Chapter 9: Doubts and Second Thoughts

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Jason, still near the cockpit, barely had time to react before the next attack came—a jet engine turbine ripped through the air, heading straight toward him. Roy didn't even think. With a desperate, adrenaline-fueled rush, he lunged forward and shoved Jason out of the way, narrowly saving him from a decapitating blow.

The two men crashed into the side of the cabin, disoriented and shaken, but alive.

Jason shook off the shock first, his eyes darting toward Roy.

"You okay?" Jason growled, though his tone was colder than usual.

Roy just nodded, wincing slightly as his wrist protested the motion. "What the hell just happened?"

Jason's face darkened as he realized the situation had escalated. Whoever was attacking them had no intention of letting them leave this unscathed.

"We're not alone," Jason muttered, rising to his feet. "And that wasn't an accident."

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Jason stared at Roy's leg, where the turbine's impact had left a gash. He could barely wrap his head around it. Roy had saved him.

"You... saved me," Jason said, disbelief in his voice. "But you— I—" He sighed in frustration. "You're supposed to be on Batman's side."

Roy winced but met Jason's gaze. "Dude, we're on the same side. Batman was your dad. I don't know what Ra's did to you in that room, but whatever he told you, it's wrong. Do you really not remember anything?"

Jason paused, clearly troubled. Instead of answering, he walked over to the control panel, his movements jerky as he attempted to land the plane as smoothly as possible. Once the plane finally touched down, he turned back to his friend.

"You're injured," Jason pointed out, his voice hard. "I'll have to bandage that, so I don't have to carry you everywhere."

"I'm fine," Roy insisted, his voice strained from the pain.

Jason crossed his arms, unfazed. "You have a sprained wrist—"

"That was your fault," Roy interrupted.

Jason scowled. "You have a sprained wrist, a big cut on your leg, and your leg is probably broken."

"Fine. Whatever," Roy sighed, slumping back as best he could, eyes closed. "Just don't make a big deal out of it."

******************************************************


Jason stood up, looking down at Roy. "You should be able to walk now," he said, untying Roy's legs with an abrupt motion. "Get up. We're going to find another jet or something."

Roy groaned in protest, still nursing his injuries. "Come on! I thought we agreed that I'm on your side!" he whined, glancing warily at the gun that was now pointed at his head.

"I said," Jason gritted his teeth, "Get up! Before there is nothing of you left to stand. Just because you saved my life once doesn't mean I suddenly trust you and we become best friends."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Well, I thought me saving you did mean you would trust me," he retorted, his voice light with a hint of humor. "And we kind of are best friends. At least... we were, until Ra's messed with your head."

"No," Jason snapped, his voice tight with anger, "We weren't! Batman only told you to pretend to be my friend so he could always have an eye on me! Now, start walking and stop talking or I promise you, I will shoot."

Roy flinched at the coldness of Jason's words, his heart aching for his friend. The outburst shocked him, but it was clear Ra's had done more than just manipulate Jason's anger—he had twisted his entire view of everything and everyone.

Stunned by the sudden change, Roy hesitated but then forced himself to keep walking. His shoulders slumped, frustration bubbling up. Ra's had really done a number on Jason—pulling on all his doubts and hatred for Batman. How was Roy supposed to fight that?

But as Roy glanced over at Jason, he felt a spark of resolve. You have to try, he told himself. You almost got through to him on that plane, before something made his doubts come rushing back. Besides, you owe Jason for everything he's done for you.

Reinvigorated by his thoughts, Roy pushed himself forward, walking faster. He wasn't going to give up on his friend. Not now, not ever. He wasn't going to let Ra's win.

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