Disclaimer: Not my show.

Beyond the Law

Artemis awkwardly tried to navigate herself down the sidewalk while her eyes never left the note cards perched atop her textbooks. Hero-work had been heavy that week, which meant she'd been putting off studying for a Latin test-yes, Latin, because Gotham Academy just liked to show off how much of a prep school it was-and she had to take every opportunity to cram.

"Stupid dead language," she muttered upon flipping over a card and seeing that her guess had been very, very wrong. "When is this ever going to come in handy? 'Ah, yes, Ms. Crock, we see you are quite proficient in biology and chemistry, but quite frankly, how can we ever hire you as an engineer if you can't give directions in Latin?' No, of course not, because that would be stu- hey!"

A boy, maybe thirteen, had crashed into her, and from the way he was tugging at her backpack, it hadn't been an accident. He must've assumed she'd been an easy target because of the uniform, but her training kicked in fast, and she swiped his feet out from under him. With a thud, he landed on his back.

Quickly jumping to her feet, she observed her assailant. Ripped and stained clothes, disheveled hair, dirt smeared across his face. "If you're going to be any kind of thief, you're going to need to be better than that," she told him, resting her foot on his stomach, just enough to give him second thoughts about getting away. She didn't want to hurt him, not when he clearly looked the part of a street kid struggling to get by, but that also meant she had to get him to a shelter or the police. "Plus, you knocked away all my note cards. And I really need those."

Wide brown eyes stared back at her, but he remained silent.

"Look, I don't have any money on me." For emphasis, she flipped out her pockets. "And I'm not about beating up kids. So, this is what's going to happen: I'm going to help you up, and you're going to tell me why you're on the street. And then we're going to figure out what to do with you. Sound good?"

Numbly, he nodded.

Well, that was easier than expected, she thought, extending her hand. He must really-

And then she was suddenly face-planting on the ground and the teen was sprinting in the opposite direction.

Muttering curses, she hastily re-shouldered her bag and took off after him. It was obvious after less than a minute that he knew his way around the backstreets, and that made a little part of her ache because the backstreets were no place for a kid. She knew, she trained with her dad on these streets, and he'd refuse to leave her side. "The labyrinth," that's what he would call it, only there were many more monsters than a lonely Minotaur.

Obviously, this kid didn't want help because he was a veteran of the Gotham darkness, but that only made her all the more determined. The city claimed enough innocents, she wasn't letting go of someone she could save. Not that her current plan of action was going to work-she needed to outsmart him, not outrun him. She needed to meet him on his own turf.

Taking a moment to survey her surroundings, she saw the rickety metal emergency staircases on the now-decrepit apartment buildings. With a deep breath, she scaled the short distance between the wall and the lowest rung-thank you, Robin, for your random acrobat sessions-and hastily made her way to the roof. On the ground below, just barely still within in range of sight, the boy had stopped running, aware that his pursuer was no longer behind him. He began walking, and Artemis, with a quiet sigh of relief, followed from above.

A few minutes passed before she ran out of buildings, so she hastily scrambled down and continued a couple hundred feet behind him. They were getting to the Off Limits, an area of the city even worse than the Narrows. At least in the Narrows, the cops would be willing to respond to calls. The Off Limits were controlled, owned, and operated by the underground crime families, and cops dared not tread here. Artemis straightened her back and put all her senses on high alert. The boy was too under-kempt to be working for either family, but that didn't mean spies and underlings weren't around.

Reaching a junkyard, the boy easily scaled the wire fence and made his way to the far corner. She waited for him to get further away before she followed his lead, not wanting to draw attention to herself too early. Sticking behind the various mounds of discarded trash, she crouched down and waited for the right moment. Maybe this would be a recon mission only. If she pushed too hard in too short of time, she might not get anywhere.

The boy stopped in front of a car, rusted down and missing the hood, and a girl, maybe sixteen, stepped out of the front seat. "Anything today, Dylan?" she asked, voice hushed.

There are two of them? Artemis thought as Dylan shook his head sadly. "Too cold for most people just to be walking around."

"That's alright. We have enough of a stockpile for now. Plus Ben and Clara are still out, they might have had better luck."

"How have things been here?"

The girl lowered her head and sighed. "Janie's been a sobbing wreck for most of the day. Kathy's finally got her to sleep about half an hour ago, but it's only a matter of time before she has another nightmare." She crossed her arms over her chest. "We need to figure out what we're going to do about Michael. I hate to say it, but going to the cops might be the best option."

"Not a chance, Izzy. We can't risk it, not if it means we all get split up in foster care."

"Do you really think trying to conjure up some grand master plan is the best option?" Izzy's voice had risen, and she took a deep breath before continuing in a quieter tone, "We have no idea how their parents are going to react now that Janine's run away. Plus, if we don't figure something out soon, she will go home on her own."

"We could get him out by force. There are five of us."

"And if we're caught, we'll end up in juvy. Not much better than foster care, huh?"

Artemis straightened her back and stood The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but she'd need more information to get a clear enough picture. And from the sound of it, waiting around was not an ideal option. So much for recon only.

Catching sight of the archer first, Izzy stepped protectively in front of Dylan. "Who are you and what do you want?" she demanded.

"I'm...someone who wants to help," Artemis offered lamely, regretting that she hadn't even thought of something to say if confronted. Gesturing awkwardly to Dylan, she continued, "He tried to rob me, and I...I..." She trailed off, suddenly feeling so stupid.

"You almost get rob and you want to help?" Izzy retorted, eyes narrowing into slits. "Bullshit. Get out of here. We have nothing to offer you."

"Look, look, please, you have to believe me. You have no reason to, I get that, but...but I have connections."

"Cops? Thanks, but no thanks. Cops and the like, they haven't been too kind to us."

"Not cops."

"Oh, really? Then who?"

Man, what she wouldn't have given to have Wally's super-speed-his brain would be going fast enough to have thought of a believable explanation by now. Instead, she dropped her backpack on the ground and unzipped the secret pocket her mother had added upon her start as Green Arrow's protégé. "The Justice League," she offered, holding out her mask.

It was a risk, revealing her identity, and if Batman found out, she'd be in for one Hell of a lecture, but she needed these kids to trust her, and from the way they had been talking, time was not on her side.

There were a few beats of silence, and only then did Artemis realize that, depending on how long they'd been living in the Off Limits, they might not know who she was.

Luckily, Dylan said, "You're, you're the archer, right? You fought those giant plants a few years back?"

"Yeah."

He turned to Izzy, eyes wide, the faint start of a smile on his face, but his companion hadn't looked away from Artemis. "You're willing to help us?"

"Whatever you need."

Pondering that for a moment, Izzy continued slowly, "The help we need...it's not getting us out of here. We can take care of each other, and we do alright. So, so if you help us, you'll let us stay?"

The logical part of her, the hero part of her, was screaming no, but she saw the fear on Izzy's face, and she knew that this was a family now, one she couldn't allow to be broken up. And maybe it wasn't the right answer, but she nodded. "I'll give you whatever help you need. Which I'm guessing is about finding Michael?"

"You heard everything?"

"Pretty much."

"Then you know about as much as we do," Dylan muttered, kicking at the ground. "Janie couldn't give us much more."

"Because she's terrified," Izzy interjected. "She's seven. From how she described her home life, her and her older brother have been getting emotionally and psychologically abused for years. Think Cinderella, but cut out the talking animals and godmother and add more shrieking and screaming and locking in teeny, tiny dark closets. Last night, her mom took it a step farther and pinned her down, holding a match above her arm and threatening to burn her. Michael stepped in, knocked his mom off, and told Janie to run. She was wondering the streets, sobbing, until Ben found her. I honestly don't know how long she was out, but she was freezing by the time he got her back to us."

"No one else had interacted with her?"

"Gotham hospitality at its finest," Dylan grumbled, his fingers clenching into fists; Artemis wasn't sure if he knew what he was doing. "Their last name is Smith. 182 Marks Road." A little quieter, he added, "That's what she kept repeating to Ben, trying to get him to go there instead."

Processing all that she'd been told, Artemis nodded. "I'll get him tonight."

The last syllable was barely out of her mouth before Izzy had her in an bone-crushing hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she somehow managed despite the sudden tightness in her throat. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

It was spoken with more confidence than she felt, and as she returned the way she had come, she racked her brain for ideas. Cops were out of the question, not only because of Izzy's plea but because taking a case like this to court was going to be a nightmare. Juries handed down the wrong verdict when there was physical evidence; trying a case of emotional abuse would be a nightmare to put Michael and Janie through, and she couldn't guarantee they'd win. Whatever she was going to do, it was going to be criminal. And though she hated to admit it, this would not be a one-person job. Too much was at stake for her to go in alone. Still, she doubted she could ask a teammate. Although any of them would be willing-some a little too willing, she imagined-she didn't want to put the Team's standing in jeopardy. The Justice League was finally starting to see them as equals, and she could only imagine how quickly they would fall out of favor if they were caught going above the law.

There was, however, someone she could count on who would have no qualms about the legality of the situation or what the Justice League thought of her.

Zeta-ing to Star City, she hastily made her way to Roy's apartment, hoping that her sister was actually there. The archer and assassin had never made their relationship official, but Jade had a habit of dropping hints whenever she would face Artemis in battle, and it hadn't been hard to put the pieces together.

"Jade!" she called, banging as obnoxiously as she could on the door. "Jade, please, if you're here, please-!"

The door swung open, revealing an exhausted-looking Roy. "Can I help you?" he grumbled.

"What is wrong with you?"

He bristled slightly. "Lead on the real Roy was a dead end. Again." Leaning against the frame, face suddenly very serious, he pressed, "What's wrong?"

"What?

"You wouldn't come looking for your sister just for a chat. What's going on?"

"Is she here?"

He let out a mixture between a sigh and a groan, but rather than push her for more information, he replied, "No."

"Roy, please, if she is-"

"She's not. She got an assignment last week, hasn't been by since." Seeing the face Artemis made, he said, "I swear, she isn't here. Now that I answered your question, you answer mine."

She bit her lip. Roy was still technically Red Arrow, on the rare occasions he donned his outfit and took to patrol the streets, but he had been drifting farther and farther out of the hero circle since beginning his search. Not to mention, he was dating an assassin for the League of Shadows...

A run down of events spilled from her mouth, her words barely separate from one another, and the fact that Roy understood anything was no minor miracle. Without any semblance of confusion or hesitance, he said, "Come inside."

"What? Why?"

Blue eyes met silver. "Do you trust me?"

She needed no further prompting.

"Leave your backpack on the counter, you can come back for it later." They walked into the bedroom, and Roy rummaged around in a closet for a few seconds before tossing her a black shirt, black jeans, black gloves, and a tiger mask. "Your sister's," he explained, "for the missions where even Cheshire is too much of a giveaway."

All the explanation needed, she ducked into the bathroom, school uniform haphazardly discarded in her haste, and emerged to see Roy wearing a similar outfit and a dark blue demon-like mask clenched in his hand. "Alright, let's go."

They were halfway to the zeta-tube before Artemis finally spoke: "So what exactly is the plan?"

"We get Michael out, no matter what."

"Gee, how specific."

He only shrugged. "We gotta play this one by ear, get a feel of the situation. We don't know how the parents or Michael will react. So top priority is just getting him out, whatever means necessary."

And he was right, which made Artemis all the more nervous. She liked having some inkling of her situation, and going in all but blind did not sit well.

They arrived at the house, the one with the perfect coat of paint and perfect set of blinds and the perfectly manicured backyard, just like all the other houses up and down the street. If only the neighbors knew what was going on.

Roy mused quietly, "Alright, it's still decently early, might as well try the door to see if it's unlocked. Best case scenario, neither of them are here, we're in and out. Worst case, they're both here, and we need to put a little pressure on them before we can get out." He slipped on his mask, and she did the same. "Alright, let's do this."

The door was unlocked, but that was where their good luck ended. Opening it only a crack, enough to get a sense of their surroundings, they saw Mrs. Smith in the kitchen, her back to them. Artemis, muscles tensed, eyes narrowed, gave herself just enough space to squeeze in and rushed her target. One arm around the woman's throat, other hand entangled in her hair, she pulled her close and snarled in her ear, "Don't you dare scream. Is your husband home?"

The woman only stared at her fearfully, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Yes or no," she grunted, tightening her grip. "It'll be worse if you lie." A few more seconds ticked by. "You really want to test me?"

"H-he's upstairs. Th-the bedroom."

Roy, who hadn't moved from his position at the door, took this as his cue and quickly made his way inside. Mrs. Smith's made a small sound of protest, followed by the pitifully whimpered, "Please, please don't hurt him, or me. Take anything you want, but please don't hurt us."

"Where's your son?"

There was no hesitance as she replied, "The basement." A trembling had pointed to a door on her right. "The closet in the basement. Take him if you want. You can take him."

Gritting her teeth so hard she thought they would break, Artemis dug her nails into the woman's scalp. "You bitch," she snarled, but that was as much as she escalated the situation. First and foremost, she was a hero, and she wouldn't succumb to her father's mentality.

Roy came down the steps, dragging Mr. Smith behind him. The man's nose had obviously been broken, and he was panting heavily through his mouth.

"I know where Michael is," Artemis told Roy. "You keep an eye on them, and I'll get him."

"Gladly."

Artemis took the steps two at a time. The basement itself wasn't particularly large, so finding the closet took virtually no time. With shaky hands-something that didn't happen to her, not as an archer-she opened the door.

The smell hit her first, of urine and fecal matter, but she paid that no mind as her eyes landed on the small form huddled into the corner. "Michael?"

When Izzy had described him as Janie's older brother, Artemis had pictured him being around twelve or thirteen, but the boy in front of her couldn't be any older than ten. Her stomach twisted violently at the realization.

"Wh-who are you?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

"I'm a friend," she replied quietly. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

He blinked a few times, like he couldn't believe her. "But...but...how?"

"Janie told me-"

"Janie!" he practically shouted. "You found her? She's okay? Where is she?"

"She is very okay. And I want to make sure you're very okay, too." She stretched out her hand. "So come with me."

"But...they'll be mad at me. I'm not allowed to leave. I'm being punished."

Her chest ached at that, but she managed to return, "This is not how parents punish their kids. This is wrong."

"N-no it's not. What's wrong is hitting kids. They, they don't hit me, so, so they're good parents. And if I'm good, too, they wouldn't have to do this." Hugging his knees, he continued, "They do it because they love me."

And for a split second, Artemis saw herself on the floor, trying not to cry after another training session with Dad and telling herself that if she was stronger, tougher, smarter, better that he wouldn't make her train for hours on end. Because she'd rarely been struck as a child, but her father had no qualms about making his love conditional. Every mistake was her fault-even the ones that weren't-and she'd been trained better than that, hadn't she, and maybe a few laps would remind her that failure wasn't an option.

But her father was a villain, and she knew, deep down, everything he did had been done to help her survive. Michael and Janie's parents were monsters who hid behind normalcy and toyed with their children's mind, for the control or the pleasure Artemis wasn't sure, but she'd be damned if these kids suffered anymore.

"Michael, locking you down here, that is wrong." She knelt before him. "It doesn't matter that they don't hit you, this hurts too."

"But, but I'm only here when I do real bad things. Not lots."

"What happens when you do regular bad things?"

If possible, he shrunk even more. "They...they break my toys. Or make me stand in the corner for hours. Or, or they say they'll hurt me, or Janie." He sniffled. "They yell, too. And tell me I'm bad, and stupid, and...and worthless, and that I'm ungrateful. But I'm not, I, I don't mean to be, I want to be a good boy, I just-"

A sob cut off his sentence, and he started rocking back and forth.

"You are a good boy," Artemis protested, throat hurting the way it did when she wanted to cry. "You are such a good boy, and your parents should never have treated you the way they have." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "You got Janie to leave, right? When your mom was threatening her? That was very brave of you. And you did it because you knew what your mom was doing was wrong. And if she did that to you, it's just as wrong. You are nothing your parents have told you that you are. And, and you might not believe me now"-and he didn't, she knew that, and it made her feel like an utter failure-"but it's true. You care about Janie, and she cares about you, and you both need to get out of here. So come with me, and I promise, everything is going to be okay."

For the second time, she extended her hand, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when his hand settled into hers. But before she could help him up, he pressed himself tighter to the wall and whispered, "I...I've been here since last night," he mumbled, face blotchy red. "They haven't let me out, and, and I've...they wouldn't let me use the bathroom..."

"That's not your fault," she replied softly. "Don't be embarrassed. Hey, how about you go upstairs and shower first before we go? And you can grab some clothes for you and your sister afterwards. How about that?"

After a moment, he nodded. In an effort to give him some privacy, she glanced away as he stood. "Go right upstairs to the bathroom, alright? My friend and I are having a little conversation with your parents in the kitchen."

"Are they mad?" It was said in a panicked whimper.

"They aren't mad," she replied gently. "I promise you, they are not mad. So just come down when you're all cleaned up, and we'll get everything settled. Deal?"

Silence. Finally, "Deal."

She led the way up the stairs, then waited for him to ascend to the second floor before she stormed into the kitchen.

Their targets were still on the floor, side-by-side, visibly shaking. Roy towered over them, glancing away only long enough to ask, "Where's Michael?"

"Showering, then grabbing clothes for himself and Janie."

With a nod, he addressed the captives: "What happened today, never happened. Your two children have been sent to live with a nice set of relatives many states away for whatever reason of your choice. If you go to the police, you will be getting a much worse visit. At least, if you value your ability to walk. Is this all very clear to you?"

"Why are you doing this?" Mrs. Smith asked tearfully. "Why us?"

"You were willing to give up your child to complete strangers to save yourself," Artemis growled, "and I just found your son locked in a closet, where he had been for close to 24-hours. You threatened to burn your daughter last night. I have a pretty good clue of what else you have done to them. Now ask me again why we are doing this."

No response.

"That's what I thought."

Her and Roy kept up their intimidation act until Michael emerged, all but creeping into the room, a bag clenched tightly in his hand. "Ready?" Artemis asked.

He nodded, but his eyes were glued to his parents. "I'm...I'm never coming back?"

"Oh, baby," his mother cooed, and Artemis wanted nothing more than to strangle her. "You can always come back."

"He won't want to," Roy growled, taking a step between Michael and his parents. "C'mon, let's go. Your sister is worried about you."

With a hand on the young boy's shoulder, Roy gently steered him toward the backdoor, and Artemis trailed behind.

"Michael knows we love him," the father shouted as they left. "And he knows he deserves everything he gets. And he knows what happens to ungrate-"

Hand instinctively grasping for an arrow that wasn't there, Artemis did the next best thing and slammed the door.

"Alright, that went pretty well," Roy murmured, removing his mask. He looked down at Michael. "My name's Roy." A gesture to the other archer. "And she's Artemis. And we're heroes-we're the ones with the bows and arrows you see on television. And I promise, I will give you much more information on the way to your sister, but I want to get out of here, now. Sound good?"

A timid, barely perceptible nod.

"Good." He dropped to the ground. "Hop on, I'll give you a piggy-back rid. Faster that way."

The walk to the Off Limits was spent telling Michael all about their hero careers, and towards the end, he had a small, faint smile on his face. But when he finally saw his sister, it grew so large Artemis wondered how it could fit on his face.

"Michael!" Janie cried, worming her way out of Izzy's hold and sprinting to her brother. They met halfway, Michael crushing her in a hug. Never in her life would Artemis have thought that the sight of a hug would be enough to get her to cry.

The rest of the runaways surrounded the newest members, close enough to make their presence known but not enough to intrude on the moment. Only Izzy stayed apart, coming up to the heroes. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

"All in a day's work," Artemis replied. "It's what we do."

But a hero's work was never done. Because there were other kids like Michael and Janie, kids who needed just as much help but had nowhere to turn. That's why she returned every so often to check on Izzy and the others, or why she would wear her uniform a few more times a week and patrol the darkest corners of Gotham, or why she'd just-so-happen to bump into Roy, donning his Red Arrow suit on a twice-weekly basis, and make their rounds through Star City.

The law could only do so much. She'd just fill in the gaps.

Emotional abuse/psychological abuse is just as wrong and detrimental as physical or sexual abuse. No one deserves to suffer because of their parents. Words should not be weapons, and child should not live in fear. Not all wounds are visible, but that doesn't mean they aren't there.

Charities like ChildHelp rely on donations to prevent abuse, intervene when there is abuse, or help children hear. Donate whatever you can. If you can't make a donation, write to your legislators demanding better laws against child abuse and to improve foster care. And if you even think someone is being abused, intervene, and don't stop until he or she is safe.

To all the victims, you are in my thoughts and prayers always. If you need help, get it. Someone will believe you. I do. Don't give up hope.

No more concrete angels.