So this marks the beginning of my updating spree…hopefully. It looks like this week will be hectic one for me five assignments due every week till Christmas but if I can't find the time to write then I'll probably loose my mind. Anyways I'll try and update once a day in this count down to young justice on Saturday.

A/N: This is set between episode 23 and episode 25 when Artemis's secret is revealed to the team. This is my own interpretation of what occurred during that period.

Young Justice is almost back!

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or its characters.

Blood Ties

Artemis isn't fully aware of what's happened till she wakes up disoriented head pounding lying in a pool of her own blood, her mother's frantic cries fill her head as the older woman desperately bangs her fists against the door,

"Artemis! Artemis! ARTEMIS!" The archer grimaces as her tongue is suddenly flooded with the taste of metal and she spits into the pool around her dragging her body upwards. Standing is hard. She's groggy and in pain. Thankfully he hasn't broken anything (aside from her spirit) but she's pretty sure he's delivered a pretty nasty blow to her shooting arm if the fact that an agonized cry rips from her lips when she just tries to move her fingers is any indication.

"ARTEMIS! Are you in there?" She can't form words but she staggers to the door. Her hand slips off the doorknob; it's slick with blood. She wipes it on her uniform – that's ironic she thinks wearily verbally assaulted as a hero then physically assaulted the mantle shredded from her by her own father. Her hand falls a second time unable to grip the knob between the numbness of her fingers. Damn it. She reaches again, gritting her teeth at the pain cascading through her nervous system as she firmly grips the knob to inch the door open.

She thought she had it bad but only one word manages to escape her bleeding, broken lips as she looks around the apartment and her mother thrown on the floor, "Oh."

Her mother is crying. Paula Crock is whimpering on the wooden boards her chair broken; off to the side. Artemis winces, it's going to cost a fortune to replace. To put it politely the apartment is in shambles. Furniture overthrown and broken, pictures ripped off walls, and the TV has been thrown partially out the window – defying gravity because it's still freaking plugged into the wall. Her mother, however, hasn't been touched not a single bruise adorns her body as Artemis stares down at Huntress's curled form beside her feet.

"Thank God you're ok! Thank God! When he wouldn't hit me I knew...I knew he'd already delivered that portion of my punishment." Artemis wants to say it's own her fault Sportsmaster had done this. Her fault he'd destroyed their home. She wants to say it but she can't. She didn't do anything wrong. She didn't. She chose justice and got thrown and hit and beaten for it. Artemis begins to bend down to pick her mother up, despite the protesting of her body, but a single sharp rap on the door freezes her. She stares at it not moving hoping the person will just go away until the sound comes again only its three quick knocks in succession. She looks down at her mother who is so distressed the sound doesn't even register with her. Her mother is startled when it turns to full out banging on the door and a raspy shout of,

"Artemis!" Hisses through the wood. She has no idea what to do with the knowledge that Wally fucking West (the person who had just chewed her out over three hours ago) is now furiously trying to force his way into her apartment. It vaguely registers that she has no idea how he even got her address.

"Artemis if you don't answer I'm breaking the door down!" She's snapped out her stunned stupor by the thud of his shoulder hitting the wood and she realizes she really doesn't want to pay a carpenter too so she hastens across the floor and yanks the door open completely ignoring the fact that she's bleeding and every movement sends spasms of pain throughout her body,

"What!" His face morphs from agitation to horror as he stares at her his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Artemis!"

"God Kid Idiot if I knew you only had a one word vocabulary I wouldn't have opened the door," she attempted to shut it, "Nice of you to drop by this has been a stimulating conversation. Let's wait a good long time before we have another." She feels sick when she realizes this is probably the first honest conversation she's had with him, and they've barely said anything. But the door never shuts him out as he rushes past her into the apartment taking in the chaos, his eyes swiveling towards her in bated anticipation for an explanation.

"What?" she snaps, "This is Gotham. We got robbed now scram." He looks at her as if she's crazy before saying,

"You expect me to believe that? You're a hero. What fool hardly low brow crook could beat you." She grimaces as she looks at him. There really is no logical way to explain her appearance or her apartment or any of it - so she changes the topic.

"How the hell did you find me?"

"Please Robin isn't the only one who can hack a computer," he grumbles, "I wasn't even going to come up here till I saw the apartment with a flipping TV hanging out the window. I thought someone worth rescuing was in trouble." He sneers at her. Clearly hoping for retaliation but she's been trained to recognize liars – and he's lying. His eyes shift and he's biting his lip. It's true he may not have come here to apologize (maybe even to rub it in her face some more that Red Arrow is like ten times better than her) but one thing is certain he most definitely was worried when he'd seen the telltale signs of a trashed apartment which he knew belonged to his sort-of friend.

"I thought I was selfish and insecure and not worth your time. So I'll ask it again what the hell is the real reason you're here?"

"I realized I wasn't being fair. Everyone makes mistakes." She sends him a disbelieving, skeptical look.

"So Aqualad threaten to take away your food privileges or have you just lost your mind?"

"Fifty-fifty."

"Figures. Look I've got a massive mess to clean up so go away." He looks like he's about to retort when his eyes settle on her quivering mother, who appears to be trying to blend with the wall as she pushes against it. She doesn't even have time to blink before Wally is beside Paula attempting to help her stand.

"Stop it Wally," he sends her a look of shock. Her mother can't seem to form words as she stares dumbly at the boy hoisting her from the floor so there is no way he could know. "She's a paraplegic." Wally freezes before he blows a stream of air between his lips; clearly what was going to be a well executed retort that she was a cold unfeeling bitch who wouldn't help an injured woman from the floor had just been deflated.

"Ah...right...ok?" he spins around a couple times until he sees the broken chair and his face darkens, "What kind of sick fuck –" She hisses at him and he flounders then continues, "–Sick jerk would attack a beautiful lady in a wheelchair." She isn't sure if he says it for her benefit or for her mother's but Paula visibly relaxes in his arms her strength returning as she directs him towards her bedroom sending Artemis a wavering look of reassurance. She'll have to settle with that. Artemis retrieves a mop and broom, bleach, and boils water – it's going to have to be hot if she's ever going to remove the stains. He reenters the room being careful not to step on anything but not looking at her either.

"Happy?" she questions bitterly, "If you're done playing hero go home Flash Boy." She doesn't realize her fingers are trembling until he takes the broom from her and moves across the room to begin sweeping up broken glass and splintered wood. He stares at the TV hanging precariously out the window the straining cord the only reminder it had once sat in the room,

"What do you want to do about that?" he asks her quietly still sweeping. She opens her mouth to respond but a deafening creak and loud bang are the only remnants of her sentence as the TV smashes to the ground below. She doesn't flinch but she bites her lip and Wally looks at her eyes probing.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No."

"Fine," he bites back sweeping more vigorously, "Fine." The kettle whistles behind her and she picks it up gingerly along with the bleach and heads towards her room. Kid Flash follows. She's pretty sure if this was any other situation he'd make some wise crack about being in a girl's bedroom but he says nothing and she can't decide if that's good or bad.

When she opens her door she hears a sharp intake of breath behind her and if she wasn't in his company she might too have gasped at the amount of blood on her floor. But she's not a child. This was her father being generous. She gets down on her knees scrubbing and he turns away ashen faced appearing to look for something to do or anything to focus on so he doesn't have to look at her cleaning up her own blood. His eyes find the bloody doorknob and he swallows before picking up a rag from the floor and cleaning it off.

"We all make mistakes. They told me I wasn't being fair," he begins, "But you said you weren't going to try and prove anything." She sighs scrubbing harder – it's dried. "I mean despite being perfect I've made mistakes too. Remember the mission on my birthday...I almost killed the Queen because I had to boost my ego by fighting Vandal Savage. I almost killed a ten year old girl so..." She knows he leaves the pause so she can supply some sort of witty comment or perhaps finally open up to him but she isn't going to do it. He should know that by now.

"Artemis," he turns towards her serious, "You have to tell me; have to tell the team. This isn't something you can just sweep under the rug."

"Well, once this carpet is clean I won't have a reason to sweep anything under it." Searing pain shoots up her arms as her wrist hits the floor at an uncomfortable angle she stifles a scream as she crumples down her head pressing into her knees. "Son of a bitch." Once she's blinked away the tears she looks back at him and the same expression of puppy dog concern that he wore earlier when Cheshire had thrown her onto the ground is plastered on his face.

"You should really get treated," he states bluntly, "You look terrible."

"Feel terrible too," she responds sincerely because maybe her crusade was a little unfair after he went and said all those things about acceptance to her. His eyes widen slightly because he realizes this is as close to an apology he's going to get from the archer. He sighs walking over to her as she begins to furiously scrub at the mat again.

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Not your problem."

"I'm making it my problem or I could phone M'gann right now and tell her that you've been mortally wounded. We all love seeing our favorite Martian in hysterics." She narrows her eyes trying to call his bluff he appears earnest enough to do it and his eyes are trailing over the superficial wounds on her body.

"Under the kitchen sink," she whispers, "So my mom can get at it." He nods before taking off returning seconds later carrying the battered looking box.

"Stop," he commands gesturing towards a bed, "Let's patch you up." She doesn't listen until he grabs her elbow forcefully and drags her to bed pushing down on her shoulders till she sits.

"I don't want your help."

"But you need it," he ripostes clucking silently as he takes in her wounds. It's a slow process – excruciating too but she won't tell him that as he clumsily douses her wounds with too much isopropyl alcohol. He wraps the wounds placing the final bandages, nodding as if commending his work before he does something so completely out of character she can't even bother to try and understand his reasoning. He leans down and kisses the inside of her wrist. It's soft and silly and his lips press against her pulse point before he moves away, ears red, packing up the box. His voice cracks when he manages to get his tongue to operate again,

"There was that so hard."

"I'm pretty sure kisses are not considered part of medical treatment."

"I improvised," he responds impishly but his voice quickly turns cold, "Now are you finally going to tell me why you tried to pull a Batman tonight?"

"A Batman?" she smirks.

"You know loner slinking off into the shadows to fight crime without any care for pain or teamwork."

"I don't need to justify myself to you. I did it for a good reason." He frowns but says nothing more until he's back from returning the first aid kit and is awkwardly standing in her room unsure of what to do next.

"You should go."

"Yeah."

"Now."

"I know."

"Then go while you still have this whole tracker fiasco to be angry about. I'm sure you'd hate to loose your ability to hold another thing over me." She sees the muscles in his jaws clench pretty sure she's hit a nerve.

"Who did this?" his fists clench and he looks at his feet because otherwise he'll have to look at the half cleaned blood, "Tell me. Prove to me you're someone worth trusting."

"I can't."

"EINSTEIN!" he yells throwing his arms up in the air, "You're running out of chances Artemis! Just tell the fucking truth for once in her life!" She considers it. For a fifth of a second she honestly contemplates telling Kid Flash her lineage in the middle of her bloody room but then she remembers who she's talking to and even if it meant him being angry with her for the rest of her existence (which seems very short now that her father's decided to retaliate) she'd rather he hate her then have to deal with being rejected by him and possibly by the rest of team. She belongs on the team and she won't give that up.

"No." His arms lower a glare blooming on his face but for some insane reason a few moments later it morphs into a cheeky grin.

"Oh you'll tell me alright," he ekes out, "I'll make sure of that." With that he is gone. Just a rustling curtain indicates his departure – that and the slamming door.

Review share your thoughts and feelings, criticisms and critiques.