There's no Cave to go back to, and that hurts.

It's a minor pain, like when you bump you elbow at just the right spot in the middle of a party: a shock at first, a tingling sensation afterward, forgotten a couple of minutes later.

Dick is not around, and neither is Kaldur – they're too busy being the leaders they've always been – so the attention is all on Artemis, who decides that, if her fifteen-year-old self detested this kind of situation, she can actually enjoy it.

There will be time for judging, for complaining about lack of trust, for calculating the damage done. But now, there's only hugging, and tapping on each other's backs, and reliving the last day. It's not debriefing, it's not organized, it's just the incoherent rambling of "did you see when...?" and "I really thought that..." that comes after a tough mission – and this was definitely one of those.

And Gar still is holding tight to her midsection, chatting with everyone as if he's as comfortable as possible, and it takes some convincing from M'gann that Artemis is not going into another undercover mission until he lets go and she can catch a deep breath. Her neck seems lighter now, freer somehow, and it's good to know that the eyes that see her really do see her. And it's good to know that when M'gann comes to hug her, they're putting so much behind them, it's almost like being five years back, and having her cooking them cookies for long study sessions. She can almost feel the cinnamon taste in her mouth.

What she can feel is the reassuring presence of Wally by her side, always by her side, the warmth he radiates almost lulling her into sleep. She'll be doing a lot of sleeping for the next weeks, after making sure her mother has dumped all she deserves to hear, after the crying and the adjusting and the calming down has been done.

"Can we go somewhere quieter?" he asks and she nods. And they make some poor excuse and there's sympathetic smiling and someone actually whistles while they make their way through their friends and into the zeta-beam.

And then they're home.

Artemis doesn't dare call it that. Just in a tiny corner of her mind she kept the image of the Palo Alto apartment and everything it had represented until the day she died. But she knows she's home, because the front door opening sounds like home, and the living room smells like home, and being in Wally's arms feels like home.

He says he's let Nelson with his parents before joining the team, and she nods. And before she knows it, she's half laughing and half crying into his yellow suit, and she can't let go.

"It's alright..." he says, brushing her hair with his still gloved hand. "It's alright now..."

She believes it, but only because she believes in him. So she kisses him.

It feels strange. Like an old memory. It's only been a few months, yet she feels like she's being kissed by him for the first time, and she knows it shows, because his kiss is gentle, and he's taking his time, letting her set the rhythm. And she's not sure what to do with herself. She thought she wouldn't be able to control herself, but now her heart is beating fast in her eardrums, her hands are shaking and her lips are dry.

Wally breaks their kiss, resting his forehead against hers, and puts his hand on her chest, right at the spot her heartbeat seems about to burst her ribcage.

"Why are you nervous?" he asks, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm not..." she murmurs and she's a bad liar. "I just...didn't actually think you would take me back."

And the half smile turns into the heart-melting one he keeps only for her and her heart does just that.

"How could I not?" His hands are holding her face now, warm despite the gloves. "You're my little spitfire and I'm morally obligated to not let you get away."

She kisses him again, a slight brush of lips at first, then her right hand is holding at the back of his neck while the left one rests at his shoulder, and he holds her by her waist, lips moving ever so slowly.

"But we have a lot to talk about," he says.

"I know."

And their lips meet again. This time, she allows herself to part hers, and Wally allows himself to explore her mouth timidly. She's still trembling and she notices, not without some sense of irony, that what she thought was his normal buzz is actually him trembling too.

It's his uncertainty that reassures her. And she lets go of her self-control, of all the barriers she has imposed to herself, so her kisses get hungrier and hungrier, until she allows herself to hum from both pleasure and pure joy.

Wally, being Wally, takes her to their bedroom and to their bed before she can feel that the ground is gone from under her feet.

"It's alright now..." he repeats, spreading kisses on her nose, on her lips, on her cheeks, on her jawline, while laying her down on the bed.

Artemis' hands run from his shoulders to his back, looking for the all too-familiar zipper running down his spine, and Wally is suddenly looking into her eyes, a serious and quiet question emanating from the green in them.

"Babe, please," she whispers, her hand finally finding the right place to pull, undoing his suit as she fast as she can. He helps, breaking their eye contact long enough for her to feel at a loss, even if for a second.

She lets her fingers reacquaint themselves with the feel of his torso, with the muscles curling under pale skin, with the goosebumps around his nipples and down his waist. Despite the fight, his skin is untainted; all flesh wounds and bruises already gone.

Wally hoists her upper body, just enough to embrace her and find her own zipper. She feels the fresh air hit the spot where it came free but he doesn't pull the slider any further.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice so soft it carries her anxieties away.

As an answer, she raises herself, sitting up, and with a not so-elegant stretch, finds the slider, unzips her suit herself, and coils to slip her arms out of the long orange sleeves.

She's wearing a very practical yet unsexy sports bra underneath the suit, but Wally looks at her breasts as if she had on some piece made of delicate lace. He touches her left breast as delicately, with no more than his fingertips. It makes her stomach purr and her skin crawl and she lets out a soft sigh and resists closing her eyes like she normally would.

Artemis unclasps the hooks holding the underwear in place and it gets a gasp from Wally that makes her smile with content. And he's lying her down again, looking at her torso with the same intent she had examined his. But her skin showed the signs of the earlier encounter, she's sure of it.

"I almost forgot," he whispers, kissing a sore spot under her right breast. "I was...mad at you?" he goes on, kissing another spot on her ribcage.

"Yes," she struggles to say as he's kissing her near her bellybutton, and it tickles more than it hurts. "Have you already decided if you want to kiss me or kill me?"

He laughs. Genuinely. It's such a wonderful sound, so much richer and louder and warmer than she remembers.

"I'm hurt you even have to ask, beautiful." And he proceeds to develop his answer with his lips to hers.

He kisses her slowly, painfully so, and his hand goes from her face to her hipbone, holding her tight. Suddenly, Artemis is wearing too much clothing and not enough skin. Her hands hold the red and yellow suit and try to tug it down his legs, but it's too tight.

Wally breaks the kiss again and strips down his suit and boxer, and takes Artemis' pants and underwear off a lot slower than he used to. It's like he's giving her time to rethink this, but she's done thinking. That's all she did back in the ocean, away from her friends, her family and him. She just wants some feeling now.

The sky outside is becoming lighter and lighter and Wally is ready and protected for Artemis. But it's awkward. She's grinding her hips at a strange pace, that doesn't match his trusts. Their lips almost come out of sync, and they even clash their teeth once. But she can't say she's not enjoying the way Wally's hand grabs her left breast or how his tongue is drawing abstract patterns on her neck and near her left ear. And she definitely can't hide it, as even her short fingernails find their way into the skin at Wally's back.

Artemis knows that Wally is pacing himself – or at least trying to – from the way he constantly shifts his position, sometimes almost brushing against her torso, sometimes hovering over her body. She's sweating, it's impossible not to under Wally's natural heat intensified by her own, and she's trembling despite lying down.

She's exhausted. Artemis never likes admitting it or feeling it, but she's tired. With the adrenaline from the last months finally getting out of her system with a much needed relaxation and Wally's body on hers, she can't run from it. Wally is about to break, trying to make sure they both have their way into climaxing, but she knows her body is simply too tired.

So she captures Wally's lips with her own, holding him with both of her hands on his neck, and curls her tongue inside his mouth the way she knows that drives him to the edge, and keeps doing so until he's over the edge and his arms give away. His head is resting on her right shoulder, and she allows herself to smile under his weight, feeling his heartbeat.

It takes him a few seconds before he can roll away from her and she just stays there while he disposes of the condom and comes back to her side, making sure she rests her head on his shoulder and holding her in place with both arms.

"Why did you do that?" he asks, his voice almost coarse. "I was trying to..."

"I know," she says, brushing her fingers over the red hair on his waist. It makes him giggle a little and she smiles again. "I just... I missed you. I wanted to let you know."

His arms grow tighter around her.

"Of course you did." His voice is a lot less playful than he's trying to make it sound like. "Who couldn't miss the Wall-man?"

They're back. Artemis and Wally, the archer and the speedster, they're back. And they'll have a lot to talk about, a lot to settle, and she'll have to find the strength within her to admit to him that she liked being back at the game, and they'll argue and make up, and their lives will move on. It's not over yet, she knows it, and even if they had already defeated the Reach, there would still be a very angry Vietnamese woman waiting to describe to them precisely what kind of hell she went through because of their lie.

It doesn't matter now.

In a couple of hours, they have to be back to Blüdhaven, to regroup and plan.

They'll worry about all of this later.