Title: Can't Catch Me
Rating: T
Genre: Humor, Angst, Romance
Fandom: Young Justice
Couple: Artemis/Cameron, Article Jr., Frostbite, CamArt, Winterwonderland

A/N: it's been a while since I wrote anything so I decided to post excerpts from my Artemis/Cameron fic that I've been working on for far too long. So this will be a series of one-shots in chronological order and coming-of-age arc practice. It's AU. Obviously. Sadly.

"Never show your enemies how much you care . . . because then they have power over you."

Anne Blankman Prisoner of Night and Fog

They live in a world of precision in the form of perfectly preformed axel kicks, gunshots, and bombs with timers that go tick tock tick tock like the White Rabbit's clock as he's stuck in Wonderland limbo, running in circles and circles and circles until he finds his Alice.

It's a precision world, but not always an accurate one.

In this world, someone always messes up—sometimes big time—and then blood is spilt and bones are broken and spirits are razed in order for the disorderly to maintain their own twisted form of command. It is law among their kind, a rule, a rite; Cameron has long since accepted that.

But Cameron Mahkent never thought he would be such a person.

All he knows is that his prints were found where they shouldn't be. He was torn from bed early Sunday morning, and informed that he would be tried as an adult Monday afternoon. Monday night a message arrived by guard under his dinner tray—instructions and small white pill for honorable discharge.

Cameron never found much use for it.

(Lights are flashing and his blue eyes are illuminated and his orange jumpsuit is baggy around—well, all of him since he's such a lanky guy. Reporters are everywhere, everyone wants his picture and everyone wants his statement—)

He had been a good soldier up until now. He did everything he was told, everything that was necessary, everything to survive.

He is skilled in ways of survival. He had the drive, the equipment, and the power to do so.

Cameron Mahkent is a survivor, and a student of the best of the best.

(His picture is everywhere and his famous statement released from the police is plastered under it in inky lettering. "I didn't do it!")

Sadly, that wouldn't always be enough to protect him. He wasn't ordained into the Shadows; he was merely a student of them, still learning their ways. The Shadows could do with one less student, his meta-gene aside, he was disposable.

Their world was a double-edged sword, hurting and helping, business and pleasure, assassin and murderer, and he was snarled in the crossfire; the police and civilians, the Justice League and the League of Shadows.

He hadn't killed that man. He didn't need to go to a maximum security prison. He didn't need a thousand expensive lawyers or a phone call to his AWOL dad because he didn't kill anyone. He'd never killed anyone, but that too is its own secret.

(Screams rip through the crowd around him and the police escorts look up to see what the cause of the noise is.)

An arrow stabs into the ground a few yards away. The feathers are yellow and the body is black, and under the feathers is a blinking bright light that's becoming faster and faster with each passing of the seconds.

With trained ease, and years of sparring combat under his belt, Cameron instinctively pushes his body back—catching two bodyguards by surprise—and gets low behind the guards like human shields and huddles, waiting for the explosion that follows two seconds later.

All in perfect precision.

.

.

.

Artemis Crock drops two smoke bombs down into the chaos and descents down from her perfect hiding place: right above their noses. The tree is stabbed full of limbs easy for climbing and hiding and perching and waiting for the past nine hours for your detained best friend.

The smoke is thick and slips into her lungs and tears up her eyes a bit, but she's immune to it unlike the others. Cameron is too.

She flips down from her hiding place, stepping off the shoulders of a scrambling guard and drops into the thick fog.

"Cam!" she calls through the smoke and all around her people (cops, press, and civilians) are coughing and hacking, she can barely hear his voice when he calls back to her.

Artemis finds him on his knees, heavily bound in chains, and a collar she wasn't expecting. This could be a problem. She pulls a stiletto blade from her belt and shoves her way towards him.

"Cam!" she kneels beside him and jimmies the shackles for a moment and they come free, then gets to work on his legs. Her hands are shaking from adrenaline and the urgent sense of hurry embedded into her skin. Artemis glances around at the blind cops clawing at their eyes in horror like she once had the first time she was exposed to the gas. Her eyes were red and bleeding afterward, months later she was able to withstand it—totally immune.

"Artemis . . ." Cam chokes and touches his now free hands to his collar. His eyes are bruised with shadows from lack of sleep. "This. I can't use my powers with this on."

"Does it have a tracker?" she asks, stiletto in hand and ready to use it, but—with time of the essence—she would rather run and deal with it later. She touches the collar.

"Yeah, and it shocks too!" With that statement Cam's expression twists from confusion to withering pain as the collar gives him a few bolts to subdue him. He doesn't scream—for her benefit or his—he grids his teeth. Artemis recoils when she receives a shock too, but she recovers faster, and whirls around toward the cop with the device in his hands.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Artemis levels the stiletto knife—sparkling silver at the edges of her gloved fingers—takes aim and throws. The blade embeds itself into the man's wrist and the remote falls. Artemis lunges at him like a jungle cat on an injured boar, going for the throat initially.

Hand-to-hand, face-to-arrow; it didn't matter how Artemis fought because she would always win. When she attacks by propelling herself at her target she has the undoubted element of surprise, when she has him on the ground, she's already won.

But Artemis is young and she's new, so when the seasoned war veteran kicks the back of her knees and she goes down like a sack of potatoes with the air knocked out of her lungs, she's thoroughly surprised. She's use to living in a world where everyone is stronger than her, but here—in the center of Gotham—she barely expects someone to pull the wool over her eyes.

Except Batman, but she hardly expects him to make an appearance.

Before the cop can deliver the last blow, he's shot down and Artemis has to roll out of the way when he lands. There's a forked weapon embedded into his back, wedged between two bones on the trail of vertebra running the length of his back: a Sai.

Shit! Artemis stumbles to get back to Cam, her foot slips as she scrambles up and turns to find Cameron unconscious on the ground, an officer standing over him—gun in hand. Her breath catches on the acidic sweet taste of smoke.

A police officer takes aim and fires, and for the first time in her life Artemis is like a dear in headlights watching the shiny metal dot fly towards her.

She is tackled herself and the other body on top of her rolls until they're at the feet of the crowd behind an overturned caution sign, even further from Cameron, but hidden for now.

The Cheshire Cat is grinning at her through the arcane of smoke, but she knows the face behind that it anything but gleeful. "Are you insane?" a muffled voice questions angrily and before she can answer the cat yanks her into the crowd. Jade's grip is crippling, aside from the grazed bullet wound on her shoulder. She's shaky with adrenaline. "You're in way over your head."

Jade grabs Artemis's arm and presses a button on her belt.

The Sai she threw into the back of cop explodes and the bright flash drops GCPD into a state of stupor that allows one masked girl to drag away her kicking and screaming sister.

.

.

.

Cameron's legs are shaking and his palms are sweating.

Artemis. Where was Artemis? Was she okay? Did Jade manage to get her out alright? She'd come swinging out of nowhere in high-tech mask and low-tech outfit and dragged a domino-masked, black-clad Artemis out of the line of fire to safety.

All these questions running through his mind he barely has a take a moment and—he nearly groans—remembers his training. Relax, he threatens himself, ice spiking in his gut and comforting his rapid heartbeat. Don't let them get to you. Relax, look around. Take inventory. Think before speaking. They're bound to send someone in soon.

He opens his eyes. Ice-powers are a no because Artemis had not been able to get the collar off. Focus, he swallows. Shadows taught me shit about meta-genes. All my training is in regular old Cameron form. He continues his inventory of the room: four grey walls, no windows, one door, and a table. He's in the only chair and that's wielded to the ground right now. He gives a pull to the cuff on his wrist—steel—and pushes his thumb and pinkie finger under his hand. He pulls again and nearly slips out.

Okay, there's always plan—, he grinds his teeth and balls his hands into fists. This is going to hurt just a bit.

He let the cuff slide up the skin of his forearm, testing the cool metal against his skin, and then yanks back. His elbows hit the back of his chair and both his wrist snap out of their sockets.

"God—" he growls out the rest and slips his hands out of the cuffs. Useless but free, he'll have to fix that quick. Okay, now his feet should be too—

"I'm just wondering, how did you plan on snapping those back in?"

Instead of a cop, or FBI agent, or some whacky reporter, standing in the too small doorway, looking very out of place is none other than Batman. And his sidekick Robin. But Batman! Batman was here to interrogate him! Albeit, instead of thinking of the various ways the Dark Knight will break his bones, smash his head into the table, and drop him from great heights—CSI-style—to get answers out of him, Cameron's mind is still whirling.

Putting the space between his thumb and pointer finger on his chin, he pushes down gently at first and then harder. The wrist snaps back. He does the same with the other hand. The snaps are like music and the vigilante-hero looks dually impressed.

Cameron shrugs, twisting his wrists and hoping he hadn't done it wrong. "It's easy. I could show you some time."

"Do all your friends know that little trick too?"

Anger snaps up inside of Cameron. Friends? Is Artemis here? Did she not get away? Batman's mouth is an unmoving line, the cowl giving away nothing. Cameron panics.

"Where's—that girl?" He nearly caught himself there, but kept rambling. "Do you have her in custody? She didn't do anything."

Batman's mouth twitches at the corners and Cameron knows its useless. Artemis had tried to intercept a high profile villain (or at least, that's what the tabloids were calling him) on a medium security transfer. She defiantly wasn't innocent, especially when she started releasing arrows and Jade's smoke bombs. But Jade had come and Jade had gotten her out.

Or, at least, that's what he thought.

"Look, I just need you to tell me something—anything—throw me in jail now, I don't care. Just tell me if she got away or not."

Everything is quiet and Cameron can only stare at the Batman as his sidekick stares shocked at the panic in his voice. Damnit, he bites the inside of his cheek, hard. Rule number one of Shadows: don't let your enemy know your weakness.

"No," the man's voice is calm and deep, really deep; he must do that on purpose. "She got away." Cameron's shoulders relax instantly, ears ringing with the words. "I don't think there's a chance you'll tell us who she is?"

Cameron's eyes narrow into icy slits. He may have given them his weakness, but he won't let them have her. "When Hell sets fire," he snaps, but curbs the sarcasm—just a little—because they had just given him some good news. If it was true.

"Girlfriend?" the sidekick pipes up with a snide smirk and Cameron shoots the glare in his direction as he pushes down his earlier thoughts on the subject.

"Robin," Batman chides disdainfully, but he only smiles cheekily back before fixing his eyes on Cameron.

"Is that why you're here? Because if that's it, then that's it; I'm not telling you about her any more than I can say I shouldn't be here in the first place."

"And why's that?"

Flaring up, the ice that threatens to ebb at his fingers is stifled like water smothering flames and Cameron snarls. This collar is a hypocrisy—clever, but—total mutiny against his body. "Because I didn't do anything! I haven't killed anyone."

Batman regards this with a rising brow and takes a seat at the table with him. "That's where you're right. You didn't kill that man."

"Yes! Thank you . . . wait what?"

"You didn't kill that man, but I know who did. I need you to trust me and do exactly what I say. Can you do that Cameron?"

Cameron nods but couldn't imagine what he's getting himself into.

.

.

.

A warm breeze laps at Artemis's tear stained cheeks and with the rocking of the floor she barely realizes she's on a boat before the ground under her arches and crashes down. Blood warm water splashes across her and she slips down the boat before tight ropes around her wrists and ankles keep her plastered to the front of the boat like a trophy.

Blinking away the salt water, Artemis assesses her surroundings. She tied down to a boat, or the bow of a boat; a blindingly white cruise boat. Around her everything is bright, warm sunshine and a blue, blue sky and palm trees and all she can think is: where the fuck is Gotham?

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd wake up!" a male voice calls and she turns her head as much as she could to see Eric's smiling acidic green eyes peering at her over his cheap sunglasses. He's holding a fruity martini glass and dressed for the beach.

"Eric!? What the fu—!?"

A shadow looms over her; one with alluring curves and big hair: Jade. She stares up at her sister who's wearing a black sarong over her black bikini, looking very displeased with the exotic surrounds as Artemis is and she tilts her head like her namesake, all glittering eyes and slowly curling lips. "Have a good nap, sis?"

Yesterday—today—two days ago—she doesn't know—comes back on her like the waves of the blue water below and Artemis lunges up, anchored back by the ropes and screams. "Take me back to Gotham!" she shouts.

"You need to get it together." Jade hisses and kneels to untie Artemis. "If you go charging off like that again I'll kill you myself." Her ankle is free. "So then I can throw you in the Lazarus pit and kill you again." Now the other ankle, Artemis swings her feet away from Jade, cautious and ready to run.

"Mom would kill you . . ." she trails off. "Where's Cam?"

Jade ignores her.

"Jade."

Still nothing, so she retaliates the only way she knows how.

Artemis kicks out and Jade dodges, glaring at Artemis for good measure and drops the piece of rope in her hand—surrender, but not. She's given up. "He's fine! You, however, are not."

"I'm perfectly fine!"

"Yes, I can see that."

Artemis yanks her hand free and sits up before leaning down to untie the other wrist.

"Where are we?"

"Isle of Shadows, this is where they used to train assassins. Now it's where you will gain your membership to the Shadows. Master's orders, at my request." Jade closes her eyes for a moment and exhales. Artemis knows that the betrayal if stabbing through her gut."It's very secure; no one will know we were here." Jade answers crudely and survives the area around them critically. "This is where you'll be staying until all this blows over."

"What?!" She moves too suddenly and the rope goes taunt; she swears under her breath before looking to her sister again. "Jade, no. Cam—!"

"Do not concern yourself with him, Artemis. Remember: look out for yourself, first and foremost."

"I am," she nearly snarls. "I'm fine. Jade, I need to know if Cameron is—"

"Cameron," the name is twisted in her teeth and spat out like a curse. "Will be fine." Fat chance. Artemis forces herself to relax and unties to the rope before getting up to stand; Jade glares warily at her. "You, however, have been compromised by the situation and are to be detained until the situation has been handled."

Artemis shoots her a look that says "screw you" and whirls towards Eric. "Eric! Take us back to mainland!"

Jade looks over her shoulder at her, and then to Eric who gave a stern 'I-will-not-get-mixed-up-in-a-Nguyen/Crock-debate-thank-you-very-damn-much' look and went back to sipping his fruity drink and scanning the aqua blue waters for other ships.

"Eric!" she growls, but knows it's useless and looks to her sister. "What about mom?!"

"I can forge you're handwriting and otherwise it doesn't matter. Cameron's trial should be over in a few months, three tops."

"And dad?" Artemis raises a brow at her sister and can feel the tension rising in Jade like a volcano about to erupt.

"This is none of his business. I raised you; I know what's best for you." Jade snarls and Artemis is forcibly reminded of being stolen away into the middle of the night, taken to Sensei and the training and how Jade had always went looked out for her—in her own special way. In a way, Jade was trying to protect her from their father. Artemis couldn't hate him because she didn't very well know him as anything but Daddy who gave her piggyback rides and presents on her birthday. Jade knew him only as Sportsmaster who smacked her across the face once when she was thirteen and she had been feeding that steady hatred with everything he hadn't done.

"Jade . . ." Artemis draws out but her sister is not swayed—it hadn't worked anyway since she was three and mom and dad hadn't started fighting yet. "Please. I need to know Cam is oka—"

"And he will be!" Jade snaps hands balling into fists at her hips. "I know that boy; I know he didn't kill anyone. He's too weak; he doesn't have the ability to take a life, even if he wanted to." That Artemis knew was true, during their initiation onto training it had been Artemis to make the fatal blow to their target and she gave Cameron the credit. "And he's a coward; if he rats on you then I'll take matters into my own hands."

At the insult, Artemis lunges—exhaustion, hunger, and rage boiling her insides—and tackles Jade to the bow and bats off her sister's claws. "Don't say that about him! Cam would never—" Once again she's cut off and her sister is smiling wider than her namesake.

Jade's eyes narrow. "That may be true but still, little sister, you should know better than to lose your temper!" Jade grabs Artemis's wrist and flings her body up; sending Artemis cart-wheeling over the safety rail and into the ocean water. The ocean swallows her up, smacking her with it surface. The sound of a motor humming in her ears, Artemis eyes the wide propellers cutting through the warm water and pulling her in.

She pushes away from the boat with her feet and struggles with her arms and heavy wet clothes to get further away until her lungs are screaming for air.

Breaking the surface another splash hit her face: a backpack.

She glances back to the boat that Eric was driving away and Jade was still standing on the stern.

"I'll come and get you when you're ready to leave!" she calls and waves mockingly like the time she first dropped Artemis off at preschool and threatened not to pick her up since she ate the last donut earlier that morning.

This situation feels startlingly similar.

Artemis swims after them as the boat propels out of sight and she screams when she can no longer find it on the horizon.

Artemis's eyes adjust and she glances around her, finding a patch of wilderness that must be the Isle of Shadows. There's a thin tendril of smoke curling up from the vegetation.

Shadow training, Crock code: survive.

Without much a choice she swims towards it. I'm sorry Cameron.

I have been waiting to post this since my sophomore year of high school.

Again, I love everything about this little world I created because I love these characters so much, I want to make their lives a living hell. And that's why I write angsty Artemis/Cameron. And fabulous Jade, and snarky Eric, and motherly Paula and two-face Lawrence. Sue me, but you have to review first.

Next update soon.