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My god, Artemis thinks, sulking as she waits on the roof, eyes trained on the crime ring meeting taking place just below. Terribly cliche, exchanging dirty money in a darkened alley - the men are even wearing trench coats, gosh, that just screams suspicion. It’s way too easy to pinpoint where they are, and it’d be way too easy to just pick them off right now, knocking them out and tying them up for the police.
But no, Kaldur’s insistent that they need to collect information from them to find out when the next meeting is. It’s part of a larger scheme, a plot that includes human trafficking and dealing drugs - her fingers twitch and she tightens her grip on her bow. Instead of throwing these scum in jail where they belong, she’s forced to stake out on the roof above, listening to them argue and complain, scoffing quietly as they stumble over exposed drain pipes and hears the rustle of folded dollar bills. She has to wait for them to talk about it.
It’s a terrible job. All waiting and no action. These guys aren’t even those at the top of the crime ring; they’re lackies, thugs Artemis can find on the street if she decides to walk home alone late at night - sometimes she can even find them lurking in alleys in broad daylight, sneering at everyone who walks by and acting like they’re tough shit.
And okay, Artemis won’t touch these wannabe-crime-lord boys, but if they decide to do anything untoward to anyone on their separate ways home, she’s going to do something about it. Kaldur’s instructions don’t extend to them inflicting violence on others. If they’re just here to gossip and talk about money, then it’ll just be a boring night.
It’s her luck to be free on this godforsaken night, when everyone else has prior arrangements. M’gann is spending time with Martian Manhunter - and Artemis isn’t going to intrude on that time to ask M’gann to accompany her, Manhunter’s schedule is packed enough as it is, what with him being a Justice League Member. M’gann deserves all the time with him she can get.
Robin is off with Batman, scouring the streets of Gotham to beat up Scarecrow. He’s escaped from Arkham Asylum again, supposedly - how these Gotham villains keep managing to escape, Artemis will never understand. But yes, Scarecrow, big bad, fear gas equals mass panic, Robin is needed. Elsewhere. So he can’t go on this stakeout.
As for Conner, he’s finally bonding with Superman. Batman must have said something to get it through Superman’s thick skull that Conner’s only familial relation, like it or not, is Superman, and Conner’s going to need someone to look up to. A father figure, or at the very least, a mentor. Never knew the day would come when Batman’s a better dad than Superman, she thinks, thumbing her arrow. Maybe they’re in Superman’s Ice Fortress. Fortress of Solitude, whatever it’s called. All she knows is that they haven’t been invited - which, rude, because she’s pretty certain Robin’s seen the inside of it while tagging along with Batman - and that’s all that’s important.
Kaldur’s in Atlantis, catching up with Garth and Tula. Again, Artemis can’t find it in her to intrude on that. Wally - now this boy, he has the worst excuse ever. He has an examination tomorrow, one that he can’t fail or he’ll get a failing grade for the class, which will do wonders for his parents’ opinion on his extra-curricular activities . And okay, Artemis understands, she goes to Gotham Academy as well, the standard there’s pretty high. But wouldn’t the fastest kid in the world have some secret studying technique to study efficiently, utilizing time to its maximum potential or something?
“I’ve been grounded,” he said petulantly when Artemis called him up, wondering if he’d do the stakeout with her. Stakeouts are always boring, but doing them in pairs isn’t as bad. And after the battle with the Light and brainwashed Justice League Members, they’ve definitely gotten closer. She wouldn’t mind doing the stakeout with Wally. He’s… not too bad, when not trying to rile her up.
“That’s a rubbish excuse.”
“It’s the truth,” Wally insisted. “My parents want me to stay in and revise for the paper. They refuse to let me out of the house. They roped in Robin to help install special cameras in my room that’ll catch me on footage if I leave, even at my fastest speed. It’s terrible.”
“Still a rubbish reason,” Artemis replied, and hung up.
And now here she is, still waiting on top of that roof because the thugs below are taking their own sweet time to talk about the crime ring, and she has no one to talk to. She’s bored out of her mind, and wonders if Kaldur will mind much if she just, y’know, shoots an arrow down to terrify them a bit. Rough them up a little. She won’t hurt them too badly, just a little punch here and there, maybe a kick or two. That’ll probably get them to talk faster. Thugs know the language of fear and threats way better than anything else.
Oh boy, one of them is threatening to punch the other for stepping on his shoes or something. If they break out in a fight before they say anything about the next meeting, Artemis is just going to go in and stop them from contributing too much to the damage of the city. That’s a good reason, right?
You doing okay? A familiar voice floats into her mind and ooh, it makes the tension of boredom bleed out of her shoulders.
Not so hot, Artemis admits, pressing her cheek against her palm, a smile tugging at her lips. Aren’t you supposed to be having some nice bonding time with your uncle?
I wanted to check on you, M’gann replies, amusement tinging her thoughts. You always get bored really quickly when there’s no action.
This is why she wanted M’gann on this stakeout, Artemis thinks fondly, hiding that thought and preventing it from being read by M’gann. The Martian always knows how to make things fun, and it doesn’t help matters that she adores Artemis as much as Artemis adores her. M’gann knows Artemis better than Artemis knows herself, probably.
Better now that you’re in my mind, Artemis says, smiling quietly to herself. If you’d been here, it could have been date night number three.
M’gann laughs in her mind, a bright spark against her eyes and Artemis sighs, running her hand through her ponytail. God, why can’t the thugs just get to the point? She could be over and done with this and be back at Mount Justice cuddling with M’gann before her 3 a.m. curfew is up and she has to run home.
Date night one was fighting Klarion, right? M’gann asks. Date night two was supposed to be a movie, but Wally got into trouble and we had to help.
Which is why a stakeout would have been a perfect date night three, Artemis reasons. It’s boring, nothing interesting happening, all the time in the world for each other. Under the night sky, stars everywhere, just you and me.
That does sound nice, M’gann agrees, laughing quietly. But you’re still on a job, aren’t you? When I’m done, I’ll drop by to help you out. Are they taking very long to discuss the next meeting point?
Yea- Artemis pauses, looking over and blinking. Oh boy , she says, lips spreading into a grin. They’re fighting each other. Throwing punches and all. Maybe that guy was really pissed that his friend stepped on his shoe. Or not his friend, after all.
Should you be stopping them? I can link with Kaldur and ask him.
Artemis thinks about it for a second. But no, thugs like these only deal with fists. She knows, she’s spent quite a while on the streets, trying to be tough, trying to be a thug, trying to be like her father or mother to see if that’s really the path she should be going down, like her sister.
Nah, she replies, and presses down against the cool concrete. The moon hangs high in the air, bright and full and yeah, it would have been a good date night. I’ll just hold off. Wait for them to talk, god.
We can go somewhere else, M’gann says comfortingly. Maybe go to a pool or something. A lake? There’s one near Mount Justice.
You’ve got yourself a date, Artemis thinks, lips tugging up, and she feels comfortable, relaxed, and primed for action. See you when you get here, pretty girl.
See you, pretty archer, M’gann giggles, and Artemis stretches, preparing to nock her arrow and let it fly if need be.
The night’s not so boring after all.
-=-
True to form, they have date three at the creek, just a short distance away from Mount Justice. Artemis’ grown up in the city, lived in there until she breathes smog, concrete staining her elbows and knees, a certain vigilance ingrained into her. So it’s different - good different, like stepping from summer into winter - when she lies down on the soft grass, M’gann lying down beside her, and they’re surrounded by trees.
The water is crystal clear, and it looks like it’s shimmering as the sunlight drips in through the cracks in the shade, glinting off the surface of the stream. There’s a couple of rocks submerged below, worn smooth by the coursing water, and the whole place is beautiful. Artemis didn’t even know that a quiet, ethereal place like this existed near Mount Justice. It feels like time is slowing, pausing for just the two of them, in this little flicker of a space to let them relax.
“Like it?” M’gann asks shyly, sitting up. She leans over Artemis, and her flaming red hair falls in a curtain around Artemis. The top of M’gann’s hair looks fire bright, like a gentle halo circling her head. M’gann’s a little pink, shoulders drawn up to press against her cheeks and she looks like a mirage.
Artemis reaches up, curling a strand of M’gann’s hair around her fingertips and smiles. “Yeah. This is nice.”
They’re off duty - M’gann went to talk with Kaldur and Kaldur is brilliant, the nicest guy in the whole world and number two on Artemis’ favourite people list because he rearranges their schedule until M’gann and Artemis have the whole day off. While the rest of the team are in Mount Justice, ready to respond to whichever villain decides to attack, M’gann and Artemis will only be called in when necessary.
It feels a little like a dream, just lying here in the middle of a clearing in the forest, next to a clear stream, with the girl she loves the most leaning over her, eyes bright and beautiful.
She cups M’gann’s cheeks and pulls her down, pressing her lips against hers for a heartbeat. They’re soft, and when M’gann pulls back, her face is almost as red as her hair, smiling fondly at Artemis.
Artemis smiles back, probably looking like an idiot - an idiot in love , because she’s incredibly lucky and M’gann loves her back, and sits up. M’gann settles next to her, head in Artemis’ lap, and Artemis doesn’t even resist, letting her fingers trail through the red strands, gently picking out the knots in her hair.
“Wanna swim?” Artemis asks, quietly brushing M’gann’s hair. M’gann makes a questioning noise and shifts, head resting on the curve of Artemis’ thigh, like she’s ready to just start sleeping. “The river looks nice and cool. Or we could sleep here, since you look like you’re in the perfect position to knock off, pretty girl.”
“Sleeping on our one day off?” M’gann laughs, sounding like a windchime. “That’s a poor use of our date, isn’t it? If you want to swim, go ahead. I’ll just sit here and appreciate the view of a dripping wet girlfriend.”
“Nice of you to appreciate me so much. Do you think there’s fish in there?” Artemis says, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t mind going fishing. Stab a few and bring them back for you to cook. Oh- will Kaldur mind?”
M’gann hums. “I think he’s out tonight. He said that it’s alright if we don’t eat them in front of him, right? He says he’ll never fathom why we would eat sea creatures, but he understands, so it should be okay.” She pats Artemis’ thigh, lips curling up. “If you want to swim, you should go in now, when it’s shady and the water’s cool. When it gets to the afternoon, it’ll be super hot and the water will be freezing.”
“Who needs a weather reporter when I’ve got you?,” Artemis says, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to M’gann’s hair. “Speaking from experience?”
“Maybe.” M’gann makes a face, shivering at the memory. “I’ll join you in a bit. This grass is really soft. And I want to make a flower chain too, Robin taught me how to last night.”
“Robin taught you how to make a flower chain?” Artemis says incredulously, but moves M’gann’s head to the grass and stands, stretching. “Who taught him, Batman? That’s going to feature in a few of my nightmares. Batman with a flower crown. Oh my god. Batman saving Gotham and punching the Joker in the face with a flower crown. Oh my god.”
M’gann laughs, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped around her abdomen as she writhes on the grass, tears collecting at the corner of her eyes. “Robin’s very good at them though! The ones he showed me were really nice. Apparently he made friendship bracelets for Wally and him too! He showed me how to make them for you, which was very sweet of him.”
“Friendship bracelets for Wally,” Artemis repeats. “I am looking at him in a totally new light now, and boy is that light bright . I’m sure whatever you make will be better than what he makes, though.”
M’gann beams up at her. “Really? I’ll start making the flower chain now then! Shoo, go and swim, you can see my flower crown when it’s done.” She flaps her hand at Artemis, and Artemis can feel something pushing at her back, a small force nudging at the curve of her spine.
Artemis - thankfully - had worn her swimming costume beneath her clothes; when she goes to a creek, she’s going to swim. It’s an Artemis law. She takes off her clothes, placing it next to M’gann who’s humming as she picks flowers, gathering them in a small pile.
She reaches back to tighten her ponytail and strides over to the water, dipping her hand in to feel the current brush against her palm, tiny waves hitting her as the water flows around her. Artemis looks back at M’gann and grins, flicking her palm up and the water droplets fly, splashing against M’gann.
M’gann laughs, and a wave of water rises up, crashing down on Artemis and oh, that’s cold, it’s super cold and now Artemis is drenched even though she’s still on land. She laughs, shivering on land, and runs a hand through her pony tail.
She braces herself and dives in, making a wounded noise when the cold water envelops her whole body. Artemis twists her body, following her momentum to turn to face the water surface and-
There’s a crack that rings her ears, loud and painful and her sight whites out. It’s an inexplicable burning pain that rings in her head, throbbing and shaking and for a moment Artemis opens her mouth, eyes wide, choking because there’s pain, unbearable pain, she’s never felt like this even when she broke three ribs and her femur, it’s never been like this.
Her spine tingles, like static pressing against her bones and suddenly, she’s numb.
She can tell she’s sinking to the bottom of the river - because gravity is a thing that exists - and all of a sudden, for a terrifying moment that squeezes around her heart and blocks her throat, Artemis realises she can’t move. She literally has no control over her arms and legs, and when she tries - despite the pain, she has to try, or she’ll drown - to contract her muscles, clench her abdomen to propel herself forward, there’s no response. It’s like her nerves have been cut off, wrung out and tied up, and she can’t- she can’t make herself do anything.
Her eyes are wide and if she were above water, she’d definitely be having a panic attack right now. As it is, she can hear the blood roaring in her ears, speeding up with the shot of fear and horror thrumming through her veins and she can’t think straight, she can’t make sense of anything, why can’t she move?
She sees M’gann’s face above the water, her eyes filled with worry and it eases something in Artemis, just a bit, because her oxygen supply is decreasing rapidly and she can feel the beginnings of unconsciousness set in, her eyelids getting droopy and her heart slowing.
M’gann’s lips move, but Artemis can’t tell what she’s saying, not when the water’s rippling and M’gann’s reaching into the water to grip her. Artemis can’t feel M’gann’s hands - and that’s a scary thought, a really frightening thought that she doesn’t want to focus on or she’ll start crying, probably - and her eyes open slightly wider, mouth open in a cry because M’gann’s jostling her, and Artemis doesn’t have the strength to keep her head aligned to her unresponsive body.
Thankfully, M’gann seems to notice and she releases Artemis, a soft press against her head and neck replaces M’gann’s hands, and it feels like she’s lying on a soft bed except she can only feel it from shoulders up, and she isn’t sure if she’s shaking, but it sure feels like she’s vibrating out of her skin.
“I can’t move,” she says, and her voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, and M’gann’s hovering over her, biting her lip, fingers clenching around air like she isn’t sure where to put them. M’gann settles for tentatively pressing them against Artemis’ arm and Artemis, she can’t, she can’t feel that.
“I can’t feel your fingers,” Artemis says, voice going high, higher, and M’gann looks like she’s going to cry.
“Okay,” she mumbles, fingers visibly shaking. “Okay, I’m- I’m taking you to Mount J-Justice and we’ll get the team to contact whoever, Batman or someone, just, hold- hold on.”
Artemis feels like crying, and she’s very certain that there’s tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, but M’gann’s her pretty girl and she looks so torn up that Artemis musters up the energy to smile weakly at her. “I’m not going anywhere soon.”
“Yeah,” M’gann says, fingers pressed to her temple, and she’s probably contacting Kaldur now, maybe the whole team, and sure enough, there’s a red blur and Wally’s by their sides, blinking and mouth agape.
He swears under his breath, and Artemis feels weak, feels useless, feels entirely incapable in front of Wally because she’s immobile. It’s a weakness. She hates showing weaknesses to anyone. If she stays like this - so static, so motionless, so weak - she isn’t sure how she’ll face Wally, or anyone. M’gann, maybe - she’s in love with her for a reason and it’s because M’gann’s the sweetest girl she knows - but for anyone else in the team, it’s a bit of a stretch.
M’gann floats her back to Mount Justice, flying ahead as fast as she can and Wally races to clear any foliage that might accidentally hit Artemis. She’s back in no time, and M’gann lays her down on her bed, slowly, gently, fingers lightly pressing against Artemis’ temple to offer support.
It’s okay, Artemis thinks desperately, sending the thought to M’gann, trying to comfort her pretty girl.
M’gann shakes her head, and her fingers tremble as they press against Artemis’ skin. It’s not, Artemis. I’m so worried.
And yeah, Artemis is fully aware of that. There’s still pain reverberating in her mind and she’s drifting into unconsciousness, she can’t feel anything below her shoulders and she’s fairly certain she’s struggling to breathe - yeah. Artemis knows. It’s not okay, not at all.
-=-
She first wakes up to brightness behind her eyelids, a painfully blinding light and she tenses, squeezing her eyes shut.
Artemis can hear M’gann say something, and the light dims. A cool hand presses to her forehead and she tries to tilt upwards, chasing the feeling, but she can’t.
Immediately, her eyes fly open. There’s a mask across her face - oxygen mask? Are there tubes in her right now? Her heartbeat elevates, spiking sharply and she can hear the system go crazy, bursts of beeps only seconds apart, each sound making her panic even more.
She can feel the tubes in her, tracking down her neck and into her lungs, a heavy pressure in her body and oxygen isn’t rushing into her lungs fast enough. Artemis gasps, trying to take in more oxygen - but the brilliance of an oxygen mask is how it controls the amount of oxygen entering her lungs, entering her bloodstream, and right now it’s way too little, too little oxygen circulating in her lungs, breath turning shallow, eyes growing wide.
“Artemis!” M’gann comes into her vision - and oh, Artemis realises with a start that she can’t turn her neck, there’s something large held around it to keep it in place and M’gann looks worried, brows furrowed together and she rests the tips of her fingers against Artemis’ forehead, fluttering over her cheeks, pressing lightly against her collarbones, all the areas that Artemis is certain she can still feel sensation at. It’s a strange, startling, unnerving feeling to be able to feel the wind from the overhead fan against her face, her hair, neck and shoulders, but she can’t feel the way her clothes brush against her skin or the way the sheets rest against her bare feet.
M’gann’s touch reassures her - barely, but at least the sensation of her fingers are proof that Artemis can still feel something, anything, and M’gann murmurs to her, random happenings in her life, the missions that they’ve been on while she was out, how M’gann finally finished the flower crown and it’s resting on Artemis’ table.
“Deep breaths,” M’gann murmurs, pressing against the base of Artemis’ chin to feel her pulse. Not that she needs to, when the screen next to her is still beeping furiously, tracking Artemis’ heart beat. “Breathe with me. In and out, slowly.”
M’gann’s a solid presence, pressing against the back of Artemis’ mind, cool and comforting, something that anchors Artemis to reality. Her breathing slows, gradually calming down as she hears M’gann talk, and she takes in a shuddery breath, shoulders shaking with the effort. The oxygen swirls in her lungs, flooding into her bloodstream, and she feels slightly calmer, no longer feeling like she’s buzzing out of her skin.
There’s definitely tears at the corners of her eyes, a byproduct of her hyperventilation, and she hurriedly blinks them away. M’gann sees, and she gently rubs her thumb at the corner of Artemis’ eyes. “You’re okay. With me, you’re okay. Don’t worry.”
Empty words, empty promises, because with the brace around her neck, thick and heavy, with the way she can’t make her fingers respond or toes curl, loose-limbed and useless - there’s no way Artemis can’t worry.
M’gann presses something at the side of the bed, and the upper half of the bed elevates, propping Artemis high enough to see the tube in her wrist, the IV drip it’s connected to, and if she squints hard enough she can see the top of the brace around her neck. It looks like it’s made of styrofoam or something soft, but it feels like plaster, holding her neck in place and she can’t turn her head at all.
Thanks, she thinks quietly, eyes trained on M’gann. Her throat feels too clogged and she isn’t sure her vocal chords are working right now, so she isn’t even going to attempt talking. M’gann startles a little, but brightens up immediately after, leaning forward with a soft smile on her face and presses her lips to Artemis’ forehead.
“Do you think it’s okay if the rest come in to see you?” M’gann asks gently. “They’ve been waiting for a long time. Wally wanted to rush in when we heard your heart rate spike, but we’ve already arranged earlier to not disturb you without your permission.”
Artemis - she doesn’t want the team to see her in this position, weak, trapped, useless. Even though they’ve gotten close to the point that Artemis could bleed out on any single one of them and trust that they’d get her to safety, or trust that they’d never stab her in the back; even then, even then , she still recoils from the thought of showing weaknesses to anyone.
She remembers how her father used it against her, how her sister wrung it out of her and ruined her with it. She remembers how it’s brought her mother to where she is now, how it’s taken her mother apart and split her open until she’s left, legs useless, trapped in a wheelchair.
And it hits her, suddenly, slamming into her mind with the force of a sledgehammer that she’s, she’s more like her mom than ever now, more like her mom than she will ever be like her father or even her sister. Now she’s trapped too, neck brace a constricting ring around her throat, limbs motionless and unresponsive; she’s not any better than her mother now, is she?
She was Artemis, protege to Green Arrow, younger pseudo-sister to Red Arrow - who slowly warmed up to her, slowly taught her how to improve her aim at targets moving at high speed, at how to program her quivver to switch out arrows with different uses - and daughter of a ruined Huntress, daughter of villain Sportsmaster, sister of villainess Cheshire.
She had been a member of the team at Mount Justice- she had been a full fledged member of Young Justice, fighting the crime that her father and sister brought into the world and now, now she’s like her mother.
Left sitting at home, stuck in a wheelchair, unable to function properly, relying on others for every little thing and it doesn’t sit right with her. Her skin doesn’t feel like hers anymore. It feels like a stranger’s, like someone switched her consciousness out with a wrecked body.
No , she tells M’gann, and she doesn’t look at her girlfriend, afraid of what she’ll find in those eyes. If it’s pity, Artemis can’t be sure what she’ll do. She doesn’t even have the coordination - or the strength, or the ability - to throw things around in a fury, to throw a temper, to let loose and punch a wall, hard, because if she can’t even feel her arms, she’s never going to be able to fight again. All she’ll be able to do is shake and seethe and rage and break down, and-
Artemis trains her eyes on the door, staring at the smooth unblemished metal, tracking her eyes down the groove of metal at the hinge, tracing over the surface of the scanner with her gaze.
She’ll never be able to scan her fingerprints again, not when she can’t even lift her arm.
-=-
Maybe she’s lucky that her mother’s in a wheelchair as well. At least she has someone at home who vaguely - vaguely, because her mother’s condition doesn’t even come close to hers - understands her emotions. Her mother was once a giant in the field as well, the beautiful, stunningly dangerous and deadly Huntress, brought down to Earth after someone clipped her wings and left her a paraplegic, paralyzed from hips down.
She takes one look at Artemis and her hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up, and Artemis looks away, eyes darting to the far end and refusing to focus on the blurry, out of focus image of her mother. Her neck’s still held in place by the brace, and she can’t turn to avoid the sight of her mother breaking down.
M’gann stands awkwardly behind her, a hand on Artemis’ shoulder, squeezing lightly. Artemis is in a wheelchair eerily similar to her mother’s, but her arms rest limply on the armrests and her back is held up straight by the brace. Without it, she’d probably slump in and over on herself, folding into two, sliding on the floor.
Artemis swallows tightly, and feels the ache linger in her throat, still not fully healed. She’s past the stage where she required ventilation, and she can breathe, chew, swallow, but every time she eats, it’s with the help of M’gann, who sits by her bedside and blows on the congee before bringing the spoon to Artemis’ mouth. She’s on a strict liquid only diet, with simple solids like congee.
She can’t feed herself, and Artemis can’t help but feel like a child, struggling in a high chair, fingers too thick and pudgy to wrap around the spoon properly, motor functions too out of whack to feed herself.
“Artemis,” her mother whispers into the air, voice high and shaky, eyes wide with worry and fear. “Are-”
“I’m fine,” Artemis says, voice scratchy, cracking in the middle of that short simple sentence. “I’m okay.”
“Oh baby,” her mother says, moving forward. It’s been a while since Artemis has looked her mother in the eye, since she hit puberty and grew as tall as her sister, towering over her wheelchair bound mother. “Honey, it’s alright if you’re not okay.”
She reaches out tentatively, fingers landing on Artemis’ arms, stroking gently, and Artemis doesn’t respond. She can see her mother’s fingers on her arms but she can’t feel anything - not the gentle pressure of skin on skin, not the callused tips of her mother’s fingers, not the way her mother trails her fingers up Artemis’ arms, tracing upwards slowly, gradually, until she reaches Artemis’ shoulders, her collarbones, and Artemis lets out a shivering breath.
Tension that she didn’t know lingered in her body seeps out of her, and Artemis looks at her mother, revelling in the feeling of familiar callused fingertips pressing into her shoulders, into the curve of her collarbone, against her cheeks and her brows, the bridge of her nose, her hairline. It feels like her mother is rediscovering her, tracing all her features with her fingers, memorising her daughter once more.
It feels like a memory when her mother cards her fingers through Artemis’ hair, tugging at the strands, and there’s a sweet, sweet pressure that she can feel. It feels heady, and maybe she’s become more sensitive in areas that she can feel sensation in, seeing as the rest of her body is pretty much unresponsive.
Maybe her mother is fully aware of that, and Artemis blinks hurriedly. The last time she cried in front of her mother was when she was eight, when her sister left right after her father ended up back in jail. She doesn’t want to repeat the experience.
“It’s okay,” her mother murmurs, gently cupping Artemis’ cheeks and wiping at the tears at the corner of her eyes. “It’s okay to cry.”
M’gann runs her fingers through the ends of Artemis’ hair, resting her fingers against the space between her shoulder blades, the lowest place where Artemis can still feel pressure at, and Artemis-
She breaks down, eyes closing, shoulders shaking as she tries to wipe out the image she saw in the mirror as she passed by her room, the full length mirror that she used to pose in front of, holding her bow and quiver and making smug faces at herself; she tries to forget the image she glimpsed when her eyes darted to her reflection, the image of her pressed against the back of the wheelchair, a large white brace around her neck like a thick collar, and her arms on the armrests, legs motionless on the footrests. Her hair is slightly stringy, eye bags terribly obvious, lips chapped and dry - she looks like a wreck.
Artemis thinks of the girl swinging on a rope, quiver on her back, bow in her hands, letting go of the rope and yelling, whooping as she nocks her arrow and draws it back, watching it fly and it explodes in the air in a show of golden and red, fire and dust. Robin is running next to her, Batarangs in his hand, grinning as he throws him behind him without looking back - there are pained cries behind them and Artemis throws a look back to see a couple of men tumbling over themselves; Kaldur is further in front, using his water bearers to hold back a sudden surge of thugs. Wally’s ahead - always ahead, always in front, running faster than anything Artemis can ever fathom and he’s taking out guys of his own, hollering every time one goes down. Conner’s off on bodyguard duty, protecting the Prime Minister and fending off some insurgents, by the thoughts in his mind. M’gann is hovering in the air, using her telekinesis to fling thugs into each other, bringing them down group by group.
She takes a deep breath that reverberates in her mind, shaking as she does so, squeezing her eyes shut, and she mourns, mourns the death of the girl who had everything in the world.
-=-
Her doctor is Leslie Thompkins, from Gotham, someone Batman inexplicably trusts. She’s tall, hair tied back in a fierce bun, and she speaks to Artemis like she speaks to Batman, like she speaks to M’gann, like she speaks to Artemis’ mother. She doesn’t treat Artemis any different from able-bodied people and it’s a relief from those who will soften their voice and talk to Artemis like she’s a child, thinking that tone is comforting.
It just makes Artemis feel simple and it’s not a particularly nice feeling.
But Doctor Leslie treats her the way she’d probably treat Artemis if she were still able-bodied, and it’s a relief.
“You’re a quadriplegic,” she says without any preamble, without any qualms, and Artemis appreciates her straightforwardness. “Essentially, loss of muscle function in your arms and legs. Based on tests, you are paralyzed from shoulders down.”
Artemis already knows all this. She’s too aware, brutally aware of this… shortcoming.
“We will be trying physical therapy to see if you can regain any function over your limbs, though there is a very low chance that you will regain any control at all.”
“Okay,” Artemis says. There really isn’t anything else to say. If she can get any sort of movement and control back over her arms, any at all, she’s going to work for it. Or die trying. She’s not picky.
“First, we’re going to introduce you to the Sip-And-Puff wheelchair,” Doctor Leslie says. “You’re going to be able to drive the powered wheelchair by yourself.”
Artemis lights up.
-=-
The physical therapy is a bust. A huge bust. Even bigger than the drugs busts they do in Gotham.
After days, weeks, months, Artemis is starting to lose hope. Her muscles still aren’t responding to her and everything below her shoulders is still frozen in place - she can’t even muster up the energy to feel angry or upset. She’s just tired, so tired of sitting there motionless, so tired and weary of being useless, and the weariness that settles in her bones is heavy and endless, a long slow echo of what she’s incapable of now.
She has bad days. Sometimes Artemis thinks she can still move, she looks at her fingers and thinks that they’re twitching, that she’s regained just the tiniest bit of control over it again, and she crashes even harder after she stares at herself in the mirror for hours on end and has to reaffirm the fact that she can’t move. Sometimes she retreats into herself, staying quiet, eyes dark and empty, staring off into nowhere.
Sometimes she tries to blame M’gann, taking her anger out on her, shouting and sobbing and M’gann doesn’t do anything, just takes it all in stride, leaning in close to wrap her arms around Artemis’ shoulders where she can feel it, presses her face against Artemis’ neck until Artemis can feel her tears and shaking lips against her skin, and M’gann’s just there, gripping her, anchoring her, fingers gripping her shoulders and after these incidents Artemis is always quiet for a long while, eyes red and wet, trying to tilt forward and press harder against M’gann.
M’gann, the beautiful girl, Artemis’ beautiful girl, just slowly rubs at her neck, gently pressing into Artemis’ shoulders, and she forgives Artemis’ every single time.
She’s endlessly patient with Artemis, recognising what Artemis wants or needs in an instant and she only steps in to help if Artemis requires it. She understands Artemis, and sometimes when her pride chokes her up too much, the words unable to exit her mouth, and she’s incapable of asking for help - M’gann understands what she wants.
The telepathy is a great help. M’gann helps to feed her, helps Artemis put on a jacket, helps her onto and off the bed; Artemis- she’s just, lucky.
She’s lucky that she has someone like M’gann. God knows Artemis wasn’t this understanding, or this kind to her mother when she returned one night in a wheelchair, hands clenched and trembling against the armrest.
M’gann presses a kiss to Artemis’ lips, soft and warm, and Artemis tilts up, returning the kiss.
Maybe physical therapy didn’t work, and that sucks, but maybe it’s just time to acknowledge the fact that she’s a quadriplegic and may never regain control over her muscles. It’s time to return to reality - with M’gann here, Artemis thinks, reality isn’t, it isn’t so bad.
-=-
The main difference about living as a quadriplegic and as an able-bodied person is that she can’t move. Her mind still works as it used to, fast as a whip, and her mother pushes for her return to Gotham Academy.
“You might want to consider going back to school,” she says, and well, majority of her mother’s advice has been pretty good ever since Artemis became a quadriplegic. Not that her mother’s advice wasn’t good before that; Artemis just never really had a reason to listen.
Now, with the way she’s assimilated back into life, the way she’s more comfortable with asking for help, the way she’s mobile with her powered wheelchair, the way her emotions have settled and now she’s just grateful to be alive more than ever, Artemis finds that she doesn’t really mind going back to school.
The only problem - the only worry - is who will help her in school. M’gann’s been taking a break from school to help with Artemis, but she’s technically enrolled in Wally’s school, and she can’t follow Artemis to Gotham Academy.
Her mother promises to find a way to solve that problem, to help Artemis find someone she can trust to help her and be her hands in Gotham Academy, and Artemis trusts her.
It’s a nice, warm feeling, being able to place her utmost faith in her mother the way she used to when she was a child, before she grew older and jaded and closed off.
-=-
The weird boy from her first day at school, the one who ran up to her and took a selfie with her - he’s the one who’s going to help her in school, apparently.
He smiles brightly, like he doesn’t care at all about how Artemis is a quadriplegic and introduces himself with a flourish, promising that they’ll be great friends.
“Dick Grayson,” he says, dressed smartly in his school uniform, eyes glittering. Artemis looks at him and her lips tug up involuntarily.
Maybe going back to school won’t be so bad.
-=-
She can’t exactly go back to her old life, not when she can’t lift her bow and quiver, not when she can’t fight.
But the team is as warm as ever, welcoming her back as if she never took a break, as if she hasn’t undergone a huge change. They’re considerate, helping to feed her if she needs it, or rubbing her shoulders when she cramps up, muscles pulling; they still treat her like she’s Artemis, like before, and it’s so, so nice.
Wally still pokes fun at her, and she still shoots back at him, a smile on her face, and M’gann’s always on her side if she wants to throw a pillow at Wally, or something.
Artemis isn’t really part of the ‘superhero’ part of the team anymore, but she’s part of the team as a whole, and they hang out in Mount Justice, like nothing’s different, watching television and yelling at the shows, watching M’gann try to cook - which she’s getting better at, really - laughing at Wolf attacking Conner with unparalleled passion, and it’s all familiar.
She’s back on the team, back with her friends, and it feels like she’s regained control over her life.
-=-
“Artemis,” Batman says, incredibly ominous, and Artemis looks up at him, swallowing tightly. He makes flower crowns, she thinks desperately, and Robin chokes at the side. Oh, she’s forgotten that M’gann still has the telepathic link open.
“With your accident, you are no longer on the team. You have understood and accepted this, correct?”
Is he going to ban her from Mount Justice or something? That’s actually… worrying. “That’s correct,” she says slowly, hesitantly.
Batman nods, and turns, striding off to a room in the corner, right next to Artemis’ room and wait, Artemis does not remember there being a room there. What?
She follows, and the rest of the team pretty much follows after her, until they’re all crowded in the room filled with holographic screens.
“In light of your… condition,” Batman starts, and it sounds slightly stilted, slightly rehearsed, slightly awkward . “I have set up a system that you can use, should you choose to remain on the team. The screens here are all voice activated and have been programmed to respond to your voice only. You will be able to follow the team on missions and act as their support in any form necessary.”
He pauses, mouth still open, before closing it, as if he’s at a loss for words. Artemis has never seen Batman at a loss for words, and she’d be laughing if she isn’t sure if she can breathe right now.
“Artemis?” M’gann says, rubbing at her shoulders to release the tension there, gently pressing against her neck. There’s a slightly smug, slightly worried feeling floating over the link, and it hits Artemis that they’ve all been in on this. They all knew.
She’s choking up, blinking harshly and her mouth opens and closes uselessly, unable to say anything. She can’t, she can’t think straight because she had never even considered the possibility of her returning to the team in any way at all, but now the opportunity is staring her right in the face and she’s so-
“Thank you,” she blurts out, voice shaky and high. “Thank you so much, I didn’t, I never thought I could, this is amazing, thank you, thank you Batman, thank you so much -”
She trails off, lips pressing tightly together before she embarrasses herself further, and M’gann, her pretty girl, envelops her in a hug, pressing her lips against Artemis’ temple, and Artemis can feel M’gann’s lips pull up in a smile.
Batman nods stiffly, as if unused to excessive outward display of emotion - Artemis doesn’t blame him, she’s the same, this is just, well, very overwhelming . “If you are willing to rejoin the team, you will reclaim your old Justice League designation B07.”
“Yes,” Artemis says quickly, before Batman can even consider retracting his offer. “Please.”
“Welcome back to the team, Artemis, Justice League Designation B07.” Batman pauses, giving her a long lingering look before he sweeps out of the room, and the team huddle in around her, beaming and smiling and they press fingers into her shoulders, thread it through her hair, against her collarbones and Artemis is-
She’s so happy, so delighted, and so incredibly content.