Wonderful Disarray

~Wally + Artemis~

~Day Four: Decorations/Christmas Tree~

MT. JUSTICE
December 15, 3:27 p.m.

"Is everyone here?" The friendly blonde scans the room, silently counting the number of heads present. There are seven of them, with the obvious exception of Red Tornado and Batman. She wishes there could be one more super, a redhead, present, but she knows that he most likely won't show up. Shrugging the thought off, she sets her mind to the matter at hand: preparing the cave.

There are only ten days left until Christmas, not to mention the special party the team is hosting for the members of the League. It's vital that they finish preparations early, as crime sprees tend to become more common towards the legendary holiday. She does a mental synopsis of the group standing in front of her, carefully deciding what task she'll assign to each person.

Releasing her breath, she looks at the team, a confident smile plastered on her face. "Okay, so there are three main things we have to take care of: food, cave decorations, and the tree. Based on each of your abilities, I'll put you in groups of three and give you something to do.

"M'gann, you've been eager to learn about cooking here on Earth, so I'll let you take care of the food. Connor, you can help M'gann, and Red Tornado, you can supervise and learn a few things about human food. Here's the list of dishes we've decided on serving. If you could finish those within the next week, that'd be great." Excitedly, the Martian teen takes the list from her hands, flying quickly into the kitchen, the Kryptonian and android following.

"Next are the decorations for the cave. Robin, you're good with technical things like this, and Kaldur, you should be able to get things done quickly and efficiently. Batman, I think you'd have a little fun with decorations, so here you are." She bends over and takes a box stuffed with lighting and other Christmas whatnot, carefully handing it to the Caped Crusader. In a few minutes, each and every box has been transferred to the other side of the room.

As the second group sets to doing their task, she looks at the remaining three supers and sighs, heavily. "Wally, you're pretty quick in doing things, so I think you'll be able to handle the Christmas tree. Zatanna, your magic should definitely make height something not to worry about, and Artemis, you seem to have a good sense in style, so I won't worry about it looking. . . odd."

The speedster flashes a comical smile at her, but not before transporting the remaining decoration boxes to the Christmas tree. Rolling their eyes, the magician and the archer walk over to the boxes and begin to assess their contents. Breathing deeply, the blonde femme fatale makes her way to the "therapy room", as the others called it. Sitting on the table inside is a waiting telephone and an endlessly long list of who knows how many supers. It's going to be a very, very lengthy day for Dinah Lance.

***

"So, beautiful, where do we start?" The shifty ginger stares back and forth from her to the boxes, eager to get started. She shuffles through the things, pulling out ornaments both bought and handmade, surveying them carefully. Eventually, she's sorted the bought ones into groups based on appearance, deciding to spread them out evenly across the tree. The handmade ones, however, are more unique and will be used as a finishing touch.

Gesturing to the organized groups, she finally replies, "Just spread these out so that the tree doesn't look empty anywhere. After that, we'll take care of the handmade ones, maybe even add a few of our own things. You know, arrows, gadgets, the like." Pausing, she shifts her stare to solely him, eyebrows raised. "Can the Kid Flash handle that?"

He glares at her irritably as he makes his way towards the ornaments, taking three or so in his two hands. She's about to rant on him when her magical friend rests a hand on her shoulder, reminding her of something. "Let boys be boys. In the end, it'll come back and hit 'em hard, right where they need it." Winking, Zatanna raises her hands and begins to chant a spell, causing the ornaments to hover obediently to their spots on the tree.

Satisfied, Artemis takes a seat on the hard floor, now taking a look towards the handmade ornaments. There's a whole variety, ranging from supers' logos to their actual weapons and belongings, if sizeable. There's one in particular that she's drawn towards, a gold locket designed to take on the appearance of the Flash's logo. Making sure that Wally isn't looking, she quietly pops open the locket, staring curiously at the picture inside.

It looks like one taking maybe five years back, with Wally's hair shorter and more ruffled. He stands front and center in the picture, grinning like a fool. Standing behind him are two people, another redhead and a brunette, their arms around each other as they laugh. On either side of them, are an old man and who she thinks is his wife, smiling like any other grandparents would.

The lonely archer can't help but smile at the picture, smile at what seems to be the perfectly happy family, smile at how simply adorable the kid in the front looks like that. Closing the locket, she sets it aside in a pile meant for ornaments to be used. It has a certain warmth to it in her hand, probably from being stuck in between cloths in the box. However, she can't help but think that there's some sort of molecule vibrator inside, warming the precious locket.

All the while, he's watching her, sneaking glimpses in between hangings of ornaments. He knows it's not supposed to be there, knows that it's something he sadly lost a few years back at one of the League's earlier Christmas parties. He's about to take it back from her, when he sees the sad smile on her face. It shouldn't hold him back, but it does, its essence seeping into the depths of his heart.

Sighing, he continues to work, taking two or three ornaments at a time because he knows it'll annoy the hell out of her. But as much as he tries to pay attention to the tree, his thoughts always waver to that sad smile on her face, curiosity gnawing voraciously at him. Finally, when the empty spots of the tree are too high for him to reach, he makes his way towards her. Her eyes widen as she feels the sudden brush of wind against her neck.

"Yes?" She tries to hide the nervousness in her voice, forcefully replacing it with bitterness and sarcasm. He hesitates, biting his tongue down in concentration, but a few seconds later, seemingly plausible words come to him. "So, that locket. . ."

"Is it yours?" Her eyes are narrowed menacingly, hiding the slight worry she has at the thought of it really being his. She doesn't want him to take it away, doesn't want for him to snatch away that picture perfect happiness she longs for.

"Sort of. I got it a few years ago as gift and lost it, but. . ." He cautiously picks up the locket, brushing his thumb against its metallic surface. The locket slowly pops open, and instantly the warm memories wash over him. It wasn't a normal Christmas that year, but more of a Flash oriented celebration. That had been the year he joined Barry in his so-called fight for justice, the year that everyone could laugh about all the adventures.

He's brought back to Earth when he hears her voice, a certain innocence evident within it. Her head is turned away from him, her arms folded plainly across her chest. "Y-you can keep it if you want. I wasn't planning on using it anyway." Distractedly, she turns to the other ornaments scattered on the floor, trying to busy herself.

He's surprised by her sudden reaction, surprised by how touchy she's being on the topic of a simple locket. But like the Wally West he is, all he does is sadly mumble an indistinct "thanks". Turning the other way, he makes a dash for the kitchen fridge, in an attempt to sneak some chocolate ice cream or cake. The locket jumps against the skin of neck, making a soft, clinking sound.

The rest of the afternoon slowly progresses, with enticing smells of a welcoming Christmas dinner wafting in from the kitchen. Gradually, the cave begins to glow red, green, and blue, what with the excellent lighting system that Robin has managed to hook up. The tree, as well, is on its way to a wonderful completion, with most of the ornaments in place.

As Artemis hangs a handmade Green Arrow logo on the tree, the eminent sound of a phone rings throughout the room. Letting go of the hung ornament, she digs into her pocket, pulling out an emerald green cell phone. Pressing a button, she brings the device to her ear, listening intently.

"Artemis, do you know what time it is?" The obvious voice of her mother rings her eardrums a little, prompting her to push the phone slightly away.

"Um, eight?"

"Yes, eight. It's almost dinnertime and you're still not home. Young lady, I demand you get down here this instant."

"But-

"No buts. Now."

A beep sounds on the other end, an indication that her mother has angrily hung up. Her mother, the strict, moody Korean woman she lives with in Gotham. As close as the tree is to being done, there's still quite a bit left to do, enough to keep her there for at least two more hours. Zatanna's already left, as her father thinks she's been at a friend's house the whole afternoon.

Silently groaning at what she's about to do, the archer stalks over to the other end of the Christmas tree, where the obvious redhead is humming Jingle Bells. Noticing her figure, he stops, turning expectantly toward her. He thinks she's about to finally rant on him for being so careless with the ornaments, but what comes out of her mouth is something he definitely didn't expect.

"Turns out that I have to be home for dinner, so I'm leaving you in charge of the tree for the rest of the night. I don't care if you don't finish it, just don't do anything stupid. If there's nothing wrong with it tomorrow afternoon, you have no idea how happy I'll be. Get it?"

He nods slowly at first, the bobbing of his face gradually speeding up. There's that same foolish grin from the picture in the locket plastered onto his face, the same, innocent grin that made her smile. Rolling her eyes, she walks away, waving her hand lazily behind her back. In a few seconds, she's gone, and he is automatically set on "hyper-decorating mode".

"Alright, time to do some real decorating!" The others currently present in the cave flinch at the sudden outburst, deciding to expect the worst from their fellow archer the next morning. Turning back to their work, they try to ignore the dashing redhead as he completely redecorated the tree, from top to bottom. Of course, ignoring the actions of Wally West are simply too difficult to ignore.

Whizzing back and forth between points on the tree, the speedster switches around the ornaments, completely changing the tree's original appearance. The once organized array of colors and size becomes completely uneven, mismatching and random gaps varying from here to there. Yet in a way, the whole disarray seems to fit together, giving it more of a jubilant, careless feel.

An hour or two passes as Wally busies himself in the tree; Dick has already left, along with Batman. M'gann and Connor have just come out of the kitchen, heading towards their rooms. Eventually, Aqualad, too, makes his way towards his bedroom for a good night's sleep. The only other person left to give the redhead company is Black Canary, who has shifted herself and her supplies to the main hall.

The blonde often glances up from her work, smiling at the teenager's clever decorating skills. As uneven and unorganized she finds the tree, she finds it symbolizing of one important thing: the League itself. As perfect as the life of a super may seem to any normal person, it's actually quite the opposite.

She has to admit, there are many supers within the League who are well off. But this number of people doesn't even amount to half of the number of supers with problems. There are so many people, so many special people she knows who have a life of hell just because of their other personas. Their lives themselves are a picture perfect image of disarray, just like the thirty foot tree standing in front of her.

"Hey, babe, is the star missing or something?" The super is suddenly brought out of her thoughts by the redhead's voice, and she looks up at him in question. The star? It shouldn't be missing; I put in back in the box last year.  

"I don't think so. But if you can't find it. . ." She sighs and takes a sticky note, jotting something down in her quick, fluent cursive. "I guess I'll just have to buy another one tomorrow."

He nods and turns back to the tree, beginning to hang the remaining twenty or so ornaments. After a while, there's only two left, then one, then no ornaments at all. He stands back to survey his work, grinning satisfyingly at the tree. Finally, his gaze irritably shifts to the empty spot at the top, where a bright, sparkling star is supposed to rest peacefully.
  
But then a thought comes to mind, one he face palms himself for not thinking of before. What stands in front of him is no ordinary Christmas tree, but a super Christmas tree. If the ornaments are made for supers, shouldn't the topper be just as well? He furrows his brow, trying to think of something the archer would like, wanting to do something nice for the hard working member.

Suddenly, his eyes brighten and he dashes off towards the bedrooms, his breeze slightly shuffling Black Canary's list. She stares at his vanishing figure, wondering what he's gone to do. He's probably going to hit the sack. I mean, who would work on Christmas things at ten-thirty in the night? . . . Oh, wait. Me.

A few minutes later, he's back, carrying a shining, golden object in his hands. Her eyes widen is surprise as she realizes what he's trying to do. She smiles, humored by his innocence and cleverness at coming up with the idea. Intently, she watches him climb the ladder, watches him place the object gently on top of the tree.

And lastly, she watches him gather his things and head towards the zeta tubes. He waves her a good night, then disappearing into the bright, blue light. She raises her hand lazily, contentedly waving back. Sighing, she looks down at the list laid out in front of her. About a third of the names listed are neatly crossed off in dark blue ink. Deciding to call it a night, she puts her things away and disappears into the night, greatly satisfied.

MT. JUSTICE
December 16, 10:13 a.m.

She strides in confidently, actually expecting a perfectly decorated Christmas tree, topper and all, to appear before her. But before she can do that, she makes her way towards the kitchen, not to mention the awaiting chocolate pudding cup. Ripping off the wrapper on top, she voraciously digs into the pudding, a satisfied "mmm" escaping her mouth.

It's then that she heads towards the Christmas tree, still completely expecting her picture perfect dream to be displayed in front of her. Taking another spoonful of pudding, she stood still, looking the display up and down. Slowly, the realization begins to sink in, its final bit coming in the form of her choking violently.

Her eyes blink back frantically as she stares in horror at her perfectly ruined display, her mouth twitching just a little. She reaches up to touch the tree, feeling the ornament that is a clear glass ball with fake snow hovering inside. Her eyes glance from ornament to ornament, carefully observing each change in her intricate design. It's only after a half hour of silence that her eyes fall upon the hanging locket, just near the top of the tree.

The light of the cave glints off of the object, making it glow almost like real lightning. In a helpless effort, she extends her hand out towards the object. Moving it just to where the locket looks as if its within grasp, she slowly tightens her fist. Bringing the closed hand to her chest, she holds it there, caressing it and the memory residing inside. It's something she knows she will never forget, as long lives as she lives, past that even.

Looking up to the Christmas tree once more, she finds the topper, a powerful yet warming object she can't help but admire. It's a golden helmet with two eyeholes, polished efficiently to where it shines brighter than anything else in the room. In fact, the object seems to glow abnormally more than anything she's ever seen.

The whispers floating from above barely nudge her ear, giving it slight warmth. She listens intently, observing that these are the words of the deceased Kent Nelson. "Find your own little spitfire, one who won't let you get away with nothin'. For example, that. . ." Her eyes widen at the last few words, and she thinks back to the short conversation she had with the redhead after the mission.

As if fated, the very person she's thinking about makes his way lazily into the room, walking towards her. Once he's next to her, he stops, taking a while to actually wake himself up. He yawns a little, his mischievous, green eyes blinking back slowly. Finally, in an attempt to break the silence, she asks, asks him a simple question.

"You did this?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Thought I'd change up a few things. It looked to normal the way you did it."

"Uh-huh."

"What? Lemme guess, you don't like it?" He eyes her expectantly, a childish pout evident on his face.

"N-no. It's. . . different. I like it." She smiles, deciding that she's satisfied with the result, satisfied with the memory enclosed within her fist. He's a little surprised at first by her calm reactions, but eventually, a smile, too, surfaces on his face. And they stand there, ogling at  the beautiful display that will surely be the center of attention as of today.

But something breaks the moment, another question that she just can't help but ask. She's not sure how he'll react, but however he does, she knows she'll be alright with it. As she speaks, her voice has a certain humor to it, teasing him beyond repair. "So, I'm a spitfire, huh?"

He face burns a scarlet red as he stutters, completely at a loss for words. She grins successfully, never having felt better. Leaning over, she whispers something softly into his right ear, smiling carelessly as she speaks. He stops stuttering, listening to her soft, quiet words, which, oddly, seem to warm him.

Once she's done, she leans back, walking towards a now awake M'gann and Connor. She waves them over, gesturing excitedly to the tree in front of them. They all marvel at it, noticing the little things that seem to make it more and more unique. The redhead stretches his head back, his eyes finding the holes in the golden helmet. "Thanks. . ." he mutters, then turning back to his friends.

His arm brushes hers softly as he walks over, and she glances over at him questioningly. Hastily, he whispers two words into her own right ear, making the movement so speedily that not even the others recognize he's stirred more than an inch in that second. They then stare at the two, as the blonde laughs hysterically, shoving him roughly with her elbow. But all he does is grin, grin like the ridiculous fool in love he is.  

From above, the invisible face of an old man hovers in the air, his gaze particularly settled on the two interesting teens he was well enough to meet before his "death". As peaceful as they are at the moment, he knows they won't always be like that. But now that he's given them a little push in the right direction, he knows they'll be alright. His face begins to fade into the air, and as he slowly disappears, he says aloud, "Don't mention it, kid."

The redhead feels the words brush gently against his earlobe, and he turns around to once more face the tree. He looks around for the person from which the words might have come, but finds no one. The old man is already gone, having disappeared into the golden helmet that he hosted for so many years. He is gone, waiting to be united with his beloved Inza, waiting to be united with his own little spitfire.