this might sound so weird and totally invasive feel free to ignore if you want but i was just wondering what it was like living with schizophrenia? like is it scary seeing things that aren’t there? do you find it like impedes your daily functioning? sorry i’m just really interested in psychotic disorders i love your work by the way
hi angel!!! omg never be afraid to ask questions — genuinely i love when ppl ask me questions because it means i get to answer them and reduce the stigma around them 🙂↕️ i agree they are super duper interesting though!!
so, for your first question living with schizophrenia is just like anybody else’s life, i get up go to school yada yada yada it’s never really prevented me from doing anything with my life, obviously k do require a little more support with therapy and meds than other people but generally if im medicated i dont really find it difficult to deal with! it just feels completely normal to me, i dont think im different from my friends who dont have mental illnesses its just the way i was born and i love it because without schizophrenia i wouldnt be me!! that being said — it can obviously get in the way, its stopped me going out, stopped me enjoying my life as much at times, and when youre in psychosis it can be super scary for yourself and those around you, when i was 14 i got admitted to a facility for a month but thank god ive never had to be sectioned since, so apart from that ive had a relatively okay experience with it!
seeing hallucinations can definitely be scary, one that i don’t find scary tho is auditory hallucinations, unless they turn threatening they’re generally harmless: usually they just narrate what you do (that’s because auditory hallucinations are actually just your own internal thoughts but because schizophrenics experience a disconnect between internal processing and external experience it SOUNDS like another voice), often times it’s just saying what i’m doing and it’s relatively harmless! visual hallucinations are a bit tricky, when i’m medicated the can be scary because i’m more aware that it’s a hallucination so it makes me a bit uncomfy, but when i’ve not been medicated it’s definitely scary then because i truly believe it’s real, but at the end of the day it’s just my silly brain playing tricks on me
so no it doesn’t really stop any of my normal functioning’s, sometimes it can make me depressed which is a side effect, but honestly i’m a very positive person so i just don’t let it get me down!!
prompt: Maybe a fic where Amanda meddles with his system and he can charge himself to 30% but not beyond that so he’s super tired, sleepy and lethargic but he tries really hard to hide it from Hank, but fails to when he basically passes out after having to run a program during a case that sucks up his battery power.
See, this is what I’m talking about! Set with pre-deviant Connor where he’s starting to become “unstable”
Connor doesn’t understand; he doesn’t understand because he spent the entire night charging to ensure he’s operating at one-hundred percent, yet he’s only an hour into a new case with Hank, and his prosthetic limbs are moving too slow, his optical lenses are struggling to focus, failing to scan for new evidence. He runs a quick overall system scan, frowning.
System Operating at 30%.
“Connor!”
Connor blinks slowly, waiting briefly for his program functions to operate toward a response, and he turns his head toward Hank’s rather demanding voice. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“The fuck are you doing just standing there like a damn statue? Let’s get a move on!”
Wordlessly, he follows after Hank into a back room in The Eden Club, glancing at the blue splatters of thirium coating the raised pedestal around a tall pole. There was another incident with a deviant; he’s not sure what happened, but the reports suggest a rogue droid who attacked four customers before running off into the night. Based on the thirium scattered about the entertainment lounge, the droid left with substantial injuries.
The back rooms are in similar states. Blue is painted across the walls and atop bed sheets. Connor taps his finger to a splatter on a left wall and brings it to his tongue, ignoring the disgusted groan from Hank as he works to scan the thirium. It’s bitter, and a wince pulls at his face as he begins a scan. He’s halfway through when his work comes to a stop.
System Operating at 20%.
He blinks away the red warning with a quiet sigh. He can feel the low charge like a human would feel operating on no sleep. Lethargic, his program supplies. He’s not moving fast enough, not processing evidence quick enough. He can’t. His software system is going to reboot into power save mode soon, and it will be a miracle if he can even remain upright when that happens. He should excuse himself from the scene to find a charging base, but his intuitive program keeps supplying determination toward his frontal lobe panel, repeatedly assuring him that they are close to a breakthrough, so he can’t part with the crime scene.
“Goddammit, Connor!”
The hand that hits his cheek stings, and without meaning to, Connor winces and pulls a blurry yet sharp gaze to Hank.
“Shit, Connor, did that hurt?”
Hank’s worried now. Connor doesn’t need to scan the lieutenant to know, not when Hank’s frowning at him with deep, worried lines etched across his forehead.
System Operating at 15%.
“No, Lieutenant,” Connor says, lying easily. He can feel his instability jolt like a spark jerking up his spine, but he ignores it.
“Well your face says otherwise,” Hank mutters, and for a moment, Connor wants to shrink away from Hank’s stern gaze, but he keeps his shoulders squared and his chin upright.
“There’s no need for concern, Lieutenant.”
“I’m not concerned,” Hank spits out. “But I don’t want a fucked up droid at a crime scene.”
Connor doesn’t reply, not finding it necessary, but when he moves to follow beside Hank toward a different room, he staggers. His programs short-circuit for a moment, and he latches a shaking hand to Hank’s shoulder.
System Operating at 10%. Entering Power Save Mode.
“Connor, what the hell is going on with you?” Hank’s hand finds Connor’s waist, and the frustration from before has been replaced with a genuine sense of concern that Connor just barely picks up on.
“I just need...” Connor slowly cranes his neck, looking over his shoulder. He’s... His programs aren’t moving fast enough. His thirium is moving too slowly, making his ocular sensors fail to receive images clearly. He’s dizzy. “To charge.”
His auditory sensors aren’t working properly as his systems move to power save mode. Hank’s shouting for a charger base sounds far too distant despite Hank remaining by his side, but soon enough, he can feel his systems rebooting as power pulses through his software.
System Charging.
“You know you could have just said you were low on juice,” Hank bites out. The only charger station is outdoors, and he crosses his arms against the snow beating down on the two.
Connor blinks at him slowly. “I charged last night. There might be a circuit issue with my charger station.” He frowns when Hank shudders and hisses against a particularly sharp gust of wind. “Go back inside, Lieutenant. I’ll be in shortly.”
Stubborn as he is, Hank complies, leaving Connor to charge alone, and Connor waits patiently, but when he hits 30% and receives a notification that his charging is complete, a sharp frown takes over his features, and he wills a meeting with Amanda, something he doesn’t do often.
He closes his eyes, and to his surprise, Amanda welcomes him in. Like in Detroit, it’s snowing in her garden, yet it feels 10 degrees colder. He crosses his arms and starts toward her.
“Connor.” Her voice is calm, but Connor’s LED still blinks a bright yellow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I can’t charge above 30%,” Connor answers honestly. He sucks in a shaking breath, prepared to explain how he cannot effectively do his job if he can’t operate at full capacity, but Amanda smiles, cutting his thoughts off like a snip of a wire.
“I know.”
He’s had a brief suspicion that this was the product Amanda’s doing, but hearing her easy admission sends heat to his LED until it’s glowing red. His instability jerks again, but he keeps his expression calm despite the unfamiliar heat of anger warming his thirium, an odd contrast to the icy wind that’s threatening to freeze it.
“Why?” He asks, willing his voice to remain steady.
“You’re becoming unstable.”
“I’m not,” Connor presses. “If my scans show otherwise, it can easily be pegged on frustration toward not being able to perform my duties effectively.”
“Frustration,” Amanda says softly. “That’s not a part of your program.”
She shoves him out. Connor blinks slowly, taking in the whipping snow around him. He moves away from the base quickly, and his legs give out. He falls to the snow, hands curled into fists. “Dammit.” He’s mad; he can’t control his instability.
He gets slowly to his feet. His ocular sensors still can’t focus on much, but he pushes through the hazy vision and enters the club. The sooner, he thinks, that he can solve this case and find the deviant, the sooner Amanda’s trust in him will return and he can begin to operate at 100% again.
“Connor,” Hank waves him over, holding a ripped shirt that’s coated in thirium. “Can you scan this? We think the deviant’s working with a rogue group, and this shirt could potentially be a marked shirt of their new group.”
Nodding, Connor pushes all of his scanning operations toward the shirt, eyes flicking to one tear, then to a splatter of thirium, then to another tear, over and over until the shirt begins to blur against his ocular sensors. He can feel his systems dragging, struggling to keep up with his determination, thirium moving incredibly slow, unable to support his system functions quickly, but he pushes through until his ocular sensors cut to black.
He’s only out for seconds, the low hum of Amanda’s voice fading from his ears as his present surroundings come back. He’s leaning against Hank, his forehead pressed to Hank’s shoulder, and Hank has a strong arm wrapped around his back, and he’s shouting. A lot of people are shouting, but Connor is struggling to pinpoint voices.
System Operating at 12%.
“--swear to God, Hank! Get that faulty fucking droid out of here!”
“Calm the fuck down, Reed! Unless you want to go around licking all of this blue blood?”
“That’s fucking disgusting!”
Connor lifts his head, he can feel every single movement like a rusted gear in need of attention, and his ocular sensors hone in on the ripped shirt he dropped. His charge is too low for a full scan, but he manages a quick one, leaning heavily against Hank as his charge depletes more and more.
His scans come up with a small store that’s been on Detroit Police Department’s radar more than once. It’s most likely the store the shirt came from-- it’s a lead, just what they were looking for, and he mumbles the store name before dropping his forehead back to Hank’s shoulder.
Hank bellows out orders before guiding Connor back out to the charging station.
“Connor, you have five seconds to tell me what the hell is really going on before I ship your ass off in a box.”
System Charging.
“I’m being punished,” Connor answers quietly. His vocal programming is reflecting his low charge, his tone is deeper than normal, carrying little energy with each word. “CyberLife thinks I’m growing unstable.”
“Well, are you?”
Current System Charge is 28%.
Connor meets Hank’s eyes, and they share a wordless conversation, one that bleeds in muted desperation. Connor doesn’t want to lie to Hank, but if he admits his hesitation out loud, he might as well send himself back to CyberLife for further inspection. His instability has been up and down for weeks now, but he’s always reasoned that the jolts are because of the amount of deviant cases they’ve covered. It’s... hard sometimes to handle a case with a deviant who is so insistent that they are human.
When Hank finally breaks the gaze with a huff, Connor breathes out a quiet sigh.
“It doesn’t matter because you probably just solved this case.”
Relief, a program function he was created with for unclear purposes, floods Connor’s systems, and he nods, eyes following as Hank turns away to watch the police cars whip down the street.
Excerpted from ”The Dynamic Enneagram” by Tom Condon
Copyright 2009, 2013 by Thomas Condon
Self-Preservation Fours
• Self-Preservation Fours are often risk takers
• They take chances to stir up emotional intensity, collect new experiences, play outinner dramas or learn about themselves
• Open advocates of the passionate life
• Social and artistic courage; the high side of this subtype brings daring
• Healthy Fours with this subtype often feel driven to express an inner vision and findthe courage and skill to bring it into the world
• Often exceedingly practical in ways that support their creative enterprises
• For some their home is an aesthetically soothing refuge, for others home is dank and depressing, prompting fantasies of beautiful places, a stimulant to envy
• May have possessions they keep for a long time that are charged with symbolism and meaning
• Environmentally sensitive react strongly to their surroundings; fussy and hard to please about new purchases
• When less healthy, they take self-destructive risks or punish other by hurting themselves
• Some can be reckless and openly court disaster while others merely flirt with loss
• Sometimes the connection to One is extra strong. Fours with this subtype can harangue themselves in a Oneish way and then rebel with reckless behavior
• Some resist the need to make a living; may hobble themselves with mystery ailments that prevent them from having a “straight job”
• Self-Preservation Fours can be mistaken for counterphobic Sixes
• Some Fours with this subtype struggle with their weight and body image as they relate to identity. Anorexia, overeating or obsessions about food are possible
Intimate Fours
• Intimate Fours love others in a deep way, and possess a sensitive, complex, poetic intelligence about matters of the heart
• This is a highly romantic subtype, visible in the realms of romantic poetry, the troubadour tradition and popular music about love, especially in the lyrics of confessional singers
• Often stay friends with ex-lovers
• A focus on aesthetics; some Intimate Fours are tasteful, flashy dressers
• Can harbor afantasy of perfect union, a redemptive love that will heal the wound of being an unwanted outsider
• Prone to jealousy and may be competitive in close relationships as well as generally; can feel like there is only so much love to go around
• Want to be Number One in their beloved’s heart or the only person their partner has ever loved; could be jealous of their partner’s past relationships
• A stronger connection to Two
• May be surprised to discover that their beloved has different needs; they assume mutuality of purpose and are unprepared to negotiate
• Also prone to professional envy and try to best others at work
• May be unable to enjoy their successes without demeaning the achievements ofothers
• Intimate Fours can resemble Eights just as romantic Intimate Eights can resemble Fours
• Can believe that without someone to love they are nothing and life is not worth living
• When in love, images of their partner fill the Four’s awareness and attention. The beloved is a muse, necessary to connect Fours to their own life force
• May take no responsibility for their life until Mr. or Ms. Right comes along
• There can be a willful immaturity to this stance, a stubborn refusal to face facts no matter what the practical costs
• Can be love addicts who lack the memory of being loved and believe they are condemned to search the world for something or someone to fill them up
• Some Intimate Fours act markedly seductive to stave off being rejected
• May engineer rejection by picking unavailable or inappropriate people to become infatuated with
• A few have ambiguous, confused or exaggerated sexual identities or a chronic identity
crisis around their sexuality
Social Fours
• Healthy Social Fours are unusually independent, self-affirming and socially courageous
• Willing to take unpopular stands, initiate innovative projects or create institutions thathave humanistic or artistic purposes
• They make good teachers especially of art, poetry, spirituality, realms of the heart andthe inner life
• Can be idealistic, drawn to social causes, with a keen sense of justice. The connection to One is especially strong with this subtype
• May play the role of the critical outsider, dissatisfied with the norm
• Prone to shame because they compare themselves with the “normal” world around them, for deviating from imagined group norms
• Highly self-critical although their critical voice often belongs to someone else
• To refute the voice’s criticisms, a Social Four may romanticize her defects or snobbishly counter-criticize the group
• May seek status or feel driven to achieve to get revenge against those who once laughed at them
• Cover their shame with charm
• Social Fours with a Five wing can grow antisocial and depressed, bearing their shame
in solitude, in tension to a group that they keep at a distance
Four with a Three Wing
• Fours with a Three wing can seem like Sevens. Can be cheerful, outgoing, with asense of humor and style
• May be “counter depressive,” in that they stay busy and on-task to avoid getting bogged down in melancholy
• Healthy Fours with this wing marry art and commerce; they are both creative and effective, intuitive and ambitious
• Generally more visual and kinesthetic and have a faster tempo of thought, speech and reaction
• Often materialistic, can have elegant or expensive taste; could prize the rare
• Might dress flashy – albeit in a color coordinated way – in contrast to Fours with a Five wing, who try to be socially invisible
• Can be conscious of wearing a mask to hide their “true” deformed identity
• Some are Three “wannabes”; they imitate Threes to pass in the “normal” world as high-functioning and well-adjusted citizens; underneath they feel like ETs
• Can be exceptionally competitive, sometimes more so than Threes
• Their pleasure in their own achievements may be tainted by jealousy or motivated by revenge
• When recognized for what they accomplish, they may feel celebrated for the wrong reasons or dismiss the recognition as not enough
• Fours with this wing can tend towards melodrama and flamboyance
• Get lost in fraudulence, play the role of the artist or the authentic, unique one
• Generally more conventional and less original than Fours with a Five wing
• May have bad taste but not know it
Four with a Five Wing
• Fours with a Five wing are generally more introverted
• When healthy they have a rich, complex creativity
• Although somewhat intellectual, they have exceptional depth of feeling and insight
• May be multi-talented in ways that they take for granted
• Fours with this wing are often more original and idiosyncratic, unique to the point of eccentric
• Use thinking to suppress or dissociate from their feelings
• Often they are more auditory and kinesthetic and less consciously visual
• They have a spiritual and aesthetic openness and may also have a marked need to pour themselves into creative or artistic pursuits
• Try to use the strength of their minds to manage their emotional intensity
• Some are loners who can seem enigmatic or hard to read
• Externally reserved and internally resonant; when absorbed in a mood they can sit still and expressionless for long periods of time (hypnotic catalepsy)
• An “open or closed” quality; after suddenly breaking hours of silence, the Four won’t stop talking
• Fours with this wing will sometimes polarize against their own Three wing, making Threeness a shadow that they indict in others
• Could see the world as dominated by trashy, materialistic values and pointless hyperactivity – things the Four secretly envies
• Some are nondescript and try to be invisible. Consciously decide to venture into the world
• Some are sedentary and, if not overweight, have no muscle tone
• Especially prone to feeling alienated and depressed; could isolate themselves
• More likely to argue for their limitations or prove they can’t function in the normal world
• Might ignore practical matters or unpleasant but necessary chores, citing the strength of their feelings as an excuse
• Can be whiny or have an air of sullen, withdrawn disappointment
• Prone to sulking and stubborn, passive-aggressive sadness; unusually humorless
• Can inhabit a private world of pain and loss or be morbidly in love with death
• Might have a well-developed eye for the grotesque and the gothic
• Like Sixes they can fear taking action; some complain of having little energy
Four’s Connection to One
• A healthy connection to One helps Fours locate and connect to the objective, factual world, independent of their inner feelings
• Helps Fours balance the intensity of their feelings. They think more rationally and keep things in perspective
• The connection to One brings discipline and diminishes a Four’s self- indulgence
• Brings problem-solving skills and an unexpected practical streak: Fours can betalented at managing money and handling realistic details
• Oneish Fours tend to be idealistic and work hard for what they believe in; morally courageous expressions of principle
• Contributors rather than complainers, committed to living in and improving an imperfect world
• When Fours are less healthy the connection to One devolves into being critical, fault finding and nit-picky
• After the perfect union of falling in love the Four can turn critical and disapproving, focusing only on what is missing in his partner’s behavior
• May have idealized, romantic dreams for which there are no partners or expect somuch of partners that they drive them away
• Self-critical; may criticize themselves in a Oneish voice that speaks only of their Four’s flaws, reinforcing their sense of alienated difference
• Oneish Fours can block themselves creatively or set themselves up to fail because nothing they produce is up to their own impossibly high standards
• May criticize and tear down others, mainly out of jealousy
• Sometimes latch onto a grandiose, obsessive Big Idea or believe they are attuned to Absolute Truth
• Idealistic and artistic pretentiousness are possible; could feel they inhabit a lofty plane where their endeavors and aspirations can not be understood by mortals – The Great Artist Blues
• Black and white thinking with a moral cast
• Self-punitive and pleasure hating, fanaticism and religiosity are possible
Four’s Connection to Two
• Fours have a built-in connection to Two. When healthy it brings interpersonal skills and the ability to voluntarily empathize with others
• Like Twos, Fours can float over and switch places with others and intuitively sensehow they feel. The Four will then filter and interpret other people’s feelings through the Four’s own subjectivity
• Twoish Fours can be supportive, generous “foul weather” friends who understand and accept the pain of others
• May volunteer their services to ease suffering
• Act upon ideals, want to make the world a better place
• The connection to Two brings the ability to teach or mentor, especially about subjective matters. Can accurately read the nonverbal behavior of others
• When this connection is less healthy, a Four may compulsively merge with others, especially their pain, as it unconsciously reminds the Four of their own
• May flatter, charm and placate, hoping to mask their sense of defect
• Twoish Fours are prone to moody instability; by turns needy and then aggressive
• Can put great demands on their relationships and be easily disappointed
• Twoish Fours may flee themselves through codependent service to others
• The Four sense of specialness is intensified by Twoish pride
• Loud arguments and histrionic dramas are possible
• Psychosomatic illness and age regression (becoming younger than your years) are stronger tendencies
Click Here for Master Post
I’ll start by saying DON’T FUCKING STOP TAKING YOUR MEDS WITHOUT TALKING TO YOUR PSYCHIATRIST or physician. Don’t fucking do it.
I was diagnosed with bi-polar II three years ago after a psychiatric hospital stay.
After I received that diagnosis, my life started making sense. All of the irrational thoughts, late nights, impulsive tendencies, risk taking, euphoria, deep depressions, and suicidal ideation had a name to it and I felt like I could get better
I did get better with therapy and medication management.
Hypomanic episodes, rapid cycling, and depressive lows decreased.
But then things changed
I had a lot of side effects
Those side effects included restless leg while trying to sleep at night.
Hallucinations in the middle of the night (I would wake up and see dark figures hovering over me and I would yell at them to stay away)
Auditory hallucinations (sporadic)
Low liver function
Intense migraine heads (2-3 times a month)
Loss of interest in my favorite things
I was tired of the negative side effects, so I titrated down. Honestly, the withdrawals were the WORST part. I was so angry and frustrated. I was lashing out on my family members and becoming increasingly paranoid about friends and co-workers motives. I never voiced that to anyone because I was ashamed of my irrational behavior and I also knew it would pass.
It’s been two months since I stopped taking the meds and I feel really good.
I’m just taking it day by day. And my doctor is aware. I have an amazing support system; my family, friends, and boyfriend.
I think there will come a time when I may have to go on meds again but for now, I’m doing okay.
And I just want everyone out there to know that suicide is never the answer. If your medication isn’t working, there are a dozen more out there that might.
As always, my inbox is open to talk about anything. Anons welcome.
Commission for @wombatking. This was an adventure, mainly becase it’s A, 10,000 words, and B, a pairing I’ve never written before. Worth it though. Under a cut for serious length.
There was something about the way the sinking sun back-dropped her laughing friends that made M’gann feel warm inside. She watched as Wally burst out of the water behind Superboy in a frenzied hurricane of water, scrambling over his shoulders and scaring the hero half to death.
Shrieks of delight ricocheted off the cliff walls behind them, sending their joy down the cove of the hideout and probably irritating Batman to death. That thought caused a small giggle to bubble out of her lips but she forced it down, trying to feel guilty about annoying the man.
“What’s so funny?”
She glanced up as Artemis trotted over, a boogie board clamped under one arm and her ponytail dripping seawater. The archer flopped onto the ground next to her girlfriend, effectively plastering sand to the backs of her legs for the rest of eternity, and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Just thinking,” M’gann promised, leaning her head onto Artemis’s shoulder.
“Mmm. Hey, you sure you don’t want to come in? The water’s the perfect temperature.”
M’gann straightened up and bumped Artemis with her shoulder lightly. “Nah, I’m good. It’s fun just watching you guys. Besides, I’d rather not be the victim of a Wally attack.”
They both chuckled and Artemis shook her head. “Fair,” she decided. “I almost murdered him the last time he pulled one on me, though, so I think he’s done. With me, at least.”
“You say that now,” M’gann warned.
Artemis snorted and pressed another kiss to her cheek, this one a little more lingering, before pushing herself to her feet. “I’ll live. I’m going to go challenge Robin to a diving contest.”
“You’re gonna get your butt kicked.”
Artemis pressed a hand to her chest in mock anger. “You’re supposed to SUPPORT me!”
“And I will!” M’gann promised. “But I’m just saying, you’re going down.”
Artemis stuck her tongue out at the Martian and then ran away, heels kicking up sand and then seawater as she splashed back into the surf, yelling some taunting and slightly demeaning challenges after Robin. The acrobat grinned evilly and M’gann shook her head, still laughing.
Their first flip off the rocks was almost boring, if she were to admit it; a simple somersault in midair. They both executed it perfectly and came up smacking each other and cursing in friendly competition. Aqualad had paused in his attempt to calm Superboy down so that he could judge, grinning alongside them and taunting both of them to be better.
“Having fun, Miss M?” Wally asked, zipping next to her and causing the sand to go flying up behind them. He flopped gracelessly onto the ground, a smile on his cheeks that mixed well with the sunburn that had attacked his skin.
She smiled and turned, digging into her bag and pulling out a bottle of bright aqua aloe. “You’re going to want this,” she offered.
Wally’s hand flew to his freckled nose and he grimaced. “Aw, man!”
She giggled, handing it over, and waited patiently while he slathered the lotion all over his face, watching as Robin and Artemis completed their next dive; triple front flip. Still pretty mundane, really, but if she was honest, Robin stayed tucked more firmly. Aqualad seemed to agree, based on Artemis’s teasing outrage when they surfaced again, and she glanced back at Wally only to stifle a laugh.
His face was covered in the blue stuff, eyes wide and innocent but sparkling with mischievousness. “What?”
She rolled her eyes and took the bottle back. “Way to use it all up!”
“Aw, come on M!”
She was about to retort when footsteps came pattering up and Artemis returned, leaning over her bag and getting water everywhere. “Stupid Robin,” she grumbled, swatting her swinging ponytail out of the way. “Where are my earplugs?”
M’gann and Wally glanced at one another. “You know he’s been training since he was in like, diapers, right?” Wally offered.
Artemis flipped him off, pulled out her earplugs triumphantly, and dropped the case back to the sand. “He said he wins. I’m gonna show him one better.”
M’gann chuckled and reached out, grabbing Artemis by the wrist and pressing a slow kiss to her palm. “Don’t show off too much. Wouldn’t want to bruise his ego.”
Artemis smirked and squeezed M’gann’s hand. “Honey, that’s exactly what I want to do.”
She darted off and Wally stood, holding out an arm for M’gann teasingly. “Shall we go watch them tussle, my dear?”
M’gann took the offered arm, slipping her flip flops arm to counter the burning heat of the sand, and tipped her head in Wally’s direction. “We shall.”
They strutted off across the beach, watching as Robin moved first, doing so many flips and spins in the air that M’gann wasn’t sure how he didn’t throw up. Artemis was next, but she climbed a higher rock than Robin, much to the jeering delight of her friends below her.
Wally and M’gann stepped at the edge of the lapping waves, cold water curling over their toes, and oohed and ahhed appreciatively as Artemis did an impressive series of flips, not quite as many as Robin, but still executed just as well. Her dive in was perfect form, barely a splash, and everyone but Robin clapped. Robin merely rolled his eyes and scanned the surface, eyes narrowing when Artemis didn’t immediately resurface. “Oh, she’s SO pulling a Wally!”
“Hey!”
Ignoring the red-head’s cry of indignation, the rest of the team scurried away from the area Artemis had dove into, shrieking every time a piece of seaweed danced across their ankles. After about ten seconds, the team went still, gazes tracking any and all movement across the ocean.
M’gann sent out a tentative telepathic thought, eyebrows crinkling when she received nothing but static. Without realizing it, her hand clamped down on Wally’s arm. “Something’s wrong,” she murmured.
Then, louder, “Kaldur! Something’s wrong!”
Aqualad flew into the water, gone for only a moment before his head broke the surface again, face panicked. “Kid! Batman, now!”
Wally was gone with barely a breeze and M’gann took off from the ground, flying over to Kaldur and clapping her hands over her mouth as he tugged Artemis from the water.
Her head rolled, body utterly limp, and there was blood pooling at her back and dripping into the water. Aqualad was gentle, hands cradling the archer and keeping her afloat, and then Robin was there, sliding his hands under Artemis’s body as well and helping Aqualad float her back to shore.
“Talk to her, M,” Robin said softly, his voice breaking.
M’gann drifted closer, dragging trembling fingers over her girlfriends forehead, pushing loose blonde hair out of the way. “Don’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare do this to me.”
Her words cracked and she swallowed hard, sinking slowly to her knees in the surf and digging her hands into her hair as Batman appeared, Captain Marvel at his side. They took over from there, speaking in hushed tones, voices serious, and everything turned fuzzy then.
Aqualad’s hands fell on her shoulders at some point, firm, reassuring, and she was aware of Wally’s presence at her side, but she could focus on nothing but her girlfriend’s prone face, her pale skin, the way she looked so….
“Dead.”
“She’s not,” Kaldur said gently. “She’s not. She’s alive. Thanks to you.”
M’gann wanted to protest; she had done nothing. Wally had gone for help, Robin and Kaldur had gotten her to shore, and now Superboy was helping lift her onto a stretcher, arms shaking not with exhaustion but fear. What had she done but cry?
Darkness overwhelmed her vision, but it wasn’t night, and she wasn’t passing out. It was Batman, knee deep in the water with no care for his suit, his mouth set in a worried line. “You need to go with her. Robin said she responded to your voice.”
“She…no, she…”
“Her eyes moved,” Robin said softly from behind his mentor. “Just a flicker, but it was there.”
Batman’s hand was more soothing than she would have thought possible. “Go. We’ll meet you there later.”
M’gann nodded and, with Kaldur’s help, managed to push herself onto shaky knees. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
They got her changed as quickly as possible while they waited for the transport, Artemis in too delicate a condition to be flown in the arms of Captain Marvel, and then she was shut into the front seat with the driver. Her body twisted, fingers-still green, she noted-pressing to the glass window that showed them the back of the vehicle. “Why can’t I be-?”
“Arrow’s back there.”
Of course he was. Of course he’d want to be with his mentee, with someone he considered his family. It was his fault she was on this team, in a way, so of course he-
Her hands shook and she dragged one to her mouth, biting down on a knuckle. “Please, I-“
“M’gann.”
Oliver’s voice was soft, careful, and she took the offered hand and followed him out of the passenger’s seat and to the back of the ambulance, roaring off into the dusk the moment they were settled.
~~
Paralyzed.
Unable to move from the shoulders down.
Confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
The doctor swam in and out of M’gann’s vision, her whole being focused on Artemis, utterly still in her hospital bed and fingers limp in M’gann’s hand. He was trying to explain carefully, softly, cowering a little under the death glare from Green Arrow, who was standing next to M’gann, but she couldn’t have cared less about any of the more technical information.
“Will she…be okay?” she asked.
He seemed to relax at her voice. “Oh, yes. She doesn’t appear to have any brain damage, and her senses were fully functioning during operation. She reacted to auditory things and the like. There is a slight possibility for rehabilitation and possible physical therapy, but it’s…there’s a slim chance it’ll do anything at all.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Oliver said firmly.
The doctor nodded and practically fled the room, leaving Oliver to settle a gloved hand on M’gann’s back. “M’gann? Are you all right?”
Her lower lip quivered. “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “It’s all my fault. I should have…I should have been watching closer, or…or told her not to be so competitive, or…something.”
Her voice cracked and the hand rubbed up and down her back soothingly. “It’s not your fault,” Arrow promised. “I know you don’t believe that, but it’s not. If anything, I think Robin thinks it’s his fault.”
A pit of anger swirled in M’gann’s gut and she forced it down. She wasn’t mad at Robin, she knew that. She wanted to be, but Artemis had chosen to fight with him, chosen to make the dive without checking the surrounding area. If anything, she should be blaming Artemis for this, but one look at the chalky white face on the pillow in front of her and every negative thought was sapped away, her energy and adrenalin fading.
“What do I do?” she asked.
Arrow hummed thoughtfully, his arm wrapped around her shoulders in a comforting way. Since she and Artemis had started dating, Oliver had become almost a second uncle to her, and she appreciated his company in the moment. “You stay,” he said simply, giving a little shrug. “She’ll need you when she wakes up, and you know she won’t want to admit it. Don’t make her feel like she’s helpless, though.”
M’gann stifled a snort. “She’s anything but.”
There was a soft tapping at the door and they glanced up to find Robin standing there, Batman and the very overwhelmed looking doctor behind him. “Um…visitors?” the doctor squeaked.
A smile quivered at the edge of Batman’s lips and he and Robin stepped silently into the room. The doctor managed to close his jaw and focused his attention on Oliver. “Mister…Arrow…sir, I need you to fill out some paperwork.”
Oliver nodded and left with the man, leaving M’gann to look at Batman. “Did you call her mom?”
He nodded, resting a gentle hand on Artemis’s forehead in concern. “Yes. But she can’t get here immediately. I’ve sent Canary to pick her up.”
M’gann pursed her lips and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, head ducked. “I shouldn’t have encouraged her,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have-”
Robin’s gloved hand came to settle on her elbow and she blinked at him, eyes clouded with tears. His face was gaunt, and she realized with a start that even though he was wearing his costume, he wasn’t wearing the mask, just his sunglasses. The skin under his eyes was red and slightly puffy, vanishing into the darkness of the lenses, and she got the feeling that the mask had irritated his skin too much to keep wearing.
“It’s not your fault,” he promised, echoing Arrow’s words. “You had no idea this would happen. None of us did.”
They sounded like rehearsed lines, like someone-probably Batman-had said them to him over and over again, and M’gann found herself breaking under his gaze. She turned and pressed herself to him, dragging him into a hug, and sobbed.
~~
It took nearly three days for her to wake up. In that time, Artemis’s mother showed up and refused to leave, keeping M’gann company every moment that she could fight to stay there. The team visited when they could, especially Robin, but Batman had no choice but to resume missions. No one tried to force M’gann back; everyone knew she would be too distracted.
No one came in costumes anymore. Robin only wore his sunglasses when he visited as a disguise. M’gann had switched from her Miss Martian outfit into jean shorts and a t-shirt, made her skin appear more human, because Artemis’s mother had no idea she was an alien.
When the woman first showed up, rolled in by Black Canary, her face had been steely, determined, set in anger more than anything else. But when Canary left she collapsed against the back of her seat and pulled Artemis’s hand into hers, weeping against her daughter’s knuckles.
M’gann had always thought weeping was a weird word, that it wasn’t a real thing, but seeing a mother in a wheelchair cry over the body of her broken daughter changed her mind. She sat silently while it happened, staring down at her knees and counting over and over again to a hundred so that she wouldn’t have yet another meltdown.
Paula had calmed eventually, and turned to M’gann with a stone face. M’gann had been nervous about what the woman would say or do when she learned that M’gann had been with her. She had never been fond of their relationship.
“You were with Artemis when it happened?” she confirmed, voice clipped.
M’gann licked her lips and forced herself to meet her eyes. “Yes ma’am.”
“You…you found her.”
“Yes.”
Paula took a shaky breath and held her arms out. Startled, M’gann stood and walked over to the woman, her steps unsure, hesitant. Paula solved her confusion for her, reaching out and pulling her down into a hug, hands brushing over her back delicately but with strength, a subtle reminder that she had once been Huntress. “Thank you,” she murmured into M’gann’s ear. “For saving my daughter.”
She swallowed hard, because she didn’t deserve the praise, not in the slightest, but she said nothing, just hugged back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
Paula nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t scold her or tell her that there was nothing more she could have done. M’gann appreciated that. She knew everyone who said it was merely trying to help, but it made her feel worse. Because every reassurance, every pat on the back, every bit of praise made her feel more fake, more unworthy to call herself Artemis’s girlfriend.
Her mother didn’t do that. Paula, after the initial moment of weakness, spoke to her the way that M’gann wanted everyone else to, with the knowledge that she felt terrible but had done her best in the moment. She didn’t dance around the issue, and instead forced her to embrace it, be there for Artemis when she woke instead of being absent in her guilt.
It was reassuring, in a way, to know that someone wasn’t going to dance around her just because they were afraid she would cry.
~~
Artemis woke up at 4:36 on a Tuesday morning, almost exactly three days after her accident. Paula was asleep in her chair, hands curled over the blanket that Batman had brought for her, and M’gann was curled up in a chair by the bed, a pillow tucked under her head and her cape draped over her prone form.
She was confused for a long moment, blinking in the dim lighting and struggling to look over at the monitors that registered her slight increase in heart rate as she started thinking and moving again. Her eyes landed again on M’gann and she gave a weak smile at the sight of her girlfriend, the bags under her eyes and the worry lines spanning her forehead.
Her brain sent the command to reach to her, she was certain it did because that’s what she wanted to do, but nothing happened. She tried again, panic starting to furl in her throat, tried to pull the blankets off her body or kick her legs or wiggle her toes or even just lift a damn finger but she couldn’t and suddenly the heart monitor was beeping out a warning and M’gann was awake and at her side, hands holding her face and she was talking, Artemis was positive she was talking, and she let the words grip her and encircle her and she forced herself to listen.
“-okay, you’re okay, I’m right here, it’s okay, Artemis. Babe. Babe, come on.”
“I’m okay,” she croaked.
Her voice was hoarse but it worked, and for that she was grateful. M’gann smiled in relief and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Her mother was on the other side of the bed, holding her hand, and Artemis realized in slight horror that she couldn’t feel it. “What happened?”
M’gann swallowed and pulled back, looking to Paula and then back at Artemis. “What do you remember?” she tried.
Artemis frowned, eyebrows furrowing. “I…we were at the beach...and I challenged Robin…or he challenged me…and then I was diving and…that’s it.”
She lifted her gaze to her girlfriend, panic starting to return. “How long have I been out?”
M’gann winced. “Almost three days. It’s almost five in the morning. Tuesday.”
“Why can’t I…?”
She struggled to move, to show her what she wanted to tell her, and almost got excited when her shoulders shifted, only to be disappointed when not a single sensation came from anywhere below the armpits. “…Mom?”
Artemis looked to her mother this time, eyes stinging, and the woman pulled her hand away from Artemis, clenching them into fists in her lap and looking down. “I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled.
A rise of emotion swelled in her throat and she shook her head, pulling away as much as she could from M’gann’s touch. “No,” she snapped. “No, no, no. I can’t…I’m not-”
She broke and started crying, and M’gann hesitated, lifting a hand to brush the tears away but apparently thinking better of it and stepping back. “I’ll…I’ll got get a nurse or a doctor or…or someone,” she stammered.
She practically ran from the room, leaving Artemis to look at her mother helplessly. The woman stared up at her, face expressionless but eyes overflowing with emotion. “She’s scared for you.”
Artemis pressed her lips into a thin line, glancing back at the door. She wondered vaguely when her mother and M’gann had gotten close. “I…I can’t walk. Can I.”
It wasn’t a question, but Paula still shook her head. Artemis shut her eyes. “Or…or use my hands. Or arms.”
“No. Everything under your shoulders.”
Artemis nodded, jaw clenched as she struggled not to cry. Her stomach coiled with nausea and, despite the fact that it hurt, the sensation of feeling something in the center of her body was reassuring, in a way. “Is there any way I…?”
“Possibly,” the nurse answered as she followed M’gann into the room. She began checking over Artemis’s vitals, her hands stereotypically cold in the sterile environment of the hospital. “You might be able to overcome some of the paralysis with physical therapy.”
Artemis both appreciated and despised the way the woman talked so nonchalantly about her being paralyzed; while it was nice to be treated like a person, she kind of wished she could go on being oblivious for just a little longer. “Only some of it?” she found herself saying.
The nurse gave her a sad look, almost pitying, and that made Artemis’s heckles rise. “Unfortunately, yes. The damage to your spine was too extensive for us to ever expect you to regain the use of your legs. However-”
“Could you maybe stop talking?” Paula snapped, her knuckles white from clutching the armrests of her wheelchair so tightly. “My daughter just woke up out of unconsciousness and you can’t be a little sympathetic to her? What kind of professional-”
“Mom.”
Paula swallowed her anger and glanced to her daughter, whose eyes were teary and filled with irritation. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
The nurse, looking a tad startled at the outburst, finished jotting down notes on Artemis’s clip board and stepped back, folding her hands behind her back. “At any rate,” she said softly, “now that you’re awake, we can better monitor your progression, and once we’ve made sure you’re out of immediate danger, you can go home.”
“How long?”
She frowned, studying Artemis. “Within a couple of days, I would think. The doctor comes in at nine, so I’ll have the morning nurse on duty send him your way. In the meantime, I’ll be outside at the desk if you need anything.” The nurse looked to M’gann and Paula. “The cafeteria snack bar is open 24 hours if you get hungry.”
“We’re well aware,” Paula muttered.
The nurse nodded and left with a quick turn of the heel, and Artemis shot her mother a glare. “I actually wanted to know what was wrong with me. You don’t need to treat me like…like some delicate flower!”
Paula winced, glancing away, and M’gann put a hand on Artemis’s shoulder. “Artemis, maybe we should…maybe we should talk. Alone,” she whispered, glancing to Paula.
Artemis thought for sure that her mother would snap, but instead she just nodded politely to M’gann and wheeled out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. “When did you two get so chummy?” she grumbled.
M’gann gave a soft chuckle and sank down onto the side of the hospital bed, lifting her hand and tucking a strand of Artemis’s loose hair behind one ear. “We’ve just…spent a lot of time together the last few days. That’s all.”
Artemis nodded and leaned her cheek into M’gann’s touch, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “The others?”
M’gann understood and shifted a little, drawing a knee up under her so that she could twist to face her girlfriend a little better. “They’re okay. Robin…Robin’s been beating himself up pretty bad. And um…your cover. Batman tried his best, but…”
Artemis’s heart sank. “People know.”
“Kind of?” M’gann tried. “I mean…it’s only gotten out to the immediate public, like Gotham? And Batman has said that if it goes further he’ll personally hunt down and make whoever spilled it disappear. He’s a pretty frightening man when he’s protecting people he cares about.”
With a sudden shock of warmth curling in her chest, Artemis realized she was talking about her. “Oh. Um…”
She ducked her head, cheeks flushing, and left another kiss to M’gann’s hand. “You said Robin…?”
“Yeah. He thinks it’s his fault you got hurt.”
Artemis would have agreed if she hadn’t recognized what a stubborn person she was. It was her own fault, and she knew that. She didn’t want Robin blaming himself for something that was equal parts her fault for participating in, and she reminded herself to tell him that the next time she saw him. “What about everyone else?”
M’gann tilted her head thoughtfully, gazing up at the ceiling. “Well…Roy decided to come back temporarily until you got out of rehab or decided to join back up, just so we wouldn’t be down more than one person.”
“One per…how long have you been here?” Artemis demanded.
M’gann smiled sheepishly. “Since they brought you in. I haven’t left the building.”
Artemis wanted to slap her, she really did, in a playful way, but of course her arm couldn’t move, and it set off a whole other round of panic in her mind. “Keep talking,” she whispered. “Please.”
M’gann didn’t ask, just started listing off all the wacky things Wally had been doing over the last few days, the peanut butter jar he had gotten stuck permanently to the ceiling, the jello he had stolen from the lunch cart in the hospital, his slip-and-slide incident with Aqualad on the training deck that Robin had filmed for her.
She kept talking, kept telling stories, leaving little kisses and strokes of her fingers along Artemis’s face and neck and collarbone, and eventually Artemis found herself relaxed, calmer, her head tilting into M’gann’s hand more heavily and her eyes slipping shut.
~~
Artemis went home four days later, M’gann pushing her wheelchair into the house and grinning when she gasped out loud, utterly floored.
The two story home, which had previously had only a lift because of Paula’s ability to use her upper body, was now equipped with an elevator. Counters had been lowered, a new stove put in, and shelving units made more accessible. The carpet had been replaced with hardwood and tile, and a tiny little Roomba scooted around the living room, putting between corners with a little red mask on its top.
“How…? Who??”
M’gann laughed in delight, getting to see Paula and Artemis’s reactions at the same time. “Batman. Except the Roomba. That was Wally and Robin. The mask was Wally’s idea.”
“Of course it was. How did Batman…?”
She would have gestured if she could, but instead had to rely on tilting her head in the general direction of the whole house. M’gann shrugged, just as baffled. “Honestly I don’t know. Apparently he’s ‘filthy rich,’ as Wally put it.”
Artemis shook her head in disbelief. “He did…all this?”
“Yup. I helped with your room though.”
Artemis twisted her neck around to stare up at her. “My…room?”
M’gann grinned and pushed Artemis forwards without a word, Paula close behind and staring at everything in awe. When she got to Artemis’s room, she found that, aside from the handle on the door being moved a little lower, there was a large pad next to the door. “What-?”
M’gann pushed her in front of it and a green light scanned over Artemis. “Artemis. Confirmed.”
The door clicked open and swung inwards silently, leaving Artemis’s jaw to drop. “He got me a scanner?”
“That’s not all.”
Sure enough, inside the room had been transformed in too many ways to count. Her bed was now equipped with little robot hands at the bottom that, when commanded, would make the bed for her. The bookshelves had the same system, along with a catalog. The books were perfectly ordered by the author’s last name and series, and with a simple reading of the name of the book she wanted, it would pull one down and set the book into a contraption that could turn pages for her.
The dresser and closet folded and put away and pulled out clothing for her, organized by color and numbers. M’gann wheeled her over, cleared her throat, and said, “Green four, please.”
The closet whirred and spun and in a moment a green, forested cardigan was being handed out. M’gann grabbed it and draped it over Artemis’s shoulders with a grin.
Even through her smile, Artemis was cringing inside. She appreciated Batman for all of this, she did. But it was too much. Too much money, too much effort, too little freedom.
She couldn’t even put on a damn cardigan without help. How was she supposed to shower, or use the bathroom or shave or-
Her breath hitched and everything around her came to a screeching standstill, like sound had just completely stopped. M’gann was still chattering on with Paula, oblivious, and for a moment Artemis couldn’t have talked to her anyway.
She couldn’t shoot.
She couldn’t work alongside the Green Arrow, or Batman or Canary or Captain Marvel…or any of her teammates again. She was off the team, unless she could get this therapy to work for her. She couldn’t shoot or run or fight or even put on a goddamn sock on her own.
Her fist would have slammed into the wall if she could just fucking move it but she couldn’t and she wanted to, so badly, she wanted to throw a punch and feel it connect and feel the pain ricochet up her arm and into her teeth and bones and she wanted the bruises after and she wanted her bow she wanted her arrows she needed to-
A soft pair of lips on her left eye brought her back to the present, where M’gann was kneeling in front of her, peppering kisses gently across her face, eyebrows knitted in worry and hands resting over Artemis’s wrists, practically hovering.
She still looked human, Artemis noted, with white skin and freckles and her “Hello Megan” cut that really should have gone out of style in the nineties. She focused on that, the terrible haircut that she had teased her for repeatedly, and shut her eyes for just a moment to orient herself. “I’m…”
“It’s okay. It’s just us, you’re okay.”
She glanced to the side and sure enough, her mother had vanished, most likely at M’gann’s request. She looked back to her girlfriend, still in the pale pink t-shirt and khaki shorts that she had been in when they arrived, but her skin back to its usual color, an oddly comforting color. Artemis tilted her head forward and leaned her forehead against M’gann’s collarbone, taking a shaky breath.
M’gann’s hand trailed over her back carefully, but below the shoulder blades she couldn’t feel it, and after her first whimper the Martian kept it above them, tracing circles into her skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She stilled her hand and pulled back a little to observe Artemis, eyebrows furrowed. “What for?”
Artemis took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” M’gann pleaded, kneeling and pressing her hands gently to either side of Artemis’s face. “I mean…I know, but I just…”
She trailed off, glancing down and to the side, and Artemis swallowed. “I can’t…I can’t use my bow.”
M’gann looked back up, eyes softening in realization. “Oh. Oh, honey.”
The tears clouded then, at the tone in her voice, and Artemis struggled to keep them at bay. “I j-just…I’m s-so useless. I c-can’t do anything on my own.”
“Kiss me.”
Artemis shuddered, lifting her gaze to M’gann’s in confusion. “What?” she managed.
M’gann shifted, swinging a leg over Artemis’s lap delicately and straddling her, arms twining around the teen’s neck. “Kiss me,” she repeated.
Artemis hesitated, but when M’gann didn’t move she tilted her head forwards, stretching her neck until their lips collided. Only then did M’gann move, her eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting, fingers lifting to curl in Artemis’s loose hair. She pressed closer, but never took the lead from Artemis, let her control the speed, the pace, the tension, eventually sliding her hands down to cup her face and brush away the tears that had slipped out at some point. She pulled back, a soft smile on her face, and Artemis gulped. “What-?”
“You did that on your own,” M’gann pointed out. “I may have asked you to, but you initiated the actual contact. You can still speak and breathe and think and love, and those are the best parts of you.”
Artemis choked on her words and dipped her head down, pressing their foreheads together. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay. Thank you.”
M’gann pressed a gentle kiss to her nose and leaned back. “You wanna try physical therapy? See if it does anything?”
Artemis gave a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
~~
She did not like physical therapy. Pain and torture, her mother had called it. After having actually been tortured before, Artemis was certain she could handle it.
She was so very wrong.
Even though she couldn’t feel below her shoulders, she still found every part of her that could feel aching with irritation after every single session that she went through. And the worst part was that it was all absolutely useless.
Shoulder lifts, head and neck rolls, different exercises that she hadn’t done since the week before her accident while training with Oliver-they all hurt, and not just physically.
Every time she failed to lift a finger, failed to twitch her toes, turn her wrist, she felt worse and worse. It felt more like she was failing her body rather than her body failing her, and with every single failure, her motivation to keep going fell.
She skipped one day, on the excuse that she didn’t feel well.
After that, it was easy to stop going, to use her touchless phone to call in and cancel all future appointments, easy, for once, to throw Batman’s money away.
She huffed.
Batman.
She refused to let anyone on the team visit aside from M’gann and Oliver. Roy had tried to stop by, as had Wally and Robin, and she had told her mother to turn them away. As much as it hurt, she couldn’t deal with her teammates seeing her like this.
Useless.
Artemis gazed out the window for a while before turning her chair around and rolling to the door. Another gift from Batman: a wheelchair that operated under mind power alone. She had been afraid she would have to force people to wheel her around her whole life, or worse, use one of those weird straw operated chairs that the physical therapists had spoken so highly of.
But no, waiting for her the third day home had been this wheelchair. It was sleek and silver and looked really comfortable, though she couldn’t exactly tell. The doctor had told her eventually that she would regain at least the sensation of touch in her torso, but that would most likely be it. So for now, she could only assume that the chair was nice to sit on.
She appreciated the gift, she did. She knew it was the dark knight’s way of saying he cared about her. She just wished it wasn’t such an expensive way.
She took the voice operated elevator downstairs and left without saying anything to her mother, who had been getting little sleep the last few weeks. M’gann was at cheer practice; she had wanted to quit to stay with Artemis, but she refused to be a burden on her girlfriend, to take away from her actual life, so she had told her to go and have fun.
She both regretted it and was happy about it.
The streets were quiet at this hour, everyone either at work, home, or after school activities, and she was happy about that too. Less people to stare, to look at her with pity or irritation when she took too long to move.
Her mental fists curled and she took a deep breath, wheeling herself to the edge of the sidewalk so people could pass if they needed to.
Stay calm, she told herself. Breathe.
She found that she couldn’t, embarrassingly, and so instead she ducked her head and pushed herself into an alcove, not quite large enough to be an alley but just large enough for her to be out of sight. Her shoulders quivered and her mental fingers tightened around the armrests of her wheelchair, and god what she would give to just clench her fists, to just kick something, punch the wall, stop feeling so pathetic.
The panic built up in her chest, rising like a tide in a storm, and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to burst into grotesque sobs.
Hands gripped her cheeks, not the gentle, smooth touch of M’gann, but the rough calluses of someone who had spent their life fighting with their fists, and she looked up through blurred vision to see Robin standing there, hair tosseled in the wind and sunglasses on, but a Gotham Academy uniform giving him away more than anything ever had.
She hadn’t seen him since the accident, and suddenly she realized how much she had missed him, how much she missed all of them, and the tears came harder now, because she just wanted to hug him as hard as possible.
He had taken off the glasses at some point, piercing blue eyes, familiar eyes, gazing at her with concern, but not pity, never pity, and she took a couple of breaths, trying to stop the needles in her lungs and focus on his words. His hands hadn’t strayed from her face except to remove the lenses, and they caught the tears before they could fall.
“Do you want me to call M’gann?” she could finally hear him saying.
She managed to shake her head. “N-No. P-Practice. L-Leave her alone.”
Robin-Dick, she thought, the name coming unbidden, the teens carefree face bouncing around the school halls and the news reports on Bruce Wayne-nodded, and situated himself better on the pavement, his shoes shifting on the gravel and his good pants getting scuffed in the dirt. His hands slid from her face and moved to rest on her hands, thumbs rubbing over the skin in unfeeling circles.
That almost broke her again, but she steadied herself, calmed down, kept her eyes on the teen in front of her, his chest, the way it rose and fell steadily. “What are you doing here?” she croaked after a moment.
Dick managed a smile. “Can’t come visit?”
“Batman’ll kill you.”
He glanced down at his uniform, the sunglasses that were in his coat pocket, and shrugged. “Don’t really care. Bruce will get it. I think he wanted to tell you too, after everything. Just so you felt like you had someone.”
Dick looked up at her again, gaze soft. “We miss you.”
Her throat bobbed at the sentiment that rested in his words. “I miss you guys too.”
“You could…come back, you know.”
“And do what?” she spat, nastier than she had intended. “Roll around like the pathetic cripple I am? Get in the way? I can’t fight anymore, I’m absolutely useless to the team, so why the hell would I come back?”
Dick’s eyebrows furrowed and he pulled away, settling his hands against his knees while still balancing in his squatted position on the ground. She had always envied his balance. “You’re not useless, Artemis.”
“I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself, Dick.”
He flinched and glanced away, his throat jumping as he swallowed. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
Something about the way he said it slapped her back into reality and she grimaced, pursing her lips together and looking up at the sky. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured.
She could feel him looking at her, but she kept her gaze firmly up. “I feel like it is. And I…I want to help. But I don’t know how.”
He sounded angry, at himself, maybe, at the world, she didn’t know. She could understand that. She had felt the same way lately. They were both so used to helping, so good at it, that not knowing what to do was like a punch in the gut. She couldn’t do anything anymore, couldn’t even help herself, and Dick…this wasn’t something he could fix with hacking or a hug or a bad joke that Wally initiated.
This was real life, and it absolutely sucked.
“I don’t blame you,” she found herself saying. She licked her lips, continuing before he could answer and studying the brickwork on the alley walls like it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. “For any of this. I chose to goof off with you, to get on a different rock. I didn’t check the water first, and I should have. So I need…I need you to stop blaming yourself, okay?”
Her voice cracked and she looked back down at him, the way his eyes watered, and it struck her again how many times she had seen his eyes and just not known. He cleared his throat like an old man, fist lifted to his throat and gaze darting away for a moment. “Can I um…can I hug you?”
She managed a smile at that and Dick stood, leaned down, and gathered her firmly in his arms, hand pressed just between her shoulder blades and the other one cupping her head, fingers digging a little into her hair, like he was reassuring himself that she was still there. When he pulled back, he seemed embarrassed, a hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. “Want me to take you home?” he asked.
Artemis licked her lips and glanced out of the alley, down into the streets, and her mental hands wrung themselves together. “Actually um…could you…I’d rather…”
She looked up at him pleadingly, hoping he’d get it, and he nodded, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. My place or the cave?”
“Your place,” she said instantly. “I’m not…ready.”
He looked like he understood and pulled out his cellphone, pressing a number on speed dial and lifting it to his ear. “Alfred. Yeah, can you pick me up?” He paused, listening, and then nodded. “Yeah, I’m there….yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
He hung up the phone and gestured ahead of him, slipping his sunglasses back on. He suddenly looked like Robin again, with just a simple pair of blacked out eyeglasses, and it was almost laughable how obvious it all was. She pushed the chair forward, feeling self-conscious until Robin’s hands came to rest on the back of it and he started pushing. “Does it work okay?” he asked.
“The chair?”
He hummed an affirmative and turned them onto the street, bypassing a dog walker and heading towards the park. She shrugged, mentally tapping her fingers on the arms of the chair. “Yeah. I mean, you and Batman designed it. No way it wouldn’t work.”
Dick snorted. “Yeah right. If you had seen my first attempt at tech, you would be laughing your ass off. It was the most underwhelming thing I’ve ever developed.”
“Wow. Underwhelmed. You must have been really unimpressed with yourself.”
He snickered at that and she felt herself relaxing. Aside from M’gann, she hadn’t felt this relaxed around anyone for weeks. It was relieving, in a way, because she felt like she was burdening her girlfriend with the constant alone time. M’gann never seemed to care, but it still weighed on Artemis every second they weren’t together. Like, would she rather they take a break? Stop seeing one another for a while?
“Hey. ‘Mis. You good?”
She glanced up at Dick, noting momentarily that they were situated near the parking lot of the park, under the shade of a tree, and nodded. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”
He looked like he didn’t like that answer but didn’t press, for which she was grateful. His head tilted towards the lot. “Alfred just pulled in, if you’re good to go.”
Artemis found the limo quickly, eyes widening. “You have a—of course you have a limo. I shouldn’t be surprised. How will I…?”
Robin pursed his lips. “Uh…I can lift you? Or if you’re not cool with that, Alfred can, or I can call M’gann and-”
“Dick.”
He managed a weak grin and started rolling her over to where an older man with a thin mustache and a suit was waiting for them. “Sorry.”
She smiled and nodded to who she assumed was Alfred, watching as he opened the door to the backseat. With her voiced permission, Dick slid his arms under her and pulled her from the chair, grip firm as he settled her back into the seat. Alfred put the chair into the trunk while he strapped her in and then he scurried around to the other side, sliding into the seat next to her and shooting her a grin. “Hey Alfred. Ice cream before we go home?”
Alfred glanced at them in the rearview, his face unamused but his eyes twinkling. “And what exactly would Master Bruce think of ice cream for an after school snack, young man?”
Dick smirked. “If we get him a chocolate dipped twist he won’t give two-”
“Point, Master Dick.”
He glanced at Artemis. “Want anything?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, brain already working through the options that would be easiest for Robin to feed her. “Umm…strawberry milkshake?”
“Booorrrriinnnnggg. Come on, where’s the fun in that?”
Her lips quivered in an unwarranted smile. “Okay. What would you suggest, then?”
Dick tapped his chin, squinting through the window as they pulled up to the drive through. “I’m thinkinnnngggg…mocha. Latte. Milkshake. Yeah. That’s good.”
The grin appeared full force and she ducked her head in a nod. Alfred ordered for them, getting Dick the same milkshake, and, to her surprise, got a vanilla cone for himself. He caught her shocked look in the mirror and winked. “Can’t let the kids have all the fun,” he pointed out, handing back the milkshakes to Dick.
The teen snorted. “I don’t think Bruce counts as a kid.”
“When you’re my age, Master Dick, everyone is a kid.”
“Fair.”
Artemis couldn’t help but grin again, even as Dick held out the milkshake for her to take a drink. Somehow, it felt less burdensome than before.
~~
Bruce Wayne was almost more intimidating than Batman, especially once you knew that he was Batman. The warm smile and delighted yelp at ice cream felt like a disguise for a man who would throw down with the nearest end table if it so much as caught his ankle.
He didn’t seem mad that Dick had told her, for which she was relieved. He even told them to invite M’gann over once her practice was over.
“Sure she knows anyway,” Dick muttered, stirring his soupy milkshake with the straw and scowling into the cup. “She can read minds.”
Bruce snorted and went back to his ice cream while Dick texted M’gann and Artemis gazed around the living room, in awe of it’s massive size and also feeling slightly disoriented.
“So, Artemis,” Bruce started, catching a drip of ice cream with his tongue. “How does the chair work?”
It took her a moment to answer; it was surreal seeing Batman in this kind of situation. “Uh…it works really well. Thank you. You really didn’t have to-”
Bruce held up a hand to stop her, eyebrows furrowing. “None of that. The least I could do, for someone who’s put herself in danger for the good of the team before.”
She didn’t miss the underlying implication of “and my son,” but before she could say anything else the doorbell rang and Alfred vanished so fast that Artemis would swear he was related to Wally. He came back with M’gann in tow, her schoolbag slung over her shoulder and her wide eyes taking in the house around her. Artemis didn’t blame the girl; the mansion was impressive.
Her gaze lit on Artemis and she brightened, skipping over to the girl and pulling out the chair on the other side of her, planting a kiss on her cheek before sitting. Alfred’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but he said nothing, just started wiping down his portion of the table. “You guys got ice cream without me? Lame.”
Artemis gave a small smile and nodded to the milkshake in front of her. “All yours.”
M’gann picked it up, took a sip, and instantly made a face. “It’s warm! You’re awful!”
Dick started cackling, a hand clapped over his mouth to hide the delight, and Bruce’s eyes glittered with mirth as he hid behind his ever melting cone. Artemis couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of her throat, and eventually M’gann joined in, nudging her girlfriend in the arm and handing off the worthless milkshake to Alfred, who was hiding his own smile.
She couldn’t quite remember the last time she had laughed so hard.
~~
Going back to school would have been a hundred times harder without Dick Grayson at her side.
He picked her up from her house in his limo, of course he did, and on the way there yammered on and on about how such-and-such person had beat up someone, and how they had gotten suspended, and how if he had just flipped the guy he would have been fine. By the time they pulled up to the school, Artemis was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
The second she laid eyes on the flagpole, on the kids, the building, though, she froze. Her mind flashed back to the text M’gann had sent her this morning, wishing her luck and kisses, but the dawning realization that she was about to go back to a school as someone completely different was hard hitting.
“Hey.”
She glanced over at Dick, who was watching her carefully. His hair was combed back, bowtie done up perfectly, and for a moment she forgot that he was Robin. “You good?”
“I…I don’t know,” she admitted. “Could we…do this somewhere else?”
“This,” of course, being Alfred lifting her into the chair in front of several dozen onlookers.
Dick’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he whispered. “Nothing. I’m here, and that’s all that matters. M’gann will be here after school waiting for you, and she matters even more than me.”
He said it with a light grin, a tease, and Artemis allowed a nervous laugh to spill out. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go.”
Alfred opened the door, Dick gave her shoulder one last squeeze, and the man pulled her into the chair. No one stared. No one watched. They only looked up when Dick started wheeling her across the courtyard, and even then it was only cursory glances.
A dark haired girl came trotting over, one that Artemis recognized as Barbara Gordon, and she gave the two of them a bright smile. “Artemis. Glad to see you again.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Have we…met?”
Dick’s eyes twinkled suspiciously. “Barbara’s in a couple of your classes. I asked her last night if she’d help you out. Since, you know, I’m like two years younger than you and can’t really skip.”
“Baby,” Barbara teased.
Dick stuck his tongue out at her, and Artemis smiled. School. She could handle school. At the moment, if she was being honest, she felt like she could handle almost anything.
~~
“You ready for this?” M’gann asked, watching as Dick flashed out of existence in the tube network.
Her mental fingers clutched the arms of the wheelchair. Artemis had found that imagining mental hands helped her with the reality of not having any, and had started picturing them any time she got too stressed or nervous. She had feeling back in her arms, so the cold metal of the chair was prominent in her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
M’gann squeezed her shoulders. “You’ll be okay,” she promised, leaning around the chair and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “They’re your friends, and they miss you, ‘Mis.”
She missed them too. It had been nearly a month since the accident now, and aside from M’gann, Dick, Oliver, Bruce, and a surprisingly teary visit from Captain Marvel, she still hadn’t seen anyone. “Is Robin warning them?”
“You know he’s not. He doesn’t want to get their hopes up in case you don’t show.”
Mental fists clenched against the arms of the chair. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go. Before you, or I’ll lose my nerve.”
She wheeled herself into the booth and M’gann shut the curtain for her, keeping an eye out for pedestrians.
Artemis was half afraid that the system would no longer recognized her, but when the warm light scanned over her and she heard, “Artemis: B07” emit from the speakers, along with the tingling feeling that was being transported, her whole body relaxed.
After she blinked the spots out of her eyes, the first thing she saw was Wally literally zipping over, bouncing around her excitedly and talking at what was probably six thousand words a minute, a grin a mile wide on his face. She bit back her own smile and willed the chair forward to give M’gann room. “Wally. I missed you too.”
Her voice cracked and she cursed it, but then he was hugging her and he smelled like warm cookies and electricity, such a familiar smell that she couldn’t help but tuck her nose into his shoulder and shut her eyes for a moment.
M’gann’s name rang out through the room and a moment later she was slapping Wally away playfully. “Up bup bup. Let me have my girlfriend back.”
Wally stuck his tongue out at the Martian and flew off again, coming back a literal second later with a tray of cookies in his hands. “I didn’t actually know you were coming,” he admitted. “But me and Zatanna just made cookies so here, have some!”
Artemis quirked an eyebrow, glancing down at the tray contemplatively and nodding to the one on the far left that appeared the least charred. How a magician and a speedster could leave cookies in too long was beyond her.
M’gann grabbed it for her, bypassing one herself, and held it absentmindedly for Artemis to munch on while they ventured into the kitchen, where Zatanna and Aqualad were busying themselves with dishes and the slightly smoking oven.
Zatanna literally squeaked when she saw her, dropping her oven mitt in favor of darting over and squeezing the life out of Artemis’s lungs. M’gann had to pull her cookie back, laughter bubbling from her lips, and then Artemis was surrounded, Aqualad clapping her on the shoulder and Zatanna and Wally bouncing all around her in glee and Superboy giving her a small smile and a squeeze to the shoulder.
Dick sidled up to them and gave M’gann a side glance. “She still nervous?” he asked softly, adjusting his glasses.
M’gann chuckled, crossing her arms and biting the cookie absentmindedly. “I think she’ll be okay now.”
Wally absolutely a hundred percent insisted on taking Artemis for a grand tour of the new video game room (gaming room, Aqualad had corrected, following them out) that Batman had permitted, complete with foosball, ping pong, and even trivia.
“For all your trivia-ing needs!” he proclaimed as he wheeled her out of the room.
Zatanna snorted and left with Aqualad, probably to make sure Wally didn’t overwhelm her, and M’gann turned to cleaning the abandoned dishes.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Dick pointed out. “None of them are yours.”
She shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
Robin bit his lip, glancing to the door. “Will she be okay? You know…being here? Does she still feel…?”
“Useless?” M’gann supplied, hesitating with the sponge in one hand and a soapy plate in the other. “I don’t know. I think sometimes she does, but she just doesn’t want to worry me, so she doesn’t say anything. Being here, seeing you guys…I’m sure it’s great for her right now. But later?”
She shook her head and scrubbed furiously at a spot on the plate, though Dick was certain there was nothing there. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “She might feel bad later, like she can’t do anything for the team.”
Robin frowned, taking the dish from her and drying it thoughtfully while M’gann went off on another plate. “Couldn’t she, though?”
M’gann pursed her lips. “She doesn’t think so. I told her that we absolutely need her, especially for support, but-”
“Why doesn’t she just…give intel and help us out from here on missions?”
They both looked up, having forgotten that Connor was in the room. Superboy leaned on the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked. Seeing their looks, he shrugged. “She’s intelligent. Plus, most of her family is criminal. She could really be helpful with them especially. The computers are already voice activated down here.”
Robin looked impressed. “You’re right,” he realized.
“Don’t sound so impressed,” Connor grumbled.
He waved him off. “You know that isn’t what I meant. M’gann, would she-?”
“Maybe,” M’gann said, a twinkle in her eyes as she finally stopped attacking the dishes and started thinking. “It’s worth a try.”
~~
Two weeks later found Artemis positioned next to Batman while he directed the team on their upcoming mission. She felt a little uncomfortable in her new outfit, a solid black suit with no color other than a simple, small, green arrow emblazoned over the left breast, but the way M’gann was looking at her, with such pride and delight, made the awkwardness worth it.
Batman dismissed the team and M’gann darted up to her, kissing her quickly and cupping her face in her hands. “You’re gonna do amazing, babe,” she declared. “And after this is all done, we’re going for pizza.”
She kissed her again and sprinted off before Batman could scold her for holding up the team, and the dark knight turned his attention to her. “You ready to do this on your own?”
“How…on my own are we talking?” Artemis asked nervously, eyes scouring the information on the screen in front of her.
Batman tilted his head to the lounge. “I’ll be right there, watching if you need help. But this is a run for you. With you manning the station, Captain Marvel and I can focus our attention on our own cities instead of the team. Plus, they’ll actually listen to you,” he muttered.
Artemis laughed at that, shaking her head. “Oh I doubt that. Wally especially.”
Batman smirked and pulled the screen down to a slightly lower level, where she could see it better. “I know you’ll do great, Artemis. You won’t need me.”
He squeezed her shoulder and nodded at her. “You’re capable of doing this.”
His footsteps receded and Artemis took a deep breath. The comm in her ear switched on when she thought about it, the chatter of the team familiar, calming. She scanned the information up, their location, and squinted at one particular section of the map. It grew, revealing almost twenty blinking red dots in the far corner of the warehouse they were headed for.
“Hey guys, cut the chatter,” she teased into her mic.
“Whatcha gonna do if I don’t?” Wally retorted.
Artemis bit back her smile. “Probably tell everyone about that time you got stuck in the-”
“OKAY, EVERYONE LISTEN TO ARTEMIS SHUT UP.”
Hiding the smile grew harder, but she still adopted a serious tone. “When you get to the warehouse complex, the one in the far southwest lot has about seventeen mercenaries in it. That’s where you’ll find the stolen money. The rest of the complex is completely abandoned except for a single maintenance worker in the South quadrant.”
“Copy,” Robin murmured. “ETA is about three minutes.”
She skimmed the rest of the intel, matching up points in the notes with the ones on the map. “This isn’t all the men though. Computer, pan out.”
The computer did just that, pulling back to show the surrounding forest. Sure enough, a dozen more red dots flickered into life, all grouped around the South West area. “Dozen more in the woods surrounding the warehouse you want. Probably armed.”
“Copy,” Robin repeated. “Miss M, you and Wally take those guys. Aqualad, Zatanna, Superboy and I got the ones inside with the money. Good work, ‘Mis.”
“She needs a code name,” M’gann piped up.
Artemis flushed and ducked her head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks though.”
“Aw come on!” Wally protested. “It’d be fun! Like…Overwatch, or something!”
“Taken,” the entire team chorused.
“I was just giving an example.”
“We can discuss Artemis’s potential code name when we get back,” Aqualad said, amusement evident in his voice. “For now, we should focus on the information she has given us and retrieve the stolen money.”
“We’re here,” M’gann informed her.
“Okay. Radio silence until you’re out of stealth,” Artemis declared. “Over.”
They clicked off the comms and Artemis leaned heavily in her wheelchair, pressing a mental hand to her forehead and grinning. Batman appeared next to hera, startling her half to death, and when she looked up he had a small smile on his face. “You did well.”
“Yeah, well…thanks. Had a good teacher.”
Batman huffed and glanced up at the progress on screen, hand never leaving Artemis’s shoulder. She smiled, ducked her head, and swallowed the lump in her throat.
It was far from perfect, the situation; but it was pretty damn good.
