Swish, spit, repeat.

Roy took a moment to think about how remarkably weird the fairly mundane act of brushing his teeth in the bathroom of a junked-out spaceship on the beach of a deserted island actually was. In a way, it kind of reminded him of tooling around in the Pequod back in the good old Outsiders days. Especially when he and Grace Choi would sneak off after missions to the back of the ship and…

He wondered where Grace and the others were nowadays. Were Grace and Anissa still together? He considered asking Dick sometime, but realized Dick probably knew even less than he did about the now defunct team. Even at best, Dick's heart had never really been in it.

As he looked down to stow his toothbrush under the sink, one of the bullet scars on his chest caught his eye. He brushed it lightly with his fingertips, and felt his pulse quicken fractionally. Okay, so maybe his Outsiders days hadn't been all fun and games, and the five healed bullet holes in his torso were a constant reminder of that. Quickly, he grabbed his shirt off the floor and yanked it over his head.

At that exact moment, there was a loud bang and the bathroom door burst inward, catching Roy across the face. His hand flew to his cheekbone and for a moment he only stared at the intruder. For a moment the intruder, a young Quraci soldier with a rather impressive looking rifle, only stared back. Roy slowly lowered his hand and the soldier leveled his rifle with Roy's chest.

"I've located the American interloper!" he shouted, briefly glancing away from Roy, toward whoever he'd come with.

His next statement was aimed directly at Roy. "Move and you die, Roy Harper."

His initial shock worn off, Roy shrugged casually. "From the look of it, I die no matter what. That sound about right?"

Instead of waiting for the soldier to formulate a response, he ducked forward, shoved the barrel of the gun upward where a single shot ripped harmlessly through the ceiling, and shoved an elbow into his adversary's throat. They stumbled backward into the hallway, where the soldier's head cracked loudly against the wall, and Roy took his chance to sprint for the exit.

Another soldier rounded the corner in front of him, and Roy froze. He backed away slowly, really regretting not taking the first soldier's gun when he had the chance, and smacked straight into another soldier. He cried out as a hood was yanked over his head and he was thrown to the floor, his knees smacking hard against the metal. Someone roughly yanked his arms behind him and handcuffed him, then quickly emptied his pockets, pulling out a screwdriver, a set of allen wrenches, a lighter, and a small pocket knife.

Roy's thoughts raced almost as fast as his heart.

How did they find me here? Is this how I die after all, just in the Caribbean instead of Qurac? Where are Kory and Jason?

He went rigid. He hadn't heard any sounds of a struggle, and there was no way those two would go down without a fight. They may not have even been on board. But what if they'd been taken by surprise? Up until now, only a handful of people knew the location of the Outlaws' hideout. None of them would've thought the Quracis would find it.

"On your feet, boy!" one of the soldiers shouted at him, yanking him off his knees. The soldier prodded Roy in the small of the back with his gun. "Walk!"

Stumbling forward, Roy couldn't help but think he might be walking past the bodies of his friends at any moment without even knowing it. His stomach practically turned cartwheels. Dying he could handle, but getting other people killed was almost enough to tear him apart.

No, he thought, not almost.

"Lian," he whispered to himself. His daughter's death was what knocked him back off the wagon in the first place, and now he was finally getting what he deserved.

At least when I'm dead, I'll finally get to see her again.

He thought about her laughter and her smile, and how he'd promised he'd always be there for her. He thought about how badly he'd let her down, and the part of him that'd wanted to die all along seemed to grow louder in his head. Maybe she would forgive him for not protecting her. Or maybe she'd hate him, and rightly so, but at that point it didn't really matter.

I'm going to see Lian again, I'm going to see Lian again, I'mgoingtoseeLianagain, became his silent mantra as he walked, no longer afraid. If they make it out alive, Kory and Jason won't need me. They'll be okay without me, just like they've always been.

As he stepped outside and felt sunlight on his skin for what would be the last time, he was almost at peace. He thought about his dad, and how he would finally get to know the hero that Brave Bow had spoken so highly of. He wondered if he'd see his mom, too. He almost laughed at the irony of being excited to die so he could finally meet the people who'd given him life.

"Stop." He felt one of the soldiers grab his shoulder. "On your knees."

For the second time that day, he was shoved to the ground. The warm sand cushioned the blow better than the metal floor inside had, but he still sucked in a breath when he landed. Despite not being able to see anything, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for one of his captors to put a bullet through his head.

Please don't let it hurt too much.

Oh, who even gives a shit at this point?

But instead of shooting him, one of the soldiers yanked the hood off his head. Roy's eyes flew open in surprise. On the ground in front of him lay his bow and a single arrow, tipped with a razor sharp broadhead.

He looked up to ask what was happening, and froze with his mouth still halfway open. Just up the beach, Kory and Jason, or at least two people dressed like them, were kneeling in the sand, handcuffed and hooded the way Roy had just been, with a gun-wielding Quraci soldier standing behind each of them, and inhibitor collars around their necks.

"What is this?" he asked, not looking away from his friends.

The leader of the soldiers, a man Roy recognized as the same soldier who'd orchestrated his original capture back in Qurac, planted himself in front of Roy, gazing mockingly down at him.

"You have a decision to make, Roy Harper," he said. He gestured behind himself toward Kory and Jason. "My sources tell me that those two costumed infidels were responsible for your escape in Qurac, and are to be executed alongside you for their insolence."

This can't be happening, Roy thought.

"However," the leader continued, "you may choose to save one of your compatriots. They will be released and, so long as they refrain from interfering in Quraci affairs again, allowed to live. The other dies immediately. All you have to do is shoot one of the gunmen before he shoots the friend you wish to save."

Roy's head spun as his handcuffs were removed. He had to think, he needed more time.

"How do I know that's really them?" he asked, rubbing his wrists.

The leader sighed, but gave his men a signal. Almost in sync, the gunmen removed Kory and Jason's hoods. It really was them. They were both badly bruised, duct tape covered their mouths, and Jason had a large gash in his forehead, but there was no mistaking them or the angry, defiant looks on their faces.

"Good enough for you?" the leader asked. Numbly, Roy nodded.

"Then choose."

He said it so simply, as if the choice weren't impossible. Neither of them deserved to die, but if he was the reason only one of them lived, he'd never be able to forgive himself. Never being the approximately ten seconds he'd have to live after making his decision.

As he shakily pulled himself to his feet, he weighed his options. The one condition that had been given, besides that only one of Roy's friends could live, was that the sole surviving Outlaw couldn't retaliate. That immediately ruled out Jason, who'd go after the Quraci soldiers guns-blazing the second they took off his handcuffs, which would defeat the purpose of Roy saving him. There was at least a 75% chance of Kory doing the same thing, but what other choice did he have? Roy made his decision.

As he picked up his single arrow, he could barely look at his friends. He deserved to have them hate him for what he was about to do. He stared at it for a second, one end resting in either of his hands, and thought about just driving it through his own throat, ending things on his own terms. Wouldn't that just be the ultimate "fuck you" to his captors?

Instead, he wrapped his hands around the arrow and brought it down over his knee, snapping it in half, ignoring the arrow head slicing into his palm. He tossed the broken pieces aside and looked his captor straight in the eye.

"You can't make me choose," he said bluntly. He couldn't see Kory or Jason's mouths, but it almost looked like they smiled.

The leader laughed, a cold, mirthless sound.

"Very well, boy," he said. "A foolish choice."

The soldiers standing behind Roy grabbed his arms and held him in place as two gunshots rang out simultaneously, and Kory and Jason both collapsed into the sand. Roy's eyes burned as he was handcuffed again and shoved back to his knees. There was no option he could've picked that would've been ideal, but that didn't make the choice he did make any better.

He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

And waited.

And waited.

Had it already happened? He felt odd and fuzzy inside.

He cracked his eyes open fractionally, then the rest of the way in shock. He was staring at hideous motel room wallpaper, about to fall off a lumpy motel room bed. He pulled himself back onto the bed and for a second, just stared at Kory sleeping next to him, the soft glow of her hair and the gentle rise and fall of her chest more beautiful than he ever would have thought they could be. He slid out of bed and walked past Jason, sleeping on the floor because he insisted beds felt wrong to him, to the bathroom.

As quietly as he could, he turned on the faucet and splashed water over his face, the coldness of it waking him up and melting the edges of the nightmare until he could feel his breathing return to normal.

Had he really been that okay with dying?

Yes, he decided, but only if no one else got hurt. It wasn't really that he wanted to die, just that he wouldn't necessarily mind if he did. It was a weird feeling, but he supposed it was progress from how he'd stated at least.

He turned the faucet off and quietly shuffled back to bed. As he lay back down, he felt something crunch under his head. He sat up.

Feeling around the area of his pillow, he found a plastic-wrapped coffee cup, now slightly squished, laying in the dip between his pillow and Kory's. He picked it up and stared it for a second, trying to figure out how it had gotten there, before setting it on the nightstand, settling back into bed, and wrapping one arm around Kory. She snuggled up against his chest a little bit, and, still not quite ready to go back to sleep, Roy lay like that for a while, breathing in her warm, familiar scent and listening to her and Jason breathe.

Living wasn't all bad.