Disclaimer- Do not own Young Justice or any of it's characters.

So, this is my first multi-chaptered fic that is completely and 100% done BEFORE I start posting it! I'm thinking every Friday or so will be the update days. This fic is strong T, and it's really long and probably pretty crappy but whatever!

I want to thank my best broski IronicVeghead for helping me through this fic every step of the way, and keeping my ass on it so I wouldn't just leave it in the dust. I also want to tell you all she has a wonderful piece of fanart for this first chapter on her deviantart page under the same name of IronicVeghead. There is a link in my profile.

This is an AU.

Please enjoy the first chapter!


Chapter length: 6,066 words


Wally West was having one of those days where the world was completely against his entire existence.

It seemed like he had those a lot; three times a week and at least once on the weekends. Maybe it had something to do with how he tried to live his life a little too fast, or at least that's what Dick was always telling him

Personally he chalked it up to a shitty alarm clock, his inability to do his laundry at the beginning of each week (his mom had always told him laundry would be his downfall when he moved out), and the fact that he had left his umbrella at Dick's.

Which, of course, meant that Mother Nature had decided to dump about ten metric shit tons of water onto the streets of Gotham City that day. All day. And throw in some lightning and thunder, too.

Most of these things Wally could shrug off fairly easily with one simple thought: food. A bad start to the day could be remedied by sinking his teeth into a delicious, piping hot jelly filled donut from Hello! Megan. It was like warm, gooey happiness melted perfectly into a ball of pastry, and the only thing that made it even better was having it handed to you over the counter by the incredibly chipper, dimple cheeked redhead, Megan, who ran the place. With her moody boyfriend narrowing his eyes dangerously in the background.

Megan had absolutely nothing to do with Wally's ritual visits to the place, though. Conner was definitely paranoid.

As it was, though, Wally's day was further ruined because his stupid late alarm clock allowed him for no time to stop at the bakery. Which was an absolute travesty as far as he was concerned.

No food, no smiling Megan.

Good thing he had his beloved science to look forward to.

Science that turned out to involve: a broken coffee maker (not even coffee to tide his protesting stomach until lunch); some pretty massive paperwork that he had not been prepared for; a few dozen broken beakers courtesy of the elbow of the clumsy over-shadowing college student who also happened to be his dweeb cousin; and spilling some chemicals all over his lab coat. Luckily they weren't anything volatile, but still.

Did he seem like the kind of guy that was going to spend hours getting that stain out of his laundry with a heavy duty detergent stick?

The rain poured down all day long, pattering against the building, thunder occasionally shaking the panes. Normally something like the weather could never get Wally's mood down, but he was pretty sure the no food thing had been the final straw, the one that sent him over the edge into bitter disgust with the day.

He was one hundred percent done with his life by the time it was over. His stomach was digesting itself from the inside out as he traipsed home in the rain and the dark, creating a barrier between himself and the insistent water with the umbrella he'd been forced to borrow from his beaker breaker of a cousin.

Everyone he walked passed was hunched over, boots slapping quickly along the paths.

Lightning brightened his vision every so often, spurring him to move a little faster towards Bibbo's diner at the end of the block. It was the closest food joint near the Star Labs building he worked in and one of his regular hang outs. He was planning on ordering about ten cheeseburgers, and be damned with the looks he would probably get from confused patrons.

He'd show the world what he thought about today by eating twice his own body weight in greasy food.

Wally made it to the end of the block without being struck by lightning, which on a day like this he considered quite a feat even with the very low probability of something like that actually happening. He stood under the awning of Bibbo's, snapping his umbrella closed and shaking all the water out of it. He could already feel himself perk up majorly at the delicious smells wafting through the door.

His head moved idly as he gathered the rain-soaked material to secure it shut. Through the rain, he could barely make out the buildings, each looking more and more dilapidated and disused the further away from Bibbo's. It was kind of like the inside of Wally's fridge, where the out of date food got pushed into the back to make way for the new. He felt like if he stepped off the edge of the sidewalk, it would be like stepping challengingly over a dividing line made out of invisible duct tape.

He was looking at the slums. Or at least, one of the slums. Probably the most notorious one, if all the stories Dick told from this area were to be believed. It made Wally shake his head in pity; how could the city have let it's crime rate become so out of control, that even it's arguably massive police force couldn't put a stop to it?

Maybe I should have become a cop, Wally mused, but dismissed it just as quickly because there was no way in hell he was abandoning his science. As appealing as putting his life on the line for others safety was, he was more than comfortable helping keep people safe in a more scientific fashion from a lab.

With that thought, Wally reached for the handle on the diner's glass door.

That's when he heard the gun shots.

Wally wasn't a born Gothamite, having moved from the Midwest, but he'd learned very early on that gunshots in Gotham City were about as normal as breathing air.

It was sad to say, but most pedestrians had learned to largely ignore the noise and continue on their way. The police would take care of it, after all, and there was no need to endanger one's life by getting involved.

The redhead, however, always paused in concern. The sound of gun fire would set his blood pumping in his veins, making him feel like he needed to be somewhere in a flash, doing something for someone. Dick had warned him about that trait, told him that someday it would get him killed if he didn't learn to keep it in check.

But Wally had always held a certain sense of justice, and it was making itself known right in that moment.

The sound of the shot rang in his ears for what felt like an eternity, echoing off the buildings and playing games with his eardrums. As he turned his head toward the slums where it had undoubtedly emanated from, he could have sworn he caught a swift movement streak across his vision. It was accompanied by the sound of two more shots, and what he may have mistakenly heard as the whining sound of a wounded dog.

Flashes from the guns being shot had drawn his attention to the street opposite Bibbo's, just across the invisible division line that seperated the slums. Wally's fingers curled into his palm, yet he remained remarkably calm as he squinted through the curtains of rain. He made out the silhouette of s broad shouldered individual that an abrupt flash of lightning illuminated. They yelled something harshly, turning and running into the alley.

Then the streets were empty, and and eerie calm settled over Wally. The droplets of rain pattering onto the street were somehow magnified after the racket the shots had caused.

"What the…" he mumbled, hesitating at the door to the diner. His heart was pounding, like he had been an actual participant in the altercation he had just witnessed. He wondered if searching the area would be the right thing to do; he knew it wasn't the sane or safe thing to do, but something that frothed strongly in his gut told him that he would be letting someone down (or die) if he didn't pick his feet up and go check out a block or two.

"Dick's right," Wally whispered, unfurling his umbrella once more. "I'm definitely going to get myself killed."

Somehow he didn't much care. Wally was certified in CPR, and he knew well and good enough how to provide some pretty intense first aid care; that automatically, in his conscience, made him morally obligated to offer up his assistance when and wherever he could. Mary West hadn't raised him any other way than to be there and help when permitted, and he was going to be that way until he was six feet under.

Which could happen within the next few minutes if he wasn't cautious.

There was no one else around, just Wally and his shoes splashing in the steadily rising water, his heart thumping. He used to be a runner in high school, and he still spent a lot of his time going on jogs through the city, but it had been a long time since he'd felt his blood sing in his veins like this, like he'd just finished a 10k.

"Hey!" he called, loud enough that it echoed; the people in the alley on the other side of the street could easily come back at any moment. What had happened to them, anyway? "Hey, is anyone out here? Anyone need some help?"

He stopped just beneath a broken street light, peering into the dark alley he had stopped in front of. It was really hard to hear anything over the pitter patter of rain and the loud, rumbling thunder that shook all the way up into his chest. He almost imagined he heard a dog whining again, but he was positive it was just the weather playing tricks on him.

The scientist lent his ears to his surroundings for quite some time, frowning when no cries for help reached him.

"Hmm…" he wondered, looking this way and that. He shrugged to himself, intent on exploring a little further into the slums before calling it quits.

He had barely taken one step away from the alley when he finally heard something.

Wally was impressed that he even caught the sound above the din of mother nature. It sounded like ragged, pained breaths; it reminded him of a panting animal in fact, but far more human. Uncertainly, he took a step back, peering into the eerie shadows again.

"Anyone in here? If you're hurt, I can get some help," he called. Absently, he felt around in his pocket to make sure he still had his cell phone on him. Luckily, the universe had been nice enough to not curse him into dropping it in the toilet that morning.

A pained moan, followed by a deafening crash of metal was the only thing that answered him. The hairs on the back of Wally's neck raised in alarm; there was definitely someone in there, and it sounded like they weren't in the world's best condition.

Wally didn't even hesitate after that. It was like something switched on inside of himself, blocking out any fear that had been lingering inside of him and spurring him forward like he had a life to save. And he did, he hoped, if he could just act fast enough.

More thunder boomed, followed by a lightning streak that seared his vision and gave him a momentary glimpse of the figure slumped on the ground between the narrow brick walls.

Swallowing thickly, he ran the last few feet and skidded to a stop, regretfully sloshing muddy water over the body. At last he was close enough to distinguish the figure without jagged lightning tearing across the sky above.

The sight made his blood run cold.

It was a woman.

Her bare olive skin, which was all but exposed to the battering elements, was slick with rain. The defined line of her jaw was clenched in terrible pain, and the impossible mane of blonde hair that sprouted from her skull was floating unheeded in the rising water level. His shoe pressed down on some of it where he stood above her, and he quickly pulled his foot away.

What caught his attention more readily than any other detail, however, was the terrifying scarlet that mixed with the water surrounding her shivering body.

A pitiful groan parted her lips, spraying droplets water away from them. One of her eyes opened with great effort, and he could tell she was in some state between consciousness and delirium, judging by the way she had to make great effort to keep the dark iris from rolling up into her skull.

Wally was dumbfounded, but he was at least attentive enough to immediately dig his cell phone out of his pocket and start dialing 911.

"Don't," a voice croaked. Wally looked down, surprised that she had been able to speak to him at all; the shock of it should have robbed her of her voice, but she was doing even more than just speaking. The woman managed to push herself up onto her elbow, reaching out with her other hand like she intended very much to crawl away from him.

"Don't move!" he insisted, bending down to place a hand on her shoulder. She turned rather sharply to look at him, wincing, eyes rolling in their sockets. "I'm calling an ambulance for you, you've been hurt!"

"I… k-know that… mo-... idiot," she hissed, her voice husky and strangled. "Unnnnh," she moaned, clutching at the side of her abdomen with both hands, rolling onto her back. Wally's eyes quickly moved over her body calculatingly; her face, along her neck, across her breasts, her abdomen, which was heaving with labored breaths. He surmised that the wound was hidden from his sight beneath her clasping hands.

Judging from the amount of crimson spilling into the rainwater, it was pretty serious.

"I'm calling for help," he said firmly.

"Please," the woman gasped. He couldn't tell if the water in her eyes was rain or tears. Her clenching hands were slippery with her own blood, making it hard for her to keep them steadily over her wound. "Please… don't call… No hospitals."

"You're insane," Wally insisted, growing desperate. What the hell did she want him to do, then, just let her die on the street? Fat chance.


Wally scowled, then chewed at his bottom lip, casting a glance into the sheeting rain over his shoulder.

He had to get this woman out of the rain, somewhere safe and dry where her wounds could be tended. He would much prefer to call in professionals that stood a better chance at saving her, but had he not risked his life to come over here because he knew a fair deal about first aid himself?

But she was shot. I don't know how to remove a bullet...

It didn't matter, the blonde was already attempting to roll over onto her side so she could move away from his obviously unwanted presence. He had no doubt that if she kept this up, she'd caused herself to bleed out even faster from exertion. Calling an ambulence would just make her exert herself even harder, which was the worst thing she could do for herself if there happened to be a bullet lodged inside her somewhere.

She needed help right the fuck now and Wally was her only option.

Determined, the redhead dropped his umbrella, immediately feeling the fat droplets of water slam into his skin like tiny pinpricks of cold ice. He took his jacket off smoothly, draping it over her body as best he could. The woman watched him with hooded eyes, still sucking in air like she had completed a marathon that included running for her life from a pack of wild dogs.

Wally crouched down in front of her.

"Well if you won't let me get you some help, then I'm at least getting you somewhere safe. I'm going to have to pick you up, and it's not going to feel good at all," he informed her gravely, already preparing himself for it. Infuriatingly enough, she woman let out a small bark of a laugh before crying out and wincing, fingers curling in the undulating skin near her wound. Part of him wanted to peel her palms away and look at it now, but he knew that would do neither of them any good until he had her somewhere dry.

"The hell you are," she wheezed, rolling away from him so that his previously clean jacket fell into the trashy water. Wally scowled at the thing as it washed away down the alley, out onto the street. He'd be mad over that later… assuming she lived for him to be mad at.

Please live, he thought with a lump in his throat.

"You're insane," he yelled over the weather, stressing the word more this time. Setting his jaw decisively and without another word to her, Wally scooped his arms underneath her body and hoisted her up before she could register it. She yelled out in unadulterated pain, writhing in his arms and stuffing her face into his drenched t-shirt. Her teeth bit into a section of bunched up folds to keep herself from screaming again.

"You… asshole," she grinded out at him, teeth still tightly clenched. The woman took one hand off of her wound; for a wild second Wally thought she was going to punch him with her balled up, crimson-stained fist, and recoiled. Instead, she let out a wet groan and placed her palm on his chest, attempting to push herself away from him with no avail. All she left was a bloody handprint. "I can't… put me down…"

"No," Wally said, already turning on his heel to slosh out of the alley. He could feel her slippery skin in his hands; she was very cold, likely to suffer from hypothermia on top of her wound if he didn't get her out of the freezing rain soon.

"Put…" she rasped, more softly, her head resting on his chest. Her body was trying to give out, but she wasn't about to surrender without putting up a hell of a fight with him. "Me down. You really… you really… need to put me… down. Now."

"Let me guess," Wally said airily, walking with close, quick footsteps across the street and onto the sidewalk. "If I know what's good for me, right?"

The rain was coming down harder than ever; there was no one around by this point, most sane people having taken shelter already. Wally felt relief, because he had wondered what sort of scrutinization he would come under toting a severely bleeding, incredibly naked woman in his arms.

Her fingers curled against his chest, a huff of warm breath heating his sopping skin.

"Something like that."

Wally rolled his eyes; unbelievable.

"Who are you?" Wally demanded, irritated by the audacity of the woman in his arms. Which seemed entirely unfair, what with her bleeding all over him, but she had seemed so intent on letting herself perish in the streets that it was getting under his skin. The idea that any human being could think that was the best option for herself was abhorrent to him.

She let out a noise, like she thought the demand was ludicrous. Wally spared her a glance just in time to see her lids drift close, her energy spent. He could tell she was still awake by her steady breathing and by the fact that he wasn't having to work harder to carry her dead weight. He bit his tongue and plowed through the flood waters, figuring it best to let her rest, as long as she wasn't squirming and fighting him anymore.

Miraculously, they made it to Wally's apartment building nearer to the main part of the city without running across any other pedestrians. In any case, if anyone had seen Wally they had paid him no heed; the thought kind of disturbed him, to say the least.

Wally looked down at her as he entered the apartment complex and started climbing the stairs.

Why had she been shot at? Who was she? And more importantly, he wondered about why she was bare to the world, not for any other reason than sheer terror for her. Had she been… taken advantage of? The idea of it made his blood boil and his skin crawl.

"Just hang on, we're almost there," he assured her softly, his sneakers squishing into the carpet. Both of them were leaving a wet trail everywhere they went. They were soaked to the marrow, the two of them the equivalent of a miniature rain cloud swooping down the corridors.

"Mmm…" she answered with a hum, not moving.

Wally fished his keys out and with quite a lot of difficulty managed to get the door open, shut it, and lock it, all without dropping her. He would have to pat himself on the back later for that one, but right now he needed to get her comfortable and search for his first aid supplies. He dropped his keys in the floor somewhere carelessly and softly patted her face with the pruned pads of his fingers.

"You still with me?"

"Unfortunately," she rasped, opening her eyes.

"Speak for yourself," he objected, taking her to the couch. He bent at the knees, low enough that he could re-position a few of the pillows before he lowered her methodically onto the beige cushions.

The jostling pulled a pathetic whimper out of her, followed by the tightest jaw clench he'd ever witnessed. It was a wonder she didn't break her teeth doing that.

The scientist lifted up, taking just a moment to appreciate how much of a mess they both looked. His soaked shirt was stained red, and overall the water was just making the whole situation that much worse. Not only was it getting everywhere because of mixing with the thinner liquid, but it was bound to cause the woman to get an infection if he didn't act fast. He pushed his damp sleeves up and felt like he was preparing for a very complicated surgery.

He hoped not, he only knew how to do so much.

"I'm going to find my first aid supplies, just rest but stay awake, okay?," he said urgently, almost walking away before he remembered two things. One, that she was shivering very noticeably, and two, that she was very naked. He veered off into his bedroom with purpose, where he spent a few minutes digging through his closet for a spare blanket. "Here, we don't want you getting hypothermia," he reasoned, draping the thick material over her body.

"Smells," she murmured, though pressed her nose into it, eyes closed.

"Sorry, that's the best I have," Wally replied. He made sure she was alright for the time being, then went on a trek throughout his little apartment, trying to locate the giant, insanely awesome first aid kit his mother had given him years ago when he left home.

He'd never had much use for it, though he'd taken a few bandaids and maybe some burn ointment packets out on occasion. It was that thought that made him remember it was stashed away in his home lab room.

Duh. The most likely place a Wally West would be to sustain injury. Wally didn't remember ever moving it there, but he suspected Dick had transferred it there at some point. The man sure had a lot of concerns about Wally's lab, but the redhead knew perfectly well how to be safe and responsible with science.

Most of the time.

"Aha!" Wally whispered triumphantly to himself after fishing the container out of the bottom shelf of his white storage cabinet. It had been shoved inside without much finesse, cramping up several beakers that Wally gave up looking for ages ago. He slammed the door shut, green eyes sweeping briefly over the once guest-bedroom, with it's mattress haphazardly shoved into the corner.

Then he was gone, determined to get back to the woman that needed his help.

On his way, Wally grabbed a few towels from the bathroom, and a chair from his kitchen table. He placed it right in front of the couch where she was still trying to keep herself warm, and tried not to notice the blood seeping into the blanket. It spread outward slowly like a virus that would soon overcome the cotton fibers, increasing his sense of urgency tenfold. He was about to ask her if she was alright when she let her head loll over tiredly in his direction.

"Bout time," the woman mumbled.

Wally sat down in the chair. Her teeth chattered.

"You're still cold," he said rather obviously. It was but a few moments for him to grab a portable heater from his bedroom closet. He knew it wouldn't help all that much, but it was the best he could do other than trying to dry her skin off for her. Which made him a little uncomfortable, if he was being honest with himself.

"Here," he said a little loudly, holding up a towel. She just looked at it, eyes unfocusing for a moment. Wally deflated with a sigh, realizing this was a life or death situation, and therefore no time at all to be acting like such a… boy about a naked woman. "I'm, uh, going to dry you off, okay? You're wet. With, uh, you know, rain. You won't get warm if we don't dry your skin."

Yes, that was nice and detached and mature.

"...mhmm…," the woman answered in a weary voice.

He felt bad for her. It was almost cruel irony how much Wally had been angry with his day, when this woman had clearly had the shittiest one he could imagine. Frowning, he reached out and tucked some very damp blonde hair away from her face, causing her brow to twitch with displeasure.

"Keep… your distance," she warned him, cracking one eye open to glare menacingly; he hadn't been able to tell out in the night and rain, but her eyes were a very dark shade of gray, almost black.

They were disconcertingly piercing, even with her body going through so much stress.

Wally looked away from her. He cleared his throat and tugged the blanket off of her body. He held the towel up in one hand, uncertainly hovering it near her face until she begrudgingly nodded at him in irritated consent. He wiped gently at her dripping face, pulling her blonde mane into a bundle so that he could squeeze the water out into the towel. There was a lot of dried blood caked into the strands that had rested along her abdomen and it made him grimace.

He pretty much let his mind go blank from there, trying not to focus on anything about her, but rather the towel in his hand. In no time he had her as dry as he could get her, all except for the bloody place where her hand still rested as if she were afraid her guts would spill out.

The wound was up higher than he had at first noticed, very close to her ribs.

"I need you to move your hand for me," Wally told her after discarding the towel. He started to grab her wrist to move it away, but remembered the way she had acted when he shifted her hair aside and thought better of it. The blonde gave him a look, pressing her bloodied fingers together and tentatively pulling them away.

It was hard for him to make out anything other than a lot of blood at first, but he could tell it was definitely serious. He gently dabbed around the edges of it with the other towel, removing the gruesome rivulets of rain water mixed with blood from her skin. Once it was a little cleaner, the clearer view caused him to suck in a sharp breath between his teeth.

It looked as if someone had taken an ice cream scooper and scooped the flesh away like it was soft serve.

To top that off, the ragged skin surrounding the area looked like it had been burned. He had never seen a wound of this magnitude before, but something about it struck him as odd, like it wasn't something you might normally see on your average day in the emergency room. The burned skin melded into what looked a whole lot like a rash; little red dots peppered the area, making it look quite irritated.

The woman looked down at it, seemingly intrigued.

"Hmm… s'not so bad," she said lightly, looking like she was about to touch it. Wally shot his hand out, grabbing her wrist before she could prod it unnecessarily.

"Not that bad?" he sputtered, ignoring the flare of her nostrils at his contact. He was starting to wonder if she was hallucinating at this point, because there was no way in hell they were looking at the same thing here. No sane person would gaze at a good two inches of flesh scooped out and declare it not that bad. "It looks like you're having an allergic reaction to the… bullet or something! Which thankfully just skimmed you as far as I can tell."

She laughed.

"Nothing about this is funny!" Wally insisted hotly. Who was this woman!?

"It is from where I'm sitting," she remarked, baring her teeth at him. He supposed it was meant to be something of a smile, but it was bogged down by pain. Her teeth were very straight and very white, making him wonder absently if she had ever had braces before; there was no way she was born with that perfect of teeth.

She also had this weird second set of canine teeth. Like, there was her normal one, then a longer, sharper looking one sat next to that one where a perfectly blunt tooth should have been normally. At least, that's what it looked like in the second he was able to observe before she let her plump lips fall back over them, amusement gone.

Wally wrinkled his nose, trying to focus back on the task at hand.

"Whatever," he groused at her. "You can cover yourself back up now, by the way. I just need this spot free." He gestured at her so called 'not that bad' problem with a finger.

"I'll get right on that," she snapped, reaching with little effort for the blanket bunched up at her feet. Wally rolled his eyes, handing it to her. She pulled it back up to her chin, while he pushed the material out of the way of her side, creating a perfect frame of the wound for him to work in.

The heater hummed steadily next to them, warming the room and drying out Wally's soaked clothes. He hadn't noticed how cold he was until he was watching her get cozy again on his couch; the ginger hairs on his arms were standing on end, overtaken with goose bumps.

"You should… have left me in the rain," the woman said bluntly. Wally ignored her, opening up his first aid kit and marveling at all the useful things that were hidden within it. He'd never noticed before. "You're a moron."

"The moron saving your life."

She clucked her tongue in disapproval, turning her head away. The redhead rolled his eyes skyward.

Wally searched around in the kit for the supplies he figured he'd need. He wasn't an expert on taking care of this kind of injury, but he knew how to clean cuts, and he knew how to treat burns. The best he could do was mash the two techniques together and hope he could provide her with the relief she needed.

He took a cloth and some alcohol from the kit, contemplating the opening with furrowed brows. It looked too far apart for him to stitch it, not to mention he had never sewn anything up before and wasn't keen on trying it anyway, so that was probably for the best. His emerald eyes darted up to her face, which was now turned upward, squinted gray eyes focusing on the ceiling. If she was intending to burn a hole through it and escape, she'd be laying there for a while.

"This is going to hurt," he warned her. She shrugged carelessly.

Sighing, Wally held the cloth beneath the wound and tipped the bottle above it, slowly letting the liquid pour over it. The woman hissed, her fingers digging into the back of the couch in an attempt to ground herself.

"Sorry," he said quietly when that part was finished several tense minutes later. Her nostrils were flaring, and she didn't grace him with a response. Her silence was driving him up the walls, but he finished his job at any rate, carefully using another of the towels he'd brought into the room to dab gently at the burned, irritated areas of her skin around the site. He made her sit up, letting the covers fall from her chest so that he could wrap her up.

Now that a lot of his adrenaline had faded, it was like his stupid brain wanted him to do nothing but notice how naked she was, or how smooth and soft her skin felt beneath the pads of his fingers. It made him keep clearing his throat every time his eyes would drift toward her breasts much against his will (seriously he wasn't trying to be a creeper).

He just hadn't really expected his day to end like this.

Apparently, she noticed his straying gaze and throat clearing.

"Do you have a hairball or something?" she demanded, still holding the soft gauze in place while he fixed the tape to keep it there. Wally felt heat creep up his neck.

"What? No, I'm just thirsty."


"So go get some water," she huffed, pulling the covers back up to her chin as soon as he retracted his fingers. She settled back down against the cushions, snuggling in like she had taken the place over. He had a feeling though, that had she been in better health after his aid, she would have knocked him out cold and been far, far away from his house before he could do anything about it.

It was clear her body was too desperate for rest for her to attempt such a feat.

"Right. I'll bring you something to ease the pain while I'm at it."


Wally got two cups, filling them with water from his refrigerator. He almost wound up overfilling one of them because he couldn't stop thinking about the woman. He still had so many questions for her, now that she was in a more stable condition. He wanted to know who she was, and why she had been shot at, and why she hadn't wanted him to call the ambulance.

Somehow he knew she wouldn't take kindly to any of those intrusive questions, so he stopped thinking up scenarios in which to ask and just grabbed some pain pills before returning to her.

She gulped the water down greedily even after she'd swallowed the meds. Wally smirked into his cup, taking only a sip before surrendering it to her. That glass disappeared as well.

Wally rubbed at the back of his neck.

Now what?

He wasn't exactly comfortable with letting this strange and stubborn woman sleep on his couch while he was off in his bedroom. He hated to be so paranoid, but this was Gotham; what if he awoke to all of his stuff stolen, or what if he didn't wake up at all because she'd decided to murder him?

She was already falling asleep though. Wally watched her for a bit, then with a tired sigh, sank back down on the chair he'd been using. He leaned back in it, letting the back of it rest against his coffee table, kicking his feet up on the couch near her covered thigh.

The downpour continued outside, pounding on his windows, and the heater made his skin warm, and her soft breathing started to lull him to sleep.

"Art… emis…"

Wally's eyes opened. He tilted his head at her, confused.


"Mmm… Artemis," she clarified, her voice slurred with sleep. "S'm name…"

"Artemis…" Wally repeated quietly, letting it roll of his tongue.


She trailed off into deep snores.

The redhead smiled to himself.