Work Text:
He’s home.
The streets are empty and the people scarred but God, he’s home. He’s home. Ring on his hand and thoughts his and-
He sits in the dark. It’s cowardly in the way he can't allow himself, but his lights are off, and his living-room is empty, and he’s always loathed darkness, nevermind that that’s what dwells between stars.
His mind weighs with a hundred regrets, which is just fear turned sour. Hal is a thousand, a million, and three specific things, and most of all he is not a coward.
Anymore, at least.
So he reaches; his phone lights up and he blinks at it, the first source of light he’s seen in a while, with his curtains drawn shut and his body heavy and his thoughts weights pinning him to the ground.
Ollie’s always said to call. Ollie’s always- Ollie’s always been there. He wears green and he jokes with him and kept his ring and-
His thumb hovers over the name. It would be easy to tap on it, to let it ring; easier, though, to back out of it, to pretend he is good enough for his will to carry him through everything, every little regret and every corpse and the trust lost.
He is Hal Jordan. He is a Green Lantern. He is not afraid. He has no right to be.
He is, perhaps, a little lonely. Perhaps, a little tormented. Perhaps, a little stressed.
Perhaps.
Sometimes his mind rings with echoes of all the times his will didn’t save him, of the times it was twisted. Sometimes it takes more effort than it should rightly should to shake off the light of the tunnel and Parallax and Sinestro and Batman’s fucking bullshit-
He doesn’t bow down to authority. His cockiness got him killed. Those should not work together and yet they do.
He is Hal Jordan, and his living-room is empty, and he thinks, perhaps, it is a bad idea for him to be alone right now.
He is Hal Jordan. He is a Green Lantern. Fear has no hold on him.
He clicks on Ollie’s name.
oOo
“Hal,” greets Ollie, outfit casual, hands in his pockets, worry visible but not overpowering. “You called? God, it’s good to see you.”
He swallows past his guilt. “Hi, Ollie,” he greets, perhaps more subdued than he should be, and Ollie tenses, imperceptibly so. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” reassures Ollie. “Are you kidding? For once you call me, and it’s not with the universe’s potential destruction on the horizon.” He laughs. “It’s basically a miracle.”
Hal feels the smile settle on his face. It must look too sentimental for their usual interactions, too flighty, but Ollie’s Ollie, so he gracefully doesn’t mention it.
“You suggested food,” he says instead. “I’m due food, Hal. Still recovering from saving your damn ass.”
His bandages are almost all gone. It eases the vice on his heart, just a bit. “Sure, anything for the damsel in distress,” retorts Hal. Ollie rolls his eyes at him. “There’s- uh. What do you want to eat?”
Ollie shrugs with one shoulder, winces, seems to regret all of his decisions leading up to this instant for a moment. “Don’t care,” he answers. “Give me a hot-dog, I’ll be fine with that. I’m pretty sure every city has some.”
Hal feels his shoulders lose some of their tension. “We should manage,” he agrees. They wander along the streets in front of Hal’s apartment, until they stumble upon a hot-dog stall. Hal asks for two. Ollie tries to pay instead of him. Hal threatens him with bodily harm and asks if the hero’s complex finally commandeered every aspect of his life. Ollie asks if he’s always been this funny, ha ha.
It’s nice. They catch up, wandering and eating. Oliver asks after Carol ( she’s good) and John (he’s recovering) and Guy (he’s pleased about having his ring back) and Kyle (the kid’s fine, Ollie’s trying to beat self-esteem into him) and Kilowog (gruff and slightly shaken, but ultimately the same, as far as Hal knows) and Ganthet (who the fuck even knows). Hal asks after Mia (reckless), Superman (the same?), Wonder Woman, (she’s… Wonder Woman), Flash (why don’t you just call him Wally, Hal?), Batman (are you still feeling guilty about them, Hal?).
“He’s an asshole”, says Ollie seriously. “In general, and also in particular, right now. Don’t pay mind to what they think.”
“He’s the leader,” points out Hal, feeling naked without his jacket. “I’ve brushed authority aside before- look where it got me.”
“He’s everything you stand against, and also an asshole,” scoffs Ollie. “And you’d be the first one to say that usually.”
“No, that would be Guy.”
Ollie smiles in acknowledgement. “Don’t change the subject, Hal.”
Hal shrugs. “Trying to do right by all of you, I suppose. I’ve made a mess.”
Ollie frowns. “Parallax did,” he protests. “You didn’t.”
They’ve stopped in the middle of the street, passerbys weaving around them. Hal casts his gaze for courage and catches the green of a tree and says, “I was Parallax.”
“...No,” says Ollie, annoyingly patient. “From what Kyle told me, Parallax was a billion light-years old entity made to consume and create fear.”
Hal blinks. “Hmmm,” he hums in agreement, and when that sounds too quiet he drags out a “sure, yeah,” out of his throat. Standing still feels uncomfortable. “Can we keep moving?”
Ollie starts walking again. “Hal, Parallax was very distinctly not you,” he says. Hal trails a bit behind him, then forces himself to be level.
“Well, it’s complicated,” he replies, and tries not to feel cold and like his body is not his own. It’s not to hard to do; it’s a summer day and Ollie is right there. “He was me- but he also wasn’t. But- sometimes he was. The thing I did- Coast City- you weren’t there,” he finishes lamely, which is great euphemism for you were dead. “You weren’t there, so you don’t know, but I- did things. And Parallax isn’t an all-out excuse. It shouldn’t be.”
Ollie scoffs. “You and John,” he says. “Responsible through and through. He was messing with your mind, Hal. If it was anyone but you you wouldn’t say anything. If it was Kyle- Guy- John- even the fucking Batman, you would forgive in a heartbeat.”
“You’re giving me far too much credit,” mutters Hal. They’ve reached a park. Ollie veers off-course to enter and Hal follows.
“Hal, you died,” says Ollie. “Remember? Sacrificed yourself before a burning sun to make things right? It wasn’t you. Pal, buddy, it wasn’t you. Believe me. I know you.”
His shoulders sag. “It was still-” his voice trembles, which is disgraceful. He didn’t come here to beg pity or absolution from Ollie. Maybe he did.
“I let him in,” he says finally. “I made the mistakes-”
“ Mistakes , Hal,” interrupts Ollie. “Not betrayal. Mistakes. Those can be excused. They have to, otherwise none of us would still be in service. You’ve excused mine.”
“I have responsibility,” he insists.
Ollie looks at him. “Yeah,” he finally agrees, very unconvincingly. “Yeah, sure! And you shouldered them when you kicked Sinestro’s ass, and then Parallax’s for good measure.”
Hal opens his mouth to protest. Ollie puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “I don’t care, Hal. I’ve always believed in you. Everyone thought you’d lost it and I still did, and I was right. You’re never going to be able to convince me.”
It’s so unbearably kind, and so heart-wrenchingly true. What was it he repeated to himself, hours earlier, trying to have the courage to call? Ollie’s always been there.
Hal lets out a long, shuddery breath. Ollie’s brow creases on worry, and he guides him to a nearby hill. “Let’s sit down a bit,” he suggests.
Hal follows. The grass is soft and alive under his hands. He holds off his tears for as long as he can and when they break through they are silent.
“Hal,” says Ollie, calm and composed and more than he deserves. “Hal, you have to know that.”
It’s earnest. Hal laughs shakily. “I’ve missed you, Ollie,” he says as an answer, and Ollie very, very gingerly leans their shoulders together.
“Me too, pal,” he says. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”
It’s his responsibility to bear it. He has no right to fear.
But hiding would be cowardly.
“I’m afraid,” he whispers like a secret, like everyone who sees him can’t tell immediately, like it’s not a great big stain on his soul. “Ollie, I’m so afraid- what if it comes back? What if I fuck it all up again? Fear is what it feeds on and I can’t stop being afraid. What if it takes over again? What if this time I can’t stop it? What if something worse comes along?”
Ollie stays silent for a bit. “Well, I don’t know what the Corps’ policy is on fear, not really,” he says. “But from what I can say, you’re still wearing your ring.”
Hal chokes on a breath. Ollie looks at him, too serious.
“You’re still wearing it,” he repeats. “And you saved me. And you saved yourself, too, and I must imagine that you were pretty damn terrified at some point, during that, right?”
“I-” tries to say Hal, but Ollie carries on.
“I don’t know whatever it is the Corps say,” he muses. “I think they’re wrong about a lot of things. That they expect you to always answer to them, and never make mistakes. Which is just-” he laughs, darkly- “wrong.”
“It’s not supposed to-”
“I think,” says Ollie, ignoring him, “that you’ve always been afraid, and you’ve always been damn brave enough to ignore that.”
Hal closes his eyes.
Overcoming great fear. That’s the requirement.
“So you can be afraid,” says Ollie. “I have no doubt you’ll push through. It’s never stopped you before. It didn’t stop you two minutes after being revived- it didn’t even stop you dead, you fought against Parallax still.”
“With help.”
“You fought. You’ll push through,” repeats Ollie. “In the meantime, I’m happy to be your help. I’ve never been wrong to believe in you.”
And Hal-
Inhales. Exhales. Overcoming great fear. Hal may be a lot of things, but he’s not a coward.
“I would appreciate,” he says, so very bravely, “some help.”
Maybe he didn’t want pity or absolution: maybe he just wanted a way forward. Ollie has a better aim than he does.
“Okay,” agrees Ollie. “Of course. I’m always there. You can always call. What’d you wanna do first?”
Hal inhales. Gets up.
“Maybe we start with a flight.”
Ollie laughs and gets up as well. “See? You’re the same bastard,” he accuses, and gathers him into a hug, in the middle of the park, under the sun, the both of them alive.
Hal relaxes into it, brings his hands up to return it. “I’ve missed you,” repeats Ollie.
Hal blinks. “Of course you have,” he answers. “I’m wonderful.”
Ollie laughs, maybe a bit wetly. Hal doesn’t mention it. They’re still hugging. It’s nice.
The sun is up, and there’s a way forward.