Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn around and go back the way he came.
No. He had to do this.
Roy swallowed down a shaky breath and shook his head. Coward. Mentally berating himself, the red head reminded his sorry self why he was here. How he rehearsed the lines, the reasons over and over until he was having nightmares about the whole event. Though Dick had promised not to tell the others of their encounter, and he seemed to keep his word, the militant knew he had to come clean on his own. He owed this to older man, to his team, he had to do this. No matter the outcome (and more than anything, Roy expected a less than positive outcome) they deserved the truth.
Getting into the compound hadn’t been hard. Perhaps it was nostalgia on Jason’s part, or perhaps just something the vigilante over looked (both reasons doubtful), but Roy’s information and physical signature had been stored in all the alarm systems. It allowed him to bypass security as easily as he would in his own house. So though it had been years since he had last stepped into his old home, he walked the halls easily and without difficulty. He had wondered where he might find Jason in the multi-leveled facility, but Roy figured he might as well start with the older’s favorite spots.
The ex- SEAL had been wandering the compound for a good twenty minutes now, working his way up from the garage. Sure, it had been a while, but Roy never forgot about his friends, nor did he forget their habits and hobbies. Jason hadn’t been in the garage though, wasn’t restoring a new bike, or cleaning his guns. It made the red head wonder, as he boarded the lift, how much had the group changed? Roy himself, felt like there was so much different about him, his experiences of the last few years changing him, yet at his core, he was very much the same. Though he had been in Gotham for a few weeks now, he hadn’t gotten much intel on his old team. A while back they had been involved in cleaning up a break out at Arkham, but since then, things had been quiet. Had they given up their nightly activities? Were they just completely different people?
It was things like this that continued to shake Roy’s confidence in his decision. Still, it’s why he had come back to Gotham in the first place, and if he didn’t at least take the chance of being rejected he would kick himself for it later. He had to at least try. This was the last family he had left, he needed to know… So when Roy encountered the sound of Jason’s voice carrying from behind the upcoming door, the ex- SEAL paused in front of it. He hadn’t heard that voice in so long, and Roxy’s bark— everything seemed exactly the same. It made the red head smile and want to run away simultaneously. He was about to rip open an old wound, he knew that, but was it for the best, or was it just his own selfishness?
With one final burst of dutiful determination, Roy twisted the knob, slowly pushing the door to the library open, catching himself holding his breath.
“Hey, Jaybird. Long time no see.”
Oh yeah.
This was going to be good.
The fingers on Roxy’s ears froze at the sound of a male voice. The words were lost on Jason, barely registering.
Not Henri. No French accent. Dick’s isn’t that deep, and besides, he’s asleep right now. Lack of accent rules Ilya out too. That’s it. No one else could be in here. No one.
There was silence in the library now, save for the barely audible growling of Roxy, who was now standing at attention in front of Jason. Her ears were pulled tight to her head, and her fur stood on end. She was a friendly dog by nature, but fiercely loyal and protective. And, at the size of a small bear, she was more than capable of defending her family.
“Easy girl. I’ll handle it.” Jason murmured. She whined once before sitting, unhappy to be called off.
Standing, Jason ran through his weaponry before turning around. No hood. Two Sig Sauers, twelve in the mags and one in each chamber. Six spare mags on my belt. Ka-Bar tucked into my boot. Airweight .38 special in the ankle holster. The jacket hides the shoulder holster, but it’s unbuttoned so access won’t be an issue.
He turned on his heel, scanning the room until he spotted the intruder, standing barely a meter inside the door. Decently tall, muscular. Hands in his jacket pockets. Worn leather over an even more worn hoodie. Red hair.
Fuck.
The words he’d barely heard clicked into place now.
“Hey, Jaybird.”
Roy.
Goddammit, it was Roy.
Roy was dead. Jason had dug his arm out of the rubble himself. He’d held it, felt the callouses and scars he’d been so intimate with. Ran a finger over the tattoo, barely visible under the burnt hair and scorched flesh. He’d carried it all the way back to the Complex, cleaned it off in the sink in the garage. He and Kory, with Henri and Dick and Zatanna, had stood vigil over a small grave behind the Complex. The tombstone was simple; Kory had chosen it. “Roy William Harper, Jr. A good soldier.” Dick and Zatanna had cried, and Kory had cursed and yelled and pleaded for the gods to bring him back. Jason turned his pain into rage. Gotham was still bleeding. He’d mourn when whomever was responsible for dropping a building on Arsenal was dead.
Less than a week later, Bane was dead, and Roy seemingly avenged. None of the thugs and cronies he interrogated seemed to remember being near Arsenal that day, and he had ways of ensuring they told the truth. Eventually, he accepted that he’d taken care of his honor bound duty, and began life again. He’d spent a good chunk of change on tracking anyone that fit the description of Arsenal, even making a trip to Star City to have a chat with the chartreuse archer about their obvious connection. Nothing had come of it. It had been two years or so since he’d been seen, but here he was in the fucking library, saying hello like nothing had happened.
A thousand reactions ran through his mind, each less rational than the last. Let Roxy at him. Screaming at him. Beating him senseless. Accepting him back with no questions asked. He could kill him, fill the rest of the grave.
He chose none of these. With a snap of his fingers, Roxy was at his heel, and Jason was walking towards his former teammate. Twenty feet. Fifteen, ten. Five. He could see the harsh profile of the prosthesis outlined in the leather jacket, see the size difference in one arm to the next. His clothes were dirty, and he looked worse for wear. Like he’d been through hell while he was gone. Pity rose up in Jason, and he started to think of how Dick and he had bonded after his death, how close they were now. Then he remembered the months he’d been without Kory, and that pity burned away. He’d been alone, abandoned twice by his Outlaws. Alone. Exactly how he should be. Drawing a breath, Jason spoke to Roy for the first time in two years.
“No.”
He roughly pushed past him, shouldering him in the collarbone as he left the library. Quick steps took him to the lift, and he was on the roof within a minute. It was midmorning, and the sun was without a hint of warmth. Frost curled in the shadows, and the sounds of a weekday echoed up from the streets. From here, you could see all of Gotham; three hundred and sixty degrees of metal, stone, and glass. He exhaled, watching his breath fog outward. Attempted to let his anger burn off, to shove it back deep inside of himself. Roxy nuzzled his leg, attuned as she was to her master’s emotions.
Boots on pavement behind him. Jason groaned inwardly. Why did you follow me, Roy? He turned to face him again, this time prepared for what he would see.
and all of this will never be the same again 