Disclaimer: Young Justice is owned by DC Comics, Warner Bros., and Cartoon Network, also known as fun suckers incorporated.

A/N: For Spitfire Spectacular! Jotted this drabble down in between finals induced panic attacks and random bursts of feels. So here, have some feels. Free of charge. …Wait, isn't that the definition of fanfiction?

OVER MY SHOULDER

It was like the scene from a horror movie where the skimpily dressed co-ed is standing at her medicine cabinet. She closes the door and the monster slips into view right over her shoulder in the reflection. She screams and whips around, boyfriend's lacrosse stick held high, but it's disappeared, and you just know it's gotten behind her again.

No matter how many times Artemis turned around, the ghost of her father continued to slip out of sight. She couldn't get a clear look at him, but she knew he was there. Lurking in the corner of her mind, lingering over every arrow she drew back, seeping into her skin making cold bumps sprout on the back of her neck.

The papers called it an accident, something about an overturned oil truck causing a fiery explosion on the side of the road, but she knew a professional hit when she saw one. Maybe the Light had gotten tired of him, maybe he got in over his head, or maybe he just screwed up. Either way, he was gone.

Two nights after the initial pain faded, Artemis hopped a zeta tube to Happy Harbor and begged Nightwing to let her in on the next mission. Anything was fine, as long as she got to punch someone in the face. Old habits didn't fade so easily.

Dick, to his credit, didn't pity her. Didn't ask questions. He just nodded and gave her a quick briefing. If there was one thing he had learned as the Dark Knight's sidekick, it was that bottled-up anger could manifest itself in dangerous ways.

When the good get hurt, they get tough. That was a lesson Lawrence had always failed to learn.

The mission was supposed to be a release, a way to expend her energy until she couldn't feel anymore. But instead it ended with Artemis lying on the floor of a warehouse, staring up at the hole in the ceiling she had fallen through. Her head was buzzing and she felt like her limbs had been replaced with soggy cotton. Two broken ribs, multiple abrasions, probably a concussion, and the purple shiner she had been meaning to deal out planted on her own face instead. Could've been worse.

But what really stuck, what make her feel sick, was that this was the best she had felt all week. Ever since hearing about Lawrence on the news. Lying on the ground while her life's blood dribbled out, every limb on fire with pain. It blocked all her senses. She didn't have to think about Lawrence, Jade, her mom, the team; everything was pain. And nothing hurt.

Nightwing's reprimands echoed in her ears hours after returning to the Cave. Phrases like, "putting the team in jeopardy," and "what were you thinking?" and "you're not ready," circling round and round her head. He was a leader now, and she was an asset. Was that all their relationship amounted to anymore? He wasn't the laughing little boy with a Batman-sized chip on his shoulder anymore. But she was still the angry little girl cursing out at the world, thinking her problems could be solved by keeping them quiet.

Artemis spent the night in the medical wing. She refused painkillers. The fresh waves and stabs of pain were keeping her brain sharp and alert. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with her thoughts.

But it was a mistake to think she'd be left alone for long. The next morning, Wally came.

The only surprise was how long it took him to chase after her. She had expected him to scoop her up the moment she materialized in the zeta tube. He had been trying to give her space, and that was sweet.

Apparently he didn't think so.

He appeared in the morning. His hair was still wet from the shower and his cheeks and ears were still red from the cold. A million excuses and apologies flitted through her head, but died in her throat when she saw the way he was looking at her.

His eyes were burning with a cold fire she recognized. It was the look reserved for villains who hurt her during a mission; more than once he had been dragged kicking and struggling away from viciously pounding the stuffing out of an opponent. He would spend the time until she recovered in a sulky silence. It was part of the reason they had given up the life in the first place; neither of them could stand seeing the other hurt. But she never thought she'd see those eyes directed at her.

He didn't yell, didn't grab her or pull her away. Slumped on the end of her bed, the fire in his eyes flickered to a silent smolder with sorrow. "What were you thinking, Artemis?" His voice was low and fervent. "You weren't ready to go back in the field."

"I was doing just fine until the end," she protested.

"What happened to retirement?" he asked quietly. "I know this week has been hard...but we gave up this life for a reason."

"I know, but..."

"Did our promises mean so little to you that you could just jump in without thinking?"

Artemis winced. That one hurt. "Of course not," she insisted, feeling an awful lot like a child being scolded. "Wally, I'm sorry. I really am. I just needed to...clear my head."

He threw his hands up. "So start jogging or practice archery or take up yoga. Don't blindly throw yourself into battle!"

She shrugged, and said nothing.

Frustrated, Wally started rubbing the back of his neck and sighed. "I can't believe Dick said yes to this."

"He understood that I needed to work things out."

"Yeah, well, forgive me if I don't trust his judgment when it comes to giving you missions."

Artemis glanced down to stare at the bedspread. His hands were shaking slightly. The subject was still too sore for him. She sometimes thought, no matter how friendly they acted, he had never completely forgiven Dick for that. Or her, for that matter.

The moment she was cleared to leave, Wally led her to the zeta tubs and wordlessly transported them both to Gotham. Soon after she found herself in the Gotham Cemetery. She ought to have fought or dragged her feet to avoid going in, but deep down she knew it was inevitable. In one way or another, her path would have brought her down this road eventually.

The shadow in the corner of her eye grew darker. Her heart felt heavier just stepping past the wrought iron gates, but Wally's hand clutching her helped lighten the load.

They stopped in front of a thick headstone. The inscription made Artemis scoff. Lawrence Crock. Beloved husband and father.

"Yours was bigger," Wally said wryly.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly in spite of herself. "What are we doing here, Wally?"

"What do you think? We're going to talk to his ghost."

She frowned in confusion. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"I don't. But I believe in whatever's holding you back. Something's scaring you into making rash decisions and we're not leaving until it's gone."

A little spark of frustration lit inside her. "Listen, it's not that easy to -"

"No, you listen to me, Artemis. Do you know how many times I came up here when you were..." He stopped. So much time had passed, and yet he still couldn't bring himself to say it. His grip on her hand tightened. "Even though I knew where you were and who you were with, I still had no idea what was happening. I was so powerless back then. I lived every day in fear that the something had happened. That I'd wake up to a phone call and learn that the mission had gone horribly wrong."

Artemis reached up and curled her hand around the curve of his jaw. "Wally..."

He took her outstretched hand in his and pressed it to his chest." People come here to exorcise their ghosts. To reconcile with facts they can't change. For me it was my fear of losing you. For you," he stepped closer to the grave, keeping a firm arm around her waist for support. "It's him."

Artemis sighed. She supposed the time had come. There was no point in thinking she could put it off any longer. On an impulse, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder. But all she could see was Wally, standing stoically behind her. There was no flash in the corner of her eye. His shoulders, which had become so wide and sturdy over the years, all traces of childhood long abandoned, blocked her ghost from view. She smiled. It was proof of what she already knew. His presence gave her strength.

Artemis straightened and disentangled her hand from Wally's. "Would you mind waiting by the gate?" she asked. "I think I'd like to talk to him alone."

His eyebrows knit together with concern. "Are you sure?"

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll be fine," she said.

When she could finally see his broad back disappearing beyond the hills of gravestones, she turned to the slab of stone before her. It was just an object. Motionless and still with a slick coating of morning dew still reflecting the sunlight.

Artemis took in a deep breath. "I never had much to say to you in life so I'll keep this short. As a dad, you sucked." A strong gust of wind blew at that moment, as though the trees were laughing at her words. Heartened, she plowed on. "You gave me life, raised me, and helped me grow. We may not have always agreed on the how, but I turned out all right in the end." She smiled and glanced towards the entrance. Even from a distance, she could still see Wally's shock of burning red hair. Just the mere glimpse gave her comfort. "But it's because of you that I ended up here and met the people I love. So thanks. I guess."

Without thinking she turned on her heel and ran. She felt like a little girl shyly running from strangers, but she knew the reason this time. There was no point in looking behind her because there was nothing to see. Nothing to be afraid of.

She met Wally at the gate. "Feel better?" he asked. "Ghosts gone?"

Artemis smiled and took his hand. "For now."