Jason followed Roy from Gotham. They cut through a shortcut he didn't know Roy knew about and hit the edge of town in record time. He followed the older man, curious as he pulled off at the edge of the interstate where three lanes turned into a traffic jam and came out as six lanes on the other end.

Roy drove with confidence, and Jason trusted him. They bypassed the gas stations and other roadside stops. They skirted around what passed for Gotham's attempt at a suburb. At this point, it mainly was run-down apartments and homes abandoned after foreclosure. Housing was just as expensive, if not more, outside the city limits, and it was just as shifty. You were more likely to be shot because it was a no man's land in terms of gang territory. The big names didn't care, and every druggie with a gun was out trying to claim a block. The Bats didn't patrol that far out normally, and the police would never make it in time if they came at all. It was a disaster. Not to mention anyone living out there had to commute into the city because the already shifty Gotham City public transportation wasn't coming to get you.

Eventually, Roy pulled off at a rundown gas station that sat about a mile out, looking over a landscape of nothing. It lined a rough road, worn with time, running off into the distance.

They headed inside, Roy already pulling his wallet. The man at the counter greeted Roy with a familiar nod, his gaze continued, and he ended up frowning at Jason. Maybe it was the day they've had, perhaps he grew as a person in the last few days, or maybe he was just tired of being angry right now. Jason frowned back, taking a beat to realize the man wasn't mad but confused. Like he was expecting someone else to be with Roy.

He watched Roy ignore the raised eyebrow as he slapped two twenties on the counter. The man rang them up in silence, passing back a receipt. Jason turned to leave, just at the door, when he heard it. Roy's voice barely above a whisper, "I messed up, but I'm working on it."

Jason doesn't hear if the man says anything back. He watched through the reflection of a display as the man nodded his head. The moment passed, and they left the building. Jason doesn't ask, and Roy doesn't answer. They topped off their tanks, giving the nozzle between the bikes in a comfortable silence. They leave in a cloud of dust.

They drove faster than Jason's mind could keep up. He lost himself in the road, going at a speed that meant all he could do was keep his mind on the here and now. He realized later that was Roy's intent; the man must have done this before.

It won't be until days later when Jason finally lets himself think about why. He'll remember Roy's previous announcement about finding a dealer how he'll settle for driving fast, redirecting himself. His familiarity with the route out of Gotham. The interaction with the man at the gas station. His mind whispers, "Dick Grayson," like that was all the answer he needed.

"We should probably figure out our next move," Roy said, fishing his keys out, helmet tucked under an arm.

Jason, following him up the stairs, agreed with a hum. "Alfred-"

Roy cut him off with a scoff, pulled from somewhere deep in his throat.

Jason grabbed him by the arm, turning Roy and pulling him to a stop. "Don't." He growled, voice low. It was on impulse, the need to protect colored by a vivid and distinct shade of green.

Roy studied Jason's face for a long moment, gaze drifting to the grip on his arm and back up again. "Let's have this conversation upstairs." He said, his tone even and light. It promised a long and unpleasant conversation. It felt both damning and apologetic to Jason's ears and left his stomach sinking.

Jason released his white-knuckled grip, realizing with a start just how tight he was holding onto his friend. He cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping up his neck in shame. "I was thinking of ordering from that one Korean Barbecue place for dinner," he said.

Roy nodded, turning again. He played with his keys, finding the deadbolt key.

Jason felt the stones dragging him down, and he slowed. It hit him; if he entered Roy's apartment, there was no going back.

Roy took the peace offering, oblivious to the panic happening behind him. He undid the deadbolt lock, then flicked through his keys for the door lock. "Only if we get extra sauce because I am -"

There was a crash from somewhere inside Roy's apartment.

They both tensed, any previous thought momentarily forgotten. They shifted for a fight. They were armed, prepared for anything during their trip to Gotham. Roy finished with the second lock, pushing the door open. They made it a few steps before Roy dropped his stance. He turned his head to the ceiling and signed. Jason cocked an eyebrow at the scene before them.

Roy's couch was pushed out from its spot, and every chair he owned was moved into the living room space and stacked up like towers. His coffee table was shoved up close to the TV. Blankets were strung between the chairs, the middle attached to the ceiling with one of Roy's putty arrows and tape. Wally and Garth glanced up from under the blanket fort, Friends running from where Roy had left off previously.

"Garth made mac and cheese," Wally announced, pointing towards the pot sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

Jason's stomach grumbled, and Roy sighed again.