Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ages:
Jason Todd: 19
Roy Harper: 24
Lian Harper: 6 (and our queen)
Kori’ander: 23 ( in humans years)
Artemis of Bana-Mighdall: 21
Bizarro: 9 (Chronologically) (He's a clone) (It's confusing just go with it)

Bizarro’s nicknames:

Jason: Red Him
Artemis: Red Her
Kori: Space Red
Roy: Archer Red
Lian: Little Red
The Outlaws: Red Thems

****

Bruce knocked his fist against the wooden door, his cowl casting a dramatic shadow across the front step. Behind him, all in various stages of injury, stood the entire Justice League, watching the small cabin with curious glances. An awkward silence surrounded them, until Hal finally spoke up, his voice more than slightly nervous. “Are you sure about this, Batman?” To his everlasting credit, Bruce only hesitated for a second before grunting back a “Yes. These are allies.” The door swung open, revealing an older-looking teen with guns strapped to his thighs. The league froze. This, whatever this was, was not what they had expected when Batman himself led them to a safe-house in the middle of nowhere. The teen sighed, glaring at them. “What the hell, Dad?”

Everyone but Batman and Wonder Woman reeled in shock. This kid just called Batman what?

Inside, Bruce glowed. It wasn’t very often that his second son called him ‘Dad’, even if it was accompanied by an eyeroll or an angry remark. He would take what he could get. Bruce blinked himself out of his thoughts - Jason’s jaw was tense, waiting for an answer.

“All our other safe-houses are compromised. We just need a few days to patch ourselves back up and make a plan.”

Jason’s scowl drew darker. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Jaylad, just a couple of days.”

The teen stepped closer to Bruce, his voice raising to a yell. “Are you even thinking, B? All your other safe-houses are compromised - you’re bringing danger right to our doorstep! You’re bringing danger right to the kid!”

Hal turned to Barry, whispering quietly. “Kid? What kid?”

The door was pushed open a little more as a second figure joined the first at the entrance. A very tiny figure.

A child.

“Jayjay?” She asked, looking up at the teen with loving eyes. “Why are you yelling?”

Ollie stepped forward, frowning. “Lian? What on earth are you doing here? Where’s Roy?”
The teen turned his glare on him, kneeling down to be on eye-level with the kid - Lian. “Hey Kiddo,” his tone immediately softened. “Don’t worry, your Uncle Ollie just brought some of his friends to say hi. They’ll be going soon.” That last bit was directed pointedly at the league.

Lian did an adorable imitation of Jason’s frown. “Is my mommy with them?”

She said it with such longing that it broke several leaguer’s hearts in two.

“Is who’s mommy with who, now?” A familiar redhead appeared next to the others. Roy Harper, also known as Red Arrow. Lian’s father.

Roy scanned the group quickly, his eyes landing on Ollie and Dinah. He placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well, isn’t this a surprise…I’m guessing you couldn't've called ahead?”

He scooped up his daughter into his arms, kissing the top of her head.

Dinah smiled softly, turning to him. “Roy? Why are you here? And who’s your friend with the guns over there?” She gestured towards Jason, standing alert and still glaring at Bruce.

Before any of them could answer, another voice called from inside the house. “Red Him? People outside?”

Superman’s eyes widened.

Jason didn’t take his eyes off the league. “Yeah, Biz. Go find Arty for me, will you?”

The voice hesitated. “They need killing?”

Various hands gripped their weapons tighter. The teen smirked.

“No, they were just heading out.”

Bruce reached out to place a hand on Jason’s arm, then thought better of it. “Please, Jay? I can promise that we were not followed. We just need a little bit of time, then we’ll return to the Watch Tower.”
The voice from inside the house perked up. “Justice League here?”

“Yeah.” Roy confirmed.

“They’re not staying.” Jason repeated.

The voice ignored him, sounding cheerful. “Family Reunion! Red thems have fun!”

Jason sighed. Lian giggled excitedly.

“Artemis,” Jason called, defeated. “We have guests.”

Chapter Text

Jason wanted to smash his head against the table, but with the number of leaguers crowding around it he didn’t even have the room. Why him? Why can’t the gods grant him one single moment of peace?

No Roy, he wasn’t being ‘dramatic’, someone up on Mount Olympus definitely had out for him.

“So…your name is Jacob, was it?” Jason realized one of the goody-two-shoes heroes was trying to talk to him. He glanced over at the person standing awkwardly beside him, twisting a ring around his finger. Green Lantern. Great.

“It’s Jason.” He huffed.

The lantern shrugged smugly. “I was pretty close, though, right?”

An idea popped into his head…Jason knew all of their secret identities, didn’t he? He forced himself to keep a straight face. “Not really…getting names correct is very important, don’t you think, Hal?”

Hal Jordan froze, his mouth open. Jason patted his arm before heaving himself away from the wall he was leaning on and striding into the middle of the room. Best get this over with.

“Helloooo Justice League!” He could see Artemis roll her eyes at the bravado he forced into his voice.

“Since it looks like, at no choice of my own, you will be staying with us for the time being, I thought I’d make my grandfather proud and introduce myself properly.” Alfred was probably muttering all the way in Wayne Manor. “My name is Jason Todd, very not pleased to meet you all - except you, Diana, it’s wonderful to see you again. You’ve all met Lian, the queen of the house, and the scrawny redhead over there is her father, Roy Harper.”

Roy scoffed. “Thanks, Jay.”

Good. No one picked up on the fact that his name was also engraved on a headstone in Gotham Cemetery. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?

Artemis stepped out from where she was watching from the hallway door. “I’m Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, hope you people get out of my house as fast as humanly possible.”

“Me am Bizarro.”

Artemis smirked. “Yeah you are, Buddy.” Bizarro beamed at her.

Clearing his throat, Aquaman smiled politely. “Well, quite the team you’ve got here, friends-”

“We’re not finished yet.” Jason cut him off.

Bruce frowned slightly. “Who else haven’t you introduced?”

Huh. We haven’t seen each other since Kori re-joined the team.

“Oh, that right, you’re yet to meet one of our founding members…can I get a drumroll please?” Roy crowed.

Bizarro did a drumroll - thankfully, it was plenty loud enough for everyone.

“Ladies and Gents and Fishpeople of the Justice League, I now proudly present…Ms. KORI ANDERS!”

Kori took that as her sign to dramatically float in, landing on top of the coffee table and bowing with an infectious grin. Jason and Roy clapped.

“That’s right, folks, we’ve got the one and only Tamaranean princess in our club!”

Ollie gave Roy a bemused expression, which Roy returned by flipping him off. At least he shielded Lian’s eyes first.

J’onn turned to Artemis, likely identifying her as the only sane one in this conversation. (Jokes on him, it’s actually Bizarro.) “Am I correct in assuming that you all have hero personas alongside your civilian identities? I have met Red Arrow and Starfire before, but not the rest of you.”

Jason snorted. “Thanks for not snooping in our minds, Mr. Manhunter.”

J’onn nodded, gracefully ignoring the title Jason gave him. “Of course. I would not invade your privacy without asking.”

“You are currently standing in our private living room uninvited.” Kori pointed out.

Bruce pinched his forehead, muttering something under his breath. Jason hoped it was a prayer to Alfred for his sanity.

Jason nudged Kori’s side playfully. She smiled at him. “Anyway, that was going to be the second part of our introductions, J’onn. I’m also known as the Red Hood.”

The room exploded. Supes gave Jason a knowing smile as everyone turned to Batman, outraged.

“Are you kidding, Batsy? He’s on the top of the FBI’S most wanted list! The Top!”

“Did you forget he’s a crime-lord?”

“Ex-crime lord.” Jason heard Roy mutter. Bizarro placed a comforting hand on the archer’s shoulder.

“His file said he cut off eight people’s HEADS, Bruce!”

Bruce opened his mouth to, what, explain? Argue? Before he could speak, however, Artemis strode into the center of the room to stand next to Jason and Kori.

“Alright, everybody needs to shut the hell up!” The room fell silent.

“Good. Now, to answer your questions.” She stared down each and every leaguer in the room, one by one. All except Wonder Woman - Artemis was terrifying, but even she had her limits when it came to her old mentor.

“Yes. Red Hood has killed people. So have I. That’s what this is for.” With a motion of her hand, she summoned her giant greataxe, the metal shining dangerously in the afternoon sun. Batman tensed, but begrudgingly relaxed once Artemis waved the weapon away again.

The amazon drew a breath. “Yes, Red Arrow has killed people. Bizarro, though he makes a point not to now, has killed people. Starfire has definitely killed people - we are called the Outlaws for a reason. We are not heroes, and we are not villains. We are the gray line between protecting the people you won’t and avenging the people you refuse to…Including ourselves. So, yeah, we are not the good guys, but Batman trusts us, and right now, you don't have a lot of options. I think the best thing for you to do is shut up, sit down, and accept our help.”

And that, folks, was why he loved Artemis.

Wonder Woman grinned. “I’m glad to see you haven’t lost the warrior’s spirit, Artemis of Bana-Mighdall.”

And that was why he loved Wonder Woman.

Artemis's face softened, but she wasn’t finished yet. Jason knew that resolve anywhere.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. Firstly, anyone who needs medical attention is going to line up around the table in order from most to least pressing. Biz and any of you who are able to help will be treating them. We have a med-kit somewhere in this house, last time I checked. Secondly, nobody touches anything. We just finished un-childproofing the house when Lian turned 6, I would hate to have to redo it. Are we clear?”

There was a quiet cascade of ‘yes’ from around the room, most of them annoyed at being bossed around by a non-league member. Jason smirked inwardly. Artemis was going to have fun with them in the next couple of days. He couldn't wait to see B’s expression when he was yelled at by the amazon.

Artemis turned to exit the room, but hesitated for a second. “Oh, and thirdly. Batman…Superman…Green Arrow.” She locked eyes with each in turn. “If your ex-partners tell you to back off, you leave them alone. Or we will have a problem, and though you may have the numbers, you don’t want to know what happens when an Outlaw defends their own.”

Hal’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

“No.” Kori called from where she was floating slightly above the coffee table. “It’s a warning.”

Chapter Text

ROY’S POV

The league, with Bizarro’s everlasting patience, got themselves patched up. Lian ran around the whole time, singing a Tamaranean nursery-rhyme that Kori had taught her and ‘helping’ Roy find as many mattresses as they could to place on the living room floor for the Justice League.

They found three.

Roy sighed, turning to his still-singing daughter. “Hey, sweetheart, do you want to come help daddy ask the neighbours for more mattresses?”

Lian, ever excitable, squealed with joy at the prospect of such a trip. Himself, not so much. Their neighbours were nice enough (Kori insisted they take over cookies to introduce themselves when they first moved in) and although Roy got the feeling they didn’t like him that much, they loved seeing Lian. And Jason - for some reason, the ex-crime lord was surprisingly good with the elderly couple, engaging them in discussion over Shakespeare and Jane Austen and even volunteering to help them with the gardening. Roy blamed Alfred; that man was too good for this world…and the baking that he sent over occasionally (don’t ask how he got their address) made Roy question if he died and made it into heaven after all.

He was no Jason Todd, old people extraordinaire, but with Lian’s cuteness on his side was confident in his chances.

The door swung open.

“Hi Mrs. Rodalfory, it’s good to see you.” Roy mustered up his normal person voice, the one that hadn’t been to space and back multiple times with his Alien friend and fought crime at night with a bow and arrow in a red suit.

The old woman smiled at Lian, barely sparing him a second glance. “Good to see you lot are back in town - I’ve been missing the little one’s tea parties.”

He nudged Lian’s back ever so subtly. C’mon, kiddo, do your magic.

She got the message, stepping forward to hug Mrs. Rodalfory with her tiny 6-year-old arms. “Hi!” she giggled. The old lady’s eyes soften to a fond glow. His daughter tended to have that effect on people.

“What can I do for you today, Lian?”

“There are some people staying at our house and we need more matte…matree…”

“Mattresses?” Mrs. Rodalfory asked patiently.

Lian rewarded her with a toothy grin. “Yes!”

Mrs. Rodalfory looked at Roy questionly. He summoned his best normal dad smile, shrugging.

“The…uh…the inlaws are in town without giving us time to prepare. You know how it is.”

She smiled. “That I do. Let me see what I can find for you.”

By the time they carted two out of the four borrowed mattresses they had scored (you try carrying four mattresses at once, see how you like it) back to the cabin, Lian had bargained her way into three scoops of ice-cream for dessert - the kid deserved it, to be honest. She even held the door for him as he slipped inside the house with as much stealth as he could muster hauling two twin-sized mattresses with him. He made it past the entryway…

And straight into Oliver Queen.

Yay.

“Oh, uh, fancy running into you here, Roy. Literally.” Ollie gave one of those rich-people chuckles that annoyed the hell out of Roy - he used to have to hear them all day when Ollie dragged him to one of his galas. At least that had stopped when he was finally kicked out.

He rolled his eyes. “Hi, Ollie.”

Awkward silence, the kind only him and his old mentor were able to generate - Roy wasn’t fully convinced it wasn’t some kind of sorcery.

Ollie glanced down at the mattresses now (thankfully) resting by Roy’s side. “You…need some help with those.”

“Actually, I was just about to go grab the rest from outside.” Anything to get him out of this conversation.

“I’ll come with you. Help you carry stuff.”

He gritted his teeth. “Sounds great.”

The pair, accompanied by Lian, stepped outside again, Roy leading the way to where he left the other mattresses.

“So…” Ollie began. Roy groaned inwardly - the last thing he wanted right now was more mentor-ex-protegeè bonding time.

“I, um, am glad you joined this team. Even if the Amazon is more than a little terrifying.” He went to clap Roy on the back, something he used to do almost every patrol back when he was still Speedy, but clearly thought better of it.

“Really?” He forced every bit of childish hopefulness out of his tone, lathering on his trademark sarcasm instead.

Ollie rolled his eyes, almost a mirror image for how Roy had done it a minute ago. “Yes, really. It’s better than you being out on your own, that’s for sure.”

Roy prickled defensively. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Roy.”

He opened his mouth to snap back a scathing retort, but was stopped by Lian tugging on his sleeve, her eyes wide.
“Daddy? Why are you angry?”

Great. Look at him go, father of the year.

He bent down to get to her eye level. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, sweetheart. I’m not really angry, just…nervous.” Without meaning to, he glanced up at Oliver, who quickly looked away.

Lian frowned, at perfect imitation of her mother’s. “Are you nervous ‘cause of the people in the house?”

What was Jason always telling him? That these small moments can change a lot in how kids perceive the world? (No pressure.)

“It’s not because of anything they did, sweetheart. I’m still getting used to having more people in the house, that’s all. You don’t have to be nervous around them.”

But he did. Always be alert - first rule of Green Arrow’s training.

Ollie smiled at her. “Hey Kiddo, why don’t you help your daddy out by going inside and getting some pillows from…wherever you keep your pillows, okay?”

Lian beamed, happy at being given a job to do. She loved to feel like she was helping, even if her help was more of a hinderrance sometimes. “Okay!”

She ran off towards the cabin, Roy and Ollie watching her go.

“You’ve got a good kid there.”

“I know.” Roy started walking back to the house.

“Roy, gimme a sec.” Ollie called.

He hesitated, then hated himself for hesitating. Why should he listen to the man that hurt him in so many ways?

Ollie caught up to him, fiddling with the hem of his green cloak.

“Roy, I came out here to say...say I’m really sorry for how things went down. Between us.”

Roy scoffed. “Oh, are you? And it only took you how many years to come to that realisation?”

Ollie winced. “I suppose that’s fair.”

A flash of a memory crossed Roy’s mind; a younger him, screaming at Ollie to just leave him alone and stop trying to interfere with his choices. Choices that were probably going to get him killed. Not that he cared back then.

“I guess,” He halted, gathered his thoughts, and pressed forward. Just like Bizarro taught him. “I guess it wasn’t all your fault. I was pretty bad too.”

Was that? Was that pride, shining in his mentor’s eyes?

“We both were. But I was the adult. I was meant to take care of you more than I did.”

Roy’s fist clenched. “You kicked me out, Ollie. Like I never really mattered to you in the first place. You didn’t take care of me at all.”

Ollie looked like he was about to yell, then stopped himself. Roy guessed he had Dinah to thank for that. Although, to be fair, he needed his share of anger management classes from the Outlaws.

“I know. And I will never be able to fix what I’ve done to our relationship, will I?”

“No. This isn’t something we can just wave away.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can’t.”

They walked in silence for a moment. Roy resisted the urge to fidget with something.

Ollie took a breath, staring straight ahead at the cabin. “You pulled through because of the kid, didn’t you?”
Roy’s own breath hitched. “Not because of her. For her. Everything is for her.”

Ollie nodded. “It was like that with you. And Artemis. There is not a lot I wouldn't've done to keep you both safe.”

“We can’t fix this, remember?”

“Right. You’re right.”

The older archer glanced up at the dark clouds forming above them. “It’s gonna rain pretty soon.”

Sure enough, Roy felt a drop of water land on his head. Then a second. Within a minute, it was an all out downpour. They both stood there, letting themselves be soaked through. Neither of them particularly cared.

Suddenly, Roy’s mind clicked. “The mattresses!”

Ollie swore, and the two of them took off at a run towards the two mattresses lying on the grass behind them, getting drenched.

He went to grab the left one, assuming they were going to drag them in one each, but Ollie stopped him.

“We stack them - we’ll work better as a team than by ourselves!”

Roy nodded, falling back into the well-oiled routine of Speedy and Green Arrow - receiving orders and executing them. Together, ex-mentor and ex-protege dragged their bounty inside the dry house, shoulder-slamming the door open at the same time as one another in their rush to get in. They dropped the stupidly-heavy mattresses onto the wooden entryway floor.

Ollie, without thinking twice this time, clapped Roy on the back in a job well done. Roy grinned in spite of himself.

“We can’t fix this.” he reminded Ollie.

“No, we can’t.” the other archer agreed.

They paused, staring at the wet floor, water dripping from their hair onto their necks.

Ollie glanced at him, his expression a mix of things Roy didn’t want to try and pull apart right now. “Just…call if you need a hand, okay?”

Normally, Roy would’ve snapped back, staging how little he needed and wanted Oliver’s help. But this time, he just took a little breath and said “Okay.”

Ollie turned to go.

“Wait. Don’t be afraid to call if you need some more bow-strength. You’re not exactly getting younger, old man.”

His ex-mentor snorted, but nodded in acceptance of Roy’s offer.

“Take care of yourself, Ollie.”

Ollie smiled, in a bittersweet sort of way. “You too, Roy.”

Roy walked down the hall, leaving Oliver standing there with both mattresses and a soaked floor to explain to Artemis. He didn’t need to look back to know that Ollie was standing there, a rare contemplative expression on his face, still smiling slightly.

Come to think of it, so was Roy.

Much later, after Aquaman had sighed and drawn the water away from both archers without a word, when Roy was lying on his bed with Lian snuggled to his chest, both warm and dry, he realized felt a little bit less nervous.

Chapter Text

ARTEMIS’S POV

Her house was full of people who were effectively strangers to Artemis.

Strangers that could turn on them any moment now, but, more importantly, strangers with the terrifying potential to hurt her Outlaws. Which led Artemis to where she was now, firmly planted in the door frame that separated the League-infested living room from their own bedrooms. Jason had put in an admirable effort to even be in the same house as his father, but about five minutes ago, he had nodded subtly to her and slunk off into his room, the door clicking shut behind him. And, to make matters infinitely worse, Bruce looked like he was going to follow his wayward son, to, Zeus-forbid, try and talk to him.

So, naturally, Artemis was standing guard, not even attempting to hide the obvious glare she was sending Bruce’s way. If Artemis had anything to say about it, Jason would never have to speak to his father again, and although she knew that he wouldn’t escape that easily, she could at least make sure that when that conversation did happen, it was going to be on Jason’s own terms.

Sometime later, she watched Roy disappear outside with Lian, saying something about finding more bedding for our unexpected…guests. Artemis made sure Oliver met her glare before watching him walk over to my teammate, but she held back her instinct of shoving him against the nearest wall and making sure he knew exactly what would happen if he hurt Roy again - preferably with the help of her axe in his face. Roy has said many times that he wants to fight his own battles, like the rest of her oh-so-stubborn group. Asking for help, especially when it comes to our mentors, is not one of their strong suits. It took Jason nearly four months just to admit to them that he was the second Robin, and then he ran off to some foreign country or another for a whole month without so much as a note saying where he was going.

Not like Artemis is any better, though. She had slept with her axe in my hand when she first joined the team, with her back pressed to the closest tree - the blatant trust issues she used to (and still did) possess weren’t exactly hidden…

It took the Outlaws a long time to reach the level of…whatever they’ve got going on right now. It wasn’t easy going, seeing as their mentors didn’t instil much faith of trust in them, but there came a point where she realized that she thought of this weird, very-in-need-of-therapy, slightly murderous team as a second family.

Maybe even better than her first one.

Artemis had watched as the others reached that realization too. Roy introduced the group to Lian, Jason stopped hiding his nightmares, Bizarro started feeling safe enough to disagree with them without fear of punishment, and Kori tentatively told them the painful stories of her and her sister. It felt - for a lack of semi-intelligent words - right.

It felt right to bicker with Jason, felt right to trade tales of Themyscira with Kori, and it felt right to end the day in one massive pile curled up next to the fire.

This family felt right, and there was no way in Hades she was letting the ‘justice’ league take any of that away.

So if she happened to be avoiding a certain Wonder Woman, who could blame her? Artemis didn’t want to talk to Diana, Diana didn’t want to talk to Artemis.

They didn't talk to each other. Problem solved.

Expect she could tell that Superman was about five seconds away from flying through their roof if he and Biazrro kept up the awkward glancing at each other, and Artemis really didn’t want to have to explain to the neighbours why Metropolis’s resident boy scout was smashing out of their cosy log-cabin in yet another oh-god-I’m-not-ready-to-be-a-father panic™.

Normally that would mean Artemis is up, but before she can stride over to the nervous Kryptonian, Martian Manhunter appears behind him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Huh. It was weird to have someone else to deal with that kind of stuff. I mean, she’s not the mom friend of the group or anything (that role is reserved for Bizarro, and Bizarro only) and, honestly, she’s not very suited to the ‘whole talking about our feelings thing’ but for some reason, it always falls to her to keep everyone holding it together.

Sure, Jason does a lot of the inspiring leader stuff…on the days where he’s not stuck in a relentless torment of crowbars and memories. Sometimes, though, he’s simply a silent, deadly foe and an angry, hurting, ally. The Lazarus pit (can you fight a pit of ancient magic water? She kinda wanna fight the magic water) still has its claws wrapped around his mind, and he has a plethora of other issues on top of that to deal with.

And Bizarro would be great at that, if he could translate the thoughts in his mind into more than a few simple words at a time. Artemis knows he hates not being able to help as best as he can, either, but what else can they do?

It’s just…always been her job.

It scares her more than a little. How easily she could mess it up. She’s no Dinah Lance - Artemis doesn't have a degree, or training, or practically any knowledge of the topic at all. She’s simply flying blind with the love for my friends and hopefully enough fiery determination to keep all fighting another day.

Her breathing is more than a little ragged now. Gods above, Artemis, keep it together.

It’s not all her job, she reminded herself. Roy has Lian, and he’s never gonna give up with her to take care of.

Kori’s still on good terms with Nightwing and the rest of his team…and Bizarro is getting closer with Superboy…she thinks.

And Jason…well, Batman hasn’t tried to put him in Arkham for a good couple of years, she guessed. That's technically an improvement. And Artemis herself has this really good coping technique called ‘put every negative emotion she feels into a bottle and then one day she’ll die.’

It’s been working wonders so far.

Okay, so maybe they weren’t doing fantastically in the not-having-a-breakdown-every-week category, but they were excelling in the ‘murdering the forces of evil’ section! Well, they had been, but then they decided to take a nice, relaxing vacation in their cosy little middle-of-nowhere cabin.

Which was going great, until…about half an hour ago.

Speaking of the children in the house (and no, Artemis did not mean Lian) Flash has been making puppy-dog eyes at her for the past five minutes, and Artemis was pretty sure she knew what he wanted. She sighed.

“Alright, listen up!” All eyes turned to Artemis once more as she marched towards the fridge (currently covered in Lian’s crayon drawings of a certain team of Outlaws labelled ‘my family.’)

Flash watched her hopefully.

“So, in terms of food, we have no food.” She swung the fridge door open to reveal…a bottle of ketchup, two loose pieces of bread lying sadly on the bottom shelf, and a singular onion. (Shopping is hard when only one of your members isn’t a clone of a famous superhero, legally dead, an alien, or part of a race of long forgotten female warriors.) (And Roy sucked at shopping.)

As you can clearly see, the Outlaws were a very normal, very functional, family.

Flash pouted, though Artemis caught the worry hidden in his expression. “I didn’t get a chance to refill my emergency snack pouch on the way here.” Right. Speedsters needed to eat. A lot.

The redhead glanced at Batman hopefully. “I don’t suppose you still have those protein bars in your utility belt, Basty?”

The dark knight shook his head. “Robin demanded I remove them. He disliked the taste.”

Jason rolled his eyes, which Batman oh-so-graciously pretended not to see.

“So you don’t have any food?” Barry asked, looking around at the leaguers. “No one has any food?”

He slumped down onto the couch dramatically. “This is how I die.”

Great. Just what Artemis needed. Gods above, the literal 6 year old was easier to deal with than these people.

Artemis ran through her options. Neither the aforementioned Aliens, clones and Amazons could go shopping in this small town without blowing both their, and the Justice League's cover, and Roy was still out Gods know where with Lian and Ollie, so that just left…

Jason sighs from where he was watching in the doorway for who knows how long. “I wanted to get out of the house anyway.”

Ignoring Batman’s emotionally ambiguous glance, he grabbed his keys (Bizarro insisted they were all kept in a dish by the door) and strode towards the shed/garage/weapons room next to the house. The sound of his motorbike roaring to life echoed through the room.

She and Kori exchanged a look - despite his valiant effort to try and hide it, they could both tell his hands were shaking under his gloves.

At least the Speedster wouldn’t die of starvation…one problem down - approximately 500 million more to go.

Artemis resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. This was going to be a long couple of days.

****
JASON’S POV

Jason’s breath was coming in short gasps, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen. His leather gloves were wrapped tightly around the handlebars of his bike, locked in a white-knuckle grip so tight he was worried he might crush the metal handles. The engine pumped out a constant stream of petrol, which was decidedly not helping with the waves of nausea that rolled across his body.

He knew as soon as he had woken up that morning that it was going to be a bad day today, and then to top it all off, Bruce just had to waltz up and threaten the fragile existence the Outlaws had managed to carve out for themselves here.

It was crazy to think that only this morning Jason was blissfully unaware of the torment that was about to arrive uninvented on his doorstep - a mere hour ago he was reading Shakespear in his room and listening to the sound of Lian and Kori having a tea party in the lounge.

But then again, Jason of all people knew how much could change in a few hours. His whole body shook involuntarily at the reminder.

No, he told himself firmly. We are not going there.

He had needed to get out of that house, before the leaguers and the memories their presence dragged to the surface ruined the faint bravado he was still hiding behind, and now he was here, huddled on his motorbike and shaking at the thought of him.

Jason’s breath quickly spiralled into hyperventilation, and he used whatever remaining sense he had left to sharply veer off the road and clumsily press the killswitch on his bike. There was no way he trusted himself to drive right now.

He slumped down into the dry, dead grass, knees curled up to his chest. He didn’t know how long he sat there, the stifling silence only broken by the occasional sound of distant traffic miles away. Eventually he pushed himself up off the ground and numbly continued his drive to the nearby town.

He blindly shoved groceries into his arms and paid, trying not to think about just how much this eerie numbness reminded him wandering Gotham aimlessly after he came back.

It was honestly a miracle he made it back to the house without crashing with how much his legs were shaking.

Nothing more than a zombie trying desperately to convince himself he was still alive.

****
ARTEMIS’S POV

Jason’s eyes were glassy and defocused by the time he slid through the front door, stopping only to drop the bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter before retreating to his room. Artemis watched as the Justice League's concerned and, in some cases, slightly wary gazes followed him across the room, only awkwardly turning away once he disappeared from view.

Artemis heard heavy footsteps stomp up the stairs, and the sound of a trapdoor creaking open echoed down the hall. Her stomach sank - Jason only ever entered the attic when he was lost in a storm of memories.

The admittingly few items from his childhood that he got out of Wayne Manor were all kept in there.

Along with a certain Robin mask that went suspiciously missing from its memorial case in the Batcave a few years ago.

Artemis’s heart ached for her friend.

Oh, Jason.

She glanced at the living room full of leaguers.

Hang in there.

Chapter Text

Bruce’s POV

By the time the sky was beginning to grow dark, Bruce had completed three perimeter sweeps of the cabin and its exterior, and one all the way around the property boundary. Each time he strode back into the living room after finding nothing out of the ordinary outside, he caught Clark and Diana sending a concerned glance his way.

Like they expected Bruce to relax while he was in an enclosed space with several dangerous and unpredictable self proclaimed ‘anti-heroes.’

When he was in an enclosed space with his son.

Bruce didn’t pretend that he didn’t see the way the Outlaws watched him with wary glints in their eyes, or how Clark looked like he was barely stopping himself from placing a restraining hand on Bruce’s shoulder when Jason - The Red Hood - stumbled past the Leaguers and disappeared further into the house.

But that was not something he could afford to deal with right now. Keeping his team safe, and getting out of here as fast as he possibly could, were much higher on his priority list than reassuring his mother hen of a best friend, or trying to convince the actual threats in the room that he wasn’t going to hurt their leader. And until that changed, it was Batman that had to be making decisions, regardless of Bruce Wayne’s lingering sentimentality.

Bruce saw the still slightly damp mattresses being dragged out from somewhere, along with whatever assorted blankets and pillows they could scrounge up, but he didn’t really register it until Diana gracefully curled up on the sheets, and Clark smiled fondly, pulling of his trademark red cape and throwing it around her. The kryptonian glanced up at Bruce, gesturing to the space beside him and Diana. When Bruce didn’t move to join them, he let out a barely perceptible sigh.

“You really planning on lurking in the corner all night, B?”

Bruce scowled. “One of us has to remain vigilant. From the rest of your reactions, it seems it's going to have to be me.”

God forbid he could count on the Justice League to be anything even remotely resembling alertness in unknown territory.

“What are you so afraid of happening, Bats?” Diana murmured from her place under Clark’s cape.

“The Outlaws are variables we as a League are not prepared for. They are dangerous. Red Hood alone has taken out half a dozen of Gotham’s strongest mafia -”

Diana cut him off. “That is your son you are talking about.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that, Wonderwoman.”

Diana snorted, closing her eyes. Bruce glared at Clark, ignoring his friend’s guilty expression until he too surrendered to sleep, leaving Bruce alone in the shadows of his son's living room.

—----------------------------------------------—

ROY’S POV

The rest of the Outlaws were tense with anxiety as Roy herded Lian to bed from where she was drawing what he was sure were very artistic scribbles on Green Lantern’s arm, and that tension only swelled as the night wore on.

They all knew why.

…Jason’s nightmares weren’t anything out of the ordinary for them - they would hardly be a team if they weren’t at least a little bit familiar with each of the other demons, and someone woke up screaming more nights than not nowadays. They were used to watching their friends eyes very closely afterwards, and at the first sight of them glowing green with the remnants of the Lazarus Pit still haunting his mind, Bizarro was ready to trap him in a comforting, but tight hug.

If there was one thing that Roy had learned about Jason’s over their many years of friendship, and recently, the few years of more, it was that Jason was his scariest when he was scared.

Not that any of the Outlaws were scared of him, not really. It was hard to be, once you’ve woken up to him humming softly as he makes breakfast while his eyes were glued to a Jane Austen novel in his other hand, or when he crouched down to let Lian place a clumsily-tied flower crown on his head.

But the League being here complicated things, and Bruce wasn’t exactly making it easier.

Roy’s blood boiled when he stared at the Bat and remembered just how many times Jason woke up crying his father’s name in fear.

Needless to say, people were on edge as Roy slipped into his room. Well, it was technically his room - he, Jason and Kori ended up in a pile there more often than they slept in their own rooms. Jason was conspicuously absent, and Roy felt a helpless pang of worry for his best friend run through him.

—----------------------------------------------—

It was hardly a surprise when the screaming started.

A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table told him it was just after 2 in the morning. Roy heard Kori mutter what was probably a curse in Tamarenean, and Roy followed her out of the room, the wooden door covered in photos of Lian and the team slamming shut behind them.

Artemis was already standing outside of Jason’s room, and, to Roy’s dismay, so was Clark, Diana, Ollie, and Arthur. A second glance told him that Bruce was also there, watching from the shadows of the hallway. Great. No, really, this was fantastic. It’s not like this was exactly what Roy was trying to avoid ever since the Justice League showed up on their doorstep.

Roy was about two seconds and a false concerned look from one of the people who had stood by and let Jason’s life be destroyed away from sending the Leaguers out into the night at arrowpoint - or, at least, somewhere that wasn’t right outside his panicked friend’s bedroom. He was interrupted, however, by another terrified scream from Jason.

Screw the damn Leaugers, Roy was going to help his friend, and they could stand there and listen the whole time if they wanted to. Jason needed him now, and Roy was not going to leave him at the mercy of his night terrors.

The door creaked open easily - that was a deal they had made as a team when they first bought the cabin - no one locks their doors if they’re panicked or angry. Roy had regretted agreeing to the deal more than a few times over, mostly when it was drawing closer to the time of year that Ollie had first kicked him out, and his chest felt like it might burst from all the anger and loathing swelling inside it, but right now, he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly greatful for the fact that Jason’s door wasn’t locked with the sturdy iron bolt they all had.

The room was dark when he entered, the dim light from the hallway creating strange shadows on the walls. The bed was in a state, with blankets and pillows strewn all across it, like someone had woken up suddenly and fought to break free of the sheets wrapped around them.
On the bedside table, lying next to a small framed photo of the five of them grinning at the camera, sopping wet and shivering from an ill-fated snowball fight, was one of the guns Roy pretended not to know Jason kept tucked under his pillow most nights. It stood out starkly against the otherwise normal room, like a tiny black void, drawing your gaze towards its terrible power.

Roy barely spent a second glance taking in the details of the room, however, and almost immediately his eyes landed on Jason. His stomach sank when he realised where his friend was - curled up on the cold, hard floor at the foot of the bed, with his knees drawn tightly to his chest and his hands gripping his hair with gleaming white knuckles.

Roy knelt down at his friend’s side, not caring whether the door swung shut behind him or stayed lodged open. It was only then that heard what Jason was muttering between his screams.

Please.

Please, I’ll do anything.

I’ll be a better son.

Anything.

Just don’t let him get me.

Don’t put me in there with Him.

Please.

—----------------------------------------------—

JASON’S POV

It was dark.

He wasn’t sure where ‘it’ was.

He had been in lots of dark places.

An alley.

A warehouse.

A coffin.

All he really knew was that it was dark and he was so very afraid.

That made sense. He had lived most of his years riddled with those same foggy waves of confusion, not really knowing where or who he was, or what he was afraid of, but remembering enough to know that whatever it was, it was something he should be running from.

But he hadn’t been so afraid in quite a while, hadn’t he?

He had begun to let his defenses down, letting that silent killer of ‘safety’ come slinking into the far corners of his mind. He had begun to feel safe, and now this was his punishment.

He didn’t know what he was so afraid of this time, but after so many years of that sheer, overwhelming terror at the hands of one goddamn man, his brain made an educated guess.

And it was dark.

If he strained his ears, could he hear the all too familiar sound of metal scratching and scraping along gore splattered concrete?

He knew he heard something, that’s for sure, and surely that terrible, haunting sound was the most likely candidate.

Was it too much to hope that he was dead, and that was why he was so confused?

Knowing him, it was. The sweet songs of death couldn’t sing to him for very long, even when he was choking on his own blood. Life always seemed to have a worst surprise waiting for him, when he was barely finished dragging himself back to some semblance of togetherness from the last thing that had him screaming his throat hoarse.

Was that what that sound was? Had he really become so accustomed to the sound of his own screaming that he didn’t even pay it any mind?

He was, wasn’t he? He was screaming, his terror etched into his voice as he cried out so loudly he couldn’t really hear it. He was screaming, and his lungs were filling with blood, and he was still choking as the timer slowly ticked down to zero, and he realised that there was no way he could protect himself from the agonizing heat that was sure to follow.

He was screaming, and his hands were clawing at dirt, heavy, foul-smelling dirt that tore into his fingers and left them bloody and raw as he dug himself six feet up and into the pouring rain that he could barely feel against his cold skin.

He was screaming, and he was begging, begging Bruce to kill the Joker or kill him, and he didn’t care which one it would be.

But it took that foolish boy until far too late to realise that wasn’t his father he was talking too, or even Bruce Wayne, the generous philanthropist. No, Jason was talking to The Batman, and he could beg and plead and scream all he wanted, but that man wouldn’t feel a thing.

And Jason was screaming, because there was not a single drop of remorse in Batman’s hands as he put a batarang blade through his throat. He couldn’t tell whether it was blood or tears that were blurring his vision, because his whole world was red, had been red since the moment he’d dug himself out of his own grave and found that the Joker was not in the damn ground with him.

Jason could feel his heartbeat in his throat, wild and fast like a cornered animal about to be put down.

Good. That was good.

He could feel something, even if it was the sound of his own terror.

The words started pouring from his mouth then, words he swore he would never say again. Please. Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything. Please.

He wasn’t sure who he was pleading with, but he knew that if he said it enough, begged enough, that they might just stop hurting him.

It never worked in the past, though, did it? Ever since he was a kid, crying to his mother to stay with him, to not take another dose, or for his father to not abandon him to the unforgiving streets, he had been pleading.

He had refused to plead when he was murdered. A tiny, traitorous part of him sort of wished that he did.

Maybe then he would’ve survived.

Who was he kidding?

He was never meant to make it past 16. It was simply some sick, twisted joke of the universe that had him still clinging onto a broken, shattered life.

And the universe just loved to joke, didn’t it?

He was lying on the floor in a warehouse, his lungs desperately gasping for air that was not there, as a crowbar smashed into him, again, and again, and again, and all the while He was laughing. That laughter haunted him, even now. In his quietest moments, he swore he could still hear Him, laughing away as Jason’s bones began to shatter.

He was in a warehouse, and the timer was ticking down, and Bruce wasn’t coming.

And worst of all? It was his own damn fault. His own stupidly, his own recklessness, everything everyone always liked to say was wrong with him -

Jason’s hand dug into his hair, into that little strip of shock-white that he hated looking at, a constant reminder that he was not meant to be alive.

His fingernails clawed into his scalp, a sharp, stinging anchor that whispered that he was still here, that he still had a body to feel pain.

He was still muttering pleas, his fingers wet with blood and his face wet with tears, still begging whoever was doing this to him to stop, please stop.

Deep down, he knew he was the only one doing this to himself, this time.

It didn’t make it hurt any less.

Distantly, he felt someone kneel down beside him.

He found himself wondering if they were there to finish the job.

Maybe Bruce had finally realised what a screw-up his second son was, and came to put an end to him before he could embarrass him anymore than he already had. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The bat-shaped scar on Jason’s neck ached.

He wanted his siblings.

He wanted his friends.

And he hated himself for it, but he wanted his goddamn father.

And then Roy was there, murmuring soft reassurances, and ever-so gently pulling his hands out of his hair. He was probably dripping blood onto the carpet.

He couldn’t bring himself to care, because he wasn’t in the alley, wasn’t in a coffin, and he wasn’t in the warehouse.

Slowly, the world came back into view, and with every detail, Jason’s heart sank in his chest a little more.

He was on the floor by his bed.

It was dark.

Roy was next to him, holding his wrists in a soft, yet firm grip.

Jason’s scalp was stinging.

And, worst of all, the door to his room was ajar, and outside it, he could see every single member of the Justice League.

Jason pressed his eyes shut again. He didn’t want to see.

—----------------------------------------------—

KORI’S POV

Whatever fitful bouts of sleep Kori might have been getting were interrupted by one of the worst sounds in the world, to her, at least - the sound of her friend screaming.

It was a distinctive scream, different from the grunts of pain he let out in the heat of battle, or the barked shouts of orders and plans amidst a hunt. The kind of cry she only heard when he was trapped in the memories of blood and panic, of graveyard dirt and wooden boxes and Jokers. Of the man who he once trusted enough to call his father.

Kori dreaded hearing that scream more than she dreaded a lot of things.

In an instant, she was outside Jason’s door, shoving her way past the strangers - the Leaguers - gathered there. Roy was already inside, and Bizarro was standing in the doorway, ready to wrap Jason in a comforting, and more importantly, restraining hug, should the need arise.

She hated that this ritual had become so familiar to them. Get to Jason. One person gets near him. Another gets any weapons in the room out. On and on it went, a checklist of tasks to carry out all the while their friend, their leader, was crying in terror.

Kori watched as Artemis disappeared into the room, as quiet as the 6 foot Amazonian could bear to be, and returned a moment later with the gun Jason kept under his pillow. That was something that Jason had asked them to do, ever since he told them about his time as Robin, and furthermore, the grip the Lazarus Pit still had on his mind sometimes.

All of them knew that it would eat Jason from the inside if he accidentally shot one of his friends in a Pit-fueled rage, so he made them promise not to let him be around any weapons when he was like this.

Jason’s screams began to turn into quiet sobs and pleas that broke Kori’s heart with Roy by his side, and she could just make out him choking out the words

“Too many people. They’re watching, Roy.”

Kori wanted to wrap him in her arms, holding him until the people that had made him sound so very small were gone, gone forever, but instead she turned to the Leaguers with a venom in her voice that she hadn’t used in many months, she practically snarled the order.

“Get out.”

She didn’t have to tell them twice. Silently, they filed back into the living room.

All expect one.

Kori stalked up to where Bruce was still poised in the shadows. Her heart was pounding in her chest, fury seeping through her waves like a drug.

She shoved an arm against his chest, leaning in nice and close, and although he was stronger than her, he stepped back into the wall.

Subtler hints clearly weren’t working on him - Kori decided it was time to say what she had been dying to say since Jason told her his story, his sturdy tone wavering with the pain that people had caused him.

That Bruce had caused him.

Kori kept her voice low, not wanting to send Jason spiralling into any more panic than he already was, but she hoped that the man in front of her understood that she would be roaring her words if she could.

“Look at me, Bat. Do I look like I was joking when I told you to get the hell out?”

Bruce’s gaze hardened, the same stubborn resolve that she had seen on Jason a hundred times setting in.

“My son is in there.”

“You do not get to call yourself his father.” Kori hissed. “Not after everything you’ve done. Not while I’m still here.”

Bruce was silent.

“Listen when I tell you this, because I’m only going to say it once. A father does not make his son back into a corner when he’s around, a father does not put a batarang through his son’s neck.”

The man before her inhaled sharply, and Kori’s fists clenched.

“Do you know who Jason is pleading with, in there?”

“The man who killed him. The man who killed my son.”

Kori shook her head, eyes glinting wildly. “No. My friend is pleading with you. I’ve lost count of the amount of nightmares he’s woken up from shouting your name. And the thing is, Bruce? He isn’t shouting your name because he wants you to save him. He’s shouting your name in fear. Fear of you.”

Bruce froze, and Kori leaned in closer, closing the gap between them, her voice a deadly whisper.

“So when I tell you to get out, what are you going to do?”

He didn’t reply. She didn’t expect him to. A few, long seconds passed, the rushing in Kori’s ears dying down to a steady pulse.

Then Bruce turned and stalked down the hall, into the living room.

Kori took a breath.

She had won.

For now.