Chapter Text
When he first came back, Jason wasn't planning on settling down and building a life. He wasn't planning anything, really; he wasn't in his right mind, and he could take ownership of that now. Any thoughts he did have were manic, angry, clouded, and invariably focused on the future. He barely had time for the present, much less the past.
It makes some messed-up kind of sense, then, that the memories would catch up with him when he finally stopped running.
Shit had been too good for too long. He was renting a place with Harper, originally as "partners," then as something more entwined. Technically, they had never named whatever their relationship was, but that was surprisingly alright by Jason. Roy, unlike the men he'd previously known, never asked for more than Jason was willing to give. Jason made breakfast in the mornings, and they cuddled in the evenings, usually watching trash TV. Around 9, after their nighttime coffees but before patrol, they'd both tuck Lian into bed.
She called Jason Dad.
At first, he'd been terrified. Frozen terrified, that hands-shaking-breath-catching kind of scared. He'd taken something from Roy. Fuck, he'd taken Roy's own daughter from him.
The first time it happened, after a bedtime story, he'd stumbled out of the room and sat down hard on the hallway floor. That's when the hand settled between his shoulder blades, warm and steady. A calm voice in his ear, the air bothering him until he shrugged a shoulder up to push the voice away, like always.
Roy had laughed--a beautiful sound, like tinkling bells, something Jason wished he could bottle and keep close, maybe in the inner pocket of his jacket.
You know what she calls me, Jaybird.
And he did. Lian had always called Roy Ba, a remnant of the Vietnamese she remembered from her mom. From outside his own body, Jason had watched himself nod, and Roy smile generously.
Ba means dad, too, Jay. She can have two. If anything, this makes things less confusing.
Less confusing. God, he'd never been more confused. Everything was good. Everything was great. Everything was love.
The darkness was an insidious, creeping thing. It snuck in during otherwise perfect moments: baking cookies for Lian's class while she "helped," a cordial phone call with Dickie about a case, taking the bike out on the weekends while Roy held on tight at his back. He was used to the sudden chaos of panic and disorientation from PTSD. Everyone he knew was. This quiet pull was new and unsettling. It told him to touch the oven trays with his bare hands, to hang up and go stand on the edge of the balcony, to swerve the bike just to the edge of crashing.
He wouldn't do it. But it was an option. It was gravity.
Things came to a head when Roy came back early from the bodega. It was a Saturday afternoon. Lian was lying with him on the couch. She was saying something, hands all around his face, but Jason was far away, hands tingling like pins and needles, thinking about the previous night's patrol.
He had jumped off a building and almost forgotten to fire his grapple. His muscle memory just. Didn't click. The recovery had been quick enough, if not smooth or seamless, and he had landed just fine on a ledge below his target, where he had shimmied up a pipe and kept going. But he hadn't stopped thinking about how he almost fell. How he could've made it look like an accident.
A click, a thud, and Lian was popping up from the couch with shocking speed, rushing to the door.
"Ba!" she cheered.
Jason clawed himself back to the land of the living. Lian was colliding with his favorite redhead (sorry, Kori), adorably only coming up to his mid-thigh, which she hugged tightly. Angel that he was, Roy laughed that perfect laugh and set the single bag down on the floor so he could ruffle her hair. His pale, nimble fingers slowed when he looked up.
"Jaybird...?"
Oh, now he remembered. They were pretty good on groceries, but they were out of spaghetti sauce, and Jason had wanted smokes. He usually got his own because he didn't like sending Roy to pick up something addictive, no matter how small. But he'd broken his rule. He'd wanted to sit on the couch.
"You look different," Roy said after a moment of silence, careful to choose each word.
In a practiced motion, the archer was able to pick Lian up and balance her on his hip. With both legs free in their beat-up jeans, he started toward the couch.
"Feel different," Jason replied, startled at the words coming out of his own mouth. "Weird. Wrong."
"Okay." Roy, beautiful Roy, eased himself and his--their?--daughter onto the couch then. "Okay, baby. That's alright. I think Li messed with your hair. Right?"
Slowly, he managed to lift his hands to the nape of his neck, the hair there trimmed close as always. Higher, the dark locks got thicker, bunched up, until his fingers hit elastic. Huh. Despite himself, his lips quirked up, fondness melting the ice in his chest. He leaned in close to Lian, almost nose-to-nose.
"You try to give me a ponytail, princess?"
She giggled, nose scrunching up above an unburdened smile. "Gave you three!"
"Three?!"
Feigning shock, he lifted a heavy hand to his open mouth. There was still some disconnection between his brain and his limbs, but some feeling was starting to come back. Somewhere between Lian's jumbled and half-coherent explanations about the ponytails, the main point being that three is two more than Ba has and therefore made up for Jason's significantly shorter hair, Roy stood up abruptly.
You two alright? the archer's eyes asked.
Jason hoped his answering glare was enough to say, Don't coddle me. Presumably, it worked, because Roy disappeared down the hall soon after. That was conspicuous, but Jason tried hard to stay focused on the toddler who was halfway in his lap. She was so small, he could almost fit her whole head in his palm. When he tried, she looked up and giggled, then just kept rambling on. So perfect, just like her dad.
The dad in question sounded like he was having a one-sided conversation out in the hall, which was a little confusing since no one else was home, but Jason was hardly one to judge other people's mental stability. Unfortunately, when Roy reappeared, an air of somberness followed with him. He was clearly trying to paste on a comforting smile, but it looked so clearly strained and fake that for a moment, it reminded Jason of crowbar warehouse countdown cigarette forehand backhand forehand and he had to gasp out,
"Roy."
Whether Roy understood his exact issue with the smile or not, it fell off his face with a startling speed.
"Fu--crap. Alright. Sorry 'bout that, Jay. Lian, honey, would you mind going to your room real quick? You're not in trouble; Ba and Dad just wanna talk about boring stuff, like taxes."
In a better, less tense mood, Jason would've laughed at how well that worked, Lian's little face screwing up into a frown as she half-ran off and out of earshot. It was not lost on Jason that Roy waited until they could hear her door firmly shut to approach him.
If Roy was going to hit him--which, he'd never do, but hey--he was at least being considerate about it. Willis had never bothered sending Jason away before whaling on Catherine. It was kinder, not letting Lian see. Jason would have to take her away afterwards, of course, for her safety, but she wouldn't have to live with those memories like he did.
It wasn't until Roy's hands encapsulated one of his own that he flinched and realized this was Roy he was talking about. Roy Harper, who wasn't opposed to using lethal force on predators but had spent hours saving actual cats from actual trees on multiple occasions. Roy, with whom he shared a life and a bed.
"Jason," his Roy said softly. (Fuck, he was always soft with him, anymore.)
"Roy. I'm. I'm not quite here, am I?"
His lover's Adam's apple, which always protruded so far out his neck it looked damn near painful, bobbed with the weight of grief before Jason's eyes. Grief wasn't a right look on Roy.
"Am I..." He stopped to wet his lips. "Am I still dead?"
He closed his eyes instantly after asking, not wanting to see Roy's expression if he was wrong.
"Hey, Harper? It's okay if I'm dead, you know. Or... yeah. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad, and that's more than I can say 'bout half my life, so. I don't mind goin' back."
Eyes still closed, the darkness seemed absolute, just like it had been in that calm void.
"It's okay," Jason continued, now imagining he was a ghost in Roy's living room. "The half-alive thing... the ghosting. If I had to pick somebody to haunt, it'd be you, y'know? It really would. It's... not bad. It's almost nice."
"Almost?" came a pained whisper, and Jason's resolve broke.
He opened his eyes. Roy was crying, just a few silent tears, but definitely crying. As he watched, helpless, the other man let out a single, pitiful sniffle.
Fuck. If I'm a ghost, I'm a really shitty ghost.
He didn't want to think about the alternative. The alternative would require a lot of talking, possibly to a therapist, which was off the table. Being a ghost was definitely preferable.
Roy squeezed, reminding Jason he was still there. (And reminding him that oh fuck, ghosts probably don't feel that, do they?)
"Okay," the redhead muttered. "Fuck, hell, okay, we can do this, we're gonna do this." He brought his voice up a little louder, more coherent. "This is what we're gonna do, Jaybird. You have two options, and both of them are okay, but you gotta pick one, okay?"
Jason didn't like ultimatums. He nodded anyway. It was the least he could do to clean up his own mess.
"Alright." A heavy exhale. "Option A is we drop Lian off with Ollie and Dinah, and we take off patrol for a few nights while I look after you and we figure out what's going on in your noggin, alright?"
That sounded not so good.
"Option B is we go to your--to the manor, where we can stay there for a bit with Lian, and we can all get some extra hands. Grampa Alfie and the rest get some Lian time, and your brothers can help me get you back on your feet."
No.
"Either way, the bottom line is... I'm getting really worried about you, Jaybird. Like, more than the usual, baseline-level worrying. But I dunno if I can care for you and Lian both on my own right now, so I'm gonna need some help to help you."
"I don't want help."
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Roy's face got red fast. Jason was familiar with the look. His partner was trying valiantly to restrain his anger, but it was very much simmering under the surface.
"Wanna try again, babe?" he asked, voice drawn tight. "I know you did not just say that to me again."
Yikes. Jason mulled it over for a minute, but it was like choosing between an evening swim with piranhas or belly-flopping onto concrete. On the one hand, Ollie was a dick--especially to Roy--and he still didn't understand why the man was allowed grandparent privileges. But on the other hand, B was a dick to Jason, and actual Dick was too goddamn earnest for his own good, and even Damian had a way of digging into Jason's insecurities that always tempted a fight.
Either way, Jason would probably bullshit for a bit, get out of this funk on his own, and leave as soon as he saw the opportunity. Not for the first time, he wished he were Harvey and could leave all his decisions to the flip of a coin. But in this case, there was a variable that was too important: Lian. Jason would not ask his partner to take time away from his daughter.
"Fine. Option B, then. Take me away, I guess."
Roy rolled his eyes. "I'm not arresting you."
"For the best," Jason said, deadpan. "I think I can break handcuffs now. Pit gave me super-strength."
"Unfortunately, it didn't give you super-mental-health, so you might wanna pack a bag."
Jason turned his face into the couch cushions. Something was still wrong in his chest. The couch didn't feel right--didn't feel quite real, solid, like it should. He mumbled, Fuck you, Harper, but it got muffled beyond recognition, and he could admit to himself it had no bite.
A hand with nimble fingers rested in his hair. After a moment of scratching at the scalp, the fingers began undoing elastic bands, freeing his short locks from their prisons.
"You're okay, Jaybird," Roy said, so soft he almost didn't catch it. "I'll start packing for you."