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Five years after Roy Harper’s death, Jason found himself seated idly beside the archer’s headstone. He'd been there for an hour or so, simply staring at the carved name.
Roy William Harper, Jr.
1990-2016
A caring friend to many.
He hated that engraving. He hated the gravestone, he hated the way the grass had slowly grown back, as if it'd never been disturbed in the first place. He hated that all there was to mark Roy Harper’s presence in this world was a small headstone beside his dad's in a cemetery in Starling City. He deserved more. Roy had lived and died saving lives. He'd been a hero. Most heroes, they got memorials. They got In Memoriam posts on social media, their picture on the news, candles and flowers left on a street corner. Roy Harper? Arsenal? He got a grave beside the father he hated. He got a funeral that most of the Justice League and their allies had come to, and Jason had stood at the front of them, beside a man named Oliver Queen, not even bothering to wonder if things could've been different.
Jason sighed, and tore his eyes away from the name. Instead he looked at the flowers lying at the headstone’s base. A couple of them he'd left there himself, and the others were probably Ollie’s. They didn't serve much of a purpose, he knew. In fact, it'd probably been a dumb purchase considering his ever tight budget. But he'd felt the need to leave something.
Because five years after his death, Jason still missed Roy. He missed his dumb lopsided grin, his loud obnoxious laugh that, no matter how hard he tried, Jason couldn't recall. He missed the mornings when he'd wake up and find that Roy had been up all night working on some new weapon, or binge-watching something on Netflix. He missed having someone to watch his back when he went on missions, helping Roy collect his arrows after a fight because they couldn't afford supplies for new ones. He missed the rusty red hair and stupid jokes and the late nights where they both fell asleep on the couch because they were too damned exhausted from the mission to make it to their rooms. He missed being able to trust someone as much as he'd trusted Roy Harper.
“You know, I never really was the kind to talk to a slab of stone. That's something Dick or Bruce would do.”
He was met with silence. He shifted his gaze to the ground. The grass was too green here- too bright. Too much the color of Roy's eyes.
“You're an ass, you know that? We were doin’ good, for once. A lot of good. But you had to go and die for a group of people you’d just met.” He paused and let out a dry laugh. “But that's just who you were, wasn't it? A reckless hero. ...I shouldn't blame you, I know. It's just easier."
Jason lifted his eyes back to the headstone, wishing that Roy's image in his mind was a little less faded.
“Things have been.. Things have been good. Better at least. I quit smoking. Dick and Babs are having their ‘official’ wedding in a few months- yeah, they finally got over themselves and got together. Dick.. he actually asked me to be his best man. I.. I agreed to. ..Kori still comes around, sometimes. We went on a mission together last month. It was nothing big, but.. it was good. To reconnect.”
He paused, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at it. “Well, I’ve got a flight to catch. I’ll.. I’ll see you around.” His voice cracked. He let out a shaky breath and stood, not looking back as he made his way out of the cemetery.