Five years later …
He still has his girls, but he knows that won't last much longer. Jade is like some kind of wild cat … torn between her desire to be out on her own and her need to be with her family. She's got her mother's beauty, but he seems more of himself in her every day … both good and bad.
Artemis … Artemis is worried about her sister … worried about her father. Aware that his time is running out … that when she turns 18 the Justice League will finally make her father pay for all his crimes. She should be looking forward to growing up, moving on … but she knows what that means to her father and she's angry over it.
She's cut her hair short … much like he had worn it in his active days. Her outfit is a modified version of his old uniform though she still carries a bow. She still wears his mask.
There was only so much he could do for them in terms of training … in advice that he could give them over radio. They had needed another mentor … someone who could keep them from going too far … someone who knew about growing up in the shadow of someone else.
Black Canary.
Asking her for help hadn't been easy … but it hadn't been hard, either. Doing what he had to for his kids has only grown easier with time, and swallowing his pride was a small price to pay if meant his girls would be safer in the life they had chosen.
Of course spending time with Canary had meant that they also spent time with Green Arrow and his sidekick.
The attraction between Jade and the boy—Speedy? Why did he name his sidekick Speedy?—had been almost instant. The kid had a chip on his shoulder … one that grew only larger when Jade outfought him and Artemis outshot him. Give him credit, though … he was a hard worker and didn't lag behind them for long.
The archer seemed oblivious to his boy's needs, though. The boy was reaching out … for guidance, for attention … and the Arrow's too wrapped up in his various causes… in his woman … to notice.
It angers him because he can see the signs of the disaster. He's tried reaching out to the boy, but he's not Speedy's father, and the man who should be isn't paying attention.
The boy's a powder keg waiting to go off … and Jade seems bound and determined to be there for the show. There's something in the boy's pain … something in his frustration … that calls to his little girl in ways that no one else can control.
He doesn't like it. He can't stop it. He remembers Paula, and how no force on Earth could have torn them apart.
And Jade is every bit as passionate, every bit as stubborn, as her parents.
He worries about her. Worries about what will happen to her when he's called to account for his myriad sins. He worries because he knows that she has not given up on avenging their wrongs on Deathstroke … he knows that she's been trying to track 'Stroke down for years now … pushing herself to become harder, to become stronger … to become the person who will take him down.
In a way, he's thankful for Speedy's drama. The more she has to fret over her boyfriend's issues the less time she has to throw herself into her vendetta.
Artemis takes the mantle of hero, of family redeemer, seriously. She pushes herself to do better, to be better … to be the best. He grew up with that same drive in himself … to be the best at his craft … and it makes him both proud and worried.
Proud because his daughter is doing well at something she chose for herself. Proud that she can take care of herself and hold her own against men and women with decades of greater experience, pitting her human skill against inhuman power—and coming out on top.
It worries him because he fears the price is too high. She doesn't laugh as much … does not seek to build a life for herself beyond the mask. Sport the hero is gradually becoming all there is to Artemis Crock … and he knows his daughter is so much more than that.
That's why he's grateful that Kid Flash (at least there was a mentor who knew what to call his pupil) is nursing a crush on his baby girl. The boy is irrepressible … sometimes so smug that he irritates the hell out of everyone … but he gets through Artemis's defenses. Makes her angry. Makes her laugh. Makes her remember there's more to life than the mask …
When he's gone, when he's locked up in a hole so dark and deep that daylight will have forgotten him, she'll need Kid Flash to keep her from doing something stupid.
Robin … Robin he's surprised by. Oh, not that he could hold his own in a fight … The Bat trained him after all … He's surprised that the boy hasn't become a miniature version of his mentor. Robin laughs. Robin jokes. Robin brings a little light to even the dark soul of The Bat.
Aqualad is a born leader. He fights bravely at the side of his mentor and king, but there's sadness in his eyes as well. Something that suggests he left something … someone … behind in Atlantis when he took his place at Aquaman's right hand.
He likes these boys … even Speedy.
He knows that the boys, these sidekicks, want to be more. They hunger to be treated as heroes in their own right. They want respect.
And they've earned it.
But it won't be easy for their mentors to give it to them.
He understands that too.
His blood pressure still goes through the roof when his girls go out into the night alone without Canary … when they go offline from radio contact. Letting them solo is torture. He thinks a hundred different things that can go wrong… from equipment breaking to some punk who would normally be no challenge at all getting that one lucky break that can turn an accomplished martial artist, an expert hand to hand combatant … into a corpse.
He knows his girls are good, and will get better with time. He knows that they are extremely capable and competent.
That doesn't stop the worry. That doesn't stop the fear.
Nothing does.
But he's learned to let go … to keep quiet about his fear if not entirely master it.
The League hasn't learned that lesson yet.
They brought these children into their version of The Life, but they want to keep them safe. They want them to spread their wings but they want them to stay in the nest. They want them to grow up to be heroes but still watch over their every move and keep them from harm.
He understands that. He appreciates it.
But he knows it's doomed to failure.
The kids—their kids and his—will grow up. They will spread their wings.
They will be heroes.
And they will be amazing.