By some miracle, Lian is still asleep when Roy wakes in the morning – maybe she's tired from the previous day, or maybe he's anxious from it, but whatever the deal is he's careful to open the door silently as he lets himself out of the bedroom to get some coffee. By the smell of it, Kaldur has already brewed some, or else –

"Morning, Red."

"Jesus," Roy swears, grabbing the doorframe to keep from falling over.

Jade sits with her feet up on his kitchen table, the front page of the newspaper fanned across her lap; Kaldur sits in the next chair over, perusing the editorials. And fuck, if that's not the weirdest thing Roy never thought he'd see.

"Sleep well?"

"Fine, thanks," Roy makes himself say as he shuts the bedroom door, his heartbeat erratic but slowing. "You were in the neighborhood, I take it?"

"This is his nice way of asking what the hell I'm doing here," Jade tells Kaldur, who just flicks his eyes up to show he heard, then looks back down at the paper. She looks back to Roy. "I missed you too, dear. Actually, I'm here about a call I got yesterday."

Roy looks around the kitchen, distracted.

"Yeah?" he says. "What kind of call?"

"From your darling friends over at the M&M Childcare Center," Jade says dryly (she's never been fond of the whole daycare thing, and has on numerous occasions tried to give Roy exorbitant amounts of illegally-obtained cash to convince him to quit his job and stay at home). "They say you had an incident."

Oh. Not thisshit.

"Nothing happened," says Roy, moving to get a mug from the cupboard. It's too early and he's too uncaffeinated to be dealing with this. "There was a security breach at their complex, but no one got hurt."

"That's all great, Red," Jade says. "Really, I'm glad to hear it. But you know, apparently you pulled a gun in front of a bunch of small children. And apparently many of them went home and mentioned this to their parents. And apparently, said parents aren't real crazy about the prospect of having a trigger-happy lunatic popping in to where they leave their kids for safekeeping every day."

"What? You're – " Roy splutters indignantly. "You've got to be joking. It was a hostage situation. There were dozens of cops with guns there."

"You're not a cop, Roy," says Jade. "You're a civilian."

"So?" Roy shoots back. "I knew what I was doing."

"Oh, great, I'll just go back and tell Melissa or Mandy or whatever that you 'knew what you were doing.' I'm sure they'll be so reassured."

"It's not like I pointed the gun at the kids."

"Point is," Jade says, pausing to let him know she's done with this particular line of bickering, "they've suggested you find somewhere else to dump Lian while you're off at your illustrious job."

Roy stops in the middle of pouring himself his coffee.

"What?"

"They're kicking you out."

"But I – " Roy begins, faltering. "Don't they like Lian?"

"Of course they like Lian," says Jade, rolling her eyes. "Everybody in the known universe likes Lian."

"Fuck," Roy mutters under his breath, pushing a hand through his hair. He hadn't realized this could happen, but now that he's thinking about it, if some other dad had showed up and drawn a weapon to do anything but directly defend the kids, he'd probably be getting Lian out of there, too. "I'll...I'll find a new place then, I guess."

What's he going to do about today, though? He doesn't have time to do the proper investigating, but he's not dumping his daughter with some random strangers, and there's absolutely no way he can take the day off, not with what happened yesterday.

"I already picked up her things, so you don't need to bother," Jade says, gesturing to a cloth bag that's sitting on the floor by the front door.

Roy looks at her.

"You broke in?"

"I certainly didn't break anything, but the place wasn't strictly open when I dropped by, if you want to get technical."

Roy notices Kaldur lifting one eyebrow as Jade speaks, though his eyes never lift from the newspaper – hard to tell if it's amusement or disapproval, but it's something.

"Look, I'll figure something out, okay, but I can't deal with this right now," Roy says, topping off his mug and leaning back against the kitchen table. "Can you stick around for today and keep an eye on her? She misses you."

Jade hesitates.

"I'm between assignments," she says finally. "I can put in some mother-daughter time today. But if I get a call, I'm gone."

"Contact one of her babysitters if that happens," says Roy, taking a sip and wincing. Jade did always like her coffee scalding. "Numbers are on the fridge."

"Fishsticks here can't look after a three-year-old for a few hours?"

Roy glances at Kaldur, who's looked up out of his paper at Jade's words.

"He's not here to babysit," Roy says – it feels rude to assume, and he doesn't want to ask, but also he's not sure how Lian would feel about that.

"It is fine," Kaldur says. "If she does not find it objectionable."

"Okay," says Roy, shrugging. It's one day – Lian will survive, if it even comes to that. "Well, great talk, but if you don't mind, I've got to get ready for work. It's lecture day."

"Breakfast is on the stove," says Kaldur, turning his attention back to his newspaper. "There should be enough for you and your daughter."

Jade snorts.

"You've trained him well," she remarks into her coffee.

"Chesh," Roy says warningly. "Don't start."

Just then, Roy's bedroom door creaks, and all three of them look over as one to the sight of Lian emerging into the common room, yawning and rubbing her eyes blearily.

"Good morning, Lian," says Jade.

And there, that's it – Jade's real smile, the one Roy fell in love with in some bleak, hopeless corner of the globe when everyone else in the world had given up on him, or so he thought.

Lian's eyes go so wide Roy's afraid they'll fall out of her head.

"Mommy!"

He turns to the stove to hide his own smile as his daughter rushes to throw her arms around her mother. The chatter is frantic and difficult to understand but unequivocally ecstatic, a unique combination of delight and incoherence that seems to be Lian's signature. Jade's response sounds more tempered, but Roy isn't fooled – she's as thrilled to see Li as Li is to see her.

He turns his attention to breakfast. On the range is a covered pan, in it bacon and eggs and two slices of toast, segregated neatly to keep them all fresh. For having been a cutthroat undersea mercenary for the last three years, Kaldur has retained a surprising degree of his old anal retentiveness. Roy isn't complaining, though, and he loads up a plate, grabs his coffee and takes a seat at the now-full table.

It's definitely the weirdest breakfast he's had this year. Lian is chatty, Jade is affectionate, Kaldur is silent and Roy is perplexed at how normal this feels. He literally can't remember a time when putting Jade and Kaldur in the same space didn't end with blows exchanged, yet here they are, barefoot in jeans and civilian shirts, sitting at his kitchen table like it's no big deal.

What happened down there?

The lecture is...well, it's definitely a lecture. He'll be docked three days' pay, he has to deliver a written apology to the client he freaked out, and if he ever "causes a scene" during an investment pitch again, he'll definitely be fired, but at the end of everything his boss does ask him how his daughter is doing and says she's glad everything turned out okay. All in all, he's just glad he's still employed.

He calls Jade at his coffee break to check in. Most of the time her cell phone isn't worth trying, but today she picks up, and informs him that she, Lian and Kaldur are in fact en route to a park, where they plan to have a picnic and "let Lian run around a bit."

"She's not a dog, you know," Roy tries to joke, but Jade has already hung up on him, probably just to prove she can.

He doesn't take it personally. He's learned better than to let her rile him up that easy.

At lunchtime, he gets another unexpected visitor.

"What is this, the Invasion of the Crocks?" he asks as Artemis appears in the doorway to his office, hands in the pockets of her green jacket, the one that looks a lot like Li's.

"Nice to see you too, Harper," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "How're you doing?"

Roy frowns.

"What do you mean, 'how am I doing?'"

Nothing happened.

She raises an eyebrow.

"You know, like, how's it going?" she says "Standard social small talk? Did that tradition change while I was under and no one told me?"

"Oh," says Roy. Oops. "Uh, Sorry, no, just...on edge because...never mind. What can I do for you?"

"Damn," Artemis remarks. "Customer service voice and everything."

"Oh, shut up."

"I was thinking lunch," she continues. "On me. And by on me I mean you'll pay for it with Dick's money."

"That sounds a lot like it's on me," Roy points out, rising from his desk.

"Whatever. You in?"

"Sure. Can't take forever, though, or my boss'll actually kill me."

Artemis straightens out as he approaches, turning to fall into step beside him.

"We can go someplace close."

They land at a Greek place a few blocks away, order food at the counter, and park themselves in a corner booth to wait for it. Artemis drums her fingers restlessly on the tabletop; Roy checks his phone to make sure everything at home is still fine, then looks back up to his sister-in-law (well, ex-sister-in-law, but whatever).

"West couldn't make it?" he asks, tucking his phone away.

"He's in class," says Artemis. "And he has some big experiment to prep after that. He won't be home until after dinner. Didn't feel like hanging around the apartment by myself."

"Don't you have a dog or something?"

"We went for a four-mile this morning," Artemis shrugs. "Apparently that pooped him out. And he's more Wally's dog than mine, anyway."

"Yeah, well, for a while..."

"I know."

There's a brief, awkward silence.

"Jade's here," Roy remarks. "If you didn't know."

"I did," says Artemis. "I'll probably go join them after we're done here, but I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Should I be nervous?"

"No," says Artemis, and just then, the server arrives with their food. It smells good – Roy doesn't do a whole lot of eating out (not on a single parent budget), but now that he's being unofficially sponsored by Wayne Enterprises, he could try it more, maybe.

"What were you saying?" he asks a moment later, mouth full of grilled lamb.

Artemis finishes loading a piece of pita with hummus before she answers.

"How's he doing?"

"Who, Kaldur?" Roy asks, even though he doesn't know who else she could be talking about.

"Yeah. He's been at your place like a month now. How is he?"

"I don't know," says Roy, not sure why he's the one getting these questions. "He's quiet, most of the time. Reads a lot. Keeps my house neater than Hitler. Couldn't you just ask him?"

"No," says Artemis, "because you should know better than anyone that he won't tell the truth."

"He might tell you," Roy suggests. "You guys seem...close. Closer."

"He won't," Artemis says firmly. "I've tried. He shuts me out, same as everybody else. I think he wants me to focus on my own readjustment."

"That's not a bad idea," Roy remarks quietly. He knows it's probably not his place, but...still. Fuck it. It needs to be said.

"You got something to say to me, Harper?"

"What were you doing out there yesterday?" he asks, reaching for the pita bread. "I thought you were getting out of the life."

Artemis leans back, eyeing him, and he feels her put her feet up on his side of the booth.

"Wally's in the lab or the lecture hall fourteen hours a day," she says. "I'm not in school, I don't have a job, all my friends have spent the last two years thinking I was dead, so it's a little awkward to just pop over and try to hang out. I...I get bored, okay? Palo Alto has a really disappointingly low crime rate, if you don't count underage drinking."

Roy nods, mulling that over.

"Does Wally know?"

Artemis scowls at him.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," she says. "He knows."

"Look," Roy says, trying to figure out the best way to say this, "I'm not trying to get all up in your face or tell you how you should be living your life. But Wally is my friend, and while I may not have been in on everything that's happened the last few years, I don't think it's up for debate that your stint undercover was really hard on him. I'm just trying to look out for him. That's all."

"And I'm just trying to look out for Kaldur."

"No offense, but Kaldur seems like the kind of guy who can look out for himself."

"We both know it's not a question of if he can," says Artemis. "But if you think you understand what he gave up to go under, you have noidea what he gave up to come back."

Roy frowns.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Artemis says. "Maybe you should ask him."

"Oh, because you know he'd just leap at the chance to share his deepest feelings with me, of all people," says Roy, rolling his eyes. "He didn't even tell me stuff when we were friends, apparently."

Artemis is silent for a second.

"I take it he came out to you, then?" she asks finally.

"Yeah," says Roy, trying not to sound bitter because really, mostly, he's not. Mostly. "How long have you known?"

"I think a better question is how long he's known," says Artemis. "But that's really not the point, here. Please, just...take him out for a drink or something. Show him he has the option of talking to someone, at least, even if he doesn't take it."

Roy raises an eyebrow.

"And am I supposed to take my two-and-a-half-year-old to the bar with me, or what?"

"I'll watch her," Artemis says. "I'll have Wally come up and do it with me. It'll be fun for us. Besides, from what I hear about your end yesterday, you could probably stand to have a few drinks, too."

"I'm really done talking about yesterday," says Roy flatly.

"Fine," says Artemis, setting down her fork. "But I'm serious. Friday night? He's got his checkup tomorrow."

Roy sighs.

"Fine."

"Thank you," says Artemis, catching him off guard with the sincerity of his tone as she reaches across the table and touches his hand. He looks away uncomfortably.

"Whatever."

By the time he gets home, Jade is gone. He shouldn't be surprised, but it doesn't stop him from feeling a little pang of disappointment – he'd hoped they could get some time to talk, but that's rarely in the cards these days. At least he knows she's alive. More importantly, at least Lian got to spend some time with her mom.

Predictably, Lian herself is bouncing off the walls as Roy lets himself into the apartment, and upon noticing his entrance, she lets out a truly loud shriek and bounds over to throw her arms around his leg.

"Hey there," he chuckles as he recoils from his wince, ears still ringing. "Had a good day, I take it?"

"Mommy camed!" she exclaims, rapidly shifting her weight from one foot to the other and craning her head back to look up at him. It's like she just can't contain all her energy. "We went to the park!"

"I know," Roy laughs, crouching and ruffling her hair. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!" she beams. "Yes yes yes!"

Roy looks over his head to where Kaldur is standing at the kitchen counter, currently placing the lid on the blender. Whatever is in it is very green, and whatever is on the stove smells damn good.

"Glad to hear it," he smiles, looking back down at his daughter and planting a quick kiss on her nose. "Listen, how would you like to have your Auntie Artemis come visit day after tomorrow?"

Lian's eyes widen. It's like double Christmas, judging by her face.

Her mouth opens, but sensing another shriek on the way, Roy claps a hand over it to stifle the sound, then sweeps her up and carries her over to the kitchen so he can set her down on the counter. She giggles wildly, used to being tossed around ("that's what you got for being so cute and tossable," Roy used to tell her).

"Before that, though, tonight is bath night," he says seriously as he reaches to hang up his keys on their wall hook.

It's amazing how quickly her expression darkens. She folds her arms over her chest sternly.

"Mommy said I didn't have to bath."

"Did she now?" Roy says skeptically.

"She did," says Kaldur, not looking up from the blender.

"Hey!" Roy says sharply, looking over at the Atlantean.

"I am not saying tonight is not bath night," Kaldur says, hitting a button on the blender that makes it whirr to life. "Only that Lian is not wrong about her mother's edict."

"Edict?" echoes Lian confusedly.

"He means you have to take a bath," Roy says, capitalizing on her limited vocabulary. "After dinner. No buts."

Lian giggles.

"Butts," she echoes.

Roy groans.

"Really?"

"It appears she has your sense of humor," Kaldur remarks.

"That's not my sense of humor," Roy objects. "That's Robin and Wally, all the way. We were the 'no humor at all' club, remember?"

Kaldur smiles almost imperceptibly as he turns off the blender and takes off the top, sticking a spoon inside to push down whatever it is he's making.

"Yes," he says. "Yes we were."

Dinner, apparently, is pasta with broccoli pesto, which by some miracle Lian consents to eat once they've dumped enough parmesan on it. Roy's proud of the culinary progress he's made since fatherhood was sprung on him, but he has to admit it's nice to have a little variety, not to mention have someone else doing the actual cooking. He interviews Lian about their day at the park, asks Kaldur for clarification when she's confusing, and when it's all done, he promises Li a scoop of ice cream in exchange for a drama-free bath, to which she reluctantly consents.

As he goes to bed later, shirt only a tiny bit damp and eardrums largely intact, he finds himself thanking god for ice cream.

Dinah comes to pick up Lian in the morning – Roy still hasn't had time to research new daycare options, and even if he were inclined to ask Kaldur to look after her, it's Thursday, the day of the Atlantean's weekly medical checkup at the Cave, so that's a nonstarter. There's the usual kerfuffle about what toys will accompany Lian to her auntie and uncle's house, then they're out the door, leaving Roy to pack a quick lunch and hit the road himself.

Work is uneventful, traffic is aggravating, life is normal. Roy returns home nine hours later to an empty house, which is deeply, deeply weird. He hasn't really ever had time to himself since Li came along, but a message from Dinah on his answering machine informs him that they're keeping her for dinner, so he decides he may as well enjoy himself and cracks open two beers at once, one porter and one IPA. Moderation be damned.

By the time Dinah brings Lian home, the latter is nearly asleep, clutching drowsily to her auntie's hand as she sways in the doorway.

"Oliver wore her out for you," Dinah explains, giving Lian's hand a little squeeze. "Not coincidentally, he's strained his back again."

"Pony rides?" Roy guesses, and gets an amused nod in response. "Well, tell Gramps his sacrifice is appreciated."

After a little chitchat, Dinah takes her leave, promising to be in touch about various things like helping him find a new daycare center and teaching him to braid hair in a way that isn't aesthetically horrifying, and he's left alone with Lian.

He puts her to bed with no story since she's actually asleep before he even finishes tucking her in, then he heads out to the living room to enjoy another beer and the evening news. Artemis is at it again, it seems – they're playing a few shots of her taking names outside a parking structure as the police pull up. Apparently she interrupted a major cocaine deal or something, and now there's speculation about what she's doing here, since she was supposed to be dead and all. Roy ponders his own empty bed and wonders if being with a Crock /Nguyen sister is basically a sentence to a lifetime of loneliness. Then he hears a car door shut outside, interrupting his thoughts, and knows Kaldur is back.

"Hey," he greets as the door opens a moment later. "How'd it go?"

The door slides shut and the lock is flipped before he gets a response.

"Well."

Roy turns his head to look to the doorway. Kaldur has two books under one arm and a small brown paper bag in the opposite hand. He's still on one crutch, but something is different about his leg.

"New splint?" Roy speculates. It looks less...totalitarian. A little subtler. Less like it's trying to eat his whole damn leg.

"Yes," Kaldur confirms. "The break above the knee is nearly healed."

"Oh?" says Roy. "How many breaks were there to begin with?"

"Three."

Roy grimaces.

"Ouch. That's some impressive heal time, in that case."

"Zatanna consented to assist with medicinal sorcery," says Kaldur. "It has sped the process considerably."

"Oh," says Roy, nodding. "I hear that stuff hurts like a mother."

Kaldur raises his eyebrows without comment and sets his books down on the kitchen table, which Roy takes as an acknowledgement that yes, indeed, magically accelerated healing is not exactly a day at the spa.

"Want a beer or something?" Roy asks instead of pressing further, squinting into the last of his own. He almost feels tipsy. Clearly his tolerance is shot to hell – back in the day he could put back four or five before he felt anything.

Kaldur reaches down to pull off his shoes, a feat made a little more difficult by the fact that he still can't really bend his right leg. When he's finally managed it, he straightens out, looking around the apartment as if it will furnish an answer.

"Yes," he says at last. "If you do not mind."

"'Course not. Grab any from the fridge," Roy offers. "The porter's good."

They settle in. Roy leaves the TV on, since it'll offer a convenient distraction in the event that the conversation dies, which it probably will.

"How's everyone at the Cave?" Roy asks as Kaldur carefully lifts his leg up onto the coffee table. "Still fighting the good fight?"

"Apparently so," says Kaldur, cracking the top off his beer and setting the cap aside. Roy tries not to raise his eyebrows – that beer wasn't a twist-off. That's some frightening hand strength right there.

"Probably clamoring to get you back in the game, huh?" he asks, glancing down at his own hands – could he have done that, back in his heyday? Probably not. "Now that you're back on this side of justice."

Kaldur shrugs and lifts his beer to his lips, taking a quick sip.

"Nightwing is a capable leader," he says.

"I mean, I wasn't saying he's not," says Roy, finishing off his own bottle. "And besides, I'd more expect you to join the League than the Team after all this, right? You're what now, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three," Kaldur corrects.

"Time flies," says Roy, shrugging. "But my point stands."

"I do not intend to join the League, no," Kaldur says. "My presence would be...complicated, politically speaking."

Roy looks over at that, but he's not totally convinced.

"Not even after some time, though?" he asks. "When everything's had a chance to blow over a bit?"

"There is no wind underwater,'" Kaldur remarks, and Roy can hear the sarcasm, however restrained, in his tone. "Hence things in Atlantis tend not to 'blow over,' as you put it."

Roy looks back down.

"Proud culture thing again, huh?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy sees Kaldur giving him a look.

"I knew the price of my actions when I committed to them," says Kaldur. "Had I been unwilling to pay it, I would not have undergone such a mission."

Toying with his empty beer bottle, Roy resists the urge to roll his eyes at the sheer repetitiousness of these conversations, which always seem to end with some variation of Kaldur's statement. But then it occurs to him that the Atlantean may be repeating the acceptance of his exile less to state a fact than to make one – the more he says he's fine with how things turned out, the closer he'll get to believing it.

"Well, s'probably too soon to worry about any of that anyway," Roy shrugs, and turns his eyes back to the TV. "Given you're still on three legs and all. Listen, tomorrow night, Artemis and Wally are coming over to look after Li for a bit. You wanna grab a proper drink? There's a bar just a few blocks away, shouldn't be too rough of a walk, even with your leg. Or we could take a cab, I guess."

Kaldur stares at him blankly.

"Great," says Roy, rising from the couch. "That's settled, then."

Kaldur snorts into his beer.

"Apparently it is," he says as Roy heads for the kitchen. "I hope Artemis bought you lunch before coercing you into such a plan, at least."

Roy pauses, back still turned, deciding whether or not to comment, then shrugs and goes to recycle his beer.

"It's been a hell of a week," he says, opening the cabinet and reaching in. "I need an actual drink. If you don't want to go, don't go. I've been drinking alone for the last five years. Having a few more shots with the barkeep isn't going to kill me."

"No, I will accompany you," says Kaldur, "if the offer was sincere."

Roy closes the cupboard and steps back, looking around the kitchen to see if anything else needs putting away, but of course it doesn't – Kaldur lives here now.

"Okay," he says. "Yeah, it was. Tomorrow night, then?"

"Tomorrow night."

The following evening, Artemis and Wally arrive right at six, and they all eat together, crowded around Roy's modest kitchen table with Lian in her high seat and the rest of them seated on some very mismatched chairs. It's probably the most people Roy's ever had over at once, at least since the days when Dick and Wally and Kaldur would come over for pizza and video games. Predictably, that thought gives Roy all kinds of weird feelings about Change and Getting Older, which he suppresses by stuffing his face with chili and inquiring after Wally's latest scientific pursuits.

Afterwards, Roy and Kaldur take their leave, leaving Lian squealing with delight as Wally performs some sleight of hand he learned from Zatanna and Artemis watches on fondly from the couch. The evening is cool and foggy, as Star City often is, and they don't talk as they make their way down the block towards Mission street, Roy carefully matching his pace to Kaldur's methodical limp. Then, five blocks and fifteen minutes later, Roy is leading the way into the pub, a hole-in-the-wall kind of place he discovered when he first moved to the apartment about a year prior.

"What do you want?" Roy asks Kaldur, pulling out his wallet as he looks over the beers they have on tap. Not a bad selection, but he's got beer at home.

"I am not particular," Kaldur says as he looks around the place. Roy has to bite back a comment – the way the Atlantean's gaze is systematically carding through the bar's patronage is all too familiar. It's a habit he only recently dropped himself – spot trouble before it's trouble, Ollie used to tell him. It'll save you some at the end of the day. Honestly, though, this place is pretty tame, not exactly the divey kind of joint he used to frequent back when he was trying to piss off the grownups. There's probably nothing to worry about.

Making his way to the counter, Roy catches the bartender's eye and makes an impulsive order: two tequila shots and two bourbons, neat. He opens a tab, maneuvers the four glasses into his hands, and catches Kaldur's eye.

"Booth?" he suggests – it's a Friday, reasonably crowded, but there's a group in the corner that looks like they're on their way out.

Kaldur nods, following him over, and after a moment of hovering they're sliding in across from one another. Pushing one of the tequila shots across the table, Roy salts his hand, picks up the other and hesitates.

"To your recovery," he says, figuring the onus is on him to provide the toast, since he bought the shots.

Kaldur shrugs and lifts the glass to his lips, downing the drink and setting it aside. Roy licks the salt form his hand, then follows suit and throws his back, making a face as it burns on the way down – it's been a while since he's done this. Kaldur used to be the one to make the faces. Roy reaches for the lime slice on the edge of the glass gratefully.

"So," he says when just the rind is left, "I take it you've developed a taste for liquor while you were away. They drink a lot, down on the sub?"

Kaldur eyes him levelly from across the table for a moment.

"At certain times, yes," he answers. "Though generally, Father keeps strict control of the crew. Spirits are permitted only on leisure days, which are few and far between. But such occasions are indeed bacchanalian."

Roy lifts an eyebrow.

"Baccha-what?"

"Bacchanalian," Kaldur repeats. "Wild. Indulgent."

"I'll never understand how English is your second language and yet your vocabulary is still better than mine."

"The order in which languages are learned matters little compared to when one begins learning them," says Kaldur. "You are still fluent in Navajo, yes?"

"Yeah," says Roy, a little surprised that Kaldur remembers that. It's something very few people knew about him in the first place. "Okay. Fine. Still, you use a lot of fancy words."

"My apologies."

"That's not – never mind."

With a sigh, Roy picks up his bourbon and swills it around the glass before taking a sip.

"Jade seems well," Kaldur remarks.

Roy looks up.

"Does she?" he asks. Somehow, it's weird to hear Kaldur use her given name. Before, he always used to call her Cheshire. "Feels like I hardly see her these days. But yeah, I guess she looked good on Wednesday. Not as banged up as she sometimes is after her assignments."

"I take it the two of you have given up on working through your marital difficulties, then."

Roy laughs, though the sound is a little forced, even to his own ears.

"Nah, we called it quits about a year ago," he says. "Christmas before last, I think. Apparently we're legally divorced now, but I'm not sure we were really legally married in the first place – not really clear on how American courts deal with spur-of-the-moment weddings in the seedy part of Rome. Doesn't really matter, I guess. She drops by to check in on Li every so often, and we'll talk, but..."

He trails off, unsure what to say. He's still not sure how he feels about his so-called marriage, even more than a year after its conclusion. He definitely loved Jade when he married her, and maybe he still loves her now, but it's all become too tangled up with other things, ugly things. And really, as long as she lives the life she lives, uses people the way she does, he can't quite bring himself to let her too close again.

"I see," says Kaldur.

"How about you?" Roy asks, for lack of a better next topic. "Anything...I don't know, what's your love life like these days?"

Even as the words are leaving his mouth, Roy wants to kick himself – could he have asked a dumber question? Kaldur's been on an enemy submarine for the last three years, not on a goddamn singles cruise.

But then Kaldur looks down at the glass between his hands and remarks off-handedly,

"There was a man, on the sub."

"What?"

"On the sub," Kaldur repeats, looking back up at him. "A captain, long trusted by my father, eight years my senior. We had a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Oh," says Roy. He has absolutely no idea how to handle this. This was the last thing he expected to hear. Also, what the hell does Kaldur mean, a 'mutually beneficial arrangement?' "What...what was he like?"

"Committed," Kaldur replies, after a moment's hesitation. "Focused. Loyal to his cause."

Roy raises an eyebrow.

"Sounds familiar."

Kaldur shrugs.

Roy struggles for words, running a finger around the rim of his glass, then asks cautiously:

"Do you...miss him?"

"That would be foolish," Kaldur replies. "Our relationship was not predicated on affection, or even on passion."

"Oh?" says Roy. "Then what was the attraction?"

"Convenience," says Kaldur. "Release."

Roy lifts an eyebrow.

"That's pretty cold, even for you."

Kaldur's gaze does not waver, yet somehow, Roy gets the feeling he's annoyed. The Atlantean reaches for his bourbon and drinks half the glass in one go, then to Roy's surprise, he flags down a passing waitress and orders two more shots of tequila.

"Going hard tonight, huh?" Roy asks, sipping his own drink.

"If your plan is to make further inane remarks, then yes, certainly."

Roy bites back a sigh, wondering if this whole night out thing was a bad idea. As Kaldur so kindly reminded him a few weeks ago, they're not friends anymore, and it seems that whatever temper Roy lost these last four years, Kaldur gained. This probably wasn't what Artemis had in mind. But with more drinks on the way...

"How was that comment off base?" Roy asks, settling back against the booth and frowning. "You just said you slept with a guy for what, years, just because it was 'convenient.' That's textbook coldhearted."

"If it had slipped from your recollection," says Kaldur coolly, "for the full sum of my time with my father's operation, I was not permitted the luxury of personal indulgences, least of all privacy or honesty."

"Fine," says Roy. "Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to piss you off. What was his name?"

"Matthias," says Kaldur.

He takes another drink, seeming to have accepted Roy's question as a peace offering, which it was. Roy himself is saved the trouble of responding by their waitress, who appears just then with the shots Kaldur ordered.

"To...?" Roy begins, offering Kaldur the next toast.

"To loyalty," says Kaldur.

Hesitating with his glass in the air, Roy watches Kaldur's expression, looking for some sign of what he meant by that, but he's never been an easy read. Now, with half his face marred with still-healing scars and one eye partially clouded, it's even harder than before. Roy takes the shot, but is left wondering if he caught in Kaldur's tone some of the same self-flagellating despondency with which he used to speak after missions gone badly, when he was tucking every failure away in his heart to pore over when everyone else had gone.

"What's the prognosis on the eye?" Roy asks instead, dropping his finished lime into the now-empty shot glass. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Much of the damage is irreparable," says Kaldur. "But Miss Beecher and Dr. Palmer have indicated that it would not be impossible for them to restore some degree of vision to it, given the opportunity."

"Great," says Roy. "You plan to take them up on that, then?"

"It hardly matters."

"You say that a lot."

"Lying is no longer required of me."

Roy finishes off his bourbon, already feeling the effects of the two liquors hitting his system – it's a good buzz for now, a warm buzz, one that takes the edge off of Kaldur's harsh last words.

"Well," he says. "Good to have the option, in any case."

There's a brief lull. Both of them drink.

"Have you secured another facility to care for your daughter?" Kaldur asks, changing the topic.

"Not yet," says Roy. Right. He needs to get on that. "I was going to look around for one on the weekend. I figure if nothing else, I can bring her to the Cave tomorrow. Someone'll be there who can keep an eye on her, probably."

"Is your reluctance to ask me to supervise her a matter of politeness?" Kaldur asks. "Or do you fear I would be an unsuitable caregiver, for whatever reason?"

"I – " Roy begins, faltering. Once again, he's again caught off guard by Kaldur's directness.

"I would not be offended by the latter," Kaldur adds. "Your concerns would all be quite valid."

"No," says Roy. "No, that's not it, not entirely, I just...I don't know, it's probably a little bit of both. I didn't want you to think I'd offered to have you stay with us just so you'd watch her. And I think she might still be a little uncomfortable around you, so..."

And really, I barely know you at all at this point, if I ever knew you in the first place.

"I understand," says Kaldur, setting his glass aside. "You do not need to justify yourself."

"You want another round?" Roy asks, noting the empty tumbler.

"Possibly," says Kaldur. "Does this locale stock sæstrus?"

"Is that that Atlantean liquor that you made me try one time?" Roy asks. "The stuff that's so thick you have to eat it with a spoon, and tastes like the ocean and the sewer had an ugly bastard child?"

Kaldur nods, unperturbed by the discourteous description.

"No idea," says Roy. "Let me go ask."

He slides out of the booth and makes his way over to the bar, where he waits his turn to order with his hands in his pockets, casually checking out the rest of the patronage. A few times here, women have offered to buy him drinks, or implied that he should buy them some, or even just straight up given him their numbers. There are a few ladies his age around tonight, but no one approaches him as he pulls out his wallet and investigates his cash supply – whether it's the vibe of the evening or the large, scarred, musclebound man accompanying him, he's not sure. Oh well. Not like he could bring anyone home, anyway. He hasn't for months. Fatherhood does require sacrifice.

He returns to the booth a moment later, a glass in each hand – more bourbon for him, 120-proof toxic sea sludge for Kaldur.

"I assume you asked because you wanted some," he says, setting the cup down in front of the Atlantean.

Nodding his gratitude, Kaldur lifts the glass to his nose and breathes deeply, his eyes shutting as he inhales the scent. Roy watches him, thumb brushing down the smooth side of his own glass, recalling this facial expression from Before.

"So," he says, when Kaldur has taken his first sip (slowly – the jellylike texture of sæstrus doesn't make for a quick drink). "You bring up Lian for a reason?"

"Yes," says Kaldur. "If it is convenient, and if she is not averse to it, you may leave her with me while you are at work."

Well. There it is.

"Yeah?" Roy asks, a little skeptically. "You sure?"

"It will be little different from what I do now," says Kaldur, shrugging. "I assume she does not need to be continually amused."

"Definitely not," Roy agrees. "She's pretty good at entertaining herself, long as you don't mind sudden loud noises or being occasionally drafted to read a book."

"Yes, well, I have dealt with more vexing problems in recent history," says Kaldur dryly.

"Okay," says Roy, leaning back against the booth and picking up his glass. Yeah, he's definitely starting to feel a little buzzed. "Well, if you really don't mind, I'll bring it up with her tomorrow, see what she thinks."

Kaldur nods, returning to his liquor for a moment before he lifts his eyes back up.

"She seems...strong-willed," he remarks. "Like her mother. Like you."

Roy chuckles into his bourbon, raising an eyebrow – Kaldur's got him there.

"Yeah. Genetics, I guess."

The evening wears on. Lian turns out to be a versatile enough topic – Kaldur inquires how Roy came to be her legal guardian, how he learned to care for an infant, how he came to the decision to be a full-time father, to leave behind the mask and the bow. (That last part's harder to discuss than Roy wants to admit. He tells Kaldur all the things he tells himself, but they're harder to believe when he's drunk, and he can feel the truth lingering on his lips, anxious to be spoken.)

"This wasn't a total disaster," Roy opines as they finish their last round around eleven thirty, having decided it's getting late for old farts to be out drinking.

"No," Kaldur agrees, reaching for his crutch.

"Might even wanna do it again sometime," says Roy. He glances down at Kaldur's two empty glasses of sæstrus. "If you promise not to drink that shit in front of me."

"I sincerely apologize for your unsophisticated taste in liquor," Kaldur deadpans, shifting out of the booth and rising shakily upright. Roy begins to reach out a hand to steady him, but pulls it back. Kaldur doesn't need his help, and what's more, he wouldn't want it.

"I'm gonna go close the tab," says Roy. "Be right back."

He maneuvers his way through the pub, which is more crowded now than it was when they arrived; there are already people sliding into the booth they've just vacated, and an unruly line has formed at the bar counter.

As he's waiting, something catches his eye – two men, trim and dark-skinned, standing near the door, their eyes sifting through the crowd as though they're looking for something, or someone. Something about their posture – straight and still and coiled tight – puts him on edge. Then suddenly, he feels someone step up beside him, and Kaldur's voice murmurs in his ear,

"Do not look at me, and do not respond."

Roy looks down at his watch and back up, a meaningless gesture on the small scale, but a nod on the larger. In his peripheral vision, he can see Kaldur standing just close enough to be heard, eyes deliberately focused on the wall in front of them.

"They are my father's men," Kaldur continues, lips barely moving as he speaks in a low voice. "I doubt their intent is violent, but it would be best if they thought us unassociated. Pay your tab and go. I will see what they want and follow in time. Do you understand?"

Roy checks his watch again to show he does. The line shuffles forward.

As they approach the counter, he glances at Kaldur as if to figure out which of them is first in line, and for a split second their eyes meet. He wants to say something – be safe, or be careful, or just good luck – but he trusts the other man's judgment, so instead he just steps forward to claim his spot in the queue, leaving Kaldur to slip in behind him, and the moment is over.

Before long he's stepping out into the night air, credit card reclaimed and sizeable bar tab paid. He walks a few brisk blocks, then stops to pull his cell phone from his jacket pocket.

"Hey," Artemis greets after a few rings. She sounds calm, relaxed. Lian must be asleep. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," says Roy, "but we have a situation. I think."

He fills her in as quickly as he can. She asks for descriptions of the men, which Roy gives, but they're not as detailed as she seems to need; he only got a glimpse of them across a crowded room, after all.

"Okay," Artemis says – Roy can hear her moving in the background, saying things in a low voice, presumably to Wally. "I'm coming, quick as I can. Should be there within five."

"What should I do?" Roy asks. For him, it's a question hard-learned. "Should I go back to the bar?"

"No," says Artemis. "He won't be there now, anyway. They'll have taken him someplace more private. Come home. If I need backup I'll radio for GA or Canary."

Roy doesn't like that answer. He wants to do something, not be some useless schmuck like he was at the daycare center. But he recognizes the wisdom in both Kaldur's and Artemis's words – if he gets involved undisguised, he's putting his whole family at risk. So instead he gives his assent, hangs up, and heads for home, his strides long and tense and not entirely linear (six drinks will do that to you).

"Welcome back," says Wally as Roy lets himself in some ten minutes later. The speedster (well, ex-speedster? he can still run, he just doesn't) is seated at the kitchen table, the remains of what looks to have been a brownie sundae in front of him.

"Hey, West," Roy greets. "Any word?"

"Not yet," says Wally. "Not worried, though. Artie's worth six of those guys."

"I don't doubt it," says Roy. "But Kaldur's not exactly in top shape right now, between his leg and the whole hydrokinesis thing."

"I wouldn't worry about him, either," says Wally. "You know he took down Superboy one-on-one while he was undercover, right? He could probably handle two henchmen with his left pinky and an eyelash or two."

"If you say so," says Roy, trying not to think about it. Is he actually worried, or is he just feeling left out? "Li give you any trouble?"

"Oh, tons," Wally grins, scraping the bottom of his sundae bowl. "We sent her off to Baby Reve Correctional Facility. She'll be back in three years."

"Hilarious," says Roy, rolling his eyes.

"I try."

Roy sinks into the chair opposite Wally, feeling...well, there isn't a better word than weird. The two of them got into the game before Kaldur or Artemis, made their names as some of Earth's first apprentice-heroes (even now, Roy thinks of "sidekick" as a four-letter word). Yet here they are, sitting uselessly in his apartment while a clear and present danger looms outside.

"Look, they'll be fine," Wally says, seeming to sense Roy's unease. "From what Artemis was saying on her way out the door, it might not even be a fight. They could just want to talk."

"Yeah, because what evil goons always want to do is talk," says Roy sarcastically.

Wally shrugs.

"I don't know," he says. "I'm told these aren't your average evil goons."

Roy doesn't ask what that means, but instead rises and crosses the kitchen to the refrigerator, where he reaches up to open the cupboard above it. The communicator is in there, blinking its steady red beat. Plucking it from its perch, Roy shuts the cupboard and returns to the table, where he sets the device down in the dead center and hesitates.

Wally raises an eyebrow at him. Roy ignores it, takes a breath, then flicks the switch on the side. Immediately, the red light blooms green, and a faint static sound breathes from the speakers. The sound hits him like the sight of a needle. Heroin, heroing – it's no coincidence that Roy's two greatest addictions are only one letter apart.

"See?" Wally says, after a moment goes by and there's still nothing but static. "They're probably fine."

"Okay," Roy sighs, plopping back into his chair. "God, I need a drink."

"Looks like you've already had several, if you don't mind me saying," Wally teases, kicking him lightly under the table.

"Shut up, West."

"Love you too, buddy."

After what seems like an age but turns out to be only about forty minutes, the porch steps creak and a short rap on the door breaks the silence that's grown between the two redheads in the kitchen. Roy's head, dropped onto his chest as he dozes, jerks up, but it's Wally who speeds over to the door and opens it first.

"Evening, gentlemen," Artemis says, withdrawing her bow from inside the trenchcoat she's donned and hanging it on the hook where Roy keeps his keys.

"Don't do that," he mutters, but it's halfhearted. He totally used to do that too.

"Back in one piece, I see," says Wally as he shuts the door after Kaldur.

"It would seem so."

Roy looks the two of them up and down, but there's no sign they ran into any trouble. Their clothes aren't even disturbed, and Artemis's hair is still perfectly sleek in its customary ponytail.

"Not an eventful conversation, I take it?" he remarks.

"No, it was," says Artemis. "But we'll catch you up on that tomorrow. It's late, and Captain Geniuspants here has a big experiment to run tomorrow."

"7 AM to 9 PM," Wally grins. "Can't wait."

"I think he's serious," Roy says to Artemis concernedly.

"Oh, he is."

"Shall we hit the road, babe?" Wally proposes, tossing the car keys up and down.

And with little ado, they're off, Artemis folding her bow down to its compact state and stashing it in Wally's backpack. How does it work, Roy wonders as he locks the door after them, to have a household half in the game and half out of it? Can it work?

"They seem cheerful enough," he remarks to Kaldur. An engine comes to life outside, signaling the departure of their friends.

"Enough," Kaldur agrees, and disappears into his room.

Roy stares after him a moment. It feels anticlimactic, somehow, for all of the night's events to end with a shut door and a single word. But when he slips into his own room to the sight of his daughter sleeping peacefully, he's reminded of why he chose an anticlimactic life in the first place.

Even so, he doesn't bother to turn the communicator off before he goes to bed.