, not quite managing to inject her usual snark into her voice. She blames Wally; he's left her in far too good of a mood.
For a moment the younger girl simply stares, scrutinizing her. "You know there's not a point in keeping secrets from me, right?" She reminds her, looking stern and like they've been in the middle of an intense conversation rather than eating someone else's leftovers. "My lips come in fairly regular contact with the Boy Wonder's, if I wanted to I could have the security codes to the Bat Cave in less than an hour."
Against her will her cheeks grow hot, and instead of answering she forces herself to smirk, jabbing a fork accusingly at the raven haired girl. "And speaking of secrets, how come I didn't know that was still going on?"
Zatanna waves a hand carelessly. "Please, so not a secret. It's a miracle you haven't walked in on us yet."
For some reason they both color and fall silent, and for the first time in a long time she feels awkward around the younger girl.
Zatanna fusses with the microwave and makes a big show of scooping up the rest of the stolen fettuccini she's put in the fridge and placing it on a plate. It's not until she's seated beside her and silence is nearly pounding against her ear drums that she forces herself to speak.
"Sorry about... About what I said, a couple weeks ago." She mutters, feeling stupid.
In response the other girl nods. "It's fine." She says, even though they both know it isn't.
And maybe it takes a little too much work to talk easily for the rest of the meal, and maybe they both know each other well enough at this point to recognize that there are some secrets they're never going to be okay with sharing.
Maybe that's okay. At least they're trying.
The next morning Kaldur calls them all into the debriefing room and introduces them officially to Garth and Tula; automatically she finds her eyes lingering on him, trying to read too much into the way his mouth seems to get tighter whenever he catches the visiting couple holding hands.
It's a cruel thing, whether Tula meant it or not, bringing Garth here.
It's crueler when Kaldur sees her questioning look and promply glares, spending the rest of the day avoiding her eyes.
Despite this odd behaviour she finds it nice, having a few more people around; it seems like there's been so much silence lately, first with the aftermath of New Year's Eve and then again with the of the battle in Metropolis. Quietly she thinks that maybe it's a good thing, having visitors.
Tula is more beautiful than she expected; Kaldur's never once told her what she looks like and she's oddly surprised by the soft bronze hair and the pale green eyes—but she supposes she's met enough Atlanteans by now to know that they generally are more attractive than average humans. At first she's not quite sure what her verdict on the other woman is, whether or not she approves.
At least this is the case until the Atlantean picks one of her disregarded books off the coffee table and thumbs through it quickly, too familiarly; for a half second she's annoyed until Tula disregards it carefully, spewing out a direct quote from the novel and looking around at them expectantly. Everyone is clueless except for the two of them, and when she offers to give Tula a tour of the library she doesn't miss the grin Wally sends her.
She's more wary of Garth though, something that starts purely out of respect for Kaldur and eventually morphs into something bigger, more undefined. Garth takes an interest in her archery and insists on studying her training with Canary with a rotation of different guests, all looking less thrilled than he is to be watching her stunted progress at adapting to Oliver's new bow or the rhythmic running and tumbling sessions that are forced on her to build up the strength in her leg. She finds the more time she spends with the stranger the less she likes him.
Kaldur continues to avoid her gaze, jerking out of her grasp when she touches him lightly on the shoulder. "I assure you, nothing is wrong." He tells her, all of the affection for her gone from his voice, eyes looking past her. Still, she catches herself worrying over the pained expression that crosses his features when he thinks Tula isn't looking. She asks him twice more and receives the same answer again and again with more annoyance, and silently she wonders what she did wrong.
"You're his best friend on the Team." Wally tells her through a mouthful of M'gann cookies when she confides her worries in him. "You know that. He probably just doesn't want Tula to feel threatened."
"Tula's dating Garth, Wally." She reminds him. "She doesn't have a reason to go after Kaldur, let alone feel threatened by someone else going after him. Not that I am, by the way." She adds for his benefit, because she feels like she should.
"Oh boy, haven't I got you trained well." He snorts sarcastically, breaking off a chunk of his cookie and waving it playfully in front of her mouth, pulling her out of her pensiveness long enough for her to snap it from his fingers, biting a little too hard.
Garth asks odd questions at odd times, and her dislike of him increases a ten-fold nearly a week later. They're all watching a movie together, which really means talking loudly over the actors through mouthfuls of popcorn, when Wally says something stupid that she can't remember to Robin. Predictably there's a snappy response and some popcorn gets flung across the room and they're all laughing easily, at least until Garth turns and addresses her with an innocent look on his face.
"You certainly are a patient woman. You and Wally have been together long, yes?"
Instantly the laughter in the room silences and she's left staring at Garth in horror as Wally's ears go off beside her. Across the room she can see Zatanna looking at her in alarm. "Uh, no. Not that long." Wally answers for her, apparently not trusting her to speak for the both of them. Silently she glowers at the television and vows to hate Garth forever, ignoring the stunned silence behind her.
There's about twenty seconds of absolute stillness, in which it becomes almost painful that the actors on screen are furiously locking lips.
"When the hell did that happen?" Connors finally asks for everyone, and in the eruption of snickers and chattering that comes flying at them she nearly kisses Wally when he seizes a bowl and launches a full scale popcorn attack on the room at large.
They haven't even been together two weeks and everyone knows.
"Are you still upset about that Garth thing?" Wally asks her a day later.
She catches the brooding look on her face, her features stretched into a scowl as she pulls her unfocused eyes up from where she's been glaring at the page. "What?"
Wally sends her a calculating look from where he's seated at his desk, fingers hitting his pencil against the edge of his math textbook as he looks at her, one foot reaching out to hook around the leg of his desk and spinning his chair to face her. She's been waiting for him to finish his homework before they start training, her back pressing against his head board and her knees folded up and, so she thought until a moment ago, hiding her brooding from him. "You shouldn't be upset, you know." He reminds her, still tapping. "The rest of the Team was going to find out eventually."
She shrugs, going back to scowling at her page. "I know." She says childishly. "I just… I don't know. Never mind."
Wally, still tapping, half spins back towards his homework. "It might actually be better that they find out like this. Better than having them, you know. Walk in on us."
"Uh, I guess." At once her cheeks are crimson, a ridiculous and dithering chuckle somehow coming out of her mouth as she glances around, eager for a change in subject. "Speaking of being walked in on, you won't believe what Robin caught Connor doing around Valentine's Day, I forgot to tell you—"
Suddenly Wally's tapping stops all together; she watches in slight confusion as he lolls his head back, one palm reaching out to clap himself on the forehead. "Oh, man." He groans. "Valentine's Day."
He sends her a guilty sort of look that she doesn't quite understand, her hands closing her book in alarm. "What do you mean, Valentine's Day?"
"You aren't like, you know. Mad that I didn't get you anything?"
He looks so sheepish, so beyond guilty that she can't take him seriously; his ears redden when she laughs in his face. "Wally, you spent Valentine's Day half-dead in the hospital." She says sharply, half spitting the words out of her mouth in her distaste at their truth. "I'm just happy you're alive, you idiot."
He looks so relieved she can hardly stand it; rather than watch the grin that splits across his face she gets up, walking up behind him and forcing his chair back towards his desk. "Hey, genius, you have homework to finish. Hurry up so we can start that training you've been bugging me about."
He grins despite her mean tone, and suddenly the tapping that signals his thinking is back up and running. "Yes ma'am." He says teasingly, shuffling his papers.
She's just about to go back to her spot on his bed when she sees something she's never noticed before—there it is from all those weeks ago, wrapped around the handle of the old chipped coffee mug he uses to hold his pencils.
Her hair tie, the one he had removed in the bathroom.
She doesn't know why she's surprised to see it; Wally has a magpie-like tendency to latch onto certain items. And unlike her school tie she hadn't asked for it back, she had simply given it up as another addition to her long list of lost hair elastics, like many before that had simply slipped off her wrist. But maybe that's why she's so surprised to see it; it's not like the arrow that saved his life, or the Helmet of Fate. It's not important. It's just a tiny piece of her, after all... The marker of a lost moment between missions.
"You still have this?" For some reason her voice comes out thicker than she wants, her fingers reaching out to touch the porcelain the elastic is wrapped around. The memory is still warm in the front of her mind—she had been just about to leave for the circus mission and even though they were fighting he had helped her with her hair; she remembers his fingers yanking through her tresses and she remembers the look on his face when he had seen the way her platinum locks had framed her face in the mirror; most of all she remembers the way his face changed, grown sour, when he saw her scar.
It's not really a happy memory, and she wonders why he's clinging to it.
Wally looks up at the change in her voice, brows a little furrowed at the unknown emotion that's hidden in the back of her throat before glancing pointedly at the elastic. "Oh. Yeah." He says a little confusedly, shrugging. "You know. Souvenir."
She can't explain why she's getting so sentimental over a stupid hair tie, can't explain why the fact that he kept it through their many fights and almosts even means something to her; all she knows is that suddenly there's something tight burning at the back of her throat and he's responsible for putting it there.
And maybe it's because he thought this part of her, an ugly part of her, was worth saving... He thought her worthwhile before she even thought that of herself.
Maybe she's just being an idiot.
Wally taps against his notebook again, thoughts whirring ahead of her as he swings around in his chair. "You okay, Beautiful?"
"Yeah." She says, sounding stupid when her voice catches. "I'll be right back. I want tea."
She makes it about three steps into the kitchen before she realizes she's not alone; her feet actually pause on the tile when she sees Kaldur staring out of her and Wally's window. It feels odd, standing there in deliberation for a moment, wondering if she should turn on her heel and leave. Wondering if he still cares for her presence at all.
She's saved the trouble; she hears him sigh, his shoulders slumping as if he carries the entire weight of the world on them, looking at her reflection in the glass. "Artemis." He says her name, and for the first time in nearly a week she hears the renewed affection in his voice.
Her own pathetic upshot of joy at hearing him speaking to her overwhelms her, and suddenly she's as repelled by the man standing in front of the window as he has mysteriously been with her all week. Ignoring the lingering emotion in her stomach from seeing her hair elastic in Wally's bedroom, she forces herself to rise into anger. "Oh, so now you're talking to me?" She bursts out, not going to him and instead rounding the corner towards the stove and setting the water on to boil.
For something to do other than huff angrily at him she slams a few cupboards around, blood boiling slightly when she hears him sigh again. "If you are angry I would much prefer you took it out on me. I understand that M'gann is quite partial to a fully intact kitchen."
The calm tone to his voice undoes her slightly, and stomping around the corner she almost bellows at his back across the room. "Really? A week of your crap and that's all you have to say to me? Worrying about the goddamn-" She cuts herself off abruptly, looking over his shoulder and out the window, a sudden thickness in her throat forcing her to swallow.
He doesn't look at her when she moves to stand beside him; he only drops his head to glare sullenly at the floor, fists clenching. "I would like you to keep yelling." He says seriously, voice wavering but still not disguising the fact that it's an order. "I deserve your anger."
She actually opens her mouth, half hoping to follow his instructions; maybe a year ago she would be able to, when she was so filled to the brim with hatred that she would boil over unexpectedly, but not now. Instead she makes the mistake of glancing towards the sun's reflection on the water, grimacing when it does nothing to hide the truth of the beach. Distantly, she can see two figures she recognizes along the shore.
"She brought Garth." She says quietly. Her throat is tight again.
Kaldur doesn't say anything at first, eyes still glaring at the floor. "Yes, she did."
"And she didn't tell you she was going to." It's not a question, her voice cold.
"No."
She opens her mouth to try to obey his command again, lips bobbing helplessly for a moment before she sighs, dropping her eyes from the happy couple kissing on the beach and to the floor. Hoping it says more than she can she reaches out, fingers barely brushing the tattoos that adorn his forearms and touching him as tenderly as she can hope. She doesn't trust herself to do much more, not when she's so annoyed with him.
She doesn't expect the tiny choking sound that escapes his mouth, but when she glances up in alarm at his face she can already see it's impact being erased, the small slip of emotion that passed over his features being smoothed and wiped clean as his lips purse into a straight line. "... I have been a fool." He tells her, voice steadier now than before. "I am sorry. When Garth arrived... I felt the full weight of my selfishness, of my scheming; I have never felt more ashamed of myself, for the things that I confided in you... I could not face you. I am... Please forgive me, Artemis." He begs.
She doesn't say anything but she does wrap an arm around his shoulders. As always he's slightly cool to the touch. "You don't ever have to be afraid of facing me, okay?" She says after a while, finally finding comforting words in the slew of emotions bouncing around her head. "I promise you, no matter how awful you think you are... Parts of me are worse."
The kettle boils with enough water for one, and in a moment of pure self-sacrifice she digs through the cabinet, not stopping until she finds the blue mug he prefers and forgoing whatever comfort she wants in favor of pouring it out for him. Kaldur accepts the mug of tea numbly when she shoves it into his hands, wincing when the hot water spills over the edges and hits his webbed skin. When she leaves he is still staring, lovelorn and broken, out the window.
Wally looks up at her when she comes back to his room, still looking confused at her sudden departure. "Are you done acting strange?" He asks her teasingly.
His eyes go wide when she grabs the arm rests of his chair, bending at the waist and colliding her lips somewhat awkwardly with his; it's fast, awkward, clumsy, and still leaves him slightly breathless when she pulls back, already stalking back towards the bed. "What was that for?" He chokes out, staring at her wide eyed.
"Homework, Kid." She reminds him, opening her book to a random page.
Raquel only brings up their conversation about Kaldur once.
They've just finished sparring, both of them coated in a layer of sweater, and absently Raquel tosses her a towel to wipe her face. She'd been ridiculously relieved when Canary had matched her with another, perfect healthy member of the Team; it had meant she was improving, getting stronger again.
"You never mentioned he had an ex-girlfriend coming to visit." She says conversationally, but there's something a little off about her tone—like she's annoyed, ruffled.
It takes her a half second to realize who she's talking about, breath still coming out in slight pants and mind still a little hazy from the heat of the fight; in response she shrugs, one hand fanning over her forehead to push any loose hairs back against her sweat slicked scalp. "I didn't know." She only half lies.
Raquel scrubs her face once, leaving behind a line of smudged mascara. "Whatever." She says good naturedly, already tossing the towel in the laundry hamper. "I always liked a little competition."
For some reason the ebony girl smirks at her as if they're both in on the same joke, and a part of her almost asks what she means by it; instead of responding she just shakes her head, trying to smile and privately thinking she's better off staying out of it.
Tula and Garth seem happy whenever she sees them, oblivious to the obvious discomfort they're putting Kaldur through. Still, she makes a point of dragging herself along, and sometimes Wally too, whenever she sees the three of them wandering around the Cave. Although he never says a word of thanks, one day she meets Kaldur's eyes and knows how much it means to him, not having to go this alone.
When she asks Tula she doesn't receive a definitive timeline as to how long their stay is; she gets the impression that they're on the equivalent of an Australian walkabout, simply interested in learning the surface world's way of life and studying it before returning home. Kaldur does his best to only show the most exquisite parts of surface life, such as Art Galleries and Museums, but even he can't stop M'gann from dragging the couple to the closest shopping mall. She doesn't hear the specifics but she does know the excursion is a complete disaster; apparently Happy Harbor retailers take their "No shoes, No Service" policies very seriously.
As ever, time goes on. And as ever, Red Arrow remains missing.
They have to be subtle with their searching; the League reminds them multiple times that Roy is their responsibility and that their efforts are better spent keeping up their contact with S.T.A.R labs and attempting to discover what exactly was stolen so many weeks ago. From what she knows the entire lab was absolutely trashed upon its invasion and had several stories blown apart with explosives; trying to take inventory of what's still intact is about as easy as trying to take inventory of a city dump. It's difficult, watching footage of military presence in Quarac, watching soldiers being sent off in retaliation of a terror attack and watching the man they suspect of behind it, Lex Luthor, draping a star spangled flag around his shoulders and presenting himself as a savior. The entire thing makes them all feel utterly useless.
She takes to harassing Dick almost every time she sees him, badgering him with questions about Roy and Metropolis and whether or not there's any news of either. "For the last time." He tells her, sounding a little frustrated. "I promise, Artemis, the second I know anything I'll give you a call."
"Yeah, yeah." She huffs back. "I know, it's just taking forever. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of thirteen-year-old whiz kid?"
The smile she's wearing with her teasing falters slightly when he frowns for a moment, looking at her through his sunglasses. "I'm fourteen, actually." He says after a beat. "You made the same mistake a few weeks ago too."
For some reason she simply blinks at him. "No you're not." She says before she can really think of another response, elbows slipping slightly from where she's leaning on the kitchen counter. "... Wait. Did we miss your birthday?"
Dick makes a funny movement with his head, shrugging. "December 1st." He says simply, barely glancing at her as he whips out his phone, pretending to scroll through a white based newsfeed.
"Oh." She says, not really knowing what to say. "... Happy Belated Birthday, then."
Dick shrugs again, keeping his eyes on the screen. She feels like an idiot. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Batman doesn't tell anyone when his birthday is." He says automatically, voice oddly cold.
She doesn't know why it bothers her so much; she's sat through fifteen birthdays with nobody mentioning anything, even when her mother wasn't in prison and her family was at least partially whole. It shouldn't matter, really, that she didn't mention Dick's. And yet hours later she's catching herself staring blankly into her school notebook, disregarding Biology and unable to shake the image of Dick, alone with no candles to blow out on December 1st.
Then all at once she remembers where she was and what she was doing that night; remembers the ride on the back of his motorcycle through Gotham City, remembers Dick laughing as she emptied the alcoholic contents of her stomach on the side of the road. She remembers lying beside him in bed, not promising to keep in touch should she disappear from his life and the Team altogether.
Most of all she remembers how eager he had been to come to her rescue, how excited he had sounded to be disturbed from the safety of his bed, and before she can stop herself she's wondering if anybody, even his parents, said anything more worthwhile to him that day than the drunken words she garbled at him over the phone.
The thought makes her more than a little sad.
AN: Another chapter up! I always feel a little ho-hum about transitional chapters like this. But I figure you all are already calling for my blood in terms of how often I update, and I'm better off posting another chapter and pushing through it.
To answer a general question: Yes, we will be seeing Roy and Jade again. Not that I'm about to go and give away when that exactly will be...
Again, please read and review. I'm going through a bit of a rough time with university and I can't tell you how much it makes me smile to see responses to this. Thank you to everyone who does so every chapter, you guys are the best and help keep me inspired :)