repeatrenegade:

Okay. So it was clear Jason wasn’t having a good night, if the sudden tensing, the controlled shake of his shoulders, was anything to go by (and of course, it was). But then again, when did the older man have a good night? By definition everything he did, everything he felt, it twisted up inside him, tearing harshly at his insides like barbed wire if you tried to pull it out. But Roy didn’t come here to shy away from what needed to be said, and apparently, that’s exactly what Jason wanted to hear.

“Aw, jeeze…” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, over his face and letting out a hefty sigh, Roy scuffed his boot against the worn roof top, kicking a small pebble and watching it fly over the edge. The red head would have liked to think the threat wasn’t real, that Jason, his best friend, wouldn’t really kill him. Rough him up a little? Sure. Give him the cold shoulder? Check. But kill him? Still, it had been two years, and for all he knew, this Jason was different. At least he hadn’t lost his affinity for chain smoking.

“I can’t really convince you not to kill me. We both know you’re gonna do what you want once you’re set on an idea, and I totally get you’re not my biggest fan at the moment. It’s just—” Roy cut himself off, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he resisted the anxious urge to wave them around, animated as he spoke.

“I’m gonna sound like a fuckin’ asshole, but I— Man, I didn’t have a say. In anything. If it were up to me, believe me, Jay— I’d be dead right now, just like you thought I was five minutes ago.” The ex- SEAL sucked in his cheeks, lips pursed as he debated his next move. Jason’s back was still to him, but he watched, fixed on the red glow of ash and the smoke that rose over the man’s broad shoulders. No matter what he said, he knew his friend (ex-friend?) was going to be disappointed, so Roy relented. If this was it for them, Jason at least deserved the truth for once.

“After I disappeared, I was sure I was done for. I mean, I dunno if you noticed,” He tried to joke. “I lost an arm. I was in shock, disoriented and cut off from communications. I didn’t know how to contact you guys, didn’t know how to cope with the.. handicap. I spiraled, dude. Self ‘medicated’ on heroin of all things.” The red head shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling self conscious and childish as he shared his vulnerability with the man he knew would be judging every word that came out of his mouth. He respected Jason so much, almost too much in fact, to the degree that every disappointing word that fell out of his mouth just made him want to turn tail and run again. “I was out of it maybe a couple months before Waller found me. She set me straight, got me back on my feet, on a team and it.. it was her decision to declare me dead. No contact. That way, there would only be the mission. I owed her, and you know how I am with debts…” He smiled lightly, remembered Jason couldn’t see him and sighed.

“I stayed with the team for almost two years before it occurred to me Amanda would never let me out of her debt, that I was there until I died. And I…” He shrugged. “Dunno. I realized I didn’t owe her anymore, that real families don’t owe each other, aren’t pawns for each other. So I walked. But, you know me, I’m the bad kid in foster care— I just leave one family and go on to the next. I came back because…  Well, I was sorta hoping I hadn’t outstayed my welcome in this one.”

Roy wasn’t sure how Jason would feel about his words, but he had explained himself, had said what he needed to, and if the older man was still upset, he’d accept it. He’d be sad, upset, disappointed; but he’d understand.

“But, that’s not my decision. It’s yours.”

The tale of the lost archer should have roused sympathy in Jason’s heart. After all, he himself had been scared, lost, confused, broken-dead. Actually dead. That thought caused anger to well up in his chest like a vice, squeezing the air from his lungs, iron bars around his ribs.

Another cigarette, gone. He tried to purge the rage from him with every exhale, trying to make the smoke carry away two years of regrets and unfulfilled fury towards the people who had murdered his best friend. The source may have changed, but the cause was still there. It was only made more complicated now that Jason knew that Roy himself had been responsible for the death of Arsenal, and that didn’t calm Jason’s nerves at all.

He dug for another clove, only to find that he was already smoking the last one. Dammit. A response was expected here, and Jason wasn’t ready to talk yet. So he slowed down, savoring the last cigarette, watching the golden sunlight bathe the city in rays of life. He thought about the good that had come from Roy’s death, the bonding he’d had with Dick in his absence. Happier things. Slowly, his anger faded, just enough to feel reasonably confident that he wouldn’t put rounds in Roy’s chest.

He turned around.

The sight of him-scruffy beard, thick jawline, copper hair. The bulky arms, bigger than Jason’s own. Stocky, as if a giant had been compressed into a six foot frame by being squashed slightly. The clothes that looked like they’d been tossed out from a Goodwill donation site. The eyes, broken and weary and sad-snapped him out of the semi calm he’d managed to muster up.

“I should have expected it, you know. Your inevitable betrayal.” Great start, Jason. “I went to Star City, about six months after you disappeared. Talked to the Green Arrow.” He paused, locking eyes with Roy. “He didn’t even know you were dead.” Jason saw the hurt in his eyes, and it made him feel slightly better. 

“He told me about how you up and left for the Navy one day, with no warning. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it coming. I mean shit, Harper, you did the exact same fucking thing with me!” Jason was yelling now, fully past the point of holding back.

“You had people who cared about you. You had a woman who loved you, who stuck up for you when I was sick of your bullshit. You had a family, but the genius Roy Harper doesn’t need that, does he?” Jason exhaled, running a hand through his black and white hair. 

This conversation was reminding him far too much of the one he’d had with Bruce, the one that ended in blood and pain and broken bones and nothing accomplished except for seeing another man’s regrets come to the surface of his soul. Jason didn’t want to fight, not here, not with Roy. So he swallowed the urge to deck the man, instead taking one step closer to him.

“You showed us you don’t care. You have nothing to return to. Why are you here?”

repeatrenegade:

Well. That could have gone worse.

He could have been shot.

Roy suspected that in the time it took Jason to turn around and recognize him, he was already taking stock of the different ways to attack, to defend himself, all the while wondering what this untold threat could be. It was so completely Jason, that the red head couldn’t imagine those brief seconds in the older man’s mind going any other way. Roy was a little surprised at the fact that a gun hadn’t been pulled, Jason didn’t so much have his hands on one when he turned around. So he was getting better at controlling his impulses? Or did this showcase some of that ‘change in character’ he had been wondering about?

Still, in the brief moment it took Jason to stride across the room, the ex-SEAL wondered if maybe the gunslinger was going for a more personal touch. A punch across the jaw wouldn’t exactly be welcome, but he figured he deserved it. Yet, ah, Jason was walking straight past him, a hard ‘No.’ as his response. So he didn’t want to deal with this, wanted to push his feelings and turmoil aside? It was such a Jason response, one he knew so well, that Roy couldn’t help but grin. Turning on his heel, following, he watched the lift carry Jason up and up, before heading to the stairs himself. He didn’t have the will nor the patience right now, to wait for it to come back down for him.

Maybe this had been the right thing to do. Maybe they could work it out. The red head wasn’t so disillusioned to think that he could fix this, that he could just show up and everything would be okay. This was going to be hard, and it was going to be painful, but Roy’d like to think it was worth it. So he’d fake nonchalance, because in a situation like this, nothing would make Jason angrier, and the sooner Jason got angry, the sooner they could move past it. Jason was Roy’s best friend, and if the militant needed to take a beating before he could be anything close to accepted back into his best friend’s life, he was willing to do it.

Barely breathing hard, Roy stepped out onto the open roof. He could see Jason’s posture change, see him tense ever so slightly, shoulder’s stiff, though they didn’t look to be. This was his friend, his brother, a person who, sometimes, the red head thought he knew better than he knew himself, and he wondered if that assumption would still hold true.

“Hey, man. I… Look, I know this has gotta’ be the total last thing you wanna talk about. But, it’s sorta… Well, y’know— gotta be talked about.” So he wasn’t a modern day Shakespeare, cut him some slack. The ex- SEAL had a lot more pressing matters in his time alive than learning how to turn everything he said into poetry. The few moments he could string a few verses together— well those times were reserved for those Roy hoped to better get to know. If you caught his meaning.

Still, this required at least some thought on his part, especially if he planned to figure out the best way to navigate such a minefield. Where did he start? What did he say? ‘Surprise, Jaybird. I’m actually not dead. I never was dead. But I couldn’t tell you. Mostly because I relapsed and had no idea where I was half the time. Yeah, and you know that woman, Amanda Waller? The one who almost got me killed in Africa? Well, I started working for her again until I realized I didn’t owe her anymore and I wanted to come home. So can I come home?’  Yeah. Cause that wasn’t an explanation that would blow up in his face. Unfortunately for him, however, it was the truth. It was just a matter of explaining with a bit more… tact.

Roy didn’t like to be full of himself, well, okay, he did, it was in his nature, but he was also self aware enough to know what he meant people. The red head knew what he meant to his dad, to the reservation and to Dinah. He knew what he was to Ollie, to Amanda and the rest of the SEAL team. Roy knew what he was to Kory, and he knew who he was through Jason’s eyes; so he understood what it must of felt like, to find out he was dead. Or so he thought. Still, he also knew the types of lives lead by Outlaws, and it must have been seven types of hell around and following his death. Jason wasn’t just going to be upset that he never came forward with the truth, Jason was going to blame him for all the issues Roy had abandoned him to deal with alone.

“You can’t deny the situation forever, Jaybird. I’m standing right here. And I’m gonna stay here ‘til you say something. And ‘no’ isn’t a sufficient something.”

There was a tightness in his chest, a pressure that constricted his thoughts and sent adrenaline surging through his body. The all too familiar panic attacks he used to get in the years following his death had started with this sensation, and it was only a decade and a half of experience that allowed Jason to harness the event, rather than let it control him. 

The shakes were easy. Breathe, in and out. In, out. The muscles would loosen up sooner or later. The racing pulse would follow. It was the flashbacks that were the worst. The crowbar lifting up against a florescent light, drops of blood and brain matter fanning away from it in a cinnamon spray. The horrible, horrible laughter.

An involuntary shudder ripped through Jason, and he let it run its course. For years, he had tried to suppress the episodes, eventually learning that the best method of treatment was to accept them. Still, he hadn’t had one since…Well, since the night after Bane was killed. After he’d accepted that his teammate, his First Mate, his best friend, was dead.

Godammit, Harper. God fucking dammit. We buried you. We moved on. We tried to forget. We dealt with your loss. And now, to find out you’ve been alive? That you put us all through this for nothing? That’s not something brothers do. Kori won’t ever be the same. Dick, sure. Chalk that up as the silver lining. But to toss away the two life debts you claimed you owed me for this? Never again.

Roy was rambling, stumbling from word to word like he was afraid Jason would kill him at the first silence. To be fair, Roy wasn’t far wrong; however, Jason would at least wait to hear the story before deciding to kill Roy. Jason wasn’t in a hurry anymore. 

Still looking out over the Gotham skyline, Jason pulled out a pack of cloves, putting the first one in between his lips. Turning slightly to look behind him, he spoke around the cigarette. “You have until this pack is empty to convince me not to kill you where you stand.” The Zippo clicked, and flame erupted around the tip of the black cigarette. “There are four after this. Go.”

repeatrenegade:

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.