The team found themselves in the same awful situation. Dick standing at the front, the rest sitting down, waiting for him to inform the news. It couldn't be worse than what half of them had experienced out there. The people refused their presence in the streets; they didn't care if the Titans were there to help. In the eyes of the Gothamites, they were no longer heroes.
Dick cleared his throat. All heads turned to him. "I know what happened today affected all of you. Less than twenty-four hours ago those same people were your fans, they piled up for a chance to meet you. And now they want you out of their city. They don't want to hear about Batman and Robin, or Nightwing and his gang of Titans anymore.
"I talked to Barbara. We arranged a solution for everyone. Nothing's set yet, so if you don't like it, speak up." They shuffled in their seats, getting comfortable for what seemed to be an unpleasant announcement. Dick nodded at their silence. "People want us gone. There's wanted posters for us all over the city. So we do what they want. We turn ourselves in before this escalates any further."
"So we turn ourselves in and then what?"
"And then we post bail, continue doing our work, but in a less public way. Work in the shadows, take this city back night by night. It's not gonna be easy, and it's not gonna be fast, but we can do it." No one said a word. It wasn't ideal but they'd have to adjust. "If you have a better idea, please, now's the time."
Gar glanced around the group. The great Titans were reduced to hopeless faces. People's opinions fueled their energy. "They hate us."
"They've been manipulated into hating us. By Crane," Kory reminded with a frown. Garfield gave a sad shake of his head. He knew it would be nearly impossible to regain Gotham's admiration.
Dick moved his gaze to the other young members of the teams. "Conner, Blackfire, what do you think?"
Conner took a second before responding, struggling to find the right words to express how he was feeling. His tone was sad, tipping to frustrated. "It was brutal out there. I don't wanna be looked at like that again."
They nodded in understanding. The sudden change was tough to deal with. Their eyes darted to Blackfire. Her head was held high with pride. She wasn't bothered by people's reactions. "Surrender isn't my thing. But I am used to people looking at me like I'm a monster, so whatever you all decide on. . . I'm in."
"Kory?"
The woman sighed. It was a low blow to see the bright soul of the team become so blue. "We've played it by the book so far and this is where it's led us. So maybe you're right. Maybe we try a new way. I'm in."
Dick glanced at the remaining women sitting on the couch. One looked terrified, the other, strangely calm. "Temi? Dianna?"
The younger woman rose from the couch and spun around, facing the group. "I'm gonna have to cut the streak. I'm not handing myself over. I don't have a wanted poster, Fénix is not in Gotham. I can help from the outside, pay your bailouts. If people see me supporting you guys, maybe they'll change their minds."
"Sounds good. But you need to be safe while we're out," Dick insisted, shoving his hands onto the pockets of his jeans.
Dianna sent him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'll be at the hospital, with Marge. Medical bills went up by seventy-three percent so I gotta pay the difference for Tim's operation. I'll stick around and see if I can help anyone else."
"At least someone will be doing some good," Kory commented, trying her best to look happy for the girl.
Artemisia inhaled deeply. She had to stop pretending her odds were different, that she wasn't privileged while the rest of the team were hunted down. "Dick, can I talk to you in private real quick?"
Kory shook her head, stepping between the pair before either of them could move. Artemisia gulped. She had hoped they would let her slip by, no questions asked. "Whatever you wanna tell him I think we can all hear."
"I don't know if you guys noticed, but my face isn't out there. I'm not wanted." They had. Conner had even made a joke that Dianna and Artemisia weren't as important as the rest of the Titans. "I'll be taking advantage of this mistake. Dick had me on a special task, I thought we could have a final debriefing before you guys left for who knows how long."
Silence. She couldn't believe it worked. Two months ago she wouldn't be able to create a lie out of the blue.
Dick caught up instantly. "You should get suited up. We'll be right back."
The team went in direction of the Batcave while they headed for the library, the center of the house, isolated from everywhere else. Artemisia shut the doors behind her, letting out a long breath. She didn't feel as relieved as she had imagined. She was now trapped with Dick, the last person she wanted to be with. "Thanks for covering up. I hate lying to them."
"What is it?"
"It's about the wanted list," she confessed, hesitantly stepping toward him. Dick raised his eyebrows. "The day we stormed into Snowy Cones my contact from the League, Milo, met up with Crane to make some sort of deal. I'm guessing the fact that I'm allowed to walk free has something to do with it. She didn't tell me what they talked about, but knowing them, it couldn't be good.
"I know I should've stopped her as soon as she told me but I figured I could use her to get to Crane, give the Titans the upper hand. I was wrong. They planned something bigger than any of us could possibly imagine." She scoffed at his silence. "Maybe I should hand myself in. I deserve it for being an accomplice."
Dick shook his head, taking a step closer. "You walk into the GCPD with us, they'll think you're taking sides. You'll have a target in your head. Keep working with them, find out everything you can. I'll contact you when we get out." His hands reached for her shoulders, moving her an inch closer. "Don't do anything that'll get you killed."
"You sure you want to use the League? It could backfire."
"They're using you. It's only fair."
She nodded. He copied her. Her eyes flickered toward his to find him already watching. She didn't like the idea of not knowing when ( or if ) she would see him again. She didn't care where they were or what they were. The idea of spending more time without him, without the team, ate her alive. She wished to be able to change every single mistake that lead them to this exact moment and erase them.
As if reading her mind, her anxiety, Dick pulled her into his embrace. Artemisia was shocked but gave in, not wasting the opportunity that could never again come. Her head rested against his chest, feeling the deep vibrations of his voice. "Please, stay safe. We'll meet again soon."
She pulled away, looking down. This was the last time she'd see him. Her eyes batted toward his face. Everything would be fine. It had to be.
"Good luck."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Foam dripped from the infected's mouths as they lurched in direction of the assassins. They formed a circle, keeping every mindless attacker in sight. Their swords were drawn out, reflecting the full moon in the sky. Red hoods covered their heads, satin veils concealing their features.
Artemisia could follow the strict instructions so far. She had refused to wield a sword to fight civilians. Her objective wasn't to kill or gravely harm, only to safeguard those who were not infected and defenseless. She carried two escrima staff, hoping she could be as talented as Dick.
Her weapon smacked the infected behind the knee. They folded at her feet. As she retreated into the circle, they began to rise once again, snapping their joint back into place. Not creepy at all. With a raging screech, they lurched at her. She looked away and smacked them in the neck.
The attacker dropped immediately. She stepped back, waiting for them to jump back into their feet and go for another round. Nothing. It remained on the ground, no longer posing a threat.
She sent a smirk at the assassin by her left. They didn't need to kill them to stop them. The assassin studied the body, eyebrows raising. For a second, Artemisia thought she had convinced them, but then they buried a blade into an infected civilian's stomach.
Her beam dropped. Everyone around her was killing without a second thought. She knew they were trained murderers, a clear giveaway in their name, but she had only seen them act against League's enemies or people who wronged them. These were ordinary people affected by the toxins in the water; it was temporal.
Whispers began surging between the crowd that witnessed their 'protection'. Artemisia suddenly felt that all eyes were on her. They didn't understand. She was the only one that was doing some good for the city. The people dressed in red hoods were harming the city while preaching safety.
Artemisia took a deep breath. No one was staring at her. Their eyes were glued to their phones as they continued to whisper over the slashing of their people. "The Titans are handing themselves in. We're finally free from them."
"Gotham's Red Hood's!" A man yelled from one of the many buildings surrounding them. The crowd in the parking lot began chanting along, celebrating Red Hood's victory. Momentary victory.
Milo leaped before the final infected, swinging her sharp blade at them, drawing blood from their throats. Their gurgling noises weren't heard over the cheering. They fell silently. Forgotten. The woman circled her victims, grinning widely. "Looks like Crane was right. They're so predictable. Well, what are you waiting for? Initiate phase two, and tear the city apart. No one's gonna save them now."
Letting out a euphoric cry, the assassins scattered out, swinging their weapons, creating terror. The crowd soon thinned out as they dashed around, screaming. How could anyone be okay with this?
Artemisia remained in her spot, holding onto the sticks to ground herself. This was her doing, too. She had ruined the city.
"Is there a problem, Lee?" Milo moved in front of her, wiping the spatter of blood that tinted her neck.
Artemisia held her chin high, grinding her teeth together. She wouldn't stand Milo's bullshit any longer. Enough crimes had been ignored. It had to stop now. "I'm not doing it. I've hurt this city enough. I won't keep doing it."
"That's a serious statement. I believe you swore you would help the League in exchange for our aid controlling your powers." Milo stepped closer, their bodies clashing. Artemisia controlled her breath, forging confidence to glare back at the taller woman. "The favor's not returned yet."
"I don't care. I'm drawing the line here. Gotham's been through enough." To make her point clear, she dropped her weapons. As the wood clattered on the ground, her hand fisted around the air.
Milo glared at the fallen escrima sticks, her mouth growing into a dangerous grin. Her fingers caught Artemisia's jacket, forcing the shorter woman to stand on her tiptoes. "Walk away right now and I'll find you in your highest and tear everything from you. You'll regret the smallest things that wronged me. Like that damn tracker you put on me."
"I'm not afraid of you."
The woman let go of her clothing, shoving her away. She began chuckling, wordlessly pointing at Artemisia with her sword. She didn't know whether she would attack her or herself. Rejection wasn't something Milo had grown up with and she certainly did not intend to get used to it.
"Oh, you will be," she warned, smudging the drying blood around her mouth. She'd crossed the wrong person. The sharp blade moved left and right, cutting through the tense air. Fuck. "Run, Lee, before I change my mind and skin you alive right now."
Artemisia took a step back, keeping her gaze fixated on the assassin. One missed twitch and she would be dead. She stumbled away, gaining speed on her pace. She glanced over her shoulder. Milo smiled at her, scratching the tip of her weapon against the floor. The sound of breaking cement raised goosebumps all over her body.
She had put a few blocks between her and the assassin when her system began to panic. Her hands trembled, and her legs weakened. Why the hell had she just done that? It was one thing to oppose orders, another to push to the point of receiving a death threat from a higher-ranking member.
Milo would live up to her promise. She would do everything in her power to get her hands on Artemisia and make her suffer in ways no human should experience. She could run, but that only delayed the inevitable. Artemisia would pay for her betrayal.
Searching for safety, Artemisia stormed into the worst hiding place ever. A toy store was an unthinkable spot and that's what made it perfect. In the middle of a crisis, no one would think of sheltering somewhere without weapons, food, or water. But she could only remain there for so long.
She only needed a couple of minutes in there.
She took out her phone. Barely any signal but she'd have to work it that. She searched among her contacts for that one 'only for emergencies' contact. She didn't know if they would pick up or if they would send help. It was a final, hopeful call. Her last resource, for she was on her own.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
She shouldn't have stood up to the League ( even if she was convinced it was the right thing to do ). Her opinion did not matter, they continued to tear the city apart. One missing soldier didn't make much of a difference. They just took five minutes longer in destroying everything in their path. Her move was fruitless.
She felt like the only one who suffered the consequences. She couldn't be out there helping. She couldn't do anything that would tip off the League on her location, that would put everyone near her at risk.
Artemisia had been hiding for a whole day, now. A group of friends, desperate for protection, had allowed her to hide among them. With little supplies they had, the four of them barricaded themselves in an old apartment near the city's center, where chaos had yet to arrive. It was only a matter of time, but they believed themselves prepared for anything.
She had found a perfect spot in the small complex, the door near her ear range, a window right above her head. She'd hung there for the past ten hours, keeping a close watch in the tense streets below. Every shadow that passed, attempting to hide, scared her. She feared every time the League had found her, but then they rushed away, searching for safety and her heartbeat calmed.
That night, something felt off. There were more people in the streets, protesting and fighting. It wasn't long before the assassins began showing up. But rather than swinging their swords, asserting dominance, they kept them away from a certain area.
She couldn't see what it was from her spot. The large presence of Leaguers didn't allow her to brush it off. After hours of anchoring herself in that nook, Artemisia raised to her feet and attempted to peek from different windows. She needed to know what was going on down there.
Gunshots started ricocheting off the open space. More and more people began packing around the concealed area, held off by the violent assassins. She reached the studio's window and saw the scene that captivated the dozens. Red Hood and Nightwing were battling.
Dick was at a total disadvantage, fighting with his escrima sticks and nothing else, while Jason had unlimited ammunition in his guns and the external support of the League. Artemisia wished she could lend a hand, stun Jason and make a run for it. But if she merely showed her face in there, Milo would have her seized, and her warning accomplished.
After a minute of showing off their skills, silently arguing for dominance, Dick managed to send Red Hood to the ground. She was wrong to have doubted him. The odds were always on his side. Marching toward the fallen vigilante, Dick suddenly stumbles back as a loud bang filled the quiet night.
A random bystander had their gun aimed at Nightwing. Their finger pulled on the trigger several times, forcing Dick to stay away from the new hero. Another shot.
Dick's knees buckled. His hand reached for his neck. He dropped to his knees. Artemisia wanted to scream. What's wrong? Why did he stop fighting? He leaned toward the floor, struggling to keep himself steady. . . he fell. His body laid on the ground and nobody cared.
Red Hood rushed out of the scene, cleaning his hands off any guilt. Members of the League approached the wounded man, who still strived to bring anyone down. His hand weakened; his fist softened, plunging into the ground.
Her hand pressed onto the cold glass. She would be running to him if she hadn't stood up to Milo. A whimper escaped her lips. Her lungs burned as she held back a shriek. They were going to kill him. Dick could no longer defend himself. He was too weak. Please. . . leave him alone.
Abandoning him in the streets, his loss displayed with humiliation, the assassins walked away from the plaza. People began deserting the area as well. No one stayed behind to check on Dick. They didn't care anymore.
She had to do something. She owed him.
Recovering her bladeless weapons, she stormed into the small kitchen, panting. Her three temporary roommates stared at her. They put down their canned meals. Artemisia struggled to find the right words, so she went with the basics, hoping they would understand.
"My friend. . . shot. . . the street. . . needs help. . . please open the door."
They shared a look. They had agreed not to open the door unless it was extremely necessary. Artemisia placed her hands together, begging they would empathize with her despair. This was extremely necessary. "We won't open it again once you're gone. We need to stay safe."
She bobbed her head. They would manage. They always did.
The trio sent her off with a bottle of water and food for one day. It was more than enough. She thanked them with a quick hug before running down the hall, heading for the stairs. She heard their door click shut, then furniture being dragged on the floor. There was no going back, now.
It was cold. Really fucking cold. Her skin felt painfully rigid, restricting her moves. She should have burrowed something heavier to keep warm. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sprinted to the scene. No people or assassins around, just Dick's unmoving body.
Two silent figures approached her from the left. No place to hide. She drew her weapon, preparing to attack. Their faces became clear as they took a step into the light. Gar and. . . "Rachel?" Artemisia shook her head. No time for an emotional reunion. "Some dude shot him like four times. He didn't stand a chance."
She kneeled by Dick's side, splashing blood. The concerning pool sourced from his neck. A clean had shot pierced his skin, his artery. Not good. Her fingers pressed on the unwounded side. Seconds passed. Nothing. Not the faintest sensation of a heartbeat. He's. . .
Rachel grabbed her arm. The word slipped from her mind. "Gar and I found a Lazarus Pit, here, in Gotham. Crane used it to resurrect Jason. If we can carry him down there, we might get him back."
She'd heard all about the Lazarus Pit. She had met people who were resurrected by its mystical forces. It wasn't the ideal method to bring someone back. It could be carnal, eerie and the chances of losing the person's soul were high. But, what other option did they have? They needed to save Dick. No matter what. "I'll carry him. You lead the way."
Rachel and Gar headed for the stairs. Already a challenge. Artemisia grabbed Dick's lifeless arms and tugged. Fuck, was he heavy. She pulled him up and let go. As gravity forced him to fall, she wrapped her arms around his torso. She bent her knees and threw him over her shoulders. Standing back up was harder than she thought but she managed.
With heavy steps, she followed the teens down the stairs. She sent them an encouraging smile, hiding the fact that her back was already sore and her legs trembled under the pressure.
Gar was acting strange. He fidgeted with his hands, glanced every second toward Dick and his breaths were shaken. Artemisia studied him a bit further and gasped softly. "Hey, you okay, bud? You're turning green."
The boy chuckled, hurrying down the next set of steps. He threw the hood over his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding the new color of his skin. "I'm fine just─ watch it!"
Dick's arm had hooked the railing. Artemisia hadn't noticed until it pulled back. His body plummeted to the ground. She let out a cry. "Damn it! I don't have the strength to carry him any further."
"It's okay. Take your time." Rachel said soothingly as she reached to stroke her arm.
Artemisia flinched, forcing the girl to retreat. She rubbed her nose, fighting the urge to cry. They wouldn't make it in time. Both teens were in danger by just being around her. But she couldn't leave them alone with Dick's dead body. She sat next to him on the steps, taking deep breaths. "The longer we wait, the harder it is to get him back. We need something else to carry him."
"Wait, you're saying the pit can fail?" Gar exclaimed, grabbing his hair. "We could lose Dick forever? Fuck!"
"No, that's not. . ." She sealed her mouth. Screeches came from behind them. She turned around. A colony of bats flew towards them. She used her arms as a shield; sharp nails grazed against her skin. All the bats circled the boy, whose body began morphing. It didn't look like a tiger, though. It was something new. "Gar?"
Rather than replying with words, the boy snarled at them. Artemisia pushed Rachel behind her. Just in case. His snarls then turned into screeches. Garfield changed into a bat, remaining green, easy to pick out. The colony moved toward Dick, attaching themselves into his suit as they picked him up.
"Holy shit. That's. . . something."
The bats began moving, carrying Dick with them. Rachel grabbed her hand and hurried her. They were following the bats. Completely normal.
The group rushed across an alley ( Artemisia couldn't help but jump at the tiniest movement around them ). They entered through a backdoor, passing by some forgotten offices until they reached the boiler room. There, a concealed hole welcomed them into a new area.
In the center, glistening green and blue and colors she couldn't describe, was the Lazarus Pit. A ramification of the mystical waters. Except they didn't feel like water. Trapped souls, a collective of vigor, infinite life, were terms used around the League. She had thought of them as myths, yet here she was, watching energy flow in waves.
Dick's body was lowered into the pit, absorbed by the darkening water. The bats scattered, their screeches fading away. Garfield batted before them for a second before going into the shadows. He emerged seconds later, throwing his shirt on. "Is he gonna make it?"
"I don't know," Artemisia confessed. She didn't know how this worked. Was his body supposed to sink? Were there some words that needed to be recited? Should the waters have been blessed? "But, thanks to you, he might have a chance."
The teens nodded, glancing at the mystic water. It had turned jet-black, barely moving. How long would they have to wait? This was irritating. Her mind wandered back to the what-ifs and I should've.
Artemisia turned to Rachel in an attempt to save herself from anxiety. Her hand grabbed the girl's, feeling a smile creep into her face. It had been far too long. They'd both gone their different ways and didn't get a chance to say goodbye. "Hey, you. How long have you been in Gotham?"
"Hi," Rachel chuckled, placing her hand over hers. "I got here this morning. I followed my senses and located Gar in a building near the GCPD. They'd shot him with some tranquilizers, thought I was part of his imagination."
She smiled at the girl before turning to Garfield, her expression darkening. She had heard through the radio that the Titans had confronted the police, but nothing else was mentioned after that. She didn't even know if anyone made it out until minutes ago. "What the hell happened at the station?"
Garfield's jaw clenched. "The police were working for Crane. It was the perfect ambush. Everyone escaped how they could. I don't know where anyone is."
Her free hand stretched toward the boy. He stepped closer, reaching to grab it. She gave both teens an encouraging squeeze. The world had turned against them, all they had were each other. More than ever, they had to remain strong. "I'm sure they're fine. We'll find them. We're Titans."
The word had barely left her lips when the water splashed them. Dick's body emerged, each new and old wound had been healed. Not a single movement came from the man. It hadn't fully worked. Artemisia pulled him closer to them, placing a finger under his nose. Shit. He wasn't breathing.
"Help me get him out!" Rachel grabbed his left arm, Garfield the right one, Artemisia hooked her arms around his torso. "One. . . Two. . . Three!" Following her lead, they began pulling, fishing his body out of the water.
She gestured for the teens to step away. She dropped by his side, ripping the front of his suit. After tilting his head to a side, she intertwined her fingers. Her hands setteled over his breastbone. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the loud sound of her heartbeat. She followed the beat, pressing on his chest with all her weight.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. . .
He needed to make it. She hadn't gotten the chance to forgive him. It had been just a kiss, nothing else. A flame that had revived with their victory; a vivid memory of the past. But it was gone now. She could see that. She was ready to move on from that night. She was ready to forget. Anything, if it meant getting him back.
Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.
Pause.
One. She pushed harder. Two. His bones felt fragile under her pressure. Three─
Water squirted out of his mouth. Artemisia fell back with a sigh. She'd done it. Dick began coughing, twisting away from her as he expelled the liquid from his lungs. His chest rose and fell, at first quickly, then began to slow down. He turned to look at his savior, scanning her up and down, still psychologically battered. The man had witnessed his worst thoughts inside the pit. The person that goes in isn't the same one that makes it out.
Artemisia didn't move. How much enlightenment had he experienced? Had he been groomed for good or bad? The slight twitch of his lips answered her worries. She threw her arms around him, caring for his fragile state. "I really thought I lost you this time."
He hugged back, holding tighter than she'd expected. He rested his head on the nook of her neck, talking just above a whisper. "I'm sorry for pushing you away. We need you. I need you. Without you, things are not the same. And I hate that. I hate not having someone to talk to, someone to look at when something's funny. . ."
She pulled away, grabbing his face. Her hands trembled with joy, with anxiety, with every emotion that had controlled her mind in seconds. "Hey, we all made mistakes in the past months. They hurt everyone around us, yeah, but we managed to get back up, we always do. We'll be fine."
Dick nodded, studying her face. His gaze roamed her eyes, then down to her lips. Artemisia held back a smile. They shouldn't not here, not now. Her eyes moved quickly toward the teens. On command, Rachel cleared her throat.
"Rachel." Dick beamed at the sight of the girl. Artemisia helped him get back on his feet. He rushed toward the girl and pulled her into a tight embrace. He was a hugger, now. That's two positive things earned from the Lazarus pit.
"Hi, Dick," she replied as she patted his back. The girl stepped back after some seconds, rubbing her eyes. "What happened down there?"
In the blink of an eye, every ounce of energy his body could muster powered his cells. He stood up straight, eyes growing wide. Memories of the pit wrecked their way into his brain. He began adjusting his suit incredibly fast. "Crane can be stopped. There's still time. I know what I have to do. I saw everything."
Garfield held him back, brows knitted together. Two minutes ago, he was dead, thanks to some asshole that shot him. It wasn't logical that he was ready to run toward enemy fire again. "Dick, you need to rest, man."
"He doesn't. It's part of the pit's effect," Artemisia explained, trying to wrap her head around that fact, too.
Dick enthusiastically agreed with her words. "Listen, go to Anton and First Street, there's an abandoned control room. Find Conner. Make sure he is okay." He panted for a second, looking at the three standing members left. "Unite the Titans."
"'Unite the Titans' where?" Rachel called after him as he began to walk away, a frown deepening on her face.
"Take them to Donna," he responded, not turning back to face them.
"Did he just say Donna?" Gar asked in a whisper.
Artemisia shrugged, rushing after the man. She caught him right before he exited the boiler room. She handed him a piece of paper written in pen and pencil. It was all smudged, thanks to the water, but still legible. "Here's operation Waterfall."
He frowned at the name. It wasn't anything they'd spoken about before, but the name was a big giveaway. It shouldn't be hard to guess what it was about. She made a face. Wasn't it obvious? Dick clicked his tongue and nodded. There it was.
He glanced at the paper, holding it tight. He looked back at her and smirked. "If we don't see each other before this: good luck."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
after months of wanting to use it, I finally got the chance to save Dick by giving him CPR 😭🙏🏼