Hi there. I'm just going to pretend that this didn't take an obscene amount of time to finish and just casually place it here. Ha… Here's comes new perspectives!

So I actually have been going back and forth with how to finish this story and to be honest it was almost a blood bath, but… well, I finally decided on happy. Maybe I'll still wrench it away in the end, but for now it can be a-okay. As always, thanks for reading and (hopefully) reviewing!

Disclaimer: I own nothing DC does!

Chapter 16

Sometimes he could ignore the pain in his chest. He could push it aside for whatever mission was lying ahead. A flare of heroine had made his otherwise sharp mind hazy. After each kick moving felt impossible, or otherwise unnecessary, and shooting up made the pain of his loss so much easier to bear. It had become like a ritual, his dealer would wait for him on the corner, expectantly watching for the red-headed rich boy with too many problems and plenty of money. But even at his highest point, the drugs only curbed the agony. Every time he closed his eyes, Roy could still see the little girl. His little girl. etai yazi.

Part of him knew the heroine would never be able to erase her, not that he'd want to, but he did want the damn thing to erase the emptiness her death had created.

Even in a drug-induced stupor, Roy's heart would slam with fear when he heard footsteps. Shame and guilt were powerful teachers. The look Dick had given him when he found out had made his stomach revolt, but the look Oliver had given him… It had been nearly enough to stop entirely. Almost. When he'd been puking up his guts, Oliver had been there to pat his back and coax him into sobriety. The withdrawal symptoms he could have handled, he was Arsenal for fuck's sake. But then the visions intensified and he would see Lian everywhere. He would hear her laugh when he turned a corner; he would see her face in every little girl's. And the misery that filled his heart came back twofold. So he'd started up again, lost his home, lost almost everything else.

Eventually, though, a hit ceased to take the edge off. The damage to his life had been dealt – the loss of the only father figure he'd had since Brave Bow, and the abandonment of the Titans. He channeled his focus into crime fighting, an uneven attempt at redemption that had eventually led him to form the Outlaws with Jason and Kori. Apart, the three of them were broken to hell. Life had thrown each of them into horrible circumstances and ripped them apart from the complacency of life with family. The fake smile Jason wore just to hide the pain; the way Koriand'r cloaked herself in power so that no one could get close enough to see her scars; and Roy Harper, hero turned addict turned anti-hero on the path to recovery. Together they were a team. The understanding that the past was dangerous and off limits was what united them. As the Outlaws they agreed never to look back, to ignore what was behind them in favor of what was ahead.

That's why they worked so well together.

But when the aliens had come, their world had been torn apart along with their merry band. Jason, their wayward leader, had been adamant – the only safe place would be in Gotham. To admit such a thing and ask for them to return to his old home was enough to keep him and Kori from asking any questions. Then Jason had disappeared on his way back to their hideout. The event still hung fresh in his mind and it was the reason the two remaining Outlaws had worked so hard to get here.

Staring at the computer screen left him feeling empty. The bluish glow was almost unbearable in the darkness, but he kept staring right on ahead anyway.

He wasn't really there.

He was hearing screams and fire.

"Kori, move!" fear echoed through his bones as an arrow cut off an offending blast before it could reach her. She was slower than usual – months on the run could do that to any person – and now it was showing. Her body was too used to the shield of power and fire that fighting without it dragged her elegant form down to disorderly spasms. Exhaustion lingered in both of them, but they were so close now, Gotham was in sight.

Roy twisted in the air as Starfire launched another blast at the encroaching squad of aliens. bile rose in the back of his throat as the creatures came fully into view. Their pride made their movements jerky and over-confident, although, standing tall at just under two meters and having crippled the human race so quickly, Roy supposed they had a right to it. In the dim light, their skin glistened – red, dark and dangerous, varying in shade with each distinct member of the species. They had a certain degree of sameness that made his blood boil. Tattoos and piercings covered their bodies and identified them much like Earth armies had worn uniforms and dog tags. Marching towards them now, lasers held between three fingers, Roy figured they were only as terrifying as he let them be. They're going to try to collar her, the thought came, rising unbidden with the panic in his chest. He felt a familiar surge of protectiveness – he could not lose another friend like they had lost Jason.

The Tamaranian skidded through the air sporadically and forced bolts of power from her splayed palms. The energy she gave off was enough to melt through the enemy lines, so Roy stood beneath her, loosing arrows into any enemies that broke through her offensive charge. "Kori! There's too many! We have to go!" the snow that had been falling around them was gone now, burned away in the heat of Satrfire's movements.

She didn't give any indication that she'd heard him, but when she raised her hand a glorious light built up in her palm. Roy had to smile, hope returning with a force. Kori would never cease to amaze him. There was a flurry of movement in the enemy ranks, a swelling of force. The air itself seemed to cease all movement, stilling for this –

But the red beam torched her skin before he could react.

And she was falling. His eyes followed her.

She slammed into the ground – no longer blanketed with snow – and she did not move. The exhaustion was back now; it was striking at his heart and making him pant in tandem with it. He felt an overwhelming sense of hate, just staring at where Kori had landed. It was a different girl in his mind's eyes. It was a much smaller one. And she had black hair and a face that should have held so much radiant joy that to see her lie still as stone made an ache settle into his entire body.

Someone was screaming.

Arrows were flying about the battlefield, red ones, making contact with their crimson skin.

Roy barely recognized himself, but he knew – he knew it was him. He was releasing this desperate cry for battle. He was tearing through the enemy lines as though they were nothing more than water slipping through his fingers.

Oh Kori.

Lian.

His loss bit deep into him, touched his very soul, as he struggled in a losing fight.

As red and green arrows shot past him…

Wait.

Green arrows?

A blast caught him in the shoulder. There was no blood – they were using laser rounds, burning through flesh and cauterizing injuries immediately – but when his head hit the ground it didn't really matter. The world rang with battle, but in the air he could only register his own flesh sizzling away. The pain was negligible, he'd stopped feeling after Kori had gone down, but damn it all he couldn't seem to keep his eyes open. He stared into the sky, darkening as it was, and wondered densely when the snow had returned.

…

Oliver Queen had never really been cut out to be a father. He'd proven that early on, when he'd abandoned a little blond-haired baby, and then again when he'd ruined things with his ginger-haired protégé. In his heart, he was sure that they already knew how he felt about them. He was always so absolute in his convictions; he just assumed that his boys, or anyone else for that matter, would understand.

He'd been wrong.

When Conner had come into his life again, it had been like taking a breath underwater – like drowning. In a single moment, the philanthropist crime-fighter had been faced with his own hypocrisy. And he'd failed to swallow that with any dignity whatsoever.

Of course knowing that and admitting it were two very different things.

Conner had beaten him to that anyway. Staring at him in their city, telling him all the things he already knew deep down. Yes, their confrontation had ended messily for both of them. Connor had severed whatever strings Oliver had been desperately clinging to. Yet, in that moment, the pride he felt for his boy couldn't have been stronger. Neither could the pain he felt at the stinging remarks.

Roy had been easier. When the young teen had first come into Oliver's life, Roy had already grown up to an extent. There wasn't much "raising" that needed to be done. That wasn't to say that Speedy hadn't needed his guidance – he definitely could have used more of it – but his moral compass was more or less already formed. While that had been the case with Conner as well, there were never any obligations with Roy. The boy was just his boy. The child he took care of.

Conner was in a whole other league.

He didn't love either one more or less, they were just… different. He would die for either of them in a heartbeat – and that was how he measured love. How much would I give so that this person will be safe? For his city, he'd give up his reputation. For Dinah, He'd give up his bow and arrows, his city even. For his boys? He'd give up anything. His life, his freedom, his identity. In return, they were his legacy.

They didn't need to be anything other than what they were.

And that's why, when the damned apocalypse hit, Oliver Queen had put every resource he had into finding his sons. The bow and arrows were firmly at his side and he'd managed to track down each of them. Though, when he saw Roy hit the ground – assuming the worst but hoping for the best – Oliver Queen had seen red. The old fear had stirred, deep within him, and the old saying rang in his ears:

No parent should ever have to bury their child.

He supposed that applied to both of them now.

"Roy, you OK?" the light helped him see his boy, beyond the faint bluish shadow the computer screen cast. His hand brushed against the other's shoulder and he felt the young man flinch. He could still see the raised, silver skin where the skin had burned away. Oliver couldn't help but swallow against the surge of fear – the taste of it stayed with him long after he'd lifted his son out of that battlefield.

"Do you think he's still out there?" Roy's eyes were clouded when he spoke.

"absolutely," Oliver managed a small smile, "You know as well as I do that the Bats have a knack for returning from the grave."

Roy shot him an incredulous look. "Jason's been there and done that. I don't think the powers that be will let him get away with it a second time."

His hand hadn't left the boy's shoulder, he gave it a light, reassuring squeeze. "If Bruce is out there, he'll keep him safe. They may have their differences, but a father would never allow his children to end up in the grave."

"He's failed him before, and there's a good chance that there'll be a repeat performance."

Roy wasn't looking at him anymore.

…

Dick's shoulders began to twitch, the muscles tensing and then releasing effortlessly. It was an old habit, something he'd watched his biological father do every now and then. It was nothing more than an impatient jitter – something Bruce had pointed out to him on numerous occasions. It never stopped him. He'd caught Haley staring at him one day after a warm up – a surprised look upon his face. "Your dad used to do that. Just before going on. Guess it's a family thing."

His throat became painful, a familiar ache settling deep down. Attempting to dislodge it, he swallowed heavily before letting his eyes close for a moment. Dick Grayson had found a new life after the circus. He'd found Bruce – or perhaps that was the other way around – and allowed the older man to fit solidly into the void left by his parents. True, Bruce would never truly take up the whole space, but he'd certainly tried his hardest. Now, looking back, it was difficult to imagine their family any differently. Tim had said it first. Batman needs a Robin. Both were nothing without the other, and both would probably be gone now if it weren't for one unlucky night under a trapeze.

One door opens when another closes, right?

Still, Dick's thoughts began to circumvent, drawing his attention to all of the friends he'd lost along the way. Roy, Star, Donna… Friends lost to him, but perhaps not to his little brother. No, just like the loss of his parents, Dick's defeat had led to another's success. He freely admitted to allowing his closest friends to slip away. What he hadn't wanted was to admit that his closest friends had given his little brother more of a chance than he ever would have. Dick was the one that they shared all their memories with. He was the one who had pulled them out of the fire more times than either party cared to admit. He was the leader that held them together when the team was fraying at the edges. Yet each had been able to do what he could not.

Forgive Jason and wholeheartedly call him "friend".

But he'd be lying if he said that Dick Grayson did not begrudge his little brother over the matter. The team had, after all, been his friends first and foremost. Maybe he was too close to the matter. Maybe they didn't know the fullest extent to Jason Todd's crimes. Maybe they were just more forgiving than he. The two that had been his closest friends, and the ones that had been broken the most by past events, had come together with his ne'er-do-well brother. In any case, Starfire and Roy firmly stood in Jay's corner now.

His shoulders gave another weak twitch. The lump in his throat had begun to fade and with it, his memories of the past. He needed to focus now. His family counted on finding medicine. Damian was counting on his older brothers. So, Dick's eyes slowly opened to the world once more. He surveyed the area below as his body let out another anxious jitter.

But his muscles tensed all at once for a moment, all attention drawn to a small figure in the street – a person he had thought gone forever.

The lithe, but shambling individual seemed wary, wondering between buildings aimlessly. Something about the simple way that the child moved made him look twice. He knew this little on. It made his heart bound up into his throat at the thought and he dove down towards the figure before he could even begin to second-guess himself.

…

The door to the medical clinic was nearly off its hinges. Inside, people sat in chairs or swayed dangerously on their feet. Many sported bloodied, broken bodies and many whined aloud to the medical staff that scurried about in an attempt to keep hearts beating. What struck him most about the scene was the sheer number of them – especially the children who were held limply in the arms of their mothers or fathers. It was the kids that made his heart thump painfully in his chest.

He had originally planned on stealing the medicine they needed, but after seeing the sick and dying of Bludhaven gathered before him, Jason had decided that simply telling the truth would suffice. A plain looking woman passed him, wearing the tell-tale scrubs of one of the medical nurses. Shadows clung to her face, making small crevices where there should be none. Golden locks of hair were tied back tightly in a bun atop her head, but one could see the loose strands of graying hair. Stress and exhaustion would do that to a person. She waved over her shoulder at a male doctor, indicating her intention to leave for the night.

Jason stepped in front of her, just at the right time. His face became a mask of emotion, mirroring the people around him. The woman slammed right into him. "Oh my God- I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

In the interest of preserving his role, the young man even shuffled back a little, as though her slight weight could have actually moved him. He coughed once, twice, then said simply "It's fine. I'm just looking to talk to a doctor…"

Her face, though taut from the day's stress, changed instantly and Jason knew he had chosen the right person. She was analyzing him immediately. "What's wrong, are you injured?"

Jason smiled inwardly before saying aloud, "My brother… he was very badly injured in the latest 'demonstration' and he desperately needs medical attention…" Jason gave more than a little desperation away in his voice, an emotion that didn't entirely need to be faked, "My dad sent me ahead to get some medicine, but my brother can barely even walk…"

The nurse, Jana, her nametag read, turned her head to look after the doctor she had waved to earlier. "I'm sorry but we don't have much to spare…"

"Anything you have to offer would mean the world to my family," Jason said quietly.

Her face twisted in sympathy, "I can point you to a place where you can get what you need, but I'm afraid there's not much else I can do for you."

Jason nodded, listening to her instructions carefully – and amazed by the way his mind was already working out the best route through the city. When she was done, he nodded his thanks and promptly left the clinic.

Dick might not be happy with the detour, but he'd have to make due.

Those kids needed immediate medical care more than they did.

He didn't even notice the men that followed him into the cold Bludhaven night.

…

The figure had been much more elusive than he originally thought. At first, he had thought that he had imagined the tiny person skulking about the alleyway. Now that he'd gotten a closer look, he was absolutely certain of it. The child was cloaked in dark clothing, a red hood shrouding dirt-stained features. Dick followed only a step behind, twisting and turning with each small leap and bound, before he realized that the kid had led him in a circle. It could only mean one thing – this child both knew he was giving chase and how to vary each step in order to confirm it. To be honest, he just about laughed aloud when the realization dawned on him. This was definitely a hero's child.

Before he could even get a word out, the kid set off at a sprint – disappearing for large chunks of time through shadow and dirt. He had no choice now, though. This little one had been away from home for far too long.

Dick bound after the shadowy figure, twisting with the alleys and spinning the shadows to his advantage. The air rang with a sharp, triumphant cry of laughter and then the child was – gone. Kid think's fast. He thought, before a more somber one followed. The apple never falls far from the tree.

He lifted the flap of a window to peer down into the darkness inside the abandoned building. It had been condemned for years, long before the invasion had even begun. Too much movement or weight inside the building and it would collapse – making it a convenient hiding spot for a hungry child looking to avoid unwanted attention.

Dick let out an exasperated sigh, turning around and intending to wait in a battle of wills – when he caught sight of what could only be trouble.

A large and particularly angry member of the Red Guard stood before him. It was a member of the alien species, standing out as the strongest members of their army. The creature growled at him once before charging toward him at full speed.

"Shit," Dick spat. Looks like his little game of cat-and-mouse would only be a warm-up.

…

Dick wasn't supposed to move. Jason had been very, very clear about that. They didn't have time to waste scrounging around in the dark. For one thing, he wasn't entirely familiar with the city's many alleyways. For another, the sun was swiftly on its way to greet the sky, something that would spell disaster for their mission. Damian needed medical aid, and they were the only one's remotely capable of bringing it to him.

Releasing a frustrated breath, he whirled on his heel and walked to each edge of the building individually. At first he searched for his older brother's conspicuous figure, when that failed he looked for a taller building. He needed to get a better vantage point, needed to find Dick before the idiot got himself into more trouble. Something in his gut clenched, tightening the knot he'd been feeling all night. Something felt wrong, something big. Jason could practically see it looming above the hesitant sunrise. He felt an overwhelming need for sleep, a weariness that struck at his bones from every angle. If he were to close his eyes now, he'd probably fall into a deep, rhythmic lull. One that he definitely couldn't afford.

Another frustrated grunt escaped his parted lips. He launched himself at the next building over, a much taller concrete cage – likely it used to be an office building where workers milled about to and fro, waiting for their wage to be paid. How many lives had been lost just inside, beyond the window? Jason shook himself, shimmying up between each ledge, careful not to gaze into the glass surfaces, afraid of what he might see. Reaching one last length and finally meeting with the top, he stood without emotion. His eyes took on a calculated light, searching through the pre-dawn darkness for his brother.

What he saw instead was a child. Small arms waived frantically in the air, reaching with all their might in a universal signal for help. Realizing that Jason had seen the anxious display, the kid pointed back toward a darkened alley where the young man could just make out the red-tinted face of a massive creature. He turned at once to investigate, nodding to the child to show his awareness. His brother would have to wait. This took precedence; a child's life was at stake.

A lone flag pole, the country's symbol of unity long torn from the metal, faced him and he seized the opportunity immediately. Taking firm old of one end, he did something he hadn't since his days as Robin.

He catapulted off the fucking building.

His landing on a dilapidated building across the way was messy, but sure. He had a couple more buildings to go before he was standing above where the child had been – a quick glance around found the kid right next to… oh fuck.

His eyes finally fell on what was unmistakably Dick Grayson, and he had to reel back and practically groan aloud. The monstrosity had a hold of him, pinning the older man against a wall by the throat. If the Red Guardsman wanted to kill his older brother, it would only be a matter of moments. Jason had to act now if he was to save him.

A few months ago, before he'd been separated from Harper and Kori, before his reconciliation with Bruce, and before shit hit the proverbial fan, Jason might have let it happen. He might have watched while the alien creature snuffed out the indomitable force that simply was Grayson.

A few months ago, Jason had been a whole hell of a lot smarter.

He dove, feet first into the alley just as the building began shifting beneath him, sending dust directly up into his face. The same occurred to the other in the alley – the building was beginning to collapse. The Guardsman abruptly dropped his brother and Jason used the narrow opportunity to get into stance and drive his foot down, just above the kneecap. He heard as well as felt the wet snap of an ACL being snapped apart.

Jason didn't let the satisfaction settle in before he was winding back for another hit. Using the heel of his palm, he struck the creature's nose. Assuming it had the same weakness as humans, the blow could kill the creature if he put enough pressure behind it – the brain was only a few inches in and even a small bone could destroy something vital. In any case, the Guardsman went reeling backward. Blinded, crippled, and now critically injured, he was no longer a threat.

Thought was thrown haphazardly aside as Jason lifted his brother from the ground, where Dick had only just begun to recover, and barked an order for the child to follow him. He'd be damned if anyone else on his team was going to die. After all, he'd only just managed to tackle the title of team captain from Dickie-bird.

It was only a while later, after finding a relatively safe place to lower Grayson to the ground that he got a good look at the kid following behind him.

He gasped aloud.

Just as the sun breached the horizon and blanketed the city in a haze of blood-red rays, Jason stared into the wide, terrified and very much alive eyes of Lian Harper.

To be honest I'm getting sick of male pronouns. Oops. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and if you have any questions, feel free to drop them in my box!