...So, um...hi. *waves hand weakly* Sorry that I kind of abandoned this story for nearly four years. You guys didn't deserve it.

Anyway, a lot has happened during that time, and I kind of drifted away from Young Justice, even if I'm still really involved in the comics fandom as a whole. But I was absolutely determined to finish this fic, even if it meant taking my sweet time to do it. Technically, this chapter has been sitting nearly finished on my computer for around a year now; I kept trying (and utterly failing) to write Artemis' portion of this chapter. This chapter is interesting, because you can actually, if you look, see my progression as a writer a little bit: I wrote Dick's portion first, back in 2013. Conner and Artemis were the final portions of this chapter to get written. I tried very hard to keep the spirit and style of the rest of the fic, even though my writing style has significantly evolved since I last updated (and my constant parentheses and sidenotes were an experiment in style at the time anyway). I am also thinking about re-writing large sections of this fic (particularly Part 1 and Part 3) to sort of...update and rework them. They could definitely be a lot better than what they currently are.

Unfortunately, I have no guarantees about when the final chapter will be up. I haven't even started it, as I am stuck between the "one time" being Summit or Endgame (aka, the one time everyone lived or the one time they grieved for Wally instead). At any rate, at least you get the full five times before I go a long time without updating again. To my readers that never left and kept me on their subscriptions list, thank you so much for not giving up on me! And to my reviewers, thank you so very much for your kind words. It's been quite a trip. Enjoy the chapter!

-Bree

5. Faked

He knows she's alive. That doesn't make this any easier.

He hates what he's become; this cold, hard person that sacrifices everything for the mission. He hates himself for succumbing, for becoming the very thing he feared the most. A vision flashes in his mind: a suit with a familiar emblem painted across the chest, only this time, the form the suit encases is not the strong, intimidating form of his mentor (of his father), but a slighter, more lithe form (himself, his face stony and unemotional). He shudders, and turns his attentions to the papers on his desk in a vain attempt to take his mind off of the situation. He's terrified that he'll be found out (that she'll be found out). That she'll be discovered and everything they fought for and sacrificed will be for naught.

He knows Wally is terrified. He knows Wally's going crazy at the thought of Artemis in danger, that he's irate at him for putting her through this suicidal plan (it only makes him feel worse). He's almost as terrified as Wally, if he's honest with himself; this is the last thing he wanted to do. He never wanted to put her in danger.

He winces at the thought of the Team, at the shocked grief and suffering that he had witnessed earlier that night when he broke the news (fast and blunt, like a band-aid). He had watched in silence as Zatanna and Rocket broke down, as Gar tried to comfort M'gann while she sobbed on the couch, as Tim sat in the corner in silence and Blue Beetle followed Impulse as he tore down the hallway, as Conner wavered between his own grief and the temptation to console M'gann.

And it wasn't even just Artemis' death. L'gann was gone as well (he didn't mean for that to happen, but it doesn't matter; the fact remains that it did). Two in one night; one captured and one dead. It was too much for them, and Dick despises himself for putting them through this, for foisting this cruel trick on his team and his friends (for killing his team internally).

He can't see any other way. He couldn't find any other way to solve this problem without inside information, and for that he needed a double agent. Kaldur was wonderful, and had gotten him so much information that was invaluable, but he needed someone who could afford to take some risks gathering information. Kaldur could not sacrifice his relationship with his father to sneak around gathering information. Artemis would have no one to answer to except Kal. He needed Artemis on the inside, but he needed her to be safe. And so Operation Goddess Fall was born.

He knows she's alive. He knows that she's relatively safe on a ship headed for the Marinara Trench, even though she's surrounded by the enemy. He knows that she will succeed, that she'll be one of the most invaluable people he has, but it doesn't make it any easier. It is never easy to sacrifice for the sake of the mission. Dick had sworn that he would never become that person, that he would never become the Batman, but it looked like he was going back on his word of his own accord. He hates it, but he can't see any other way.

Dick Grayson, Nightwing, despises himself, and he silently acknowledges that once everything came out, he won't be surprised if the Team never trusts him again. To them, Artemis Crock was dead (their friend, their teammate, their sister). To them, they had just experienced an irreplaceable loss, and, unknowingly, the execution of the cruelest trick alive.

-()-

He knows she's alive. But that doesn't mean she's safe.

He meant what he said to Dick earlier that night ("Are you kidding? It only gets more dangerous from here"), and he's terrified. What if she's discovered? What if the ruse doesn't work and he's sitting on his back porch playing with the dog while she's being thrown into a prison cell and tortured?

The thought that he shouldn't worry so much passes his mind. He knows she's capable (that she's perfectly able to take care of herself, that she's the best person for the job, that she's good enough not to get caught), but that doesn't mean he doesn't worry. He's perched on a rock outcropping over a lake somewhere in the Appalachians (he doesn't want to go home just yet, doesn't want to face the empty house with the friendly windows and the paint that she insisted on and the bed that smells like her), swinging his feet absentmindedly back and forth as he contemplates.

He's angry at Dick for dragging them back into this; after the Pits, they had retired and that was that. Artemis was still recovering from her rather traumatic resurrection and Wally was just relieved to see her each morning (alive, sweetly and blessedly alive), and neither was really in any shape mentally to keep the gig up. So they sat down one day and looked at their choices. Artemis had protested when he suggested Stanford, saying that there was no way they'd let her in. She had been pleasantly surprised when the acceptance letters had come…for both of them.

They packed up and had moved clear across the country to Palo Alto, got themselves a little one bedroom house in one of the University's housing districts (deciding immediately that if there was one thing they did not want to endure, it was dorm life), started school, made friends, and lived a semi-normal life for the next three years. Well, semi-normal was putting it mildly. Heroes popping in every other day for a chat or advice or just to see them, Dick showing up unexpectedly to surprise both of them with an impromptu movie night, Barry checking in on them both occasionally…even though they were officially retired, there was no way either of them could really leave the life behind (especially when Wally still had his speed-though only really using it for track-and Artemis still kept up her archery skills, though decidedly only using it for the school's archery team-of which she was the star).

Wally had really thought that the two of them would be able to keep it up. He should have known better, really. After all, how could a speedster and a professional-grade archer really stay away, especially when their friends were in trouble? Dick had approached them with the proposition shortly after Kaldur had 'left' (he and Artemis were immediately informed of this plan so that they wouldn't be too traumatized when they 'heard' the news) and both of them were pulled into one of the most complicated and underhanded plans Wally had ever taken part in.

At first, it was playing 'Mission Control'. Their house became the meeting place for the four of them (a place for planning, for revelations and trading information and, later on, a shared place of horror and comfort at the things Kaldur revealed). But then…then it became the place that the four of them began contemplating the inevitable; Kaldur's information was not enough. He could not handle it all on his own, despite his best efforts. He needed a partner, someone else on the inside, and Artemis had immediately volunteered. Both Dick and Wally had tried to talk her out of it, but she had refuted with several good reasons why she was the best person for the job (she came from a family of villains, she knew how villains worked, she knew how to manipulate people and situations far better than anyone save Dick, and the big one…she was the only one who could go in and not be recognized. There are only so many speedsters and world-class acrobats in the world, but archers are a dime a dozen; her other skills only made her more valuable).

Wally didn't like it (not one bit), but he couldn't tell her no (have you ever tried telling Artemis Crock 'no'? It doesn't work out so well). Preparations were started; Artemis made a call to her sister (who was confused, but complied) and a crossbow and collapsible sword showed up on their doorstep in the middle of the night. She and Dick worked out a suit design in their spare time (he had been slightly amused by Artemis wanting a cat-themed costume, but he had readily agreed), and Dick managed to wrangle a concealment charm from Zatanna. So Artemis became Tigress, an archer with a tragic past who had a vendetta against all heroes and had fought tooth and nail to get where she was.

Wally clenches his fists as he remembers the night before, their last night together before Cape Canaveral. He remembers how he pleaded with her (told her she could still back out), and when that didn't work, simply occupied himself with drinking every inch of her in (her bouncy blonde hair, her beautiful grey eyes, her slim hands decorated with countless calluses and scars; every inch of her body, all the perfection and the imperfections that went along with it, was committed to memory by his hands and his eyes and his whole being that night) and reminding himself how lucky he was to have Artemis Crock in his life. Their whispered adorations and fervent promises ring in his ears, and he has to fight back a tear or two as he remembers ("I love you so much Wally." "I'm scared, and I know you are too, but I have to do this." "We have tonight. Let us have tonight.") and instead occupies himself by glaring at the dark water beneath him.

Wally knows Artemis Crock (his friend, his lover, his everything) is alive, but he is absolutely terrified (for her, for himself, for his team-his family) that she won't make it out of this ridiculous scheme alive, and that he'll have to bury his spitfire (again)…for good.

He sighs and stands up, brushing the dirt off of his pants and readying himself to run. He momentarily considers running, just running (pushing himself to go just a little faster, faster), trying to outrun his problems (and likely getting nowhere, but he steers clear of that thought), running away from anything and everything that's on his mind. But he decides that it would be a fruitless endeavor, and instead sets his course to the house (not home, because it would never be home without Artemis there), where Nelson would be waiting (along with an empty house devoid of laughter that smells like her, but he doesn't want to think about that either).

And with one last lingering glimpse towards the pond, a dark streak zooms off into the night, leaving nothing but dust and the problems of a hero in its wake.

-()-

He knows she's alive. But that doesn't make him feel better.

She's right next to him, looking wan and scared in the half-light of the sub (her face is pale, her eyes are too bright, and her bow hand is faintly trembling). But he watches her straighten up and harden her face (like a true soldier) when he motions towards the seat next to him by the comm station.

He did this to her. He can only blame himself (and he does) for putting her in this situation. He couldn't get enough information, couldn't learn enough to put an end to the Light's plans once and for all. He failed, and so Dick brought in Artemis (their brave, valiant Artemis).

She is standing right next to him, but somehow they couldn't be farther apart if they were halfway across the world from each other (she in her orange and black-striped bodysuit with the mask that looks strange on her face and he in the black, cold suit of Manta-armor). He knows that to everyone else, she has black hair and cold eyes and hard cheekbones, the picture of a hard killer. To him, however, Artemis looks as she always does, her dark blonde hair cascading down her back and her flinty grey eyes narrowed in determination. Kaldur watches her steel herself as he flips on the monitor and reports to his father, informing him of his new partner.

Kaldur watches his father raise an eyebrow (for he has his mask off) but say nothing other than to comment vaguely about surrounding himself with dangerous people—to which Artemis-Tigress-responds by pledging everlasting loyalty. To see her like this, fighting to secure her position as a member of his entourage, is possibly the hardest thing he has ever had to do. Artemis is his teammate, one of his best friends. It goes against everything he has ever attempted to do to let her do this.

He is putting her in danger (inescapable, inexcusable danger) by allowing her to do this. It goes against everything he has ever learned about being a leader (and being a friend). He does not want her to die (seeing her fake death at Cape Canaveral was hard enough), and he does not want to lose another friend (he can't take another one, not after Jason, not after Tula). But he knows he has no choice. They need the information, and he can't get it. Artemis can get it.

So she is here, with him, instead of back at Stanford studying for her next test with Wally.

So she is here, in terrible danger, while Kaldur fakes loyalty and motivation working for his father.

So they wait in silence, waiting for the next mission to be announced, waiting for the next way they're going to have to sabotage and undermine their friends.

-()-

He doesn't know what to do. The girl he loves is hurting, one of his best friends is dead, and he doesn't know what to feel.

It feels eerily similar to the simulation so many years ago, he muses. Artemis gone, the rest of the team left behind to mourn and carry on. There's even an alien invasion.

Conner knows he should be feeling something (anything at all), but all he feels is numb. He's not sure if it's the shock or something else entirely, but he simply stands there, staring moodily down at the ground. He wants nothing more than to just take M'gann into his arms (she's crying. M'gann shouldn't be crying) but after all they've been through, he can't. So he stands, ignoring the urge to wander over and envelop her in his arms (like old times, when they were young and carefree and innocent).

His mind is detached, clinical in its observations. It's like his emotions have just shut down, leaving this numb, empty feeling behind. Things are registering, but in this disconnected, impassive way that he knows instinctively is bad but he can't help but be relieved (because he knows that if it were any different, he'd currently be throwing things in a blinding rage right now). Three things keep repeating in his mind (over and over and over). Artemis Crock is dead. Kaldur killed her. And M'gann is crying.

Logically, he knows he couldn't have done anything. He was on the other side of the bay when it happened. But logic doesn't apply when one of his best friends is lying on the ground with blood on her uniform and he can't hear her heartbeat. He remembers the growing feeling of horror within him as he watched Nightwing desperately perform CPR and he still couldn't hear her heartbeat (no reassuring thump, thump, thump to keep his own heart from breaking). It was then that he shut down, mechanically helping Nightwing and M'gann move Artemis's body while he dissociated himself. It was like watching his life through someone else's eyes, or through a television screen (watching but not feeling Artemis's cold cold so cold body cradled in his strong arms, M'gann's warm hand half on Artemis's arm, half on his, Nightwing slowly and solemnly leading the three of them-no, two and a body-to the zeta tube).

It's not until much later that he realizes that he has blood on his hands (literally). It should be horrifying (he has his friend's blood spread liberally over his hands, under his fingernails and on his shirt), but all he can think about is how Artemis was joking with him not even three hours ago about how often he ran through his shirts, and how he replied that she was perfectly welcome to make him a laser-proof, waterproof, and fireproof shirt if she wanted.

He never said blood-proof.

He's standing against a wall with Artemis's blood on his shirt and suddenly it's all he can do not to throw up. And still in the background is M'gann crying, crying, crying, and now he needs the comfort and the innocence and god, he needs the old M'gann (his M'gann, back before she was hard and manipulative and misguided), because he's not sure he can deal with this, and he wants the loving comfort of M'gann's arms around him. He's a living weapon, a being created to protect and destroy and take people down, and it still isn't enough to save the lives of the people he loves.

He feels the first trickles of emotions since he couldn't hear Artemis's heartbeat (horror, sorrow, and the rising anger and betrayal) but still he can't do anything but stand here against the dammed wall, hands clenched and face drawn and feeling the emotions he's kept at bay for the past few hours rise up and threaten to consume him.

He needs to get away. He needs to leave. And so he does, tearing out of the room and flying down the hallways to the training room, ignoring the questioning stares and pitying glances and definitely ignoring the hiccupping sob that he knew was M'gann. He retreats to the place he feels most comfortable releasing his emotions, a place where no one can get hurt besides himself and no one has to bear his anger and his despair and his echoing thought of why why why.

It is quite a while before he comes to himself (parts of punching bags and practice dummy heads litter the floor, and he's pretty sure he can see a hole or two in the wall), breathing hard with sweat plastering his hair to his forehead and the telltale taste of salt on his lips that tastes of grief and regret. He knows this isn't helping anyone (though he thinks as he viciously rips off another head and imagines it to be Kaldur's that it's sure as hell helping him), but what else is he supposed to do? His support line is gone, and he needs an outlet. This is certainly more productive for him than lashing out at his friends, he supposes. He thinks vaguely that he should stop, but he doesn't want to. It's cathartic, and he almost feels his turbulent emotions draining out of him with each punch. Maybe at some point, he'll be calm enough to return to the rec room, calm enough to bear the oppressing grief that encompassed the room and everyone in it, calm enough to bear the crying.

But for now, those three statements keep circling in his mind, torturing him with the truth. They repeat themselves endlessly as he continues punching, sounding in time with the slap of bare skin against a punching bag. Artemis Crock is dead. Kaldur killed her. And M'gann is crying.

-()-

She's in mourning. Her first friend. Really dead. No take backs this time. No simulation where they would all just wake up (alive and whole), no more miraculous resurrections. Gone.

Artemis was gone.

Her heart cries out in pain. How could it all have gone so wrong so quickly? It was just a simple mission (just like many others, she thinks bitterly). Dick had only brought Artemis in as backup because they needed an archer and Roy was…otherwise occupied. There wasn't supposed to be any serious danger. And even though there was, how could they expect Kaldur of all people to kill Artemis, her former teammate and friend? How could he kill her? How did their Kaldur (their pure, sweet, loyal Kal) become this…murderer (this cold, unfeeling, evil murderer)?

Her whole body feels numb as her mind cruelly replays what happened over and over again (swimming, feeling the shock and anger at losing L'gann, then the pain-filled mental gasp, and then the all-encompassing panic as she flew out of the water with a prayer on her lips only to see her friend, her sister, lying on that beach with blood on her chest). She can't get the image of Artemis lying there, eyes closed and blood staining her clothes, out of her mind.

Her whole heart is crying at the injustice. Hasn't the team lost enough? Hasn't she lost enough? M'gann doesn't know if she can bear installing a hologram in the grotto (if she can bear facing the fact that her earth-sister is well and truly dead), walking down for her weekly visit to Jason's and Tula's memorials only to face the strong form of Artemis Crock.

Back at the Cave, listening to Nightwing as he breaks the news to the rest of the Team, she cannot help but break down into tears. She has held herself together all night, deep in denial and numbness as she attempted to compartmentalize her emotions (like she actually thought she would be able to do it; she knows how dangerous her emotions are, dammit, but she has never been quite able to control them), and watching as all that work flies out the window the second that Zatanna lets loose that first soft cry that echoes through the cold, silent room.

All of the emotions that she has been holding back crash down on her all at once, leaving her drowning in a sea of anguish and grief as she collapses onto the couch. She does not try to hold them back; she knows that tears and grieving are perfectly logical responses to loss (she does not understand how Nightwing can sit there, solemn and straight-backed and solid like a rock when Artemis was one of his best friends too, almost as close as Wally).

Oh god…Wally. How were they going to tell him? How were any of them going to be able to look him in the eye after this? He and Artemis had given up being heroes just for this reason, so that neither of them would get hurt anymore. And yet, here everyone was, mourning the loss of the same hero who had retired not even a year ago because of the fear of what would happen if she stayed. Killed because of a traitor of a 'friend' who obviously didn't spare even a thought that he was killing his former friend, the girl that he had laughed, trained, and joked with for almost five years.

She makes up her mind, as she sits in the Cave with Gar's arms around her (holding her, comforting her), that Kaldur will pay. She couldn't save Artemis, but she can damn well avenge her. She can get justice for the death of her best friend; she can get revenge on the former friend that murdered her sister.

She will avenge Artemis, and Kaldur will pay for what he has done.

This she swears.

-()-

She knows that she's alive. Obviously. But that only makes it harder when she thinks of her friends, her family (of how she's hurting them, of how this awful, cruel trick will probably break their friendship forever).

She's standing straight, rigid and taut like a bow about to be fired, her orange and black bodysuit encasing her lithe body (surrounding her, locking her into a new personality that is not her but is uncomfortably close to the person she would have been in another life). She is straight-backed and silent; Tigress does not need to talk much, after all. Artemis will have to curb her constant diatribe of sarcastic comments and sharp wit (Tigress can be witty, but not too much…she needs distance if this is going to work).

Her mind is whirling; it is all she can do not to turn around and run straight out the door of the sub. She knows Kaldur wouldn't blame her a bit, and neither would Wally or Dick (Dick might be mad for a little while, but he would understand…he always did). She takes comfort in the strong, reassuring form of Kaldur walking right beside her (even though the manta-armor is still more than a little off-putting), and steels herself for what is about to come. He shoots her a concerned look, but she simply shakes her head. She is walking right into the den of lions of her own volition; she needs him to look just as comfortable as she does (otherwise the fear she is barely keeping at bay is going to shoot through the roof).

She notices the odd looks people give them as they walk, the son of their leader and the mysterious girl clothed in orange and black striding purposefully down the hallway, but she ignores them as she and Kaldur make their way to the bridge (they will know soon enough). She gazes intently ahead as she focuses intently on not looking absolutely terrified and maintaining that cool, emotionless face her father had beat into her as a child. I can do this, she thinks, and she tries to believe it.

She takes a deep breath as they enter the bridge. Show time.

Kaldur's father is on the screen…without his mask on. She tries to cover her surprise as she looks into the face of the man known as Black Manta (the man that she knows-through her father-is indirectly responsible for Tula's death, though she dare not mention it to Kal). He is…softer than she imagined. He has the face of a warrior (of a man burdened by hardship and bitterness), of that there is no doubt, but there is a softness there, a vulnerability. She realizes that it is his eyes that betray him; they lie on his son and are filled with pride. Without the mask, Black Manta becomes human (becomes a father, mentor, leader, and comrade).

She swallows. This is going to be harder than she thought.