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They should talk about it.
They don’t.
Artemis goes about perfecting her already impressive aim, Kaldur sits by the ocean and lets the waves kiss his feet. Conner is rarely anywhere but his room, Dick doesn’t bother trying to keep up his façade of resident pain in the ass. Not even Wally smiles without the pressure of someone watching his every move. M’Gann is nowhere to be seen.
They should sit down together.
They find excuses each time; homework, family, feeding the super-drugged wolf.
No one questions it, for their own protection and sanity.
As the week drags on, digging its heels into the ground for the sole purpose of driving them insane, they start sticking to the cave more and more. No one mentions it.
No one mentions anything.
Dick finds himself lying on the couch, staring at nothing in particular. He should be fixing his grappling hook that misfired last week, but his bones are made of lead and his head is screwed on all wrong.
Wally walks in next, though his thoughts, however similar to Dick’s own, manifest in jittery hands and bitten lips. He doesn’t say much—anything, really—and just sits on the small space Dick has left on the couch. The request for Dick to move doesn’t leave his lips.
Conner then happens to stumble upon them. He’d been hoping for some alone time, and almost walks out, but the serious loos on his friends’ faces tell him that silence and peace will be found here.
Artemis makes the most noise when she finds them huddled around the couch. Her lips don’t move, her tongue forms no words, but she goes about the kitchen as if looking for something. Maybe she’s looking for the part of her that remains dead, but she’ll never know.
Kaldur, calm and collected as ever, sits gingerly by Wally’s feet. There is something about the line of his shoulders though, the tendons in his arm flexing and contract strangely, that tells Wally he’s just as troubled as the rest of them.
M’Gann clearly doesn’t expect them to all be in one place. When her eyes, beautiful amber that they are, land on them, she tries to make a run—float?—for it.
“M’Gann,” Kaldur whispers, voice made of the finest glass. “Do you wish to sit with us?”
She wants to scream yes, but her body simply freezes. Every time she looks at them, at their faces that have become such a coveted part of her heart, she imagines their pain. Their death, shock, hurt. It rolls off them in waves, digging like knives into her mind.
“M’Gann.” Conner speaks up this time. “Please?”
“I can’t.” Her words are true. Her team—her friends don’t seem to believe much of what she says.
“We want you here.”
Her eyes burn madly, and she wonders how much of her own strife they can see without her powers. How can they stand to even look at her when she’s the cause of their pain?
Despite it all, M’Gann finds herself being tugged towards them; she imagines it’s the unspoken bond that makes them such easy teammates.
Kaldur doesn’t say anything, but his eyes, steely and strong when he is required to lead them, are soft. They remind her of snow that she’s so rarely seen, and snow—
Her eyes dart to Artemis almost desperately, focused on the rise and fall of her chest.
“We should talk about it.”
They know Dick is right. No one opens their mouth to respond.
M’Gann knows her mind is radiating a variety of emotions and unspoken words, strong in their presence, so she tries her hardest to reign it in. Part of her is demanding that she feel the presence of each of her teammates, but the more intelligent, refined part withholds. It isn’t standard here.
She feels a pulse of darkened fear, and she curses herself when Artemis flinches.
“I’m so sorry, Artemis—”
“That’s… not a horrible idea.”
M’Gann’s brain, for all its strength, stops functioning for a second. “Huh?”
“Clearly we’re not getting anywhere by speaking.” Something akin to sheepishness lies like a blanket over them all. “So… what if we don’t talk? Y’know, let M’Gann do the talking.”
“You want me to go into your minds? No, absolutely not. I can’t.”
She can’t. These people are responsible for her heart, and there is no way in hell that she’ll risk hurting them again.
“M’Gann, you didn’t hurt us.”
Oh god, she’s losing control over her thoughts. M’Gann takes deep breaths as her eyes go unfocused.
Artemis moves. M’Gann can’t bring herself to focus on the motions, but then the blonde is right next to her and bringing her close. M’Gann, she whispers, we’re okay. We’re alive.
M’Gann breaks down then. She feels herself shatter, and any attempt to keep her emotions and thoughts in a relatively ordered fashion is lost. The rest of them are feeling her anguish, guilt, sadness, but she’s feeling theirs too. Only Artemis is the one to have hands on her, even though she feels the rest of them as well.
Dick’s not shutting himself off as M’Gann thought he would. His eyes are anywhere but on them, but his mind stays open and she’s grateful for it.
The presence of five other minds calms her down faster than any form of physical affection could. “I’m sorry,” she whispers weakly.
Kaldur’s serenity washes over her like a wave. She supposes that’s appropriate. “There is nothing for you to apologize for.”
She believes him.
And so, they… communicate. Talking doesn’t really do it justice, because the silence of the room is still the loudest thing there, but M’Gann focuses on creating a link. Something stronger than even that, one that doesn’t require words or pictures.
It floods through her like a wave of lava.
Artemis’ inexplicable hollowness, Dick’s unexpected antipathy towards death, Kaldur’s deep-rooted protectiveness, Conner’s misplaced fury, Wally’s jarring disconnection, M’Gann’s own staggering culpability. It’s in each of them, now, and the gasps of pain are anticipated; it’s not easy, processing the emotions of others, let alone ones as festering and profound as these.
She sees glimpses of them, their very souls, and they’re stunning. They’re like gemstones, but she stores that away for later.
They go through different moments of their special hell, together. Different perspectives, parts of it playing with new emotions that hadn’t been there the first time. The image of Artemis nocking an arrow starts up—
And they all ‘run’. They’re back in the living room.
“We’re fucked up.”
“I do know one thing.” Kaldur reassures. “There is no other group of people I would rather lay my life down beside.”
He doesn’t mean for it to slip out, but Kaldur’s mind supplies them with the rest of the sentence. Few else I would lay my life down for.
None of them sleep well that night.
No one questions it when M’Gann forgoes shutting down the almost-link. Their thoughts, put into words, can’t be heard, but there’s a thrumming from each of them, sitting happily in the back of their minds.
M’Gann distracts herself as she makes her way to cheer practice by putting names to their sounds. Dick reminds her of the air she feels rushing around her in flight; Wally is almost like static, buzzing and alight with enthusiasm; Artemis could be compared to the barely-there thrum of a taught bowstring being released; Kaldur is the ocean, oh-so close to sounding like Wally, but tranquil in a way their speedster rarely is. And Conner—
She sees him waiting for her on the bleachers, head buried in his work, and she can’t think of what she hears when she feels his warmth run through her. They don’t say anything, but the smile tugging on his lips makes her chest feel all the lighter. She’s so over the moon, in fact, that her thoughts lead her to landing on her face.
“Megan!”
Concern. It beats strong in her mind, from more than just Conner. She grins into the grass for just a moment, before wincing at the scrape on her nose. She sends something back, what she hopes is reassurance.
M’Gann smiles innocently at Conner, who seems more than ready to leap down and pluck her away form her own demise. His eyes roll fondly, and she hopes that he feels as happy as she does about this.
Practice ends with M’Gann slipping up just one more time. Conner grimaces; one look at M’Gann, though, happy and in her element, makes his chest tighten. Pride.
Walk with me to the Cave?
You know we can’t walk to the Cave, Conner.
Conner rolls his eyes. Fondness. Walk with me to the Zeta, then?
I thought that was a given. Let me just get changed, okay?
I’ll be here.
He isn’t waiting very long, and M’Gann is wrapping her arms around him. Affection burns both of their hearts. Let’s go, M’Gann says.
They walk together, hand in hand, towards their closest Zeta. “What do you think about it?”
Conner shrugs a little awkwardly. “It’s not as invasive as I thought it’d be. It’s… calming? I guess? After that whole mess—”
“It’s nice to know they’re there?”
He nods seriously, though the shape of his shoulders relaxes. “You know we don’t blame you, right?”
M’Gann focuses on the thrum-static-whoosh, and nods.
Some rogue decides to test them before exams.
They’re not impressed.
“Come on, man, I have an essay to get ready for!” Wally easily checks the monster away from civilians and onto a group of empty cars. Well, small mercies.
It’s official, Artemis grouches, we deserve an award for being crime-fighting high school students.
Yo, Art, you whelmed about the science—
Kaldur sighs to himself, cutting down one of the summoned creatures with ease. Annoyance. Can we please focus?
Sorry, boss man. Dick leaps from the building, easily landing a few explosives on the rogue. He feels overwhelming fear-weariness, and he’s maneuvering out of the way before a creature can so much as scratch him. Thank… you?
Dick will have to ask about that later.
When it comes down to actually fighting the monster-man-thing, they move as if they shared a brain. Dick flips backwards just in time to see a foam arrow whiz by his head, and Conner lands in the perfect punch as Dick lands, graceful as ever.
“I didn’t think we could get better at fighting together,” Artemis muses. “I was wrong.”
“Did someone record that? Please, someone, tell me there’s evidence of her saying that.”
Artemis’ elbow jabbing into Wally’s side hurts like the Dickens, but the lightness of affection runs through all of them.
They let the police handle getting the rogue into custody.
Making their way back to the Cave, the Team talks both out loud and within their heads. It’s… almost surreal, understanding what someone is saying without the words tumbling from their lips. Every jab from Artemis has a strong undercurrent of love, every joke from Dick is littered with hope to make someone laugh, Wally’s crude comments devoid of anything but the desire to talk to people he cares about.
Everyone but M’Gann and Kaldur are set up near the couch to get in one more night of studying. The Atlantean helps her gather enough snacks for an elephant and their other three friends.
“M’Gann, if I may say something?”
M’Gann wants to laugh, just a touch, because if anything has been established over the past week, it’s that she welcomes any way they talk to her. “Of course, Kaldur, you don’t have to ask.”
“Kal! I’m gonna pass out if food doesn’t get here!”
Kaldur and M’Gann smile at each other as they walk to the couch, food in hand. He can just tell her later, she supposes.
Bruce, to no one’s shock, gets suspicious.
“Have you all been putting in the necessary hours of training?”
Well, they can’t lie. “Um.” Wally manages to squeeze out. “No?”
“Had more sessions with Black Canary?”
“Nothing more than what is already scheduled for us, sir,” Kaldur informs.
The eyes of the cowl narrow before turning to Dick. “Then what has you all working so much more efficiently?”
Do I tell him? Dick asks.
Whatever doesn’t get us killed, please! Wally hisses.
“If you would have your conversations on the outside.”
Dick smiles innocently at his mentor. “I guess we’ve just gotten better at working as a team. You know, on-the-job experience and all that.”
Artemis think-hums. Bold move, lying to the bat.
What can I say, I like living on the edge.
Bruce lets out a sound, something contemplative, before turning back towards the Zeta Tube. “Regardless of what you’re doing, it’s working. Keep it up.” Then he’s gone.
M’Gann’s eyes widen. “Did… he just compliment us?”
“Treasure that memory, M’Gann,” Dick lilts, “it’s never gonna happen again.”
Treasured memories. M’Gann never truly held things close to her heart back on Mars; not that she didn’t care, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth. She just learned to take everything thrown her way with a grain of salt. Being a White was only cause for torment, after all.
But as she stares on at her friends, she knows she has to start. Make note of the way Dick’s eyebrows furrow after he’s been staring at a screen for too long, the way Wally tenses when he thinks his teammates might be in over their heads, the way Kaldur’s eyes always seem to be watching over them.
She needs to treasure those things, treasure them, because she might just lose them before she can so much as lift a hand to stop it.
“M’Gann…”
“Oh, shoot, I did it again, didn’t I?” She hangs her head in shame as she reigns in her thoughts. “I’m sorry. That tends to happen when…”
Dick cocks an eyebrow at her. “When?”
“When I trust the people around me. Let my guard down.”
M’Gann hopes they don’t see it as some sort of guilt trip. It was just a fact.
“Hey, M’Gann,” Artemis calls softly, maybe in an attempt to distract the Martian, “doesn’t your telepathy have a range?”
“It does, yeah.”
“So… wanna explain why I feel other emotions that, you know, aren’t mine?”
M’Gann nods, more to herself than the rest of her team. “It’s a little different than hearing your solid thoughts. It doesn’t… have a range. It’s just a sort of connection.” Fear creates a pit in her gut. “I can get rid of it—!”
“Don’t.” Wally looks oddly sombre for how often he glows with delight. His hands are clenching way too hard around his own arms and he refuses to look at anyone else. “I—”
He doesn’t need to say it. They all understand. Being able to hear each of those distinct noises, knowing that the five people you trust with your whole being are out there, alive and breathing and feeling what you feel—it’s something they need now.
M’Gann lets the almost-white noise drown out the abhorrent loss. Losing her friends in the blink of an eye like that—it felt like she’d been hollowed out by white-hot daggers, leaving nothing but agony and suffering in their wake.
But then her attention comes back to the present, where there are five different warmths sitting in her mind as if they’d been there all along, and M’Gann—
She’s lucky.