open the cage...

"YOU KEEP staring off into space," a voice said, startlingly close to Artemis's ear. "What's up with that?"

It was a few minutes past five, meaning he had finally finished his lessons for the day, and most parents had already picked up their kids. All except-

"Kate," Artemis sighed. "We talked about personal space, no?"

Kate Bishop rolled her eyes but leaned back on the stool she was perched on, balancing on its back legs. "But I'm bored."

"You're always bored here." This was true; Kate never failed to let Artemis know how much she would rather be practicing archery than throwing pottery. He refrained from pointing out how, despite her boredom, she was always the first one seated for the lessons he taught, how she always sat in the front, ready with a snarky quip and an impish grin.

She huffed. "I know, but Mom says she's running late, so what am I supposed to do?" She shoved her phone in his face, a text from Mrs. Bishop on the small screen.

Artemis winced. He didn't mind Kate, but his pain had been acting up in spite of his medication lately, and he was very much looking forward to going to sleep early that night. But that all depended on how soon he could get to the store and get more food-for both him and Kotik. A glance out the studio window showed the already setting sun; at this rate, it would be dark by the time he got anything done.

"...Fine. You can sit there, or you can help me clean," Artemis told Kate eventually, realizing he would be in charge of the young girl until her mother arrived-Estelle had left early, asking him to close up shop for the day.

Kate rolled her eyes, and he half expected her to stay seated and play on her phone or something. Instead, she stood, grabbing the empty slip bucket off the center of the table and heading for the sink.

There was a brief silence, and before Artemis could have the mind to cherish it, he turned toward her. "Is everything okay?"

Kate did little more than glance his way, still washing out the bucket, her forearms splattered with off-white clay. "Yeah, why?"

He shrugged. "Your mother is one of the most punctual people I've ever met. Why's she running so late?"

Turning the sink off, Kate shifted from foot to foot. "It's my dad's birthday," she admitted eventually. "It's been a few years since he's passed, but Mom still gets weird about it every time."

Artemis froze, wincing. Estelle had off-handedly mentioned Kate's late father once; he was a nice enough man who had unfortunately passed in the Invasion of New York. "Sorry for your loss."

"It's fine," she said, turning off the sink. She returned to her original seat, placing the bucket back on the table. "I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to, though," he insisted, grabbing a rag and wiping down tables. "You should have time to remember him, not be here alone. Or at least to grieve in your own way."

Kate said nothing for a moment. "I'm not alone, though." Wringing out a wet rag, she turned off the sink. "It may be a little boring here, but I still like it."

Artemis snorted. "Ah, the highest of compliments--hey!" He raised his arm to guard his face as Kate slung the rag at him, water droplets splattering on his clothes and face. "What was that for?" He tried to feign anger but could barely contain his bubbling laughter.

Kate shrugged, rag still in hand, her face the perfect picture of innocence. "Making things interesting."

Slowly, Artemis grabbed his own rag from where he had left it abandoned on the table. "Oh-ho, are you?"

"Kate! There you are!" Eleanor Bishop stepped into the room, pristine heels clicking on the old, discolored tile.

Instantly, Kate shifted, putting the rag on the table and straightening as she met her mother's gaze. "Yup," she said, clearing her throat. "Right where you left me."

Eleanor scoffed good-naturedly, waving an unconcerned hand. "Oh, Kate, you make it sound so horrible. You know this is good for you."

Artemis watched Kate clench her jaw and her fists, biting back her words. But her eyes flittered toward him, and something seemed to come into place for her, her resolve for keeping peace with her mother replaced by something else. "For you," she mumbled.

"Pardon me?" Her mother blinked, her head jerking back as if she had been struck.

"This might help you cope and forget," Kate continued, voice growing louder, "and that's great! But not for me! I-I don't--it's not--" she began to stutter as her confidence crumbled as quickly as it came, and Artemis averted his gaze when he noticed tears welling in her eyes.

Instead, he looked to Eleanor with narrowed eyes, head tilted ever so slightly, gauging her reaction.

Eleanor said nothing for a moment, eyeing her daughter with a pinched mouth. Finally, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, composing herself. "I understand," she said, her voice deliberately even. Her eyes flitted briefly to meet Artemis's flat stare before looking back at her daughter. "We can talk about this more in the car; we're late enough as it is." Waving her hand, she beckoned Kate to follow her. "Mr. Bell," she said with a nod as the two left.

He squinted as he watched them leave. Eleanor's demeanor was clearly (to him) practiced and carefully in place, but while he had no reason to suspect the worst from her, it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on her, for Kate's sake.

♘

Nothing about that night was unusual-not at first. Artemis strolled down the sidewalk, watching in vague fascination as his breath spilled from his lips in a white fog. The cold had long since seeped into his bones, and the tips of his fingers were growing numb. He let a shudder roll through his body, the cold feeling good against the dull aches in his arms. He ended up staying late in the studio that evening regardless of the Bishops, working on extra pieces for a charity auction Estelle had decided to host later that week ("Lots of places are doing them, Artemis; it's all over social media.") and had clearly lost track of time. Though the cold helped to soothe the ever-present aches near the base of his spine and his neck, his body still made its protests about sitting crouched over a pottery wheel for hours known.

An ice bath sounds good tonight, he mused, sniffing. But trying to buy ice this late would be a pain. He had already decided to push his trip to the grocery store off until early tomorrow morning as he started to feel the fatigue settle deep in his body. Artemis also knew he needed to check his schedule once he made it home; he knew he had classes tomorrow, but the times were fuzzy-just out of his mind's reach.

"I told you to shut up already!"

"Please, god, no--"

Tensing, Artemis immediately slowed, putting a hand on the cold brick next to him, his body moving to stand flush with the wall and his ears straining as he tried to listen. Looking in the reflection of the glass windows in the next building, he saw four armed men cornering a young woman. Artemis huffed.

Sorry, Kotik. I will be late tonight.

The men's backs were to the opening of the alley, and Artemis slowly crept closer, keeping a hand along the wall. If things went south (or further south than he was expecting), he could only hope to outlast them. His pain wasn't the worst it had ever been, and he had his pistol concealed close to his chest if he needed it. He prayed he wouldn't.

Though he tried to be quiet (even if he didn't necessarily need it, the element of surprise was always appreciated), one wrong step and pain flared in his knee, sending him stumbling. The scuffling as he straightened himself was loud, and the men turned.

The first man eyed him with a scoff. "You lost or something?" He asked, not moving his gun away from the woman.

Grunting, Artemis straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Not really. You all aren't exactly quiet, you know."

"Listen, this doesn't concern you," The second said, his bright red jacket seemingly a poor choice as it made him stand out among the others.

Artemis hummed, feigning nonchalance as he balanced himself against the bricks. "See, but I think we do have a problem," he said quietly, sizing them up as he spoke. The first was the only man with a gun; the rest were armed with knives, including the two holding the woman in place. "I mean..." He interrupted himself by lunging for the first thug, wrenching his gun from his hands.

The other men began yelling, waving their knives and calling out for the man he grabbed-Brian, they called him, but Artemis stepped back, one arm wrapped firmly around Brian's neck and his other holding the gun against his temple. Despite the pain in his hips and spine creating stars in his peripheral vision, he tightened his grip as the man struggled, forcing a smirk when he choked under the pressure.

"Do not move," he ordered, breathing heavily through gritted teeth, "or else-" He made a gunshot noise. "Clear?"

The other men said nothing, just staring wide-eyed at Artemis with their knives raised. The taller of the remaining three, his red curly hair certainly giving him at least an inch, took a step forward but immediately moved back at Artemis's glare. The third man, sporting the ugliest goatee Artemis had ever seen, and Jacket shifted their grip on the woman, knives still held to her throat.

He gritted his jaw, patience wearing thin. "I said clear?" He bellowed, pressing the gun closer and digging the barrel into Brian's temple.

As they muttered their assents, Artemis relaxed minutely. "Good," he said. Nodding to the woman, he continued, "Let go of her." They did as he said, sending her stumbling to the side. He looked at her. "Now, get the fuck out of here."

Without waiting for anyone else to react, the woman jumped up on shaky legs and sprinted out of the alley. As her footsteps faded, he turned his focus back to the men, who were all still staring at him uneasily. "Okay. Now-"

Someone slammed into him from behind, sending Artemis, Brian, and the gun flying. As his vision cleared, he saw Daredevil standing over Brian, though his masked face was pointed toward Artemis.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He rose, rubbing the new scrape on his cheek from the collision, huffing when his hand came away bloody. Great.

Daredevil didn't answer him. "You need to get out of here," he ordered, and Artemis rolled his eyes at the typical tough-guy vigilante growl.

"No, thank you," he replied. He may have been out of reach of the thug he was holding onto, but Daredevil had so kindly shoved him in the direction of the other men. Curly tried to stab him, but Artemis sidestepped the motion, grabbing the hand holding the knife and squeezing until he felt bones crack and the knife dropped.

"Frankly--" he continued, yanking Curly's arm and throwing him over his shoulder, ignoring him as he wheezed on the ground, already moving toward Goatee and Jacket. "I was handling this quite well before you got here."

"This is my city," was Daredevil's only response as he punched Brian in the face, and the man crumpled instantly, his hands cupping his eye as he curled up on the ground. "You have no business here. Leave."

Artemis tried for a laugh, but it didn't quite work as he tried to dodge Jacket and Goatee. His leg buckled with a twinge of pain, and he only narrowly avoided Jacket's knife, grabbing his arm instead and jerking him closer. Jaw set, he rolled his shoulders back and rammed himself forward to meet him, slamming his forehead into Jacket's nose with a loud crunch, blood spurting instantly. As Jacket collapsed, he tried to blink away the returning stars from his eyes, wiping the blood off his forehead. "Easier said than done," he quipped, distantly wondering if he ever remembered to buy hydrogen peroxide.

Daredevil snarled, and Goatee paused, head whipping between the two like he was weighing his options. "I'm not in the mood for games! I won't tell you again."

"Christ, what did I ever do to you? What do you want from me?" Artemis asked, only half joking. Though he could understand the Devil's initial distrust, this was starting to become ridiculous. He'd love to know just what he did to invoke his ire. He was at least ninety-five percent sure he hadn't done anything especially illegal or immoral that would make Daredevil so angry, but he seemed to think differently.

The vigilante all but snarled again, swinging out to land another punch as Goatee decided to try his luck. "I want you to stop lying!"

Artemis scoffed uneasily. "When would I have the chance to lie to you? I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you're not really Artemis," Daredevil barked, grabbing Goatee's fist after the thug's admittedly poor attempt at a sucker punch.

He faltered. "What?" He breathed, watching the vigilante with wide eyes as he slammed the man to the ground. He felt uncharacteristically off, his heart in his stomach.

"You heard me," Daredevil snapped, not even looking at him, "I know you're lying about who you are, Bell. I know that's not even your real name, either."

Your real name. For some reason, that hit Artemis the hardest, and he all but wheezed. The words echoed in his head until his ears rang, and the floor seemed to fall out from under him. How? It hadn't even been a month yet; how had he been found out so quickly?

As if things couldn't get worse, his body decided it wouldn't stand for being ignored, and a wave of pain swept across his hips and legs. Artemis stumbled, trying to stay upright and focused. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to stand up, facing Daredevil, whose attention seemed to be just behind Artemis.

"Behind you!" Daredevil shouted, lunging.

Immediately, Artemis crumpled, ducking and rolling out of the way, ignoring how his vision almost whited out from the pain in his hips. From his new position on the pavement, he just managed to see Daredevil grappling Brian, who had been previously on the ground (falsely) presumed to be unconscious. Just as he swung the final blow, the man got a lucky hit in, swiping Daredevil's helmet off and sending it skittering to the back corner of the alley.

Four things happened at once. The man thumped to the ground, finally knocked out. Daredevil ducked his head, hands going up to block his face. He yelled at Artemis, "Look down now!" Unfortunately, the fourth thing was this: Artemis saw Daredevil's face.

Or rather, he saw Matthew's face. 

Artemis instinctively dropped his head, facing his lap when Matthew told him to, but it was still too late. He didn't look up as he heard him grab his helmet, clicking it back into place. Artemis's heart was thundering from all the revelations he had in less than one minute. Daredevil knew he was lying about everything, and Matthew was Daredevil, meaning Matthew knew that he was lying about everything.

Fucking fantastic.

Artemis considered his gun, still resting in its holster under his jacket, as his thoughts spiraled further. How did Matthew know? How was Matthew Daredevil? Actually, scratch the last one. Artemis had seen more unbelievable feats than a blind man fighting crime at night. Did he have super senses? Still looking at the ground, Artemis forced himself to stand, but before he could consider any answers to his questions, the pain reminded him it was still there. His vision blurred as his whole body seemed to scream, and he fell against the wall, breathing heavily.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and Artemis hazarded a look up. Even with the mask back on, obscuring the entire upper half of his face, Matthew, no, Daredevil, looked furious.

Catching his breath, Artemis shook his head. "I don't want to fight you," he requested quietly.

Daredevil responded with a snarl, lunging forward, and Artemis closed his eyes for the blow, only to be met with the sound of a fist hitting the brick wall behind them, his other hand blocking Artemis against the wall.

"You saw my face," he said in a tone near animalistic.

Artemis nodded. "I did."

"You saw my face," he repeated.

"Trust me," Artemis grumbled, once again considering his gun, "I'd love to stay far, far away from you or any of this."

Daredevil snarled again but forced himself to step back. "Too late. You know who I am, but I don't know you. I can't trust you." When Artemis offered no answer, no solution, he continued, "I swear, if I find out you've-"

"I don't appreciate the accusations," Artemis snapped back, his ire growing exponentially. He just wanted to be home and in bed, and he was really missing Kotik. His whole body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to not be awake for it. "You were the one that has targeted me the whole time I have been here. What the fuck do you want from me?"

"To stop lying," Daredevil repeated, fists clenched. "I know that this whole façade is a lie. Your name, your voice, all of it. I need you to stop lying because I don't trust you in my city."

Artemis swallowed, jaw set. He had a few options. One, he could continue to deny, which would probably end in a fight, something he certainly didn't have the energy for. Two, he could skip straight to the fight, which, again, would not be in his favor. Three, he could come clean, throwing away his, Damien, and even Estelle's hard work just for the sake of a paranoid vigilante. None were particularly appealing. Taking another shuddering breath, Artemis leaned back against the wall. Though rough and irritating, the bricks were cold and soothing for his pain, and he slouched back.

"Fine," he said eventually. His carefully crafted accent, the persona of Artemis, began to fall away, and he crossed his arms as he leaned his head back, looking down his nose at Matthew. "You want the truth? I will give it to you."

♘

wc: 3.1k

status: edited

no author's note or meme this chapter! this is a double feature, so go ahead to the next one!