#redcat

Rotterdam October 3rd 01:58 GMT Team Year Three

No sooner does Jade slide through the window is Roy on her. He grabs her arm and all but slams her against the wall, his mouth on her jaw and nipping at the skin there in a way that makes her dizzy. She arches her back and tilts her head to feel more of his kiss. Usually she’s the one who takes control, toying with his reluctance until he finally gives in. This new development is certainly refreshing. 

They have an agreement— no personal contact until they’re released from their duties as Shadows. Once they’re free, the early hours of the morning are all theirs while the rest of the world remains asleep. 

“Miss me?” Jade purrs, unable to help but edge him on. 

Roy makes a noise between his teeth, close enough to a scoff, but it’s buried in the kiss he places on her collarbone. His sentiments were a stark difference from a year ago. It would take her weeks just to get him close enough to tease with. 

After a few more kisses, Jade gets bored and swings her leg over his hips, forcefully spinning them around and changing their positions. With her on top, she grins, running a fingernail down his chest. “What, nothing to say? All work and no play makes Cheshire a sad girl.” 

“Since when do you want to talk?” Roy mutters, grasping a handful of her hair at the base of her neck. It’s just possessive enough that Jade almost finds it sweet. 

She shrugs, her fingers gliding down on his suit, getting closer and closer to where she can almost feel him throbbing. “Someone’s eager.” 

Roy tightens his grip on her hair. “You kept me waiting.” 

“Did I?” Jade tilts her head to the side before giving him a kiss, quick and delicate and not nearly enough to sate either of their growing hungers. 

She doesn’t really remember how this kind of thing started. One moment she was just teasing him, thwarting his little missions to try and get closer to Luthor. It was cute seeing how frustrated he would get. Then their meetings became longer, more deliberate. Kissing in alleyways, fucking on rooftops. Suddenly he announces he’s done with the hero gig and wants to join the Shadows. 

Having had enough of her games, Roy grabs Jade’s kimono with two hands and all but tears it off of her. She pouts. “Rude.” 

“Shut up. Like it isn’t half-torn already.” 

“But those are deliberate. Do you know how hard it is to—” He silences her with a swift kiss, hot and heavy, and she eagerly gives up the game and reciprocates.  

Jade knows he’s using her, but she doesn’t mind. She’s using him too, in a way. The nights she shares with Roy take away the bitter edge of loneliness that she’s convinced herself she prefers. Having him there, inside her, makes her feel human again, like something other than the Shadow she’s trained herself to become. 

As Roy drags her down to the floor, she pulls down the rest of his uniform with far too much ease, knowing that this one will be quick and dirty. They both need this tonight. Maybe the next round, if there is one, will be slower, but for now, this suits them just fine. 

Infinity Island January 19th, 23:47 ECT Team Year Four

Roy hates days off. 

Surprisingly, they’re pretty frequent in the Shadows. Turns out that the life of a freelance assassin is less demanding than one would think; go figure. Cheshire—Jade says it’s because they want them in peak shape for the jobs they do work. Roy thinks it’s because they can’t afford to pay their asininely high pay rate on a routine schedule. 

He was never good with days off, even while masquerading as a hero. Time off means time to let his thoughts fester. Roy prefers keeping busy, letting his hands always work and keeping his thoughts at bay. He wonders if this is how the real Roy Harper is, or if it’s simply part of his clone programming. He’d put the odds at around 50-50 for either option. 

Ideally, Roy would be taking the time to figure out his next move on the search for Speedy. Days at his disposal, cash flow, and a wealth of information nearly at his fingertips— three months ago, this would have been his dream. 

Unfortunately for him, Jade has a point as to their work-life balance. 

Shadow gigs are brutal. The last one left him with three broken ribs, a nasty gash on his ankle, and bruises so comically vibrant it’s as if someone painted them on. 

So instead of planning, he waits for Jade. He’s taken to spending many of his spare hours with her, as of late. It wasn’t intentional, or at least it hadn’t started that way. She’d show up at his window, poke fun at his bruises. If she’s feeling nice, she’ll hide bandages in the pockets of her kimono and trade them for a meal. If she isn’t, she’ll trail her fingernails down his neck and press up against his bruises in a way that makes his nerves explode, but he can’t stop himself from accepting her advances anyway. 

The hours pass. Then, the days. 

Roy curses himself for never bothering to look into her location. He’s grown so used to her intrusions, there had never been a need. 

At first he tries to convince himself he doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care. He’s gone most of his life—16 months—without an outlet, sexual or otherwise. Why should this be any different? Without her, he has room to breathe. To focus. 

Three weeks without her, he’s completely lost all focus. 

Roy spends most of his time away from the apartment. Otherwise, he finds his gaze frequenting to the windowsill, expecting to see her there. He feels her touch in the bedroom. Hears her mocking laugh in whispers in the walls. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He doesn’t even like her, and for the most part, he’s using her as a release for his frustrations. Roy isn’t sure if this anxiety, this unease is a residual of him, the original, but he wishes it would go away. This stress should fuel him to try harder. To search for the original Roy Harper with all this extra time and clarity. Instead, he’s rendered nearly useless. 

It takes five weeks for him to get back on track. To open up a computer again, and narrow his targets down until he’s finally found a suitable one. 

Roy returns to his apartment at four in the morning, having finalized his research for the day. His next Shadow gig is the following evening. That gives him seven hours to sleep, one to eat, and a few to get his bearings together. He’s planned this to a T. 

“Hey, Red.” 

Shit.

Jade perches on his mattress, bearing a grin so nonchalant that it sends a prickling shiver down his back. Roy wishes he could rip the grin right off her face. 

Five weeks. And not a single word. 

To his credit, he doesn’t engage. Roy turns away, and stalks over to the corner of the room, all too cognizant of how stiff his motions are. He carefully removes his quiver and sets it on the dresser. 

“Ouch. The silent treatment.” 

Roy holds back a sigh and sets to inspecting his arrows. If any are damaged, he’ll need to fix them before tomorrow’s gig. That’s another two hours to work into the schedule. He’s doing the mental math in his head, all the while feeling her eyes burn a hole in the back of his suit. Roy knows the moment he looks at her, it’s over, and she claims her victory.

Maybe if he ignores her long enough, she’ll leave. He’s done it before. The early days, when she used to poke and prod and tease until he realized he could use it to his advantage. 

But now he’s bitter. His ego clouds his judgement, his plans for the long term. He doesn’t want her. Not if she thinks she can come and go, without a word. 

“Should I go?” 

Roy pauses. 

She’s putting the question to him. That’s a new one.

He sets down the arrow he was inspecting, and finally turns back around and raises his eyes to meet Jade’s. Now it’s his turn to drink in her appearance. She looks different. The circles under her eyes are darker, and there’s a quiver in her grin. She’s eschewed her usual kimono for a t-shirt, and her hair, usually boisterous and wild, is up, tied in a ponytail. It’s almost cute.

Fuck it.

Roy clambers onto the bed and then she’s in his arms, responding hungrily as soon as he places his mouth on hers. He grasps at her shirt, thinking for a moment that it might be his. As his hands clutch at her body, he takes in the new bruises, the cuts that’ll turn into scars. 

Five weeks she’d been away. Away, working gigs, and not a word while he was going crazy. 

He knows he has to end it, whatever it is that he has with her. She’s coming between his mission, his determination to find Speedy. It’s obvious now that she couldn’t care less about him. 

So why on earth should he?

Paris March 15th, 20:19 ECT Team Year Four

“Tell me something,” Roy says, interrupting the peace. 

Jade looks up from the novel she’s reading on the couch. Wuthering-something. Artemis left it for her, said she’d enjoy it. Given that this is her third attempt at trying to read it, Jade thinks that it must be some play at a joke. She’d find it hilarious, if it weren’t so depressing. 

She sets the book down, flipping it shut. Roy sits by her feet, idly watching whatever broadcast he’d turned the TV to. He doesn’t seem particularly interested, given the sudden bid at conversation. So Jade wraps her arms around his shoulders, letting her hands caress the muscles she’d gotten so accustomed to. 

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” 

Jade scoffs, lighter than she intended. 

“Guess,” she purrs in his ear before moving her lips downwards, planting soft kisses along his neck. 

“Hmm.” Roy turns to look at her, interrupting her trail of kisses. “Gymnast.” 

“Guess again.” Her hands move under his shirt, letting her fingernails trail down his chest. She feels him stiffen, and she knows that in a matter of minutes she’ll have him exactly where she wants him. 

“Chemist.” 

Jade glides off the couch, easily maneuvering herself so she’s nestled in his lap. “Nope.” 

“Doctor.” 

A quick peck against his lips.

“Astronaut?” 

Her hands sink lower, hovering right above the waistband of his jeans. 

“I got it. Ballet dancer.” 

Jade stops, her mouth curling upwards. “Red,” she warns. 

He laughs, and the scowl all but drops from her face. His laughs are so light, almost hiccupy, and are a treat she savors. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” Roy says, lifting a hand and using it to brush away the hair that’s fallen out of her ponytail. 

They’re on another sabbatical, a week after their last Shadow stint on Infinity Island. This is the sweet spot; most of their bruises have started to yellow, and their muscles are nice and ready to do their bidding with minimal protest. Jade had mentioned she has a safe house in Paris, and suddenly he was camping out, making pancakes and keeping the news on at all hours of the night. 

She has to admit, it’s an unusual change, but not an entirely unwelcome one. 

Jade stops her pursuit and pulls back from his touch, raising a careful brow. “Why the sudden interest?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out. You can’t tell me that ‘Assassin’ has been your career of choice your whole life.”

“Assassin extraordinaire, actually.” 

Roy rolls his eyes, but his hands find her hips, fingertips resting on the exposed skin from her askew tank. “You’re impossible.” 

“True.” She grins when she says it. “That’s what mom and Artemis would say.” She doesn’t know why she offered that little tidbit of information. He doesn’t care. Jade knows he’s only here for one reason. 

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Jade places her lips on his, biting, pulling at his lower lip. An invitation. This usually makes him fold, and should cease any pesky thoughts accumulating in his brain. 

Roy pulls back from the kiss. His cheeks are flushed, but his eyes convey something different, narrowing in a way that easily betrays the exact thoughts she was hoping to avoid. 

Clearly, she wasn’t quick enough. 

“You know…” he begins, his fingers still firmly grasping her waist. In a way, it’s almost possessive. Even reassuring. 

He opens his mouth, a sentence forming. Jade knows what’s lingering in the forefront. 

You could always go back, you know. 

I’ll help you.

You don’t need to be a Shadow forever.

Unlike her, he isn’t aware of how his emotions splay across every inch of him, untrained in the art of mystery. Jade watches him grapple with his thoughts for a moment, until he closes his mouth, clearly deciding against it. If he made the attempt, it would blow his already flimsy cover apart.

Of course, she knows he’s faking. She isn’t sure that he knows it, though, which works out in her favor for the most part. 

Instead of finishing his thought, his palm finds her chin, and he gently tilts her head up so he can resume kissing her. Better to hide the attempt in something he knows how to do well, Jade knows him enough to determine that. 

Still, there’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, reeking of the bitter edge of disappointment. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, rather one that Jade’s grown used to, even counted on, over the years. She’s used to people not fighting for her. To people giving up.

It shouldn’t bother her that he keeps giving up on her. 

Jade shouldn’t care, and so, she doesn’t. She reaches her hand up, fingers intertwining in his hair as she reciprocates the kiss.

Then, she pulls away.

 “Veterinarian,” she offers, quieter than she’d meant it to. 

A lie. But a lie that will placate him.

And it does. The muscles in his face relax, eyes softening. “The cat thing. Should have known.” 

Jade hums in response before kissing him again. This time, he lets her tongue slip through his parted lips, and his hands reach into the waistband of her shorts to explore further. 

The truth was, a lifetime ago, she’d wanted to be a hero. 

Imagine that.

Santa Prisca April 5th, 00:32 ECT Team Year Four

Sometimes Roy feels as if his mind is being split in two. 

There’s so much anger, unrest, and determination that clouds his every waking moment, and with each second that passes he can feel his blood boiling underneath his skin. He keeps telling himself that none of this is real, that it doesn’t matter. The people he watches being hurt, the screams, the money he collects as payment for a job well done— none of it. Everything will be worth it when he finds Speedy, and being in the Shadows is getting him closer than he’s ever been before. 

Or so, he tells himself. 

The other part of him, the little bit of humanity he figures was left behind in his clone programming, is going insane. Roy lies awake at night, hearing the ghosts. He wonders what Ollie would say, if he could see him now. Probably little, considering he’s a shoddy replacement for the boy he actually cares about, but he was cloned to be human, so the thoughts persist. 

Jade makes it better. The nights she’s with him, Roy clings to her body as her nails dig into his back, kissing her to the point where he struggles to breathe. Only then does he feel more at peace. Less torn apart. 

Being in the Shadows never gets easier, but spending time with Jade helps. Roy knows he shouldn’t trust her, but the only times he’s able to fall asleep are when she’s by his side, his fingers tangled in her reckless hair. 

When she isn’t there, he crumbles. It gets harder not to. 

Every time she leaves, another piece of him comes undone. Roy buries himself in research, research that often leads to nothing. He tells himself that being in the Shadows is helping, but in reality he isn’t any closer than when he started— only now, his hands are a lot less clean. It takes a toll on a person. 

He’s too tired to fight her when she returns. Jade has a way of drawing him in. The softness of her skin, the faint scent of jasmine that lingers in his bed, her cries of pleasure as he finally gives in and sinks into her, he needs it. She’s like a drug, one that leaves him worse for wear every time he’s left without her. 

Roy loves her. He could never admit it to her, but he does. Jade knows exactly how he works, what makes him tick. He loves the way she can’t boil a pot of water, and he loves how she wears his shirts in the mornings, her eyes tired from unwilling to give in to the temptation of sleep. He loves her smile, her real smile, the one she lets slip from behind her carefully placed mask, the one that lights up her face in a way that makes him wish he could savor it forever.

And yet, he can’t stand the way he needs her. She’s a Shadow. Roy knows she wants nothing more to do with him than a good fuck when she feels a little lonely. He knows that she’s probably already figured out his cover and is waiting for the perfect moment to rat him out and feed him to the wolves. 

The mix of emotions does little to heal his already shattered psyche. Missions, even easy ones, turn relentless. 

Then, he fucks up. 

Roy’s latest gig was supposed to be simple. In and out, guarding a shipment of LexCorp tech. Of course, simplicity isn’t a luxury he’s been often afforded as of late, and so his former team showed up to stop them. Jade— Cheshire is a pro. She hands out the orders to keep them distracted while she finalizes the tech handoff. 

He keeps them distracted, alright. The moment the team realizes who they’re fighting, the battle turns into something else entirely. He dodges as many insults as he does Bumblebee’s bolts, and scrapes both his elbows raw while avoiding a tussle with the newest Robin. He knows what’s at stake; if he doesn’t fight them his cover will be blown. But it hurts. 

It shouldn’t, given that he isn’t even their friend. That was Speedy’s deal. Once he finds him, Red Arrow will be nothing but an unpleasant memory. 

So why does the look on all of their faces, even behind the masks, cut him right to his core? 

The Team thwarted the shipment and destroyed the cargo that was supposed to guarantee him a salary worthy of two months' research to find Speedy. The failure, combined with the disappointment, sits with him. Back at his safehouse, he doesn’t even bother removing his weapons before sinking to the floor, head in his hands. Roy isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. It’s too much for one person; even a shoddy, cloned replica of one. 

“Pathetic.” 

He lifts his head from his hands, and there Jade is, towering over him. She lifts her mask above her head, a sneer on full display. “One failed mission and you start pouting like a little baby. Did seeing your little friends hurt your feelings?”

“They’re not my friends,” Roy grits out, even though he knows it means nothing. “Not anymore. I’m done with that life.” 

A sharp fingernail juts under his chin, then carefully lifts his head to meet her eyes. Jade’s angry. As the leader, the failure of the mission fell on her shoulders. As did the punishment. 

“Grow up.” Jade’s fingernail digs deeper into his skin. “Or get out. Those are your only options, because if you think I’ll take another fall for your failure to perform, you’re sorely mistaken.” 

The words shouldn’t mean much. Roy knows that Jade’s a bitch when she’s in pain, and he’s all too familiar with the Shadow’s punishments for failure so he shouldn’t blame her. 

But he’s tired. The insults, the loneliness, the mental load and heaviness that sits on his shoulders, the screams— he snaps. 

“Funny,” he spits, yanking his chin away before tossing off his domino mask. “The biggest child of them all, has the audacity to tell me to grow up.”

Jade narrows her eyes, but doesn’t respond. He’s caught her off guard, she was expecting him to bend, but instead he broke. Roy can see the gears ticking in her head, carefully forming a response, so he won’t give her the opportunity. Instead he grabs her wrist, yanking her close to him. 

“If you think that I want you to protect me, you’re the mistaken one. You couldn’t protect something if you tried. No,” Roy says, hating how quickly the words tumble out of his mouth, but it’s a release and god does it feel good. “You’d have to get close to something to protect it. But you couldn’t get close to someone if your life depended on it. Because when things get hard, you run.”

“Fuck you.” Jade’s voice drips with malice. He’s hurt her. Good. For once, he’s tired of being the one that’s hurt.

“What’s the matter, Cheshire? Can’t take the truth?” Roy laughs, a pathetic sound that sounds half hysterical. “Face it, the moment you get scared, you run. From me, your mom, Artemis, even yourself. Doesn’t matter. You run away, just like a little girl.”

Roy watches her eyes widen, just for a split second, and then her cold mask is on and she strikes him, hard enough that he feels the marks her nails left behind on his cheeks. 

He should feel better now. The rage, the pain that’s been sitting on his chest is now out in the open, inflicted on someone else. Jade isn’t an innocent. Roy knows that she could have nothing more to do with him and not think another thought about it. He’s the one who’ll have to live with it. So he decides, then and there, to let her go. 

“I’m done with you,” he barks, letting go of her wrist and shoving her away with a force that nearly causes her to stumble. “This, whatever we had, we’re through.”

Jade laughs, the cold, calculated laugh of Cheshire. Not the woman he loves. She slips her mask back on, her grin staring right through him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Arrow. We never had anything to begin with.” 

She’s gone before he can comprehend the meaning of her words. Roy knows that this time, it’ll be for good. 

Fort-De-France May 26th, 03:16 ECT Team Year Four

Exhaustion is a feeling Jade will never quite get used to. Feelings like pain and hunger come and go at will, easily stifled by a gnash of bread, or a quick dose of morphine. Those are easy.  There’s only one remedy for exhaustion, and she rarely allows herself to indulge in it. 

The circumstances for her exhaustion were out of the ordinary; at least, for her. She’d been summoned to Infinity Island on an urgent notice. That usually meant one of two things: 

Sensei needed her assistance in a mission designed specifically for her expertise. 

Or, a defector was found in the midst.

Jade had really hoped it would be the former. Unfortunately for her, as Lady Luck should have it, the situation was a bit of both. For there was Roy, crumpled on the ground of the training area, battered and broken and bleeding. Never had she been more grateful for her Cheshire mask. 

Sensei gave her the commanding order to finish him off. The rest happened quickly. One moment, her katana was to Roy’s throat, barely a tremble in her wrist. 

The next, she’d thrown a smoke grenade six feet in front of her, yanked the archer to his feet, and ran. 

It took them four days to shake the Shadows off their trail before they finally lost them in New Mexico. Two continents, three countries, and six different modes of transport. That was the cost of Jade’s betrayal. That, and a very nasty gash just an inch above her left hip bone. How’s that for loyalty? 

While adrenaline kept them moving for the most part, the true lull of sleep begins to set into Jade’s muscles the closer they get to her safehouse. When they finally make it to the door, it takes a considerable amount of effort just to pick the lock. Thankfully, Roy says nothing.

Inside, Jade faces a true dilemma. Her bed all but sings to her, but neither of them had eaten in over forty-eight hours. Her shoddily bandaged side screams for attention, and there’s a very real possibility that her body could be going through shock. Which to address first? Fog clouds her mind, she can’t think, and it sends an annoying prickle down her spine that she allowed herself to reach this dilemma in the first place. 

If Crusher could see her now… 

“Jade.” 

A palm on her shoulder. She jumps back instinctively, but once the haze in her mind clears she realizes it’s only Roy. 

It’s not surprising she reacted this way; neither of them had uttered a word since Infinity Island.

“I need to see your side,” he murmurs, keeping his tone even. He’s tossed off his domino mask, and his eyes are equally rimmed red with exhaustion.

Jade wants to quip back that he’s in worse physical shape than she is, given the beating he took before her arrival, but she can’t press the words out of her mind. Instead she remains still as he crouches down and unlaces her kimono, pulling it aside with a feather’s touch.

She watches as Roy assesses the damage. Judging by the tightness of his mouth, it isn’t good.

“You need stitches,” he declares, slowly drawing himself upright. “But you’ll live.”

“Miraculous. Thank you, Dr. Harper,” Jade drawls, pulling away from his touch and heading for the kitchen. She hasn’t taken two steps before there’s a palm around her wrist and she’s pulled back. 

“Did you not hear me?”

The anger in his tone reminds her of their last conversation. Her lips flare, and in a moment she’s twisted her hand around and slams her elbow into his chest. Roy wasn’t expecting it, and all too easily she pins him to the wall with her elbow to his neck. 

“We’re done, remember?” Jade reminds, glaring up at him. She wishes she hadn’t lost her mask during their escape. She has to keep her face extra still, lest she betray the pure anger she feels. “What are you still doing here? Why did you follow me back?” 

“Why did you save me?” Roy asks back, narrowing his eyes. 

Jade closes her mouth, but doesn’t release her grip on him. The real question of the hour. Why did she save him?

She’s lost everything now. All the respect, the status she’d taken years to earn, now gone. And for what? A man who didn’t even want her. 

One of her less brilliant moves, all things considered. 

Roy doesn’t ask again, and she knows he’s waiting for an answer, but she can’t give herself one, much less voice it aloud.

“Help yourself to whatever you need,” she says, removing her arm from his throat, unpinning him. “But you can show yourself out.” 

It’s the last kindness she’ll do for him. Then she’ll leave him alone, just like he wanted from the very beginning. 

Her head feels less foggy after consuming an energy bar. When her vision clears, Jade shuts herself in the bathroom and slumps down on the floor, closing her eyes. He wasn’t wrong about the stitches. She’ll need to do them herself, which is a task she loathes, but not left with much of an alternative option. All her medical contacts belonged to the Shadows. 

She’s debating the merits of pleading temporary insanity to Ra’s Al Gul when there’s a soft knock on the bathroom door. 

Jade opens her eyes. He’s still here. 

Upon receiving no response, the door opens, and there the archer is, staring down at her. Wordlessly, he joins her on the floor, then opens up the cabinet under the sink to dig out the first aid kit.

“Do you have anything for the pain? This will hurt.” 

“I’m fine.” She isn’t. But with the lack of sleep, she can’t risk it. 

“Then hold this,” Roy says, handing her a towel. “And if you need a break, tell me.” 

He doesn’t offer an apology, but he doesn’t need to. It’s laced in the way he tenderly grips Jade’s skin together before slides in the needle. It’s written all over his face, still except for when she clenches the towel tighter. 

When Roy finishes stitching her up, he takes hold of her wrist, where he’d grabbed her before, and places a kiss against her pulse. 

Sorry.

A kiss on her palm. 

I was a jackass.

Another, right against her fingers. 

Thank you for what you did.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s the best apology she’s ever received.

Jade sits up, letting out the breath she’d been holding from the ordeal. The pain had woken her up a little, enough to where she doesn’t feel the need to pass out against the greasy bathroom tile. 

“I suppose this frees up your schedule now, Red.” She watches as he stands and brings the first aid kit to the counter to tackle his own injuries. “Going on the hunt for Speedy?

Roy nods. “I have an equipment cache in New Orleans,” he muses, pouring antiseptic on a cotton ball and dabbing it against a cut on his left cheek. “I’m almost out of arrows.”

This doesn’t seem like information that pertains to her, so she only half-listens. Jade carefully peels herself from the ground and grabs a hairbrush from a drawer, moving to tame the snarls in her hair. She’ll need a shower soon, but the warm water combined with her sleep levels don’t make a particularly great combination. 

A silence follows, not uncomfortable. They patch themselves up the best they can with her limited resources. She’d meant for this safehouse to be more of a relaxation stop than a recovery one.

After a few minutes, Roy sets down the antiseptic, turning his head towards her. “Do you have enough here to restock what you need?”

It takes a moment for Jade to realize what he’s saying. She almost laughs, but instead allows herself a smile. 

“You don’t owe me anything, you know.” She hoists herself up on the counter, carefully extending her legs in order to wrap them around his waist and pull him in closer. “What happens in Rome…”

Jade catches his eyes flickering as they stare back at hers, gears turning as he figures out what to stay. 

“You can’t seriously think I’m leaving you here.”

She hates the electric jolt that shoots through her body before her mind fully processes his words. He wants her to come with him. It’s an absurd thought. Under no circumstances should she agree; she couldn't care less about finding that Harper brat. And yet…

Jade’s fingers find their way to the back of his head, burying in his hair. “You want my connections.” 

Roy opens his mouth, about to disagree. Then he stops, clenches his jaw and lowers his eyes. Jade knows there’s enough truth in her words that keeps him from arguing. He takes a moment, then lifts his eyes to meet hers. “I can’t do this without you, Jade.”

She knows that much is true. And yet, she wants him anyway. 

“We’ll need to stop in Gotham.” 

He grabs her face with his hands, then kisses her so deeply that it makes her lightheaded again. 

Washington, D.C. January 28th, 20:00 EST Team Year Five

There are days that Roy truly regrets giving Jade a ring. 

Not that she ever wears it. She’d stared at it apprehensively when he’d procured it, wore it once for the ceremony, and then God only knows what she did with it. 

The ring is more symbolic. Symbolic enough to come with a legal title that Jade thinks she can throw in his face whenever it damn well suits her. It hardly means anything. It doesn’t stop her from being a complete pain in his ass. 

It doesn’t stop her from leaving. 

This time she’d left him stranded at an underground club in Geneva. She was seeking information about the newest LexCorp plant being built in Honduras, and he took the opportunity to top up on his supply. Money was growing thin, but the underground places didn’t dent the wallet as badly. 

An argument followed. 

Jade claimed he was growing addicted. Even if he was, why should it matter? His body is just a copy of the original. The real Roy Harper is the only body that truly warranted concern; at least, in his mind. Fifteen minutes later, she’d disappeared. Roy was growing tired of these disappearing acts. They were childish, for one. Plus, without her support, his intel became seriously lackluster. 

There was also the matter that her very presence is the only thing keeping him from truly letting go, but that was something that he’d rarely admit to high, let alone sober. 

She has a special talent though, his wife. Jade always picks the worst possible moment to show up again. Roy really doesn’t know how she does it. 

Four weeks after abandoning him in Switzerland, and with a lack of any viable leads, Roy goes to their safehouse back in the States and blows the very last of his savings on another hit. The moment the needle enters his arm, he’s filled with relief. His mind quiets. The hunger, the exhaustion, the feelings of utter worthlessness finally dissipate. No more Speedy. No more Jade. Just peace. 

The problem occurs when the high wears off quicker than he’d expected. And in retrospect, perhaps choosing a European safehouse in the middle of January wasn’t his smartest decision. When his mind finally comes to, he’s laying on the bathroom floor, his whole body shaking. He tells himself to move, but his muscles refuse to cooperate. Even breathing is hard. Everything is cold, so very cold.  

Roy isn’t sure how much time passes. Minutes, hours, days, they all feel the same. And truly, he doesn’t even care anymore. He stops trying to will himself off the floor, to force the air in and out of his lungs. No one would truly miss him if he lay here. If he just fades away into nothing, like the worthless clone he is. 

This is how Jade finds him. Fingertips turning blue, barely breathing, sprawled across the bathroom floor. Next thing he knows, there’s an extreme rush of warmth, so uncomfortable that it feels like fire has caressed every inch of his skin. He fights it, struggling to escape, but a pair of arms hold him down, unwilling to let go. 

Then everything goes black. 

Roy isn’t sure where he is when he comes to. His brain is so foggy, pounding with an intensity that’s reminiscent of someone hammering into his skull. He tries to sit up, hand grasping the back of his head, but a gentle hand keeps him down. 

“Jade?” he groans, a pathetic, measly sound that he immediately wishes he could take back. Roy turns his head, and indeed his wife is there, expression blank. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Her voice drips with malice, and her fingernails begin to dig into the skin of his chest. “I hope you’re proud.” 

“Jade…” 

“You almost killed yourself, Roy,” she barks. “If I had come even ten minutes later—” 

“It wouldn’t have gotten that bad if you hadn’t left in the first place,” he snaps back. Roy knows better than to pick a fight, especially when coming down from a high. But his head hurts, and he’s still annoyed with her for being gone so long. 

Jade scoffs, standing up from the bed. “I didn’t realize that one of the conditions of marrying you was signing on to be your babysitter.”

There it is again. Roy curls his fists, wanting so much to bite back, to throw her against the wall and truly release his frustrations. As much as he’d like to, he has a sneaking suspicion that now is not the time. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Cut the bullshit. I told you, I’m not going to stick around and watch you kill yourself.”  

“Then why’d you come back at all?” Roy pushes the blanket off, maneuvering himself so he can get out of bed. Jade makes an attempt to stop him, but he brushes her arm away and gets to his feet. 

Of course she doesn’t answer him. She never has an answer for him. 

This time, he doesn’t have the patience to wait until she sidesteps her way out of giving him a decent response. Instead he goes to the living room, where his laptop is waiting. There has to be something he hasn’t tried yet. A plant he’s overlooked, or a subsidiary they hadn’t searched well enough. 

Roy’s deep in his research when Jade sits across from him. He doesn’t acknowledge her, nor does he bother to look up from his computer. Not even when she rests her hand on his arm, her nails brushing against the newest track marks. 

“Please,” she says, softer than he’s ever heard her speak before. “You have to stop.”

This time it’s him who doesn’t have an answer. How can he tell her that the drugs are the only things that make him feel even a semblance of worth anymore? 

“Maybe we should go back to the States, to Star City. We can get you help.” 

“I don’t need help,” Roy spits. “I need to find Speedy. You’re the one who needs help if you think you can just waltz into Star City and not get arrested on sight.” He’s being cruel, and a little unreasonable, but his head hurts so much the release is almost helping.

His gaze is torn away from his computer, and suddenly he’s staring right at her. He tries to yank his head away, but Jade’s fingers press against his chin, keeping him still. “Roy, we’ve been searching for almost a year. And you’ve been searching for longer. You need to accept the reality that Speedy is gone.”

For the first time, Roy can see the effect of their partnership on her face. She’s scared. He knows her well enough that if she’s letting her mask fall enough for him to see it, she must be desperate. 

Jade deserves so much better. Better than he could ever give her. 

He grabs her arm and shoves it away from his face. “Maybe you need to accept that you don’t know shit, Jade. You’re useless.” 

He’s the one who’s useless. But he doesn’t want to subject her to this life, to him, anymore. 

For once, Roy gets his wish. 

Jade leaves him. This time, for good.

Gotham City March 1st, 7:16 EST Team Year Six

Lian sleeps best when she’s tucked inside Jade’s arms. She loathes the crib Roy spent the better part of a morning painstakingly building. Every time they try to put her in it, she screams until she’s in their arms again. 

For being the result of two very lone-wolf parents, their daughter is happiest in their company. Go figure. 

It’s an odd quirk, but one Jade finds oddly charming. She’s rarely let Lian out of sight since she was born. Even on the hunt for leads about Speedy, Lian was always nestled into a carrier on her chest. So it makes sense that being with her mother would give the baby peace. And Crusher thought she’d make a terrible mother. 

Jade would never call herself lazy, by any means. However, having to excuse herself to put the baby down for the night is quite a reprieve from the daily to-do. No running, constantly on the hunt for threats. No dragging Roy around to the barber, or the gym, or the grocery store, trying to put a broken man into some semblance of togetherness again. For just a short period of time, she gets to lie back on the huddle of pillows her husband had neatly arranged on the bed, Lian in her arms, and listen to the gentle swells of her breath, coming and going. 

She doesn’t exactly relax, mind you. Jade’s arms can never fully relax, always ready to pull Lian to safety should danger come crashing through the window. It’s a wonder Lian finds her arms even remotely comfortable.  The faucet turns off in the kitchen. Roy had volunteered to wash the dishes— two of Lian’s bottles, and their plates from breakfast. Jade leans her head back against the pillows, closing her eyes to quell the burning sensation she feels from exhaustion. If the dishes were done, he’d be continuing to the gym. She’d left his bag, already packed, by the door. He won’t be back for hours, which means that she wouldn’t be getting any resemblance of sleep in the near future. 

Jade opens her eyes, letting them adjust to the dimness, and stands, her hand firmly on Lian’s back as she adjusts her positioning. She’s about to attempt the crib again when a quick rap sounds on the door. 

“Hey.” 

She turns. Roy stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. They’re tilted slightly, just awkward enough to show his discomfort. 

“Hey,” she offers back, but nothing else. 

“You sure you want to attempt the crib again?” There’s a note of playfulness embedded in his words. Not completely, but enough to make her raise a brow. 

Jade ponders, then looks down at their sleeping daughter. “She’s pretty out of it.” And she is. Lian’s eyes are closed without a single care in the world. Her mop of auburn hair is plastered to her forehead, covered in a light layer of perspiration. Jade brushes it back with her nails, using a feather’s touch so as not to wake her. “And she’ll need to get used to it eventually.” 

“I know.” Roy takes a step into the room, but remains by the safety of the door. Jade pretends not to notice. 

“Tired of the noise already?” The jape leaves her lips before she can fully comprehend it. She’s supposed to be taking it easy on him, but this one slipped. She must be tired. “Babies cry, you know. It’s normal.” 

He nods, and takes a half step back. “I know. It’s not that.” Roy unfurls his arms, letting them hang limp before one goes to rub the back of his neck. “She just looks so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake her.”

Well, now she definitely feels bad.

“Did you eat yet?” A peace offering. Dinner. 

“No. Did you?” 

The empty feeling in Jade’s stomach confirms she hadn’t. Come to think of it, neither of them had eaten since breakfast. She supposed this was her fault, her responsibility. The outline of Roy’s ribs jutting against his chest meant that mealtimes were supposed to be enforced by her. 

Without responding, Jade carefully cradles Lian to her chest and leaves the bedroom, directing towards the kitchen. There should be pasta in the pantry. Penne, she thinks. Maybe a bag of wilted spinach. She hadn’t had the chance to go grocery shopping yet. 

She’s digging through the cabinets to look for the pasta, when she feels her husband watching her. 

“Still here?” Jade unearths the box, fusilli, and closes the cabinet door. “I thought you were going to the gym.”

Roy doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turns on the faucet, spinning it to the right to summon the hot water, and grabs a pot from a cabinet next to the fridge. He waits until the pot is half-filled before turning to look at Jade. “You’re always with the baby. I…” His brow furrows, darkness clouding the blue, unsure of how to continue. 

She sets the box down on the counter, waiting. But Roy doesn’t continue. He shuts off the water. sets the pot down on the burner, and goes to look for a match.

This is how they communicate now. He thinks three times before he speaks, and half the time his thoughts remain unfinished. There’s an unspoken tension, a faint scent of abandonment that lingers in both their peripherals. For better or worse, they understand each other well enough that a new game has formed. 

The game of chicken: who’s allowed to speak and get their thoughts across first? For the most part, she remains victorious. 

Jade ponders his words as she rests against the counter, trying to decipher exactly what it is her husband wants. It used to be so easy, tracing the contours of his muscles and watching the way his body let her know exactly what he needed from her. Searching his eyes, late at night, figuring out the next plan of action. And yet here, they can barely look at each other for more than two seconds before they make a hasty excuse to avert their gazes. 

He returns to the kitchen, empty handed, defeated. “I think we’re out of matches.”

She’s about to respond that she’ll run down to the corner store and get some, but she feels Lian start stirring in her arms. The baby whimpers, and Jade can feel Roy watching her every move. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Lian calms and returns to slumber.

Ah. Jade understands now. 

She closes the gap between them, ignoring her thundering heart, and holds out Lian. “My arms hurt.”  They don’t.

Roy’s eyes widen, but his arms immediately form the position she’d taught him. Jade rests Lian in his arms, and then they both wait, not moving, wondering if the change would wake her up. She feels Roy’s eyes on her, wide with terror, but the baby nestles in her father’s arms just as she did her mother’s. 

“Let’s order in. I don’t want to wash dishes tonight.” The oddity of how domestic those words sound to Jade’s ears is not even remotely lost on her. And yet, they have the exact effect she wants. 

Roy nods, and finally looks down to his daughter, the terror dissipating from his eyes the longer he looks at her. “That’s fine with me.” 

Star City May 7th, 13:32 PST Team Year Eight

It’s not often that Jade finds herself out of breath. 

She’s incredibly athletic, for one. On the occasion she has the wind physically knocked out of her by an opponent, she steels herself and focuses on the action that’ll lead to immediate recovery. Jade’s good at recovery, at staying composed and thinking things through before reassessing the need for an expression of emotion. 

And yet, as she turns the diamond ring over in her palm, she finds all the air in the world completely lost to her. 

Jade hadn’t meant to find it. She’d found herself with some free time while Will, Artemis and Lian were at the park. Normally, she’d have gone with them. Having Lian out of sight sets her skin on fire, with a growing pit of nausea burrowing deep in her abdomen. But Will had insisted, wanting her to have some time to herself, and the gesture was so sweet and his smile was so genuine, she found herself unable to refuse. 

With this sudden spurt of free time, Jade was left to her own devices. And unfortunately for her, the sudden loneliness overtakes her in such a surge that she’s unable to do anything but stew in her own thoughts, and wonder just how much longer she’ll allow herself to remain in the familial bliss she’d so carefully curated. 

True, bliss was a strong word. The Nguyen-Harper-Crock household is anything but peaceful. Jade fondly refers her relationship with her husband as a ticking time bomb of equal tension and passion, and her sister’s presence does little to remedy it. Lian, sweet angel, is demonically going through the worst toddler phase in existence: so full of energy and chaotically hell-bent on causing trouble the moment she’s under no one’s careful eye. Her sister, still grief-stricken over the loss of her partner yet denying it at every turn and forcibly pushing herself into a false normalcy is somehow the sanest of them all. 

To Jade, it’s a little slice of heaven. 

Contrary to anyone’s idealized version of the assassin, Jade truly enjoys being a mother. The bedtime stories, getting soaked by splashes in the bath, dodging the endless blocks chucked at her head; she loves the mundanity of it all. 

And then, there’s Will. 

She never thought they’d end up sharing the same bed again. Never thought she’d feel his lips on hers again, biting and tugging with a similar desperation she’d felt so many years before. They aren’t, and would never be, perfect. The scars of the past are still raw enough that Jade feels their tenderness far too often for her liking. But they’re working on it. Or at least, that’s what he claims, when asked. 

Jade pulls out her phone, glances at the time, and sighs. They’ve barely been gone twenty minutes and her thoughts are already spiraling. Must be a record. 

She finishes off the tea she’d been nursing and sets the mug in the sink. If she lets herself continue to disappear into the echo chamber, it’ll be that much harder to come out of it. Productivity. She needs a task, something physical that’ll keep her thoughts at bay. 

There’s a laundry list of things she could do. Artemis complained this morning that she was out of clean underwear and with finals coming up, she didn’t know when she’d have time to do a load of laundry. They were out of milk. Her stash of knives haven’t been sharpened in ages. Will needed a new button up for an interview with the bank to take out a business loan. 

Jade picks the knives. 

She keeps a variety of weapons in the bottom drawer of her dresser. A foolish location, she knows. If Crusher knew, he’d combust. But with the move, and retiring Cheshire, she hadn’t exactly needed more than the dagger knife she keeps taped to her thigh. 

Jade reaches their bedroom and closes the door behind her— just in case. She and Will hadn’t exactly talked about it, but with Lian starting to call her ‘kitty-mommy’, it was an unspoken agreement that it was time to start distancing Cheshire from their home life. Her kimono and boots have been carefully stored in a box in her closet, and the majority of her weapons now lie buried beneath a small heap of carefully mussed up sweatpants and t-shirts. 

Only, when she opens the drawer, the clothes have been folded. Logically, Jade knows it’s Will’s doing. His compulsive organizational tendencies irk her to no end; usually he gripes at her, but it seems his words have now evolved into actions. It would be irritating if it didn’t usually work out in her favor. 

Jade digs beneath a neatly arranged stack of t-shirts for one her knives, but she feels an unfamiliar texture brush against her fingers. Almost velvet-like. With no care for the clothes, she tosses them to the side, delighting in the secret joy that this would definitely annoy her husband. 

And then, the joy immediately dissipates.

She stares at the velvet box at the bottom of the drawer, nestled so carefully within all her weapons. As if on autopilot, Jade takes the box into her hands, and flips the lid open. 

Jade had rarely worn the ring Roy—Will proposed with. A mediocre little thing, a simple silver band with an inconspicuous diamond dropped right in the center; her most prized possession. She’d sold it to pay for the six months she’d spent alone, pregnant with Lian. Will never asked her about it, and she didn’t intend on telling him. 

The ring staring back at her was nothing like that one. The carefully entwined silver strands twisted carefully around themselves, leading to the delicately encrusted green gemstones in the center. Jade swallows thickly, picking the ring out of the box. They were jades. 

She can imagine the effort he’d gone through to source this ring. How carefully he’d searched to find something that suited her. Something she’d want. A ring that meant something. 

Jade doesn’t dare put it on. The air has left her body, and the dryness in her throat all but chokes her. 

A ring meant he wanted to start over, to do it right. He’d propose, on one knee, not naked in bed, coming off a high. Lian would look so sweet, tossing flower petals down the aisle in a pathetic, puffy pink dress. Jade would wear white, and Artemis would cry but vehemently deny it.

Jade laughs, almost bitterly. Even imagining it felt stupid. 

She puts the ring back in the box and snaps the lid shut. It was a ludicrous thought. The shock begins to seep out of her system, replaced by anger. 

Stupid. So stupid. 

Jade pushes herself to her feet, and grabs a duffel out of the closet. They’d just unpacked it a couple weeks ago, among the last of the boxes from the move into the Star City house. She grabs her clothes from the floor and starts haphazardly shoving them in the duffel, mixed with her swords. 

As if she could just pretend like everything was normal. Jade stands, going to the closet and finding the box bearing her kimono and boots. He’d gone and left the ring in her weapons drawer, of all places. She opens the box and grabs her things, shoving them carelessly into the duffel. She’s furious with him. Will was so sure, so trusting that she was done with Cheshire, so completely positive that she wouldn’t be using her weapons that he thought it would be a good hiding place for a ring.

Jade pauses her packing, finding the Cheshire mask at the bottom of the box. She lifts it up, the sharp edges digging into her palms as the empty grin mocks her. 

She’s known for months that her time was running out. Crusher warned her that the contract the Shadows put on her head was a big one, and if she cared at all about her daughter she’d leave her behind. Jade hadn’t wanted to believe it, made every excuse in the world to delay the inevitable. And now, just like that, the clock had gone down to zero. 

Accepting the ring, symbolic as it was, puts everyone in this house in danger. Her daughter doesn’t deserve that, Will, Artemis, she knows they’d fight for her. For the freedom she so desperately craves from the tangled life she’d spun for herself. 

She doesn’t want them to. Their safety, their freedom and happiness, who was she to ruin it?

Will would move on. He’d find a better woman, a better wife, one that doesn’t make him so miserable. One that would love their daughter and be an uncomplicated presence in both their lives. 

Lian was only two, with enough time she’d forget she ever existed. She’d have Atermis, and Will, and a whole slew of heroes at her disposal that will help raise her. They’ll keep her from the life that Jade had chosen. That would be enough. 

Jade grips the mask in her hands before placing it at the top of the duffel and zipping it shut. Her baseball cap is on the dresser, where Will had placed it this morning, asking her to put it away. She slips it over her head, lacing her ponytail through and ignoring the tears that slip down her cheeks. 

Without a second thought, she takes her things and leaves the house, her life, and her family behind.  It has to be enough.

Star City October 9th 21:16 PST Team Year Ten

Jade is used to the cold. She has to be, given that she spends far too much time traipsing around every corner of the world in a skimpy green kimono. Crusher used to train her and Artemis, having them stand outside in snowstorms for hours in nothing but their pajamas; he said it was to build up their endurance— she knew it was because he was an asshole. Either way, the training worked, and Jade rarely finds herself affected by the weather. 

Except in Star City, that is. 

The crisp evening air brings goosebumps to her skin, and she finds herself shaking. A pit of ice forms in her stomach, begging her to turn away, to seek shelter elsewhere. But Jade keeps moving one foot in front of the other, bringing herself closer. 

When she’s steps away from the door, she pauses. Her mind floods with thoughts and memories, the good and the bad, each brawling for her attention. Jade closes her eyes, letting her mind settle. She’s come a long way since the last time she was here. Instead of running for the hills, she takes a deep breath, remembering what Sensei taught her. The only one in her way is herself. Not her past, not her mistakes. Just herself, as she is.  

The last time she was here, Jade was all kinds of broken. A bullet wound in her shoulder, a tiredness that sleep could never soothe, and pain that no medication would take away. She’s still battered and bruised now, but there are no marks on her skin. It’s on the inside that she feels raw, clawed apart and aching with that same pain as she stands in front of the door of the house she avoided for so long. 

Jade rests her hand on the door, not quite ready to knock. It’s late, the house is dark and everyone should be asleep— so there’s no rush. She can take as long as she needs, hours, if that’s what it’ll take. Tonight she won’t run. She’s made up her mind, that she’s done running and she’s ready to try again. Some of her wounds will never heal, but some will, and being here will help her take the next step in her recovery.

Her ears prick at the sound of leaves cracking underfoot. He’s usually a lot sneakier than this, but maybe he wants her to hear him. Usually the thought of another confrontation with her husband would make Jade scramble, but she’s made her decision. So instead, she smiles, and turns her head to face him. 

“Still a lot warmer inside?” 

Will doesn’t close the distance between them. He’s apprehensive, carrying his shoulders stiffly in a way that Jade knows will bring only the deepest of knots. She doesn’t blame him. 

“We’ve done this before,” he says slowly, his eyes crinkling in concern. “And Lian, she isn’t a baby anymore, Jade.” 

“I know.” He’s putting their daughter first, and she loves him for that. Forgiveness will take time, and effort. She wasn’t willing to put in the work then, terrified of the risks and potential harm it would bring if she let herself love and be happy. She’s still scared, but she loves them more than she’s afraid of herself. “I’m tired of running,” Jade lets herself say, and it’s the truth. Her body hungers for home. 

His eyes widen. “Jade…” 

Jade closes the distance herself, stepping closer and letting her shoulders sink. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever been with him, making it clear that he’s the one who finally holds the cards. “I’m home,” she says softly, meeting his gaze. 

Will doesn’t say anything at first, and Jade has to keep from biting the inside of her cheek bloody. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he might turn her away, that he’d moved on. She can’t blame him if he has, but god does she hope that he hasn’t. 

Finally, he brings a hand to her cheek, his fingers caressing her with a gentleness that makes her want to cry. “For good?” he asks, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

Jade nods, melting into his touch and fighting the tears that threaten to spill over. “I’m home,” she repeats, because it’s all she can say without completely breaking down. Before she can process anything else, he’s pulled her into his arms, holding her there, outside the door. 

Later, they’ll work their way through the details. She’ll hold her daughter again for the first time in years, and they’ll figure out where to go from here. But for now, they don’t need to say anything else. No declarations of love, or working through their emotions in a conversation that’ll take hours— that’s not them. There’s a quiet understanding here, one that they’ve always had. So they stand, embracing each other underneath the moonlight, their future unknown and unclear as can be.

Texts: Andrea Giunta, Augustín Diez Fischer, Cora Gamarnik, José A. Sánchez, Leopoldo Maler, Miguel A. López, Pedro Asquini, Ruth Estévez