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IT’D BEEN EXACTLY TWO WEEKS SINCE WALLY HAD RETURNED FROM HIS BRIEF PERIOD IN THE SPEEDFORCE, and Artemis was still unsure exactly how to feel normal about it.
As she had to tell Black Canary.
“Obviously I still love him, Dinah. Just…there’s some stuff we still need to work out.” Artemis said, shifting in her chair to try and get comfortable.
While they weren’t in the Cave’s designated therapy room (couldn’t be anymore, thanks to Artemis’ own handiwork), and were instead in a somewhat sterile room in the Watchtower instead, Artemis couldn’t help but feel like the fifteen year old she’d once been under the piercing blue–eyed stare of Dinah Lance.
The woman opposite her fixed her with a look, as if she were trying to pull Artemis’ very thoughts from her head. Artemis sighed quietly at the familiar expression, knowing that an autopsy of her own feelings was probably soon to follow.
“You said in our previous session that you still felt like you and Wally had to talk about things before he sacrificed himself, yes?” Dinah asked, leaning her hand on her folded hands.
Artemis felt a familiar dropping in her stomach at the thought that maybe she’d said too much, but she bottled that feeling up for the moment.
Dinah was trying to help. God knows the other blonde had done enough work with her that Artemis could now at least sort of recognise when assistance was needed.
“Yes. Going undercover like that, as that version of Tigress was…not exactly fun,” Artemis admitted, tugging her sleeve over her hand, as if it would stop the residual mental image of all the blood on them.
No. Being Tigress hadn’t been fun. At all.
“But it’s just not the right time to bring it up, you know? Wally’s still recovering. He spent six months in the Speedforce, Canary. Even without the physical impact of trying to recover from that, he’s also having to readjust to the fact that he missed out on six entire months of life. College, time with m—his family,” she reminded Dinah, clearing her throat to try and stave away the impending break in her voice.
“It’s undoubtedly hard for him, I’m sure. If I were in that scenario, I’m sure I wouldn’t be half as stable as he seems to be. I’m sure it almost feels like being left behind.” Dinah added, in that ever–tone of hers, perfectly honed for trying to comfort distraught teens.
As much as Artemis knew Canary was just trying to help her, and help her overcome this boundary with Wally, part of her couldn’t help but prickle at the tone.
Artemis hadn’t been a teen for months now, not physically nor chronologically to put it in League terms. The fact that Canary was trying to brush what Wally was going through as something simple, something that anyone could have experienced and something that could so easily be related to and overcome in a relationship rubbed Artemis completely the wrong way.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” She said shortly, averting her eyes from Dinah as she stood up out of the seat, snatching her coat off the arm of the uncomfortable chair. “Thanks for this, Dinah, but I really should be headed back now. Wally’s getting re–registered for college this afternoon and everything and I promised to help.”
“Artemis, wait—” Dinah said, and Artemis could see her standing from out of the corner of her eye, but she refused to entertain it. The former–archer waved over her shoulder, walking out of the suddenly–claustrophobic room as quick as she could without alerting any suspicion from any passing League members.
Dinah didn’t try and follow her, respecting her want for privacy, which Artemis appreciated beyond belief, though not without guilt. Through those horrible six months, Dinah and Ollie had been almost overwhelmingly supportive. Roy—no, sorry, Will, too.
The residents of Star City had been nothing but kind to her during one of the darkest parts of her life, and now she was repaying that kindness by storming out of the room like an angry Superboy.
So not crash.
As she pulled on her coat and got ready to go through the Zeta, she felt a watchful pair of eyes from across the main hall of the Watchtower. Upon looking up, she saw the familiar dark, pointy–eared silhouette that indicated she’d almost definitely be getting a call from Nightwing later on that evening. Assuming the two Gothamites were back in the communication
Artemis sighed once more, and did a small wave towards Gotham’s very own knight before letting the Zeta beams take her back to the hidden spot in a pretty much abandoned alley in the familiarly humid city of Palo Alto.
Stepping out, she got out her phone and opened up her contacts.
She could call him. He would be there within seconds.
Maybe not even plural on that. He was so much faster now.
Faster now than both Bart and Barry.
She could call him. She should call him, even just to prove to herself that they weren’t having a problem.
Which they weren’t. They weren’t having a full–fledged problem. Just a sort of trauma and extended separation–induced rough patch. Whether she did or didn’t call him had nothing at all to do with the status of their relationship right now.
( Which was totally secure, by the way. )
Artemis slipped her phone back into pocket and started walking back to the apartment she and Wally shared.
It was only fifteen minutes from the Zeta tubes. The exercise would do her some good, now that she’d taken a couple weeks off from missions with the team.
The familiar sights blurred together as Artemis took the well–worn path back home.
Grocery store, where Artemis and Wally used to do their midnight snack runs.
Park, where they took Brucely.
Mall. Houses. Everything echoed with memories she and Wally had shared, even though he was now alive.
It was hard to get used to it. The idea that she wasn’t alone again, that the apartment had life again, in a way that wasn’t possible when it had just been her and her ever–rotating group of support friends crashing on her couch to make sure she didn’t do anything rash.
When she was only about five minutes away from home, Artemis wasn’t surprised when she felt her phone buzz with the promise of an impending headache. And a potential guilt spiral.
Pulling it out of her pocket once more, she answered the dialling tone with a short breath.
“Talking terms again, Dick?” She asked, taking a detour rather than turning off to her street.
This conversation might take a while.
“Artemis. Pleasant as ever.” Dick said, tiredness seeping into his voice in a way that shouldn’t be possible for someone who wasn’t even allowed to drink yet. “But yes, apparently. Batman called. Storming away from therapy again?”
Artemis scoffed, shaking her head as a smile twitched at the edges of her lips. “Yeah, like you’re one to talk, Rob.” She countered. “Canary was being a little too helpful.”
“Ah. I get that.”
The two were quiet for a second, as Artemis’ legs burned.
The weight of all that had happened those six months, and the preceding months before them, hung heavy in the conversation.
Artemis and Dick had taken pretty different routes in their grief of Wally.
Artemis had delved back into the life. She wasn’t sure whether it was just a meaning of stuffing her pain down beneath beating people up or whatever (as she had a tendency to do whenever she was dealing with heavy emotions), or if it was more a matter of assuring herself that she wouldn’t fall into the family business of being an evil dirtbag as a result of her grief. Dick had stepped away from the Team, too.
Dick, on the other hand, had already tried that method when it came to losing his little brother, Jason. (Of course, Artemis had mourned that wonderful kid too, but she would never try and claim to have even a fraction of what Dick was feeling). Regardless, Dick had chosen instead to take a step back from the team, as Artemis had done with Wally before in the aftermath of Tula’s death.
Though, not quite as cold turkey as Artemis had tried to do.
Dick had been there for Artemis just as much as she had been there for him. As the most frequent resident of her couch, he’d taken the loss maybe even more heavily than her, but had made sure that she was alright first and foremost no matter how much she tried to make it the other way around, while also trying to bury her head in case files and mission reports.
So the two knew each other in a way the Artemis of five years ago would have fled from like a cat in the rain. It was reassuring, to know that she was understood in such a way, and to know that she understood him reciprocally.
It was also a pain in the ass when she was trying to get something around him.
“We’re just struggling to talk. Though I’m sure he’s already talked to you about that,” Artemis said quietly, as the house, where their apartment took up the top floor, came into view once more. Her detour hadn’t lasted quite as long as she wanted it to.
“Uh, no. He’s…We’ve only talked a couple of times since he came back,” Dick replied, and Artemis could practically see him doing that familiar shifting movement that she’d grown to know so well.
Ah. Now she remembered. While they’d certainly been on better terms, things between Dick and Wally had still been just that little bit tense before he’d died, and they hadn’t had a chance to properly talk about it.
How irritatingly familiar to her own situation.
“Dick. You should call him. I’m sure he’d love to talk to you,” Artemis suggested, lips already primed to mouth along to what she knew was coming.
“You first.” Dick retorted, unknowingly mimicked by his friend.
“Fine. I’ll talk first. You’re doing as soon as it’s been appropriately long after, though.” She conceded, heart starting to race in anticipation of what was for sure going to be a hard conversation, and feeling the familiar sharp biting of her nails into her callused palms. “Bye, Dick.”
“Bye, Art. Good luck.”
Good luck indeed. Sliding her phone back into her pocket, Artemis stood halfway up their stairs with barely shaking hands. Her eyes darted over towards the mirror, and felt the familiar relief that came with seeing her own reflection.
Old habits died hard. Especially when they were habits built in deep cover to prevent yourself from going crazy, apparently.
The door to their apartment was open, beaming the flashing lights from whatever TV show Wally was watching into their porch, and Artemis couldn’t resist rolling her eyes fondly. Despite being a trained superhero, her boyfriend still was sloppy with such things in a way that only indicated how safe he’d grown up.
Seeing him sitting there on the couch brought a relief to Artemis that was unexplainable. No matter how many problems they might’ve been having, he was alive.
Alive. With her. Not off in the speedforce or some distant city or country.
What more could she ask for, really?
“Letting killers into the house, Walls?” Artemis asked, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He was warm, he was alive, he was with her.
Thank god they weren’t having problems on this front. Artemis could probably live without having picture–perfect communication with her boyfriend, but the idea of not being able to reach out and have that tactile affection that had changed physical touch as a whole for her? Unbearable.
“Hey, babe, you’re back!” Wally exclaimed, green eyes lighting up as he reached over, pulling her over to his side on the couch. As he kissed her forehead in return, Artemis let herself fall into the grounding contact that came with having his arm wrapped around her.
Even though she knew, from the way his bright eyes didn’t quite light up in the way she knew they could, from the tension she carried in his shoulders, that they would have to have that talk she promised Dick she would tackle.
“Did Cana—Dinah, sorry, drop you off?” Wally asked, in what Artemis hoped was false curiosity. They were on the right page about the current fractures in their relationship, right? It wasn’t just her projecting, again?
“Uh, no. I walked back from the Zeta. Thought the fresh air and exercise might do me some good, you know?” She said, and cringing slightly at how Wally’s face dropped minutely, like a puppy being kicked.
“Yeah, no, that’s cool. I’m glad!” Wally said, smiling at her in a way she hoped he didn’t think would convince her. He cleared his throat, nodding towards the TV in a pretty weak attempt to avoid the conversation in the same way both of them had started doing in the two weeks since his return. “You didn’t tell me this show got a new season since I left, babe. Have you watched it yet?”
No, because it reminded me too much of you and even seeing the ads for it on the TV started me crying again.
“Ah, no. I was gonna watch it with Z, maybe, but she’s pretty busy with League stuff,” Artemis lied, equally as unconvincing as Wally had been before. Her redhead boyfriend only nodded slowly, letting out a small noise of understanding, eyes scanning over her face before going back to the brightly covered TV.
Artemis’ nails dug into her palms once more as she stayed right next to Wally, her dark eyes on—but not watching—the show they’d once loved so much.
She should talk to him.
She should really talk to him.
She’d promised to talk to him, and what was she doing? Sitting and watching a brain–numbing (though addictively entertaining) TV show and ignoring the problem.
“Woah, hey, go easy on yourself, Artemis.” She heard Wally saying, and felt a hand wrap around hers, where she’d previously been
Oh, right. That whole thing.
It wasn’t super dangerous or anything, but she could understand where Wally was coming from. She knew she had enough healed–over scars on that same palm to prove his point.
“Okay, let’s just rip the band–aid off here, babe.” Wally finally said with a sigh, angling his body better to look at her, forcing Artemis to sit up out of that wonderfully comfortable position against his side. “We gotta talk. Like, a lot.”
Artemis sighed once more, squeezing Wally’s hand in a way she hoped wasn’t painful. “Yeah. We do. We’ve been avoiding it,” she said quietly, eyes finally meeting with his properly. Even after death, they were the same green eyes she’d been searching rooms for since she was fifteen. “You first, or me?”
“I’ll go first. More recent offender, after all.” Wally offered, nudging her playfully in the ribs. He was so good, it almost made her sick sometimes to think about it.
He’d been raised in the light—not that Light, no, jeez. But he’d been raised with love. He’d been raised surrounded by superheroes and caring parents alike, always able to know right from wrong and friend from foe.
As much shit as she liked to give him, as much as he could be a jerk sometimes, there was no denying the goodness that practically exuded from him.
Her? Artemis, on the other hand, had been born with a hand already shackled to a potential life of crime. Sportsmaster, Huntress, Chesire…the road more travelled by was drenched with blood, in her case.
She’d left them behind now. Wally and her had broken away from both of the previously–marked trails available to them. They’d quit, for good.
And she’d given that up just to feel the rush again.
“Okay. Go ahead.” She said to Wally, nodding only slightly.
“Okay. I just…I should apologise.” Wally started, a hand running through his bright hair. “Obviously, saving the world was the right thing to do. Major bragging points for me, but…I shouldn’t have left the Watchtower like that in the first place, is what I’m saying. Not without saying goodbye or anything. That was totally stupid of me.”
Artemis felt something in her warm at that.
“It totally was stupid. But I’m not gonna get mad at you for trying to save the world, or whatever. I know you were doing what was the right thing, and while we were trying to leave the life, I’ll never fault you for something like that,” Artemis responded, after pausing a second to think about exactly she needed to tell him. “But yeah. Seeing you leave like that? Healing from Barry how you felt, rather than you saying goodbye? Total jerk move, babe.”
Wally laughed now. The laugh that she’d been chasing for months now, the laugh that had echoed in her ears for weeks before finally fading away to a point she feared she would forget it.
As serious as they were being, he could still laugh. Normally, before, Artemis would probably get annoyed at the fact that he was just laughing while she was talking about her emotions, but she couldn’t help but just feel pure joy at the fact that she got to hear that wonderful sound again.
“Okay. You wanna have a shot now, Artemis?” Wally prompted, though in his voice there was the clear invitation for her to decline, and for them to keep watching their shitty TV show.
Just like she’d felt with Dinah, and with Dick earlier, Artemis could help but feel that now–familiar elation that came with being known.
Wally knew her. He knew she might not want to share right now, and he knew that she’d come around eventually, regardless.
Part of her, that preteen Gothamite version of her still snarling and snapping her teeth at any sort of vulnerability, wanted to take the offer. Just to test him, as she’d been tested so many times.
But that was Artemis Crock before she’d had a family. Back when beyond the streets of Gotham seemed to be the end of the world, and when she could only fathom relatives with meaning some form of pain.
Artemis had great empathy for that young girl and all she’d been through, but that wasn’t her. The Artemis now, the Artemis she really was, had a boyfriend who had come back from the dead, and an adorable dog whom she loved very much. She had a family of heroes, whose number of members seemed to grow every day.
Such a far cry from where she’d grown from.
And she wasn’t going to go back, under any circumstance.
“We can talk about it. I want to talk about it, with you,” Artemis corrected quickly, dark eyes meeting Wally’s properly again.
“Okay.”
“I’m…it’s still that undercover mission hanging over us, isn’t it?” She asked, eyes creasing slightly at the memory. All that she’d done in the name of keeping her cover. All the people she’d hurt just to make sure the Light wouldn’t see through her and Kaldur.
“Yeah,” Wally confirmed softly, nodding his head while those wonderfully lively green eyes turned sad. “I think…it was a lot for me, babe. And obviously a lot for you, I know. But I think we really could’ve done from talking about it before I was all Speedforced away, huh?”
“I think I’m just worried that if I tell you what they made me do, you won't be able to look at me the same,” Artemis admitted quietly, eyes darting back down away from Wally. “I know it’s ridiculous.” She was ridiculously comforted by his stubbornly–confirming nod as she said this. “But I hurt the Team. I blew up Mount Justice. I could barely even remember who I was, I just felt like her. Like I was the Tigress that trafficked those kids and hurt our teammates.”
“You thought you were like them, right?” Wally suggested, voice actually quiet in a way she might’ve once thought impossible.
“Yeah. It’s dumb, I know. I know I’ve done so much hero work in the odd five years since I first joined the team, but I’m always worried I’ll just end up back there.”
It felt like she’d taken Dinah’s place now, and had done her own autopsy on her feelings.
It was freeing, sure. But still, the familiar worry that was always, always there (no matter how far she’d left her past behind her now) came up in her throat again at the mere thought that Wally might decide to just leave, like people had done her entire life before she’d met her now—family, but then–Team.
Wally was quiet for a moment, his thumb running over the back of her hand.
“I can’t really blame you for it when I ended up doing the same thing, can I?” He asked softly. “And when I ended up leaving permanently, to everyone’s knowledge.”
“Well, it was sort of different. My case was less time–specific. I could’ve turned it down. We could’ve been completely out of the life, and you would never have died, Wally.” Artemis heard her voice break in those past few words, and felt those familiar arms wrapping around her once again.
“I know, I know, babe. But you can’t blame yourself for that, okay? For all we know, they might’ve called us in anyways and the same thing would’ve happened. There’s no point beating yourself up about it, Artemis, especially since I ended up coming back to you anyways.” Her boyfriend reassured her, words pressed against her temple.
They sat like that, taking in the fact that they were together in a way that hadn’t been possible in almost nine months. Artemis listened to Wally’s heartbeat like it was her only salvation, those just–fast beats keeping her on the Earth like an anchor.
“I still get choked up when I see all the places we always go, even though you’re back now.” Artemis admitted softly, breaking the silence. “And seeing you move now. You’re faster.”
“I still freak out a little when I see the dates.” Wally echoed her admission with his own, thumb caressing her hand once more. “Or when I see you dressed in that Tigress getup, still. I get that nervous feeling, like you’re going back undercover again.”
Artemis hummed slightly at his admission, as it truly raised the question—was she going to quit the whole hero life now that Wally was back, just as they’d been planning? Or would she continue it until a suitable leader instead stepped up, or would she really just keep going?
Wally, ever–noticing Wally (a title she’d only been able to give him within the, admittedly, more recent years), saw her contemplation, and immediately squeezed her hand again.
“Hey. We’ve got a rocky sorta road ahead of us in terms of trying to get back to normal, but we’ll get there. Whether that means you go back into the hero deal, or we both go back, or we quit for good, I’m right there with you, babe.” He said, green eyes boring into hers, filled with a mix of concern and clear hope for them. “We’re gonna recover, I promise.”
“I know we will,” Artemis said, a smile finally creeping its way back onto her face, and she closed that infernal distance between their lips to press a kiss against her boyfriend’s lips. “It’ll take time. But we’ve got this.”
“Exactly. Can’t keep us down, babe.” Wally said, his own mouth ticking into a cheesy smile, one that Artemis knew like the back of her hand.
“Exactly. And I know exactly what you should do first.”