Archive of Our Own

I: SON OF THE DEMON.

Roy.

Roy was helping Lian get ready for school, braiding her hair in the upstairs bathroom, when Jason came thundering up the stairs, shouting, “Hey, babe, there’s another one!”

He peeked his head in the bathroom. Lian turned to look at him, grinning with her gap-toothed smile – the tooth fairy had given her a twenty last night, because Roy had left Jason in charge of that particular duty and he was a pushover – and ruining Roy’s progress on her hair.

“Another what?” Roy asked, trying and failing to mask his annoyance. Roy loved Jason with all his heart, but he was the worst person to have around in the mornings when Roy was on a schedule and needed to get Lian to the bus stop and himself to work in a timely manner.

“Bruce has a new kid,” Jason said, and now Roy was looking over at him too.

“You can’t be serious,” he deadpanned, trying to salvage Lian’s braid so he didn’t have to start over again. “He just adopted Cass. And Tim, not that long ago.”

“I know,” Jason agreed, “But you wouldn’t believe where this one came from.”

“Let me think… We’ve got one kid from the circus, one who stole his tires, a rich kid who figured out his secret identity, and a child assassin. Is this one…” Roy paused and thought for a moment. He saw Jason jerk his head meaningfully in Lian’s direction. Roy looked down at Lian, then back up at Jason, then back down at Lian again, frowning. And then it hit him. “Oh, secret kid with a former flame!”

“Bingo,” Jason said with a wink and finger guns. Dick was rubbing off on him. Roy was going to have to put a stop to that.

“So this one’s biological? That’s complicated,” Roy said from experience, though he’d worked through a lot of his resentment toward Connor lately. It wasn’t Connor’s fault he had a special relationship with Ollie that Roy had never had. And Connor had plenty of Ollie-related grievances of his own that he and Roy had since bonded over. “Who’s the mom? Because if it’s Talia, I want it on record that I had a secret kid with an assassin first.”

“Actually, you didn’t,” Jason informed him. “This kid’s ten.”

“Wait, he’s ten and you didn’t know about him? Didn’t you spend, like, two years with Talia?”

“Yeah, she must have kept him from me,” Jason said with a shrug. “Maybe she thought I’d be a bad influence.”

“You probably would have been.”

“He’s an assassin too,” Jason added. “He’s got swords.”

“Wow, two child assassins?” Roy remarked. He shook his head. “Bruce has so many kids he’s starting to repeat himself. Does this kid have a name?”

“Damian.”

“How’d you find out about him? Did I miss a call from Dick?”

“Tim told me, actually,” Jason said. Jason had regular lines of communication open with three members of his family at the moment. First, Dick, who Jason regularly talked to of his own accord and even visited in person, an easy feat now that Dick lived in New York with Roy. Everyone had expected Dick to move to Gotham after Blüdhaven was destroyed, but it seemed Dick was still determined to maintain his own identity, separate from Bruce. Roy commended him for it.

Next was Alfred, who Jason had made a conscious effort to bring back into his life. Alfred reminded him too much of the past, which made things difficult, and sometimes Jason overextended himself, tried to do too much all at once, and had to retreat into himself for a while to recover. Alfred respected this, and never pushed.

And finally, there was Tim. Tim was Jason’s semi-neutral source within the family. He didn’t have history with Jason, plus he tended to deliver family news with more of an emphasis on facts and less editorializing compared to, for example, Dick. Roy saw a lot less of Tim after the Teen Titans’ dissolution. After Kon’s death. Tim was a lot more withdrawn these days. Roy couldn’t blame him. Additionally, Roy and Jason were two of the only openly queer people Tim knew, and Roy knew they’d been helpful during Tim’s process of self-discovery, but he was out now, and he didn’t need as much help.

Tim did talk to Roy about one thing, though. Something only Roy knew about. Tim hadn’t even wanted him to tell Jason. It was something Roy was uniquely qualified to help Tim with, which was the matter of having a dead soulmate. This was Roy’s only secret from Jason, and even then, he felt guilty about keeping it sometimes, but it wasn’t his secret to share, and there was enough trust between them (despite Jason’s trust issues) that he felt confident it wouldn’t disrupt their relationship.

Finally, Jason didn’t talk to Bruce, except to relay pertinent mission-related information. Even then, he’d tried to rely on Barbara as a go-between for a while before she’d told him off for taking advantage of her services. And Jason hadn’t seen Bruce out of costume, and vice versa, a single time since Jason’s return to Gotham. Not once.

Roy was proud of Jason’s journey so far, and he had no plans to push Jason to make any changes that Jason himself didn’t want to make. If Jason never wanted to have a relationship with Bruce outside of Bat business, Roy didn’t have a problem with that.

In the meantime, Roy had his hands full with his own family relationships. Ollie had been on his best behavior lately, but it hadn’t been that long since Roy had decided to actually give him a chance; he was still bracing himself to be let down (again). Maybe it would hurt less this time if he told himself he was prepared for it (he wasn’t, and it wouldn’t, but he lied to himself anyway).

And while Jason was reconnecting with Dick and connecting with (Jason preferred to call it “tolerating,” but it was more than that) Tim, Roy was trying to become a bigger part of his siblings’ lives, because “oldest sibling who occasionally drops by with his daughter and won’t talk about his personal life unless Dinah is around to coax it out of him” was, admittedly, kind of a sad role to fill.

But now everything was thrown off, because Jason had a new sibling, apparently. Bruce’s first biological child. Damian.

Roy could see this going one of three ways. Either this new kid would be someone Jason got along with, which was a strong possibility, since the kid was ten and Jason was good with kids (Lian being the prime example). This would add one more person to the very short list of people Jason actually liked, a net positive for everyone. Or Jason and his siblings would all struggle to get along with the new kid, which would bring them closer together (at the expense of the new kid, though, which Roy would feel bad about).

Or Jason’s siblings would all get along with the new kid, but Jason wouldn’t, which would drive a wedge between them. This was, in Roy’s mind, the worst possible outcome, at least for Jason (who, no offense to the new kid, was the person Roy cared about most in this scenario).

Jason continued, “He says the new kid sucks, though, so I think I might like him.”

Okay, well, at least if Jason didn’t like the new kid either, he and Tim could bond over that.

“Who sucks?” Lian asked brightly, just as Roy tied off her braid with an elastic and a red ribbon to match her outfit, a red t-shirt and overalls embroidered with ladybugs. She looked adorable, as always.

“No one sucks,” Roy said, shooting Jason a look. “Jay was joking. Jay, that’s not a nice thing to joke about.”

“Yeah, Jay, that’s not nice,” Lian echoed.

Jason held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just repeating what Tim said.”

“Just because somebody else said it doesn’t mean you should say it,” Lian recited.

“Exactly right, princess,” Roy said.

Roy didn’t expect to see Jason that night. He figured the entire Wayne family would probably have their hands full with the new kid. But to his surprise, in the early hours of the morning, Jason burst through Roy’s basement door, into his makeshift base of operations, where Roy was stripping out of his Arsenal suit, having just returned home from patrol. Roy paused, sweaty and half-naked, and waited for Jason to stop and admire the view, and when he didn’t, he felt a little put out about it.

“Excuse me,” he said, gesturing to himself.

“Huh? Oh, hey,” Jason said, distracted. Then, taking another, longer look, “Oh, hey. Get the shower running, baby; you got room in there for two?”

After a long, hot (in more ways than one) shower, while they were both drying off in the basement bathroom, Jason said, apropos of nothing, “Damian sucks, by the way.”

Roy bit back a smirk. “Tim did warn you.”

“I thought he was exaggerating,” Jason said, lazily drying his hair with a towel, leaving it sticking up in all directions, “But no. He’s a total brat. It’s a real letdown.”

Roy grabbed a fresh pair of underwear out of the pile of clothes he’d brought down before leaving for patrol. Jason went digging in the overnight bag he’d brought with him. “What’s he like?” Roy asked.

“He’s so condescending,” Jason complained. “Like, I trained with Talia too, asshole. Just because I use guns instead of swords like a fucking medieval knight—”

“Let’s not throw medieval weaponry under the bus,” Roy interrupted, pulling a shirt over his head. He looked down at it. It was a bit tight around the arms. “Is this one of yours?”

“Huh?” Jason took a look at it. “Uh, maybe? I can’t keep track anymore. It’s yours now. It looks good on you.”

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“And I’m correct about that.” Jason pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Those were definitely Roy’s; Roy could tell by the way they fit around Jason’s thighs and ass. He bit his lower lip as he shamelessly indulged himself in a good, long look. Jason continued, “Oh, he’s also got this whole complex that he’s somehow more Bruce’s kid than the rest of us because they share DNA. Which doesn’t matter to me, obviously—”

“Obviously,” Roy echoed sarcastically. It definitely, definitely mattered to Jason. He just wasn’t ready to admit yet that he wanted to be – and feel like – part of his own family. He could lie to himself about it, but he couldn’t lie to Roy. Roy knew him too well.

Jason ignored Roy’s interruption. “But Dick has been Bruce’s kid longer than this kid has been alive,” he continued.

“Not to mention Tim and Cass,” Roy added.

“Exactly! And he talks like a fucking anime villain.”

Roy smirked at him. “You watch anime?”

“I’ve watched a little anime, yeah,” Jason admitted. “Who hasn’t?”

Roy shrugged. “I’ve got Lian, so it’s mostly Pokémon and Sailor Moon in this house.”

“And he thinks Bruce should just automatically make him Robin because he’s the ‘heir.’” Jason scoffed. “Newsflash, kid, Dick is the executor of the will; if anything, he’s the heir. And you have to earn Robin.”

“Either by inventing the role, stealing Bruce’s tires, or figuring out his secret identity,” Roy ticked off on his fingers.

“Hey, don’t forget Steph,” Jason pointed out. “Everyone forgets Steph.”

“Maybe Damian just needs to warm up to everyone,” Roy said. “Maybe he’s better when you get to know him.”

“I hope so,” Jason replied. “But I fucking doubt it.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe Talia didn’t raise him better than this. I blame her dad.”

II: STAGES OF GRIEF.

Jason.

Tim was acting squirrelly lately. Which meant he was definitely up to something.

Ever since Kon’s death, Tim had been… different. Not that Jason had known him that well before, but he’d gotten to know him well enough that he could tell that this Tim was not the same as that Tim. This Tim was a shell of his former self, practically a robot. On their joint missions, Tim didn’t engage with Jason’s banter. He went in, got the job done, and got out, with brutal efficiency. Jason could respect it, but it wasn’t much fun, and Jason liked to have a little fun on missions. He didn’t like to take this shit too seriously.

Jason had, of course, lost people before. He understood what Tim was going through. It was one of the topics he considered off-limits for teasing, along with Tim’s sexuality, his soulmate, his biological parents, and Steph.

Jason had briefly wondered if, perhaps, Tim had merely entered a new stage of grief, and that was why acting so weird. Not his usual, post-Kon weirdness, which Jason realized he should probably refer to as “depression,” since that was definitely what it was. No, this was a new brand of weirdness. Tim was avoiding everyone else as much as he could. He got hostile if anyone asked him too many questions about his personal life or what he was getting up to in his free time. He disappeared at random intervals for long periods of time. And he no longer had the Teen Titans as an excuse for these disappearances; he’d quit the team, and it had dissolved shortly after. Jason wanted to believe there was an innocent explanation, but he knew better. There was never an innocent explanation where his family was involved.

At first, Jason was determined not to get involved. Instead, he brought the matter to someone he thought might want to get involved: Dick.

“Have you noticed Tim acting weird lately?” he asked during one of his frequent visits to New York. Jason was in New York multiple times a week to visit Roy – whose family kept dropping hints that he should move back to Star City, which Jason couldn’t help but take a bit personally, even though Roy assured him it wasn’t – and he often dropped by Dick’s while he was there.

Dick wasn’t the same either, since the fall of Blüdhaven. All his old issues were back and bigger than ever; he was even more of a self-critical perfectionist who didn’t know how to let his guard down and take a fucking break than he had been when Jason had first met him. He was constantly on edge and waiting for the next major crisis. Or Crisis. Or whatever the superhero community was calling them these days. That shit was above Jason’s pay grade.

“Weird how?” Dick replied.

“I don’t know, just… weird.”

Dick shrugged. “He’s grieving, Jay. Kon was his best friend.”

Yeah, Jason wasn’t so sure about the whole “best friend” thing, but he kept that to himself. “He’s been acting especially weird lately, though. I think he’s up to something.”

“Tim is always up to something.”

“But you don’t think someone should look into it?”

Dick looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why don’t you?”

That was not the answer Jason was looking for.

Next, he took the matter to Roy, who didn’t know Tim nearly as well as Dick, but who had helped Tim out a bit with his sexuality crisis and who was far easier for Jason to convince. (His “but I died” routine was showing diminishing returns with Dick. Jason had, apparently, overused it. He’d thought it would last longer, but death just didn’t hit as hard as it used to these days.)

“Tim is acting weird lately.”

“Weird how?” Roy asked over a pile of dishes. Jason had cooked, so Roy was cleaning. Lian, meanwhile, was in the living room, coloring.

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “I can’t put my finger on it. I just get the feeling that he’s up to something.”

“He probably is,” Roy agreed. “Tim seems like the type of kid who’s always up to something.”

“See, that’s what Dick said.”

“Dick would know.”

“But don’t you think someone should… I don’t know, investigate?”

Roy loaded the freshly-rinsed dishes into the dishwasher. “Why don’t you?”

So here Jason was. In the Batcave. Waiting for Tim to come downstairs. Because no fucking way was Jason setting foot in the Manor for Tim. He hadn’t set foot in the Manor in five years and he wasn’t about to start now. That place was haunted, as far as he was concerned. Haunted by Bruce, and the ghost of fifteen-year-old Jason, who somehow still lingered despite Jason being back from the dead.

Tim came downstairs before Bruce did, thank God. He usually did. Jason had been banking on it, because he was not interested in seeing Bruce tonight. Or most nights. Really he only saw Bruce when he had to: on missions, when Bruce was in the cowl and Jason in his helmet, protective barriers between the two of them. And even then, pretty much all they did was argue.

“Jason,” Tim said with a brief wave, heading for the Batcave’s suit storage and pulling up his Robin costume. Bruce had finally gotten rid of the glass case that had once held Jason’s old Robin costume. Jason wouldn’t be willing to set foot in the Batcave either if it was still there.

“Timothy,” Jason replied. He was suited up, sans mask and helmet, because he wanted Tim to see his face but he also wanted to look intimidating. He’d put a lot of thought into this. Not that he would ever admit that to Tim, or anyone else. (Maybe Roy.)

Tim did a double take. Jason had never full-named him. “Um, what?”

Jason cut to the chase. “You’re up to something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was Tim’s immediate reply.

“Uh-huh,” Jason said. “The rest of this family might ‘respect your privacy’ or whatever, but I don’t. You’re up to something and I’m here to make sure it’s not something you or anyone else is going to regret.”

Tim looked both flattered and concerned. “Are you… worried about me?”

“Other people are worried about you, and I’m here to do their dirty work.”

“Aw, you do care,” Tim teased.

Jason ignored him. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Tim said, and Jason didn’t believe him for a second.

“You wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He raised one eyebrow dangerously. “Our family does a lot of stupid things when we’re grieving, and something tells me you’re no exception. So let’s go through the likely scenarios. Have you had any urges to take on a child protégé?”

Tim made a face. “I’m sixteen. I’m a child protégé.”

“Are you thinking of starting or dissolving any teams?”

“The Teen Titans already dissolved, and I’m not looking for a new team right now.”

“Getting back together with an ex?”

“Seeing how Steph is dead, no, I have no plans to get back together with her,” Tim said harshly. Jason felt a twinge of guilt at reminding Tim of yet another one of his recent losses, but he wouldn’t let it distract him.

“What about your friends’ exes?”

“I mean, I had a crush on Cassie once, but I don’t anymore. She’s just a friend.”

“Starting or joining a cult?”

“No. I’m not interested in that Superboy cult.”

“There’s a Superboy cult?” Jason shook his head. “Never mind. That’s irrelevant. Becoming or dating an assassin?”

“Seeing how getting with an assassin turned out for Bruce, I’m gonna stay the hell away from that,” Tim said, lip curling at the thought of Damian. He hated that kid almost as much as Jason had once hated Tim. Definitely more than Dick had ever resented Jason. It was a rite of passage in their family, it seemed. “And becoming an assassin, no. That’s all you.”

“Killing one of B’s rogues?”

“That’s actually just you.”

“Any other form of revenge?”

“Mm, not at the moment.”

“Moving to a different city?”

“No. Gotham is my home.”

“Yeah, okay, Bruce,” Jason said sarcastically, although he felt the same way about Gotham. “Let’s see, what could I be missing… Necromancy?”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “I’m not a magician, Jay.”

“Anything in the realm of necromancy?”

“...No.”

There it was. “You hesitated.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You’re doing necromancy.”

“I’m not!” Tim exclaimed fervently.

Jason smirked. “Tell me or I rat you out to the Big Man,” he threatened. Bruce took concerns about raising the dead pretty seriously.

“Rat me out for what?” Tim challenged.

“Necromancy,” Jason reiterated.

“I’m not doing necromancy!”

“Then you won’t care if I tell Bruce that you are.” Jason pointed up, indicating the Manor above them. “I’ll call him down here right now. Don’t think I won’t.”

Tim glared at Jason. Jason didn’t budge, didn’t blink. His smirk widened. He had Tim now.

“I’m not doing necromancy,” Tim insisted in a calmer tone of voice. Jason could tell it was a forced calm.

“We’ve already established that I don’t believe you,” Jason reminded him.

Tim glared some more. Jason took out his phone, navigated to Bruce’s contact, and held the screen up for Tim to see, finger hovering over the “call” button.

“Don’t make me count to three.”

Tim sighed. “Fine. You win.”

Jason put his phone away, grinning. “I always do. So, you’re trying to bring your friend back from the dead. This is, obviously, a terrible idea, but I’ll hear you out.”

“You’re one to talk,” Tim muttered.

“You’re deflecting,” Jason pointed out. “Tell me how you’re planning to bring Kon back.”

Another long pause. “So Kon was a clone, right?”

Jason immediately knew where this was going. “You’re not seriously thinking of cloning your soulmate.”

“I didn’t even say—” Jason shot Tim a look. “Okay, yes. I’ve been thinking about it. I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You know that’s not how soulmates work.”

“I don’t know that,” Tim said. “No one does.”

“It wouldn’t be the same person.”

“Genetically it would.”

“If you’re soulmates with one of a pair of identical twins, you’re not also soulmates with the other one,” Jason reasoned. “Anyway, he wouldn’t have the same memories. Unless you implanted those memories in him somehow, which is super fucking manipulative.”

“How is that manipulative?” Tim challenged.

“You’ve created new life just to force someone else’s memories into their head,” Jason explained. “You’d be forcing that person to be someone they’re not, because, as we’ve established, it wouldn’t be Kon. How is that not manipulative? Not to mention unethical as hell.”

“I don’t know if I would say that,” Tim argued, though his voice was getting quieter. He was seeing the logic behind Jason’s arguments. Good.

“Listen, kid,” Jason said, “You don’t have power over life and death. You’re a genius, not a god. If you want to try to play god, you might want to read Frankenstein first and see for yourself how that’s gonna go.”

Tim scoffed. “This is real life, Jason. It’s not a nineteenth-century novel.”

“Can you imagine how Kon would feel about this?” Jason asked, undeterred. “Did you even think about him, or were you only thinking about yourself?”

“I’m not the only one who misses him,” Tim pointed out.

“Kon wouldn’t want to come back like this.”

“You didn’t know him.”

“No, but I think I bring a unique perspective to the issue, don’t I?” Jason said, gesturing to himself. “Kid, when I tell you something is fucked up, you’d better believe it’s fucked up. I don’t want to have to threaten you, but if I catch you trying this shit again – and believe me, I’ll be watching – I’m taking it to Bruce, and you know he’ll take it to Clark.”

Tim looked torn. “You don’t get it,” he tried to say. “You don’t know—”

Jason snapped. “Oh yeah, you’re the only person in the world who’s ever grieved someone. Get over yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Tim retorted, though without much heat behind it. He wasn’t angry. Not really. He was sad. He knew Jason was right about Kon, and he hated it. Jason could tell, because he’d felt the same way many times before: knowing he was wrong about something and hating it.

“Cut that shit out or I tell Bruce,” Jason reiterated. “This is your final warning.”

He donned his mask, then his helmet, and then he left the Cave.

III: AN OFFER HE CAN’T REFUSE.

Roy.

It was late enough that Lian was asleep, but not so late that the night nanny had arrived to keep an eye on her while Roy went on patrol. He was in his basement working out the kinks in one of his prototype trick arrows when his security system beeped, an indicator that someone was about to approach his front door. The night nanny, he assumed, a little early, but traffic might have been light. She had a key, but Roy liked to greet her before he left. It was only polite. He set his tools down and went upstairs, locking the basement door behind him.

Roy waited to hear the sound of a key in the door, but instead, he heard a knock. Had she left her keys at home? He checked the peephole. And then he sighed, unlocked the door, and opened it.

“What are you doing here?”

None other than Bruce Wayne himself was standing on Roy’s doorstep, dressed like he’d just come from his day job at Wayne Enterprises, in a suit and tie. “May I come in?” he asked. “I don’t want to be too conspicuous.”

“Sure, whatever,” Roy agreed, though his neighbors were pretty good at minding their own business and not asking questions. It was one of the reasons he liked New York. “Take a seat.”

Bruce entered and said, “I won’t be long.”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “Take a seat.” Bruce took a seat at Roy’s kitchen table. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”

“A glass of water, if you don’t mind.” At least Bruce had enough manners not to refuse. Alfred had taught him something.

“Still or sparkling?” Roy asked.

“Still.”

“Ice?”

“Yes, please.”

Roy poured Bruce a glass of ice water and set it down in front of him, then took the seat across from him at the table. “Talk.”

Roy wasn’t Bruce’s biggest fan. After everything Bruce had put Dick through, back in the day, and his questionable decisions after Jason’s return, Roy’s faith in Bruce’s parenting skills was at an all-time low. He respected Bruce as a hero, and as someone who did a lot of good even outside his hero work, and he knew Bruce’s parenting wasn’t all bad – he loved his kids, and he tried his best – but that was as far as Roy’s positive feelings toward the man went.

“I apologize for the late hour,” Bruce began. “I needed to speak with you about this in person. I was going to bring the matter to you officially in a different setting, with Clark and Diana present, but I thought it appropriate to run it by you first, one-on-one.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Clark and Diana?” What could they possibly have to do with this?

“I’ve already spoken to them, and they agree with my decision,” Bruce said cryptically.

“Your decision regarding what?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard we’re reforming the Justice League,” Bruce told him. “We’d like to offer you a position on the team.”

Roy froze.

“If you need time to think about it—”

“No.” The word was out before Roy had even really thought about it.

Once upon a time, joining the Justice League had been a dream. It was the ultimate sign that someone had made it as a hero. But under Roy’s current circumstances… No. He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Even though he’d once wanted this. Even though a part of him might still want it. It wasn’t the right move. “My answer is no.”

“You should consider it,” Bruce suggested.

“I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Bruce looked perplexed. “Explain.”

Roy raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” Bruce was serious. (Bruce was almost always serious.) “I was there when Wally joined the team. I saw how weird it was for Dick, knowing that his friend was working with you when the two of you weren’t on the best of terms. Now you want me to join? I’m dating Jason. He resents you even more than Dick did. I won’t put him in that position. I won’t put myself in that position.”

Roy fumbled around for additional reasons, because he knew this wouldn’t be enough for Bruce. “Besides, I have a lot going on in my life right now. I’m in a relationship for the first time in… a while. Lian is in school. I’m balancing living here with making time for my family on the other side of the country. I have work. I have a lot going on. I don’t need to be on a team right now, let alone your team. While I’m dating your son. Who resents you,” Roy reminded him again.

“Why do you even want me to join, anyway?” Roy continued. “You can’t have possibly approved of my involvement in Jason’s plan to take down the Joker.” A plan that had gone so wrong that Roy had ended up shooting the Joker in the heart with an electric arrow, just in time to stop the Joker from killing again. Jason had finished him off with a bullet to the brain, but the consensus was that he probably would have died anyway. Roy didn’t regret it.

“I wouldn’t have made the same decisions,” Bruce said diplomatically, “But the rest of your actions during Jason’s return to Gotham were… impressive.”

Roy’s eyebrows lifted even higher. “I lied to your entire family about something deeply important to you.” Namely, the fact that their son was a (living) crime lord who they were actively trying to bring down. That had not gone over well. It was in the past now, though, and Roy hadn’t faced any legal consequences for it, because he was a goddamn professional who didn’t leave evidence behind.

“You lied to us for our own benefit, for Jason’s, and for the benefit of Gotham, a city that isn’t even your own,” Bruce explained. “You prioritized the greater good over your own personal relationships. That shows strength.”

“Of course you would be impressed by that,” Roy scoffed. “Well, that doesn’t change my answer.”

“I’m offering you this position because I trust in your capabilities as a hero,” Bruce said. “You don’t think that would go over well with Jason? He thinks highly of you.”

“He does, but I don’t think he would see it that way.”

“I urge you to reconsider.”

“I urge you to get out of my house.”

Roy stood, signaling an end to the conversation. Bruce stood as well. His glass of ice water remained untouched on Roy’s kitchen table.

“The door remains open, if you change your mind,” Bruce said.

“Yeah, well, close my door on your way out,” Roy retorted.

He waited for Bruce to leave, and then he shut and locked the door behind him and went back downstairs.

Jason didn’t visit that night, but he was there the following day. He came by after Roy got home from work, Roy made dinner while Jason played with Lian, they all ate together, played with Lian some more, and put her to bed. They retired to Roy’s bedroom after, and when Jason tried to put the moves on Roy, Roy had to gently rebuff him.

“Hold on,” he said. “There’s something we need to talk about first.”

Roy didn’t relish the idea of telling Jason about his father’s offer, but he knew he couldn’t keep it a secret. There were certain things he didn’t have to tell Jason – like the identity of Tim’s soulmate, which was none of Jason’s business – and certain things he did, and anything involving Bruce tended to fall under the umbrella of things Roy had to tell him.

“Oh, God, what?” Jason asked, immediately on edge.

“First of all, you’ve done nothing wrong, and nobody’s hurt,” Roy began, because he knew that was where Jason’s mind would immediately go. “Your dad visited.”

Jason blinked. He looked torn between anger, confusion, and a third, secret feeling that always emerged when Jason was confronted with the reality of Bruce. “Okay, so fair of you not to want to fuck me right now,” he said. “What a turn-off. Why was he here?”

“He offered me a position,” Roy explained.

“What, like a job? Working for him?” Anger was winning out on Jason’s face. “Is he trying to get you to move to Gotham? I didn’t ask him to do that. He promised to stop interfering in our relationship. I should’ve known—”

“Not a job, Jay,” Roy interrupted before Jason could go off on one. “A position. On his new team.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “A position in the Justice League?”

“Yes.”

Even more emotions flitted across Jason’s features in rapid succession, too quick to read. He looked overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to do with this information. “What did you say?”

“I turned him down,” Roy assured him.

“Why?”

Roy would have thought Jason would know why. “It’s not the right choice for me right now,” he said.

“You turned him down because of me.” Jason’s expression was hardening again. He wasn’t angry, not exactly. Roy couldn’t tell how he was feeling. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jason didn’t know how he was feeling either.

“I have a lot going on right now,” Roy maintained. “I can’t take on another responsibility.”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit,” Jason snapped. “You said no because you thought I’d object to being on a team with my dad.”

Roy maintained his calm, an important thing to do when Jason was on the verge of losing his temper. Jason was getting better at reigning himself in, but engaging him was still a bad idea more often than not. “I didn’t know if you’d object, but I knew it would put strain on our relationship. I don’t want that. You’re too important to me.”

Jason shook his head. “You can’t do this, Roy. This is a good opportunity for you. This is a great opportunity for you. You love being on a team.”

“I’ve been working with you,” Roy pointed out.

“Yeah, on-and-off. We can still do that. And when you’re unavailable, I have plenty of people in Gotham to work with.” Jason captured Roy’s gaze, his green eyes piercing straight to Roy’s soul. Roy was weak for those eyes. “Roy, you should say yes.”

“It’s not a good idea, Jay,” Roy insisted.

“No, what’s not a good idea is turning down a major opportunity because of me,” Jason argued. “I don’t want you to end up resenting me.”

“I won’t,” Roy promised. “I could never resent you.”

“You don’t know that,” Jason insisted. He was no longer angry; he’d simmered down. But he wasn’t backing down, either. “And I don’t want to live with the guilt of… of causing you to turn down an opportunity you’ve been waiting for all your life.”

“You’re the only thing I’ve been waiting for all my life,” Roy tried to say.

“No pretty words, Roy. This isn’t about us. We will be fine. I can handle you occasionally working with my dad. I occasionally work with my dad. And it’s not ‘Batman’s Justice League,’” Jason pointed out. “He’s not the only person on the team. You’ll work with lots of people.”

Roy’s resolve wavered. Jason had made multiple solid arguments. (He was getting way too good at that.) “Even if I was going to change my mind, I’d need time to think about it.”

“Baby,” Jason said, taking Roy’s chin in his hand, forcing eye contact again. Roy cursed the day Jason had discovered this particular weakness of his. “If you weren’t in a relationship with me, would you say yes? Be honest.”

Be honest. There was no getting out of this one. Roy sighed and admitted, “Yes.”

“There’s your answer,” Jason said with finality.

Roy had one remaining point of concern. “If it starts to affect our relationship, I’m quitting the team.”

Jason nodded. “Deal.”

IV: COUNTDOWN FROM FINAL CRISIS.

Jason.

The first place he went after it was all over was, naturally, Roy’s house.

He hadn’t let himself feel anything yet. Since this had all started, he’d been running on the same shit that had always fueled him: spite, stubbornness. This world had taken him once, and neither it nor any other world was taking him again.

Now, though? Now that he’d finally extricated himself from the multiversal nonsense he was going to henceforth leave in other heroes’ more capable hands, he was running on nothing but fucking fumes.

“Above my fucking pay grade,” he muttered to himself, because as long as he was thinking about that, he wasn’t thinking about the other thing.

He sped up as he approached Roy’s house, disregarding speed limits in his eagerness to get somewhere safe, fucking finally. He screeched to a halt in front of Roy’s driveway, dismounted his bike, and practically sprinted for the door, leaning against it for support as his shaking hands struggled with his keys. By the time he found the right one and fit it into the lock, he heard the door unlock from the other side, and then it opened. Jason stumbled and nearly fell to the floor before Roy caught him and hefted him back up.

“Oh my God, you’re back. You’re alive,” Roy said, relief emanating from him in waves. His hands were on Jason’s arms and his careful gaze inspected every inch of him, looking for injuries. It was strange, because normally Roy had a mental catalogue of every one of Jason’s injuries, having felt them himself, but their bond had severed temporarily while Jason was in the Multiverse.

“Not that easy to kill me off,” Jason replied with his best attempt at a smirk. “Again.”

“Thank God,” Roy said. “What the hell happened? Why couldn’t I feel you? I thought you were dead!”

“It’s such a long story,” Jason told him, shaking his head. “Can I just… Can I just sit down first? I promise I’m not hurt.” He squinted his eyes shut and massaged his forehead with one hand. “I feel like shit, though.”

“Yeah, I can feel that.” Roy shut the door and locked it, leading Jason farther into the house. “Come sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”

Jason sat on Roy’s leather couch and waited while Roy made tea. All the energy was sapped out of him now that he was alone with Roy. He could show weakness in front of Roy.

He looked around the otherwise empty house and asked, “Where’s Lian?”

“I put her to bed early.” Roy got the kettle on the stove and waited. Jason could feel his uneasiness a room away, so he wasn’t surprised when Roy asked, “Have you, um… Have you heard?”

Jason stared off into the distance, ostensibly at the black screen of Roy’s TV, at his own dark reflection staring back at him. He looked about as bad as he felt, like he hadn’t slept in a week, like a stiff breeze would knock him over. He remembered Tim looking like this after Kon’s death. He remembered Dick looking like this after Blüdhaven was destroyed. He wondered if—

Stop. Not yet, he tried to tell himself, because maybe if he kept pushing it off, it would hurt less. But his powers of emotional repression were already waning. That was the scary thing about safety, to Jason: It made him let his guard down. He couldn’t help but feel things around Roy, good and bad. He wondered if that was why Bruce—

No.

“Jay? Did you hear me?”

Roy’s voice snapped Jason back to reality. He broke eye contact with his reflection, looking down at the floor instead. “Yeah,” he answered. His voice broke on the word, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, I heard.”

Roy didn’t say anything else until he had a cup of hot tea in front of Jason. Jason recognized the smell; it was an herbal blend Jason had introduced Roy to a long time ago. The first time they’d met, actually. Before Jason had died.

Nope, no thoughts of death either.

But now Roy was sitting down on the couch next to him, and as that feeling of safety crept in, so did another, older, even more familiar feeling. Jason’s vision tunneled. He looked up at his reflection again, and this time the face staring back at him was one he hardly recognized.

“Do you want to be touched?” he heard Roy ask, distantly. His eyes flicked to Roy’s reflection. His face looked both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Part of Jason’s brain was lighting up, recognizing the man Jason was in love with. Another part had gone somewhere else, somewhere Roy couldn’t follow.

Jason nodded. Roy put a tentative hand on Jason’s knee. Jason neither leaned into nor away from the touch. He hardly felt it. His hands and feet were tingling, and then his arms and legs, and then every part of him, fuzzy like TV static. The only physical sensations he was still aware of were a sickness in his stomach and the headache pounding at his skull from the inside. It was a bad enough headache that Roy could probably feel it too, though he showed no signs of it. Roy was pretty good at toughing out pain.

It had been so long since Jason had properly dissociated. He’d been working on developing “healthier coping mechanisms” (Roy’s words). Roy was running a one-man campaign to get Jason to go to therapy. Jason didn’t know why he was so resistant to the idea.

(Yes he did.)

Jason was almost impressed by how easily he slipped out of reality. Just like old times. First the world around him – Roy’s living room – was swimming. Everything was dark. It felt like Jason was underwater. He remembered coming to in the Lazarus Pit, surrounded by radioactive green water, confused, not knowing where he was or why he was there, thinking he was probably drowning, while every fiber of his being buzzed with a heady rush of adrenaline unlike anything he’d ever felt before. And then Talia had pulled him out.

Roy was trying to pull him out.

“Hey.” Roy’s voice was even more distant, wobbly, not-real. “Hey, look at me.”

Jason didn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t move. He was safe with Roy, but he wasn’t safe in his own mind, and so he’d left it behind. Just for a moment. Just long enough to catch his breath. So much had happened. He needed a break. He deserved a break. Then he’d come back.

Roy, however, was having none of this. “Look at me, baby, please.”

He was going to ruin it. He was going to make Jason face his feelings. Jason didn’t want to face his feelings. Jason wanted to stay here, where his feelings couldn’t get to him.

“Please, Jay. Come back to me. I need you here.”

Jason blinked several times. His eyes were wet. He reached up and touched his face. It was dry. He looked down at the coffee table at his cup of tea, picked it up mechanically, and held it in both hands, letting the warmth seep into his skin. He became aware of the rise and fall of his own chest again.

Roy needed him here.

Jason let the tears fall. He’d cried more times since meeting Roy than most of the rest of his life. Another side effect of safety. Crying had been trained out of him early; “I’ll give you something to cry about.” He’d already been a master of that particular brand of emotional repression by the time he got to Bruce—

Oh, fuck, there it was.

Jason set the cup of tea back down and hunched forward, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, sobbing. He felt Roy’s hand on his knee give a squeeze, then lift so Roy could get his arm around Jason, drawing him near.

“I’m here,” Roy told him, which Jason knew. “You’re safe.” Jason knew that too. He didn’t mind the reminder, though.

Now that he’d come back to it, Jason’s brain flipped through memories like a photo album. Not the usual ones, though; not the ones that woke him up in the middle of the night, shaking. Memories of Bruce.

Bruce’s barely-there smile. The line of concentration between Bruce’s eyebrows. Bruce’s cleanly pressed, perfectly tailored suits. Bruce’s expensive watches; Jason had stolen one once. Bruce’s home office, where Jason could often find him, working late. Bruce’s voice, both versions of it, the one that called him “Jay” and the one that called him “Robin.” Bruce’s long lectures about safety. Bruce’s face, revealed from underneath the cowl at the end of a long night, hair matted down, a sheen of sweat on his skin, potentially a hint of the metallic scent of blood in the air.

Bruce had always seemed so… untouchable. Invincible. Immortal, even. It was impossible for Jason to believe that he was just… gone.

“It’s fake,” he managed to say. His eyes were open again. Had he closed them? He couldn’t remember. He must have.

“What is?” Roy asked, concerned.

“It’s not real,” Jason tried to explain, growing more sure of himself with every word. “He’s faking it. It’s a trick. It’s gotta be. Because nothing can… He just doesn’t…”

“Jay, you’re breathing really fast,” Roy interrupted, and Jason realized that he was, in fact, breathing very fast and shallow, nearly running out of air. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Jason shook his head. “You’re not listening,” he insisted, meeting Roy’s gaze. “It’s not real. And even if it was… Even if it was, which it’s not, he’ll come back. I did. Clark did, your dad did, Hal, Barry, Donna, Steph—”

Roy cut him off again. “I’m listening to you, Jay. I hear you. But I need you to take a deep breath for me.” That calm voice usually worked on Jason, usually calmed him down too, but today, it struck the wrong chord in him.

“You don’t believe me. You think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You wouldn’t fucking believe…” Despite himself, Jason had to take a breath. He was getting dizzy. “You wouldn’t fucking believe the shit I’ve seen.”

“We can talk about it, Jay. I want to hear about it. But first I need you to—”

“Get off of me!” Jason threw up his hands and stood, pacing across the living room, making it to the kitchen island before collapsing against it, holding himself up, breathing fast again. See? This was why Roy should have let him escape reality for a while.

Roy came after him, slowly, leaving plenty of space between them. “Jay, please. Let me help you. I just want to help you. I’m your partner.”

Jason shook his head. He closed his eyes against the barrage of feelings, so many feelings. Tears were falling again.

He barely registered Roy walking around him to one of the kitchen cabinets, taking out an orange pill bottle, and shaking it in front of Jason to get his attention. Jason looked up.

“You need to take one of these,” Roy said. He turned the label toward Jason: Jason’s fake name and the name of the drug. Roy hadn’t managed to get Jason to go to therapy, but Jason had seen a psychiatrist for his debilitating panic attacks and flashbacks. She’d tried to prescribe him Xanax, which he’d vehemently refused. Then she’d wanted to prescribe him something that he had to take every day, multiple times a day, and he’d refused that too, because that sounded like way too much hassle.

“This won’t be as effective, but it’s non-habit-forming, and you only have to take it as-needed,” she’d said of his current treatment. It was the same stuff Roy used sometimes to sleep at night, so Jason trusted it.

Jason looked at the bottle, then at Roy. Roy looked worried. Of course he did.

“Please,” Roy added.

Jason nodded. Roy shook a pill out of the bottle and handed it to Jason, who swallowed it dry. It wouldn’t kick in right away, but Roy’s concern for him had.

This was Jason’s least favorite part. The panic attacks and flashbacks, those were terrible, they felt awful, they made him feel like he wanted to die, or like he was dying. But the aftermath was worse, especially when he ended up lashing out at someone who didn’t deserve it. Usually Roy.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“I forgive you,” Roy said. He always said this, instead of “it’s okay,” because Jason couldn’t argue with it.

“I don’t think it’s real,” Jason insisted.

“How do you mean?” Roy asked patiently.

“I don’t think he’s dead. I think he’s still alive.”

Roy hesitated. He looked like he didn’t know whether it was safe to disagree with Jason yet. He must have decided not to. “You’re still processing it,” he said instead, neutrally.

“He can’t be dead. He can’t be gone. If he is, he’ll be back.” Jason felt sure of this. It just didn’t make sense for Bruce to be dead. He’d survived so much. He had to have survived this. This had to be one of his tricks.

Roy didn’t say anything to this. So Jason continued, “He can’t be gone, because… because…” His breathing was speeding up again. He took a deep breath. “He can’t be gone, because if he’s gone, then it’s over.”

Jason didn’t think he needed to explain this part. He was pretty sure Roy knew. Jason hadn’t prioritized his relationship with Bruce since coming back from the dead; in fact, he’d done the opposite. He’d avoided Bruce. He’d pushed him away. He’d burned nearly every bridge between them, and he hadn’t been ready to begin the process of mending them yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would be ready, but if Bruce was dead, he wouldn’t have a choice. Their relationship would forever remain how Jason had left it: broken.

“I know how you feel,” Roy said, as Jason had expected he would. He put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Solid. Real. “Let’s go upstairs and talk about it.”

V: A HEAVY BURDEN.

Roy.

Since the events of Jason’s return, Roy had made a point not to interfere in Gotham. He trusted Jason to take care of himself out there, and the rest of the Bats as well. And now that Roy was a member of the Justice League, it was even easier to maintain this hands-off approach, because he had even less free time than he used to. But at some point, enough was enough.

Gotham was in chaos. Bruce’s death had thrown the entire city out of balance. Tim was trying to maintain some semblance of control, using Bruce’s resources. Dick had called all of their allies together to form a united front. And Jason had his work cut out for him fighting Gotham’s gangs.

“Can I just be a crime boss again for a little while?” he’d asked Roy on one of the rare occasions they’d been able to meet. Jason could almost never get away from Gotham, so the only times they saw each other were when Roy could come to him, in between his day job, taking care of Lian, Justice League business, and his everyday vigilante work in New York. In short, it wasn’t often.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” Roy had said. “Do you want to be a crime boss again?”

“No, not particularly,” Jason had admitted. “Gangsters are so unreliable. But maybe if I united the gangs like I tried to do last time, I could keep things under control.”

Roy had been skeptical. “Uh-huh. How well did that work out for you the first time?”

“Pretty well, actually, until someone decided to seduce me away from the dark side.”

Ultimately, Jason had decided not to get involved in organized crime again. His morals wouldn’t let him touch the drug trade again. He hadn’t particularly wanted to do it the first time.

Even with all the Bats’ and their allies’ combined efforts, it seemed to Roy like they were barely holding the city back from the brink. Tim was of the opinion that someone (Dick) should take up the cowl. Dick was of the opinion that he would rather do literally anything else. And Roy was of the opinion that someone had to do something, not just to save the city but also, selfishly, to save his dying sex life.

Really, though, Roy understood both sides of the issue. On the one hand, Tim was right. Gotham clearly needed Batman, and Dick was the best candidate for the job. Tim was too young, Cass was too inexperienced, and Jason disagreed with the particular form of justice Batman had stood for. It had to be Dick, or it wouldn’t work.

On the other hand, when Ollie had died, while a part of Roy had felt the pull to carry on his father’s legacy, it had never felt like the right way forward, for himself or for the mantle of the Green Arrow. Connor had been a far better candidate, and it had nothing to do with DNA. Connor fit the role. Roy didn’t. Roy had resented that, once, but in hindsight, he was grateful for it. Let Connor walk that path. Roy preferred where his path had taken him.

Because of his experiences, Roy had no plans to pressure Dick one way or another, either toward taking over as Batman or away from it. That was Dick’s choice to make, and no one else’s. But Roy did want to talk to Dick about it. Because he knew Dick, and he could imagine how Dick was feeling about all this, and he was pretty sure he could help guide Dick in the direction that was right for him.

So he came to Gotham, not to visit Jason this time, but to visit Dick. He cornered him on a rooftop, and Dick reluctantly heard him out.

“What do you want?” he demanded, hands on his hips. He was immediately confrontational. He knew why Roy was here, because he knew Roy about as well as Roy knew him.

Roy held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m just here to check on you,” he assured Dick. “As a friend.”

“Robin didn’t send you?” Dick asked skeptically.

“I think Robin’s got his hands full.”

“Red Hood?”

“He’s got his hands full too. Believe me. We’ve seen… very little of each other lately. He’s running himself ragged trying to contain all the gang violence.” Roy gestured to Dick. “I know you all are.”

Dick sighed and let his guard down. Some of it, anyway. “We’re not enough,” he admitted. “Not without him.” No need to clarify who “he” was.

“Debatable,” Roy countered.

Dick held out his arms. “The current state of Gotham isn’t proof enough for you?”

“It’s a transition period.”

“We’ve got all hands on deck and we still can’t get this city under control.”

Roy scoffed. “Please. This city was never ‘under control.’” He knew Dick couldn’t argue with him there. “Gotham’s criminals are feeling bold right now. You’ll beat them back, put them all in their places, and things will go back to normal. As normal as they can be.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Dick said. He stared off into the distance, broodily. Roy wasn’t going to say it, but it was a very Bruce thing to do. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t?” Roy questioned.

“I know what I should do.” There was a thread of resentment in Dick’s tone. More than a thread, actually. “But I’m sick and tired of doing what I should do. Where the hell has that ever gotten me? I got fired from being Robin. My city was destroyed. I’ve lost friends. And now this.”

“Well sure, it sounds depressing if you only focus on the bad parts,” Roy argued. “You’ve come pretty damn far, though, from my perspective. I mean, look at you. Look how far you’ve come. You are not the guy I met… however many years ago. Don’t do the math; I don’t want to know.”

That, at least, earned Roy a chuckle. Roy pressed on, “I won’t lie to you, Dick. Things are grim. You’ve lost everything. You lost Blüdhaven. You lost your father. But you’ve been there before, haven’t you? Last time you lost everything, Batman was there for you. He’s not here anymore. You got back up on your own this time.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve gotten back up,” Dick disagreed.

“You’re still standing, aren’t you?” Roy pointed out. “You’re still fighting. You still believe in something. You must. Otherwise you’d have given up already. So what is it you believe in? What are you fighting for?”

Dick shook his head, at a loss for words. It took him a moment to come up with an answer. “When I started,” he said, “I was trying to live up to his legacy. Then I was trying to establish a legacy of my own.”

“Which you absolutely did,” Roy interrupted to say. “As a matter of fact, you established two. Robin has lived on past you. We’re on Robin number four. How many other mantles have been passed on that many times? And you’ve more than established yourself as Nightwing. You’re the example of a former sidekick going his own way. You’re an inspiration to me and so many others. If establishing a legacy was what you’ve been trying to do, then congratulations. You did it. You can rest on your laurels, if that’s all you want to do. Unless there’s something else you’re fighting for.”

“It’s not all,” Dick continued, a bit reluctantly. He’d figured out where this was going, but he went along with it anyway. “I don’t care about living up to his legacy anymore. But I do still want to be the type of hero that he was. I want to be someone who would have been there for the circus kid who lost both of his parents. And all the other kids who need someone like that to look up to.”

Roy smiled. “That’s the Nightwing I know. I missed him.”

“Shut up,” Dick said, but Roy could tell he was flattered.

“Listen, Wing, I’m not gonna tell you what to do,” Roy went on. “I’d be a major hypocrite if I did. I’m lucky my brother stepped up to the plate when our dad was dead. I don’t think I could have pulled it off. And I don’t blame you for not wanting to try.”

“I’m not him,” Dick maintained. “I can’t be him. I don’t want to be.”

“And I know exactly how that feels. You’re preaching to the choir.”

Dick huffed. “I wish one of my brothers was that eager to step up to the plate.”

Roy raised his eyebrows. “You wish Red Hood would become the next Batman?”

Dick thought about it for only a moment before saying, “No. Not particularly.”

“Uh-huh. So Robin, then? The child vigilante?”

“I guess not.”

“Batgirl, maybe?”

“Batgirl isn’t ready.”

“And Spoiler just got back.”

Roy’s point was clear. If anyone was going to be Batman, it had to be Dick. Instead of admitting this, though, Dick said, “Maybe Gotham doesn’t need Batman.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Roy agreed. “You don’t owe your dad shit. You don’t even owe Gotham shit, if you really want to say ‘fuck it’ to it all. You’re not even from here. But the city needs you right now. And I’ve never known Nightwing to turn his back on a city in need.”

“I don’t feel like I’m making that much of a difference,” Dick admitted.

“You are,” Roy told him. “I’ve been paying attention. Hood tells me things. Robin tells me things. They wouldn’t be able to hold this place together without you. They wouldn’t be able to hold themselves together without you. And I know that’s an unfair burden to put on you. I wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to set it down, like I did. You can take that road. Keep doing your own thing. Keep making a difference in your own way. You don’t have to be all things to all people. You can’t.”

Dick sighed again. He sensed Roy was nearing his conclusion. And so he prompted, “What’s the other road I could take?” Even though they both already knew where that road led.

Roy knew Dick probably expected him to say something along the lines of “become Batman,” couched in some flowery and inspirational language, like everything he’d said so far. (Which was very unlike Roy, by the way. He’d had too much exposure to Justice League members, he decided. They were all very keen to give motivational speeches.)

But Roy didn’t have anything else flowery to say. He didn’t have another motivational speech in him. He just had one question.

“WWWD?”

Dick tilted his head, not understanding what that meant.

So Roy clarified, “What Would Wally Do?”

A lengthy pause hung heavy in the air between them. Dick scowled at Roy. Roy smirked right back at him.

“I hate you,” Dick said.

Roy’s smirk widened. “I gave you two options, Wing,” he said, holding out his hands.

“Fucking asshole.”

“The choice is yours.”

“Manipulative son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t say which one was right. You could be like me. It’s a perfectly legitimate road to take.”

“Fuck you.”

Roy laughed. “You know I’m right.”

VI: THE ROBIN CURSE.

Jason.

“There he is. The next victim of the Robin curse.” Jason sauntered across a rooftop, coming to stand near the edge of it next to Tim, who was staring broodily toward the horizon, as Bats often did. Tim was wearing his new suit: all red and black, with a cowl and a new insignia; he looked like a half-and-half cross between Robin and Batman. The look worked for him. The new name didn’t. “Red Robin.” Of all the uncreative, uninspired…

Jason cut off that line of thinking. He wasn’t here to brainstorm new aliases for Tim. He was here to attempt to be helpful, for once in his life. Because while it did make him feel slightly vindicated that Tim had been replaced the same way Jason had once been, he knew he was one of only two people in the world who understood what Tim was going through, and the other person was the one who’d made the decision to replace him. Which meant it was all up to Jason. He wasn’t about to let Tim become a gun-toting anti-hero about it. That was Jason’s shtick.

Also – and if anyone but Roy tried to say this about him, Jason would kill them where they stood – Jason had reluctantly grown to… care about Tim. As a person. Meaning he didn’t actively wish harm upon the kid. Definitely nothing more than that. He didn’t like him.

Even though Tim had a dry sense of humor that wasn’t dissimilar to Jason’s and actually appreciated Jason’s gallows humor, which made everyone else uncomfortable. Even though Tim did a killer impression of Dick going all “eldest sibling” on them and of Damian being a little brat, and he used to do a pretty good one of Bruce giving one of his lectures, though Tim didn’t break that one out anymore. Even though Tim was the only other openly queer member of the family (Jason was still convinced Dick was one of them, but he couldn’t tell Dick that, because it would only scare him deeper into the closet). Even though Tim often congratulated Jason on landing the hottie that was Roy, as he (and everyone else) fucking should.

Anyway, despite all that, Jason definitely didn’t like Tim, and it was ridiculous to suggest that he did, even though Roy insisted on doing exactly that. Frequently.

Roy was biased. He liked Tim. Jason didn’t.

Tim turned and looked at Jason. Jason couldn’t fully make out his expression behind the new cowl, but he could tell from Tim’s downturned mouth that he wasn’t amused by Jason’s turn of phrase.

“Is that what we’re calling this?” Tim remarked dryly.

“Listen,” Jason said, trying to sound reassuring and failing, not just because of the voice filter in his helmet but because reassuring people was not one of his strong suits, “It could be worse. You could be dead.”

“Sometimes I wish I was,” Tim quipped.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “You’d better not mean that.” Gallows humor aside, because again, Jason didn’t wish harm on the kid.

“I don’t,” Tim assured him. “Currently.”

Jason made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Tim, at least until he adjusted to his new role. Or until Kon came back. That would give Tim something to live for.

“This is not gonna help your relationship with the new kid,” Jason observed, referring to Damian. The new Robin. It made Jason grimace just to think about it. He’d finally gotten to a place where he felt okay about Tim being Robin, and now the role had changed hands again and he was back to square one.

Jason didn’t know why he was still weirdly attached to the role of Robin, and he refused to do the self-reflection necessary to figure it out. He had higher priorities. Way more traumatic trauma to work through. He could get to the Robin shit later.

“Nope,” Tim confirmed.

Jason nodded. He looked out at the horizon too. It was almost dawn. “I know how you feel.”

Tim’s frown deepened. “Why do I feel like you’re relishing in my pain and suffering?”

“I’m commiserating,” Jason insisted. “It’s a totally different thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Tim said skeptically.

Jason paused. “I am relishing it a little.” It was important to be honest.

“There it is,” Tim remarked.

“But I also empathize.”

“I didn’t realize you were capable of empathy.”

There was that dry sense of humor Jason had missed. (What? Not missed. He hadn’t missed it. He felt an entirely different way about it that wasn’t missing it.) “I am,” Jason told him. “I’m just an asshole. But I get it. You don’t want to commiserate. That’s fine. That’s not the only reason I dropped by.”

“Why else did you drop by?” Tim asked, sounding like he dreaded the answer.

“Two other reasons,” Jason said. “First: Did you design the new suit yourself?”

“Why?” Tim demanded, immediately suspicious. That was fair.

“Just curious,” Jason told him honestly.

“I did, yeah,” Tim admitted. “I picked the colors for Superboy. Red and black were his colors, before he died.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jason said. Kon’s stupid t-shirt and jeans. What a lame uniform. He’d looked way better before, with his actual costume. “Anyway, it’s a decent design.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason confirmed. “Did you design your Robin costume too?” Jason had just worn the same costume as Dick, but in his size, because he’d been so excited to be Robin that he couldn’t imagine making any changes. But Tim had made significant changes to the costume. For the better, in Jason’s opinion. The pixie shorts were… a choice.

“I did,” Tim answered.

“You’re not half-bad at costume design,” Jason said. “Way better than Nightwing – sorry, Batman – ever was.” It was still weird calling Dick “Batman.” It probably always would be. Dick was Nightwing. That was all Jason had ever known him as. Well, he’d known of him as Robin. But when they’d officially met, Dick had been Nightwing, and he’d been Nightwing this whole time, and Jason didn’t know how he felt about Dick being Batman now. He felt… a lot of ways about it. “Feel free to tell him I said that.”

“The Nightwing costume wasn’t so bad,” Tim offered.

“Some versions of it,” Jason argued. “Not all of them. I should have redesigned the Robin costume like you did. I didn’t know it was an option.” Jason had some ideas, now that it was far too late to implement them.

“The new ‘Robin’ redesigned it too,” Tim said bitterly.

“Your version was better,” Jason said, and he meant it.

For the first time during their conversation, Tim’s frown faltered. “Hey, I’ll take the compliment. But can we get to the real reason you’re here? Because I know this isn’t about my costume or the ‘Robin curse.’”

Jason held up his hands. “Okay, I get it, stop wasting your time. You’re not nearly as fun as you used to be, you know that? Superboy needs to come back already.” That was the last time Tim had been… well, happy. At least as far as Jason could tell.

“I was going to try to bring him back, but you wouldn’t let me,” Tim pointed out.

“That was a terrible idea and you know it,” Jason retorted. “It wouldn’t have brought him back. At best, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. At worst, you would have created some unholy abomination that, I don’t know… feasts on human flesh.”

“You read too many books.”

“You don’t read enough.” Jason was letting himself get off track again. Not that he minded, but he sensed he was dancing on Tim’s last nerve, and while Jason typically relished in doing just that, he really did have a point to all this that he needed to get to. “So ‘Batman’ tells me you don’t think the Big Guy is dead.”

The real Batman, Jason meant, not that he would ever say it to Dick’s face. Not unless Dick really pissed him off. Honestly, though, Dick would probably agree with him. He’d seemed reluctant to take up the mantle. Jason still didn’t know why he had.

Tim’s guard immediately went back up. Jason hadn’t even noticed that he’d (marginally) lowered it. “Heard that from Batman, did you?”

“That’s what I said.”

“He doesn’t believe me.”

“Yeah, he made that clear.”

A lengthy pause stretched between them. Tim wasn’t showing his cards. Jason, apparently, had to. He hated that.

“I believe you,” Jason said.

Tim turned to face him, so fast he could have given himself whiplash. “What?”

“I don’t think he’s dead,” Jason clarified. “Haven’t since day one.”

“Why not?”

“It’s him.” Like that explained everything. Because it did.

Tim shook his head in disbelief. “That’s it?”

“Yes. I don’t believe for a second that that bitch is dead. And I won’t stand for this stolen death valor. Death used to mean something.”

Jason wasn’t going to mention his other complicated feelings about Bruce being dead. Or “dead.” Those were between him and Roy, who understood and didn’t judge him for it. Tim probably wouldn’t judge him either, but Tim’s relationship with Bruce was very different from Jason’s. He wouldn’t understand. Not the way Roy did.

“You’ve thought this all along?” Tim said, surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t planning to do anything about it. I didn’t think I could do anything about it. But if you think he’s alive, you must have a theory. Right?”

Tim only hesitated for a moment. “I do.”

“And your theories aren’t usually wrong.” Jason could admit that much. Of the two of them, Tim was the better detective. Jason was fine with that. He hadn’t had as much detective training as Tim. He did have more assassin training, though. Tim could solve a case, but Jason could kill a man in hundreds of different ways (though he preferred a clean headshot, no reason to prolong anyone’s suffering unless they really deserved it).

“You really do believe me,” Tim remarked, tilting his head to the side.

“You think I’d joke about this?” Jason asked. He knew the answer.

“Yeah. I do.”

That was fair. “So you have a theory,” Jason reiterated, moving the conversation along. “Do you have a plan?”

“I have… concepts of a plan.”

It was better than nothing. “Does anyone else believe you?”

“You’re the first.”

Damn. Well, that wasn’t the end of the world. At most, it was a minor obstacle. “We won’t get any help from any heroes outside Gotham if we don’t have at least Batman on our side,” Jason said.

“What if you brought in Arsenal?” Tim asked. “He’s in the Justice League. He would be a huge help.”

“No,” Jason said firmly. “We’re keeping Arsenal out of this.” Roy didn’t think Jason’s insistence that Bruce was still alive was “healthy.” If he found out about this, he would try to convince Jason – and probably also Tim – to give it up.

Jason didn’t want to give it up. He’d finally found someone who agreed with him. He’d finally found a sliver of hope that Bruce could still be alive. He wasn’t about to let it go.

This was exactly what Roy had done, right? He’d been convinced that Jason was still alive, despite almost everyone in his life telling him that he couldn’t possibly be, and he’d been right. And then he’d found Jason and the rest was history. If it had worked for Roy, maybe it would work for Jason and Tim. It was worth a shot.

Jason steadfastly ignored the questions that loomed in the back of his mind like shadows. What are you going to do if Bruce is alive? What are you going to do if he comes back? He didn’t have the answers to those questions. He supposed he would just have to find out.

“You’re going to keep this a secret from Arsenal?” Tim said. He looked… concerned. Why the fuck did he care what Jason kept a secret from his boyfriend?

Oh, yeah, right, Tim liked Roy. “Just until we have a lead,” Jason assured him, and he meant it. He didn’t like keeping secrets from Roy either. But in this case, it was necessary. “As soon as we do, we’ll bring it to him. Then maybe he’ll help us. But he’s not going to help us until we have evidence to back up our claim.”

“Okay,” Tim agreed. “I can work with that.”

“Do you think we’d get any help from your Teen Titans buddies?” Jason asked.

“Probably not, no. They’ve all got their own shit going on.” Tim sighed. “If Superboy was here…”

“Yes, I know, Superboy would go to the ends of the earth for you or whatever and that’s so heterosexual of him. The point is, we don’t have any help from the Justice League or the Teen Titans. We don’t have help from Batman and Robin. It’s just you and me.”

“You and me against the world,” Tim said. Jason could tell he was trying to sound sarcastic, but he wasn’t wrong.

“It’ll be fine,” Jason continued. “We can call on some of my allies.”

Tim frowned again. “Which ‘allies’ are we talking about?”

Jason grinned. “How pissed off do you think the new Robin will be if he finds out we’re working with his family?”

VII: TWO YEARS LATER.

Roy.

Roy and Jason had had a hard time deciding when, exactly, their anniversary was. They had too many options to choose from. They could celebrate on the anniversary of their first kiss, the first time Roy had had Jason over for dinner and Lian had officially met him. They could celebrate on the anniversary of the day they’d told Lian about their relationship.

They settled somewhere in the middle, the day they’d reunited after their successful but emotionally fraught attempt to kill the Joker. They’d both apologized for their past mistakes and forgiven each other. They’d both made promises to do better and be better going forward. And for the most part, they had.

This particular date had the added bonus of being especially easy to remember, because it was also Jason’s birthday.

They’d officially been together for two years now. Jason was twenty-two. They were celebrating at his place. Lian was with Jade. They had the whole night to themselves.

As soon as Roy was through the door, letting himself in with the key Jason had given him, he was on Jason, arms around him, kissing his lights out. He dragged Jason to bed, and Jason went, laughing and kissing Roy back, smiling against Roy’s mouth.

They’d been able to do this a lot more since Dick had become Batman. The situation in Gotham was still rough, but less dire than it had been. Jason made it up to New York at least once a week. When Roy came down to Gotham, Jason could let him stay longer instead of having to kick him out after a few hours to leave for patrol.

Seeing Jason more frequently – and fucking him more frequently – hadn’t been Roy’s only motivation, or even his primary motivation, behind nudging Dick toward becoming Batman. But it had been one of his motivations. He would own up to that. And it had worked out brilliantly.

Now he was making up for lost time; he couldn’t keep his hands off Jason, and Jason preened under his attention. When it was just the two of them like this, Roy could worship him properly. He would do anything Jason wanted him to do, and the whole time he would tell Jason how gorgeous he was and how good he felt and how much he missed him when they were apart. He pushed Jason’s limits until Jason couldn’t take any more, the feedback loop of their soulmate bond fueling him, because when he made Jason feel good, he would feel it too.

“Happy birthday,” he said to Jason after, kissing the skin beneath his ear, inhaling the scent of him there. He didn’t know why Jason’s sweat smelled so delicious.

“Happy anniversary,” Jason replied, catching his breath.

“We don’t get to do this enough,” Roy decided, not for the first time.

“We’d do it every day if it was up to you,” Jason teased, as he always did. “Multiple times a day, probably.”

Roy kissed Jason on the lips, tongue darting out to get a taste of him. That was delicious too. “You don’t agree?”

“Oh, I do,” Jason said, looping his arms loosely around Roy’s neck, one of his hands burying itself in Roy’s hair to scratch his scalp, which he knew made Roy melt, which Roy did, flopping down on top of Jason, making Jason laugh again.

“Can you feel that too?” Roy asked.

“It’s not a strong enough sensation,” Jason told him.

“How hard do you have to dig your nails in before you start to feel it?”

With his free hand, Jason dug his nails into Roy’s bicep, hard. Roy shivered. “Let’s get some food in us,” he said. “Get our energy back so we can go again.”

“You’re really proving my point here,” Jason said fondly.

“Which point is this?” Roy had already forgotten.

“My point was that you’re insatiable.”

“I am that.”

They made it out of bed and into the kitchen, where they cooked and ate dinner together, catching up on everything that had happened in their lives since they’d last seen each other.

“Dick is doing a decent job,” Jason was saying, talking about the state of Gotham and Dick’s new role as Batman. “He’s getting the hang of things. And Damian’s gotten much more tolerable since working with him.”

“Dick’s a good influence,” Roy remarked.

“He’s way less fun than he used to be, though. Almost as bad as he was after Blüdhaven.”

Yeah, grief would do that to a person. “He’s got a lot on his shoulders,” Roy said. “I don’t envy him.”

“Neither do I,” Jason agreed. He took another bite, chewed, swallowed, and added, “Tim’s less fun than he used to be, too.”

Jason had been bringing Tim up a lot more in recent months. Mostly complaining about him, though beneath it all, Roy could tell Jason was becoming attached to Tim. He talked about him like an older brother complaining about his younger brother, simultaneously annoyed and protective.

Jason had gone from actively wanting to hurt Tim to being fully willing to murder anyone who dared lay a hand on him. It was endearing to witness.

“You’ve been working with him a lot lately, haven’t you?” Roy asked.

“I have to,” Jason said. “Dick and Damian have their whole dynamic duo thing going on. Thick as fucking thieves.”

Jason sounded bitter. A thought occurred to Roy, something he hadn’t considered before. “Are you jealous of Damian?”

“No,” Jason answered, a little too quickly. “Tim is. I’ve got no reason to be jealous.”

“You and Dick used to be closer,” Roy pointed out, “Before Damian started working with him. And you can’t see him as often as you used to because you won’t go to the Manor.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at Roy. He never appreciated being psychoanalyzed. “Anyway,” he said firmly. “My point is, everyone has been so uptight lately. Even Steph has gotten more serious.”

“Not everyone copes with death with humor like you do.” Humor and violence, but Roy left that second part out.

“They should.”

“Does it make you feel lonely?” Roy asked.

“It makes me miss you and Lian,” Jason said, which was the closest he would come to admitting he was lonely. “You and I need to be able to see each other more.”

“Do you want me to quit the Justice League?” Roy was still willing to do that if Jason needed him to. He liked being on a team, but he liked his relationship more.

“No. No, don’t do that. That’s not what’s preventing us from seeing more of each other. You don’t have League meetings or missions that often. It’s my shit that’s preventing us from seeing each other.”

“Yeah, shit needs to stop happening,” Roy mused.

“Fucking exactly,” Jason agreed. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s been two years. I want…”

Jason trailed off. Roy tilted his head, making an inquisitive expression. “What do you want, Jay?” Whatever Jason wanted, Roy would always try to give him.

Jason made eye contact. Those green eyes still took Roy’s breath away. “I want to live with you.”

Roy’s heart exploded into confetti. Metaphorically speaking. “You do?”

“Yes. I want to see you every day. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night.” Jason took a breath. He was letting everything out now, it seemed. “I know you wanted me to live independently for a while, but I have. Again, for two years. Can’t that be long enough? I promise I won’t feel like I’m missing out on some crucial life experience. Living alone is boring and lonely. I liked it for a while, I liked feeling like I could find stability on my own, I’m glad you made me do that, but now I hate it and I want to live with you.”

Roy didn’t know what to say. Other than, “I would love that. I would love to live with you. I know Lian would too.”

How much time had Roy spent idly daydreaming about what it would be like to live with Jason? Waking up in the morning and making coffee together, one of them getting Lian ready for the day while the other made breakfast, going off to work, coming home, making and eating dinner, helping Lian with her homework, watching a movie together on the couch, putting Lian to bed, fucking, patrolling together, coming home and showering together, maybe fucking again if they weren’t too tired and sore, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Roy wanted that. He wanted that so much.

“So what are we gonna do?” Jason asked, uncertain.

“We wait for things to die down,” Roy said decisively, already putting a plan together in his head. “Let Dick finish getting things mostly under control here in Gotham. And then we move in together. Do you want to live with me in New York?”

“I just don’t want to be too far from Gotham,” Jason said. “It’ll be hard to leave this place, but also…” He averted his gaze. “It’s not the same as it used to be.”

Roy took that to mean, “It’s not the same as it was before Bruce died.” But he didn’t call Jason out on it.

“So New York would be good,” Jason continued. “And then we figure things out from there.”

“Exactly. You and me, Jay.” Roy reached across the table to take Jason’s hand.

“You and me,” Jason repeated, giving Roy’s hand a squeeze.

They passed a moment like that before Roy stood, collecting their dirty dishes and bringing them to the sink. He made quick work of rinsing them and loading them in the dishwasher before returning to Jason and planting a soft, open-mouthed kiss on his lips. The kiss lasted long enough that Roy’s thoughts began to fade away, long enough that he felt wrapped in a comforting blanket of the way Jason tasted (like the food they’d just eaten) and the way Jason smelled (a little like sex still).

“At least I get to see you more often now that Gotham isn’t completely in crisis,” Roy said when he finally broke away. He pulled Jason to his feet, led him to the couch, grabbed a blanket and turned on the TV. They didn’t live together yet, but Roy could pretend, just for the night.

“Yeah, shout out to Dick for taking one for the team.”

“I always knew he could do it. He just needed a nudge in the right direction.” Roy smirked.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “A ‘nudge’? Baby, did you convince Dick to become Batman?”

“He was already thinking about it,” Roy explained. “Like I said, he needed a nudge. If I hadn’t been there to talk him through it, he probably would have waited until something terrible happened that forced his hand, and then he’d feel guilty about it and blame whatever happened on himself. You know how he is.”

“Apparently not as well as you do,” Jason remarked, sounding impressed.

They went silent while Roy selected something for them to watch. Then Jason spoke up again. “Did you convince Dick to become Batman because you thought it was the right thing to do, or because you weren’t getting laid enough?”

“Mostly the first part,” Roy said, “But also a little bit of the second part.”

Jason shook his head. “What does it say about me that I don’t even have a problem with how manipulative you are anymore? I actually find it hot.”

“I think it says we’re both a little fucked in the head,” Roy observed.

“We knew that already.”

Roy kissed Jason once more for good measure, then turned on Love Island.

“Oh my God, seriously?”

Roy grinned. “Don’t give me that. I saw how invested you were last episode. I’ve been saving the rest to watch with you.”

Jason made a face, but he didn’t disagree.

VIII: CRY FOR JUSTICE.

Jason.

So basically it was all Jason’s fault.

He was watching Lian while Roy attended a Justice League meeting. He made Lian dinner, helped her put together a puzzle, wore her out with “target practice” with the Nerf gun he’d bought her – he was determined to make an expert marksman out of her one way or another – and just as he was about to take her upstairs to bed, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Roy.

“Hey babe,” he said. “You caught us just before bedtime.”

“Can I talk to Lian?” Roy asked. He sounded a bit breathless. He sounded… worried. And that worried Jason, because if Roy was at a League meeting, and he was worried, then it meant something was happening, or about to happen, on a global scale that was worth worrying about. And Jason didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, keeping his voice carefully calm and level. Roy would, of course, see (or hear) right through this, but Lian wouldn’t, and that was what was important. He held the phone out to her. “Lian, it’s Daddy.”

Lian took the phone eagerly and held it to her ear. “Hi, Daddy!”

Jason couldn’t hear what Roy was saying. He could only hear Lian’s responses: “Yes. … I love you, Daddy! … Okay!” She held the phone back up for Jason. “Here you go, Jay!”

He took the phone back. “Everything good?” he asked Roy, knowing what the answer would be before he heard it.

“No,” Roy said, as predicted. Jason adjusted his earlier read of the situation. Roy didn’t just sound worried. He sounded scared.

Shit.

“Something big is happening, Jay. I don’t know what yet, but I might need you to watch Lian a little while longer than expected.”

Jason looked down at Lian, who looked expectantly back up at him. Don’t freak out, Jason told himself. At least, don’t freak out on the outside. “How much longer? Should I contact Jade?”

“That’s probably a good idea, yes.”

“Is this a ‘shelter in place’ situation or a ‘get out of the city’ situation?”

“I don’t know yet,” Roy admitted. “I need to get back in there. I just wanted to talk to you both first.”

“Can I at least get a sense of what’s going on?” Jason asked. “You’re not giving me much to work with here.”

“I told you, I don’t know yet. They’re meeting about it now.”

“Okay, well, keep me posted. I can protect Lian more effectively if I know what I might be facing. If I don’t hear from you in the next hour, I’m taking her somewhere safe.”

“The house is safe, Jay,” Roy insisted.

“You don’t know that,” Jason argued. “People know you live here. People can find you here. Not to mention, New York is a pretty big target, if there’s some world-ending business about to happen.”

“We don’t know that it’s world-ending—”

“If your team is having a big meeting about it, it’s probably in that realm.” Jason couldn’t believe Roy was fighting him on this. Usually Roy was the paranoid one. Then again, Jason had always been more of the type to pack his things and go at the first sign of trouble, whereas Roy was more likely to shelter in place and reinforce his existing position. Two different strategies, but if Jason was in charge of Lian, then he was making the decisions, unless Roy explicitly told him not to.

So Jason asked, “All I need to know is if you want me to follow your instructions specifically, no matter what, and not go anywhere, or if you’re willing to trust my judgment and let me do what I think is going to be safest for Lian.”

Roy hardly hesitated. “I trust your judgment,” he said. “Don’t wait for my permission. If you don’t hear from me, do what you think is best. If you do end up leaving, contact Jade to tell her where you’re going. Don’t tell anyone else. And stay with Lian. Other than Jade, there’s no one else I trust her with more than you.”

Any other time, Jason would have been flattered. Touched, even. But that wasn’t his highest priority now.

Jason could do this. He could handle an emergency. He thrived in an emergency. It was only in the aftermath of an emergency that he completely broke down. So it was fine.

“Now, I really have to go. Keep Lian safe. Nothing else is more important than that.”

“I will, Roy. I promise.”

“Activate the highest security settings for the house. Everything will be fine as long as you’re with Lian.” Jason didn’t know which one of them Roy was trying to reassure with this statement, but either way, he didn’t think it was working.

“I will be. I won’t let her leave my sight.”

“Good,” Roy said, sounding marginally less worried than he was before. “Thank you, Jay. Keep your phone on you. I’ll try to give you a full rundown of the situation as soon as possible. I love you.”

“I love you,” Jason echoed. “Stay safe. Please.”

Roy hung up.

Jason wasn’t going to wait for something to go wrong. He needed to be prepared for the worst. He packed himself a bag, then packed one for Lian. He messaged Jade from Roy’s computer: “JL trouble. Awaiting further details. In the event of an emergency, leaving the city with Lian. Meet at these coordinates. J” and a series of coordinates for Jason’s planned destination if they had to get the hell out of dodge.

The message had just gone through when Jason felt a surge of pain that nearly knocked him off his feet. His vision whited out and he doubled over, unable to think, barely able to breathe. He bit down on his tongue, hard, to keep from screaming; he didn’t want to scare Lian. She was sitting on the floor next to him, playing with her Barbies. She looked up.

“Jay?” she asked. Jason hardly registered it. His mind was torn in two directions, one-half of his brain thinking Roy’s hurt, Roy’s hurt, Roy’s hurt, the other half taking him back to the last time he felt pain this intense.

No. He couldn’t afford to do that now.

Focus on Roy, he told himself. How can you help Roy?

“Jay?” Lian repeated, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Wherever Roy was, Jason couldn’t go to him. He needed to stay with Lian. He had to keep her out of harm’s way. Shit was clearly going down. Roy was in pain – a lot of pain – but at least that meant he was alive. For now.

Keep Lian safe. Nothing else is more important than that.

Everything will be fine as long as you’re with Lian.

Jason gritted his teeth. He could get through this. He could fall apart after. “We’re going on a surprise trip,” he told Lian, trying to force the dread out of his voice, trying to sound upbeat. Instead, he sounded shrill and panicked. This, of course, did nothing to assuage Lian’s concern. “Mommy will meet us there,” he promised.

The mention of her mother temporarily put Lian’s worries out of her mind. “We’re going to see Mommy?”

“That’s right. We’re going to see your mommy. Come on, Lian, let’s go.”

Jason didn’t second-guess himself. I trust your judgment. Do what you think is best. He carried Lian upstairs, grabbed both of their bags and the keys to Roy’s car, strapped Lian into her carseat, and drove.

He headed north. There was tons of empty space in upstate New York. He and Lian would be safe there.

The pain Jason felt from Roy lasted as long as was typical for a soulmate bond, about ten to fifteen minutes, before fading away. Jason didn’t feel anything else from Roy after. He refused to think about what that might mean. He kept driving.

At some point, not long after they were out of the city, Lian fell asleep. Jason drove for another four hours after that, finally pulling into the parking lot of a nondescript motel in the middle of nowhere. He took Lian out of her car seat delicately, careful not to wake her. He went to the front desk and checked in, speaking in whispers, giving a fake name. Keys to their room in hand, he put Lian to bed, set up a few rudimentary security measures, and sat awake all night with a gun at his hip, downing energy drinks he’d picked up when they’d stopped for gas along the way.

Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Lian would have been perfectly safe at home. But Jason wasn’t going to be the one to take that risk.

He kept the news on, left on mute. It gave him only bits and pieces of information. Prometheus had infiltrated the Justice League Watchtower. No reports yet on casualties or deaths. Jason thought about the pain he’d felt from Roy earlier that evening.

The uncertainty – the not knowing – was torture. Was Roy unconscious? Had he been put under? Was he…?

Jason refused to consider the possibility that Roy was dead. Because if Roy was dead…

He could be dead, a treacherous voice in the back of his mind that always sounded a bit like the Joker provided. You’ve already ended up together. All bets are off. He could die at any time.

But that couldn’t be right. Jason and Roy still had so much ahead of them. They still lived in two different cities. Jason still wanted to move in with him. The idea of it terrified and exhilarated him all at once.

Hell, Jason wanted to marry Roy someday. He wanted the future Roy half-joked about, living together, getting married, becoming Lian’s stay-at-home stepdad and working on his novel while Roy worked his day job with teens in recovery. He’d spent so long dreaming about it. It couldn’t be dead now. Roy couldn’t be dead.

Roy couldn’t be dead.

Whoever had done this to him would be, though.

Jason had convinced Roy to join the Justice League. Bruce had offered, and Roy had said no, and then Jason had convinced him to change his mind, because he didn’t want to be responsible for Roy turning down such a huge opportunity. Whatever had happened to Roy on the Watchtower had happened because of Jason. Roy wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for him. And if whatever had happened to Roy was Jason’s fault, that meant Jason had to be the one to make it right.

Jade arrived at the motel around the time every news network on Earth was covering the destruction of Star City. The news hardly fazed Jason, not in his current state. It didn’t alter what he planned to do next. Roy was out there somewhere, injured or worse, and Jason knew who was responsible. Fuck the Justice League. He had his own definition of justice.

He let Jade in. The first place her gaze went to was Lian, still sleeping. Looking reassured, she turned to Jason and whispered, “Was Roy there?”

In Star City, she meant. “I don’t think so,” Jason informed her. “I think he was on the Watchtower. But he was hurt. Severely. And I haven’t felt anything from him since.”

Jade’s eyes narrowed. Her mind took the same path Jason’s had: “Who’s responsible?”

“Prometheus.”

She nodded. “One of us has to stay with Lian. So do you want to go after him, or should I?”

Jason knew he’d been right to like Jade. “I’ll do it.”

IX: SAFE AND SOUND.

Roy.

When Roy gained consciousness after his surgery, Jade and Lian were there.

“I told them I’m your wife,” Jade explained, holding Lian in her arms, who was looking at her father with open concern. Roy felt bad for letting her see him in his current state, but he selfishly needed to see her. He needed to see, with his own eyes, that she was safe. “I told them about your medical history, too. You won’t have to worry about them giving you anything you shouldn’t take.”

“Thank you,” Roy said.

“Daddy,” Lian piped up, unable to keep quiet any longer, “Daddy, did you get hurt?”

“I did,” Roy told her. He knew he should tell her the truth. The whole truth. She was going to find out eventually. It would be best to tell her now, so she would have plenty of time to adjust to it.

He opened his mouth to explain it to her, but the words caught painfully in his throat. He turned to Jade, and his pleading expression must have come across, because she held Lian closer to her and said, “Your daddy was in a fight with someone very bad and dangerous. And…”

Jade pursed her lips. She didn’t know how to explain it either. “Have you ever seen someone who doesn’t have one of their arms or legs, and maybe they have a fake one to replace it?”

“Um, yes,” Lian said.

“Well, now your daddy doesn’t have one of his arms. He’ll have to learn how to live without it, and we’ll have to help him.”

Lian clearly didn’t know how to react to this news. She looked confused and overwhelmed and upset. All she could say was, “No.” She shook her head, eyes welling up with tears, and tried to wriggle out of Jade’s arms, reaching for Roy. “Daddy…”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, sweetie,” Roy told her, and it felt like the biggest lie he’d ever told her. “I’ll be okay.” Physically, he would be. He would live. He was stable, the doctors had said. The surgery had gone off without a hitch.

Roy should have been grateful he still had his life. He could have very easily lost it, leaving Jade alone with Lian, leaving Jason without a soulmate. But an old, dark part of himself that he’d long managed to keep at bay was rearing its ugly head. Everything had changed for him now, and he didn’t know how to move forward. Do you even want to?

“Daddy will just have to take a break from his night work,” he continued. Yeah, sure. A “break.” You’ll totally be back up and running again. Not like your primary skill has just been stripped away from you. “That means I’ll get to spend more time with you.”

Lian sniffled. She looked even more conflicted now. She tucked herself back into Jade’s arms, still on the verge of tears. Roy felt like shit.

“Where’s Jay?” he asked. He desperately needed Jason to be here. Not just to know he was alright – if he wasn’t, he was sure Jade would have informed him already – but to know that they would be alright.

What if he leaves you? Roy should have recognized this instantly as a ridiculous thing to ask himself. Jason wasn’t going to leave him over this. They were soulmates. But Roy wasn’t being rational right now. He couldn’t stop imagining the way Jason would look at him when he saw him. It made him feel sick.

“He had work to do,” Jade said cryptically. “He got Lian out of New York. It didn’t turn out to be necessary, of course, but I think it was a reasonable precaution to take.”

“I agree,” Roy replied. After what had happened to Star City… That made Roy feel sick to think about, too. “And my family?”

“All alive,” Jade assured him.

Roy breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t think he could bear another loss after the one he’d just suffered. If this wasn’t already enough to break him, that would be.

Jade stuck around until Roy was discharged from the hospital and brought him home. She was driving his car, for some reason. He supposed she must have gotten it from Jason.

“I’ll stay until Jason gets here,” Jade promised. She said she didn’t know how long Jason’s “work” would take. She wouldn’t tell Roy what it was, which indicated that it was very likely something he wouldn’t approve of. It would hardly be the first time.

Despite Jade’s protests that it wasn’t good for his mental health, Roy stayed glued to the TV, watching the news unfold. The death toll in Star City was astronomical. Green Arrow was M.I.A. And then, a few days later, a new headline.

Prometheus and the Electrocutioner, the two men responsible for what had happened in Star City, were dead.

At first, Roy worried Ollie might have had something to do with it. He couldn’t imagine how Ollie was feeling now, seeing his home, the city he was tasked with protecting, utterly destroyed. But when the details of the killings became public, Roy began to doubt. The two villains were killed with bullets, not arrows. Ollie didn’t use guns.

Roy got a sinking feeling.

Jason was back the very next day.

Roy was in bed – Jade’s orders – when he arrived. Jason came into his room, sat on the edge of the bed, and took Roy in. Roy expected… He didn’t know what he expected. Shock. Horror. Disgust, even.

Jason just looked relieved to see him. Happy, even.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and Roy felt tears prick at his eyes.

“Yeah, of course, baby,” he told Jason, and Jason leaned down carefully and planted a slow, searching kiss on Roy’s lips.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” Jason whispered, leaning his forehead against Roy’s. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Roy reminded him.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t live without you. I can’t even imagine it. And I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.”

Roy kissed Jason again, and as he did, he felt something inside him that had been knocked out of place on the Watchtower shift back toward where it was supposed to be. He still didn’t know how he was going to move forward from this, but at least Jason would be with him. That was something.

And then he shoved Jason off of him, one-armed, and demanded, “What did you do?”

Jason didn’t even have the decency to look chagrined. Not the slightest trace of guilt made its way onto his features. “What do you mean?”

“Prometheus and the Electrocutioner are dead,” Roy began.

“I’ve heard.”

“They’re saying law enforcement and the Justice League don’t know who did it.”

Jason shrugged. “I’ve been hearing rumors that whoever did it probably wanted revenge for what they did to Star City,” he said, “But that would indicate that it was the Green Arrow. They were shot with bullets, not arrows, and Green Arrow notoriously doesn’t use guns, so it couldn’t have been him.”

Roy narrowed his eyes. Jason continued, “And both of the kills were very cleanly done, and the crime scenes wiped of any evidence. It’s the sort of behavior I’d expect less from a vigilante acting out of blind rage and more from a trained assassin.”

As Roy had suspected. “Those are a couple of high-level targets.”

“Yeah, I wonder if the assassin had assistance,” Jason said vaguely, tapping his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. “Access to resources, perhaps. Don’t assassins have a network of some kind? A… League of Assassins?”

“You did not go to the League of Assassins for this.”

“Me?” Jason pretended to be offended by the mere suggestion. “Who said anything about me? And anyway, if this anonymous assassin did go to the League, they probably just needed information on how to find Prometheus. Assassins typically prefer to work alone.”

They were going to have words about this. Later, though. Roy didn’t have the energy for it now.

“I can think of an assassin with a grudge against Prometheus,” Roy said with a pointed look at Jason, “But not the Electrocutioner.”

“It’s important to be thorough,” Jason argued, “Especially when you’re worried someone else might take over the job for you. Someone who is far less experienced at killing people and far more likely to have a guilty conscience. Someone with ties to the Justice League, which typically disapproves of murder, and enemies in the SCPD who would be all too eager to ensure his downfall.” Jason gave Roy a pointed look. It wasn’t necessary. Roy knew who he meant. “The important thing is, whoever did this definitely wasn’t the Green Arrow, and no one can claim otherwise. The same way no one can say for sure who killed the Joker.”

Now everything was starting to make sense. Jason was repaying the favor Ollie had done Roy after he’d helped Jason kill the Joker. Ollie had given Roy a place to flee to and stood up to Bruce for him, and now Jason had likewise ensured Ollie wouldn’t end up in prison for killing the men responsible for Star City’s destruction.

“Anyway,” Jason concluded, “Whoever was responsible should probably lay low for a while. And if anyone affiliated with them is, say, an active member of the Justice League, or a similar organization, that person might want to take a leave of absence to avoid a conflict of interest.” At this, Jason finally looked conciliatory. He didn’t feel bad for killing as revenge for what he’d done to Roy. He didn’t feel bad for killing on Ollie’s behalf. He only felt bad about jeopardizing Roy’s status with the Justice League.

“I’m not taking a leave of absence, Jay,” Roy informed him. He gestured to his missing arm. “I’m retiring.”

Jason looked genuinely surprised. Roy didn’t know why he would. “Why?”

“Jay, I’m nothing without my archery.” This had been the primary refrain of the insidious voice in Roy’s head: You’re nothing without your archery. You’re nothing.

Jason’s expression hardened. His voice was firm. “Bullshit,” he said. “You’re still a vigilante. You’re still a detective. You’re still a fighter. And even if you were none of those things, you’re still Roy fucking Harper, and even if you’re not the world’s best archer, you’re the world’s best soulmate and the world’s best dad. You’ve helped so many people in so many ways, not just by fighting crime and saving the world. You help teens struggling with addiction. You help your friends with their problems. You help me with my trauma. You help Lian every day to learn and grow and become the best person she can be. You’re not about to let one missing arm put you out of commission for good. I won’t let you. For fuck’s sake, if Barbara can get shot in the spine and come back stronger than ever, then you can come back from this.”

Roy looked up at Jason. He was right. Roy was listening to the self-destructive part of himself, the part of himself that had never done anything good for him. The part of himself that had ruined and almost ended his life. That voice inside him was loud right now, but that didn’t mean it knew what it was talking about.

Jason knew what he was talking about. He knew Roy. He could see Roy more clearly than Roy could see himself.

“Oh,” Jason added, thinking of one more thing, “You’re also a damn good mechanical engineer. You can make yourself a new arm. An even better one. But in the meantime,” Jason concluded, “We’re going to be okay. Right now, just focus on healing. Things are bad, but you’re alive. I’m alive. Your family is alive. Lian is alive. No one is going to prison. We’re all going to be okay. Eventually.”

And Jason was, once again, right.

Jade stayed a while longer, helping Roy take care of Lian while he healed. Jason stayed as long as he could too. Lian was beginning to adjust, slowly. Jason was reading her age-appropriate books about disabilities and sitting through the entirety of Avatar: The Last Airbender with her, because, “She’s not old enough for Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood yet and I know Toph has a completely different disability but representation is hard to come by.”

Roy’s family visited. Dinah and Ollie were barely speaking to each other – Dinah was apparently furious that Ollie had even considered killing anyone out of revenge – but they came anyway. Dinah let him vent, listening and not judging. Connor sat at Roy’s bedside and came up with a training regimen to account for Roy’s new limitations. Mia sat on his other side and threw out increasingly absurd ideas of what Roy’s prosthetic arm could do. Ollie offered to pay for physical therapy.

When he felt ready, which took a while, Roy got to work. He drew up schematics, he dug through other heroes’ research, he built prototypes and tested them, and he finally came up with the final product. His magnum opus. His pièce de résistance.

“You were right,” he told Jason, bringing him to an archery range for a field test. He was a bit out of practice, and he needed to adjust his technique a bit, but he had faith in his abilities. “Ollie had better enjoy being the best archer in the world while it lasts.”

Jason grinned. He’d been there with Roy throughout the whole process, making suggestions, cheering him on. “If you make this thing indestructible enough, you’ll basically have one of Diana’s gauntlets,” he’d pointed out. “How cool would that be?”

After Roy had tired himself out with hours of practice, he went home with Jason, and Jason spent a concerning amount of time inspecting the new arm, running his hands over it, getting used to the feel of it, prompting Roy to move it in different ways, testing Roy’s grip strength, seemingly pleased with his findings.

“You like it?” Roy asked. A spark of hopefulness lit up in his chest. He remembered being in the hospital, worrying that Jason wouldn’t love him anymore. In hindsight, it had been a stupid thing to worry about.

“I really like it,” Jason said.

“It doesn’t weird you out?”

“No, it’s sick as hell.”

Jason ran his fingers over Roy’s new fingers, bent them and then straightened them out, a line of concentration between his brows. He was staring intently, biting his lip.

“I can feel you objectifying me,” Roy said.

“You love it,” Jason retorted. He bent down and planted a kiss on Roy’s new palm.

X: BLACKEST NIGHT.

Jason.

Afterward, he would remember only bits and pieces of that night.

He would remember being over at Roy’s house for a visit when he got a call from Alfred, asking him if he was in Gotham, telling him someone had somehow found and raided Bruce’s unmarked grave.

He would remember saying goodbye to Roy, telling him he was needed in Gotham, suiting up, getting on his motorcycle, and making the three-hour late-night drive to his hometown, where Dick and Damian were waiting for him with terrifying news.

He would remember contacting Roy over comms, telling him the dead were rising and he needed to stay home with Lian, because it wasn’t safe anywhere.

He would remember racing to the police station, where there were reports that Gotham’s undead rogues were attacking, and wondering if the Joker was among them.

“Are we allowed to kill them?” Damian asked Dick on the way there. “They’re already dead!”

“That’s cold, Robin,” Jason teased. “Undead people have rights too.”

“It’s not killing if they’re already dead,” Dick reasoned, ignoring Jason. “So yes, Robin, you can ‘kill’ them. And Red Hood, I know you’re not asking permission.”

“Why would I?”

Dick ignored this too. “What’s the most effective method you’ve found to take them out?”

Fighting through Gotham, Jason had been systematically testing all the different weapons he had on him to use against the undead. They were resilient fuckers.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he warned. “Shotgun.”

He heard Dick curse under his breath. “Well, you do that. I’ll find another way.”

“Seriously?” Jason rolled his eyes. “You won’t break the rules one time against a horde of the undead who can only be stopped one way? B broke the rules one time!” Taking out Darkseid, Jason meant.

“And how did that work out for him?” Dick snapped back. “Not to mention the rest of us.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Jason complained, but he hadn’t pushed, instead letting his brothers subdue the undead long enough for him to shoot them in the head, one by one. It was almost an out-of-body experience, like playing a video game. It didn’t feel like real life.

They made it to the police station. The Joker was there, along with every other dead rogue in Gotham. “Good to see you’re still where I left you,” Jason said with a smirk. There may have been an apocalypse-level event happening around him, but at least Jason could rest assured the man who had killed him was still dead, as he deserved to be.

“Felt even better than the last time,” Jason announced after watching the Joker’s head explode with the force of one of his shotgun slugs. He’d been real efficient about it; he hadn’t even let the Joker get a word in. Roy would be so proud of him.

See? I can learn from my mistakes.

“Did you see that, Batman?” Jason called out. “Look how effective that is!”

“Shut up and keep helping!” Dick yelled at him, unwilling to budge on the matter of using guns.

Jason shook his head and shot another rogue dead. Or… re-dead. “Making me do all your dirty work,” he muttered, still loud enough for Dick to hear him.

“You love doing our dirty work,” Dick retorted, and that was true.

Jason took out the rogues – single-fucking-handedly, he might add – but they were still being swarmed. “Fucking zombies,” he remarked. “At least have the decency to come back the right way. You know, alive.”

“Because you were so much less violent than they are when you came back,” Damian taunted.

“At least I could be reasoned with!”

“You weren’t ‘reasoned with.’ You were seduced.”

“How do you even know about that?”

“Obviously Batman told me about it.”

Jason huffed indignantly. “Well, no one’s seducing these ugly bastards.” He got another headshot. He was doing his best, taking out as many of the undead as he could, but it wasn’t enough. They were going to be overtaken. Soon. “Any time any of you want to start fucking helping—”

Tim came to the rescue, via fucking plane – “Are you even old enough to have your pilot’s license?” “Yes, actually” – but they hardly got to take a breath before more shit hit the fan, in the form of Dick and Tim’s undead parents, who’d somehow stowed away.

“Oh, that’s fucked,” Jason said, taking the controls, since he was apparently the only one who wasn’t getting a family reunion (not that he was complaining). “I’ll take us down so we can kick them off.”

There weren’t a lot of empty stretches of land long enough to touch down on. They ended up on the golf course, because fuck golf.

Unfortunately, the golf course wasn’t that far from Gotham Cemetery. So the location had its pros and cons.

“We can’t fight off every corpse in Gotham if you all don’t get with the fucking program,” Jason said.

“Robin, find us some more effective weapons,” Dick instructed Damian. “No firearms.”

“On it,” Damian said. They weren’t far from the Batcave either, thankfully, though it meant going through the cemetery.

“Don’t get murdered!” Jason shouted after him. He turned to help Dick and Tim with their undoubtedly traumatizing encounters when his eyes caught on approaching figures in the distance, from the direction of the cemetery. “Guess I’m on crowd control again,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. Dick and Tim were going to have to fend for themselves.

Jason sprinted across the golf course, shotgun in hand. As soon as he was within range, he took aim, and—

His breath caught in his throat. He recognized the figure at the front of the approaching horde. “No fucking way.”

He should have made this one a swift-but-lethal headshot too. He could hear a voice in his head that sounded like Roy telling him he should. Don’t let him distract you. That’s why he’s here. You know that’s why he’s here. Take him out like the Joker.

His finger hovered over the trigger. He heard his own voice this time: Do it. Fucking shoot him.

He lowered the shotgun, took off his helmet and tossed it to the ground. He continued his approach, slower this time, his steps measured and purposeful.

“You,” he called out, voice cold and hard and sharp. His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel himself shaking. With rage, he told himself, though he knew that wasn’t all. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I always hoped you were dead.”

Sorry, Roy. I need this one right now.

The figure held his decaying arms out, the expression on his face smug. He was missing clumps of his hair and patches of his skin, revealing muscle and sinew underneath, but in Jason’s eyes, he looked the same as he always had.

“Look at you,” the figure said in a voice that sliced through Jason like a scythe. “All grown up.”

Jason’s grip on the shotgun tightened. Fucker.

It was embarrassing, was what it was. All these years later, and this man still had this much of an effect on him.

There were a lot of gaps in Jason’s memory from those years, but he remembered enough, and now it felt like all of it was happening to him at once.

Mental note, talk to Roy about therapy after this. But first…

“I’d keep my distance if I were you,” Jason warned. “The tables have turned, Dad.”

“That’s right,” the reanimated corpse of Jason’s biological father agreed with a sickening smile half-full of yellow teeth. “Not such a little bitch anymore, are you?”

No. No fucking smiling. Jason hit Willis in the face with the butt of his shotgun, knocking him back, but not knocking the sick smile off his face. “No, that was always you.”

“Aren’t you just a chip off the old block?” Willis taunted.

“Oh, I’m a much better criminal than you ever were,” Jason assured him.

“Still didn’t manage to make anything of your life, though, did you?” He got too close, and Jason hit him again. He was undeterred. Jason knew there was only one way to stop him for good. He’d get to that. “I always knew you’d never amount to anything.”

“You don’t know me,” Jason spat out. “You never did.”

“I know you better than anyone,” Willis insisted. “I know, deep down, you’re still crying under the kitchen table, letting your stepmother face the consequences of your actions.”

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

Jason punched him, full-force, knocking out a few of his remaining teeth. Jason felt a rush of power course through him. Oh, this is better than therapy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he said, grinning right back at Willis, holstering his shotgun on his back – he’d save that for later – and winding up again.

“Jason?”

Jason froze. His ears started ringing. He had Willis by the collar, and he didn’t want to look up. He couldn’t look up. He had to look up.

He looked up.

“Jason, is that you?”

He felt sick. She looked almost as decayed as Willis did. She’d been too thin when she’d died; she was even thinner now, skeletal.

“Mom?” His voice cracked on the word. He shoved Willis to the ground, stepped on his throat to keep him there.

“You’ve gotten so big and strong,” Catherine said. She sounded just like Jason remembered. He’d almost forgotten that voice. It had almost faded from his memory. But here it was again.

She continued, “You were never strong enough to protect me before.”

Jason choked on a lump in his throat. “I wanted to be. I wanted to save you.”

Jason remembered finding her body. He’d been dumpster diving for food and he’d left her home alone. She’d already been cold by the time he got back. He still sometimes wondered, if he’d been there, if he’d gotten to her in time to call for help, if she would still be alive.

“You didn’t get there in time,” she told him.

Just like Bruce.

“You weren’t enough. If you had been, I could have gotten clean.”

They were the same words Jason had said to himself over and over again. The same words he’d once confessed to Roy. He remembered what Roy had said in response, and he grabbed onto the sentiment, held it tightly.

“I was a child,” he said.

“You were all I had.”

As guilt threatened to overtake him, Jason felt the thread of something else along with it. Anger.

He knew anger. He knew how to use it.

“You were all I had!”

He barely remembered the rest of the night. He had a bloody image of shooting his father in the head. A shaky image of aiming for Catherine next, unable to pull the trigger. A vague impression of Damian coming to the rescue.

Roy’s voice in his ear again, asking him desperately if one of the black rings had found him and converted him, because apparently they were doing that to other resurrected heroes. Roy’s audible relief brought some of the feeling back into Jason’s limbs.

Next thing Jason knew, they were in the Batcave. He was leaning against the stone wall, head still buzzing. Tim was arguing with Dick, insisting upon Bruce’s survival in the face of new evidence. “Even Hal and Barry believe it!” Jason heard him say, and Dick reluctantly agreed that it could be possible.

Tim had turned to Jason, wanting to share his vindication. Jason was unresponsive, staring at his own maskless reflection in his helmet, red and distorted.

He hadn’t realized how much he resembled his father, now that he was older.

“Tim, write up a mission report and send it to the Justice League,” Dick instructed. Tim reluctantly followed orders. Dick approached Jason and put a hand on his shoulder.

Jason almost had enough presence of mind to feel humiliated that he was so affected by this while Dick and Tim seemed to have successfully repressed their feelings for the time being, like true Waynes.

“Hey,” Dick said tentatively. He wasn’t wearing the cowl anymore, which helped. But they hadn’t had an emotionally vulnerable conversation since Dick had become Batman. Jason wasn’t sure they both still knew how. Not that they’d been much good at it before.

Jason’s voice came out hollow. He didn’t break eye contact with his reflection. “Ungrateful little bitch who would never amount to anything,” he said.

“What?”

“That’s what he told me I was. Such a failure of a son that my own mother didn’t even want me.”

Dick’s grip on Jason’s shoulder tightened. “They were only saying those things to get to us, Jay.”

Jason looked up. “No, your parents were only saying those things to get to you. Your parents loved you. He didn’t say anything to me that he hadn’t said before.”

Jason didn’t know how much Dick knew about Willis. He’d never talked to Dick much about it, even when he was younger. He’d talked to Bruce about it a little, and Roy, later.

Like he’d read Jason’s mind, Dick asked, “Do you want me to get in touch with Roy?”

Jason closed his eyes. “I’d rather talk to B about it.”

There was a long pause. Dick didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t. There was nothing to say.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said.

“Not your fault,” Jason replied, hollow again. He shrugged Dick off of him, masked up, and left the Cave.

He was going to New York. He couldn’t be alone tonight. But first, he visited Bruce’s ransacked grave, and he looked into it, and he said, “I’ll deny ever admitting this when or if you do come back, but… I miss you.”

There was nothing else to say here either.

The sun was all the way up by the time Jason got to Roy’s house. Roy and Lian were both home. They were safe. Jason took a long, hot, cleansing shower, changed into Roy’s clothes, because they smelled like him, and found him in Lian’s bedroom, reassuring her after what had likely been one of the scariest nights of her life.

When Jason entered, Roy turned to look at him, and something on Jason’s face or in the way he was holding himself must have clued him in, because he immediately stood and drew Jason in for a hug and held him while he cried and Lian asked him what was wrong.

“I think Jay had a scary night too,” Roy told her.

Jason nodded, and buried his face in the crook of Roy’s neck, and Lian got out of bed and wrapped her arms around him too.

“I’m ready to leave Gotham,” Jason said weakly.

Roy held him tighter. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”