Death’s Dove

by DeathOfTheChesireCat

Summary:

Jason Todd disappeared, gone, just vanished. Eight months later, he shows up on a crime alley camera, busted up with a baby in his arms. The pits have made him different this time, powers run through his blood. He can’t face his family, not yet, he needs a friend. He needs Roy

Or Jason gets kidnapped by the loa and has a baby he can’t face his family so he goes to Roy instead. Also Death made him an Angel and gave him powers and Roy is there to help every step of the way.

I suck at summaries I promise the actual fic is interesting at least I think so

Notes:

Um hi my name Cheshire and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing so please be nice
Criticism is always welcomed
Make sure to drink eat and sleep
Hope you enjoy!

WARRINGS of this chapter
Talk of forcing someone to have a child
Self worth issues
Postpartum depression
Thoughts of hurting one’s own baby
Please let me know if I missed any!

Chapter 1: It’s Raining, It’s Pouring

It’s raining tonight—common for Gotham—but something about tonight feels off.

Bruce gets the news first when Barbara asks to speak to him on a separate comm. Patrol is just ending. Her voice cuts through the line—sharp, calculated—but there's hesitation. Bruce hears it immediately. 

“Batman, I need a secure line… just you.” Damian, standing nearby, furrows his brows suspiciously. Bruce glances at him, then mouths: ‘Go home.’ Damian looks ready to argue, but the look Bruce gives him shuts it down. He huffs, turns, and jogs off toward Tim and Dick’s location, muttering under his breath.

Bruce watches until his son disappears from view, then turns back toward the city below.

“Robin’s gone. Go ahead, Oracle.” His voice is low, gruff. Something's wrong—he can feel it. “Bruce…” Barbara starts, then takes a shaky breath. “I think I located Jason on a camera feed. Crime Alley. But when I tried to follow him using other cams nearby, I lost him. Just—gone.”

Bruce stiffens.

Jason had disappeared eight months ago. One second, he was giving his final report. Then—nothing. No trace. Not even a body. At first, Bruce wasn’t concerned. Jason often needed space, especially after interacting with the family. (Something Bruce privately blamed himself for.)

Jason's relationship with everyone was still strained—better than it had been, but nowhere near healed, much better than when he first came back to Gotham but he was trying and everyone knew that and tried as Dick might, Jason still didn’t go by the manor often. He interacted with his siblings though he and Tim were starting to talk to each other more.

Even so Jason always makes sure to give updates to Barbra when he went quiet. Stephanie had joked about it once—“Why just her?”—and Jason had smirked and said, “Barbie would have my head if I didn’t.” After 5 days of not hearing from Jason Brabara had asked if someone would go check up on him, grumbling about kicking his ass for her as well for making her worried.

Dick—being the only one besides Damian who could show up to his apartment unannounced without getting a knife thrown at them— volunteered.

What Dick found was chaos.

Jason’s apartment was destroyed—broken dishes, shattered windows, furniture overturned, blood everywhere. Too much blood. Dick called in a panic, barely able to speak through the hyperventilating. Bruce, Tim, and Cass met him there. (Damian had demanded to come. Bruce said no.)

Jason’s Red Hood suit was still there along with his weapons. His favorite books were scattered around the apartment and his special edition of Pride and Prejudice was socked in a puddle of blood. That one was the one that Alfred gave him. It was definitely a struggle if the evidence was anything to go by. Nothing else however was left for clues.

The scene was worse in person. Red Hood’s gear was untouched. His weapons still in their compartments. His favorite books were scattered, and Alfred’s special edition Pride and Prejudice—the one he cherished—was soaked in a puddle of blood. Only Jason’s blood. No other DNA. No signs of a struggle beyond the wreckage. No trail. Like he’d just vanished into thin air.

Since then, they’ve searched constantly. Nothing. Everyone’s on edge. Last week, Damian slipped an unhealthy dose of melatonin into Dick and Tim’s drinks just to make them sleep. Thankfully it wasn’t lethal, but still—everyone’s cracking.

Bruce has spent months quietly fearing the worst. And now Barbara is telling him Jason might be back. “What was that?” Bruce asks, snapping back to the present. Barbara repeats herself. “If it was him… he didn’t look good. Dirty, baggy clothes. Long hair. Blood on his hands. More white in his hair than before. And…” she hesitates, “his eyes were glowing green in the dark.”

Bruce’s breath catches.

“Send the feed to the Cave. I’ll regroup with everyone there.” Barbara tells him that she already did. As Bruce fires off his grapple and disappears into the night, she leans back in her chair and exhales shakily. She didn’t tell Bruce about the tiny baby-sized bundle Jason had cradled in his arms.

…Meanwhile…

Jason wants to cry, wants to scream, wants the pain to go away. He also feels like laughing because this entire thing is so fucked. He’s sadly snapped out of his meltdown by a soft cry. He looks down. The source of all this bullshit. The mess he’s in. The reason he can’t disappear. A baby. Wrapped in a jade green blanket. Small—way too small. Talia had said it was fine. That it was just premature. “He’s strong,” she’d said. “You were born fighting too.”

 ‘He’ Jason corrects in his mind the baby’s a boy, his baby. The thought is almost enough to make Jason want to vomit and throw it and himself off a roof. 

No

It’s not the baby’s fault. Jason tells himself that again. Just like it hadn’t been Damian’s.

He exhales sharply, jaw clenched, eyes drifting back to the infant bundled in a too-thin blanket and sinks down onto the grimy alley pavement, back pressed against cold brick. The city’s wet. The rain is soaking through his clothes. But he doesn’t care

He doesn’t remember getting here—one second he was in Nanda Parbat, trying to make sense of whatever the hell that power was crawling under his skin, and the next… Gotham. Another cruel joke from the pit-tainted “magic” the League shoved into him. If that’s even what it is. It’s not like it came with instructions. Most of the time, it didn't do anything. Other times, it yanks him across the world like a puppet on a string apparently.

He presses the heel of one palm into his eye, the other arm still wrapped securely around the little shit. He wants to scream. Break something. Run. But instead, he looks at the baby again.

Still no name.

He can’t bring himself to give him one. Naming him would make it real. 

The kid has Jason’s eyes. The ones he used to have—before the pit. Bright blue, with a flicker of green near the iris. Freckles dance across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His skin’s pale—paler than Damian’s had been. And the hair, what little there is, is black. Soft. Slightly curly at the ends.

He shouldn’t even be alive.

He was born too early. Four months too early. Shouldn’t even be breathing on his own. But the League didn’t believe in incubators. They used pitwater, forced into his veins before his first breath. It kept him alive. Made sure everything inside developed, even if the outside hadn’t caught up yet.

Jason hates that it worked.

He hates all of this.

It makes his skin crawl. His body feels wrong. Every time he looks at the kid, he sees the hole carved into his own identity. Feels the dysphoria twist in his gut. Just like the little girl he used to be.

But still—he holds him.

Because it’s not the baby’s fault he reminds himself.

Even if it hurts like hell.

What will they think—everyone else—when they find out the Red Hood was just a trans man who couldn’t keep it in his pants?

Even if it wasn’t his choice.
Even if it was forced.
Even if he never wanted this.

Jason swallows hard, his throat burning, bile creeping up like it has every day since he found out. Since they took that from him too. His body, his agency, his future—stripped and repurposed like a weapon. Would they still call him their brother? Or would they look at him the way he sometimes catches himself in the mirror—like something broken. Something wrong.

His grip tightens around the bundle in his arms. The baby shifts, lets out a soft hiccupping breath, and Jason hates that the sound doesn’t make him recoil. Hates that he cares. Because caring means staying and  staying means facing it, all of it. He doesn’t know if he can.

He can't stay in Gotham.
No.He doesn’t want to face them—face Bruce. Not like this. Not now.He needs help. God, he needs help. But who?

Roy.

The name hits like a gasp of air after drowning.
Roy, who’s seen him at his worst. Roy, who never asked questions Jason wasn’t ready to answer.
Roy, who could look him in the eye and still see him—not a mistake, not a weapon, not a victim. Jason shifts the baby gently against his chest, rocking just enough to keep the kid quiet. He looks up at the sky, begging for whatever Ra did do him to get him to Star City, to Roy. Because if anyone can help him crawl out of this goddamn hole—
It’s Roy. And right now, Jason doesn’t need a mission. Doesn’t need vengeance. He needs a friend.

Jason shifts the baby gently against his chest, rocking just enough to keep the kid quiet. His eyes drift upward, toward the overcast sky.The rain slicks his face.His jaw clenches. "Come on..." he whispers to no one. To everything. "You work when you want, right? So work now." He closes his eyes, lets the fear rise, lets the need break open inside him like a wound. "Please—just get me to Roy. Star City. Anywhere but here."

There’s no wind.
No flash of light.
No warning.

Just a pull—violent, invisible, sudden.

Like something inside him snaps. Jason vanishes from the alley in an instant, swallowed by the same twisted force that’s been haunting him for months. The only sign he was ever there is a wet imprint in the shape of his boots—and a quickly fading echo of a baby’s soft, startled cry.

“My brave dove use my gift wisely for the time will come when you’ll learn how to fly”

 

Chapter 2: You’re as Beautiful as the Day I Lost You (Part 1)

Summary:

Jason shows up at Roy’s apartment, Roy’s confused but is willing to help his Jaybird however he can and Liam stays blissfully unaware of her Uncle Jayjay return.

Notes:

Roy’s here!!! I love him so much anyways I hope he not too ooc this Is Jason too quick to accept Roy’s help is he ooc as we’ll see this is why I need to do more research but anywho hope you enjoy! :3

Roy was having a goodish night so for Lian went down for bed fairly well. He took this whole week off to spend time with her and it was the best decision he made in a while. He was in the kitchen, washing leftover dishes when he heard it. A knock at the front door of his apartment at 9 pm, not suspicious at all. He set the dishes out to dry before grabbing a baseball bat, ya’know for no particular reason. He crept silently towards the door and unlock it before yanking it open bat ready.

Roy was having a goodish night so far. Lian went down for bed fairly well. He took this whole week off to spend time with her and it was the best decision he’d made in a while. He was in the kitchen, washing leftover dishes when he heard it.A knock at the front door of his apartment at 9 p.m, not suspicious at all.

He set the dishes out to dry before grabbing a baseball bat—ya’know, for no particular reason. He crept silently toward the door and unlocked it before yanking it open, bat raised.

He froze.

“Jay?”

Jason stood there, soaked to the bone, water dripping from his tangled hair, shoulders trembling. A blanket was clutched tight to his chest—green, too thin, wrapped around something small. Roy didn’t process it all at once. He was too busy trying to make sense of Jason’s eyes. Wide, glassy. Haunted.

“Where—“

“Can I come in?” Jason asked, voice hoarse, cracking at the edges.

Roy lowered the bat immediately. “Jesus—yeah, yeah, of course Jaybird.” He stepped aside and Jason stumbled in.

Jason didn’t say anything else. Just walked past him, feet heavy, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood. Roy shut the door, locking it behind him, and turned back just in time to see Jason slump down onto the couch, cradling the bundle like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

It took another few seconds for Roy’s brain to catch up.

“Is that a…?” he started, stepping closer.

Jason didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

Roy blinked. “Is it… yours?”

A pause. Jason’s jaw clenched. He nodded once. Barely. Roy hums, He was one of the few people who know Jason was trans besides Alfred, Bruce, and Dick. The possibility of the baby's existence had him wanting to punch someone.

Roy let out a slow, quiet breath. “Okay.” He sat down in the armchair across from the couch, keeping his voice gentle. “You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on, or do you want a minute?”

Another beat. Then Jason shifted the baby in his arms slightly, revealing just the tiniest, squishy face. Pale skin. Black hair. Blue-green eyes that fluttered open for half a second before closing again. A tiny Jason, like the happy kid he met before Jay died.

Roy swallowed. The kid was… impossibly small. Too small.

“They have a name?” Roy asked softly.

Jason didn’t answer.

Roy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Let’s start easy. Are you okay?”

Jason laughed—sharp and broken. “No.”

Roy nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright. I deserve that one. Stupid question.”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Jason said after a long pause, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay. They’d look at me different. I didn’t want to see it. Couldn’t.”

“Okay,” Roy said again. “You don’t have to explain everything tonight, man. You made it here. That’s enough for me.”

Jason’s lip twitched—somewhere between a grimace and a smile.

The baby let out a soft, wheezing cough and shifted in Jason’s arms. Roy immediately stood.

“Okay, I’m gonna grab some Extra clothes for you two. Dry ones. Liam’s old baby clothes for the baby. You two must be freezing.”

Roy hurried down the hallway, his heart still pounding as he tried to process everything. He’d known about Jason’s disappearance, of course. He’d been the first one Dick contacted when Jason had gone missing. For months, Roy had been running himself ragged, chasing leads, trying to track down anything that might point to where Jason had gone. And now, here Jason was—standing in his apartment, drenched and holding a baby.

Roy grabbed some dry clothes from the closet. He rummaged through Lian’s old things, grabbing a small bundle of baby clothes. He stared down at the tiny garments in his hands for a moment. It felt surreal, the whole situation, but this wasn’t the time to get lost in his own thoughts. He needed to help.

As he made his way back to the living room, the sight of Jason still hunched over, holding the baby like it was the only thing anchoring him, made something twist in Roy’s chest. Jason had always been good at hiding the cracks in his armor, but this? This was a different kind of broken.

"Okay," Roy said, breaking the silence, his voice low and calm as he sat back down on the couch, handing the clothes over to Jason. "Let’s get you both warm first."

Jason’s eyes flickered up to Roy, a flash of gratitude mixed with something else—something darker. He took the clothes but didn’t move immediately, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over the fabric. After a long moment, Jason slowly stood, a little wobbly at first, his gaze still fixed on the baby in his arms. Roy’s eyes softened. He could see the exhaustion weighing on Jason, the deep fatigue that came with far more than just being physically drained. Jason had never been great at asking for help, and Roy wasn’t sure if he had the strength to ask now. But Roy could relate. He’d been there too—having to carry someone else’s weight when you could barely hold up your own.

“I can get them dry and dressed," Roy said gently, trying to keep his voice light, "while you take a quick shower, if you want. After that, we can get you cleaned up too. Maybe even brush out that wild hair of yours.” He smirked playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Loving the new Cruella Deville vibes, by the way."

Jason didn’t laugh, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—somewhere between amusement and a quiet thank you. He shifted the baby gently in his arms, letting Roy take the tiny bundle without a word of protest.

Jason seemed hesitant at first, but finally, he nodded. "I... I should," he said, voice hoarse. "I can’t think straight right now."

Roy gave him a small, understanding nod. "Take your time. I’ll handle things here."

Jason made his way toward the bathroom, each step slow and deliberate, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Roy watched him disappear down the hallway before his attention shifted back to the baby in his arms.

The tiny bundle was even smaller than it had seemed moments ago. Roy's mind raced, trying to piece things together, but all he had were fragments—Jason’s ghostly expression, the haunted look in his eyes. And now this child, wrapped up in a blanket, barely clinging to life, it seemed.

“What the hell happened, Jay?” Roy whispered under his breath, glancing down at the baby again. “What kind of mess did you get yourself into?”

The baby’s weak, wheezing cough brought Roy back to reality, and he quickly moved to get a towel to wrap them up. As he worked to gently dry the kid-a boy, his thoughts kept drifting back to Jason—what he'd been through, what had broken him this time.

Roy finished drying the baby off and, after a few moments of careful thought, dressed them in some of Lian’s old baby clothes. They were far too big, but it was the best he could do for now.

When he finished, he placed the baby carefully in the little bassinet he’d set up near the couch and stepped back. See Oliver, he was right when he told him that keeping the thing would come in handy. He let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle on him like a heavy fog.

As he turned toward the kitchen, his eyes landed on the baby monitor—Lian was sound asleep in her room, completely oblivious to the storm that had just entered their home. 4 years olds am I right?

"Okay," Roy murmured to himself. "One thing at a time."

He stepped into the hallway, ready to check on Jason. The sound of running water from the bathroom told him the other man was following his suggestion, taking a moment for himself. Roy leaned against the doorframe—watching the little guy sleep, considering the way Jason had looked when he’d walked in—broken, but still here. Jason had made it to him.

Roy hoped that meant something.

The silence stretched on, but it was a different kind of silence now. Not one full of uncertainty, but one that held the promise of things moving forward, even if just a little at a time.

Notes:

I forgot to add Jason’s glowing, more in depth description about his powersand a description of his dirty ass clothes again, oh well I’ll edit later I don’t like this chapter for some reason lol

Chapter 3: You’re as Beautiful as the Day I Lost You (Part 2)

Notes:

I really wanna rewrite the plot but I’m too far in :(

By the time Jason walked out of the bathroom, it was 10:13. Roy, by that time, had set up the couch for him—an extra pillow and probably way too many blankets piled up on one end. The first thing Jason saw was Roy bent over a bassinet—most likely Lian’s old one—arms leaning on the side as he spoke quietly. The sight made Jason’s chest ache.

For the most part, Jason looked less pathetic than when he arrived—wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. They were slightly too big now, his body unable to stay in shape since he was taken. And of course, because of the pregnancy. He shook his head at the thought.
“What are you doing?” he asked, walking over to Roy and joining him while looking down at the kid, who was wide awake—yay. “Is he considered tiny for a four-month-old?” Jason asked, eyes flicking to Roy’s to catch a reaction—maybe disappointment—but he found none.

In fact, Roy turned to look at him directly and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, considering that if my timeline’s right, you didn’t have him full term, right?” he asked. Jason nodded. “So I’m not a doctor or anything, but I remember reading about how preemies are usually smaller than full-term babies. I mean, there are definitely other factors that can affect them, but to me, he looks fine—other than maybe slightly underweight, if anything.” He turned back toward the baby, who squealed when Roy made a face at him. 

Roy smirked and playfully knocked his shoulder against Jason’s.“I think you’ve been doing great, in my opinion,” he said, not taking his eyes off the baby.Jason grumbled in response. “You don’t know how I’ve been doing this parenting shit. You're just trying to make me feel better. Most of the time Talia and the doctors where the ones doing all that shit.”

Roy didn’t say anything at first. He just nodded slowly, eyes still on the baby. “So it was the League? I know Bruce had already asked Talia about you disappearing, she said she nor the League had nothing to do with it.” Roy said, eyes hard now. “That’s because Talia didn’t know until he was born, Ra was the one that planned it he didn’t want her involved.” Jason snorts 

Roy didn’t say anything at first. He just nodded slowly, eyes still on the baby. “So it was the League?” he asked, voice low now—too even to be calm. “Bruce already asked Talia when you disappeared. She said she—and the League—had nothing to do with it.”  Jason let out a sharp snort. “That’s because Talia didn’t know. Not until after he was born.” He crossed his arms, jaw clenching. “Ra’s was the one behind it. Said he didn’t want her involved, he knew she’d try and get me out.”

Roy’s eyes hardened. “Jesus, Jay…”

Jason shrugged like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t still eating him alive. “Guess he didn’t trust her to ‘finish the mission.’ Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.”

Silence settled again—thick and bitter.

Roy’s jaw ticked, his hands curling slightly at his sides. He’d always been quick to anger—especially when it came to people hurting the ones he loved—but this… this was beyond that. This was rage buried under disbelief, under grief, under helplessness. And Jason, standing there like he wasn’t still holding himself together by threadbare stitches, made it worse.

“I should’ve looked harder,” Roy muttered. “Should’ve known something was off. We all thought…” He trailed off.

Jason didn’t fill in the silence. He knew what Roy was thinking—they all thought Jason had gone off the grid again. That he was spiraling. That maybe this time, he didn’t want to be found.

And Jason hadn’t exactly given them reasons to think otherwise in the past.

“I did disappear,” Jason said after a beat, voice low. “Just not the way anyone thought.”

Roy looked at him, really looked. Jason's face was thinner, the shadows under his eyes deep, permanent. He still stood tall—reflexes built from years of training—but he looked tired. Not just physically. Bone-deep tired. The kind that sleep couldn’t fix.

“They raped you?” Roy asked finally.

Jason hesitated. “I…I don’t know to be honest. I wasn’t… lucid for most of it. They kept me under. Said it was for the baby's health, but it was just control. Talia didn’t even know until the last month. She got me out when she found out” He looked away, a bitter smile on his face. “I don’t feel anything when I look at him Roy.

Roy’s breath caught in his throat.

Not because he didn’t expect it—hell, this was Jason. He was honest, even when it gutted him. Maybe especially then. But hearing the words said out loud, in that dead-flat voice, hurt in a way Roy hadn’t been ready for.

Jason didn’t look at him. Just stood there, staring somewhere past the bassinet, looking at the kid like starting at him would make make go away. The baby was quiet now, cheek pressed against Jason’s chest, a tiny hand gripping at the fabric of his hoodie.

Roy stayed quiet for a beat, then said gently, “You don’t have to feel something just because you’re supposed to.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well… I’m the one who had him. Carried him. Bled for him. And now he’s here and I look at him and there’s just… nothing. No anger. No love. No connection. Just this… blank.”

He exhaled, harsh through his nose. “It makes me feel like I’m broken.”

Roy shook his head, stepping in close again. “You’re not broken, Jay. You’re traumatized.”

Jason didn’t flinch at the word, but he did go still—still in that way that meant the impact landed somewhere deep.

Roy went on, quieter now. “You didn’t get a chance to choose this. You weren’t given this kid in some beautiful moment of hope. They forced it on you. Took your body, took your agency, locked you inside your own skin. You don’t come out of that with a perfect Hallmark-dad reaction, man. That’s not failure. That’s survival.”

Jason swallowed, throat working. “I keep thinking… what if he knows? That I don’t feel it. That I’m just pretending.”

Roy looked at the baby, blue eyes locked on Jason as he fought sleep. “He knows you’re there. That’s what matters to him right now. Your heartbeat. Your voice. You holding him when he cries.” Roy paused. “The rest will come when it comes.”

“I’m afraid it won’t.” Jason’s voice cracked around the edges now. “I’m afraid he’s going to grow up and look at me the way I used to look at Willis.”

Roy’s stomach twisted. That name. That ghost.

“You’re not your dad,” Roy said firmly. “You’re not drunk and angry and hitting walls to scare the people around you. You’re not disappearing for days or blaming everyone else for your pain. You’re standing here, exhausted and hurting and trying. You trying Jay. That’s more than your dad ever gave you.”

Jason didn’t answer. His fingers twitch. The instinct was there, even if the feelings weren’t. Roy could see it. Hell, maybe that was love, too. Just a different shape of it.

“Sometimes love is a slow burn,” Roy said. “Especially when you’ve been taught to see it as a weapon. You’ll get there. You don’t have to rush.”

Jason looked down at the baby, then back at Roy. “What if I never do?”

Roy didn’t hesitate. “Then you don’t, I’ll keep showing up. Or until you tell me to fuck off. Either way, you’re not doing this alone.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment—eyes red but dry, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt.

And then, finally, he nodded. Just once. Barely.

But it was enough.

Roy sighs softly, “You want me to brush that hair of yours Jaybird?” Jason's hair was longer now just at his shoulders and the once white streak in his hair was now a chuck of white among his black hair.

Jason blinked at him, a little thrown by the sudden shift, like his brain had to reboot to catch up. He tilted his head, eyes flickering towards the baby as he finally fell asleep and furrowed his brow. “What?”

Roy gave a half-smile, shrugging like it was the most casual thing in the world. “I said, do you want me to brush your hair? It’s a damn mess. You look like a haunted Victorian orphan.”

Jason snorted before he could stop himself. It caught him off guard—something small and surprising that almost sounded like the start of a laugh. Roy’s heart pulled a little at the sight.

“Don’t you have better things to do than play hairdresser?” Jason muttered, but the edge in his voice had dulled. His fingers reflexively tucked a strand of that now uneven, longer hair behind his ear. “Besides, you hate doing hair. You nearly lost a hand the last time Lian asked for braids.”

Roy shrugged again. “Yeah, well. Lian bites. You mostly just growl beside I’m brushing it not styling it like I do mine.” He said winking before flipping his own hair.

Jason rolled his eyes, but something in him loosened—just a little. “You don’t have a brush, least I checked you caught yours on fire.”

“Lian has three. I can grab one.”

Jason hesitated. He didn’t say yes. But he didn’t say no, either. That was enough for Roy to push just a little more.

“It might help,” Roy said gently. “Let someone take care of you for five minutes. You don’t have to keep bracing for a fight.”

Jason looked down, eyes falling on the kid again. The baby was fully asleep now, small chest rising and falling against his own. There was something terrifyingly fragile about all of it—how little he felt, how much he was supposed to feel. But in this moment, with Roy in front of him and warmth in his chest, he didn’t feel quite so hollow.

He shifted toward the couch, eyeing the mountain of blankets Roy had dumped there. “Fine,” he muttered, already regretting it. “But if you tug too hard, I will break your fingers.”

Roy grinned. “See, now it’s like old times.”

“Old times didn’t involve me having a League baby in your apartment.”

Roy paused, mock-considering. “True. But you did once get shot in the ass with a tranq dart and made me carry you four city blocks.”

Jason rolled his eyes again, but this time it was almost fond.

He lowered himself carefully onto the couch, Roy disappeared into the hallway for a moment, then returned with a soft-bristled brush and a bottle of detangler that had a cartoon unicorn on it.

Jason raised a brow. “Seriously?”

Roy held them up proudly. “Lian-approved. Also smells like strawberries.”

Jason groaned and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Just do it before I change my mind.”

Roy sat behind Jason criss cross and gently gathered Jason’s hair, careful not to tug too hard as he started at the ends. The silence that settled between them wasn’t tense now—it was warm, grounding.

Jason didn’t say anything, but his shoulders dropped by an inch. Then another.

Amon shifted once, then settled again.

And for a long, quiet stretch of time, the two of them just were—a him and a friend brushing hair in a too-small living room filled with secondhand furniture and grief that still hadn't learned how to let go.

But maybe, just maybe, healing had begun.

Even if it smelled like strawberries.

Notes:

Hope you enjoy!

Notes:

Hi I really hoped all you enjoyed. I hope this doesn’t fail. I have perfection issues so this fic might be rewrote in the future. I’m not sure.