Standard Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this story; those are reserved for Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti. I am only playing around in their universe.

A/N: I shouldn't be doing this. Erm, my hand slipped? Story cover credit goes to zoetekohana on Tumblr.

Edit on 8.21.2012: Switched to past tense.

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THE RABBIT CATCHER AND THE BIRD

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ONE

It begins with four words

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August 9, 2010

The supercomputer's screen cast pale blue shadows over Robin's face. His curiosity flared with each new image: grinning, Cheshire-cat masks, sais, the League of Shadows and in capital letters, ACTIVE; Sportsmaster's thick-jowled face, straw-colored hair, a cruel body that was more muscle than man, paternal contempt evident in the man's eyes, ACTIVE as well; and finally, a woman with striped cheekbones, once lithe and strong, now RETIRED and wheel-chair bound.

Robin leaned back against the chair, letting out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He closed his eyes and remembered the arrow that had saved Wally from being crushed in Amazo's hand, the souvenir now propped on a stand in the speedster's room. He had made an understandable mistake in assuming Green Arrow but he should've checked just in case, because Artemis's arrowhead - -

("You were following us. Babysitting," he accused. "You still don't trust us."

Batman, Bruce Wayne, guardian, or was it father, the costumes changed so quickly Dick had trouble following, said simply, "We didn't follow you."

Green Arrow took an arrow from his quiver and held the two up for Robin's inspection: the one was diamond-shaped with a smooth-edged arrowhead, while the other)

- - had two serrated edges, designed to sink into prey so it would bleed to death, and tear at flesh if pulled out. Definitely not Green Arrow's or Speedy-Red Arrow's. He should've known the difference: not a crime-fighter's but a hunter's arrow.

Which begged the question: why did Batman allow her on the Team? Perhaps he aimed to utilize her connections to the League of Shadows; or perhaps he aimed to save her from the villain path… but a girl with trailing shadows was up for suspicion. Robin looked at the picture of Artemis Crock on the screen and it was as if her eyes challenged him, there and then, who are you to judge me?

"I'm not," he said, voice bouncing off the cave walls. He would be the last person to do such a thing.

He wondered how she felt when she had learned that her father was a villain, how she had dealt with the days alone with her mother locked in a cell, how she had felt when her sister walked out, how she had felt when her mother finally returned home, an invalid and in need of a thirteen-year-old-girl's care - -

Robin closed her files.

He has done this a thousand times, pulling histories by curiosity's whim, browsing through pages and pages of lives, but it was the first time he felt like a voyeur. He shouldn't be doing this, not without her permission - -

(Batman does it all the time, he reasoned, and then, immediately following, was another voice, his own voice, But you're not Batman.)

The clock struck midnight; time to go and Robin left the Cave after wiping evidence of his ever being there. He has learned from the best, after all.

Dick pulled the covers over himself and slept. Two months from now would be the first day of his ninth grade career at Gotham Academy. It would also be Artemis's first day, too, if she accepted Bruce Wayne's offer.

He dreamed of swinging lockers, streams of algorithms, and somewhere in there, a girl fighting her genetics.

He woke up the next morning unable to recall who had won.

. . .

September 22, 2010

The six AM alarm whisked Artemis away but when she woke up she was staring at Jade's poster and she was back in Wonderland. It was a slow burn, this routine: wake up, poster, torture herself with memories. She has come to associate Jade's abandonment with mornings when it really happened at nighttime, under the cover of darkness and the sliver of crescent moonlight.

"Artemis, get up!" her mother called from the door. "I don't want you late for your first day of school."

She wheeled away, the creaks and creaks of her wheelchair trailing behind like a tattered cape of sound.

Artemis mentally noted to check the tire pressure and tighten the bolts as she groaned and cocooned herself back under the purple bedcovers.

. . .

Tugging the hem of her mandatory Gotham Academy skirt would never make it longer, but Artemis was stubborn if nothing else. She had to keep herself busy somehow; the starched white collar felt stiff against her neck and she had already loosened the wine-colored tie. Even her hair felt like it had been tied too tightly. The Academy insignia at the left breast of the jacket made her feel branded, owned, stop it right now.

She reminded herself of the desperate hope with which her mother had said, "A chance I never had," and it momentarily halted her finicky fingers.

"Artemis?"

A girl approached, smiling in greeting. "I'm Bette, your student liaison. Welcome to Gotham Academy."

"Thanks, um, I'm Artemis," she said. There were no student liaisons at Gotham North. "But you… knew that."

She was saved from embarrassment when a hand lighted upon her shoulder. Pale face, slick dark hair, shining blue eyes and a familiar-unfamiliar voice poked her memory:

"We'll laugh about this someday," and he sounded so self-assured that her first instinct was to believe him.

There was a flash of light and a click of success that informed her that her slack-jawed expression was now permanently resting in some twerp's memory card. She blinked stars away, turned, but he was gone. She would think he didn't exist if not for the still-warm part of her shoulder where he had held her.

"Who's that?"

"A freshman," Bette supplied. Something in her tone spoke of previous history, like she has said that so many times that it has lost its novelty. "Ignore him," was her suggestion, and Artemis took it.

Under the arches a few feet away, Barbara Gordon watched them walk to class. Suspicion was conveyed through the crossing of her arms. "Dick? What was that about?" In the years that she'd known him, she'd never see him so forward with a stranger.

"Nothing, Barbara," he assured. "Just being friendly with the new girl."

He waited until Barbara rolled her eyes and started for class. Only then did he pull out his cell phone and smile, thinking that Gotham Academy just got a little more interesting.

. . .

At last, she'd shed her school uniform in favor of what she privately called her 'save the world' outfit. The snug boots, protective knee pads and spandex tight across her back secured her rising anticipation; she wondered what adventures the night held.

"Artemis?" the phone booth said. She nearly shrieked but managed to turn it into a gasp, preserving her dignity when Robin stepped out of the shadows (darn Gotham and its many, many shadows). For the second time today two shorties have caught her off guard. Either she was getting lazy or she had a predilection for them.

"How random that you're in Gotham City, instead of Star City, where your uncle Green Arrow lives." His grin was the icing on the cake, deliberately knowing and unknowing, an 'I really don't know why but I'm pretending to know to fluster you' grin. Or maybe she was reading into it too much when she should be thinking of a response.

"I'm, ah, here to see my cousin! She was in the state spelling bee." She congratulated herself; an excuse, however paper-thin, was better than none. "Here. In Gotham," she added. "City."

She wanted to smack herself.

His grin widened and he spelled, "C-O-O-L. Did she W-I-N?"

She wanted to smack him. Artemis narrowed her eyes. "N-O."

"D-R-A-G." He lifted a brow in condolence.

"Yeah, let's just go to the Cave." She jerked a thumb at the OUT OF ORDER sign.

Robin leaned forward in a half-bow, arms lifted in deference. "Ladies first."

"Your town. You go," she said, hands placed at the hips in a non-negotiable stance.

Robin shrugged, if you insist, and stepped into the phone booth. The computerized voice chimed, "Recognized: Robin B-Zero-One" and he was consumed by light. She followed shortly after, expecting the faces of her new teammates - -

Artemis dove away from a ball of fire so hot she felt her skin was scalding even when she had dodged. Her heart kicked into overdrive as adrenaline shot through her body and to her fingertips, there was thick smoke rolling all around, where was Robin? - -

"Get down!"

He landed beside her and flung batarangs into the mass of smoke, hitting metal, judging by the sound.

"Who are we fighting?" Artemis shouted over the din of fire.

"Don't know, but we're sitting ducks by these tubes." He broke off into a dash. "Head for the exit - - "

Walls of water raced at them from the end.

" - - Or not," Robin finished.

. . .

No response from the Team via comlink or telepathy. Artemis's heartbeat rose in tandem with her panic as they sprinted into the Cave living room.

"We need to get lost," Robin said.

Could they be… no, no, no…

Her father's voice sliced through her fear, drowned it out with his rough, overwhelming persona, "Never allow yourself to be trapped. Become familiar with the usual exits: windows, air vents, thin foundations, thin walls, water ways - - "

"The air vent!" She darted forward, not needing to be told twice by Robin's "Good, go!"

. . .

They dropped onto the metal walkway of the basement. Robin glanced at his glove computer every few seconds to ascertain their location.

"This way," he said, but the one guiding Artemis was her father.

"Your greatest foe isn't your enemy, but your fear. It's only one tool in your arsenal so keep it clamped down and out of the way."

They ran around the large iron machines, the steam spat from overheating pipes, and the fire balls threatening to scorch them alive. Ducking behind a generator, Robin paused to consult the downloaded Cave blueprints, muttering, "I know that access tunnel is here somewhere…"

"You have a good pair of eyes on you. Don't neglect what may be right in front of you."

"You mean this one?" Artemis said, jumping down, triumphant at having found it, feeling like Alice chasing the White Rabbit until she landed on reality and beggan to crawl through the tunnel.

. . .

"There's a secret passage behind one of these bookcases," Robin explained.

"Seriously?" Artemis said, her sarcasm wiggling through her father's mask. "Cliché much?"

"You should see the Bat Cave," he said.

His grin vanished at the sound of metal on metal. They pressed against an aisle of bookshelves, batarangs and arrows at the ready.

The footfalls grew louder.

"Artemis," called a robotic voice, comforting in its lack of emotion. "Robin."

Her father's words dissipated like vapors and her anxiety twisted away, replaced by a flood of relief. "It's Red Tornado!" she said, rushing out, smiling, thanking - -

- - eyes widening at the Not-Red-Tornado's hand reaching for her - -

- - the wind was knocked out of her lungs as Robin barreled them away, shouting, "Yes on the Red, no on the Tornado!"

The Red Tornado lookalike had failed to grab her but it hadn't failed to take her bit of hope.

. . .

"Did you know that Red Tornado had - - siblings?" Artemis asked between heaving breaths, not even caring about the shrill quality her voice took when she was stretched to the point of snapping.

"No," Robin said, footsteps beating a steady rhythm in the corridor.

Something in his calm answer caused her to grip his wrist just as he was about to turn left. He looked at her.

"So now what?"

He wasn't glaring at her for stopping him when they should be running for their lives so she licked her lips and continued, clutching at scraps of fleeting logic. "Red Tornado is one of the powerhouses of the League. How are we supposed to take out two of him?"

"They do seem pretty user unfriendly," he said, the white of one eye mask enlarging, indicating a raised eyebrow.

"Don't joke," she bit out, angry at his easy response, angry at herself for needing his composure in the first place. "They - - "

"Attention, Robin. Attention, Artemis. You have exactly ten minutes to surrender. Or the lives of your teammates will be extinguished."

They exchanged tense looks.

. . .

"We can access the hangar from here," Robin said as they ran through the halls.

The foreboding roar made them turn; at the sight of the incoming deluge, they ground to a halt.

"Or not," he amended.

"Will you please stop saying that?" Artemis shouted before they were swallowed by the wave, tumbling like debris in the ocean.

The cold water almost shocked her into opening her mouth and releasing precious oxygen. Artemis shut her eyes and reopened them when she felt a warm hand grip her, tugging her forward, the start of an awkward embrace if they had been on land. The rebreather pressed to her mouth tasted like air surrounding lofty mountaintops, or watermelons, or summer, whatever that tasted like; later, when she was lying in bed, awestruck at her own breathing, she would remember this as the taste of Robin, unsure whether it had been real or her own imagined interpretation of him: soaring high and free, grinning from ear to ear.

Then red, metal fingers closed around her ankle, pulling her back. She opened her mouth in a watery scream, rebreather lost. The heavy veil of her father slipped over her and Artemis gritted her teeth and mashed fists on her captor's plated head to break free.

Robin stabbed it in the eye with her arrow and the fake Red Tornado released her. Robin scooped her up with an arm and grappled to the surface.

. . .

They were cornered on both sides of the stairs, the futile attempts at distraction of Kid Flash and Superboy echoing behind them. Artemis notched her bow, aimed at the female Red Tornado.

"I'm almost out of arrows," she said.

"Distract her, now!"

His words galvanized her into action. Artemis shot an exploding arrow while Robin flung batarangs as if they've rehearsed it. It was natural, this dual partnership they were forced to commit to for their survival, like they were two puzzle pieces who've just found each other and were locking into place. They dove off the stairs and seamlessly slipped into the water, a pair of seals.

. . .

They dragged themselves up the ladder and into the pipe tunnel, gulping air like they've never tasted anything so wonderful before. There were echoes, the quiet drip of water from their clothes, their heaving shoulders, the thumpthumpthump of their hearts thrashing against ribcage.

Immediately and on instinct, Robin began lowering his heart rate. Draw deep from the stomach, hold for three seconds, and exhale through the nose. Dispel negative emotions and find the center…

Both heads lifted at the toneless countdown: "Six minutes."

"What do we do now?" Artemis asked. Her calm had long slipped from her fingers; she looked to him now, scrabbling to catch even a bit of his natural composure.

Robin furrowed his brows. "We save them. That's how it works."

His answer didn't reassure her in the least for she said, panic-stricken, "Maybe that's how it's supposed to work, but those robots already took out our four, super-powered friends!"

Ah, he thought as he noted the ember still burning - - though dimly - - in Artemis's eyes.

"You seem distraught," he observed, a statement that pushed her over the edge with its matter-of-fact delivery.

"Distraught?" she cried, eyes widening and mouth agape. "M'gann is dying! We have no powers and I'm down to my last arrow." She pulled it out. "Of course I'm distraught!"

"Well, get traught - - " Robin said. "Or get dead."

The hand that gripped the arrow faltered at the ferocity of his order. "How can you be so calm?"

The strange mix of bewilderment and unadulterated need caused him to pause. He thought back to her file, of the 'tests' she was subjected to by her father, and again wondered how she coped with it all if she couldn't keep calm under pressure and he answered his own question, Maybe her tests never required her to carry the fate of lives, maybe her tests only required her to take them. She had been trained by Sportsmaster from a young age, though not quite as long as Robin was, and he had been privately gauging her capabilities, distinguishing their similarities and dissimilarities ever since opening her file…

He withdrew from his mind. She was peering at him, face open like a fresh page, waiting to be written.

"Practice," Robin said, starting to crawl through the pipe. "Been doing this since I was nine."

The muted sound of hands and knees on metal followed.

"What good is that now? What chance do we have against unrelenting machines?"

Robin stopped and replayed.

"Oh, duh! They're machines. And one electromagnetic pulse will shut down any machine within range," he explained, mind quickly working through the logistics. He saw her grabbing onto his words, letting her regain solid ground and muster hope.

"Great," she enthused. Then the smile dropped as she pinned him with a pointed look. "Except you'd better have an EMP emitter in your utility belt because I know I don't have one in my quiver."

He smiled at the return of her spirit and at the fact that she knew what an EMP emitter was.

"I'm fresh out," he said, and she didn't glare at him this time.

He pressed two fingers to his earpiece. "But I'm betting we can make one. What do you say, KF? Doable?"

"Totally doable," Kid Flash affirmed.

. . .

"Robin, watch out!"

Her warning was too late, her last arrow was too late.

She clambered back into the pipes, flames, shame and despair licking at her feet. She peered through the cracked opening and was chilled to her core at the sight of Robin encased in the pillar of water.

"No," she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest.

She had wanted to do so much with her teammates but it was over before it even began. She had failed and their deaths would hang on her - -

(Beneath the prickly resentment, fear and disgust, she had regarded her father with a kind of awe because she had wondered how he could stand so tall and straight despite the weight of countless deaths. Was it because of those stolen lives that he could stand so proudly, or did they even matter? In her heart of hearts she knew she didn't have it in her to be like him.)

- - "No, no, no," she repeated, warding everything like she was chasing away nightmares. It hadn't worked when her mother was arrested, it hadn't worked when her father came, it hadn't worked when her sister left, and it wasn't working now.

. . .

"If I surrender, I die with the others," Artemis said, testing out the options in a soft voice lest they become real.

She began to crawl.

"But if I find a way out… out of the Cave, out of the mountain, I can get help. Call in the League."

She misplaced a hand and slipped forward, screaming. Gravity and fate saw through her laughable attempts at reassurance and deposited her in front of the souvenir shelves.

Her shoulder smarted from the landing, but more than that, her sense of self-worth and pride were bruised. She was a child again, sitting in a bedroom full of memories of desertion and loathing.

"Who am I kidding?" Artemis said to the walls.

Her bare and naked vulnerabilities were displayed for all but no one was there to see. The 'I' slipped off her tongue as easily as the lies she told everyone but most of all, she had lied to herself and the truth was this: she wanted so much to be a hero that she playacted the part, had pulled on the mask and worn it for so long that she forgot it wasn't her face. She believed it could bring out the hero in her but how could it bring out someone she never was?

"Best I can do is hide. Hope the League finds me before the Reds," she said to the air, to herself. She walked up to the shelves until she was eye level with the Cheshire mask of her sister.

"I know you understand."

("Dad will come after you," Artemis said, clutching her teddy bear. She didn't have the finesse to deliver a threat.

"Let him. I'll disappear like the Cheshire Cat." Jade shouldered her bag and strode out of her life with one pearl of advice: "In this family, it's every girl for herself.")

Doors slammed and her father's instructions rang in her ears but one voice, boyish and almost always flirting with levity, cleaved through the fog of her doubts.

Well, get traught or get dead.

She lifted the Cheshire mask from its stand.

"That might've been true about our family," Artemis said and it didn't pain her to admit it. "But I've found a new family and here, we're all for one and - -"

"One minute."

The sight of her first arrow shot for the team shifted something in her. She gripped the shaft and slid it into her quiver.

Artemis had saved a life with that arrow and she would do it again.

. . .

"I surrender. Stop the clock."

Only seconds after she had uttered the words and she was soaring in the air in a somersault that pulled her muscles and electrified her to the core. Artemis poured her will into the arrow and let it fly.

The world tipped, turned, exploded—

—she was Artemis, named after the Goddess of the Hunt—

—and blue currents cascaded outward, making her skin tingle with more than elation as the Reds dropped like puppets whose strings have been cut.

She had won.

She was the last one standing.

Her celebration was tempered by realization.

Artemis scrambled to the fallen Boy Wonder, bow clattering to the ground in her haste.

He wasn't moving.

You said get traught or get dead; I got traught so please, you can't…

Her hands hovered to him, lay carefully over his chest and his forehead. It wasn't a conscious action, this touching, and beneath the wet suit and the plastered hair he felt cool. She missed his warm hand that had pressed the rebreather to her lips, his unbreakable confidence that everything will turn out well like it was a fact and it was written in the stars and there was no other way events could transpire. She imagined she would never hear his joking, facetious observations or his creative lexemes and she faltered, forgot how to breathe—

Robin coughed once, twice, a feeble sound that nonetheless brought her relief and air.

"He - - he's breathing, too," she said, astonished, loudly to the others but mainly to herself, that it was a reality that Robin was alive.

He turned his head to grin at her and said, "Way to get traught," like he'd always known she'd pull through in the end and he'd been waiting, that little troll.

But she would forgive him for that because those four words saved her more than once today and they worked like magic now, loosening the knot of anxiety and allowing her to collapse back, jelly-limbed, heart-trembling and sighing, wanting to laugh and cry because she and he and she and he were alive.