Parenthesis

by knottedblonde

"She tries to put a lot of words into the kiss, words she isn't brave enough to say out loud: She'll stand by him because she cares about him, and if there's anything he's taught her it's that when you care about people, really care about them, you don't leave. Not forever." Sequel to my other story, Artemisia. Artemis-centric; the gap between Season 1 & 2. M in later chapters.

17. Sugar In My Veins

AN: This chapter is rated M.

---

She wakes up to the sound of her own straggled breathing, the taste of dried dirt still on her tongue; there's something rattling around painfully in the back of her throat, a fluid of some sort, gritty and foul tasting when she swallows it. Almost immediately all the pain in her body sharpens, as if the lull of unconsciousness had somehow dulled it to her senses: every thing hurts.

(And almost the second she wakes she feels the Metropolis girl stirring inside her as well, can feel her picking up the broken pieces of Artemis and forcing them together again— she needs to get up, she needs to get moving, she needs to stay alive—)

She opens her eyes; she's lying down, the sterile scent of the mattress telling her that she's somehow ended up on the bunk in the back of the Bioship. Blinking a little blearily at the fluorescent lights she rolls onto her back and promptly winces with pain, eyes narrowing a little stupidly at the sole of a sneaker hanging off the edge of the top bunk.

(Focus.)

It takes her longer than she's willing to admit to remember the details of what happened, why instinct is telling her that the quiet isolation of the back cabin isn't to be trusted, and with a jolt she sits up; ignoring the way her muscles and lungs ache out at the movement she bites her tongue, trying not to make any noise—

She gets as far as attempting to stand before even her stubbornness can't contain her gasping, muscles spasming and practically giving out when she puts weight on them; it's not just her thigh and its warbled muscles anymore— when she glances down in shock at her ankle she's surprised to see it so swollen, the ballooned skin stretching tight and straining painfully against her shoe laces. Inhaling sharply and trying not to close her eyes at the sight she forces herself to move it, exhaling with relief when she can— somewhat painfully— rotate it and flex her toes.

Not broken. Okay.

Maneuvering more cautiously this time she makes to stand again, careful to keep her weight on her right leg rather than her left; a little clumsily she grips the ladder for support, turning and peering curiously to see who's lying in the top bunk.

She nearly blanches when she sees Dick lying there, looking incredibly small and broken atop the crisp whiteness of the sheets; he looks hardly worse than he did before their last encounter with Jade and the Shadows, so Garth must have done his job and protect him, after all—

She's not even finished feeling relief for his being alive before she remembers the cardinal rule of concussions, body aching as she struggles to raise herself up a step on the ladder, arm reaching out to shake his leg a little more roughly than she should. "Rob." She hisses out, careful to keep her voice quiet; she's not sure who's in the main cabin of the Bioship, has no idea if they've been brought there by the rest of the Team or rounded up there by Shadows. He remains mercilessly still, not responding when she calls his mantle for a second time. "... Dick!" She finally blurts out, voice hoarse.

At the sound of his name he jolts awake; someone has removed his shattered glasses and folded them carefully on the mattress beside him, and although it isn't the first time she's seen his bare face it still feels oddly intimate, as if she should look away when his azure eyes flutter open, looking around at her blearily.

Almost immediately he starts muttering to himself again, a string of words too low and slurred for her to properly understand, his head lolling slightly on his shoulders as he sits up. "Dick." She whispers, trying to get him to focus on her with a slight jostle to his foot. "Dick, do you know how we got here? Do you know what happened?"

There's more unintelligible muttering followed by silence, the naked cerulean eyes focusing quickly on the door to the main cabin before she hears it too: voices, too quiet to be properly recognizable, coming from the bow of the Bioship.

"... Stay here." She tells him, knowing full well that giving the order is a little pointless— Dick's back to muttering again, not up to holding his own in a fight even if he wanted to. Wincing slightly as she lowers herself back to the floor she looks around, finally spotting her bow and a single arrow—explosive tipped, it must have fallen out of her quiver before Jade took it— placed neatly beside her bunk.

It takes her longer than it should to walk the few steps towards the door; the skin around her ankle is stretched so tight and the muscles so bothered by the swelling that it's difficult to put any weight on it at all without the entirety of her leg shaking and feeling as if it's about to give way underneath her. Her fighting with Jade has left her not only in pain but on edge; she can hear her own labored breathing increasing with fright, wondering what might be on the other side of the doorway— wondering if the Shadows have somehow commandeered the ship, if they're all in danger... Flexing her wrist she watches as her bow snaps into position, her shoulders aching as she places the arrow against the notch on her forefinger.

(And as much as she hates the Metropolis girl she trusts her to keep her alive, trust the shakiness of her fingers and the wildness barely hidden behind her eyes as she swallows down the human emotion of fear—)

She bangs the door open with her elbow, breaking position for only a moment before she's back to standing stick straight, registering the alarmed noises as she blinks a little blearily into the brightness of the room. "Artemis!" She hears Roy yell out, and it takes her a second to turn that other girl off, realizing she's aiming right at his throat, fingers shaking and nearly firing. "Watch it, Sweetheart—"

Wildly her eyes scan the room, muscles shaking so badly with the effort of her standing that she's beginning to grow light headed with the pain; Roy charges forward when she turns her arrow towards the blurry figure of Garth, not recognizing him for a moment. There's a pathetic half second where he throws her aim off the Atlantean, pulling her arrow out from between her fingers and forcing her aim to the floor. "Artemis." He snarls. "Relax. It's over."

There's a strangeness in the way he says it, and for some reason her eyes fall to the bloody remnants of his shirt on his arms; they're now crusted over, hardly dripping anymore with the loss of skin and soaking droplets of blood. "What?" She hears herself say unsteadily, shoulders finally slacking and releasing the empty tension of her bow string. "I— What happened?"

For some reason Roy hesitates, seeming to notice the shakiness of her stance; gripping her tightly about the elbow he steers her a little roughly towards her usual seat. "Garth saved us all." He says as she gets settled— almost modestly the Atlantean bows his head where he's sitting, palms splayed widely and pressed so hard together that she can clearly see the webbing between his fingers. "He summoned some sort of... What did you call it again?" He asks distractedly.

"... The power of the tempest."

She feels a pang run through her when Garth looks up at her, pupils wide and still frightened; there's no trace of that cockiness that was so present before. Instead she looks back at the dull looking violet eyes and feels herself nodding at the deadened expression on his face.

(Because she's seen that look in the mirror too many times to laugh at it, not anymore...)

"It was like a tornado... Of water." Roy continues, and when he pulls her attention back to him she catches herself glancing at the various cuts and shallow stab wounds littering his bare torso. "I was down, there were just too many of them for me to fight on my own. And then I saw Cheshire on you, and before I could even try to get up everyone was screaming."

She swallows down the unpleasant taste still in her mouth, her voice breaking when she speaks.. "A-and my backpack? All the intel?"

There's a beat of tense silence in which both her and Roy glance at Garth. "... Gone." He croaks out.

"Bats isn't happy." Roy says quietly, crossing his battered arms and wincing slightly as the scabs go taught.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as Garth hangs his head and despite herself she feels a pang run through her; he saved her life, and in the silence of the room she can hear that debt pounding between them, far louder than her own screaming hatred for him and the burning pain of the scratches still on her arm. "... Never mind that now." She says seriously, shaking her head at Roy when he opens his mouth to say something else. "... You saved my life, Garth." She says clearly, trying not to sound bitter. "I'll make sure that Kaldur, and anyone else important, knows that."

She waits for him to nod before she glances back at the Bioship, noticing for the first time that Dick's muttering is silent again. "Go check on Robin." She tells Garth. "He has a concussion, he shouldn't be sleeping."

Obediently Garth gets to his feet and crosses back to the side cabin; she gets the distinct impression that he's learned his lesson, or at least learned to never again be foolish enough to wish for more excitement on a mission. Across from her Roy watches as she glares the Atlantean out of the room, settling into his usual seat at the front of the main cabin. "... So what, you two have warmed up to each other after what happened at the Doctor's house?"

Unthinkingly she winces at his teasing tone, one hand automatically flying up to her arm to tug the bottom of her sleeve more surely over the swollen marks on her bicep. "... Not exactly."

She can tell instantly that Roy's watching the movement, eyes narrowing when she quickly tries to pass it off as dusting some dried mud off herself. She cuts him off before he can say anything, shaking her head as his brows furrow. "It doesn't matter. He saved my life, Red. Jade would have... She would have, you know it as well as I do."

Roy looks for a moment as if he's going to say something more about the scratches but seems to think better of it; sighing, he rubs a dry hand over his face, scrubbing hard at the shadow of stubble erupting on his chin. "... Yeah. I know."

She watches him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "... But it doesn't change anything? Between the two of you?"

He shrugs and immediately flinches, the movement bothering the wounds on his shoulders. "... You made a good leader back there." He says vaguely, not really answering her.

She sighs and makes to throw herself dramatically against the back of her seat, hissing almost the second she moves; her weight is balanced unevenly, muscles and joints not quite sitting right in the chair like the normally do— wincing, she makes to rub at the small of her back. Her fingers catch on an edge and before she can stop herself she's letting out a tiny gasp of surprise; ignoring the pain as she shifts in her seat she reaches down under the waist band of her shorts, extracting the water logged and muddy remnants of the Doctor's diary.

"... So I was right." Roy says dryly when she shows it to him, looking pleased despite himself. "Nobody does want to go in there."

If she wasn't so sore she would have thrown it at him.

---

She expects her mother to cry when she sees her.

Or maybe, despite herself, she's simply craving that kind of softness. The ride home from Athens is filled with a bristling silence and the debriefing at the Cave is ear deafeningly loud with the sound cold glares and monotone voices describing their various failures; worse, no one perks up in the slightest when she tries to soften the blow with her procuring of Sandsmark's diary. By the time the main debriefing is finished her head is aching and she's not at all sorry that her and Robin have to depart for medical treatment and miss Kaldur's turn to be yelled at.

(And somewhere between the Bioship and the Cave her head is buzzing again, anxiety and unknown nervousness flooding through her system, choking her with hands more precise than even her sister's—)

Her head is still pounding long after she's checked into the hospital; rather than linger about the Cave she's returned to Gotham like a coward, too scared to face Wally or anyone else when she's still such a battered wreck from the last mission. She hardly has he hospital gown on properly before her mother enters the tiny hospital room without knocking.

But Paula doesn't cry, not even when she struggles with the flimsy ties on her hospital gown in an effort to cover her back, knowing full well that the wounds Jade inflicted are still raw and open, probably still bleeding ever so slightly; instead of bursting into tears her mother's face grows stony. "... Hi." She mumbles once she finishes, sounding almost embarrassed and wishing the mattress she's settled herself into would swallow her whole.

Paula doesn't say anything as she rolls into the room, stopping at the end of her bed to glare at her; she can't quite look the older woman in the eye, not knowing why she stares almost shamefully at the door of the hospital room. She doesn't see it but she can feel it, the way her mother's gaze travels from her ankle up her body, lingering on scratches and cuts and wounds she can't even see but somehow still knows are there.

"You have lip stick on your cheek." Paula says mechanically after a moment, rolling around the side of the bed until she's next to her.

She freezes when she feels a damped finger scrubbing at her cheek, flinching away from her mother's touch. "Mom—" She starts, watching in horror as her mother makes to swipe her thumb back over her tongue, the movement halting when the unfamiliar taste of old blood hits her. "... It's... Jade was there." She mumbles, watching the wrinkle she inherited popping up over Paula's nose.

Her mother stares at her for a long moment, throat bobbing as she swallows the taste of her daughter's blood out of her mouth. It's very hard to blink back tears when Paula reaches for her hand. "... Perhaps you should take some time off again."

---

She listens to her mother, and before she even registers what's really happening a week has passed since she arrived home from Athens.

She accepts the crutches the Gotham City doctors give her and uses them only once before they end up shoved unceremoniously in the corner of her bedroom, henceforth untouched after she endures a full school day of not being able to outrun the taunting whispers of her classmates. Paula reads her books at the kitchen table and they both attempt her always growing pile of homework, and every few hours she tests her strength by limping across the apartment to make a fresh pot of tea. In the evenings she lies on the couch and allows her mother to rewind the tensor bandage that's been keeping down the swelling in her foot and tries not to roll her eyes when she jokingly fluffs her pillows.

(The tiny apartment feels calm, almost relaxing, even if the wild girl inside her doesn't trust it for a minute—)

Her phone seems to be buzzing constantly, her screen lit up with the same list of names: M'gann. M'gann. Kaldur. Roy, once, and only for half a ring as if it has been an accident. Zatanna, Dick, Zatanna. Wally. Wally. Wally. Wally. Wally—

He won't leave her alone, and like a kicked dog with its tail between its legs she never answers, only checking her voicemail every few hours to hear his missed messages.

"Hey, just calling to see if you're back yet... I guess you're not...?"

"... You were supposed to be back— Uh, sorry, I guess I'll try again later. Miss you, Babe."

"You know what's a really great way to make your boyfriend feel like an ass? Getting home and not telling him. And letting him find out from Connor, of all the goddamn people. Oh, and thanks for the heads up about Rob being in the hospital. That was great. Really considerate, Blondie."

"For fuck's sake, Artemis, call me back."

"Did I do something to you? What the fuck, Artemis?"

"God, Babe, will you just call me back? You're freaking me out."

She doesn't delete any of the messages, repeating them over and over again for the sake of torturing herself with the sound of Wally's voice until she practically has them memorized, following along soundlessly with his words, pausing at the right times to draw breath or when his voice breaks with worry. After a few days her mailbox is full and he resorts to sending her cryptic text messages every few hours, sometimes calling hopefully in the evenings to see if she'll suddenly start answering him again.

It's pathetic, her avoiding him— but she doesn't know what else to do, doesn't know how else to avoid this... feeling, lurking inside her. And maybe she's always known it's been there, ignited inside her months ago but suddenly burning so much stronger. This... attachment, this... Love, the love for Wally that she had first felt searing her veins when she had watched him die in Metropolis seems to have increased a tenfold since her fight with her sister; she doesn't remember much of it, not when the memories are so bogged down with the water and mud in her lungs, but vividly she remembers who she had craved in what she thought were her final moments. She remembers remembering his face, remembers missing him. Remembers wishing she had enough breath left inside her to whisper to him that she loved him.

And it's pointless to deny it anymore.

She does love Wally.

But that feeling... It isn't safe for her. It's isn't safe for her because it isn't safe for him. She's the Metropolis girl now, she can't love, she can't stop her reckless pursuit of Sportsmaster to indulge in her own feelings... She had already tried to before, hadn't she? And look where that had gotten her— mauling Wally in her bedroom and sobbing, alone, on her floor...

(And she forces herself to believe this denial, even if it feels like a lie no matter how many times the other girl carves it into her skin or swings it like a sledge hammer against the inside of her skull— She can't love Wally, she can't be in love with him— and she repeats it until she's shaking underneath her covers, tears streaming down her face and nails breaking the skin of her cheeks...)

The final straw happens on Thursday, when she's sitting at the kitchen table and picking moodily at the freezer burnt waffles she's just pulled from the toaster. Habitually she goes still when she hears a pounding on the front door, hand pausing in her reaching for the syrup.

"It's fine." Her mother tells her, gesturing for her to sit back down as she rolls through the hallway. "Eat your dinner."

(Before she really has time to think about the movement she feels her fingers closing round her butter knife, ready to hurl it should she need to because this is it, this is what she's been waiting for—)

She can't see the doorway from where she is but she can see Paula's expression when she opens it, eyes going slightly wide before her mouth twitches into a welcoming smile. "Oh, Wally!" She grins. "What a nice surprise!"

"Hi, Mrs. Crock—"

"Please, darling, call me Paula."

"Right. Paula." She can practically hear the polite smile on Wally's face. "I was just... I haven't seen Artemis for a while. Is she home?"

"Of course—" Her mother's just about to move aside when she catches her attention, waving her still sore arms and violently shaking her head, feeling ridiculous as a feverish blush colors her cheeks. Paula seems to understand because suddenly the hands on her wheels are slowing, her gaze averting back to where Wally is no doubt looking at her, confused. "... I'm sorry, I just remembered— Artemis is still out. She won't be back until late."

It's obviously a lie and Wally seems to think so too, because there's a pause in which she's sure he's looking at her mother with narrowed eyes. "... Do you know what time she'll be back?"

Paula glances a little helplessly to where she's glaring at her waffles in the kitchen. "No, Wally, I'm sorry."

"Can I wait here for her?"

"... Wally." Her mother sighs, not knowing what to say.

Wally makes a frustrated noise, and without knowing why she imagines him running his hands through his hair. "... Okay. Sorry... Can you pass along a message for me then?" He presses her, one hand flying out to catch the door as Paula begins to close it slowly. When he speaks again he's being deliberately loud, as if knowing that she's only a few feet away from him, listening. "Can you... Can you tell her that I'm sorry if I did something to make her mad? And that I miss her and... I... Can you just tell her that?"

Even from the kitchen she can see Paula frown, looking as miserable as Wally sounds. "Of course, Wally. Goodnight."

Wally stutters out a goodnight to her mother before the door is quickly shut, her mother turning in her chair to look accusingly towards her. "What happened there? I thought you liked that boy?" She snarls at her, so loudly that she's sure Wally can hear her through the door.

---

(She glances back at Kid Flash over her shoulder, smirking and enjoying the way his ears are turning crimson. "Who are you?" He yells at her, arms waving wildly through the air for a moment, the muscles of his bare chest popping in frustration as he balls his palms into fists. The seams of her mask are cutting triangular indentations into her cheeks.

She watches a moment longer than she should, eyes memorizing the lines of his abdomen and the tension in his fingers before she looks away.)

Months later they're lying on the couch and those fingers are on the curve of her hip, the bicep she's resting her head on jumping slightly under her ear as he fiddles with the remote. Breath is rustling her hair, and his fingers are tapping a beat into her skin—

Tap. Tap, Tap.

Tap. Tap, Tap...

Tap, Tap; fingers hit against her cheeks, the hospital bed creaking beneath her. Wake up, Artemis. Tap, Tap. Metropolis is burning. Wake up.

It's not a real nightmare but she still jumps awake, back aching as she leans over her desk. She feels the cheap fabric of her Gotham Academy skirt as she shifts in her chair, feels the way one of her socks is stretched tightly over the swelling of her ankle, and for one wild moment she convinces herself that she's fallen asleep in class; fearing detention of all the damn things she jerks up in her seat, sending the pieces of paper in front of her jostling with the ridiculousness of her movement.

Blearily she realizes she's just in her bedroom; groaning lowly in the back of her throat she glances at the clock beside her, squinting in the early evening light— it's Friday night and Paula's probably just left for her evening shift at the grocery store, she should make dinner soon... Ignoring the emptiness in her stomach she exhales loudly through her nose, fiddling once at the top button of her academy button down before scratching tiredly at the irritated skin underneath her bra strap.

She's hungry but too exhausted to do anything about it; even after a week of going to bed relatively early she's still oddly tired, as if the sleep she's getting between her strange dreams isn't really all that restful. Popping another button on her blouse open she sighs, finally leaning forward on her folded arms again and pressing her forehead into the crook of her elbow.

She's just started dozing when she hears the tapping sound again; for a moment, still on the brink of sleep, she simply listens to it, mind only vaguely bothered by its presence. It's echoing slightly, like the noise a spoon would make if it happened to clink against the side of her tea cup while stirring it... Or the soles of sneakers smacking quietly atop the metal steps of her fire escape... Fingers against the window pane...

Instinct stirs inside her and she jerks up, entirely awake when she hears the sound of her window sliding open— jumping in her seat she swivels her chair towards the opposite side of her bedroom, hand fumbling for something, anything to defend herself with—

(It's Jade, it's Sportsmaster—)

She's just gotten a death grip on a pencil when she recognizes the familiar mop of ginger hair. "Wally!" She bursts out, pulse pounding frightfully in her ears "W-what are you— Oh my god."

In response Wally clambers a little clumsily over her bedside table, sneaker catching on a pile of books and sending them clattering to the floor. "What are you doing here?" She says properly this time, still blinking sleep out of her eyes.

For some reason he's breathing heavily, as if he's just run across several states to get here; his hair is wind swept and his ears are a bright crimson, the collar of his shirt rumpled. "You weren't returning my calls." He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, glaring at her.

It takes a lot of effort not to launch her pencil like a projectile at him and slam it, flustered, against her desktop. "So?"

"So?!" Wally repeats, pausing to inflate angrily at her before he bursts out into an annoyed ramble. "So I was worried sick, Artemis, I— Dick's in the hospital!" He snarls at her, waving his hands in a wildly similar way to what she's just been dreaming about. "And I— Nobody could tell me where you were, all I could do was sit there and read the mission report, read about how you— a-and Cheshire—!"

He seems to work himself into such a fit that for a moment he can't speak, simply fuming silently at her before clenching his hands into infuriated fits; deciding to take advantage of his silence she feels her eyes narrow. "So you decided to break into my apartment?"

"Yeah, decided to pull a page out of your book." He says meanly, turning away to run a hand angrily through his hair; she feels annoyed but oddly helpless, sitting injured and alone in her chair, skirt splaying unevenly over her knees from the jerkiness of her awakening. As if his words have just reminded him of the mess he's made he bends down, picking the books he's scattered up off the floor and slamming them angrily onto her night table.

When he finishes there's a half second where he turns back to her, simply staring for a moment; her chin drops angrily and she goes still, for some reason fragile under the intensity of his gaze."... I..." He starts, and she watches as his eyes rake once up her body, pausing almost unnoticeably on the open top buttons of her blouse before he blushes and adverts his glare to the floor. "Whatever. I don't know why I'm here. I just wanted to make sure you're okay, and you are, so— so I'll go."

He makes to turn his back on her but suddenly stops moving, hand predictably on the back of his neck. There's beat of huffy silence in which she doesn't know what to say, unsure if it's safe to call him back, her teeth gnawing anxiously on the inside of her cheek before he whirls round on her, yelling again. "You're just going to let me leave?" He says accusingly, hand flying out at her.

She flinches at the noise but catches herself blushing, hands clenching angrily around the arm rests of her chair. She's still too caught off guard to think of anything to say, and as if only more frustrated with her silence Wally whirls dramatically towards her bed and throws himself onto it, sending her mattress shaking under his weight.

She watches as he buries his head in his hands, fingers raking almost too hard over his forehead and scalp; for several seconds the only sound in the room is his angry huffing, frustrated breaths firing noisily out of his nose. "... How was Athens?" He asks her stiffly.

It's a stupid question to ask and rather than answer right away she spins her chair back towards her desk, glaring at her homework. For the first time the wild girl doesn't feel up to fighting with him, doesn't want to engage in their usual taunting and spatting, knowing full well that as much as it will rile her up it will also endear her... It's safer somehow to be quiet than to try to fight... "You just said you read the mission report." She tells him frankly, fiddling with the placement of her pencil on her desk until it's straight. "You know how it—"

"Tell me how Athens was." He repeats through his teeth, cutting her off before she even finishes her sentence; she gets the distinct impression that he's trying to stop himself from yelling again.

She feels her nose wrinkle. "... I don't know. It was a disaster, I guess."

Wally waits several seconds before pulling back from his hands, glaring at her. "... That's it?" He snaps, looking annoyed when she turns back to her desk again. "… Artemis, I had to find out from Connor, who heard second hand from M'gann, that you guys were even home. Apparently you don't even care enough to tell me you're back on the same continent as me, so I sure as hell think I deserve a—"

"God." She sighs, the buzzing in her head now so loud she can hardly think. "I'm sorry, okay? I just didn't have time, and school's been—"

"—since when do you care about school—"

"Shut up." She growls at him, blushing at being caught in the lie.

When she finally looks at Wally again he's shaking his head, heels of his palms pressing so hard into his eyes that she's sure he's causing himself a decent amount of pain; biting her lip, she goes back to staring at her homework. "... Look." She sighs after a moment, still not knowing what to say. "I have a lot of homework to do, okay? And I know you're mad at me so... Just get it over with."

Wally's breath stutters slightly, his head pulling back from hands to look at her properly. "... Get what over with?" He asks stupidly.

"I don't know." She shrugs, leaning forward onto her elbows again and glaring hard at the creases in her textbook. "Yell at me or..." The Metropolis girl nudges her. "B-break up with me. Or whatever it is you're planning on doing."

"... Break up with you?" Wally repeats, sound a little stunned. "You think... Break up with—"

She jumps again when he lets out a loud bark of unamused laughter, face contorting into a disbelieving and sinister looking smile before he throws himself back onto her bed, jaw snapping with bitter chuckles as his hands run savagely through his hair again. "You're an idiot, Artemis." He laughs meanly at her, not softening when she winces at the sound. "God, I mean— You are so fucking impossible, do you know that?" He demands suddenly, sitting up again.

She gets the sense that there isn't a right answer and grits her teeth.

"Before you left you told me that you needed a break." He sighs angrily. "Do you even know how shitty that was? I spent the week thinking that I'd somehow managed to screw up the only... And then, you get home and I find out that you've been in a car wreck and attacked by Shadows, and nobody can even tell me where the fuck you are or how you're doing because you've decided to shut down on all of us, again— Artemis, I thought you were lying in a hospital somewhere, I thought— I thought something had happened to you—"

"I get it." She cuts him off, hunching her shoulders angrily. "I'm a shitty person, I know that Wally. Are we done?"

For some reason Wally blushes a darker crimson, getting to his feet. "Are we done?" He repeats, yelling again. "What do you think, Artemis? That suddenly every thing is fine again? You can't just—" He snarls at her, starting to pace a bit too quickly around her room. "You can't just disappear on me and not expect me to—"

"Then leave!" She yells back, ignoring the pain in her ankle and finally standing, throwing her chair back behind her so hard that it ruffles the pages in her textbook. "Break up with me! I don't care!" She screams, lying through her teeth and gesturing angrily towards her bedroom door, ignoring the way her heart is stuttering, as if already broken, inside her chest. "If you don't like it then go, okay? I'm not going to stop you—"

Wally catches her arm, snarling at her. "You know that's not what I—"

He jerks her a little too roughly and instantly she miss-steps; she can hardly hear her own hiss of pain above the buzzing in her mind but Wally abruptly stops, reading the pained expression on her face. "Artemis?" He says her name, tone quickly changing from anger to surprise, brows furrowing when she screws up her face at the dull echoing of the snapping sensation running through her. "Hey, whoa—"

He makes to let go of her altogether but she stops him, hand reaching out to grip his shoulder tightly. "I—"

("I need you.")

Wally seems to understand even when she cuts herself off, glancing down to where she's bending her injured leg and trying to keep the weight off it; instead of saying anything he lets out an annoyed huff before bending in front of her, elbows curling behind her knees and sweeping her feet out from underneath her. "Wally—" She starts, blushing.

"It's fine." He cuts her off. "Chair or bed?" He asks shortly, not looking at her.

"... Chair."

It's only a few steps to her desk chair but the sudden closeness with Wally is almost insufferable; it's very difficult not to wind her hands around his neck and bury her face in the comfort of his warmth, impossible to remind herself that she needs to stay angry because she needs to end things with him, needs to let him go so he can be safe—

He jostles her slightly as he helps her into her seat; she's expecting him to stand up and move away when he finishes, and catching herself scowling when he crouches in front of her, eyes now fixed on where he can see her tensor bandages bulging beneath the length of her school socks. "... You going to tell me what happened?" He says suddenly, not looking at her.

She almost starts arguing with him again, biting back her own insistence that he's read the mission reports already; she hesitates as his gaze moves upwards, glancing at the gap of exposed skin between the tops of her socks and the hem of her skirt, his eyes raking the faint edges of week-old scratches and cuts with such an intensity that it sends her stomach twisting. "I—" She pauses, having to clear her throat. "Jade was coming at me and I... I don't really remember. I must have stepped on it funny."

Wally sighs, breath warm on her knees for a moment before he stands up properly again, arms crossed as he glares at her. "... You don't remember." He says flatly.

She blushes, turning her chair back towards her homework. "Well, I mean... So much was happening." She says vaguely, picking up her pencil. "Shadows were surrounding us, and we had just been in that car wreck, and..." She draws a random curled line in the margin of her page. "Jade kind of lost control for a bit, too."

She nearly bites her tongue when the look on Wally's face flicks rapidly between annoyed to worried, hand reaching out too quickly for her to see and snatching the pencil out of her grasp. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She mutters, scrunching her eyes closed and ducking her head to avoid the slightly angry look on his face. "I mean, you know how she is. She—"

Before she can even finish she can finish she feels his hand on the back of her neck, the gaping buttons combined with her leaning giving him and obvious look at the bandage that's still placed there. "What the hell is this?"

She jerks away from his touching when she feels his nails picking at the corner of the medical tape, trying to undress the wound. "Wally!" She yells angrily, not getting the chance to swivel back in surprise before he's crouching in front of her again, hands moving over her rapidly—and before she can stop herself she's remembering the heat of battle in Metropolis, remembering the chaos and how tenderly he had touched her. That feeling, those touches, they were overwhelming even then; in the tiny room they're completely over powering: fingers probing her cheek bones, touching the days old scratches and cuts on her hairline from the car accident, tracing old bruises on her arms, touching her collar bone—

(She wants so badly to get lost in him but she can't, she can't—)

"Wally." She says firmly, grabbing his hands as he makes to tilt her neck. "I'm fine. Just a sprained ankle." She says, touching him lightly with her swollen sock clad foot, wincing despite the tensor bandage keeping her muscles in place.

He hardly blinks down at where her foot touches his side. "That's not fine." He tells her fiercely, the two of their hands wrestling with each other until suddenly he's got her wrists contained inside his fingers. "Artemis, getting yourself cut open for the sake of a mission—"

"I didn't get myself cut open!" She spits out the half lie. "She was— it was just one of Jade's taunts, okay? Besides, she wasn't trying to kill me, not then at least, it doesn't matter—"

"It doesn't matter?" Wally yells in her face, looking disbelieving at her words. "Are you serious?"

For some reason his fingers go slack around her wrists, and before she can even process that she has her hands back he's up and across the room from her, looking troubled. "What?" She barks.

"How can you think it doesn't matter?" He counters, ignoring her question.

She doesn't quite understand but still bristles, feeling her hands clenched almost painfully tight around her arms rests. "Because it doesn't, okay?" She insists. "It's a mission, Wally, that's what happens— we go out there and sometimes we get hurt. It's just how it is—"

She flinches when he lets out that same mean laugh again, sneering at her. "Don't give me that." He barks, beginning his pacing again. "Don't fucking give me that. Do you even know how selfish that is?"

"Selfish?" She repeats furiously, almost dumbfounded by what he's just said. "Are you even— How is that being selfish?"

"Because it is, Artemis!" He yells, rounding on her. "Before I came to your bedroom that day I begged Kaldur to let me go instead of you. I begged him, Artemis. And when he wouldn't let me, I begged you not to leave instead."

She feels herself blushing. "That's not my fault!" She growls, quailing slightly when he rolls his eyes. "Look, there's— there's some things you don't know—"

"Well, write them down with the list of other things I don't have a fucking clue about!" He snarls, talking over her excuses. "Like how you couldn't even look me in the eye when I begged you to promise me to stay safe. To not be an idiot. Do you remember that?" For some reason she shifts uneasily in her chair, remaining silent rather than answer. "... I begged you, Artemis." He says lowly. "I just had this feeling... Do you even know how worried I was? How shitty I would have felt if something happened and I wasn't there to take care of you—"

"Take care of me?" She cuts him off angrily. "So what am I supposed to do, then? Ask your permission before I go anywhere? Follow one step behind you so I'm safe? Because if that's how you think this is going to be then—"

"That's not what I mean!" Wally bursts out, looking livid. "I just— Look. Everyone else may think you're a hero for letting the bad guys slice into you every other day or for diving in front of bullets when you don't need to. But don't expect that from me, okay?"

She feels her face crumpling into a scowl. "So, what—"

"So whatever!" He interrupts. "Just— just take a second to think of the people who are going to have to try to put you back together again when you've let the bad guys have their hand at ripping you apart, okay?"

She looks away when Wally pauses to wipe noisily at his nose, pulse pounding at the back of her neck like it always does when she's anxious. "... Look. I'm— I'm sorry." She says clumsily. "But you can't... You can't keep trying to take care of me, Wally!" She bursts out, not knowing where the words are coming from. "We both knew the risks when we signed up for this gig, we both knew that we wouldn't— that there would be some days where we'd have to come home a little beat up. And I'm trying to— there's a future here for me, and I want that, even if it means taking on a few missions that break me down. You have to accept that, Wally."

"How am I supposed to do that!" He yells at her, blinking rapidly. "You think it's easy for me to look at you and— and just be okay with you getting hurt? You think that after everything in Metropolis—"

"Don't!" She snarls at him, for some reason getting to her feet again— she's not entirely sure what she means by it but somehow it makes her feel more in control, standing and screaming at him. "Don't act like you're the only one who was hurt by that—"

"The Exercise, then!" He hurls at her, the redness in his ears seeping down into his cheeks. "I watched you die, I lived hours of my life thinking you were just gone—"

She nearly screams out her sigh, hands clenched into fists. "Let it go, Wally!" She yells, suddenly dangerously close to tears. "It wasn't real!"

As she says it he noticeably flinches; there's several seconds of silence that's so loud it makes her ears ache, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing as they glare at each other. He looks as if she's just slapped him, his face suddenly crumpling as he ducks his head to hide from her. "... It felt real." He says roughly.

(And for him it was— she can see it in the corners of his eyes when he appears in the kitchens some mornings, can trace it in his blood shot edges and the quiet way he grabs her hand, checks her pulse...)

"... I'm not... I'm not going to compete with you over which one of us is more broken, okay? I'm not playing that game with you." She says sternly before hesitating, eyes blinking rapidly and ears practically ringing in the quiet. "It's over, it doesn't matter, okay? ...You need to let it go, Wally."

He looks unsettled for a moment before his temper is back, biting angrily out of his throat. "Well what about you, and your Dad—"

"That's different." She says harshly, talking over him. "He's real, Wally. He isn't... I can't turn him off. He isn't just something I made up in my mind." For some reason she finds suddenly that she can't look at him, her still temples buzzing as she glances to her feet. "Look, you need to... You need to stop treating me like I'm the kind of girl who needs taking care of, okay? I'm fine."

She glances up when Wally scowls at her, eyes glinting at her dangerously. "You're fine." He repeats flatly.

She swallows. "Yes."

"You don't need taking care of?"

Her throat seems oddly tight and rather than say anything back she nods, eyes narrowed and fixing on her Alice in Wonderland poster several feet from his head.

She can feel Wally surveying her, eyes glaring almost mockingly from across the room. "... What about that time I bandaged your hands?"

Almost the second he says it the entirety of her body stiffens, eyes darting from the poster to his face. "What—"

"Or after The Exercise?" He fires out, mouth twisting bitterly when she flinches. "You were crying then, remember?"

She feels her throat growing tight. "... Stop it." She hisses.

"You were crying, and I couldn't sleep." He continues, looking at her fiercely. "And we took care of each other, right? Like that time I found you outside of Black Canary's office, and you were upset—"

"Wally—"

"Because you had to take time off from the Team." His voice is starting to pick up, talking over her louder and louder. "And when I was in the hospital, you came to find me, to make sure I was alright— And on the Bioship, when you were worried— even after, when I was angry at you and you kissed me to try to make me feel better—" She catches herself turning maroon, unable to look away from the ferocity of his glaring at her. "In the closet, when the League was invaded and we both thought we were going to die— don't stand there and lie, don't tell me you don't need taking care of when that's all we've done for each other almost since the day we met— don't stand there and pretend you didn't fire an arrow that saved my life before you even knew who the hell I was, don't lie to me—"

"Shut up!" She snarls at him, voice breaking when she yells. "Get out!"

Wally laughs again when she gestures wildly towards the door. "No!" He screams back bitterly. "Artemis, we take care of each other. That's what we do. So don't tell me you don't need that, don't stand there and tell me you don't need me, I need you—"

(It's the Metropolis girl's worst fear; she can sense those words, can feel them bubbling up behind his lips—)

It's about all she can take. "Shut up!" She repeats, reaching blindly behind her and seizing her text book from off her desk and hurling across the room at him.

It's a stupid thing to do; the book isn't even properly out of her hands yet before she feels air whipping across her face, signaling the rapidness of the movement and throwing her off balance. Rocking forward onto her bed leg she stumbles slightly, the hiss not even fully out of her mouth before his arms are around her, jerking her upright.

Once again she's overwhelmed by the walnut scent, by the warmth of his closeness; he got her pinned tightly to his chest, her breasts practically crushed against her own forearms, neck aching as she tries to pull back from where her nose is skimming his. "What are you—" She starts angrily, hating the fact that her toes are barely touching the floor.

She's cut off when Wally kisses her, warm lips pressing against hers so fiercely that for a moment she can hardly breathe, lungs halting and brain whirring as she's overwhelmed with the sensation of his moistened lips prying hers open, tongue tracing her without permission; as if from very far away she hears the surprised hum she lets out, feels her muscles tense and suddenly soften as he forces her to tilt her head properly, lips suckling on hers as he holds her tight to him. Traitorously she feels her clenched palms unfurling against his chest, fingers looping through the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He ducks his head to deepen the kiss, the muscles in her back aching as she instinctively arcs her back to tighten herself to him; she's still not entirely sure what's happening, what he means by it when he exhales into her mouth, teeth nipping at her lips and kissing her a little dirtier than he should, probably still angry from their fighting. All she feels is Wally's heart thrumming almost dangerously fast under her fingers, his hands clawing at her back and forgetting to be gentle with her injuries, hands ripping the elastic from her hair a little roughly—

(And the buzzing dulls and then bursts out, screaming against her skull—)

She lets out a hiss against his mouth and almost immediately he pulls back, still tight against her as he runs a hand through her hair, pinky catching slightly on a tangle. "... W-what are you doing?" She asks him, sounding breathless and angry; she's not sure if she's asking why he stopped or why he even started in the first place.

In answer Wally looks down at her lips again, brows still furrowed and looking almost annoyed. "Shut up." He tells her wisely.

"Shut up—" She repeats, nose wrinkling as she tries to take a step back and is immediately stopped by his iron grip around her.

"Artemis." He says lowly, cutting her off. "... Shut up and let me take care of you."

She starts to say something angrily and is almost immediately silenced by his lips on hers again; this time she's not as foolish, one hand furling into a fist and knocking into his shoulder in a way that she knows is painful. "Wally!" She snarls into his mouth, finally managing to pull back. "Stop it!"

"What?" He yells back, catching her when she tries to take a step back and stumbles again. "I told you—"

She manages to knock him in the stomach; for an instant she feels a sick wave of pleasure radiating through her as he flinches and immediately lets go of her before she's suddenly stumbling around on her own, ankle now incredibly bothered by all the weight she's put on it today. "God." Wally grunts at her, recovering and grabbing at her, steering her back towards her chair. "You're such a pain in my ass, you know that?"

She yelps slightly when her backside collides almost roughly with the seat of her chair, immediately growing furious when Wally gets to his knees in front of her again and spins her chair to face him. "What— Baywatch!" She snarls, flattening her skirt against her thighs and squeezing her knees together as he starts grabbing at her injured leg.

He doesn't bother to look up at her when one of her hands reaches out to slap him away. "God— Artemis, I'm looking at the swelling on your ankle!" He hisses at her, ignoring when her good leg reaches out to try to kick him and easily jerking it out of the way, sending her blushing as her legs are forced to spread slightly. "You're probably not supposed to be on your feet, I bet you need ice—"

She doesn't know why but it's the last thing she's expecting, this small act of kindness when he's got her in such a vulnerable position; feeling her good leg knock a little sheepishly against his side she straightens. "... Oh." She says dumbly, still scowling.

Wally glances up, glaring suspiciously at the sudden softness in her tone; there's a half second in which her stomach twists as he looks almost unnoticeably at how her legs are slightly spread, no doubt able to see up her skirt and see the cotton of her panties. "Y-yeah." He grunts out between crimson cheeks, and as quickly as the moment is there it's gone; suddenly his eyes are staring hard at her ankle and he's shifting in front of her, allowing her to close her legs.

It's suddenly awkward as well as angry, the silence as she sits up straighter in the chair a tenfold more unbearable than it was before. Leaning into her backrest she crosses her arms, forefinger tapping anxiously at her bicep. "... You can, you know." She blurts out, blushing. "Check my ankle, or whatever. I might need to ice it again."

Wally looks up at her, careful to keep his eyes only on her face this time; for a long moment he simply blinks at her, trying to read whatever's written in the blush on her cheeks. "If that's what you want, then fine." He says stiffly.

"Fine." She huffs back, glaring hard at the lamp on her bedside table rather than at him.

There's almost ten seconds where nothing happens, the only noise in the room her annoyed breathing; she's very aware of the fact that Wally's still looking at her, the two of them still furious at each other but out of things to say, out of ways to bother each other with just their words—

She tenses when Wally places his fingers almost tenderly on her ankle, her surprise at the movement sending her sock clad feet fidgeting in response. "Did that hurt?" He asks her gruffly, not looking up at her face.

"... No." She says honestly.

In response he nods, and she almost shivers when she feels him touching her again, fingers gently and inexpertly tracing the bones of her ankle. "... Feels pretty swollen." He says vaguely, glancing up at her once, almost too quickly, as if he's afraid of accidentally looking up her skirt again. "I'm just gonna..." She feels herself stiffen as his hand trails up her calve, and apparently Wally notices too; almost unlike himself he doesn't stop, doesn't ask permission even as his fingers brush the top of her knee, looping underneath the fabric of her sock.

She feels oddly naked as he peels the cotton down her calve, as if he's peeling back a part of her as his hands linger down the bare skin of her leg; he reaches her ankle a little clumsily, glancing up as she hisses at the movement of his undressing, watching as her arms dart out from where she's been clutching herself to clench around the end of her arm rests. They both glance down to where her tensor-clad heel is in his palm, and as if sensing her wincing in disgust Wally lets out a low whistle. "Looks pretty swollen." He says thickly.

She hears herself make an agreeable noise in the back of her throat, stomach twisting. "Do you mind if I...?" He trails off, one hand moving to the top of her other knee, a stray finger running along the edge of her sock almost questioningly. "... So I can compare, I mean."

For some reason she nods instead of saying anything, the seams of her clothing feeling oddly tight as he drops his gaze back down to her knees; almost curiously he hooks his forefinger inside the cotton, dragging it down her leg and letting his free hand trail down behind it, tracing the taught lines of her calve.

She's suddenly finding it very difficult to be angry, to remember why she had found it so necessary to end things between them, watching as her socks crumple to the floor and Wally's thumbs are stroking the hardened bones of her ankles. "... Y-yeah." He stutters after a moment, clearing his throat as he surveys her bare legs, ears still a bright crimson. "... Definitely swollen." She realizes that she's leaning forward in her seat as Wally swallows thickly, one hand straying up the front of her calve to rest just above her knee, fingers barely grazing the hem of her skirt.

It seems to take a lot of effort on Wally's part to pull his hand back; for a long moment he looks up at her, eyes clouded with wanting before suddenly he exhales, hand leaving her thigh and trailing down her leg until he's no longer touching her at all. "I can't tell what you're thinking." He says after a moment.

Almost confusedly she feels her eyes narrow, watching as he gets to his feet in front of her. "... What?" She says dumbly.

"I can't tell if you still want me." He sighs, one hand raking through his hair before it falls almost pathetically to his side. "I used to look at you, and I could just— but I can't right now." He says sadly, shaking his head.

She doesn't know what to say, feeling suddenly broken with her naked legs and heated skin, trapped in her chair as he stands over her. "... Wally." She sighs out, knees knocking together as she buries her face in her hands.

He waits several seconds for her to continue, a disappointed silence stretching between them when she does little more than hide behind her palms. "... Things have been so... Weird lately." He says after a moment, sounding older than he is. "And I know we didn't leave on the best of terms... Maybe I am being a bit clingy, or whatever." He pauses, waiting for her to emerge from behind her hands before he continues. "I'm just... I'm running out of ways to fix things."

"It's not you." She mutters, balling her fingers into fists and pressing her skirt almost painfully to her thighs. "... I'm sorry I ran away." She finally blurts out, turning like a coward back towards her scattered pile of homework. "But I wasn't lying when I said I needed space Wally. This whole thing with my Dad— it's like you said. We take care of each other. We keep each other safe and— and sometimes the best way for me to keep you safe is to keep you away from me, okay?"

Wally sighs, crossing the room in a few steps until he's right behind her. "You can't do that, Artemis." He says severely, turning her chair round to face him when she doesn't reply and bending slightly to lean over her. "You can't leave me behind—"

"Sometimes I don't have another option, Wally!" She says, exhaling when she feels her chin wobbling. "I— I don't know how to explain it." She huffs, screwing her eyes shut in frustration. "I just... I can't think straight when you're around. Sometimes I have to leave to figure things out, okay?"

She opens her eyes when she feels his palm on her cheek, turning her face until she's looking him in the eye. "Look at who you're trying to outrun, Babe." He says sternly. "Might as well give it up while you're ahead. You aren't going to be winning any races against me."

For some reason—maybe the severity of his expression or the ridiculousness of what he's saying—she snorts, ducking out from under his hand to glare at him; as if it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard Wally's mouth suddenly splits into a grin. "God." He sighs, as if actually in prayer, his eyes leaving her face and trailing over her, lingering for a moment on her unbuttoned blouse in a way that makes warmth pool in her belly. "I know I probably didn't help things, with all that yelling... And I didn't... I didn't mean a lot of it. I just hate it when you space out on me like that and... I've just missed you. A lot."

(And as he says the last part his voice drops enticingly low and gravelly, making it nearly possible for her to think straight and focus on anything other than the angles of his jaw and the chapped skin on his lower lip...)

She swallows when she feels Wally's hands on her again; she can feel all her annoyance at him waver slightly when his fingers catch about her exposed collar bone, trailing up the side of her neck to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "… I missed you too." She murmurs, surprising herself at the emotion she hears there that's barely concealed, her voice catching and breaking altogether when she feels his thumb trailing up her jaw, barely brushing against her lips.

"I know I haven't…" She starts to say, trailing off when she catches her eyes on Wally's lips again, blinking. Instinct is telling her to lie but suddenly her mouth isn't cooperating, cheeks blushing yet again. "... Of course I still want you, you idiot." She says stupidly.

"... And I still want you." He says quietly, thumb pausing in its tracings when she exhales, almost in relief. "But it's more than that. I—" For some reason his voice catches and shifts into a slight huff of a laugh, his thumb pausing in its movement. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. I just really want to kiss you again."

She doesn't know why but she blinks once, almost surprised at this sudden omission. "Oh." Is all she says for a moment, looking up at him for several seconds before she catches up to the sudden switch the conversation has taken. "Okay."

And maybe nobody will ever write poems, or novels, or cheesy romantic movies about the two of them; maybe they don't have enough eloquence to pass as anything other than two stupid teenagers fumbling around three words they aren't brave enough to say, not yet at least. But she realizes she doesn't care, doesn't mind all the fumbling and misspoken words, not if it means getting to see the soft smile that bursts into the corners of Wally's mouth. "Well, alright then." He says vaguely, allowing her hand to reach up to his collar and pull him closer.

---

It's clumsy, the way Wally leans into her; she can feel her chair sliding beneath her until she's jostling back against her desk, her homework rattling on the surface and a few stray papers falling to the floor as Wally braces his hands on her arm rests. The kiss is firm, solid, hardly more than a few seconds of the familiar chapped skin pressing against hers before he pulls back, nose brushing hers.

"... I'm sorry." He whispers, breath burning hot against her mouth. "I mean— I've been acting like—"

"Me too, Wally." She breathes back, cutting him off. She finds suddenly that she doesn't want to hear his apology, doesn't want to waste time with words; she settles more firmly against him, hand snaking around the back of his head and forcing his mouth to hers, forcing the buzzing in her mind to go quiet again—

He makes the same guttural noise in the back of his throat that he always does, this time tinged half with wanting and half with surprise; it reminds her eerily of their first kiss in his bedroom, when she had attacked him in a moment of heat and kissed him as a last resort. The memory, so hot and emotionally driven at the front of her mind seems to spur her on slightly, and before she can even spare her anger with him another thought she catches herself wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling his weight down on top of her until the back rest of her chair is tilted back, knocking loudly against the edge of her desk again.

Wally groans when she pulls him flush against her, his mouth pulling back long enough for him to let out a ragged breath at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest and managed to let out a barely there, "Oh, God," before she reclaims him, her teeth dragging him back by his lower lip until she's moaning at the feeling of his tongue in her mouth.

Her chair is really too small for the two of them, not at all accommodating for this kind of thing; there's a fair amount of elbows knocking against hand rests as Wally turns his attention to her neck, fumbling for a moment with her hair before he's pressing his lips against her jugular, making her moan almost too loudly as he bites down on the joint of her shoulder. In a half second he's returned back to her mouth, kissing her mewling right off her tongue.

She starts clawing at the back of Wally's shirt in an effort to remove it and nearly groans again when he redirects her hands, instead forcing them upwards to run through his hair. She lets out a ragged pant of frustration before her attention is redirected to the feeling of him suckling at her neck, all tongue and teeth and wet kisses; without thinking she arches her back, squirming beneath him as trying to pull him closer, knees opening where they've been pressing against his hip and spreading for him.

She hears her own breath hitch as she feels the hardness lurking beneath his jeans press against the thin cotton of her panties, the cheap fabric of her academy skirt hitching up over her hips and practically exposing her altogether; his lips pull back in the slightest when her hips begin to jerk of their own accord, an anxious mewl bubbling out of her throat as she grinds against him. She feels the warm breath of his barely audible moan against her neck, and through the haze of the warming sensation rapidly pooling in her belly she can feel the renewed vigor he kisses her neck with, can feel the anxiousness in which his fingers start tending to the buttons of her blouse, fumbling every few moments to paw at her breasts...

She's just untucked her button down from the waist of her skirt when Wally shifts again, the chair shaking slightly as he frantically pulls her mouth up to his; she's in the process of pulling back under the pretext of asking him if he wants to move to the bed when she feels his hand stray across her almost bare hip, thumb skimming the waist band of her panties, running over the seam that's cutting into her leg. There's a moment of hesitation, a moment when her lips are barely off his and he shifts his weight once more, nearly tottering the chair again—then all at once he's pushing the hem of her skirt aside, stroking her through her underwear.

She lets out this ridiculous half moan as it happens, her face only inches from Wally's as he looks down at her, face hard and a little undone in the same way she is. "Artemis—you're so—"

She kisses him rather than let him finish; she doesn't need him to say it. She can feel how wet she is, can feel the way she's dampened the thin fabric of her panties, so pent up both with anger and wanting that she can feel how slick she is for him. She exhales sharply into his mouth, shuddering at the way he traces her through her underwear, fingers barely touching her as if nervous.

"G-god." She stutters out when he takes his hand back, actually afraid he's going to stop altogether; the chair shakes when he removes himself from her, sliding down between her legs until he's on his knees in front of her.

She realizes suddenly that she's the nervous one; she feels herself blushing red when he locks eyes with her, his hands sliding up her thighs and disappearing underneath the hem of her skirt, not stopping until they've grasped the waist band of her panties. "W-Wally." She tries to say evenly, blushing deeper when he begins to peel the fabric off her, her knees knocking together stupidly at the sensation. "You don't have to." She says, voice unnaturally high pitched.

It makes her stomach drop entirely when he looks up at her earnestly, face serious but ears bright red. "I want to. I missed you." He says plainly, tugging the wet fabric away from her folds so quickly that she can't help but let out a shuddering breath. "Unless… Do you want to?"

Without saying anything she knows they're both remembering how she had reacted in the kitchen, how off guard she had been by his touching.

As if in resolution she nods at him, watching a little nervously as he drags her underwear over her knees, the slightly wet fabric barely grazing her but still forcing her thighs to twitch. And maybe it's stupid, how hard she watches him as he peels the fabric down her calves, maneuvering her underwear off her good leg; she finds she suddenly can't look anymore when he pauses, unsure what to do next, leaving the thin grey cotton of her panties wrapped ridiculously around the slightly swollen lump that is her ankle. Resolutely she tilts her head back, blinking hard at the ceiling.

It's about the most vulnerable she's ever felt in her life, the second or two that she sits there waiting for him to touch her; she feels helplessly exposed, with her legs spread, skirt hitched up about her waist and breasts practically falling out of her bra. She can tell her nervousness shows, can tell the slight tremble of her thigh and the anxious buzzing that's suddenly back in her head isn't going unnoticed; she can feel Wally glance up at her, can feel the way his eyes linger on the tightness of her fingers as they clench around her arm rests.

"Artemis." He says her name softly, and she can feel the stubble on his chin as he turns to nudge a chaste kiss against her knee, as if he's also trying to work up at bit of nerve. "Artemis, look at me."

She catches herself gritting her teeth and stops, dragging her eyes away from the ceiling to look at him, cheeks blushing. "What?" She says roughly, trying to cover the nervous waver in her voice by sounding rude.

One of Wally's brows shoots up but he doesn't comment, looking back at her glare with as kind of eyes as he can manage. "... It's okay if you're nervous." He says simply.

She feels her temper flaring up, her knees closing as she blushes crimson. "Well, it's okay if you're nervous too." She huffs, glaring childishly back up to the ceiling. "It's not like either of us have done this before."

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Wally's ears going off again. "God, Artemis—"

"What?" She snarls, pushing her skirt back down to hide herself from him.

"Why do you have to be so— Can you just..." He starts, looking furious with her again as he trails off. When he speaks again his voice sounds oddly measured, almost quiet. "... Can you just let me be nice to you?" He sighs, looking almost miserable as he looks up at her over her knees. "I feel like I'm losing you and... I..." He mutters, looking sheepish. "I need you to stop hating yourself for a second, okay? Please, Artemis."

His voice sounds so broken, almost pathetic as he begs her, and all it once it hits her—why she'd been so unprepared for him touching her in the kitchen, why she wanted so badly to get lost on the mission, why she'd almost welcomed the pain of getting hit; it's all just another escape for her, another way to get avoid the inevitability of the reappearance of her family… Wally's not wrong, he has been losing her. She's been lost in her own head again, lost in the same way she was before her father went to prison, lost in the same way she was when she would block out the world because it meant blocking out his abuse too; lost in the same way she was until Wally found her, woke her up again, pulled her back to reality—

She's been letting the Metropolis girl take over, smother her...

And maybe it had been easier when she was the one making him moan, when she was getting lost in the pleasure she could make him feel; it's another thing all together to allow herself to be vulnerable in his arms, to allow herself fall apart under his fingers or his lips. But she needs this, they both do—that much is clear at least, by the way the pulsing point between her legs seems to throb as she looks at him, seems to heat up at the feeling of his ragged breath on her knees again, the way her head is thrumming as if it needs release too…

He's not touching her like he was before; his fingers are halfheartedly stroking the tendons of her good ankle but she knows he won't try anything, not until she says yes. And maybe that's one of her favorite things about him, the way he always waits for permission, the way they push each other constantly but never really over the edge. She can still feel him breathing though; can see the way is chest is staggering the way it always does— ever since Metropolis—

"Please." He says earnestly, swallowing thickly before pausing; she can see his mind working, can see some real hesitation there before he speaks, and she can tell by the way the words warble that they're not what he wants to say, not really. "… Let me take care of you."

She feels her whole chest tighten, because she knows—she knows how close he was to saying those words she can't bear to hear but maybe secretly wants to; before she can stop herself she's nodding, almost frantically, eyes screwing shut.

It's slow at first, the way he starts touching her again; it's no longer the blind groping of before, the tenderness with which he runs his hands up her legs, gently stroking the swelling of her knees before he parts them, fingers running up the muscles of her good leg and thumbs hardly stroking her thigh. She hears her own breath hitch as he tenderly drags her forward until she's sitting on the edge of her chair, the bends of her knees fitting neatly over his shoulder. She doesn't know why but her eyes open, blinking hard as Wally exhales again and the warm air brushes against where she's still wet for him; moaning quietly she reaches for him, one hand running over his forehead and pushing his hair back.

He pauses, now fitted neatly between her legs, catching her wrist as she pulls back; she swallows thickly when he presses his lips against her pulse point, holding her still long enough to feel several nervous poundings of blood against her veins. "Sit back." He tells her softly, waiting until she's pressing her shoulders against the chair, slouching and spread for him.

Wally keeps his eyes on her as he drags his hand over her hip, pressing the pleats of her skirt further up her waist before dipping down; her lips part and she inhales sharply as his thumb swipes once over her, tracing around her folds and hardly dipping inside her before he circles back up, pressing her own wetness into her bundle of nerves so tenderly that she can't help the soft noise of surprise that bursts out of her mouth.

It's pathetic, how suddenly she can't meet the intensity of the look he's giving her, how quickly she's beginning to feel herself loose control; before she can stop herself she's screwing her eyes shut and tossing her head back, exhaling shakily half in frustration and half in want, hips bucking up to meet his finger as he traces slow circles around her clit, not quite touching where she needs him most. "Wally." She hears herself whimper when he pulls his thumb back.

(And she feels as if she's fighting another battle all together, this time inside her own head; there's a part of a her, a more frightened part of her, that's fighting against him, against the her own self... It's the Metropolis girl, tightening her grasp, refusing to let go, refusing to let down her walls and find some sort of surrender from her self-consumption—)

She tenses up when she feels his forefinger enter her— it's slow, all too slow as he slides inside her, finger curving and unexpectedly sending a twang of pleasure through her; her hips catch ridiculously and more to keep her in place than anything she feels him splay a hand on her lower abdomen, leaning forward to press his mouth against her.

She moans loudly when she feels him suckling hard against her, his finger moving in and out of her in time with the ragged breaths she's pulling through her lungs. "God." He whispers against her, pulling back to press several kisses against her thighs, watching amusedly as tiny quivers of wanting run through the muscles.

She hears him say it and doesn't really understand it, not when his hands are pulling her hips forward and his breath is so warm against the wetness between her legs; she hears herself whimper when he settles more firmly on his knees, trying to decide where he wants to go next— she's fighting so hard to stay in control, to keep herself together, her hands reaching out to fist his hair. "W-what?" She breaths, back arching when he swipes a thumb over her, circling into her wetness before tracing up to her nerves again, watching as her hips buck against the movement.

"You're just so..." He trails off unclearly, rolling her clit between his fingers and squeezing experimentally like the ever present scientist he is, glancing up when she tosses her head back with a moan. "God, Artemis." She still can't figure out what that's supposed to mean but isn't much bothered by it, at least not when he's leaning forward, lips rolling tightly against her, tongue flickering out to run in anxious laps over her.

She can tell he's just as inexperienced as she is, but like with everything he's a fast learner; almost curiously he runs his tongue in between her folds, lapping at her wetness and meeting her clouded eyes when she lets out a particularly loud gasp. It's not smooth but far better than what she can produce with her own fingers, the way his tongue licks a slow line over her skin, stopping just short of her clit in a way that makes her practically groan out in desperation before he takes it between his lips, sucking gently at first and then so hard that she suddenly can't breathe properly, stars bursting out in front of her eyes.

"Wally—" She gasps out as her fingers pull perhaps a little too sharply at his hair in an effort to make him stay put as he drags his mouth away from her clit, tongue dipping downwards and thrusting shallowly inside her before flicking upwards again, drawing uneven patterns against her.

"You taste so good, Babe." He whispers; it's about the most pornographic thing he's ever said to her but something in the way he says it, how low and gruff and almost desperate his voice sounds, makes her entire body shudder—suddenly his tongue is flattening against her, flicking once against her opening before dragging up, his lips closing around her clit just as her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably.

(She can feel two parts of herself clawing at each other, teeth snapping at her throat and trying not push her into doing something stupid; the feral girl inside her is afraid, hates losing control, and is pushing her to throw him off her, to get back inside her own head— but there's another part—)

He suckles once, twice, against her and she realizes too late that she's fighting a losing battle against herself, against Wally; she feels the entirety of her body tense up, her breath hitching into a feminine sounding gasp before his name bursts in a yelp from her lips.

Wally jerks back as she comes undone, watching a little confusedly for a second as her head rolls back and her breathing stutters; she gets the impression that he thinks he's hurt her before he realizes what's happening, his mouth going back to her and pressing gentle kisses against her dampened skin as if to soothe her through it. She's never felt more pathetic as she feels her thighs spasm against his cheeks but she's never once in her life cared less; it's hard to care about anything at all, actually, not when she feels his thumb rubbing softened circles over her hip, trying his best to help her through it.

(She's stops breathing and starts again, mind fogged but oddly clear and— and suddenly the angry humming against her temples is gone, that person with the blood crusted fingers and the snarling voice, she's...)

"Wally." She croaks out his name after what feels like too long, looking at him for what feels like the first time and staring a little dazedly at his mused ginger hair; she doesn't sound like herself, her voice much too high pitched and feminine. "T-that was…" And suddenly she can't quite talk right, or at least right enough to find the words; a little strangely she realizes there are tears bristling in the corners of her eyes, her whole body shaking as she tries once more to say something, mouth only opening and closing like a trout.

"Babe?" Wally prompts, looking a little confused as he sits up straight, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. "... Artemis?"

Instead of saying anything she swallows down the emotion in her throat, going back to staring wide eyed at the ceiling.

---

Wally leaves to clean himself up and in his absence it finally hits her what's just happened; in the silence of the bedroom she suddenly realizes the silence of her mind, notices the lack of... Whatever the Metropolis girl was. Gingerly she picks her way towards her bed, listening to the sound of the nothingness as she lowers herself to her mattress. There's no buzzing anymore...

And she wishes for not the the first time that she could pry herself open, examine the parts of her that aren't quite right, figure out why things are suddenly so different now— it's as if the heaviness in her bones has been replaced by helium, like she's suddenly opened a window inside herself and allowed fresh air to flood through her veins...

Wally cracks open her door, smiling sheepishly at her; and for the first time in her life she actually feels a cocktail of hormones flooding through her blood stream, bursting so hard at the front of her mind that it's frighteningly clear that the emptiness the Metropolis girl left suddenly isn't that empty after all.

... She realizes vaguely that she's in trouble, though maybe in the best possible way...

He smiles at her, eyes tracing the blush still coloring her cheeks and bursting in blotches along the beginning swells of her breasts; for some reason she's biting back her smile and not able to look at him, her fingers fumbling to redo buttons on her blouse. "... Hi." She says dumbly.

"Hi." He says just as stupidly back.

And maybe it's a little pathetic that she's so caught between the intoxicating effect of her own endorphins and a strange sort of shyness, her eyes glancing to the floor and fingers suddenly busy with extracting her panties from where they've been wrapped limply around her ankle. But she's suddenly not proud enough to care, not anymore. "... Do you want to...?" She asks vaguely, gesturing to the empty space beside her.

She doesn't look up but can still sense his nodding, not sure why she's holding her breath as he crosses the room; crumpling her underwear in her hand for a moment she quickly discards it as he sits beside her, careful to keep a distance between them and unsure of whether or not they're still upset at each other. "That was..." She starts, trailing off to knot her fingers together on her lap.

Unhelpfully Wally clears his throat, a little red about the ears but other wise looking quite pleased with himself. "Yeah."

She hears herself suck in a rattling breath, not quite sure if all is forgiven just yet. "... Look, not that that wasn't..." She fumbles, blushing. "Because, it was. Great, I mean. But..." She bites hard on the inside of her cheek. "You know you can't take care of me all the time, right?"

Wally make an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. "... Well," he starts, and for some reason he sounds almost sarcastic. "To be fair I think it worked out pretty well for you just now."

She can't stop the snorting laugh that bursts out of her mouth, trying to fight her smile as Wally grins a little sheepishly at her. "Shut up." She chuckles, feeling brave enough to look at him properly now. "You know what I mean, Wally. You can't... Neither of us can." She says a little more firmly. "We're going to kill each other if we keep trying to protect each other from every thing."

She doesn't pull back when he reaches for her hand, fingers lacing between hers. "I know. I..." He trails off, bringing it to his mouth to press his lips to the back of her hand. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." She hears herself whisper, stomach tightening when he rotates her wrist, kissing her tendons so delicately she may as well be glass. "... Come here." She whispers, pulling her fingers free from his to cup a palm around his cheek.

The kiss is so soft it's hardly there, her thumb trailing down his cheek ghosting over his freckles; she can taste herself there, folded into the corners of his lips and lingering on his tongue, and without thinking she sighs against him, shifting their weight until he gets the message to lie beside her.

She pulls back a little too quickly, shifting unconsciously closer to him as she feels one of his hands rolling over her hips, carefully smoothing the pleats of her skirt over her thighs. She realizes she's still shaking slightly, both from climax and from something she can't quite understand; that vulnerable feeling, the one that had so unnerved her before, is still with her now. She hates it but somehow finds comfort in it, likes that they can both feel it in the quivering of her thighs and the shakiness with which she draws her breath; a little stupidly she presses herself more firmly to him, trying to burrow under the safety of his skin and lose herself in the protection of his warmth, her head fitting neatly beneath his chin.

"You're ice cold." Wally says into her hair after a while, his hand straying under the untucked hem of her shirt. "You want the blankets?" She doesn't know what he's talking about; the whole of her skin still feels feverish, borderline boiling, and she murmurs as much into his neck. "Still." He says insistently, and she feels the corner of his cheek against the top of her head. "... You want me to warm you up again?"

She decides it's a good sign when she hears herself snort again, pulling back to indulge him in the wink he's so longing to give her. "Don't be an idiot." She tells him quietly, looking up at him through her lashes. A little traitorously the hand that's still wrapped around his neck moves to paw through his hair, his eyes clouding over at the touch.

Wally pupils tighten when she kisses him again, eyes fluttering shut when she's unable to stop herself; for the first time in a long time she feels strangely happy, unburdened. Young. "… You know what you said before?" She whispers against his mouth, leaning forward for one more kiss before she pulls back entirely, wanting to try to look him in the eye. "About feeling like you're losing me?"

For someone as fast as he is it still takes Wally a few seconds to process what she's saying, his eyes blinking away the haze she's left there. "… Yeah."

She swallows, perhaps a little visibly, but doesn't duck her head down to hide like she wants to; instead she brushes another piece of hair off his forehead, carefully letting her hand trail down and press against the lines of muscle on his neck. "You aren't, Wally." She says, trying not to blink, to let her chin quiver, to do anything that might make what she says sound like a lie. "No matter... No matter what happens between us— You'll always be my best friend, okay? And I'll always come back to you, like you do with me." She pauses, and says about the stupidest thing she can imagine:

"... I promise."

And there's a reason why she's so careful with those words, why she doesn't use them lightly; for too long these words have gotten her hopes up, for too long she's been broken, shattered by them. For her they aren't a phrase, something to say to get people to agree with her or go along with whatever plan she's brewing. They're an oath, a vow; she's not a religious person by any means but she does believe in the power of these words, at least in what they'll make her do.

Because she will always come back to him, they'll always come back to each other; a small part of her has suspected for a while that Wally West has made a claim on her, has held a part of her in his hands and made it his own in a way so tender and soft that not even her scars can maim it. And maybe it used to bother her, scare her even, the fact that he could do this so easily, but he's been so free with his own heart that it somehow unburdened hers as well.

He will always have her in that he will always be her best friend, always be the boy who—even if it took the heated blood of the battle field to make her realize it—unthawed her frozen bones and made her realize she could still fall in love, maybe, for the first time. He will always be the boy who held her hand when she was afraid in the Bialyan desert, will always be the boy who saw the lights on the Metropolis bridge and kissed her until it went dark; he will always be Wally West and she will always be Artemis Crock, and no matter where life takes them, how far apart they're torn— she'll always find her way back to wherever he might be.

So yes, she promises. She promises to always stand beside this boy— the boy who kisses warmth into her frozen finger tips, who rubs the knots out of her shoulders and braids tangles into her hair— and to always remember his friendship and his kindness. And perhaps that is naïve; but perhaps it is also improvement, a sign that her skin is stretching beneath her rough patches and outgrowing them slowly...

It doesn't matter really what it is, she supposes. Because it's still a promise. And even if "I promise" isn't the three syllables she needs to say she supposes it's better than nothing.

Wally's smile is blinding in the half light and when she feels tears burning insistently in the corners of her eyes she gives in, her head tucking quickly beneath his chin. "… Can you help me with my Biology homework?" She mumbles into the hollow of his chest, trying too hard to change the topic.

In answer Wally's arms tighten around her and she feels him grinning again, breath warm against her scalp as he kisses the baby hairs bursting around her hairline. "I thought I already did that?" He jokes.

She hears herself laugh, the sound that bubbles out of her throat much more high pitched and feminine than anything she's ever uttered before. And maybe she had been right, with what she had said before; they can't keep trying to box each other up, force each other into darkened corners until the danger is past. She can't keep putting pieces of him away and only taking him out when she feels like breathing again.

Because if she wants to love Wally— and she realizes, as he rolls on top of her to plant a wet kiss on her cheek, how very badly she wants to do just that— she's going to have to shunt aside instincts for complications and hiding and embrace a certain kind of quiet simplicity. She'll have to learn to trust him, trust in the knowing smiles he sends her and the way his finger tips can always find the notch of bone on her wrist in the darkness, and learn to believe that someone like her can be good enough to really love someone like him someday. They both needs to learn how to love whole people, not just parts, and learn to accept the running and the clinging and learn to let go of the past, even if they leave behind claw marks.

For the first time in her life she wants Wally more than she's afraid of everything else, and she wonders vaguely if that's what love is supposed to feel like.

---

AN: Another chapter up! Hopefully that will calm everyone down who was so upset in the reviews the other week... ;)

A quick Q&A...

Q: What's the posting schedule?

A: To be honest, right now I don't really have one. I'm doing my best to update every week/week and a half, and things are going to remain little hectic for most of April as I approach my university finals. Things will settle down around the 25th and I'll start posting again on a steady weekly schedule!

Q: If the posting schedule is so crazy how can I make sure I don't miss anything?

A: Simple, click the Follow button! That will send you an email alert the second the most recent chapter is live. Another good thing to do is leave reviews, or send me private messages about the chapter. I always respond to my reviews and messages about the story with an ETA or countdown till the next chapter is going to be posted and I always stick to it; a lot of my regular reviewers know up to a day before each chapter is live. And as always, the more reviews I get the faster I post— so in addition to getting more info about the hectic update schedule and having a nice chat with yours truly you're also getting the chapter you want up faster.

Remember to keep watching YJ on Netflix so we can get season 3! And please read and review too!