Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He couldn’t mistake the soaring noise that tore through the sky that night. The one that sounded like a plane had flown just above his head a little too close for comfort. He didn’t know what to make of it when his hideout suddenly rattled like a bomb had just exploded. He should’ve minded his business. He should’ve gone back to bed and let it be. But he was the only one on the island—there was no one else. He did his best to quell his curiosity, but his overactive brain worked overtime.

Jason’s hands itched for a fight since going into hiding two years ago, human contact having escaped him with his new home on the uninhabited island. He decided then to use that as an excuse to creep out of his hole and canvas the darkened forest. The sound of crickets pulsed all around him. Twigs snapped as nocturnal animals tracked his movements, some seeing a potential meal, others out of curiosity.

He pulled on his mask and brandished his piece as he crept in the direction he heard the noise.

Jason really had no plan. He wasn’t even sure the explosion had happened on his island. For all he knew, a nearby military base had a mishap that happened to fall into the ocean surrounding him. But he followed his gut, even if it led him astray in the past. His mind tingled with the possibilities.

He wanted—no, needed—to know.

The wee hours of the morning ticked by as he crawled around the forest, his secondary mask shielding his face from whatever lay beyond the trees, his finger on the trigger just in case.

It wasn’t until he neared the forest's close that he saw it. Decapitated and downed trees creating a path in the dark. Some swayed with the light wind that picked up with the sea breeze. The path stretched beyond where he could see. He turned on the light attached to the top of his gun to survey the clearing.

When he didn’t find anything suspicious—more suspicious than a dark path of fallen trees—he proceeded to follow it. Excitement bubbled through him; the anticipation of discovering something entirely unique to him made his legs move a little faster. The thought of attack kept his gun raised, his other hand dancing by his utility belt. His breathing picked up from the long path and his excited heart. He was satisfied his intuition was correct.

Now, for what danger lay ahead, he didn’t know. But he knew he’d have to find out the hard way. If it meant he could take out his unresolved anger, it was okay with him.

Up ahead, he spotted the crash site. Pieces of metal multiplied as he walked closer. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils. He could see a faint trail of smoke evaporating into the night air. The scent became a little unbearable as he reached it, a flicker of orange seen just before the front of the—spaceship? He wasn’t sure what it was, but it certainly wasn’t a plane.

He cursed not having his old mask, which could’ve helped him see better. His fight two years ago had severely damaged the metal covering, all the work and time fine-tuning it into a smart device now gone. He was stuck using a regular cloth red mask he customized to his liking due to not having the money or materials to remake his old one.

The spaceship, if he could call it that, looked familiar. It seemed akin to something the Titans had way back when. But the body of it screamed it wasn’t from earth if the hieroglyphics written all around it were any indication. Cautiously, he approached the vessel, his black glove sliding over the emblem on the nose. It was purple and black and damaged from the crash, scratches wiped away parts of the colors, and tree branches and vines stuck between the broken metal. There was a big hole in the ground from the impact, now its final resting place.

There was an open hatch at the top, the single glass covering broken like something had crashed in—or out. It was outfitted for two people; he could see the seats from the angle the vessel had crashed into the ground. The body was large, but aside from the broken glass, he couldn’t see anyone inside.

Assessing the fire brewing at the front of the spaceship and his surroundings, he determined his safety before placing his gun back on his hip and grabbing his grabbling hook. It buried itself into the metal where it was secured. He tugged the rope extracted to test his weight to his satisfaction before using the spaceship's body to climb.

He was disappointed to find the cabin empty as he ascended. Papers scattered the floor and console, the language foreign and symbolized. A pop of electricity from exposed wires made him jump, and he scolded himself for not steeling his nerves. Despite the cackle of the fire and the steam rolling through the engine, it was perfectly around the vessel.

That made him nervous.

Before trekking down the vessel, he took a few documents and folded them into the pouch on his belt. With a quick calculation based on the glass, it was likely whatever was flying the ship flew out of its seat on impact. There were no seatbelts attached to the chairs when he checked around.

He pulled out back his gun once back on the ground, readying it just in case. If someone had flown out of their seat, they likely died on impact. But if it wasn’t human, which his gut was leaning toward, he needed to be ready.

Of all the places to crash…

Jason came out of curiosity, but his disappointment was weighing heavy. He came for a fight, not a recovery mission.

Beyond the trees, there was a small clearing a few yards ahead. Jason used the flashlight on his gun to light his way as he eased into a slow pace, careful not to disturb the gators around the swampy area.

With the energy he had already expelled, he hoped to at least find something to quell his thoughts.

The swish of water made him pause momentarily. He looked right, then left, before proceeding further into the marsh. Swamp water began seeping through his boots, the bottom of his getting stuck in wet dirt and causing him to unstick his foot as he walked. Lifting his knees higher to walk, he paused as his light flashed across a body covered by mud lying halfway on their side.

The water wasn’t deep enough to drown, but it would do the trick for an unconscious person. With a bit more haste, he approached the slender body half submerged. Slowly, he bent down to touch their neck to feel for a pulse. It was weak, but there.

Carefully, he turned the body around to get a better look at their face and nearly fell back. His gun slipped from his grasp into the swamp which shrouded him in darkness, but he knew that face even without it.

His fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear. He could leave right now—pack his stuff from his hideout and hightail it out of there. He could pretend he had never heard a thing. It was none of his business. He could leave the island, and no one would ever know she—or he for that matter—was ever there. He could just let her die. She wasn’t his responsibility.

He removed his mask and grabbed his hair in annoyance. What was he to do? If someone was looking for her, if they were looking for her, she’d lead them right to him. They might think he’d done something to her, and all hell would break loose.

Before he knew it, he started to back up, slowly inching away from her. He turned away from her, ready to leave her behind, when he heard a groan.

It was like his feet had become paralyzed. He couldn’t move. He willed them to, yet they continued to sink further into the wet ground. He looked at his belt, forgetting his gun had dropped into the murky water near her body and decided his fate. The churn of his gut was his ultimate decision-maker.

“Fuck,” he ground out as he turned back to her, an invisible pull guiding his legs.

If he was going to do this, he needed to do it fast.

He waddled back to her side, got his gun, and secured it to his belt before he hooked an arm under her legs, the other under her neck. A quick check showed no animal bites, but her leg had a deep cut, and abrasions covered what he could see of her orange skin that wasn’t covered in mud. She was shoeless, but her armor was still intact. Her blazing red hair was matted to her back with dirt. Water dripped from her armor as he pulled her against him.

He berated himself as he walked back along the path he came, leaving the vessel and the fire behind. This wouldn’t end well for him; he knew it. But he couldn’t ignore the tug he felt as he looked down at her kind face. Her perfect red eyebrows pinched as if she was in pain, and her breathing started to become labored. He couldn’t tell if the moisture on her face was from sweat or the swamp water.

Her eyes suddenly flashed open, full green flashing with his blue ones. She shot forward in his arms, unbalancing him before he could get a word out. She grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his.

Stunned, he stumbled and fell with her still attached to his lips. He quickly untangled himself from her, and her hands lost their strength, holding nothing, her eyes fluttering closed, a whisper of “Robin” on her lips.

And then silence. A look of peace befell her face.

Not sure what to make of everything, he used his free hand to briefly touch his lips before grabbing his mask from his utility and yanking it back on his face. He should’ve kept it on, to begin with. He pushed what just happened from his mind before he fell down a rabbit hole.

He bent to his knees, slowly feeling her neck again, his hands slightly shaking. A defeated sigh was all he could muster when he felt nothing. No pulse.

There was a moment he stood, wondering what to do. He had already come this far; it wouldn’t feel right to just leave her there. So, he gathered her back into his arms, a sadness he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on pushed aside as he made the final trek to his hideout.

The crack of dawn had him pausing before he entered the hidden stairway in a giant oak tree.

Jason had found the place by chance after staying in Key West for a while. After overhearing a conversation at a bar about an old war bunker on one of the islands nearby, he set out to find it. It took him two months of scouting the island, playing survival, to finally find it.

It provided all he needed—oil lamps, a rainwater drain and bucket for fresh water, a bunk complete with 1940s books on a makeshift shelf. There was even a small firepit in the middle of the room for those rare cold days. It was small, with no more than five people likely able to fit in the space comfortably. But that was fine with him.

He struggled to carry her down the wooden-carved stairs due to their steepness. To ensure he could see, he was forced to hang her over his shoulder as he climbed down, which muddied his clothes. He laid her on his bed, noting he’d have to find new covers as soon as possible.

He stared at her for a little longer than he should’ve, contemplating what to do with a dead girl in his bed. What felt right?

Without thinking, he grabbed a rag, poured some fresh water on it, and set aside a container with more water to wash it off later.

He started with her face, his hands pausing around her eyes and then to her legs, carefully cleaning her wound as best he could. He dipped her hair in the container water until he was satisfied with most of the gunk being out. He did quick work to the rest of her, trying not to linger in areas he was sure wouldn’t bode well if she were….

After cleaning her, he got up to get the stitching and needle he kept nearby. Jason grabbed what he needed but sighed and stood still for a moment.

What was he doing? Cleaning her up, for what? No one would ever know she was here. Why go through the trouble?

A flash of memory stuck to him. Her hanging on his arm. Her first trip to the Batcave. Her kind smile and her inviting personality. The eyes that said, “you belong.” That she saw you no different from anyone else. That she accepted you for who you were. The girl who lit like a fire and shined like a star.

She symbolized everything he was running from. His past, his so-called “family.” He stepped away from the needle and thread, his head hurting, his mind flashing with memory, after memory. He sat on the plastic chair in the corner and buried his face in his hands.

“Get ahold of yourself, Jason. Don’t lose your shit,” he muttered to himself. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palms, and stared at her.

The candle flickering next to him was sent flying in an instant. “Dammit!” he screamed as wax inadvertently poured on his skin. Thankfully nothing caught on fire.

He was definitely losing his shit.

His one act of kindness—figures it would end like this. He paced around his bunker, unsure what to do with her, or himself, for that matter. He cleaned her up, but what for? She was dead. Was he supposed to toss her back outside and bury her? It didn’t feel right. His hand kept gripping his hair, tighter and tighter. He was sure a few strands fell from his hands.

Religion wasn’t his thing, but it couldn’t have been pure coincidence that she, of all people in the world—the universe—would land on this desolate island in the middle of nowhere where he was hiding. What were the odds?

“What do you want from me?” Jason asked no one in particular. His options were limited. He couldn’t tell anyone about this. But they’d know she’s missing at some point. And what of her planet and her people, and why she even came or crashed?

He wasn’t well-equipped to try and revive her, and the only people who likely could didn’t know where he was or hated his guts. The whole point of hiding was to stay hidden.

He wondered about decomposition. Since there was no other plan, would she rot down in the bunker? Did it matter if she was an alien? Did they decompose the same? He inched forward, touched her skin, and then sharply took a step back.

Her skin was on fire. When had that happened? She should’ve been getting cold if the process had been the same.

“What the hell is going on?” There was too much unknown. It was more than he could handle.

Confliction settled in the pit of his stomach. His mind buzzed as he made his way to a long-forgotten bag in the corner of his bunker. Its tethered old red fabric was worse for wear, one of the handles was missing, and the front pocket was ripped off.

All his old gadgets were in there, still untouched and deactivated. Some broken, and some still in good condition. He’d stolen it back in Gotham, believing he deserved at least some semblance of what he once was. It followed him wherever he went, reminding him of a dream he couldn’t shoot away.

All his devices—the ones that still worked—had already been encrypted and were untraceable. He wanted to kick himself for what he was about to do, but he saw no other way. Maybe with this, he could kill two birds with one stone. His hand tingled with wanting to hold his gun. It was comforting to him. But all the thoughts, all his worse thoughts, couldn’t stop his hand from powering on the device and searching for the one person that came to mind.

Chapter Text

It was awkward staying in his hideout with her lifeless body invading his every thought. In the few days since he found her, he spent most of his time above ground at his campsite to avoid having any run-ins with her. It wasn’t just the mysterious circumstances of her being there, but her face brought back too many memories of what he was and what he was running from.

Every so often, when he forgot something, he’d peek at her form as if to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Her body had not cooled down since she arrived. No rigor mortis, if that was even a thing with Tamaraneans. Instead, her body had become so warm he had to remove the sheet surrounding the bed in hopes it didn’t catch fire. He prayed it wasn’t a sign she’d combust with energy, but it was all a waiting game at this point.

He questioned whether this was how her people transitioned or if she was really gone after all. It was why he had difficulty deciding if he should just bury her. It seemed wrong. Not only because she was a friend and deserved more than having a pile of dirt placed on her in a long-forgotten area with no friends to send her off, but because he had a gnawing feeling that this would not be the end of things.

Not by a long shot.

It was only two days since those coordinates were sent. He never received a response which left him admittedly a little disappointed. He wondered if any action had been warranted by his reaching out. At the very least, he was compromised whether the message was seen or not. It was hard to miss a flying ship soaring through the sky. The Watch Tower would’ve been the first to know if something was heading to Earth. But still, he found it odd, the lack of investigation.

He sat beside her for the first time in days, transfixed with the peace on her beautiful face. He couldn’t explain the tug he felt toward this woman who had always served as a kindred warrior amongst their kind but also a great friend when someone needed it. She was a bold figure to a team he was never a part of, a role model to many outcasts that walked alongside him. She was loved by many but was held by only ever one.

Jason didn’t care about their past; he was barely around before life slammed his face into the ground. But she meant something to a lot of people. She was a walking expression of love many didn’t deserve to experience. She represented something he once valued, and a part of him, despite his journey's dark path, couldn’t let that go.

What a loss for her to have ended this way. Crowded by one man who didn’t deserve her kindness? He shook his head and left for his campsite.

For an island left primarily untouched in what Americans dubbed their version of Australia, he was somewhat surprised by the lack of wildlife he had encountered since making the area his home months ago. Though, he chalked it up to his lack of night hunting and becoming especially acquainted with the confines of his bunker deep below, outside of journeying by boat to get food every now and then. But even the few nights he accidentally dosed off near the campfire, he had yet to be “wowed” by the habitat. He was grateful to be left alone in his temporary home by the fire the past two nights.

Though, he found his mind refusing to seize their constant flashbacks or her imagery plaguing him, causing an uncomfortable, fitful sleep. At times, he jostled awake from a nightmare, panic settling in as he half expected her to stand over him with a starbolt ready to launch at his sleeping form.

During those hours, he found himself with relentless time before dawn, which he used to sharpen his tools and organize his gadgets. There was a high chance that if he were compromised, he would be face-to-face with his brother. There would be no talk once he was found, that he knew. After their last encounter, bad blood still flowed between them, and there would be no holding back.

A part of him was excited. It had been a while since he got to exercise his limbs and his new gadgets. His brother never disappointed when it came to a brawl, and with nothing but time on his hand, Jason knew his brother wouldn’t leave without blood on his. But Jason had him on emotional warfare. It made him sick to use her that way, but she’d be his leverage if he had to. His brother could never resist a fight when it came to protecting her. She was always a weakness for him, even if he never liked to admit it.

Jason found himself budding as he laid out his detection markers a few hundred feet outside his campsite. He doubted anyone would attack aerially like a maniac, especially him. He was tactical and a shadow lover. He’d use the trees to his advantage, but he’d make sure he’d see it coming. Still, Jason left his only heat seeker close just in case.

Satisfied with his setup, he went to his makeshift bed—a few broken tree logs mashed with a tattered sheet resting on top. It was the most uncomfortable place he ever had to sleep, but it would do. His hammock had gotten ripped during a surprise storm two months ago. The remnants made good fire fuel for a week after.

His bag of gadgets would serve as his pillow as it did the night before. He pondered his decision to stay on the island instead of getting a motel room in The Keys. It wouldn’t be that far of a trip, and he could make it work for several hours. But something didn’t sit right in his stomach, leaving her alone in the bunk—on the island. It also didn’t help that being anywhere near a city often led to a steamy night of regret. Without the distractions of women or flashing lights and liquor, he could plan his next move.

Darkness descended on the campsite, the sky free of the usual spring clouds. Flickering lights from the fire danced around the trees, casting ominous shadows that favored the scary stories he imagined kids told each other around campfires. The forest settled deep in silence as most wildlife retreated to their corners, the nocturnal ones awaiting their turn for a meal.

Jason stretched back on his “bed” and stared at the distant stars, wondering which one she came from. How far had she sailed across the sky to end up back on Earth? He didn’t know much about her place of origin outside of what he came to know over the years. He didn't know what her people were like or how they lived outside of what she told in snippets in the past. But like anyone who knew her both intimately or otherwise, knew she loved her culture and her people.

Was she coming from Tamaran? If so, what drove her to flee?

He had spent the day before searching for that answer on the ship. The fire had since died thanks to the light evening rain that passed, only a small tendril of smoke bellowing from the engine left in its wake. The controls had died, and the few pieces of paperwork that weren’t exposed to the rain were the only things he could grab. He was unsure how valuable the information was due to his inability to read alien language. He wasn’t even sure if it was Tamaranean at all.

His stomach grumbled, causing him to blow out a frustrated breath. He was getting low on food, and as much as he’d like to avoid the city, a run for stock would more or less be necessary as the days chipped away. 

Another growl guaranteed he wouldn’t sit comfortably until he satisfied his craving, forcing him out of his makeshift sleeper. He checked his trackers before lightly paddling down the steps of his bunker. He paused like he always did when he entered. It always felt like a splice of shock passed through him as he watched her lay there stiff and unaware of her—or his, for that matter—predicament.

He liked to do the temperature check out of habit or maybe because it gave him the excuse to touch her. But as he neared her, he could feel the sweat beads populate on his forehead. The ripples of heat radiating from her body were now amassing and alarming.

It was getting too dangerous to be in such close quarters if the heat intensified.

How would this end? He wondered. Was his theory of combustion on target?

He’d have to figure out how to get her out of the bunker. Maybe even off the island if that were the case.

Despite the apparent danger, he penetrated the molten area and stood next to her, his hands hesitant to touch her skin. At the last minute, he decided against it and backed away to busy himself with his earlier intention of getting the last bag of chips he had stashed away somewhere.

He hurried back up the stairs and was about to settle back in his place but stopped halfway when he spotted the whisp of smoke from his extinguished campfire. The bag of chips fell from his hand as he had a grab for his Glock, but he stopped when a gush of wind hit his back, the sizzling cackle of electricity making the hair rise on the back of his neck. Or maybe it was the tingle of excitement that started coursing through his veins.

High. That’s how the anticipation of a fight always made him feel.

Jason didn’t need to turn around to know what would happen next.

A low grin spread across his face as he mocked a show of surrender with his hands raised. “I sent the coordinates to Roy days ago. Took you long enough to intercept. I almost started losing faith in you, Grayson.”

Chapter Text

The air was congested with mixtures of gas, constricting her breathing as she stumbled blindly along the corridor. Even with the lung capacity to toggle through the vacuum of space, her low energy meant she spent more time pushing through her weakened state and less time filtering pockets of quality air.

Let them go…

Those words repeated to her in Tamaranean tongue, rough with urgency, low with caution. The sorrow in his eyes wouldn’t leave her mind.

A trail of blood followed behind her. The exposed skin on her calf was slow to heal. She both thanked and cursed X’hal for being shrouded in darkness. While it cloaked her being, her limited source of power meant she continued to bump into things as she searched for escape. It didn’t help her pain but for now she was safe.

So much time had passed already, she knew she needed to hurry before they caught on. She needed to find that ship before it was too late.

An explosion rocked the corridor and she braved herself against the wall. It creaked as rocks tumbled at her feet.

Oh, how she wished she could fly right now. She would’ve been out long ago. Her attempt earlier had left her barely able to raise her feet from the ground, then landing flat on her face with exhaustion.

Let them go…

She regretted many things in her life, but none more than her decision to return back to Tameran. The love she held for her people, her longing to see them free of strife and safe from outside threats had left her with little options for happiness and independence. She had high hopes to be the face of change. She never anticipated that her time on Earth would mean she was no longer a face her people trusted.

She neither held the authority that her predecessors and family once held, nor the force of impenetrable will they had. Upon her return, they saw through her in ways she never hoped. The loss of their fearless leader, her caretaker, meant the council that had taken her place in her earthly absence now held a stronger stake of authority than she did. They considered her a traitor for abandoning her post to fight for another planet’s freedom.

Her every move was scrutinized behind the curtains. Her freedom to move now restricted and situations of malice presented to her at every corner, but she endured it all for her people and for peace for this was all greater than her feelings. Behind the scenes, the council served to mock and undermine her and further representing her as a face they no longer needed to serve the planet for they hadn’t abandoned their post.

Her people had lost the will to fight for their princess, their faith had been stripped. It was only so long before the council served their hand, fueled by the growing unrest and loud whispers. It didn’t take long before she found herself becoming the butt of the council’s ruling hand. The And’r name was disgraced, first by her sister, and now her, according to them.

She was back to square one.

Another explosion rocked the corridor, this time powerful enough to knock her down on all fours. She would crawl if she needed to, if it meant she could finally leave and maybe have a chance at saving him.

A roar of cheers and a series of blasts distantly sounded in the dark tunnel. She used it as a guide to trudge further, careful of the falling rocks from the ceiling. It was only a matter of time before the walls collapsed on her. She needed to be quick.  

She panted as her arms shook with heightened weakness, her palms bloody from the sharp, broken rocks in her path. Only a little further now.

You must save yourself for once Koriand’r…

“I must save you, too,” she breathed, her voice cracking as the dust picked up at the end of the tunnel.

The ground shook as something–or someone–fell into the arena where the tunnel led. As the ceiling crumbled, bits of light came through and she could see the silhouette on the ground up ahead, but not who it belonged to. They hadn’t moved since crashing through the ceiling. Her heart hammered in her chest wondering if it was him.

Her short time back on the throne meant her life had become a revolving door of arranged marriages to uphold tradition and for the sake of peace. While Karras had been nice to her and they had become somewhat good friends, their marriage was treated strictly as a deal between star systems. When he died, the council had sought another suitor to occupy his vacant seat. They never anticipated how deep the bond she and her new partner, Ph’yzzon would grow.

Though serving as council puppet much like she was, he was a genuine partner she felt she could confide in. Only he understood the pressure and her wishes. He loved her. He told her once as she wept following a disastrous dinner with the council and leaders of the planet Kyron. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words back, however, as her willingness to succumb to that nagging feeling was behind her. He’d later learn why.

She cared deeply for him, though, in ways she hadn’t in a long time for someone of his caliber. He’d always serve a purposeful portion of her heart for the pain he tried to erase and good memories he created. For the heart he did his best to mend but didn’t question her restraints and for his declaration to help her take down the council when they agreed enough was enough. The battle he prepared to conjure in her honor and the plans they made in case it failed, he was special alright.

“Let them go,” He had said to her when they ran out of options.

But how could she? They were still her people.

They had let her go long ago, she wasn’t their princess anymore. The And’r name, the history, was lost amongst her people, the meaning erased through manipulation. There was no longer any value to the traditional monarchy.

Tamaran was too far gone. No longer was this the planet she called home. That word was reserved for a planet galaxies away, a place she left behind some years ago. A place she once called her home surrounded by her found family.

A face popped in her mind and suddenly the voice in her head no longer spoke Tamaranean, but perfect English. Smooth and easy, calm and poised, encouraging and strong. That voice she missed hearing propelled her forward until she reached that light at the end of the tunnel where the body lay. It wasn’t Ph’yzzon. That meant he was still fighting as her decoy.

Thank X’Hal.

She dared not look up to see any damage. She needed to focus on her part. Just a little longer, she’ll find the entryway to the basement where the ship was waiting to take her out of the castle and off the planet. She stood, though wobbly, and felt around the circled walls for the hidden entryway.

Not many were aware of this place beneath the floors of the castle. Her parents had it built long before she was born, predating even Komiand’r in the event of war. This was a vessel built to conceal and protect royals as they escaped to whatever planetary refuge they could find should the planet fall. She’d learn many were destroyed during upheaval sometime after she had passed infancy so she wasn’t sure what she would find. The last she saw was one from when she and her brother had ventured down there as children.

The council knew about it but had never seen use for it and thus they collected dust beyond the castle floors. It would be her only means of escape as her powers were limited, the matter of how still a mystery to her. Her injured leg from a steel pipe during an earlier scuffle was fairing but would still hinder a fair fight. She was exceptionally weakened even in strength.

Finally, she felt the separation of wall and pushed, the winding stairs appearing before her. With a heavy limp, she made her way down the darkened path. There in the middle of the expansive room was one ship, fitted for one and beyond her reach as Council Te’it stood before it, an expectant smile spread across his aged face, emotionless eyes roaming her weakened appearance. The scar on his chin was usually hard to see, but his malicious beam deepened its appearance, making him to look like the very menace he was.

“You think you are smart, Koriand’r, but you forget I know everything,” he said as he approached. She hated his voice, hated that he spoke in English. That language was sacred to her. She regretted sharing it with him and the rest of the council members.

Her words stuck in her throat, her eyes scanning every footstep. She needed to be ready, even if she wasn’t fully capable, she would fight.

His eyes leveled with hers as he stopped a few feet away, the snark in his smile present. “I’ve known of your plan for some time. I admit, your usage of civil unrest to mask your escape was clever, but you will never make it far. In fact, I’d say I’m sure this will be your last stop.”

Suddenly, his hand shot out, grabbing her neck as he squeezed. She mustered what little strength she had to keep him from going for the kill, but she still struggled to breathe. Where did all her power go? She tried to kick him, but pain shot through her leg, causing her to fail in her effort to fight back.

“What… more… do… you… want from me?” She said, choked out. “You’ve… taken everything.”

He neared her ear, “Your parent’s rule was a mistake. Your sister, your brother you—you were all a mistake. Wrong for this planet. Tarnished by outside influence. I’m ashamed to have served with such a unfit family for so long.” He squeezed a little harder as she scratched his arms in a fight for control. Her vision blurred. “You should’ve stayed with the Citadel. This monarch needed a better rule. One that people could respect. One that wouldn’t mock Tamaran for its kindness.”

He released her suddenly, and she fell to the floor, gasping for air. Her vision was still spotty, and her throat was in searing pain. She attempted to crawl away, but he stepped on her wounded leg, pinning her to the ground and causing her to scream out in pain.

“I should’ve traded you when I had the chance. But at last, a better plan. Why not turn the people into my weapon? Show them how unfit you are to be a ruler’s chair. Show them how weak you have become as I play the master in disguise. Feed them what I want them to hear, make them all of the council’s weapon. And what better way to show their newfound freedom than to puppeteer an attack on the planet their beloved princess traded them for?”

Kori eyes widened. What did he do? What damage has he caused to Earth? Her friends? Her anger was seething and with one kick, she managed to get him off her. A shot of pain seared through her leg.

He didn’t miss a beat. He lifted to the air, a darkened look on his face, “The man you care for honored his duty, but he had grown stupid you see. Sloppy with his trust.”

Kori gasped, “What have you done with Ph’yzzon?”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve, much like you.” Swiftly, he landed behind her and kicked her across the room, her body hitting the back of the ship and leaving a dent and a broken taillight.

She wanted to cry but she held her chin high as she struggled to sit up. Her throat was still burning from his lingering grip. In a matter of a second, he was by her side, lifting her chin to stare into her eyes.

“Tell me, Princess. Do you know why you grow weaker with every move? Why you no longer possess the ability to summon your undeserved powers?”

“I’m sure you will tell you me,” she seethed, glaring at him, wishing she could blast him away with her eye beams, but she failed to muster the power.

He straightened and smiled. “While you lay with your beloved Ph’yzzon, we siphoned every drop he could of your blood, stripping you of you powers ever so slowly. He thought he was helping with an underlying condition he thought you had. A lie I fed him. With every meal he gave you, you feasted on poison that weakened your natural strength. The best part? He didn’t even know it. You can thank the Gordanians for that knowledge on taking what you never deserved.”

He shot to the ceiling, extended his hands and shot green energy across the wall in a display of power, damaging it enough for one side to crumble and exposing several floor through the castle and the purple sky outside. Protests and upheaval could be heard loudly outside the castle.

“My starbolts…”

She watched in horror as she watched him display her powers through destruction. Her body began to burn, her chest restricting as he manically laughed.

“Princess, do not be saddened. Your power is now shared with the lot of your council. They can experience true power, they can no longer be seen as weak. But you, Princess, you are no longer special. And you are no longer needed!”

He blasted a starbolt at her but at the last minute, she rolled to the left and out the way. He threw more, some hitting the ship, further damaging the tail, others closely hitting the ground next to her feet.

“You can run, but you can never hide!”

An eye beam shot to the ground inching closer to her spot near the crook of the ship. She closed her eyes having nowhere left to run, waiting for the inevitable impact. The ground trembled fiercely before her. She opened her eyes to find a giant silhouette blocking the impact of the blast. Their feet skid across the ground as they tried pushing it away from her.

Her eyes widened when she realized who it was. “Ph’yzzon! I thought you were…How?”

“Princess, you must get the ship now!” He said, briefly turning to her. His face and eyes were coated with blood, his gait slouched as he held his arms up to block the blast with his armored band.

“Ph’yzzon…” She froze, unsure what to do. Was this a trap? He betrayed her once. Betrayed her people and her trust, even if Council Te’it claimed he didn’t know. She didn’t know who she could trust.

“Koriand’r, please! I have not much time left. My life… I deserve what is coming to me. But you still have a chance. Please, go!”

She would dwell on her mixed emotions later. Taking his order, she climbed atop the ship and opened the hatch inside. Quickly she closed it back as Ph’yzzon sidestepped the eye beams and flew to Council Te’it in rage. She had no idea how to operate the vessel. There were papers on the side, stuffed into a pocket by the seat. She grabbed them, her eyes quickly scanning the pages as she tried to focus with unclear vision.

She had flown Earth ships before with the Titans, but this ship was built long before the newer models and had a different system than she was used to seeing. In the midst of the papers scattered around and the clashes above, she found the instruction written in her mother tongue. After a few false tries, the ship purred to life. She took a breath in satisfaction; however, her excitement was short-lived as the sound drew the attention of the airborne council.

“You die here, Princess!”

He shot a heavy blast of starbolts to the ship, but Ph’yzzon using the last of his energy shot toward it, blocking the hit. The power threw him to the glass enclosure as a red hole formed on his chest.

“No!” Kori yelled, touching the glass. In that instant, all her questions and her anger dissipated. His hand weakly hovered over hers on the glass, palm-to-palm, a sad smile gracing his lips.

“It was real to me. I’m sorry, Princess. I never meant to hurt you.”

Her heart squeezed as he slid from the glass and to the ground, the ship now in full view of Council Te’it’s sights. Hot tears streamed down her face, and she banged her arms against the console in frustration.

She felt helpless. Betrayed. Angry at the council members, at Ph’yzzon for trying to protect her. Her family, her past, her inability to fight. Herself, more than anything for being so blind.

Let them go.

She turned her eyes to Council Te’it and before he could release another barrage of starbolts, the ship shot through the air, steering toward him, successfully crashing pinning him to the crumbling wall, the ship just short of destroying itself. She backed away, the council falling to the ground, most likely unconscious. Alerts popped up on the console screen directing toward the front damage to the ship.

Before he could come to, she maneuvered the ship through the damaged ceiling and out the castle. She knew he would try to follow, but she would worry about that when the time came.

She couldn’t do this alone, not without power. She looked to the planet below her as she shot by, the unrest wreaking havoc across the land. This was not what she stood for; it was never what she wanted. Her power used to instill fear, to bully and show strength through cowardice. Her planet, her people, they were beyond reach now.

Her eyes became heavy as the pain finally caught up with her. Her throat restricted from the weight of tears she held back. She longed for water.

She did her best, that was all that she could account for. She needed a plan to set everything back to normal, until then, she needed to regroup.

At some point, her fingers typed coordinates onto the navigation screen. Before slumping over the slightly damaged console, her heart skipped a beat as she pictured two faces as she succumbed to her pain.

Chapter Text

Jason blocked another punch, ducking out of the way, the night making it hard to see but also working as an advantage. Each struggle became more fervent, each contact heavier than the last. Jason lost his gun long ago when Nightwing appeared from the shadows with a high kick and his escrimas tossed from distance to knock it out of Jason’s hand.

“Don’t you want to know why I called you hear?” Jason grunted through another block but suffered a hit to his gut. It seemed his brother wasn’t in for the long talk as he pushed Jason back further into the woods with each aggressive attack.

Jason continued playing defense as Nightwing somersaulted around him. Booms of gadgets flying, the sickening sound of fists connected with flesh, and heavy breathing were all that the light breeze carried to the stars. Jason calculated his movements to push them back to where his gun lay in the dirt. With success, he hastily grabbed it and let a shot ring, but Nightwing was quicker than he remembered, dodging the round and advancing once more. Tackling Jason to the ground, he pinned his arms, but Jason refused to let go. Another shot disbursed but skidded across the ground, hitting the base of a nearby tree.

Nightwing raised an arm with one of his steel bars, ready to strike Jason, but Jason let go of the gun and was able to wrestle his way out of his brother’s grip, the escrima stick hitting the ground instead.

“You’re still angry, huh?” Jason sneered between huffs as they stood in a face off. “I see your strength in one arm is a little weaker than before. That wouldn’t be because of me, would it?”

Some part of him knew better than to taunt Nightwing, but the sick satisfaction of seeing his usually calm and collected older brother in unfurled rage was too much to pass up. Nightwing seethed, and in a blink, he was right in front of Jason, tackling him again and landing a weighted punch to Jason’s temple.

Jason didn’t let the disorientation get to him; instead, he flipped them and landed a few punches of his own, his buried frustrations releasing from his fists one hit at a time. Nightwing blocked a few and another wrestle ensued. They tumbled and rolled into a tree from the side, forcing them to separate and stand.

“You will pay for what you’ve done.”

It was the first time Nightwing opened his mouth since he arrived. His voice was low, his tone gruff like he hadn’t slept in a while. In battle, he was usually excited and talkative. But his shoulders were slumped more than usual, his cockiness nowhere to be seen. Jason took a hard look at the man he hadn’t seen in two years. This was not the brother he remembered.

Nightwing charged again, his steel bars in hand and cackling, the unstable light of electricity flashing on his uniform, highlighting the various rips and cuts Jason couldn’t see under the moonlight that was interrupted by encroaching trees.

Jason swiftly picked up his Glock from the ground and fired twice. Nightwing anticipating the aim, dodged the rounds, but didn’t account for Jason to escape his incoming attack. Behind him, Jason swiped Nightwing’s legs, knocking him to the ground.

Almost too easy. His brother was getting tired. Or his rage was eating away at his defense.

Jason decided to toy with him some more. “Your age is starting to show, Dick. You can’t even get a good hit i—”

He spoke too soon. Before Jason could finish, Nightwing hopped back to his feet and powered a punch to his face that sent him flying into a tree, the back of his head connecting with it and giving him an instant headache. He’d give his brother this one.

Jason blinked a few times to steady the swirling black that threatened to shut him down only to be picked by the collar against the tree, the throng on Nightwing’s escrima spilling with electricity at Jason throat that was now exposed from his ripped mask. His sneer and bloody face stared at his similarly disheveled older brother in illuminating flicker.

“What are you going to do, huh? Kill me? You don’t have the guts. You never will!” He successfully pushed Nightwing off him, knocking his stick from his hand, the electricity fizzling out. Nightwing was quick to recover, however. Before Jason could get his next hit in, Nightwing rushed him first, a strong kick landing to his face and knocking him out cold.

Chapter Text

“Get up.”

Jason felt a kick to his side. He slowly came to, his movements constricted and his head foggy. Before him stood his brother, his mask gone, eyes hard and battle ready. There wouldn’t be much of a fight with the way Jason was bound to the base of the tree, but still, Jason wouldn’t be him if he didn’t put on a show.

“Take advantage of me, did ya?” Jason painfully smiled at Nightwing; his own mask discarded across from him on the ground.

Nightwing crouched to level with Jason, completely ignoring his slick mouth. He searched his brother’s face, as if looking for an answer he knew his brother would never unhand. If Jason didn’t have a pounding headache, he’d attempt a headbutt, but the fight had already worn him thin. Instead, he let Nightwing’s curiosity roam as he worked his own formula in his head. He could almost see the wheels turning behind his blue irises.

“You didn’t call me here for a fight,” Nightwing finally said.

“I didn’t call you at all,” Jason quickly retorted.

“You knew I’d come.”

“I’m always weary of you knocking shit down for your own selfish reasons.”

Nightwing huffed and stood. “Why am I here, Jason?”

“You tell me.” Jason could see the steam streaming from Nightwing’s ears. His patience was running low.

“Just fucking tell me, Jason!”

“Might want to rein in your anger. I hear it doesn’t work well for interrogations.”

Nightwing got back in his face. “You know what else doesn’t work? Your fleeting attempts to make everything about you. You’re the main character only in your own story, but no one else’s. And until you understand that you will always end up in the same position.”

Jason didn’t respond; his mischievous smile now dissolved. Nightwing began pacing before him, deep in his own thoughts, probably considering his next move. In all fairness, Jason could’ve just told him about who he had in his dwelling and his brother would likely leave with her and they’d never have to speak again until they clashed. Or maybe he’d blame Jason for her predicament, and they fight for the kill. But a part of him, a part he much rather stays hidden deep within the fabric of his heart, wasn’t ready to reveal his “secret.” Whether it was out of fear of losing him or her, he didn’t know or care to admit.

Jason took a good hard look at his brother, once a man of pride and jubilation. Now in his place was a shell of the man he once was with a bubbling fire of unrest. His movements were stiff, his stock visibly ample but anyone with any bout of knowledge of his brother knew this was not the same Nightwing. He was off—mentally, physically. Emotionally, he was probably more damaged, but Nightwing would never tell, even at his best.

Was this all his doing or hers?

Before he could stop himself, Jason asked, “How long did it take to recover?”

Nightwing paused his pace. “What?”

Jason directed his chin Nightwing’s shoulder. “The shot.”

Nightwing eyed him suspiciously, “The hell does it matter to you?”

“Humor me.”

Nightwing took a beat to answer. Finally, he said, “Longer than it should have.”

Considering the type of bullets he used, Jason wasn’t surprised. Still, the grit in Nightwing’s voice was all the answer he needed. Stalling still, Jason continued pushing his questions. “How long have you been tracking me?”

“Until I lost your signal two year ago.”

Before he got to the island. “And then Roy told you where I was.”

Nightwing frowned, his eyes almost glazing in the dim light of the moon. “No. Roy didn’t tell me. You did.”

It was Jason’s turn to frown. “I never sent you the coordinates.”

“I have Roy’s private communicator.”

Jason was taken aback. “Why?”

Nightwing balled his fist as he said, “Because Roy died a year ago.”

It was like the wind got sucked out of his lungs. They let the air settle with that news for a moment while Jason gathered back his resolve, swallowing that nagging lump in his throat that threatened to ruin his train of thought. There was much he missed it appeared and a lot of questions he had. But as hard as it was, Jason pushed it aside to continue his inquiry. There were bigger issues to deal with now than his feelings.

Jason cleared his throat. “Does anyone else know I’m here?”

Nightwing uncurled his fist, the air around him much tamer now. “No.”

“What about B—”

“Don’t ask about him,” Nightwing shut him down swiftly. “Where are you going with these questions, Jason? Because none of them answer mine. Why am I here?”

“I told you—”

“Bullshit! You’re stalling, for what, I don’t know. But it ends now. You can cut the crap. You wanted me here, so here I am. And don’t give me that bull about settling a score. We both know where that leads.”

Jason clenched his jaw. His eyes wandered far beyond the darkness between the trees to his campground where his hidden home for the last two years sat. It all changes now, he thought. “I have something of yours.”

Nightwing’s eyebrows furrowed, now taken aback himself. “What?” he asked, clearly confused.

Before Jason could finally answer, the ground beneath them began to violently shake, throwing Nightwing off his feet. Jason, still tied to the tree, attempted to stand to align vertically with the tree in case it fell. A roar of energy burst into the air, green light shooting straight for the sky, the rush of power seeking release into the open air.

From where he held, Jason could see debris shooting from the ground, the energy coming directly from his bunker a bit away. And there, he saw her, rising with within the surge of energy, her hair and limbs dangling beneath her as her bare body horizontally lifted higher and higher as if gods were calling to her.

Jason couldn’t peel his eyes away as he stood there in panic and awe so much so that he hadn’t realized his binds had been loosed and Nightwing had reclaimed his footing and shot off toward her.