So I was watching Depths (again, because angst and Nightwing in action for a bit), and this thought popped into my mind:
Artemis isn't really unconscious... I wonder what she's thinking.
And thus follows an obnoxious plot bunny, which I wrote down because it was actually kind of decent.
This is first person from Artemis' POV, and should be a two-shot if I get around to it... Lemme know if I got anything wrong as far as the episode goes. I watched one scene like... twenty times trying to get it right for this.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Young Justice, Nightwing would have been waaaaay more active. But we never saw that. So I don't own it.
Also, there's this random line break at the top of this story right now... If anybody knows how to get rid of it, I would be very grateful XD
His water bearer connected forcefully with my bow, sending it flying away towards Nightwing. I knew the former Boy Wonder wasn't about to get back up. He wasn't supposed to. That wasn't part of the plan.
Aqualad's water bearer shifted into a blade. For a moment, I panicked. What if he really was bad? What if he'd lied. What if-
The blade wrapped snugly around my middle, and the only person who could see that it was fake was Nightwing. I gasped at the touch. Of all the things I'd been warned about, Kaldur had forgotten to warn me of the chill of his blades. They were much colder than I'd expected.
I cracked the pill in my mouth that would suppress my vital signs. It would look like I wasn't breathing, and nobody would be able to feel or hear a pulse. Why Nightwing couldn't get something that would actually knock me out was beyond me.
"Welcome back," hissed Aqualad. I looked at his eyes, mine wide open. His held anger, coldness, carelessness, and… regret? Concern? It was too hard to read.
He pulled the blade away, and I instantly put my arms around where it had been. Partly to try and warm the spot back up from the sudden cold, partly to hide the fact that there was no blood, and nothing wrong with me. I stumbled backward, trying to put on a bit of a show.
"ARTEMIS!" Nightwing's voice cracked as he shouted, and for a second, I almost forgot that he knew. He sounded so heartbroken, so alarmed.
Where did he learn such great acting skills? The only thing I'm good at is dying… Which is probably a good thing in this case.
Praying desperately that no one had heard that over the link, I stepped back a little bit, my footing uneven on the sand.
"I got you. Just hang on." Strong hands caught my shoulders, definitely Nightwing's. Not that I'd memorized what his hands felt like or anything, that was just… him. He laid me gently on the sand, one hand supporting my head now, and I groaned a bit before going limp and closing my eyes. Under any other circumstance, he probably would have laughed at how hard I was trying, but that wouldn't have been real… Not at all…
I let my head fall to one side, feeling his hand brush over my upper abdomen. Something wet was there now, thankfully warm instead of cold. I didn't dare open my eyes to look. I had to stay still. I had to play dead.
Nightwing moved his hands to my chest, and began light presses on my chest. I knew he was being careful, trying not to hurt me with what probably looked like CPR.
"One, two, three…"
"Move out; the mission is a failure." That was Aqualad. (Hopefully he wouldn't get in too much trouble for failing his father. Hopefully my death would atone for his failure.)
An explosion rang out overhead. I knew that was the rocket without even opening my eyes. A white light flashed, and I could see it even through my eyelids. (Like it was supposed to? Maybe he'd succeeded after all?)
"Nine, ten, eleven…" Nightwing was still at it, wasn't even paying attention. I wondered briefly how he learned to ignore things so well…
"We are done here," said Aqualad. His voice was calm, as ever, but this calm was laced with malice. I wasn't used to that. I had to suppress a shiver at his tone.
Nightwing had stopped counting, but I still kept track.
Seventeen.
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
Several out of place splashes told me Aqualad and his… for lack of a better word, team, were leaving us. They didn't want to face the wrath of our team mates when they found out…
I heard something solidly hit the sand, then footsteps.
Conner.
Twenty-two.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-four.
A splash, and the sudden arrival of more footsteps announced the arrival of someone else. I assumed M'gann. Oh gosh, she was going to be so heartbroken…
Twenty-five.
Twenty-six.
Twenty-seven.
"I… I don't hear her heart beat…" Conner sounded so blank, so confused… He'd probably never watched someone die. Not like this. It was different when you knew the dying person personally. When it wasn't your fault. I would know…
"Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty." Nightwing sounded so out of breath. To M'gann and Conner, it probably sounded like he was out of breath and panicking. It sounded like it to me, even though I knew it was an act.
I heard him gasp and felt him place one hand on my forehead, and one on my chin. His lips met mine, and I felt him try to force breath down my throat. It was such a weird feeling. I felt him lifting his head from mine, heard him breathe, then felt his lips again. I could have sworn he mumbled a soft "sorry" into my lips before pulling away.
What was he sorry for?
He put one last awkward breath into my body – awkward for me at least – then pulled back again. His hands left my face, and I felt a drop of sweat meet my cheek.
I heard Nightwing sit up. Then he spoke.
"She's dead."
His voice was so hollow, so empty… It pained me to hear him like this. It was hard for me to believe that he was acting.
I lay as still as I possibly could, knowing any sort of movement would ruin it.
Movement in the sand told me Nightwing was sitting back now, and I could almost hear him running his fingers through his hair.
"No." The whisper was M'gann's. It broke my heart. More than anything else in the world right now, I wanted to sit up and tell her it was okay, assure her that I hadn't died. But I couldn't.
"No, she can't be dead." M'gann's voice was so full of determination, and I heard her running towards me. "Artemis, wake up." She placed her hands on my arm. "Artemis, please!" She shook me, and it was all I could do to stay limp. I felt tears landing on my face. "Artemis!"
"M'gann, she's gone." Nightwing had always been the force of reason, even as Robin. I half expected him to tell her to "get traught." But I knew he wouldn't. He'd changed so much since then. We all had.
"No, she's not!" shouted M'gann. "She can't be! I won't let her! Artemis!" Her shaking became frantic, jostling my whole body.
"M'gann!"
"We can't just give up on her, Nightwing!" she protested. I felt her hands leave my arm, felt her place them on my chest. She was going to try CPR…
"M'gann!" Her hands were gone with Nightwing's words, and I assumed that he'd grabbed her hands. "There's nothing we can do."
The Martian girl started to sob, and I imagined Nightwing wrapping his arms around her, trying to comfort her as she mourned.
"YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING MORE!" I heard fists hitting flesh and realized that M'gann was punching Nightwing. "YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE UP HERE! YOU SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED HER!" Nightwing said nothing, taking both the physical and verbal blows soundlessly. "THIS IS ALL! YOUR! FAULT!"
She broke down with the last words, her grief overcoming any anger she was feeling. I felt terrible. This was my fault, not Nightwing's. I should have said no when he'd asked me to rejoin the team, when he'd asked me to join his stupid, idiotic, foolish plan to infiltrate The Light.
Several minutes passed in silence before Nightwing whispered to M'gann to call the bioship. I assumed she'd done as she was told, and heard her get up and walk away. Nightwing slipped his hands under my body and lifted me up, bridal style, carrying me to, I assumed, the bioship.
I was set down after a few short moments, probably in the bioship, and I heard footsteps walking away. But someone was still in the room. I felt a blanket on my feet, and felt someone pull the fabric up so it covered my entire body. Footsteps retreated, but then stopped.
"She was right," came a whisper. It was Nightwing's. "It is my fault. I'm sorry."
I heard him walk away, and remembered before. He'd mumbled sorry; I was just of it now. Then it hit me.
His lips had touched mine. Sure, it was CPR, but he felt guilty. He'd kissed his best friend's girlfriend. Not that it was actually a kiss, but in his mind, it must have been enough to make him feel guilty. He hadn't needed to… Wally would probably be mad when – if – he found out. But he wouldn't.
Nightwing had been through enough already.
He didn't need any more guilt that he already had.
So there... Yeah.
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