So this is for the YoungJusticeHeadcanon Thanksgiving contest. First, because I am Canadian. Second, because this idea has been trapped in my head all week and I finally found the time to write it down. To everyone waiting on my other stories for some reason inspiration has been obliterated by my schoolwork so at the moment I can only think about printing and printing related topics.

220. When Wally had to tell his family of Artemis' supposed death, Bart was present. Bart had known Artemis in the future, for she had returned to the fight when the world began to die. She was not supposed to die. Now that she had, Bart was certain it was his fault. He had saved one hero, and killed another. ~ Inspired by submission by Anonymous.

I do not own Young Justice or its characters.

A/N: WARNING! THIS IS ANGSTY AND SAD. :(

I'll Do All The Talking

Humans were funny creatures, detestable was the word most mentioned in the Kroloteans' reports, but Bart thought humans were funny. There weren't many of them left where he came from but even in their fragility they fought. Those that were alive had persisted. His grandmother had been one them, despite the invasion and all the chaos occurring around her she had managed to raise Dawn and Don all on her own. Cities crumbled. The economy collapsed. Humans were enslaved, metas tested upon and through it all her and a number of other humans never lost hope or faith. It was hard to be optimistic in his world. Even the few moments he could remember about his parents, before their premature deaths, had held such youthful optimism in the face of a pollution filled sky and war ravaged world as more and more heroes fell and no one rose to take their place. Thinking back on it now the only home he had ever known was with his cousin; funny how fate worked.

Bart talked a lot because Artemis couldn't.

Sometime during the first battle of the invasion (nobody really talked about it) something or someone had torn her throat and when all was said and done her vocal cards had been permanently ruined. Although that didn't affect her ability to communicate with just a look (and a few well aimed kicks) she could bring anyone to their knees.

But Artemis let him talk and talk and never stopped him much to Wally's annoyance. Bart talked enough for both of them which was why older Wally had tolerated his incessant nattering, it took away the biting edge of silence; of never hearing his lover's voice (even in their most intimate moments). Some people, mainly jerks and idiots, thought Artemis was spoiling him by letting him talk total nonsense all the time but she wasn't. Bart was only truly comfortable when his face was pressed into her lap and he was allowed to talk and talk and talk because he might go mad otherwise.

There's always residual damage when the only light in your whole world leaves. When Wally had died it had nearly completely broken her.

She had one of those retro cellphones, one that hadn't yet been confiscated by the aliens, and she spent hours and hours scanning through the photos on the memory; just staring at pictures of happier times. She thought he didn't see her do it but he did. After the power was cut at nine he could see the blue glow dancing across her features in the darkness; highlighting the bags under her eyes, the bruises on her face, and the spider-like scar racing across her neck, its legs inching upwards till they disappeared behind her ears. There was no one on the phone that had survived. There were so many missing stories he had never been told. Hers included.

They'd been hiding him. They'd been hiding themselves. For years. You're a speedester. She had written on a piece of soft leather, apparently one of the last pieces of her mother's uniform. The Flash was your grandfather. Wally was a speedester. Your father was a speedster. Your aunt was a speedster.

When you're terrified of being found and getting obliterated you never really get the inclination to go fast so Bart had no idea he had that kind of potential. That kind of hope. He was hope. He was the last.

I'm tired of hiding.

From there they had begun to build the resistance and, true, Artemis couldn't talk; couldn't do more then write and draw out training exercises from her long suppressed memories but by crash she was terrifying with that bow in her hands and her deadly aim - you learned pretty quickly who was the boss and where not to run during drills.

She told him bits of stories through gestures and a few hasty words. She told him about the team and how she had met Wally. About her family. About the invasion and Bart had bolstered, he had learnt, he had a purpose - to take down the enemy.

Then he had met Nathaniel; a prisoner who filled in some of the blanks that Artemis couldn't or wouldn't fill in. The JLA, the sidekicks, the death of Flash - his own part in the desecration of the world.

It wasn't only talking Bart had been cursed with; he'd also been endowed with an intellect to rival even the most advanced races of aliens. It didn't take long for him to begin formulating a plan for how to crash the mode.

Artemis had taken him to the ruins of Mount Justice only once, right after Wally's death so that she could scatter his ashes. (Wouldn't want his DNA falling into the wrong hands.) She'd walked among the debris hands running over rocks and crevices as the grey dust filtered through her fingers. She had looked...it wasn't simply sad there was something deeper lingering in her countenance - responsible? Shame? Then she'd hit something. A quiet metallic clang splintered the air as she kicked something littered among the wreckage. It had been, maybe an arrow, he wasn't sure. It hadn't looked like much of an arrow just half of a broken shaft with a piece of melted metal disfigured on one end - heck it could have been produced by the infamous explosion.

But then she had crumbled in anguish. She had slumped to her knees mourning her husband, slamming her hands against the ground and then Bart had been beside her and he had started talking repeating the few stories she had told him (there were large gaps) and convincing himself the plan was the only way.

Artemis would never come back to Mount Justice again. It was perfect.

Even if he never saw her again. To give Artemis her voice back, to return Wally to her, to fix the future that was never meant to be. He would do it.

One of Bart's secret goals when he returned to the past was to hear Artemis speak; after he of course ensured his own future. He wanted to know about the soft raspy voice his cousin had raved about - much to his mute wife's annoyance.

But now all Bart felt was nauseous as he clenched his fists painfully, digging his nails into his jeans, as the Wests and Garricks listened with growing alarm to Wally's recount of Artemis's death. He tried to appear uninterested, tried to ignore the unbearable gnawing in his stomach or the tears in his eyes He couldn't let them know he had killed her. He had selfishly chosen to save Flash in an ill-concieved foolishly thought out plan to save the future. He'd saved Flash so why had she died? WHY! Saving his grandfather was supposed to fix everything he was the lynch pin. He was the solution. But all he could hear in his head was the harrowing mantra,

She wasn't supposed to die. She wasn't supposed to die.

Humans were funny creatures but he had never considered the mortality of Artemis, for him she'd always been ethereal. Nothing could touch the stoic, silent, brave archer. The one who took down droves of aliens barehanded. Who trained him with everything she had. Who kept a locket with Wally's picture in it against her breast. He'd killed that Artemis. He really was a child foolishly thinking he could change the world.

He couldn't meet Wally's eyes, even though the older boy asked him to accompany him back to Palo Alto because he didn't want to be alone - couldn't be alone. Bart didn't know whether to happy to be a source of comfort for his cousin or sick that he caused this. Why had he tried to change the future? He'd wanted to create a better world for the quiet, strong Artemis, not kill her. How could he have been so wrong?

Bart swallowed thickly as Wally laid out a feast before him, eyes puffy and voice half strangled.

"I'm not really hungry but Ar...Ar...Babe would have my head if I didn't act hospitable. Family you know." All Bart wanted to do was run. Run, and run and run until he caught up to the future or until he burned himself into ash like the fragments Artemis had scattered of Wally at Mount Justice. He wanted to disappear. He couldn't mourn her with everyone else because he wasn't destined to know her (not anymore), but he thought bitterly he knew her better than anyone else.

"I know," Bart swallowed trying to push the words out, "I heard she was a great person. An amazing person."

Wally looked up scrutinizing him probably trying to detect some ploy at insincerity in his words. He can't really blame him. He's been playing the role of a practical joker and trickster since he got here. Bart just really wanted to cry.

"You sound like you know her." He flew across the room gripping Bart's shoulders tightly eyes narrowed. "Is she in the future? Do you know her?"

Bart cringed. In his future she had existed. She had been his family. He had talked too much and she had listened because she couldn't talk at all. But she wasn't there anymore. It was impossible. He had obliterated her. Killed her. She couldn't be there anymore because she was dead now. Wally looked desperate, like he needed this.

He could lie.

Would it be comforting for Wally to know that in a few months time Artemis would have lost her voice for good? That the Justice League would fall. That the world would be thrown into perpetual turmoil. That the speedsters would hide in order to preserve what they could?

"It would affect the future."

"I call bullshit you haven't stopped spoiling it since you got here!" shouted Wally, "Is she in the future or not?!"

Bart choked glistening eyes looking up into Wally's.

"No," Wally released Bart backing away slowly horror splayed across his features, "No, no, no, no! That can't be! What kind of future is that! What have we been fighting for?" Nelson barked behind him.

Wally ran. Bart cried. And somewhere in the future Artemis sat amidst the rubble of Mount Justice the mutilated arrow cutting into her hand as she realized she couldn't hear Bart anymore. No one could hear the silent screams of torment issuing from her soundless lips.