Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One — Origins
1989 ; eight
“For history always favored tragedies and it’s a damn shame they liked you too.”

When the newly orphaned, tiny four-year-old Arley Gluck had been thrown unceremoniously and headfirst into the Gotham foster system it’d been sink or swim. Her first family had been one of the worst as they had taken to locking her in the hall closet for hours on end as punishment. Sometimes Arley’s punishment would— could; had —last for days, as it all really depended on when her foster parents remembered to let her out. 

Or at least— when they couldn’t remember to do that —the length of her punishments depended on when her foster parents needed something from the closet. 

After them, once her caseworker had found out what was going on, there had been a string of several neglectful families. None of them had necessarily been abusive— none of them had hit Arley or the other kids that had been placed with the young girl, Arleys fosters had just simply forgot they were all there until their checks came only for the cycle to them continue —and so by the time she had once more found herself slipping through the cracks of the system, back into homes like her first, Arley had been six.

And by the time she was eight, all knobby knees and blank looks but curiously natured and still at her very core, good, Arley had found herself living in the Hartford household. 

By the time her caseworker had brought to the small brownstone there’d already been two foster boys living in the house— they were brothers; Henry who was eleven and Thomas who was five —amongst Emilia and Ryan Hartfords own sixteen-year-old son, Denis. 

Denis wasn’t like his parents, it hadn’t taken Arley long to pick that up. Honestly it hadn’t even taken Arley a full week to clock that because while Emila and Ryan Hartford were tall and beautiful— Emilia had honey blonde curls that were almost always done up into a messy sort of bun and Ryan had a chiseled jaw and they both had these kind of infectious laughs that drew you in and made you smile, even if you didn’t want to —Denis Hartford just wasn’t.

He was lanky and awkward and his face was riddled in pimples and acne scars, his front teeth crisscrossed and had taken on a yellowish tint and though the sixteen-year-old had inherited his parents height he was always hunched over, making himself seemingly smaller. 

And unlike his parents, when he would speak to Arley— when he would clumsily tack on at the end of his sentences and call her ‘Sweetheart’ like Emilia did —the girl would feel her skin crawl. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t ‘Sweetheart’ and instead had been ‘Cutie’, every time the teenage boy would lean over her so that he could talk to her, Arley’s gut screamed at her to get out. Her gut would scream at her to run; that danger was nigh.

He also, unlike his parents, watched Arley. 

Denis would watch her when she would sit in the living room doing her homework and across the table at dinner while they ate— and Arley pointed would avoid meeting his eyes —and sometimes, at night when his father was locked away in the office and his mother was still in the living room, Denis would keep his bedroom door open and watch as she came out of the bathroom, with her hair still dripping and the towel the Hartfords had lent to her clutched and wrung between her fingers, almost as if that was what he had been waiting for.

In foster care— when you’re on your own —there are certain looks you need to watch out for. Hungry, unabashed looks; Arley had heard past foster siblings talk about those looks— about the kind of beady gazes that drilled into your back, the ones that, if you stood still enough, were almost as if they were trying to make you turn around —and about what always happened after them.

The same kind of thing always came after those kinds of looks went ignored. And at eight Arley had been starved, she’d been locked away and beaten, nearly run over once when she’d fled from the home she’d been staying in just to get away from the pan her foster mother had been wielding, and yet she knew there were still worse fates out there. 

So three months after she had gotten to the Hartford home, a week after Denis— because she had known it was Denis, there was no one else it could be —had tried to wiggle the locked door of the bathroom while she had been showering, Arley, in the dead of night, unpacked her homework and her books from her backpack and quietly laid them on her bed, careful not to make too much noise.

The walls of the Hartford home were thin, if Emelia and Ryan didn’t hear her from the hall and stop her then Denis two rooms down could and though Arley had pushed the small hamper in front of the bedroom door that wouldn’t stop Denis. Denis might not have been anything other than a creep but he could still push over an empty wicker basket.

And if none of the Heratford woke up because she had made noise then Arley still had to worry about  both Thomas and Henry, who were next door asleep. Like her they were light sleepers and if they heard her moving around a quarter after one in the morning one of them— curious Thomas or concerned Henry —would come to see why and she couldn’t let them know she was leaving.

Not because she thought they would try to stop her— they wouldn’t stop her anymore than she would try to stop them; not when Henry had taken to walking her to her room at night, and not when Thomas made sure to always sit next to her on the couch, cornering her between himself and the the arm of the couch —but because looking weak was practically a death sentence. 

Maybe that was over dramatic but to say so wasn't wrong. Over the years Arley had found that sometimes empty eyes and blank faces were the only thing that could save you. If you looked like nothing in the universe could hurt you because you’d already been through it all then sometimes whoever was toying you— beating on you to the point the world was spinning and you shook just to suck in a breath of air —would pause.

And sometimes they wouldn’t stop but they would always— always —pause when they caught that look and thought sometimes that pause was only for a moment, it would be that momentary pause that would save your life and Arley knew, deep in her gut, that the boys— the brothers —couldn’t see the frightened look in her eyes that overtook the blank look she’d learned to perfect.

They couldn’t see her turning tail and running away. 

So once she had stuffed her clothing into the bag and after she had made her way down to the kitchen to tuck some food into her bag— all the time with her breath caught in her throat —Arley crept out into the cold late October Gotham air and onto the dark and desolate streets. 

At the curb, outside the small brownstone that was the Hartford residence Arley stilled. Gotham was dangerous, the gangs and the mobs and the dealers all ran the streets while the cops either sat back and watched or gleefully participated. At eight, just as she knew what would happen to her if she stayed in the house standing behind her any longer, Arley knew that if she left— if she ran away —she wouldn’t survive.

At least, not long term. She would make it a little while, maybe a few months, maybe even a year but she would never live to reach her mothers age; she would probably never even reach her teens, and yet Arley still stepped off the curb, and continued on down the streets.

Because Arley, by the age of eight, had perfected the perfect poker face and refused to allow the universe to see just how scared and uncertain she really was.

…

When Arley had learned to pickpocket she had been six, a foster brother of hers had known how to, and when a character they had been watching on television had done it wrong Roger had pointed it out so loudly and so forcefully— ‘That’s not how you fucking do it!’ —Arley hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking what was the right way. 

She hadn’t thought about ever using that skill until two weeks after she had left the Hardford residence, when the box of crackers, the trail mix and three cans of ravioli she had smuggled into her bag were all gone; when her stomach had begun clenching in pain Arley knew she didn’t have much of a choice.

So when she stole the wallet of a business woman— a dark haired woman with heels that clicked against the Gotham concrete —and the money clip belonging to a broad shouldered, dark haired young man not much older than her, Arley only felt sort of bad as she pocketed the small handful of bills and left the rest of it— the silver clip, the expensive looking wallet and the rest of its contents —in some disgusting park bathrooms garbage. 

Because she knew she wouldn’t make it out on the streets for long. She could feel it in her bones, every night she wedged herself between the alleyway wall she had started staying in and the dumpster she used as cover to hide herself from both the weather and danger.

But just because she knew she would die sooner rather than later didn’t mean she was just going to rollover and die; she was a girl who had perfected the ropeadope before she had learned to ride a bike, she wasn’t going down without some sort of a fight.

…

Arley might have been Jewish— or at least, Arley’s social services file said she might have been Jewish; her mother wasn't religious and her father had come to Gotham at fourteen from Israel —but when the local Catholic church had a coat drive for the city's homeless population Arley made the sign of the cross at the door before she got in line to pick up a coat from the graying priest that waited at the alters steps.

One by one as the line moved down and the priest and his altar boys handed out coats, and the line moved up, Arley couldn’t help but look out at the cloudy smogy covered skies through the clear parts of the church's stained glass windows. 

She’d been on the streets for a month at that point and the people reading the paper on the train early that morning had said something about snow. Arley supposed the weather man was right, it had been getting colder for the past week and half and the blanket she had stolen— because at that point it wasn’t like she would ever give the blanket back —from the Hartfords had been doing next to nothing to project her from the cold weather at night.

If she’d had a winter jacket of her own when she had left she would have taken it but a month ago it hadn’t yet been cold enough for Emilia to pick any of the children under her roof up the winter coats she had been promising to get them.

Slowly as Arley made her way up to the priest, her face blank and her fingers curled tightly into a ball, Arley prepared herself to run. He could try to make her go back to the Hartfords or some other family in the system but he wouldn’t succeed.

Arley was tired, tired of being knocked around; people got jumped on the streets all time time but in her month on them no one had hit Arley, and for the life of her, she couldn't remember what that was like. The streets were dangerous and Arley was going to die on them but for the moment she was safe and she had been more free over the past few weeks than ever before and though she was cold, Arley would have rather frozen that night then back in the Hartfords residence, waiting.

“You look a little young to be here by yourself,” the Father said as Arley moved to stand in front of him. “Is your mother here with you?”

“She’s sick,” Arley said, not technically lying through her teeth. Her mother was in the hospital; she’d been attacked years ago by some gang that’d left her comatose after nearly beating her to death. Arley couldn’t even remember what her voice sounded like anymore, what her smile looked like.  “There ain’t any heat in the apartment.”

The priest didn’t look like he bought her story, his brown eyes traced over her cheekbones— she’d been skinny before the streets, she hadn’t had a real chance to bulk up at the Hardfords before she had ran, and with the last thing she’d eaten being a fifty-cent honey bun the day before, her skin looked pale and waxy and sunken in —before he eyed her dirt covered clothes. 

Arley looked like every other homeless person in the room, she didn’t look like the kind of kid that had any kind of room to go back to; yet, with a sigh, the priest turned his back and riffled through a large cardboard box before handing Arley one jacket.

The dark colored bubble jacket was clearly second hand, it was worn and some of the thread by the left wrist was loose and the black paint that had been on the zipper had been rubbed away from a year or two so of use use leaving it silver; the jacket was also was obviously— at least —two sizes to big for her but nonetheless, with a thankful smile, Arley took the jacket from the priest and slipped it on over her shoulders.

It seemed to swallow her whole as she zipped it up; Arley buried her nose in the neck of the jacket and before she could turn to leave the priest put his withered hand on her shoulder

For a minute Arley saw white. Her heart beat loudly in her throat as her eyes seemed to look both widely around her— at the exists, to see if there was anyone else coming up on her sides to grab her and ship her back to the system —and solely at the priest in front of her.

“Here,” the Father said, in his other hand held a card, “Take this.” 

Arley did; Detective Jim Gordan, it read in blue, underneath in smaller letters was a phone number. Her eyes knitted together as she looked questioningly back up at the priest.

“In case that mother of yours—” he said knowingly, “—Ever needs help. Jimmy’s a good man, tell him Father Fitz gave you the card.”

“Thanks,” Arley said, she folded the card in half before stuffing it in her jacket pocket; the moment the priest let go of her Arley practically ran from him. He wouldn’t have hurt her, he was a priest in a room full of people and he hadn’t called anyone when she had stepped up— he had given her the jacket —but still, Arley didn’t stop running until she had passed one of the Gotham Public Libraries four blocks away. 

Panting, clouds of breath puffed out from the young girl as she pushed her back against the wall and bent over— her palms against her knees —as she tried to catch her breath.

Slowly, as she rolled back up, swallowing down anymore out of breath pants, Arley looked straight ahead as she forced her eyes to harden. If she could give someone pause, even for a moment, then she might be okay. 

Her hands slipped into her pockets; her fingers curled around the card Father Fitz had given her. A cop would throw her back into the system; if not he’d find out about the wallet and money clip she’d stolen the month before and send her to jail. 

And if he didn’t do either of those two options then he was dirty and there was no telling what he would do to a young street girl like herself; Arley had heard stories of girls being picked up by cops— but not arrested and charged and booked —and sold to the gangs. Some of those girls had gotten free and made it back to the system, some of them had been Arleys foster siblings. Others Arley had spoken to over the past month in passing, outside bodegas and in the park whenever they tried to tell her about how their man took care of them and wouldn't mind taking care of her too despite being so young.

But that was why she'd run. She wouldn't be like them; they never took offense when she said that. So no matter what he was, dirty or not, Arley knew she couldn’t call the cop. 

Pushing down any worry— any guilt, any fear that riddled her body —Arley started off, back towards the alleyway she had started to call home. She needed a game plan on how to get more money, on how to stay safe.

She might not live long on the streets but she was going to survive as long as she could, there wasn’t any other option. 

…

Stealing was dangerous as it was, stealing some kids homework so that she knew more than the average third-grade drop out was dangerous and stupid but Arley liked learning, she loved reading and maybe she didn’t care for math or science but with that being the only thing undone in the backpack she had snatched from the local mall, Arley was thrilled.

12 x 12 = ?

With a frown Arley thought One-hundred-forty-four.

Arley flipped to the back of the paper and looked at the times tables she had written down; everything from one to fourteen. Skimming it with her dirty pointer finger Arley quickly found out that she was right and beamed down at the piece of paper.

Maybe she would never see the inside of Gotham's public middle school and learn everything a normal kid did, but at least she would know basic math and— looking around at the homeless people that littered the train station; some were passed out and the ones who weren’t panhandling laughed loudly to themselves or between one another —that was more than what some people got to know.

…

Arley wasn’t blind and she wasn’t inept, she knew the dirty hostile looks parents threw at her in the park were telling to get farther away. With her dark hair clumped together and her clothing stained and practically ruined, Arley truly looked as homeless as she was and parents didn’t like homeless people— adults or children —around their own kids.

Ever since the snow from the flurry had melted and Gotham had been lucky not to be hot with the storm that had passed over the rest of the state— and New York —it was as if kids knew their time outside was limited and had taken to spending their every waking moment outside, dragging their parents— and their parents money —outside with them.

Hanging from the chain link fence that went around the park, Arley watched as children younger than her ran around on the jungle gym and mothers in the corner of the park pushed their small toddlers— all of whom looked like colorful marshmallows in their winter jackets —on the swings.

There’d been foster siblings who’d been tasked with watching her and the other younger kids, sometimes they would take her and the others out to a park— because Lord help any of them if something in the house broke —but no one ever pushed Arley like the mothers were pushing their kids.

No one had laughed with Arley— made her laugh —the way those mothers were making their kids laugh. 

Or maybe someone had. Maybe once upon a time her mother had made her laugh.

Back in foster care her social worker would take her to visit her mother— very rarely —sometimes a foster sibling or parent would take her, but ever since she had hit the street Arley hadn’t been to see her mother.

She couldn’t have; not when she had just left and that would be the first place police and social services looked for her and not now when she looked more garbage monster than human, a nurse would surely call the police on her.

Arley’s heart clenched, she wanted to see her mother, she wanted to hold the woman's hand up to her face just to feel her warmth. She wanted to see if the nurse who watched her mother still painted her nails bright yellow or if the young woman had switched to a different color. 

Arley Gluck wanted her mother; she was eight and alone. 

All alone, but safe, at least for the time being. 

Swallowing those feelings Arley pushed herself off the fence and started out of the park, she couldn’t miss her mother— couldn’t make herself weak and a target —not if she was going to survive for as long as she could.

…

Arley had never made things easier in her life— at least, if not especially, for herself —and she knew it. 

When she used to go, teachers used to say she was too smart for her own good; the way they’d say it though always implied she was anything but smart. 

Past foster siblings used to say straight out she was ‘Dumbass’ whenever she had broken a plate so that a past foster father would stop going after someone else and turn his attentions onto her—because she knew she could take a beating, not like the kid they’d just been wailing on —or whenever she would rudely butt-in when a past foster mother would be screaming at one of the younger kids, or so on.

Arley knew on some level that they were all right, that while she might be smart but she was also an idiot.

They had to be, because Arley knew that while she could be considered smart— she knew her multiplication tables and she even knew a little bit of algebra —she couldn’t actually be considered anything but a dumbass, not when it was snowing and she didn’t know how to start a fire.

Algebra and knowing history facts weren’t going to save her. Despite knowing how to write a haiku, Arley knew that only an idiot would forget  to check how much fluid the only lighter they owned had left, especially before all the bodega’s shut down on the night of what was supposed to be a snow storm.

Leaving Arley— the idiot  —to find herself underneath the large industrial garbage she usually slept behind because the concrete under the garbage— though smelly and stained with leakage from the dumpster—would be dry.

…

The harbor was smelly and at night it was gated off so that no one would fall in and drown but it was the only place in Gotham you could see the stars, even a little bit.

Arley’s breath came out in cloudy puffs as she looked between her book on constellations and the night sky. She’d stolen the book from the library; she’d return it through one of the drop off boxes after she was done but until then she would read about Orion and Artemis and all about Callisto and Arcas.

She might not have been able to go to school anymore but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn

…

It was still the early half of December when Arley snuck into an old Gotham movie theater. Though graffiti littered the outside of the building— and the famous Waynes had been slayne years ago only two blocks away; that’s all the theater was known for nowadays, ‘The last place the Waynes were’ —the theater still ran somewhat early showings.

They weren’t good movies— Some Girls, Catch Me If You Can, When The Whales Came —but they were something to watch while she got out of the cold until an usher chased her out and back into it and though the movie was bad— and a re-release, not even something new —Arley kind of hoped she got to see the end of Pumpkinhead.

She had at some point gotten invested in the badly made movie.

…

Arley was a street rat, she a stupid street rat who wouldn’t live to see double digits; it was why adrenaline was pumping through her veins. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Arley thought as she ran.

A cop had chased her away from her ally two nights ago, apparently there’d been complaints and while she didn’t have to go home she couldn’t stay there anymore so Arley had found herself relocated in an old abandoned warehouse that she was ready to call her own.

At least until two men in leather jackets had brought a third one in; the third man was smaller. He had his arms tied behind his back and his nose was bloody and broken and he was sobbing. Begging really.

“I have a wife, a baby girl!” He pleaded as the men pushed him to the ground and onto his knees. One of them was blonde, the other was bald and they both looked like the kind of men Arley would cross the street if she saw.

They looked dangerous.

“Please!” The third man sobbed once more, his accent thick. Arley knew well enough that it was Russian, or at least something like that, “Please you don’t have to do this, I-I will give whatever you want. Please do not take me away from my family! Please don’t take me away from my little girl, my Annabelle! Please!”

The man tried to get back up, back to his feet so that he could make the armed men look him in the eyes, and Arley, the moron she was— past foster siblings were right, she was a dumbass —would say she didn’t think but she did. 

Because as she saw the man being forced back to the ground all she saw was her father, a young jewish kid semi-fresh off the boat he had smuggled himself on, all on his own in Gotham— a new father; in the one picture she had of her father he was seventeen and holding her and he looked so happy his face had probably hurt from smiling that much —being gunned down and all she thought about was how his kid would be her one day. 

How it would be. How she had once been someone else and this man's daughter Annabelle would be her and how someone had to do something, and how that someone was her.

When Arley would say she didn’t think, she would mean she didn’t think about throwing the already broken bottle at the back the head of one of the men in leather— the bald one —because she had been thinking how she was as good as dead anyway and how that new born baby girl— Annabelle, the man on his knees had sobbed out that name —wouldn’t be her.

The man the bottle had hit dropped. His gun clattered to the floor and Arley, standing half behind a large crate made eye contact with the blonde man; his flinty gray eyes ignited and Arley darted out from behind the crate as he took his first shot.

She was okay with dying, but that didn’t mean she would stand there and let him shoot her. Arley had never made life easier on herself and she wasn’t about to make it easy for the man about to kill her either.

The man who’d been forced to his knees fell back as Arley rushed out of the warehouse; the armed blonde man on her tail. 

“Come back here!” He shouted, his voice held his own accent; it sounded like the same kind of accent man he had tried to kill had. The man he had meant to kill.

Arley had grown up hearing gunfire— everyone in East Gotham had —but it had never echoed through her ears in the way it did as bullets hit the bricks around her. Arley cut through one alley, adrnaline, flew through her veins as the sky started to rumble. 

The man raced after her as she cut down another.

Arley ducked instinctively as another shot rang out; drop by droplet and then all at once rain started to pour down. A third shot was fired and Arley yelped loudly at a spark flashed over her head; it had hit the building next to her, just a few feet above her head.

Arley dove around the corner into the adjoining alleyway— the dead end —without looking only to feel her heart drop when she was greeted with a tall, unclimbable stone wall and no way out. She heard the man turn the corner she had thrown herself around and with the kind of dead eyed look on her face, Arley spun to meet the barrel of the man's gun.

She was going to die. Nothing good ever happened in Gotham Alleyways, everyone knew that.

Arley could feel the worn and crumpled card Father Fitz had given her a month and a half ago and gripped it tightly in her hand as the man stepped forward and forward until he was right in front of her. 

Arley didn’t need help, nothing but her own stupidity could help her at that point; so, Arley lunged. Just as she would for the remote if he were being held over her head, Arley’s hands wrapped around the barrel of the gun and yanked it downwards, only for the man to jerk up and send Arley flying back.

Her back hit the wall of the dead end— the wind rushed out of her and Arley thought of her mother; she wondered if, when she was dead, would her mother notice how no one visited her anymore —and the blonde man stumbled back.

Lighting flashed overhead— through the adrenaline it almost looked green —and as the man lined up his gun, Arley, with her hands thrown out in front of herself, shut her eyes tightly. Just because she knew what would come next didn’t mean she had to see it.

Arley had known the minute she chose the streets over the Heartfords that it would end up like that; that she would be just another body to bury in Plotters Field. 

She hoped that she had at least saved that man.

Arley didn’t pay much attention to the fact that something had slipped over her finger. She was more focused on the sound of her heart beating in her ears as she waited, with a baited breath to be killed.

The man fired but no pain exploded through her; instead— as her eyes opened and Arley was greeted with almost blinding green light —a voice echoed throughout her head. The man with the gun watched on with an open mouth and Arley looked at the bright and glowing green ring that had slipped onto her finger with knitted brows and a look of both confusion and wonder.

Arley Gluck of sector two-eight-one-four you have the ability to overcome great fear, welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, we await you on Oa.

And then in a flash of green— bubbled up in a ball of green light —Arley was gone, taken far-far away from Gotham City, the only place she’d ever known, and all the way to the center of the universe where a man in a mask and a council of blue aliens awaited the arrival of someone else.

Someone who wasn’t her; who wasn’t an eight year old street kid but rather a fully grown adult who could handle a whole space sector on their own.

Someone Arley would have to fight to be— would make them realize she could be; who she already was —because like her old foster siblings always said, she was always too big a dumbass to realize when she was in over her head and had bitten off more than she could chew. 

But then again, being too big a dumbass to realize when she was in over her head and had bitten off more than she could chew was what made Arley Gluck the perfect person to be Hal Jordan's replacement and a Green Lantern.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two — Homebound

1990 ; nine

“Death is a sword that knights the living.”

It’d been eleven months since Arley had gotten the Green Lantern ring that she proudly wore on her right-middle finger; it’d been nine months since Hal Jordan— the guy she had been chosen to replace —had left for whatever long term, deep space mission the Guardians had assigned him and it had been five since she had passed through boot camp and made her debut as sector two-eight-one-fours newest Green Lantern.

Arley had been formally adopted since then; before he had left Hal had asked his girlfriend Carol Ferris— the youngest female CEO of a fortune five hundred company —for a favor.

He had asked Carol to take Arley in. 

Hal hadn’t thought that a fellow Lantern should live on the streets, scrounging around and stealing for their next meal or constantly fluttering between Oa and their sector just for a somewhat decent hot meal, because the cantina on Oa really didn't have any Earth foods for Arley or Hal; sure the cantina had various potato based dishes from around the galley and grilled cheese but that was about it.

And apparently Carol hadn’t thought it befitting of a Lantern either because just as Hal had asked it of her the young woman had agreed.

Sure she had Arley do photoshoots and interviews but Arley knew that was because she was the first hero to catch the public's eye since the Justice Society in the forties which meant everyone on Earth wanted to know just about everything about her, and since Ferris Air's name was now linked with Arley's due to Carol taking her in Arley knew she owed those photoshoots and interviews to Carol, no matter how much she hated them.

Because Carol had been nice enough to give Arley a bedroom that was bigger than some of the apartments in Gotham's Bowery. The woman had bought Arley new clothes when she hadn’t needed too and she made sure that— when Arley was home —Arley was well fed and some nights, when Carol managed to come home before three in the morning, and Arley was still awake and on-world the two of them would curl up on opposite ends of Carols large couch and watch one of the many VHS tapes Carol owned.

Carol hadn't needed to do any of that; past foster homes had shown Arley that much. But she had; Carol had gone above and beyond for Arley so Arley didn't care how much makeup people put on her for the camera so that she wouldn’t wash out under the hot lights or if she was asked the same ten questions until the day she died. 

Because no amount of television interviews or magazine photoshoots would repay Carol for everything— the room, the food, the clothes —she'd done for Arley.

As she flew through space, patrolling the sector, Arley couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her and Carol's last impromptu movie night. 

Carol had glowed in the television's light; she had been wearing sweatpants, not the expensive suits she always wore to the office— Carol had looked so much more human in that moment; like she wasn’t an all-powerful CEO but rather just some lady that had been nice enough to open her home to Arley —as they had shared a bag of chips between themselves. 

It had been nice. Domestic really.

Arley began to swerve through an asteroid field as she continued to think of how nice of a night it had been.

The night had ended around dawn when Arley had fallen asleep on the couch and though Carol didn't pick Arley up and carry her to bed— like Arley saw parents on television do to their on-screen children —Arley had awoken, still on the couch, to having been tucked in with the fuzzy throw blanket Carol kept on the couch.

Arley was pulled out of her thoughts when something heavy— someone heavy; it was feet, in the middle of her back —hit her from behind, pushing her down towards the closest asteroid. Arley didn’t need to hear Kilowogs voice reverberating through her head to know that if whoever was attacking her managed to pin her down to the asteroid, she was as good as dead.

Throwing her weight to the side, and spinning through space, Arley jerked the weight that had been pushing down on her back off of her; a construct formed in Arley’s hand. 

A glowing green sword; the kind she saw in books about medieval times— Camelot and such —formed in the palm of her hand as she looked around in search of whomever had attacked her.

She found them quickly; it was more than easy to spot a bald, red-skinned alien in an asteroid field, especially when the uniform they were wearing was— much like Arley’s was green —bright yellow. 

A Sinestro Corps member.

Arley felt the grip she had on the hilt of her construct tighten. 

Kilowog, her training officer and the Lantern who had taken her under his wing even after she had graduated from boot camp had told her all about the Sinestro Corps; he had told her all about Sinestro and how he— Thaal Sinestro —had been one of the Corps best before straying away from the light and going down the path of evil.

And all about how the members of the Sinestro Corps weren’t like those in the Green Lantern; they weren’t good, willful defenders of justice. Kilowog had told Arley about how, unlike their green power rings which were fueled  by willpower, the Sinestro Corps power rings were fueled by fear and how all Sinestro Corps members were wanted criminals in some sector of space. 

All of them already had blood on their hands before they’d been indicted into the Sinestro Corps.

Kilowog had also told her: “Now kid, when you’re facin’ one of these yellow Poozers I need you to understand, it’s kill or be killed. They won’t let you walk away just cause you’re young. You’re a Green Lantern and they’ll kill you for that.”

And at nine Arley was ready to die.

She was okay with it. She had been ready to die eleven months ago in that alleyway— though, no longer was it if she died in five years but rather when she died; before he had left Hal had made sure Arley understood that Lanterns had short lives, that she knew what she was getting herself into by accepting the ring and its duties —but just because she was ready to die didn’t mean she wanted to. It didn’t mean she was going to.

It didn't mean she was planning on it.

The red-skinned, Yellow Lantern had their back to an asteroid and as they formed a construct of their own Arley took a minute to analyze them.

They were young, older than her but not old enough to be considered an adult via human standards. They were— at least by human standards —a teenager at most; they were also male, or at least they were if Arley went off human standards. Over the past eleven months Arley had learned that different species evolved differently and that just because an alien presented male or female, that it didn’t mean they were, as every culture across the universe had a different perception on gender.

The construct appeared in the Yellow Lanterns hand; it was a large golden, mile-long whip. Just as Arley’s construct glowed green in the darkness of space, the Yellow Lanterns' construct glowed a bright golden yellow,  it almost reminded Arley of the sun.

The Yellow Lantern raised his arm and though there was no wind in space— no air —as the enemy Lantern started to flourish their whip Arley could practically see the nonexistent air swirl around the whip; the Yellow Lantern reeled their hand back and just as their hand jerked forward, the whip’s spiked tip quickly flew at Arley.

Arley flew to the right, out of whips' way. 

The Yellow Lantern flourished the whip again and cracked it once more in Arley’s direction, the whip had been cracked too far to the right. Though it missed Arley the whip did destroy the asteroid floating next to Arley. Dropping her construct and throwing her arms out in front of her so that she could protect her face from flying debris, Arley was pushed back by the force of the asteroid's destruction.

Arley’s eyes had only just opened— her arms had only just gone out in front of her defensively —when she saw the Yellow Lantern’s whip changed to a sword. The Lantern flew at Arley who’s eyes had gone wide at the sight of the golden blade's point. 

Her heart hammered in her ears; this was the alleyway all over again, only this time there would be no last minute miracles to save Arley. She was alone; all she had were her wits and her skill to rely on.

Everyone doubted her skill.

The newscasters and talk show hosts Carol had Arley talk too, the Generals and other government officials that always showed up at the house to analyze her and her power, and even the common, everyday people that littered the sector, they all doubted her because she was young or because she was a girl or because her skin was a little too brown for their liking or for a hundred other reasons.

Arley, thinking of the sword she’d only just had in her hands, flipped backwards through the air as the Yellow Lanterns blade slashed upwards. Turning the glowing green sword that had formed in her hands, the blade of Yellow Lanterns construct beat against the flat of Arley’s, pushing her back.

The Yellow Lantern thrusted his blade at Arley and though Arley held her blade flat out in front of her— as the blades of their constructs met an eerie hollow screech echoed out into the vacuum of space —and the tip of the Yellow Lantern’s sword, as it just missed Arley’s head— Arley could feel the warmth radiating off the Yellow Lanterns construct —cut her cheek open, sending specks of blood flying through the asteroid field.

Arley, pushed off against the Yellow Lantern. She swung her sword out as she did so and met the flat of the yellow’s construct. She grit her teeth and ignored the blood that dripped down her cheek. She couldn’t focus on that now; she had to keep her head in the fight.

The Yellow Lantern gripped the hilt of their construct with one hand before twirling the weapon around them with an evil grin. Arley just gripped the hilt of her construct with both hands, tilting it forward, ready for any oncoming attack.

“You know,” the Yellow Lantern sneered, “When I heard Hal Jordan got a replacement I expected-well, not you.”

Arley’s eyes narrowed at the insult.

“You know Hal?” Arley wondered; the ball that had formed in her throat bobbed up and down. 

The alien in front of her was bald and barefaced, they weren’t tall and lanky but rather short and broad; they weren’t Sinestro, though that didn’t mean much, Hal had been a Lantern for nearly seven years, he had to have made more enemies than just Sinestro.

“Do I know Hal Jordan? He ruined everything for me!” The alien snapped; “Hal Jordan let my father die, he took my father’s ring-the ring that should have been mine and used it to tear my family apart!”

Arley’s shoulders tensed at the aliens raised voice. Arley opened her mouth; she could have started with how just because his father had been a Lantern that didn’t mean he was going to be one nor did that mean he deserved to be one, she could have also started with how she was sorry Hal had ruined his life but just because Hal had, killing her and being a Yellow didn’t— wouldn’t —make what had already been done right.

She could try to reason with him. She didn't. Instead, because she was nine and filled with what Killowog had called too much gumption , she asked, “So this makes you who?”

The alien’s eyes narrowed at Arley, their top lip twitched up into a snarl. As if to say talking time was over. The alien flew at Arley, their sword drawn; Arley lunged at the alien and the two bounced away from one another when the blades of their constructs met. 

Kilowog had been Arley’s training officer on Oa but there had been other Lanterns throughout the past eleven months who had taught her things throughout her various trips to Oa.

Laira, the Lantern from sector one-one-two, had taught her the only people who let their enemies set the rules of battles were dead ones. Laira had also been the Lantern to teach Arley how to fight with weapons; swords and sai and even a chain-scythe, something Arley hadn’t even known was a thing until Laira had used her ring to construct one.

Arley dove back at the alien only for her attack to be deflected and for her to bounce back, away from the alien. Arley forced herself forward and the alien swung their sword to beat off Arley. Arley flew higher and bared her sword down, the blade of her construct hit the blade of the Yellow Lanterns but due to her advantage point it simply pushed the Yellow Lantern down. 

Arley stabbed her sword down, and though the blade hit the Yellow Lanterns shoulder— the Lantern let out a snarled shout from behind their gritted teeth —Arley felt something sharp hit— cut through —her side. 

It was different than being hit; the pain only happened when the Yellow Lantern’s blade had been ripped out of her side.

Arley’s right hand pressed against the wound, thick, slimy liquid— her blood —spilled over her fingers. The hand Arley still had wrapped around the hilt of her sword shook; her construct shook in her hand. 

The Yellow Lantern, with a bloody arm— the yellow of their uniform had become a dark, almost brown sort of color as it became sticky with their blood —passed their construct into their other hand and flew at Arley; Arley turned and flew away.

She needed a minute; she needed to get her bleeding under control and to collect herself. Arley’s construct disappeared as she found herself behind an asteroid, her hand was pressed more firmly against her wound. Arley had been hit before; she’d been on the beat for five months, she had to have been hit at some point, but she’d never been stabbed.  

Tears dotted the corners of her eyes as Arley forced herself to gulp down a breath of air before she held it so that she could control her erratically beating heart. 

Arley, pushing down the part of her that wanted her mother; smothering it just as she smothered the icy fear that had quelled up inside of her, squeezed her eyes shut tightly and focused on the fact she was in a fight.

A battle. She was in a real and actual battle; this wasn't some back alley brawl but something else. Something far more dangerous than the looming threat of bruised ribs and a black eye.

Fear gripped at Arley’s heart; she was nine and scared but she was a Green Lantern, and Lanterns — Arley reminded herself — don't get scared. 

They conquered fear.

Arley reminded herself that she wasn’t some kid who had found a semi-automatic in the sewer grate and decided to become some cowboy vigilante, no matter what people and aliens alike thought she wasn’t the same street kid she’d been eleven months ago. 

She’d been chosen and trained by the best of the Green Lantern Corps. 

And being a Lantern meant protecting her sector from criminals and villains because the people of her sector depended on her to do so. If she failed, they could get hurt— they could die —and that would be on her. 

Arley knew she couldn’t fail. She had to prove she was worthy of her ring— of the family and home Ganthet had promised her in return for her service —to prove everyone who doubted her was wrong.

Arley peaked around the corner of the asteroid and saw the Yellow Lantern with their construct hanging limply in their hand. They’d given up on putting pressure on their wound; the blood that had trickled down their arm and down their red hand and off into space was dark against their uniform. 

Arley needed to end the fight. The thought though, of ending the fight— of what it meant to end the fight —made the Green Lantern pause. Kilowog’s Kill or be killed reverberated in Arley’s skull. 

Arley was okay with dying— she’d already made her peace with it —but the thought of taking someone else's life made the young Lantern want to heave up her lunch.

She didn’t want to. But she had to. It was kill or be killed; and yet that fact didn’t make it better. It still made Arley’s stomach twist violently; she still didn’t want to do it. 

Killing someone— even a Yellow Lantern who she was actively engaged in a battle with —was different then stealing someone's wallet or purse. And yet again, it wasn’t; Arley had stolen wallets and money clips to survive, if she was going to survive she was going to have to kill.

She squeezed her eyes tight. 

The Yellow Lantern didn’t care if she was nine; it was kill or be killed. 

She had too. Arley knew she did. 

But knowing that she had to, didn't make the fact she needed to any easier to stomach. But it needed to; she couldn't fail least someone else be put into this very same situation.

Just like in the alleyway where Arley had thought of the man she had saved and his daughter Arley thought of the faceless being that would be in her place if she failed. 

If she was weak someone else could— would —die.

Swallowing the tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes and forcing the overwhelming emotions threatening to take over, down, until it was locked tightly away, Arley’s fingers curled into a fist.

Yellow Lantern rings ran on fear, only people— aliens —with blood already on their hands became Yellow Lanterns. 

It was kill or be killed, and Arley was a Green Lantern, protector of sector two-eight-one-four meaning she had to do the right thing by those she was charged with protecting. She had to protect them by any means necessary; even if those means made her sick to her stomach.

It was her duty. Her responsibility. She had to do it.

But god she didn’t want to.

Ignoring that— ignoring that she didn’t want to kill her enemy —because what she wanted or didn’t want didn’t matter anymore; she was a Green Lantern and all that mattered was her duty. She’d agreed to that when she had accepted the ring.

Back then it hadn’t seemed so real; fighting— dying — those were things Arley could see. Killing had never been something Arley had imagined herself doing, but nonetheless— as she sucked a deep breath in through her nose and clamped down on her quivering nerves —Arley pointed her ring at one of the moving asteroids nearest to the Yellow Lantern and fired. 

Asteroid debris and dust billowed around the Yellow Lantern, Arley blew a second and then a third asteroid up leaving the two of them to be surrounded by a dark thick cloud.

Arley used the dust clouds cover to fly up, high over the cloud and onto another large asteroid. The alien she had been fighting changed their sword to a fan so that they could blow the dust that had engulfed them away. 

The aliens red-skinned swiveled from side to side as they looked for Arley and then, as the fan the Yellow Lantern had constructed turned back into a sword, Arley, still weaponless, pushed herself off from the asteroid and barreled down at the Yellow Lantern.

She had a job to do.

The Yellow Lantern’s head snapped up and with their sword drawn forward, they flew up at Arley. Arley thought of a sword— the kind she had, had before; large and sharp, it’s hilt made just for her hand —as she got closer to the Yellow Lantern. 

Arley didn't breathe. Her tongue caught itself between her teeth.

Her heels were clicked together and her left hand was tucked behind her back as the arm that held the blade was drawn forward.

Kill or be killed .

Arley, as the Yellow Lantern swung their sword wide, thrusted her blade down, under the Yellow Lanterns. She thought of a second sword, thinner and easier to wield with only one hand— she willed her ring to expand the construct in her hand so that the second sword would form in the hand she had tucked behind her back —and just as the Yellow Lanterns blade inched forward, only a hair's breadth away from her throat, Arley spun.

Brandishing the second, thinner sword she had willed into existence and using that to block the Yellow Lanterns attack, the Yellow Lanterns sword skimmed the sharp of Arley’s new blade. The Yellow  Lanterns blade slipped from his hand. The construct dematerizled in the air as the Yellow Lanterns eyes widened; Arley didn’t hesitate before swinging the thinner of her two swords down, slicing the alien across the chest.

Dark, nearly black, blood spurted forth, covering Arley’s uniform. The alien let out a wheezy sort of breath. Not breathing herself— not thinking, simply just acting; kill or be killed —Arley swung the larger of her two swords across the aliens shoulders, separating the aliens head from their neck.

Arley felt bile quell up in her throat as the aliens head separated from their body. The swords that had been in her hands vanished; constructs took concentration and all Arley could think about was the alien in front of her.

The dead alien. The alien she had killed.

Kill or be killed.

And she had killed.

Blood continued to leak out from the alien’s body; the alien's eyes were wide open. Blown up in surprise; their mouth had been twisted in agony and though the muscles in the alien's face relaxed slowly, Arley found herself unable to look away from what she’d done until the alien's eyelids had dropped.

Arley’s own mouth dropped open; no sound came out though. The yellow ring slid off the aliens finger; Arley, unable to move, followed the ring with her eyes. Arley told herself to catch the ring as it slipped off the aliens finger, that she had to bring it back to Oa but she didn’t; she couldn’t. 

Moving felt impossible so instead she watched as the ring darted out into the universe leaving a bright yellow contrail in its wake.

When the ring was no more than a speck in the distance Arley’s gaze flickered back to the aliens body. It was an odd thing to take note of but Arley couldn't help it; the alien had been wearing nice clothing.

Slowly and unmeaning too— Arley hadn’t even realized she was raising her hand until her fingertips were in her frame of sight —Arley reached her hand out to touch the body; to grab the head— to feel the warmth still coming off the aliens bloody corps —only to reel her hand back when she saw her white glove covered in black blood.

Purple ; Arley corrected herself, the blood wasn’t black it was a dark, dark purple. A near black but not actually black. There was red there too; dark, dark red. Her blood. She was bleeding. She’d been hurt. 

Stabbed, Arley had been stabbed.

Arley had to go. 

She didn’t want to though; how could she? She didn't know this aliens name, or where they came from; how could she leave them floating out in space— Yellow Lantern or not —when they could have a family wondering where they were.

She had to go.

Arley found herself backing away from the Yellow Lanterns corpse; she had to go. Just as she had forced herself to steal eleven months ago, just as she had forced herself to kill the aliens in front of her, Arley forced herself to turn and fly back to Earth.

To California; she had to get back to California. 

Arley knew she couldn’t go to a hospital, not when people were oh so ready to tell her they told her so, she was too young— too incapable —of being their protector but if she got to Coast City she could hide in the bathroom attached to her bedroom and inspect her wound. She could call Kilowog with her ring and ask for guidance on how to fix herself up. 

Her ring would heal her but Arley had to stop the bleeding.

Slowly Arley felt a weight being pressed against her, she felt herself being dragged underwater. It felt a lot like the dragging sensation one might feel when the ocean's water receded and the sand they’d buried their toes in rushed around their feet as it was pulled back into the water's depts. 

Arley tried to breath through the weight; she tried to shrug it off only for pain to rock through her body. It wasn’t like the pain she had felt when the alien had first stabbed her; that had felt like a sharp punch to the gut; this felt like needles being jabbed into her side.

Arley could see the Earth in the distance; see the glow of the atmosphere. 

She pushed herself forward, urged— willed —herself to go faster. And she did; as her vision doubled and she quickly entered the Earth's atmosphere, Arley found it hard to keep her eyes open.

She had to get back to California.

… 

Arley felt sick, as she flew over palm trees. 

Her hands were shaking and as darkness continued to encroach upon her, from the corners of her vision, all Arley could find herself seeing was the alien's decapitated head. 

Arley stumbled as she landed on shaky legs outside of the home she shared with Carol Ferris. With blood leaking through her uniform and onto her hands Arley trudged forward.

She ignored the burning sensation that ripped through her with every step. Blood stained the door handle as Arley shouldered her way to the house, not bothering to unlock it but instead using her ring to push open the door.

The last thing Arley remembered before darkness overtook her was not only the sound of her body hitting the wood flooring but her own thoughts as she tried not to observe just how much everything hurt.

I hope Carol's not mad, I'm making a total mess.

… 

Someone’s hands were on her wound. Someone was muttering; Arley’s eyes cracked open. 

A woman. There was a woman above her. Arley couldn't tell who though. 

“Hang on,” the lady said, they sounded as if they were underwater. “I’ll call for help. I promise everything will be okay, we’ll get you to a hospital!”

Arley clumsily batted their hand away.

“No,” Arley grounded out.

People already didn’t trust her to save them; even on other planets out there— the alien ones that littered the sector —aliens paused when they saw her.  The news on Earth like to say she was too young, the UN’s governments liked to say she was a dangerous liability; the only people that ever seemed to trust her capabilities were the people Arley had saved, and that was always after she had saved them.

No one ever gave her the benefit of the doubt. No one but Carol and the Guardians who bestowed her the ring. They trusted her to do her job and if she needed a hospital they never would again.

“No hospital,” she told the person; she pressed her own hand against her wound and sucked in a sharp breath as she focused on her suit reknitting itself over the wound, putting pressure on it. 

She could remember being told pressure on a bleeding wound was important. 

“‘M ring will heal,” Arley added. “‘M fine.”

Her eyes shut. 

This wasn’t the end; people always said— the others in boot camp had always said —dying didn’t hurt, that the only time to worry was when the pain went away. Arley felt nothing but pain. She was safe.

As Arley felt herself lose consciousness once more, she felt the someone who had been hovering above her slip their arms underneath her, picking her up. 

Whatever they placed her on a moment later was soft. 

Arley tried to fight against the waves of pain pulling her under into the darkness that was unconsciousness, only to finally pass out as the person who had picked her up off the floor begged her to, "Just hold on!"

… 

Arley woke up to darkness and for a second she wondered if she was dead. Only for— as she moved to sit more upright —for pain to rock through her and for that thought to be quickly dashed. 

No one knew what happened after you died but Arley assumed the pain someone had been experiencing pre-death to go away once they were in the afterlife. 

Arley blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. Slowly she realized she was in the living room of the house she shared with Carol; stretched out on the couch with a mountain of bloody gauzes piled high onto where she had been stabbed.

Carol, asleep, was curled up on the loveseat adjacent to the couch. Arley moved despite the pain that still echoed through her abdomen, slowly the younger Lantern found herself sitting up against the pillows that had been propped up behind her only to pause when the moonlight streaming through the window caught the hand that was outstretched in Carol's direction.

The blood had dried but it was there; dark purple and dark red covered her white glove. 

Blood; her blood, the aliens blood. 

She was covered in it.

Arley wanted to scream and scream and scream until she woke up from the nightmare she was in. She’d killed someone. A Yellow Lantern. 

She’d had too.

Arley, with her heart in her throat, dropped her uniform, leaving her— still —in the pile of gauze that had been taped to her body and the jeans and long sleeve shirt Carol had bought her months before.

Apparently the clothing she had before the streets weren’t befitting of a hero; even if the only thing wrong with them was the fact they were hand-me-downs.

But the clothing Carol had bought her, just like her uniform, was bloodstained. Only the blood on her was dark red; the blood on her was her own. 

Somehow that made the girl feel better. 

Arley held her hand up close to her face. She didn't breathe; the air had seemingly caught itself in her tightened throat.

There was no blood on her hand. The purple that had been on her glove wasn't on her hand.

Arley's bottom lip wobbled.

It's kill or be killed out there kid. 

Carol made a sound as she shifted in her seat. The youngest female CEO to ever be on Forbes Five hundred list slowly cracked open her eyes; Arley saw the panic come alight in Carol's eyes the longer Carol looked at her.

It's kill or be killed. 

And Arley had killed. The girl felt her eyes drop to the carpeted floor below her.

"You're alive!" Carol scrambled off the seat she'd only just been asleep in, as she pushed herself off the leather loveseat and onto the floor in front of Arley the CEO clapped loudly. 

The living room lights came alive around them; lighting up the room. With her eyes still locked on the floor Arley found her attention locked onto the carpet.

It was tan and despite its light color and the fact it was a year or two old had looked brand new. At least it had before Arley had ruined it with her blood.

The dark red stain on the carpet wasn't large, and yet, Arley's heart was in her throat.

She had ruined Carol's carpet.

She'd killed someone .

Arley didn't want to look down and see what she had done to Carol's nice sofa.

"Oh thank God you're alive!" Carol breathed, her hands hovered over Arley's body. She looked unsure of what to do; despite the pain that came with the action, Arley threw her legs off the couch.

She grabbed Carol's hand in hers and hazel eyes met brown.

"I'm sorry," Arley said softly. 

"You better be!" Carol snapped, her face hardened into a deep, creasing frown. "You scared the shit out of me Arley! Why the hell did you come here if you were bleeding! What if my dinner meeting didn't cancel, you could have died!" 

Arley blinked.

She had ruined Carol's carpet and rug and probably the wood by the front door. 

She'd killed someone only hours ago.

"You were worried about me?" 

Carol froze, her hands, which she had pulled from Arley's grasp so that she could continue to hover, shook.

Something— some emotion; dark and sad and reminiscent —passed through Carol Ferris's dark eyes. 

"Of course I was worried about you Arley," Carol said, she licked her lips and her hands pressed themselves flat against her stomach. "Hal asked me to look after you."

"Hal knows I'm a Lantern." 

Carol's face twisted at that. Her lips puckered for a moment.

"Right and Lanterns the job—"

"—Is dangerous," Arley finished. 

"Yeah," Carol nodded, "Hal's said that a couple of times. I-I guess didn't realize when you took over for Hal that it meant the guys in charge would be giving you everything that came with Hal's job. Danger included." 

Arley's brows knitted together, her head cocked to the side. Why wouldn't Carol assume she'd be a fully venerated Lantern? Hal had been sent off on a long-term mission in frontier space; he was to be gone for years and that meant someone— that she —had to step up to the plate and keep the home front safe.

Did Carol not think she was worthy of the ring?

It was quiet for a moment. Neither Carol or Arley spoke for the longest of times; A weight settled itself in Arley's gut as she watched as Carol's face twisted with the same dark emotions that had flashed over her eyes.

Guilt weighed on her. Bore down onto Arley, settling on her chest heavy and unbearable.

"You said your ring would heal you," Carol said. "Hal always said the ring spread up healing-I watched his broken arm set and be fixed over the course of a weekend once." Carol looked up at Arley, there was a guarded look in the CEO's eyes, one that made Arley's heart clench.

Arley knew it, she had let Carol down. 

"You're okay?" 

Arley nodded despite the pain she was in. The lump in her throat hauled her from speaking. 

"Okay," Carol said quietly. "Go-go take a bath. I'll order us some dinner in the meantime. I'll check in on you, okay?"

Once more Arley nodded. She stood and pain like she had never felt before rocked through her. Nonetheless, she, with downcast eyes, walked out of the living room only to pause for a moment at the mouth of the room.

Carol had stayed kneeling in front of the ruined couch, on the ruined rug. 

She looked as small as Arley felt. 

A sob rippled through Arley's chest.

She had killed someone. The alien had been a Yellow— a monster —and she'd done the right thing taking him out. Doing her job.

But right wasn’t always good though; doing what was right meant doing what you had to; it was doing what was necessary, even if that thing wasn’t what you wanted or what was necessarily good. 

Arley had done what was right and she felt horrible for it; she felt like there was a layer of dirt on her skin that would stain her for as long as she lived.

She had ruined Carol's thing's; she'd let the woman down. Arley knew she had; she'd had to. It was the only reason Carol would look at her like that.

Arley turned and walked up the staircase to the room Carol had given her months ago; it was large. The walls were pink, the floor was white-the carpet was a pristine white but the room as a whole was bare.

There was a bed and dresser and closet filled with the newest fashion but there were no pictures or knick knacks littered about. There were no toys either; there was a radio though. On the desk in the corner of the room next to the stack of comics she kept for when she couldn't sleep and coursework she had to complete in the upcoming months thanks to a deal Carol had worked out with the state.

For the rest of what would be her academic career Arley would take tests every three months. The tests were on stuff she would have learned— should have learned —over those three months from the workbook the state had given her. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about being a hero— what was happening on what was supposed to be her watch —while in school.

The comics Arley kept next to her coursework were the only comics Arley would read; they were the Justice Guild ones.

The Justice Guild was based on the Justice Society and the missions they'd had throughout the course of their lives a. The Justice Society had been some of the world's first superheroes. They'd been a group of internal heroes that had formed before the first World War. They had died in battle sometime before the second World War but before their fall they had been renound; they'd been great.

They were everything Arley aspired to be.

Arley walked into the attached bathroom and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was matted with blood; there was blood on her face and drenching her shirt and soaking the gauze Carol had piled high on top of her.

There was so much blood.

And why wouldn't there be? Arley had killed someone. Perhaps in self defense, perhaps in the line of duty but she had killed.

Arley nodded to herself in the mirror. Her fingers had curled up into a tightly fisted balls at her sides; she bit back the scream that wanted to break through her throat, held back and blinked away the tears that continuously gathered in her eyes until they were gone and she was left with a burning face and tense-leaden weight in her chest.

She was a Green Lantern, it was her job to do right by the people of her sector. Even doing right by them meant doing things she didn’t want to. Because her duty came first, her job came first; the people she had to protect came first, before her safety, before her emotions. 

Before herself, she knew that when she took the job to escape from the streets. She knew to keep the bed she had now and the food she had in her stomach she was expected to do her job.

Even if it killed her to do so.

Slowly Arley turned away from her reflection; her stomach churned as she did so half wondering if her parents would love her. 

Arley wondered as she readied herself for her shower, if her mother woke up the next day and Arley told her everything she had done, would her mother still love her? 

Or would she turn away from Arley? Would the woman hate her? 

Arley flinched at the loud, resounding Yes that echoed from the back of her mind.

Because Arley knew she hated herself. Arley knew she deserved to. She had killed someone, Yellow or not she had blood on her hands.

Duty or not; she had killed.

… 

It’d been two days since Arley had fought the Yellow Lantern as according to the Guardians the alien she had fought— had killed —was Amon Sir, Abin Sur’s son and Sinestro’s very own nephew.

Amon had been a young man. A teenager really, not much older than her.

There were— a seldom number of —Lanterns in the Corps who had known him since infancy; who had watched him grow up. And Arley had killed him; she'd had too. 

It was kill or be killed.

The Guardians— though berated her for not managing to catch Amon Sir’s yellow power ring and allowing it to find its next barer —had congratulated her on her victory.

Their congratulations didn’t make the weight that sat on her chest any lighter. It didn’t make sleeping any easier.

For the past two days every time she closed her eyes Arley had seen Amon Sir’s floating head and blood soaked body. Arley had taken a dozen showers and still there were times she swore she felt his blood caked into her hair.

She’d left his body behind two days ago and yet every time she looked in the mirror Arley saw Amon Sir’s floating bloody staring back at her; haunting her.

Arley doubted there would ever be a time where she wouldn't see Amon Sir. Just like the blood that flowed through her viens the blood that now covered Arleys hand was part of her, something she knew she'd never be able to leave behind.

It wasn't like it was undeserved. The only two choices had been kill or be killed and she had killed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three — The Batman

1991 ; ten

“When my shadow reaches out in the dark and when it joins another I often find that I am still left alone.”

Arley was in her mothers hospital room, flowers from citizens she had saved— and just random citizens she hadn't saved but were appreciative for having a hero patrolling the planet —littered the room. It was dark out, the glow from the surrounding buildings peaked through the blinds of her mothers room, and Arley in civilian clothing— as she held her mothers hand —and with her feet resting on the lowest metal bar of her mothers hospital bed, watched the television.

The news was on; Arley tried to listen to what was happening on CNN. Though Carol's assistant wrote up daily news briefings for her to read and keep up to date on, Arley was bored and absolutely did not want to touch the coursework she had brought with her to the hospital.

It wasn’t that Arley didn’t want to do her work, the Lantern still very much loved learning but she had only just gotten back to Earth. For the past week she had been overseeing a peace treaty that had fallen apart when the Viceroy of Dantooine had tried to poison the Queen of Nyirann. The Viceroy had taken a hostage when he’d been caught. Some servant younger than Arley; the alien had been so scared. 

Arley had been terrified. The Yellow Lantern still haunted her. 

The Viceroy would too. 

Arley’s eyes had only just started getting heavy— she hadn’t slept in nearly two days; she couldn’t —when her ring beeped. 

The ten year old girl straightened in her seat as her ring hand flew in front of her face; a holographic-like screen appeared over the ring.

Suspicious alien activity.

People had been going missing in Gotham and while that wasn’t anything new— people disappeared easily enough within the city limits; there were warehouses in Gotham dedicated to housing the city's Missing Persons files that had accumulated throughout the years —someone calling themselves the Batman was.

From all the information Arley had managed to collect it seemed that only a few months ago, only a little after Arley had made her debut as the sector's newest Green Lantern, Gotham criminals had started whispering about a man dressed in black— in a cape —taking them down. Grainy video footage showed someone stopping various low level criminals from robbing bank vaults, to saving the average Joe from a late-night beat down.

Two months ago though, a man was captured on an ATM taking money out of the bank.

His wife was pregnant and he needed to get dinner; he was a good innocent man, and just as the money had reached his hands a black blur had shot across the screen and snatched the man leaving him to never be seen again. 

Which didn't make sense. The criminal underworld hadn't stopped whispering about this Batman and how he still showed up in one place or another, ready to stop them.

How could he save one innocent and abduct another?

Arley threw herself from her chair and raced out of her mothers room; Arley had to be fast— had to be the hero the people of Earth expected her to be —or someone could get hurt, and that would be on her.

Whenever something bad happened nowadays people always seemed to ask where she was. Why she hadn't stopped it; it always seemed to circle back to, what good was she?

The door to her mothers hospital room hit the wall loudly and while a nurse that had been walking through the halls jumped at the sound Arley paid the woman no mind as she, mid-transformation, barreled through the glass doors that lead to the hospital balcony that had been designated for staff, visitors and patients all to smoke on.

An alarmed murmur echoed through people— the civilians —that were on the balcony. 

Arley, now no longer donning her jeans and sweatshirt but rather her uniform, dove over the hospitals railing and into the Gotham sky, a collective gasp seemed to echo throughout the small group of doctors that had been smoking before she rose— bathed in a protective green light —high over the Gotham University hospital.

"No way!" Someone called out, "It's the Lantern!" 

When the whispers had first started circling throughout the streets of Arley's hometown— and Arley had first heard of this Batman —a thrill she would never admit to having, had zapped through her. She might have been the only Lantern around but this man meant she wasn’t the only hero.

Batman had meant she wasn’t alone in this fight. That someone else would finally be able to understand the weight crushing against her chest at night, keeping her up and urging her to patrol the Earth— the sector —once more that day.

But then the video of the man being snatched from the ATM had been brought to Arleys attention and any hope Arley had was dashed. Arley couldn't ignore how the evidence looked; how it made Gotham's supposed caped crusader look.

As Arley flew through the streets, following the directions her ring had laid out for her, she could hear a woman screaming; adrenaline pumped through Arley’s veins as she caught sight of a large capped figure and a struggling woman in its arms. 

Swooping down low as the figure jumped between one roof and the next Arley shot up, in between the roof the abductor and the civilian woman were on, her ring shining brightly, practically leaking light. 

Arley looked at the woman for a split second, there were tears in her eyes and her arms had cradled themselves to her chest; the abductor's hood hung just low enough over its face to hide just who had been taking the civilians off the street.

“Going somewhere buddy?” Arley arched a brow.

The figure pivoted and threw both itself and the woman it had taken to the right, Arley’s tongue darted out and swept along her bottom lip.

“Alright,” she said to herself, her eyes narrowing, “Game on.” 

Arley pictured a dragon— a fearsome looking beast with large, almost car-sized tuberculate scales along its back —as she threw her fist out. A glowing green dragon shot out of her ring and curled around the capped abductor and the woman; the dragon as its back arched and wings spread out opened its mouth as if to roar.

Arley flew closer as the dragon bared down upon the two and with a smirk her chin tilted upwards; she could hear the woman sobbing in her captor's arms.

“You’re under arrest,” Arley called out confidently as the tail of the beast she had constructed with her ring  began to circle the hooded criminal. 

The caped figure raised the woman over its head— “No! No, don't!” Arley had yelled, panic evident in her voice —before throwing her down, towards the street, the same way a quarterback would toss a football at their feet in the end zone after a winning play. 

“Crap!”

Forgetting about the dragon and allowing the construct to dissolve— and the abductor to get away —Arley dove after the screaming woman. 

With her hands out in front of her Arley made a glowing green baseball mitt to catch the woman before quickly changing the green construct to an elevator; the walls of the elevator closed around the woman as it lifted her up to the roof of the closest building. 

Arley’s breathing evened out in her throat as the woman— whose arms had wrapped around herself and mouth was hung slightly open —stepped out of the elevator. Arley smiled at the woman.

“You saved me,” the woman said in an awed tone, “You're the one on television all the time, right? That kid?” 

Arley’s smile dropped, she wasn’t a kid. Sure she was ten but she wasn’t some kid— she wasn’t the or a kid —she was a Green Lantern. Protector of the universe; the only one of this sector. 

She wasn't that kid .

“You’re welcome lady,” Arley said dryly as she lifted herself back into the air, the woman took a step forward,

“Wait a minute!” She squawked— Arley ignored her as she shot out in the direction of the hooded criminal that had snatched the woman off the street —after Arley, “How am I supposed to get down from here!”

Now, Arley thought three blocks down, where her ring’s map had directed her to go, Where did my creepy crawly get too? 

But just as she had thought it, Arley felt something grab her from behind, forcing her down through the large and brightly lit RiteAid sign that had been perched at the top of one of the buildings. 

Arley felt heat explode around her as glass bit at her face and uniform; bleeding, now on the roof of the building Arley cracked her eyes open to see the hood, the figure had been wearing go up in flames.

Whatever had been snatching Gothamites off the streets was a large hideous looking alien; the aliens' sharp, pointed teeth were yellow. And its obviously hightech golden armor gleamed in the fires light and the bright blue veins that stuck out between the pieces of armor looked almost luminescent against its dark gray skin. 

“You are so going to have to do better than that ugly,” Arley sneered up at the alien. The alien grabbed Arley but the front of her uniform and its armored fist hit her stomach; spit flew out front the girl's mouth as she forcefully uncurled the alien's fingers from her.

That— though she'd never admit it —was better than just a menacing roar.

Before Arley could space between herself and the alien the golden plated alien hit her once more, sending her through scaffolding and off the building roof and onto another. Arley didn’t have the chance to get up before the alien was on her once more, its clawed foot pressed against her chest and just as Arley lifted her glowing ring— ready to shoot the alien off of her —something swung past her and knocked the alien off of her.

Arley turned to see a caped man— not an alien, but a man —roll on top of the golden plated alien several feet from her. His cape was long and black; and there were two points that stuck up on his head. Ears ; the points atop the caped man's head were bat-like ears.

“What were you doing down by the docks!” The man asked, his voice was graveled; low but not incredibly and unusually so. 

Batman, she thought with wide eyes. Arley couldn't see the symbol that was whispered to be on his chest but she could feel it in her bones; Kilowog had said to trust her instincts, that on the field they were the only thing that would save her.

He is real. 

He wasn’t the one snatching people off the street. She wasn’t alone in this fight.

The alien spit a line of fire up and Batman moved to avoid it; Arley moved as the alien got to its feet and drew another breath of fire at Batman. Arley flew into the air and thought of a train; nothing fancy like she’d observed on other planets, just something that was part of the old train sets she’d see old foster brothers playing with. 

Batman rolled the side; he hung off the side of the building as the train drove the alien into a wall that had been built into the building's rooftop; the alien laid in a pile of rubble as Arley allowed her construct to disappear and a bright green fog light to form instead.

She’d scan the alien with her ring so that she could find out just what kind of alien it was and where it came from in a moment.

Batman stood crouched on the edge of the building with his hand in front of his face. Arley saw the symbol on his chest; a black bat. She bit back a smile; she wasn’t alone, or at least, not as alone as she thought.

“Holy kriffing fuck,” Arley breathed, containing her smile; Batman made a sound in the back of his voice as he looked up at her through the spaces between his fingers, “You’re real.”

“Turn off the light!” Batman snapped; Arley’s lips tipped downwards at his sharp tone.

“I had him,” she told Batman. Because she had; sure the alien had  gotten the better of her but only for a moment. She was the youngest Lantern in history. She was a damn good soldier— just as good as her predecessor, Hal Jordan, if not better —Kilowog had said so, not just to her but to the Guardians. 

She had two Yellow Lanterns to her name, a Surrian soldier and multiple planet-destroyer class ships she'd singlehandedly taken out all under her belt. 

She wasn't a navice she could do her job not matter what. 

“Yeah it looked like it,” Batman said sarcastically; Arley dropped to the rooftop with her ring still shining a light on him. There was fat on his cheeks, his jaw was sharp but not defined. His shoulders weren’t large; they weren’t broadened walls that had taken years to cultivate. 

He was older than her but not old-old; he was old the same way Arisia and Carol were, only slightly. And though his time had been nothing short of surely Arley still felt joy rush through her veins; Batman was like her. She wasn’t alone. 

She wasn’t alone.

“Now turn off the light before they see us!” Batman ordered.

“Before who sees us?” Arley asked with knitted brows, and as if daring the universe a light shone upon the two and a helicopter whirl was heard; Arley turned to see not one but three GPD helicopters coming closer.

“Put your hands in the air!” One of the helicopter's speakers announced over the whirl of their engines, “Put your hands in the air.” Arley complied, Batman didn’t. “Put your hands in the air!”

Arley looked at Batman, “What's their problem? Don't they realize we're saving the day?"

“The world’s afraid of us,” Batman replied and Arley frowned. 

She’d heard the talk shows— The Snapper Special with Lucas Carr and the Glorious Godfrey Talk Tank —even though she was chosen and even though she was trained and even though she had proven herself across the entire sector, not everyone thought a child should wield such a powerful weapon as the Green Lantern ring.

Not everyone thought she was good enough. She would prove them wrong though; she had to. 

“You’re saying it like it’s a good thing.” Carol accepted her, the Corps accepted her but Arley was ten and even though Carol and the Corps were enough— should be enough —part of Arley wanted more. 

Part of her wanted people to accept her the way they once had once accepted the Justice Society; wholly and fully and not like she was some kid playing pretend.

“It’s necessary.” 

The alien whined behind them and as Arley and Batman turned to look at the alien— Arley’s arm rose and her ring practically leaking light, the same way an old, rusty faust would leak water  —only for Batman to tackle her out of the air and out of the way from an oncoming stream of fire the alien had breathed out.

The alien darted across the rooftop— both Arley and Batman scrambled to their feet —and wings spread out from its back as it took a running leap off the building; the Gotham Police helicopters veered to the sides in order to avoid the alien crashing into them.

“Take your glow stick and go home, Gothams mine,” Batman snapped over his shoulder as he pulled something from the yellow belt around his waist. Arley frowned deeply as the end of Batman's grappling hook shot out and connected itself to the back of the alien's ankle; Batman flew off the roof as the alien surged forward. 

A sour taste flooded her mouth as she took off after Batman.

“I don’t think you get it, Bats, this whole space sector is mine, Gotham included!”

“Uh-huh,” Batman said as the alien sped up; Arley lagged behind as her mouth further twisted into a frown. Batman might have been like her— he might’ve been a hero —but he was also a colossal douchebag. 

“I’m not kidding-I’m Green Lantern!” Arley snapped back as she fired a bolt of energy at the alien; the alien barrel rolled through the sky. Arley fired again and the alien turned the corner onto First Avenue. 

Batman, still holding onto the grappling hook that was attached to the alien— as it flew low against the flow of Gotham traffic —ran over the length of a blue four door car.

Arley fired again as Batman was left to roll along side the length of a truck; the alien turned and shot fire out of its mouth, Batman jumped out of the way and Arley tossed her closed fist out in front of her; a bright glowing green bubble formed around her and though Arley was pushed back by the force of the fire she was completely unharmed.

Dropping the shield once the flames were gone Arley urged herself forward. Batman ran along the side of a building, breaking the windows under his feet as he did. As she flew by Arley saw a small boy on the floor of his home and his parents rushing into the room.

“You know Bats, if Gothams so your turf then maybe you should end this now?” Arley’s eyes were narrowed as she flew alongside the caped man, “Before someone gets hurt.”

Batman let out a sound of agreement. He fished a second grappling hook from his belt and fired it out the side of a chimney before he clicked that grappling hook and the one he had been using to hitchhike behind the alien, together, leaving him to hang there.

Arley imagined clamps, the kind she had seen in tool boxes; the construct caught the aliens' wings between the glowing green clamps, only for the alien to rip itself from its wings and go crashing to the ground below.

Oh come on , Arley bemoaned via inner thought as rhe alien landed on a car; exploding it. 

Arley pointed her ring hand at the thick cloud of black smoke that billowed around where the car had exploded and a bright, glowing green fan appeared. When the smoke had cleared, and the only traces that the alien had been there was a smoldering car and an open manhole covering, both Arley and Batman dropped down to the street.

“So what do you think it’s doing in Gotham?” Arley wondered as she and Batman began to lower themselves into the Gotham sewers. “All I know so far is that it’s taking people, and since this is your turf you’ve got to have something,” Arley drawled as they hit the dirty water.

Batman let out a growled sound from the back of his throat, whether it was because of the water and the smell of the sewers or because Arley still hadn’t left, she couldn’t tell. Not that she cared; Gotham was as much her beat as Fawcett or Star City, it was after all, in her sector.

“Witnesses saw this thing planting something that looked like a bomb down by the docks. When police confronted it, it started spewing fire,” Batman explained as he set off down the sewer tunnel. 

Arley sped up so that she was flying next to him, she shot Batman a measured look.

“I’ve fought in wars, I just oversaw a peace treaty and stopped a political assaination all by myself, Green Lanterns like me can do anything you know,” Arley told him. She wasn’t some stupid kid, she knew the job was dangerous; Kilowog and Hal had read her the riot act already.

Green Lanterns have short lives, no one's life was guaranteed; to grow old in the Corps was a privilege not a right. 

But she already lived longer than she should have; she had survived the streets, lived through the fight with Amon Sur and every other fight she had been in since getting the ring.

“Everything but shut up apparently,” Batman sniped. Arley’s fingers curled into her palm; for the life of her she couldn’t remember why she had been happy that he was real and not some urban legend like BigFoot or Mothman.

The pair reached a fork in the sewer system, Batman looked both ways before going left.

“So,” Arley wondered, “What’cha got? Super strength?”

“No,” Batman said dully as he stormed forward. 

“Can you fly?” Arley asked.

“In a plane.” The space between her brows creased together. 

“You’re not some guy in a Bat costume, are you?” Batman turned, his lips lifted into a sly smirk and Arley felt her face drop. She was alone, not because Batman was a jerk, but because he was just some guy not much older than she was, running around in a suped-up Halloween costume. 

“You’ve got to be kriffing kidding me right now!” Arley exclaimed as she settled on the side of the Gotham sewer, out of the water and four inches higher then where she would be if she was in the water. 

The young man in front of Arley was no different then Wally or Carol if they had decided to start running around, fighting crime. 

“What?” Arley’s eyes narrowed, “No one asked you on a date so now you dress up in a bat costume and jump around your parents basement?”

“What’s this do?” Batman asked, holding Arley’s ring between his fingers. 

Her eyes went wide. Arley felt her heart stop as he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. Arley’s uniform disappeared, leaving her in jeans and a sweatshirt. As Batman turned and held her ring up higher Arley felt her clenched fist tremble.  

The lesson after never forgetting to charge your ring— and the most important that they had learned in boot camp —was never lose it. Never let it be taken; that ring wasn’t just your weapon it was one of the greatest in the universe.

And she had allowed it to be slipped off her finger.

“No buttons, I assume it works on concentration,” he said aloud.

“How-hey!” Arley shouted, Batman turned, “What the fuck!”

Batman’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl he was wearing but his lips tipped back up into an infuriating smirk.

“You weren’t concentrating,” he said. 

Arley threw her hand out in front of her and willed her ring back onto her finger, the same way she would will a construct out of it. Her uniform reappeared instantly and Arley swept over the Gotham swear water and close to the costumes man.

“You won’t be doing that again,” Arley said severely. Green Lanterns weren’t supposed to be afraid, they ate fear for breakfast, and yet a quiver ran through her at the thought of what the Guardians might do to her if they ever found out someone like Batman— a perfectly normal human being —was able to take her ring.

They’d kick her out for sure. 

Would Carol still want her? Carol had only taken her in as  a favor for Hal and if she weren’t part of the Corps like Hal would that mean Carol no longer had to do that favor for him? 

Would it mean that she would be all alone once more?

No . Arley told herself, it wouldn't; Carol wouldn't just kick her out if she no longer had her ring— which she would; Arley was ten and knew she would die with her ring burning bright on her finger —Carol cared about her.

“Not unless I want to,” Batman said; Arley felt her already clenched jaw tighten. 

“You know what asshole, let’s go!” Arley snapped; only before she could take a step towards Batman he grabbed her. One of his hands covered her mouth while the other hovered his own lips; the caped and cowled young man let out a shushing sound as he bobbed his head to the right.

Arley strained her ears but heard— over the squeaking of rats and rushing flow of sewer water —a clicking growl be wined out. 

Batman let go of Arley and the pair— under a tense air —crept forward and turned the corner to see the alien that had attempted to abduct the woman and attacked both Arley and Batman and placed a square device against the sewer walls. 

The device was the size of a textbook; it looked like the alien; the four corners of the deceive were golden and just like the alien, a bright blue ran over the darker parts of the deceive. A large red button laid in the middle of the device.

“Hold fast,” Batman breathed out in a whisper, “We need more information.”

The alien pressed the red button in the device's middle; the device glowed red, the blue turned to yellow and Arley’s eyes widened as the device seemed to pulse against the sewer wall.

“Like hell, that’s a bomb and he just armed it!” Arley snapped. 

She shot out around the corner— Batman was only a step behind her —and the alien turned. It spoke, for the first time that night in a gravely and hissed sort of voice.

“For Darkseid.” And then the sewer exploded. 

Arley turned and grabbed Batman, she threw a bubble up around them and for a second the world around them was bright. The sewers shook violently around them until the bomb blast died out and Arley and Batman were left to stand in the smoldering, horrid-smelling aftermath.

The alien was gone. Burnt away; dead. Arley blinked where the alien had been standing. She hadn't killed him. The alien had blown themself up.

And yet a hollowness reverberated throughout Arleys ribcage, panging against her heart.

When the bubble fell Batman’s shoulders perked up, tense. 

“I told you to hold fast,” Batman snapped as he spoke down to her, his finger taunt and elongated; pointed at the end of her nose, “I told you—”

“—And I told you I’m a Green Lantern!” Arley cut him off hotly, her heart in her throat.  “I’m not someone who decided to just have a go at this, and I’m not new to this! I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you Bats-I was chosen and I was trained! So stop it! Stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing! Like-like—” the words, Some kid off the streets, caught in her throat. 

Arley let her teeth rake themselves over her bottom lip. She blinked once and then twice, quelling the angry, unshed tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes in her fit of rage. She sucked in a deep breath of air.

“I know what I’m doing,” Arley whispered harshly, “I’m like you.” 

A beat of silence passed and Batman’s shoulders dropped as he sucked in a breath of air; gently, his hand raised and settled on Arley’s shoulder. Arley's gaze flickered up to his. 

She could see behind the cowl. His eyes were blue. Bright, bright blue.

“You are,” Batman said, “I haven’t treated you like one.” There was no sorry, no you’re right tacked on, silence simply followed until Batman pulled his hand away from Arley and allowed it to hang limply at his side, “Now what do you make of the device-of the aliens death cry?”

Arley turned and faced what was left of the bomb— it for the most part was intact; it looked to be though, as if it had been melted from the inside out, as if the pieces of burnt and still boiling metal were blown outwards —and shrugged. She thought back to everything she had learned since joining the Corps and frowned.

“I know of a Darkseid. There’s this place-a planet, called Apokolips and back when the Corps was new-like really new—” back before the Manhunters had even been fully retired, “—A Lantern who was in charge of the sector Apokolips is in went to stop Darkseid. He couldn’t and when he escaped he went back to Oa for reinforcements.”

“You’re people didn’t stop him did they?” Batman asked, Arley shook her head. 

“The book of Oa doesn’t tell us what happened to the Lantern who led the charge but he probably died. I mean the book says that so many lives had been lost the Guardians risked everything by leaving Oa and striking up a parley with Darkseid. After months of negotiations they reached a treaty. As long as Darkseid stayed on his own planet and didn’t venture out into the universe the Corps wouldn’t bother him.”

Arley didn’t like that part; when she had first read the Book of Oa she’d asked Kilowog why the Guardians would make such a deal when there were people still under Darkseid's reign suffering. Wasn't their job to help and save the innocent? Kilowog had told her that sometimes the best thing wasn’t always the right one and that the Guardians weren’t supposed to worry about the right things like their Lanterns were, but rather what was best for the universe.

Civilians had to be good, Lanterns had to be right and just and the Guardians had to be the best. They couldn't just do their best but rather had to act in accordance with the best option for the universe. 

“Do you know what this is?” Batman’s chin jerked out in the direction of the bomb's remnants. 

“A bomb?” Arley replied; Batman shot her a dry side glare. “Sorry,” she lied with a smirk. Arley raised her hand. “Ring, scan and identify,” she ordered. 

A light shot out from Arley’s ring and scanned over the melted pieces of the bomb and a hologram with only three words— unable to identify —appeared over her ring. Arley’s head jerked back with a frown.

“That’s impossible,” Arley said, she looked at Batman, “The ring knows everything the Guardians know and they know everything." 

Batman nudged Arley to the side wordless and with a sharp but questioning look, Arley moved and allowed the young, caped man to stand in front of it.

Batman pulled some sort of gadget from his belt and held it up to the remnants of the bomb; Arley peaked around him and peered at his belt, wondering just where the gadget had been pulled from as the belt didn’t look like it could contain much.

“I thought this was a bomb?”

“It blew up, it's gotta be, why?” Arley’s left brow raised.

“Because it’s not reading like an alien bomb or computer,” Batman said, “We need to know about this thing. Do you think you could remove it from the wall?” 

Arley looked at the legs that had embedded themselves in the sewer walls and then to Batman.

“Sure but-uh, where are we taking it though? Cause I can’t take you Oa and this isn’t really the best place to operate on this—” Arley flourished her hand in the direction of what she had thought to be a bomb, “—So where do you think we should take this?”

Batman didn’t smile, but he wasn’t smirking either, it was a mixture of the two; a bit of both as his chest puffed out.

“I’ve got a place,” he said.

….

The Batcave— as Batman had called it —was insane. Leaving Arley, as Batman led her and the wall she had taken from the Gotham sewers through the cave, to worry slightly about both the caped man's sanity and just how the cave had come to be.

“Where did you even find this place?” Arley asked as Batman led her to what he had told her was his lab. 

“I built it,” Batman said, Arley blinked.

“Like, by yourself?” Batman turned and looked at Arley as the door to his lab opened.

“It’s late, shouldn’t you call home?” He asked, “You live with Carol Ferris, don’t you?” He added. “She might be worried if she doesn’t hear from you.”

Arley found herself taking a half a step back before she cocked her head; her nose crunched up, and Arley found herself shaking her head.

“Carol knows I’m doing important stuff, she won’t worry.” If Arley up and disappeared for weeks on end Carol would though; when Arley had come back from overseeing the peace treaty the day before Carol— who was already running late for an important meeting —had caught Arley coming home and took time to pause so that she could say hello and make sure that Arley was okay.

Carol had noticed she’d been gone.

“You don’t have anyone to call?” Arley let her head bob forward. 

“No,” Arley told Batman, “I don’t have to call anyone.”

“Would you have called anyone?” Batman then asked, “If I hadn’t showed up would you have called your Corps for back up?”

“No?” Arley replied. 

“You could have died,” Batman said and Arley’s lips pressed together. 

“I’ve already told you Bats, I’m not just some kid. I was trained to handle myself in situations just like that. I would’ve had it handled-I did have it handled.”

“And if you hadn’t?” Bruce asked, “If you had died—”

“—Then I died-if I die, I die. Bats that’s sort of how this gig works,” Arley said in a know-it-all tone of voice,  “If you’re not going to stick to bank robbers and the mob and you’re going to throw down with aliens working for Darkseid and stuff like that then you’re going to die, and you’re going to need to be okay with that.”

Batman opened his mouth only to close it when nothing came out. He gave Arley a measured look that she couldn’t quite decipher as it was over before she could feel its full weight. Batman then ducked his head and when he picked it back half a moment later up he nodded.

“You’re young, I just want to make sure you know what could have happened.” How could she not have? 

“Trust me, I know what's at stake every time I put on the uniform.” At ten she had seen more death than most soldiers; she’d been thrown into bloody intergalactic wars with the sole purpose of ending them— by ten she had killed —because that was her job. 

At ten she was more than ready to die. 

“Then why do you do this? Why not let someone else?” 

Because Ganthet had offered her a place to belong; a family. A safe haven and she was selfish.

Arley shrugged; that wasn't the kind of answer people wanted to hear. Carol had coached her on what to say when people asked— when reports asked her on why she had become a hero at such a young age she was supposed to say ‘Because I can be and how can I not if I have that power?'  —but Batman wasn’t just some reporter in the streets, he was like her more than he wasn't, he didn’t deserve to be lied to.

“Why do you do it?” She asked in return instead. “Why not let someone else?” She parroted. 

Batman let out a breath of air through his nose; he turned his back to Arley, signaling the end of the conversation without bothering to answer.

“This way,” Batman said pointing to a table, “You can put the device down here.”

And back to work they went.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four - MIB

1992 ; eleven

“To be known is to be cared for so hide yourself away because we all know you’re undeserving of such a fate.”

There was a diner on the corner of East Sixty-first and First avenue in New York City. It was tiny but they had amazing spinach artichoke dip and buffalo wings. 

Arley sat in the far off booth, towards the tiny bathroom in her civvies as she worked through her coursework for the semester. Being eleven meant she should be in the seventh grade which meant the paper in front of her had algebra on it and though Arley loved learning— she spent so much time in the Library on Oa Kilowog knew if she wasn’t training she would be there —she hated math. 

History and culture and— while science and math went very hand in hand —geology and forensic science and biology were all Arleys cup of tea. Fractions and long division were not. 

Which is why she didn’t mind the man in a black suit and thick shaded glasses sliding into the booth across from her. Any excuse not to push through the assignment on the table was welcome. 

The government suit— because it was obvious from the way his hair was combed to the way he dressed that he was from some branch of government —had the ghost of a smile on his face. 

“Arley Gluck?” It was rhetorical. Carol had Ashley’s face everywhere, everyone knew who she was. 

“Yeah, you are?” All the government agencies—from the United Nation to the ones that weren’t out to the public as of yet like the NSA —had a handler for her to talk to when she needed. 

The man in front of her wasn’t one of those handlers which piqued the girls curiosity. 

“Agent K, ma’am.” Arley smiled at the suit. She pushed the math homework away. 

“Just Arley works or Lantern, sir.” 

“No need for that Lantern, Agent works just fine,” the man smiled back. 

“That’s cool,” Arley nodded. “How can I help you Agent?” 

“You can come with me.”

“Oh can I?” Arley leaned back in her seat amused. She was used to world governments calling on her at all times of the day whenever she was planet-side but usually they sent someone she knew so it felt more like a work thing than a kidnapping in progress. Her half bitten nails tapped the tabletop. “To where?” 

She already told the Secretary of Defense  she wouldn’t name Batman or the kid he had— just very recently —started taking with him on patrol. 

She didn’t care what the government liked to threaten her with; somehow after a Yellow Lantern an old man in an outdated military uniform— no matter how loud he threatened to shoot her out of sky —wasn’t scary, in the slightest. 

“MIB headquarters kiddo.” 

Arleys eyes narrowed, half at the fact she had never heard of MIB and she had been a Lantern for nearly three years at that point and half at the fact the Agent across from her had called her Kiddo. 

“And where,” Arley leaned over the table, pushing her dip away, “Is that?” 

“Battery tunnel ventilation tower,” the Agent said easily. The left corner of his lips was turned upwards. He was having fun. 

“Alright just let me pay.”

“Most celebrities get their meals comped, you know.”

Arleys brows shot up as she flagged down the waitress Mary. “Carol gives me an allowance, it’d be pretty shitty not to use it, you know?” 

In the tiny, East side diner, Mary Hunt was probably the waitress Arley adored the most. She was a middle aged mother of two who never stopped talking about how proud she was of her eldest daughter. 

Amy Hunt was fifteen and aiming for a pre-law degree John Jay so that she could start what— Mary said she knew —would be a long, successful legal career. 

“Twelve-fifty sweetie,” Mary said, setting down the check with a rose-colored smile. “Is there anything you or your friend would like me to wrap up?” 

Arley looked at the plates she had, for the most part, picked clean. 

“No thanks Mary.” She then set down thirty dollars. Some of it was tip but the rest was for— “Tell your youngest to have fun at the Natural History’s museum.”

“No,” Mary shook her head, “Lantern you don’t—“

“—Course I do,” Arley quipped as she and the Agent rose from their places in the booth, “—You guys here never rat me out to the press when I stop in, that’s worth something, you know?” 

Mary’s shoulders sagged with a smile. 

“Thank you sweetheart.” 

Arley beamed, “No problem Ms. Hunt! And serious tell Mark to have fun! I went there last week for the first time and thought it was amazing.”

“No kidding?” Agent K wondered in what sounded like disbelief, “You’ve been zipping around the galaxy for three years now and you’ve only just been to the Natural History museum?”

Arley looked up at the man; she wanted to assume he was middle aged but with all her years around other species and her general lack of age— she was only eleven after all —Arley had realized as of recently she didn’t know just what was considered an adult. 

She knew she was considered a kid even though she wasn’t— she hadn’t been in a long time —but without a birth year tattooed across the forehead of the person she was talking to Arley wasn’t quite sure where said person fell on the sliding scale of humanity. 

“I—“ Arley licked her lips, “—I haven’t really had the time you know. If something here isn’t happening here it’s happening on one of the other planets I’m in charge of, you know?” 

The Agent frowned deeply before suddenly beaming down at her. 

“Ever drive a car?” Mary Hunt seemed to choke on the breath of air she was trying to take in. 

“No.” Arley felt herself start to grin. Once— and only that one time —Bruce had let her in the Batmobile and when she had asked to drive he had said he and Alfred would need to be dead and buried before that ever happened. 

“You won’t be today either.”

“Dude!” The Agent chuckled. Mary Hunt failed to hide her giggle behind her hand. 

“Come on Lantern we have things to do and not enough time in the day.” 

“Okay,” Arley rolled her eyes. She waved at Mary as she followed the Agent out the door and onto the New York City street. 

Arley loved busy streets. She loved being small and seemingly swallowed up by the sea of people who just wanted to do the next thing on the list of daily tasks. Even without her sweatshirts hood up no one was recognizing her because with her head tilted down she was still just small enough to stay out of everyone’s line of sight. 

“So the last guy never told you about us?” Agent K asked as he led Arley to a black mustang that was parked on the street. 

“Nah, but he didn’t super fill me in on anything before he was shipped Reach-side.”

Agent K stopped short of the open mustang door, his hands braced the frame of the car, “He’s in Frontier Space? Who the hell sent that cowboy to the Wild West?” 

Arley chuckled, her right eyebrow rose at the Agents' exasperated tone. She and Hal didn’t talk— the only time he contacted her via the ring was to talk to Carol —but from what she knew of the man, cowboy was more than just an apt term for him. 

Best to sling the ring was another; it was why the Guardians had sent him on the mission to Frontier Space. Someone needed to train the Lanterns out there— and with the Reach, an age old enemy of the Corp and both the Red Lanterns and Star Sapphires getting more and more restless in the wake of the Corps on going war with the Yellows —someone who could be trusted to sew only the best seeds could be trusted with such a task. 

Hence Hal Jordan being sent to the front lines of space and Arley Gluck being picked to replace him.  

“Our bosses. Someone needs to take charge out there and well the last guy is the best to sling the ring so I guess they figured why not, you know?” 

“Please giving Hal Jordan—“ so he was for real; he knew Hal.  “—Free range to do what he wants may save the universe but by god will it be someone’s bureaucratic nightmare.”

“Probably but I’m active so that’s someone else’s problem,” Arley said with a shrug as she watched Agent K weave in and out Manhattan traffic. 

Driving was weird. 

Before the ring Arley couldn’t remember being in a car; having a car in the Bowery was a luxury only King Pins had. No one was stupid enough to try to steal the tires off one of the Falcons cars. And it wasn’t like there was a bus to school, like all the other kids in the Alicent Kane’s Elementary school Arley had either had to walk the several blocks when she missed the public bus. 

And after the ring; she never needed to travel by car. She could fly at the speed of light after all. 

“I suppose that’s fair,” Agent K said as they turned left, heading towards the Battery Tunnel. “What else haven’t you gotten to do?” 

“What?”

“Before in the diner,” K said, eyes locked on the road, “You said you’d only just gotten to go to the museum; what else haven’t you gotten to do?” 

Arley shrugged in her seat. There was a lot she didn’t have time for. Some days she was zipping around her sector; she forgot to eat only to realize when she would get home to California and see the dinner her and Carol's housekeeper Whitney had left on the kitchen island for her. 

Being a Lantern was a full time, twenty-four-seven type of job. 

Instead of saying all of that though, Arley said, “See the Great Wall. I saw the Parthenon when I was helping evacuate people during that last major fire.” 

“You should go, you’re young. You should see everything as soon as you can.” 

Arley looked at the Agent. He had known Hal, he probably knew the statistics. Ice ran up Arleys spine at the thought; Carol didn’t know the life expectancy of a Lantern once they got their ring. Neither did Bruce or Alfred. 

None of them knew that Arley was only expected to live four years, three months, one day, thirteen hours and seven minutes. 

That her time was most probably, almost up. 

Arleys palms became slick with sweat. 

None of them knew but Agent K— this random government agent —he knew. 

Arleys stomach churned. 

“Why are you here now?” Arley asked stiffly as they pulled into a garage. “I got the ring years ago.” 

It was May of ninety-two, she got her ring December of eighty-nine. Arley wasn’t the best at math but she knew how much time she had left on the clock. 

“Because we like you kid, there’s a spark in you.” A light. 

Arley turned in her seat to the agent who was already looking at her. 

“Don’t bullshit me. That’s a nice answer but why?” 

“We didn’t reach out to Hal until after a while too, we had to make sure bringing him on was worth it.” You’re worth it. 

All Arley ever wanted to hear people say was that she was worth it and yet, her eyes narrowed.

“What the hell does that mean?”

A ghost of a smile danced on the agent's lips. “My boss will explain, come on.” And with that the agent left the car, Arley followed after. 

She followed Agent K down a hallway and then another; an older, dark skinned man reading the New York Post sat next to the elevator. He too wore a suit. 

“Francis,” Agent K nodded, “What's your horoscope today?” 

“I shouldn’t be walking under any ladders for one,” the older man chuckled. His eyes flickered to Arley. “Ma’am.”

“Sir,” Arley nodded back as the elevator opened up. She and the agent stepped in. Slowly the elevator doors shut; neither her or the agent turned to one another to speak as the elevator beeped with each passing floor. 

Arleys brows shot up when the doors opened up; she and the agent stepped into a landing outside of the elevator and Arley felt her heart leap into her throat. 

Aliens; some humanoid and some not. Some were at a desk, waiting in line to talk to the female receptionist while several aliens were being pushed forward by men and woman in suits, all of them cuffed and grumbling. 

Dozens of desks littered the grand hall Arley looked out upon. 

“What is this?” Arley asked with wide eyes. 

“This? This right here is the Men in Black headquarters. We have a few different locations all over the world but this is the only location we have on the East coast so any aliens coming and going on this side of the country come and leave through here.”

Arleys brows knitted themselves together as the platform she and the agent were on lowered itself. 

Several pairs of eyes turned to them and then several more. Slowly, as Arley and the agent were lowered to the ground level the giant hall quited itself as each and every eye in the place landed on the Lantern. 

Arley felt her face heat up at the attention; almost three years since her ring and she could still barely stand multiple people looking at her. 

A man with a dark goatee and thick brown hair smiled at Arley and the agent when they stepped off the landing. 

“Lantern Gluck,” the man greeted, his hand outstretched, “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Zed, Chief Officer here at Men In Black.”

“Nice to meet you sir,” the question of what the fuck Men in Black was at on the top of Arleys tongue. Sure it had something to do with alien customs but the explanation Agent K had given her wasn’t really an explanation at all. 

“Lantern!” Arleys head snapped, her brows raised at the sight of the Manitoba, Neeble, pushing through the crowd of aliens and humans that had gathered to gawk. 

The worm-like alien only reached Arleys hip. 

“Neebs? What the hell are you doing here?” Arley was sure she had seen the last of the worm-like aliens months ago when she had stopped an assassination attempt on the alien emperor. 

Neeble and his friends, all who had worked lowly jobs in the emperor's palace had helped Arley navigate the tunnels under the golden structure so that she could surprise Lobo, the hit-man, and save Grank the Manitoba leader from being shot execution style. 

“Girly we left!” Neeble said with an almost manic cackle, “The emperor awarded us what we needed to leave Annelid   after we helped you and we live like kings here! Coffee every day!” 

Arley smiled. 

“That’s great Neeble,” she said earnestly. “You have to give me your address, I’ll come by to visit sometime.” She’s being coffee cake. 

“Damn right!” 

Arley laughed at the aliens' excitement; she watched with a smile as the worm-like alien disappeared into the crowd in search of a pen and paper for her. Once more Arley turned to the Men In Blacks Chris Officer, Zed. 

“Sir?” He was smiling at her like what he had just watched was the warmest scene he had ever been able to lay his eyes upon. 

“Come on Lantern, I’ll show you to my office then perhaps Agent K can give you a tour.”

“I’d be honored,” Agent K added on with a nod. 

“Come on.” It wasn’t exactly an order but still, when Zed turned on his heel and began to lead Arley to a clear tube that led to an Oval Office that looked over the great hall they were in, Arley found herself following without question. 

They stopped in a black and white office. The walls and flooring were white but the desk and chairs in the room were all black; or at least in the case of the desk a deep mahogany that could easily be mistaken for black. 

The chairs were leather. Arley practically sunk in her seat. 

“Lantern Gluck,” Zed said, still standing, “It’s a pleasure, truly. The MIB has been working with Lanterns since we were founded in the forties.” 

Arleys eyes narrowed. The forties; that was far before even Abin Sur wore the ring. 

“Why haven’t I heard of you?” 

“Because we didn’t want you to,” Zed said earnestly. “Men In Black deals with alien based incidents planet side but more importantly we deal with immigration, visa’s and so on.” 

“Okay and?” 

Zed smiled. His hands folded on top of one another. 

“Most of the government doesn’t know we exist Lantern and the officials that do, even they don’t know exactly what we do.”

“But why!” Arley had teetered to the edge of her seat. 

“Human beings can be nothing more than scared, mouth breathing animals in their worst moments. A war breaks out here on Earth and thousands of refugees need to flee for their lives and the neighboring country would sooner send them back to certain death then allocate more resources to help their fellow human in need. What,” Zed leaned forward, “Do you think world leaders would do if alien refugees were very much that, alien refugees?” 

Arley frowned. Zed was right; despite her age her years with the ring had taught her that much. 

“So why approach me now?” Arley asked slowly. Zed’s small smile grew. Teeth leaked out from behind his lips. 

“Because you’re not going to sell us out to the tabloids now.” 

Arleys brow arched. “Oh?” 

“You don’t recognize me, do you Lantern?” 

“No?”  

Zed chuckled. His right hand waved itself in the air. “Last month there the Secretary of Defense wanted the Batman’s identity, he was sure you knew it.”

Arley smiled at the memory of the last White House meeting she’d been to.  She had confirmed that she knew Batman— and Robins —identities when the Secretary of Defense had asked her. 

“You told the man to kiss your ass you weren’t telling.” 

Arley had confessed that she knew Batman and Robins identities because she didn’t see the need to lie about not knowing who was behind those masks when she knew she’d sooner die than tell anyone that it was Bruce Wayne and his ward. She’d made a promise to the vigilante and she wasn’t going to break it, no matter what. 

“And you want me to tell him that same thing if he asks about this place.”

“Yeah,” Zed said softly. “No one should ask about this place but you’re in the limelight, aliens are becoming more and more open about who they are and with them part of MIB will be moving into the light as well.”

“But not all of it?” Arley asked knowingly. Zed shook his head. 

“No. We’ll be here to help those in need but the tourists, those moving here for jobs or whatever else, as well as our criminal justice branch will all be acting in adhering to the rules and regulations of the Bureau of Terra Travels and Accordance.”

“B-T-T-A?”

Zed shrugged,

“We’re working on a name to go public with.” 

Arley crossed her arms over her chest; she had never thought of what being public meant. Never thought that the lives of the aliens Arley knew had to be on Earth would change because of her and Carol. 

“Aliens that need help, you’re sure they’ll still get the help they need?” Had she ruined something good?

Had she messed up and caused others to suffer because of her? Had, in trying to help Carol, she screwed thousands of innocent lives?

Fear prickled at her heart. 

“Yes,” Zed hadn’t even hesitated in answering her. 

Weight that had settled in Arleys shoulders hadn’t moved at the Chief Officers declaration; it was her job to do what was best for her sector and if her very own home planet was hiding this from her, what were the other planets hiding from her?

Who was she failing and just how badly was she failing them? 

Had the Guardians known she’d been in the dark and laughed at her, or had they assumed— that going through boot camp had made her capable Lantern —that she knew about the MIB. 

“Good,” Arley replied, her mind racing a mile a minute. 

She hadn’t ruined anything but she hadn’t known what not to ruin. Her time left was tick-tick-ticking; she wasn’t like Hal or Kilowog, she wouldn’t live decades in the ring. 

She wasn’t as good as them. 

She had to be good though; had to do her job the best she could and not let those under her watch down. There was no failing, not with the ring on her finger. 

Not with the weight she had on her shoulders and the lives that hung in the balance.  She couldn’t fail. 

She wouldn’t. 

“Come on,” Zed said. Arleys eyes snapped up from where they had zoned and locked into on Zed's desk; “I’ll bring you to K’s desk and have him show you around.”

“Awesome!” Arley smiled; it was the same kind of smile she would give to the reporters Carol had her speak to or the camera magazine editors put her in front of. Fake but believable; exactly what she needed to plaster on while she thought. 

And as Arley was led out of the office by a chuckling Zed, all she could think of was not failing. How much failing those in her charge terrified her, and how if she was scared then she was already failing and how she had to fix— how she had to become a better Lantern —that.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five — The Man Of Steel

1993 ; twelve 

“Never meet your heroes kids, because they’re human too and just as fucked as everyone else.”

Arley, in civvies, sat next to her mother in a nice Gotham hospital room that like usual— ever since she had gotten the ring Arley couldn’t remember her mothers room being bare —was covered in flowers. Arley's favorite were the sunflowers. Just like potatoes which could seemingly be found everywhere, in every corner of the universe sunflowers also seemed to follow, popping up everywhere and anywhere. It was nice to go to a random alien planet on a Tuesday and see a sunflower.

Her mother was asleep; the rise and fall of her chest was steady and the bear that had a I survived my trip to NYC shirt sat upright next to her mothers head. 

Unlike the flowers who were bought and sent by strangers Agent K had gotten Maria the bear so that, even when Arley was off world her mother would never be alone. 

The Lanterns thumb traced the curves of her mothers knuckles. 

“I have an interview soon mami so I probably won’t be able to stay for too long today, but—“ Arley said with a grimace, “—Nurse Logan said she’d turn it on even if you were asleep, something about about a new study coma patients hearing everything going on so hopefully you’ll be proud of me.”

All Arley wanted was people being proud of her; she yearned for it. Though most of all, she wanted her mother to be proud of her. Arley wanted the woman she barley knew but loved with all her heart to wake up and take her into her arms and hug her in the way she saw mothers across the galaxy hug their young.

“Miss Gluck?” Arley turned and saw her mothers neurologist, Foreman, a somewhat tall, bald African American man with his hands folded in front of him standing in the doorway. 

“Doc!” Arley beamed; Foreman had been her mothers doctor since she’d been admitted and over the years Arley had grown to like the man. 

At first he’d been awkward around her, she’d been seven and demanding to know just how bad her mothers condition was and he had tried to skirt around the “We don’t know if she’ll ever wake up” but since the streets and the ring Doctor Foreman had seemed to relax around her. He treated her more like an equal than just some patients stupid kid.  It was why he was one of the few people in the world freely allowed to call her Miss Gluck and not be corrected to Green Lantern or Arley. Back before the ring people always called her Kid if not her name; Miss Gluck had just been Foreman’s way of showing her some basic respect. 

“Hey,” the doctor greeted, “Nurse Logan  said you were in, figured I’d say hi.”

“Thanks Doc,” Arley grinned. “How’re you doing?” 

“Good, my boss is an ass but that’s not really new,” Foreman said with a shrug. Arley had heard all about the hospital Head of Diagnostics from her mothers doctor; and nurses, if anyone hated the man more than the doctors under him then it had to be the nurses who also had to put up with the man only without a doctors salary. 

Nurse Logan had told her once the department head had once put a fetal pig experiment in the nurses fridge in the lounge because it was gross and he wasn’t putting it in the doctors fridge with his food. 

“Anything new outside of work Doc?” Arley wondered. “Like a girlfriend?”

Foreman chuckled as he stood by her mothers feet. He grabbed her mothers chart. 

“Like I have time for a girlfriend,” Foreman rolled his eyes, "With the hours my boss has me pulling, I don't need anymore responsability."

“That’s fair,” Arley shrugged. Carol always used that excuse whenever someone would ask if she was going to start dating anytime soon because it wasn’t as if she could say she was still, in fact dating Hal Jordan he was just in space. 

“What about you?” Foreman wondered. 

“What about me?” 

The doctor chuckled once more, “You’re what thirteen now?” Twelve.  She was twelve but she wouldn’t correct the Doc on her life. It was easier when people thought she was older; they didn't seem to doubt her as much. “That’s when I got my first girlfriend.” 

“I don’t have the time to date,” Arley parroted. Being a Lantern took her everywhere, she wasn’t on any one planet enough to date. It wouldn’t be fair to whomever she was with; Arley— rather regularly —saw the heartbroken look Carol tended to cast up to the stars whenever she didn’t think Arley was looking. 

And that was the truth. Sort of. 

Arley couldn’t imagine leaving someone outside of her mother and Carol behind when she died; if someone loved her in spite of everything she’d done over the years— looked over the blood on her hands —and then she died on them because of her duty— something she’d known would happen since day one —Arley couldn’t think of a more evil thing to do to someone she care about. 

“What about the Wayne kid?” Foreman wondered. 

“Dickie?” Arley blinked. “He’s like ten.” 

Foreman blinked at Arleys response. “What? No I saw you two-how tall are you?” The doctor wondered, Arley didn't answer leaving Foreman to repeat, “Ten?” 

Arley felt the apples of cheeks redden; she knew she was tiny. She was four foot seven so far and she wouldn’t grow much more after puberty hit her. 

If it ever got the chance too. 

“Yeah,” Arley muttered, “He’s ten.”

“Your mother is five foot three, only slightly below the average height for a woman. How tall was your father?” Arleys eyes fell to the floor automatically at the doctor's question. 

“No clue he was dead before I hit one,” Arley said softly. Her eyes lifted and she watched as Foreman’s eyes fluttered shut; as if she had physically hit him. 

“Right, Miss Gluck—“

“—It’s cool. Everyone forgets,” Arley shrugged, “One time I had this interview and they asked me what memory of my parents kept me going when I was saving people, like they’d said something inspirational to me and the ring had just appeared after that because I’d been so empowered by whatever they’d said.” 

“Still,” Foreman said kindly, “I’m sorry.” 

Once more Arley shrugged; she hated speaking of her father. Thinking of him. 

How could she measure if he’d be proud of her if she really only knew his name. Alfie J Gluck.  Arley only knew the J stood for Jeremiah because of the files Carol had gotten for her at her request but that didn't know she knew him. Her fathers asylum file has been barebones; besides his name all it was comprised of was that he had been a pacifist who refused to fight— the irony  wasn't lost to Arley —and his birthday was in June. 

“Any plans today?” Foreman asked a moment later. “It’s nice out, anything fun in mind?” 

“I wish,” Arley snorted; the weight that came with the mention of her father still sat on her shoulders, “I have an interview in Metropolis for two.”

Carol’s assistant had booked her a news interview with Ron Troupe and Cat Grant at Metropolis Daily Planet. Arley was supposed to talk about politics with Ron— with MIB’s public sector only just stepping out into the limelight —and more and more aliens were finally— officially; publicly — making contact with Earth and how the planet being pushed into the intergalactic spotlight— because of her and the Corps —would affect the planet. While she was supposed to speak to Cat Grant about the new uniform Carol had hired someone to design and how Ferris Industries was branching out and taking a step in the direction of companies like LexCorp and Wayne Industries by investing in other business ventures outside of aircrafts, like textiles and toys.

“No, not a fan of the lights and cameras?” Arley felt her smile slip into a grimace at Foreman’s question. 

“Sure,” Arley said sarcastically, “I love it. The best part of my job is going on air and talking about politics and fashion and if I can do my job or if I should just hand my ring over to some adult.” Arley rolled her eyes bitterly. 

Arley was worthy of her ring; she was more than worthy. She’d proved it countless times since she’d been chosen and yet no matter how many bank robberies she stopped or Yellows she fought or asteroids heading straight for a heavily populated planet— Earth, Heliopolis, Kormorax —everywhere she went people questioned her.

Because she was eleven, because she was a girl, because she was human or because of something else.

She was never good enough.

The only good thing about the interview— in Arley’s opinion —was that it gave her the opportunity to track down whoever this Superman was afterwards.

Like Batman had been— was still —operating in Gotham, there was someone in Metropolis saving people, and while this Superman might not have only struck during the night like Batman, he hadn’t yet made a public appearance the same way Arley did every time she had to save the day as he had stuck to back alley purse snatchers and such. 

“I think you’re doing a great job,” Foreman said, “Everyone here at the hospital does.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Foreman said steadily, “We do.” 

“Thanks Doc.” 

“No problem Miss Gluck.”

…

Arley’s new uniform had a hood; no longer was she wearing the standard issue Green Lantern uniform but rather something a designer Carol had hired had cooked up. She had pockets, which Arley loved as they were deep and allowed for the young hero to bury her hands into them; she also had sneakers instead of boots, high tops that though never needed to be laced or tightened, always formed to have a perfect bow. 

There were patches of black— padding —that stopped right above her knees; the padding on her arms started on her shoulders and stopped right below her elbows. The gloves she had were streamlined into the sleeves of her new uniform, though like with her elbows and knees, the green ended at her fingers joints and the black started back up, leaving Arley too look like she was wearing fingerless gloves. 

The Corps symbol was still in the middle of her chest; proudly shown off for all the universe to see.

But it was the fact her uniform was different now that was why Arley, as she was led through the Daily Planet by the Chief Editor— his name started with a P; Arley was sure of it —had her hood drawn up over her head and her hands stuffed into her pockets. She could feel the media outlets staff gawking at her the same way everyone did when they noticed her. 

If she didn’t look at them— if Arley kept her head down and didn’t acknowledge the reporters and spell checkers and other staffers looking at her as the editor leading her around rambled on about the Daily Planet's history —then Arley could tell herself they weren't looking at her. 

Or at least she had been able to. Arley felt her side clip something and as she spun so as not to get knocked back by the burly force she’d accidentally hit, Arley saw a large dark haired Daily Planet staffer spill the stacks of papers he’d had in his hands.

“Clark!” A squeaky voice called out. Arley’s eyes went wide as she dove forward before the stringy teen with a camera hanging around their neck could.

“Kriff,” she swore to herself; the Daily Planet staffer who had greeted her in the lobby spun on their heel, “Sorry!” Dropping to her knees, without any hesitation Arley smiled apologetically at the person she had knocked into.

It was a man— a young man —with large, thick bottle cap glasses. The man had a dark curl hanging down into his face; he was huge, Arley noted. Not like Kilowog or Vox were but large; the kind of big you found standing outside of clubs acting as muscle, not inside news headquarters.

The teenager with the camera— a pasty, spotty faced redhead whose terrible acne blended in with his freckles  —dropped to his knees as he started to help collect the papers Arley had caused to spill.

“I’m sorry-my bad,” Arley apologized again, as she shuffled papers into her hands, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s no problem, Miss,” the dark haired man replied politely; he had a thick country accent, the kind Arley heard when watching old Cowboy movies. “It would’ve happened even if you had been lookin’.”

The redheaded teen at his side snickered, Arley’s eyes flickered to the teen as he bobbed his head in the dark haired man's direction; a brown haired woman approached the person who had been leading Arley on a tour of the news outlet and the man— as the woman leaned into his ear to say something —turned a purple sport of color before muttering something back to her.

“He’s right, even if you hadn’t knocked into him Clark here would’ve found a way to trip over air. He’s sorta the resident klutz.”

“Still,” Arley said as the three of them stood up, “Sorry.”

From the corner of her eye Arley watched as the man who had been giving her the tour walked away; the woman that had whispered something to him stayed behind, lingering where the editor had stormed off from. 

As Arley straightened her hood had fallen down and flattened against her back; she could see the newsroom full of people watching them. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

The dark haired man— Clark —went to open his mouth only for the redhead to stuff the stack of papers he’d collected under his arm, so that he could stick his hand out towards Arley. He had multicolored braces on his crooked teeth.

“Jimmy Olsen, intern and junior photographer.” Arley stuffed the papers she had in her hand under her arm, just as Jimmy Olsen had and took his larger hand in hers so that she could shake it. 

“I’m—” 

“—Arley Carmen Gluck, the Green Lantern,” Jimmy Olsen said, the same way someone would read facts off a Snapple-cap, “Twleve years old and Earth’s very own resident superhero, I’ve read everything there is about you.”

Arley controlled the twitch in her hand; if there was one thing Arley hated about the job it was the fact though everyone knew of her no one knew her and yet everyone acted as if they did.

Only four people on world actually knew her— and even then, none of them, not even Bruce or Caroll, knew everything about her —and yet everyone else in the world always acted as if they did because they read some article or watched some news segment about her.

“Just call me Arley,” she said as she took her hand back; Arley turned to Clark and handed him the papers. Her head had to tilt back so that she could look at him; Arley knew she was short— four foot-four —but the man in front of her made her feel downright tiny. 

“Here you go, sorry about knocking into you-you know, again.”

Clark took the papers from Arley— and Jimmy Olsen —with a shrug and a good natured smile,

“It’s not a problem, honestly.”

“Hey Miss Green Lantern?” Jimmy Olsen wondered, Arley turned to look at him, “You think I could take a picture of you? Maybe like, in a cool pose or something? With Clark maybe!” He suggested eagerly as he picked the camera that was strung around his neck up.

No , Arley wanted to say, she was already going to have to go on air for the next hour, she didn’t want to stand and pose for the next ten minutes so that he could get the perfect picture, but then she saw the hopeful and excited gleam in Jimmy Olsen's eyes and Arley felt the air that had swelled up inside her lungs deflate.

“Jimmy,” Clark said in a kind but pointed tone, before Arley could nod, “Green Lantern here probably has to get to Ron and Cat.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy Olsen said, “But—”

“—Jimmy,” Clark said, Jimmy Olsen’s shoulders sagged and he nodded. Arley bit back her own grateful smile. “Right,” the teen brightened up, bouncing back immediately as he refocused his attention onto Arley, “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too.”

“Clark,” the woman who had said something to the editor Arley had met in the lobby, “Perry had an emergency to tend to, he asked me to takes these off your hands,” the woman snatched the papers from Carks hands, “And to tell you to take our hero here—” the woman flashed Arley a dazzling, almost dizzyingly beautiful smile, “—To Troupe and Cat while he handles Lombards mess.”

“Right, thanks Cathrine,” Clark replied, Clark looked at Arley, he held his hand out for Arley to pass him by, “I guess, right this way, then miss.”

When they were on the other side of the office, closer to the elevator than Jimmy Olsen, Arley peaked at Clark, the corner of her mouth tipped upwards.

“Thanks,” she said lowly as Clark and her stalled in front of the elevators, her head bobbing back in the direction they’d come from. The fact she didn’t like photographs rested on the tip of her tongue; Clark pressed the up button.

“It’s no problem,” Clark drawled, “It’s nice to know that even us normal people can help out a hero from time to time.” 

Arley’s smile— if only for a moment —flickered into a grimace, at that word; hero . She wasn’t a hero, she was  a Lantern, a soldier, a warrior, a protector and maybe the people of Earth thought she was a hero but that was only because the Justice Society had died over eighty years ago and Batman— a real hero —refused to step into the limelight and show the world how real heroes acted.

“Please don’t call me a hero,” Arley said, her smile tight, her voice gentle. Clarkes brows furrowed together. The elevator dinged and when Arley and Clark saw that no one was on it, the pair stepped on.

“Why not?” Clark wondered as the doors shut; he pressed the number fifteen.

“Firefighters are heroes, doctors and nurses are heroes, social workers-good ones, they’re heroes. I just fight bad guys,” Arley simplified. She killed bad guys— Yellow and Red Lanterns, Warlords, intergalactic pirates and smugglers —when she needed to; she did whatever the greater good of her sector called for because that was her job, “I’m not a hero like those people.”

Heroes didn’t hurt people; not the way she did. They didn’t do what she did.

“No,” Clark said, peering over the edge of his glasses at Arley, “I suppose not, but just because you’re not a hero like them, doesn’t mean you’re not a hero at all.” 

Yes it did. He didn’t get it and he never would and Arley knew she would never see the Daily Planet staffer again after today— unless of course she came back for another interview —and yet all she wanted to do was shake him by his broad shoulders and make him understand.

She was a warrior. A soldier, not much different from the boys who had just come back from the Gulf the year before and no one called them heroes. In fact Arley could remember the protests the news showed; people had called those soldiers killers. 

Monsters . 

Arley just turned away from the young man, her hands shoved back into her pockets. Clarks shoulders sagged and a moment later— as he opened his mouth to say something else to Arley —the elevator door dinged open to revolve a studio news set. 

Dozens of people were running around; several cameras were pointed at the set where a bubbly looking blonde woman and slightly older African American man with a short-flat top hair cut both sat chatting to one another.

Clarks hand pressed against the elevator's side so that the doors didn’t close on them as both he and Arley stepped out onto the new station's floor. As they stepped onto the floor, personal assistant’s, people manning the hanging mics and camera men seemed to turn their way; the reporters— Ron Troupe and Cat Grant —both stood from their seats.

Arley wanted to flick her hood back up, she wanted to hunch her shoulders forward. 

Why did everyone always have to look at her? 

She didn’t though; Green Lanterns didn’t show weakness. Arley straightened her shoulders and smiled pleasantly at the people she passed as Clark led her towards the set.

Cat Grant was the first to meet Arley, she was practically vibrating; the blonde woman was dressed in a bright pink dress that ended in the middle of her calf, her pointed nails though, were painted a bright lime green. Everything— from her close to her baby blue eyes, to her pearly white smile —about the woman was bright. Almost blindingly so.

“Clark!” Cat Grant greeted, smiling at the young, dark haired man, pivoting on her beige stiletto heel before Clark could fully raise his hand to greet her back, Cat Grant looked at Arley. “Arley Gluck it’s an honor to meet you, I love the new costume, I cannot wait to talk to you about it-would you prefer to be called Arley or Green Lantern on air?” Cat Grant fired off quickly as she stuck her hand out for Arley to shake. 

Shaking it, Arley shrugged.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Grant, and Green Lantern is fine with me on air-off you can just call me Arley if you’d like,” Arley answered, “And this isn’t a costume Mrs. Grant,” Arley tacked on, “It’s my uniform.”

Cat Grant meagerly blinked in reply as Arley pulled her hand back so that she could shake Ron Troupe's hand; Ron Troupe had a space tie on and strands of gray littering his hair.

“Nice to meet you sir,” Arley said. Ron Troupe nodded back, 

“Pleasure to meet you too,” Ron Troupe said, when Arley released his hand Ron Troupe stepped back, “We should get you settled in before we go on air, go over a few questions and just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Arley’s tongue slipped between her top and bottom teeth; Arley knew what she was doing. Carol had been so busy the past few months, expanding Ferris Industries that ever since the interview had been booked, the only time Arley and Carol managed to speak it was when they were going over the answers Arley would give.

Carol was as nearly as bad of a drill sergeant as Kilowog had been in bootcamp; phrasing the same question eight different ways so that she wouldn’t get tripped up or say the wrong thing. 

And even if Carol hadn’t turned into a drill sergeant over this particular interview, it wasn’t like the CEO hadn’t had Arley give other interviews almost three full years. She wasn't new at this.

“Right,” Arley said; Cat Grant and Ron Troupe both turned to head back over to their seats as Arley turned to Clark. Arley shoved her hands back into her pockets and craned her neck to look up at the Daily Planet staff member. She flashed him a smile, this one far more genuine then the others she’d been giving people since she first stepped foot into the building.

“Thanks for showing me up here. And sorry again for knocking into you,” Arley said.

“It’s no problem, like Jimmy said, if you hadn't knocked into me I would’ve found a way to trip over air.” Arley nodded, she went to turn only for Clark’s hand to shoot out and for the pads of his fingers to gently touch the top of her shoulder.

Arley spun back around, her brows raised.

“You should revise your definition of hero; when you showed up with that ring of yours you—’ Clark paused, “—You’re my hero, have been for a while now. All I’m saying here is maybe you should start thinking of yourself as one.” 

How could she? Heroes were good guys and yeah she did good things— saved people from burning buildings, stopped hostage situations, stuff like that —but she also did horrible, awful things in the name of her duty. 

Most nights she woke up thinking she was covered in someone else's blood or still feeling the heat of a battleship she'd destroyed months ago still hot against her skin.

“Sure,” Arley said tightly. Clark's small smile fell as his hand dropped from Arley’s shoulder; spinning away from him Arley’s feet lifted off the ground as she swept over to the open seat between Cat Grant and Ron Troupe. 

…

A half hour later, after the weather and local news had been done, and after Arley and Cat had spoken about just who had designed her new uniform— Karl Lagerfeld —and if she had a boyfriend— no, she didn’t; she was eleven and there were times she was off world for weeks at a time  —and all about Ferris Industries expanding outside of military contracts and into other business ventures, Ron Troupe leaned one arm against the edge of the table as he looked at Arley.

“You’ve been the Green Lantern for how long now? Two years? Three?” Ron Troupe asked, Arley smiled at him.

“Three next month,” Arley answered; while it had only been three years since she had passed through boot camp and come back to Earth, it’d been almost three and a half since she had gotten her ring.

“So Green Lantern, last week aliens from the planet Scylla made first contact, what are your thoughts on this?” Ron Troupe asked. 

“I’m excited,” Arley said, “There’s so many other planets in this sector alone. So many other galaxies, and the Sol galexiey, the Milky Way,” Arley corrected herself for everyone watching, “Well, we’re one of the few in the universe that has no contact with any other planet.” 

There were planets out there that were self isolated; but those were planets— like Rann —who had already reached for the stars and saw what lay beyond them only to turn away for one reason or another. 

Arkkis Chummuck, another Lantern— his sector was three-zero-one-four —had once called Earth, and the rest of the galaxy , Backwater. Ch’p, the Green Lantern from sector one-zero-one-four, thought the fact that humans lived and died on the same planet without ever having the chance to see what else was out there was blasphemous .

“I’m excited for people to see what I see every day,” Arley added on.

“You aren’t worried?” Ron Troupe asked, “These Scyllians could be dangerous, right?”

“They're not,” Arley replied, “Look just like here, there are criminals on Scylla but the officials that came to make contact with Earth, they aren’t doing it for nefarious reasons, they’re doing it for the same reasons the US trades with England or Argentina, because Earth offers new trade options, new options for resources, stuff like that.”

“And what if these Scylla get greedy?” Ron Troupe wondered, “What if they attack us for our resources?”

“What if Earth gets greedy?” Arley said; she visibly twitched at her knee jerk response. That wasn’t what she was supposed to say; Carol had coached her to tell Ron Troupe and the people watching that she would protect the Earth. Her teeth scraped against her bottom lip, her answer was supposed to be diplomatic, ‘If Earth is attacked I’ll protect it, if Scylla gets attacked I’ll protect it. My job is to protect my sector.’

“Why hasn’t anyone made contact with us before?” Ron Troupe wondered, “Why now?” Arley could hear what wasn’t being said; ‘You’re the reason aliens are coming to Earth, aren’t you?’ .

“Just because no one’s come down with a neon sign doesn’t mean no one’s come down; there are hundreds of aliens on Earth right now. There’s people who look like me and you who are descendants of aliens who landed hundreds or thousands of years ago. I mean, if you’re asking why no one’s come to tell us to take them to our leader, it’s probably because up until a hundred years ago we didn’t know what steam power was and up until ten years ago, almost everyone in the universe only ever thought about Earth in passing when looking on a map.” Ron Troupe blinked, 

“Ten years?” Not three and a half? 

“There was another Lantern before me,” Arley said, she never mentioned Hal by name as he had wanted to keep his animosity a secret even when he was patrolling the sector. “I know I’ve said that before, but up until ten years ago the last human Green Lantern, Waverly Sayre, was actually partnered to a Scyllaian, Green Lantern Laham, back in the sixteen hundreds, and between me and the last guy the universe is finally remembering that we exist.”

“Right,” Ron Troupe replied, there was a beat, “Do you think other planets will reach out? Other galaxies?”

“Sure,” Arley shrugged, “I don’t see why not. I mean, there’s three thousand and six hundred sectors in total and all those sectors hold dozens of galaxies. There are thirteen in our very own. Now that people across the universe are finally seeing Earth, why wouldn’t they want to come here?” 

Ron Troupe leaned his head back, just as he leaned forward once more, Arley’s ring beeped; the ring alight and Arley’s eyes moved from Ron Troupe to her ring. Cat Grant moved in her chair so that both she and Ron Troupe could look at Arley.

Suspicious alien activity.  

Arley’s mind flew back to the alien who she and Batman had come to blows with over a year before— her mind flew to Darkseid who the Guardians refused to act against; one rogue agent meant nothing to them —before she stood from her seat.

“I have to go,” Arley said curtly. Her feet lifted off the ground as a small, palm sized map appeared over her ring; downtown Metropolis. 

“Go?” Ron Troupe blinked, “We’re in the middle of an interview.”

“Sorry,” Arley lied, “Duty never rests.” Or something, Arley thought that’s how the saying went.

Arley  flew into the air of the newsroom; the camera’s followed her as she shot towards the stairs. Due  to how high up they were the windows wouldn’t open so it wasn’t like Arley could just fly out of them and with how unpredictable elevators could be it wasn’t like she was going to wait for an elevator, not when peoples lives were in danger.

Not when she had a job to do.

…

When Arley touched down in downtown Metropolis Arley didn’t see a fanged alien like her and Batman had fought but rather, instead— amongst the overturned cars, the smoke and disarray that had become Jefferson street —Arley found a large pink alien with a cybernetic arm that doubled as a weapon— the arm looked more like a blaster then a limb —and dark mohawk.

Arley could hear the oncoming police sirens in the distance. Some civilians peaked out of their windows; others who had been shopping and going about their daily business littered the closed doorways of several stores, all of them huddled together behind the glass doors.

“Hey!” Arley, with a taunt spine and hands cupped over her mouth, called out as she watched the alien fire at an already overturned car, the alien lowered their arm and spun to look at Arley who’s arms had been thrown out in front of her, “What the hell!”

Arley looked at the dark clothes the alien was wearing; there was a discolored piece of fabric on the alien's left breast where some kind of patch had once been. Knives were strapped to the aliens left thigh and there was a pouch of some kind tied around their waist; a lot like a fanny pack. Flickering between the alien and the area behind them, Arley scanned the area behind the alien, looking for any civilians that could be hurt.

Though the alien was at least fifteen paces away from Arley, Arley saw the alien's dark eyes narrow as they eyed the symbol on her chest, his chin tilted up in question; the alien peered down his nose at Arley.

“You’re this sector's Lantern?” They asked loudly. Their voice echoed throughout the street.

“Yeah,” Arley nodded, “Now I repeat my question, what the hell?”

“I’m Hakk, I was hired to look for the last Kryptonian. I tracked them here, to this city. I will not be leaving without them,” the alien— Hakk —said. Arley’s brows raised, she knew almost all the planets in her sector— it had been one of the things she’d needed to learn in boot camp —and Krypton wasn’t one of them. 

Though it did sound familiar.

“What, are they a criminal or something?”

“Does it matter?” Hakk asked. Police cars stopped at both ends of the street; ambulances lined up behind them. Police, with their weapons drawn, exited their cars but didn’t take a step closer. They were waiting; perhaps for their commanding officer's instructions, or perhaps for Arley’s signal to fire.

Behind the police cars and ambulances news vans rolled up to the scene.

“Yes,” Arley snapped, “I’m not letting you kidnap some Kryptonian anymore then I’m going to allow you to terrorize people in my sector. Look if they’re a criminal, give me their name and the last place you’ve tracked them to and I’ll find them—”

“—And if they aren’t?” Hakk interrupted Arley with a mocking tone.

“Then I’ll only ask you once, leave. Otherwise you’ll be arrested for property damage, disturbing the peace and whatever else the cops can charge you with.”

Hakk let out a chuckle, the smile he wore was sharp and Arley’s feet moved so that her knees were bent, her shoulders tensed. 

“Neither of those will be happening, Lantern. I’m going to find this Kryptonian and I’m going to take them to the person who hired me.” Hakk’s smile dropped, “Don’t make me fight you, I would hate to be on the Corps watchlist for killing a child.”

“Right,” Arley breathed, her fists moved so that they were in front of her, “You’re under arrest or whatever asshole.” 

Hakk raised his cybernetic arm— the one that doubled as some kind of gun —and fired. Arley used her ring to throw up a shield so that she could block the blast; diving out of the way, allowing her construct to drop, Arley formed a giant snake with her ring.

The glowing construct was about the size of a city bus; it slizzered forward and shot out to wrap around the pink alien; only for Hak to reach into the pouch he had tied around his hip. Pulling something out as the construct wrapped around him Arley’s eyes widened as Hakk threw three dark, golf ball sized balls towards one of the storefronts. 

Dropping her construct, Arley’s fist shot out so that a bubble would form around the small handheld bombs Hakk had thrown; the bombs— as Hakk raised his arms once more in Arley’s direction —exploded inside the bubble. 

Arley dove to the side, behind a car, as Hakk fired at her once more. Arley made eye contact with one of the officers that was huddled behind their car; she couldn’t worry about them and herself. Arley furiously  shook her head, as if telling the cop to get back, and though the cop hesitated, they nodded before turning their head down and speaking into their radio. 

Arley’s head peaked out from behind the car only to duck down once more when Hakk fired at her again. The blast sailed over her head and into a lamppost.

“Why are you hiding! I thought Green Lanterns were fearless!” Hakk called out.

Arley grit her teeth. Throwing her arm up and over the side of the car— firing in Hakk’s direction —Arley spun out from behind the car. Only to find, when she was out in the street with her arm held out in front of her Hakk was nowhere to be found. 

Arley’s eyes darted around.

“Behind the Gree—” Whatever the civilian whose head had poked out from above their windowsill was yelling was cut short by Hakk, lifting a green Volkswagen Bug clear over his head with one arm. Arley grimaced and as Hakk threw the car at Arley a dome appeared over her head. 

Super strength, Arley thought, Of course he has super strength. 

The car fell behind Arley and Hakk lunged; Arley dropped the dome and as Hakk swiped at her with one of the knives he had pulled from the holster he had wrapped around his thigh; Hakk swung down at Arley, Arley blocked the attack with her left arm as her right arm darted out and hit Hakk in the stomach.

Coming back up— spit hanging off his lip —Hakk tried to stab Arley once more, and as the knife's tip bared down on Arley one of her hands grabbed Hakks wrist while the other grabbed at the fabric on Hakks upper arm, her foot slid between Hakks as she turned and forced the alien up and over her, throwing him onto his back. 

Hakks cybernetic arm raised inches away from Arley’s face. Arley’s ring glowed as Arley threw herself back, out of Hakks way, allowing for the alien to get to his feet. Getting to her own feet, with her hands up in front of herself, Arley grit her teeth. 

Hakk still had his knife in his hand; Arley formed a knife of her own. The weapon's glowing green handle fit perfectly into her palm.

Arley stiked first, her arm darted out as she lunged at Hakk, and Hakk batted her hand away with his cybernetic arm, allowing him to hover over her back for half a second. A second was all Hakk needed to stab her in the area between her spine and shoulder blade.

It was different from when Amon Sur had stabbed her two years ago; different from all the other times she’d been stabbed or shot, because before Hakk ripped the knife out of her back, he twisted it. 

For a second, Arley saw white as she felt the air escape her, she hit the street; Arley landed half on Hakk’s foot. The alien didn’t hesitate to kick her off, several feet away. Arley landed on top of a car, crushing the windshield. 

‘Once you put this ring on, your life isn’t guaranteed. A Lantern’s life can end like that—’ Hal had snapped three and half years ago. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

Yes. Because she had gotten a family out of it; she’d gotten friends. Bruce and Dickie and even the agents at MIB.

Arley threw herself off the car, grunting as she hit the asphalt; the world around her was spinning and Arley could feel the blood under her suit running down her back, she could see Hakk, as he approached her flipping his knife in the air like he was enjoying the fight.

And maybe he was.

Arley stumbled to her feet.

“Chayra’s soul kid, give up,” Hakk laughed, “You’re bleeding. Step aside and let me find who I’m looking for, I’m sure those Guardians of yours will give you a pat on the back for trying.”

“Go to hell,” Arley snapped, her ring sparked to life on her finger, leaking light as ideas for constructs flickered through her head, “The Kryptonian is in my sector, asshole, meaning they’re under my protection. The only way you’re getting to them is over my dead body!” 

Hakks shoulders dropped, he flipped the knife once more.

“Have it your way.” Hakk took a step towards Arley and a spear formed in her hand. It was twice her size and both ends were pointed; Laira had shown her how to use it the last time she was on Oa. After Kilowog, Laira— the Lantern from sector zero-one-one-two —was the next Lantern Arley would want at her side. 

Hakk raised his arm to swipe the blade down at Arley only for something— someone —to seemingly come out of nowhere and land in between both Arley and Hakk before either party could attack the other. 

Arley’s eyes widened at the sight of a bright red cape; she took two steps back and watched as Hakk’s knife bent against the newcomer's arm. Arley gapped as the newcomer easily— without so much as a sweat —picked Hakk up by the front of his shirt, only to throw the pink alien into one of the cars that lined the street. 

The tan colored car bent around Hakk as the alien crushed the hood under his weight.

She caught sight of an equally bright red ‘S’ on his chest; Superman , Arley thought. Just as Batman had the symbol on his chest and Arley had her Corps’ symbol on hers, Superman must have his symbol on his chest. 

The newcomer— Superman —turned to Arley and though he had attacked Hakk, Arley stilled and gripped her construct tighter; she could be wrong, this could be someone else entirely. The symbol on his chest didn’t have to mean he was Superman; Arley’s grip loosened at the sight of the newcomer's warm smile aimed in her direction. 

All the whispers about Superman said he was strong, that bullets bounced off of him the same they would ricochet off a wall; they also said he was kind. Where Batman would simply disappear into the night after having saved someone,  this Superman would hover at the side of whoever he had saved until the sounds of sires had been heard and he could no longer stay.

“Thank you,” Superman said, there was a hint of some kind of accent in his speech, “I’ll handle this from here. You should get medical attention.” 

Superman's smile dropped and they turned back to Hakk, with their broad shoulders pushed back the newcomer started towards the pink alien; they didn’t bother to stop as Hakk, still in the wreckage of the car, raised his cybernetic arm and fired.

Like the knife hadn’t, the blast didn’t even affect Superman, Arley’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open— “ Holy shit he’s real!” Someone, a cop maybe, or a civilian perhaps, exclaimed loudly —as Superman once more picked Hakk up by the front of their shirt. 

“I heard you were looking for me,” Superman said, Hakks face dropped. 

“You’re the Krpytonian?” 

Superman wasn’t some dude who’d fallen into a vat of nuclear waste; he wasn’t the descendant of some alien who had inherited their recessive traits, Superman was the alien. 

“I am.” 

A myriad of emotions passed though Hakks face; the pink alien’s fist swung out and hit the side of the Kyrptonians face, only for Hakk, with a mangled cry, to reel his hand back. Superman— even with Hakks super strength —acted as if he’d never been hit; using the arm that wasn’t holding Hakk up, Superman grabbed the end of the other alien's cybernetic arm and squeezed. 

Once he was finished squeezing the barrel of the Hakks cybernetic arm like a finished soda can— so that Hakk could no longer fire at either him or Arley —Superman dropped Hakk. 

With a vengeful snarl, Hakk’s legs kicked out and Supermans’ feet came out from under him; Arley as Hakk jumped on top of the Kryptonian, thrusted her arm out and a glowing green hand shot out from Arley’s ring, ripping Hakk off of Superman and throwing him once more, back on top of the already ruined car he had landed on before. 

Superman, as he got to his feet, looked to Arley, “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Arley said as she maneuvered her construct to unstrap the holster full of knives from around Hakk’s thighs and the fanny pack like bag from around his waist. “I owed you one,” Arley added. She turned to the police and nodded.

Arley and Superman carefully watched as several officers and a handful of EMT’s came rushing forward; the police swarmed Hakk, their guns were drawn as a few of them, and some of the EMT’s who had rushed forward, began to lift him off of the car. Once Hakk was secured into a stretcher three EMT’s swarmed Arley and Superman, gawking at the both of them.

Arley loved saving the day but she hated when afterwards people looked at her like she was an exhibit in the zoo. Like some sort of sideshow to marvel at. She wasn’t; no one marveled at firefighters after they put out a blaze or doctors after surgery. 

But then again, firefighters and doctors were heroes. 

Slowly civilians began to come out of the stores they’d gone to hide in; like the EMT’s they were looking at Arley and Superman. An elder man though, hovered by the destroyed car both Arley and Superman had sent Hakk into. 

Superman, as Metropolis civilians, continued to look at him and Arley, shifted closer to the young Lantern. 

“Lantern one of the officers said you’d been stabbed—”

“—I’m fine,” Arley told the EMT; a young man with golden hair and brown eyes, “My ring will take care of it.” 

“Are you sure?” Superman asked. “I saw what happened.”

“I’ve had worse,” Arley answered somewhat sharply; she didn’t need to be second guessed in front of civilians, not when they had already seen her get her ass kicked. Not when they already doubted her. “Besides, we need to talk before I go down to the station to find out what the police are going to be doing with Hakk.”

The public sector of MIB— BETTA, much to Zeds charging —had stepped into the spotlight weeks ago; and while the Metropolis police department was legally bound to hand the alien over to BETTA, Arley wondered what MIB would do as Hakk would be the first alien they tried publically. 

She also wondered where they would hold Hakk. If MIB couldn’t hold him Arley was sure Vox had room in a science cell back on Oa. 

“We do?” Superman blinked. Arley’s eyebrows raised as she nodded. “Okay.”

Arley sucked in a deep breath as she lifted herself into the air; Arley moved her arm to form a platform for Superman to stand on only for Superman’s own feet to lift off the ground after her. Impressed, and keeping it to herself, Arley led the way, leading Superman to the rooftop of an old warehouse fifteen minutes away from where the two of them had fought Hakk.

No one was around; the area was on the outskirts of Metropolis and while it would be more livly later that night, at the moment— noon on a Tuesday —it was dead.

“You’re Superman, right?” Arley asked the Kryptonian before her feet had even properly touched down; Superman nodded, his mouth lifted up into a kind smile.

“I am-or at least that’s what people have been calling me. My parents-my adoptive parents though,” Superman said, allowing his accent to get thicker in a very familiar way, “They call me Clark.” 

Arley’s mouth dropped open, she blinked once and then twice.

“Like, Clark from before? That Clark?” He nodded. “Dude!” Arley laughed, “Why didn’t you say something before!”

“Because-because I’m not sure about all this,” Superman— Clark —waved his arms around them, “The way people were looking at us before, the way Jimmy looked at you back at the station. The way they always look at me after I help them, it’s like—”

“—They're not sure whether to thank you or run away screaming?” Arley suggested. People looked at her— had looked at them —like they were both grateful and fearful, like while they were wonderfied at what she had done and at what she could do, but they were also, almost waiting for her— for them; Arley or Superman, Batman —to make the wrong move.

To prove they didn’t deserve their powers; that they weren’t worthy. 

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Yeah, that part of the job sucks,” Arley told Clark, “But if you’re not sure then why’d you come help? I would’ve handled it myself, I mean, you showed yourself,” Arley pressed, “People are going to be expecting you to show up to everything now, you get that right?”

“I do,” Clark said.

“That means people are going to start looking at you too,” Arley explained, her eyes owlish; confused on why he would appear if he hated how people looked at him. “That’s not going to go away.”

“I know, but you got hurt because of me,” Clark said, “I heard what the alien said, how he was looking for me. I heard what you said, how the only way he was going to get to me was over your dead body. I couldn’t just stand around anymore after that; I didn’t-don’t care,” Clark corrected himself, “How anyone looks at me.” 

Arley felt her heart warm; she placed her hand on Clarks elbow.

“Dude I got hurt because it’s part of the job,” Arley told him, “It’s not on you okay? I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve gotten worse than this-it’s part of the job. If Hakk hadn’t knocked me around I would have gotten it on patrol later or tomorrow.”

“How are you okay with that?” Clark asked sharply, “You’re—”

“—A kid? A little girl?” Arley blinked, mockingly at Clark, her mouth twisted and slotted to the side, her tongue licked the outside of her teeth as she regine in her anger. “I was picked, trained and chosen, okay? The same way you chose to go out today and show the world you’re real, I chose to pick up the ring when the Guardians offered it to me! I was given an out, I didn't take it. I didn’t want to.”

Clark titled his chin up at Arley, his light blue eyes seemed to get darker and his young face hardened; for a moment Arley thought Clark was going to call her stupid; a fool. Selfish maybe; not that Arley didn’t already know she was selfish, she fought— killed —because the Corps had offered her a home, a family, a bed, food. Because she'd had to and Arley didn’t know the meaning of roll over and die. 

He didn’t though, he smiled kindly at her; a lot like Dickie did. Like he got her. 

“I’m sorry,” Clark said, he didn’t expand, and instead, as his mouth pressed together into a thin line, the Kryptonian leaned back, his fingers digging into the concrete edge. The afternoon sun gleaming off his cape. 

“It’s cool,” Arley said lowly a moment later, she took the seat next to him. “Do you think I could get your autograph though, my friend K, he’s pretty into Superheroes.”

Clarks booming laughter rang out over the rooftops; “Sure,” he said, “Anything for a fellow hero.”

And though Arley had issues with that word— hero; Arley wasn’t a hero —she ignored the need to argue that welled up inside of her and instead smiled, because Clark, he wasn’t like her. He was like Batman; he wouldn’t get it.  

Firefighters were heroes, doctors were heroes; Superman, Batman, they were heroes. She wasn't, she was a Green Lantern.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six — Bury a Friend 

1994 ; thirteen 

“There is something in your throat that wants to get out and you won’t let it.”

Arkkis Chummuck— the Green Lantern from sector three-zero-one-four —was dead; he’d died in the line of duty— fighting —the way most Lanterns did. 

Arkkis wasn’t the first Lantern to have died since Arley had gotten her ring— he wasn’t the second or third or even tenth; there was a reason people put a Lantern’s life expectancy at no more than five years after they got their ring —but he was the first she knew.

Truly knew that was; Arley had met the other Lanterns who’d died, at least in passing— the Corps were only so big, after all, there were only so many Lanterns —but Arkkis was someone Arley knew.

Had known.

Arkkis had been there when Arley had shown up on Oa, he’d known Hal and was a good friend to Kilowog; she and the hairy, almost wolf-like alien had even fought side by side when a criminal from his sector had made their way into hers.

He was a good person— an even better Lantern —and someone Arley would miss dearly.

It was why, just a few days shy of her thirteenth birthday, Arley found herself below the city of Oa, shoulder to shoulder in a sea of Lanterns as they all crowded around the crystal memorial hall that lay beneath the city. 

Morro, the Corps crypt keepers, pets— small, well trained dragon-like alien’s Morro called dreature’s —flew above the sea of green. Statues of fallen Lanterns that had been immortalized for their deeds, glowed from their places along the wall, and the Guardians who had come to speak for Arkkis Chummuck held their heads high as they welcomed Thormon Tox— the Lantern who had been there with Arkkis, who had brought his body back even after it was too late —to the glowing green podium Morro had constructed.

Behind him, next to Kilowog was the newest Lantern; the one who’s Arkkis’ ring had gone too after he’d died. Barreer Wot.

“I—” Thromon Tox paused, as he looked to Gurdian Dennap, “—Thank you sir.” Thormon turned to the sea of Lanterns, his fingers curled around the edges of the podium. From her spot in the crowd Arley could see the unshed tears in Thormon Tox’s eyes. 

“Arkkis is-was a good man, an honorable man. We became Lanterns around the same time, the two of us went through basic together. We got our symbols the same day. He was the brother I never thought I’d have,” Tox said softly. He stood there quietly for a moment, his head bobbed forward and then back with his chin tilted up.

“I’m going to miss him,” Tox said heavily before he let out a sad sounding wet laugh, “I had a whole speech planned but none of it seems to matter now. Telling you about the time he dropped everything to rush to my sector, four hundred sectors away, because my sister and niece had both been injured and I needed someone there with me, won’t bring him back. Nothing is going to.” Tox shuddered at the glowing green podium and Kilowog moved from the newest White Circles side to Tox’s.

“Arkkis is gone, and it’s my fault. He died saving me because that’s the kind of Lantern-the kind of man he was. He was one of the best of us and he’s gone,” Tox hissed as Kilowog placed his hand on the alien's shoulder, turning him from the crowd and to his broad chest. 

Arley could see Tox’s shoulders shake against Kilowog and as she felt a large balloon swelling in her own throat Arley tipped her own chin up as her fingers tightened at her sides. 

Arkkis Chummick was dead and gone and he was never coming back; and they would all have to live with that.

… 

A few hours later, with a heavy weight in her chest and a silence settled over Oa like a weighted blanket, Arley found herself in the Hazard Simulation Hall working on one of the heavy bags that hung in the corner of the room, away from the sparring ring and training course. 

Right, left, elbow, elbow.

After Kilowog had ushered Thormon Tox away the Bolvaxian had taken his place in front of the grieving crowd, Kilowog had said how Arkkis was honorable, how he was just and right; Thormon had said how he was good— one of the best —and Arley couldn’t help but wonder, what would be said at her memorial.

Lanterns didn’t live long lives and as good as she was, Arley knew she wasn’t half the Lantern Arkkis had been or that Kilowog was; Arley knew she could only ever dream to be the kind of Lantern Hal was. She knew that her time was running out. 

Would Kilowog say how she was good too? Would he say how she did what was needed of her and what was necessary, even if it wasn’t the good choice or would he say she was a kid too far over her head and far too reckless to have ever been given a ring?

Would the Guardians say how they were proud of her like they had of Arkkis or would they call her a mistake and bury their failure with her?

Elbow, elbow, left, right.

What would be said about her back on Earth? Would people say they were right, that a child was never worthy of the ring— of the responsibility —or would they look to whatever casket they had laid out for her and thank her for her service?

Would Carol make her funeral? The woman had been so caught up with work lately— the less Hal called the more time Carol seemed to spend at work; at this point the CEO had all but moved into her Coast City office leaving Arley to haunt her mansion when she was Earth-bound  —so would she prioritize work and push Arley to the back of her mind as she focused on quarterly’s and mergers or would she openly and publicly grieve?

Uppercut, uppercut, elbow, elbow.

There had been so many Lanterns at Arkkis Chummuck’s memorial— his funeral; Arkkis hadn’t had a family back on his home planet so he had been buried in the crypt —Arley wondered what her fathers funeral had been like.

Alfie Gluck had been eighteen and an immigrant trying to provide for his new and growing family when he had been mugged on the street. Her mother an immigrant as well; neither of her parents had had much— if any —money to their names.

Funerals were expensive; her father was probably in Potters Field, in some pine box with a number marked down in sharpey so the convicts who buried him would put him in the right place. 

Hook, hook, right, left, elbow, elbow.

Why had she never checked? What kind of daughter did that make her? What kind of person?

With a frown Arley threw her weight into her next punch; she knew the kind of person she was. It kept her up at night.

Uppercut, uppercut, elbow, elbow, uppercut.

Would she be buried on Oa or Earth? 

Oa was her home— her first real home with her first real family and first real bed —and she wouldn’t mind being placed in the green crystal crypt beneath the city, forever entombed and a part of the Corps, but another part of her wouldn’t mind being somewhere people could visit her.

While he remembered her Arley knew K would, Clark and Bruce and Dickie all would too. 

Carol would as well, Arley resolved. 

Sure Carol was busy with work, she was the youngest female CEO of a fortune five hundred company, of course she was busy so while she probably wouldn’t visit as often as Arley would like she would still visit. 

Carol was nice like that, like K and Clark and Bruce and Dick. 

Hook, hook, hook, hook.

What would happen to her grave when it was forgotten about though? When everyone went on with their lives and she was nothing more than worm food in the ground?

Hook, uppercut, elbow, elbow.

Would her mother miss her? Would the comatose woman even realize she was gone? How long would it take for people to move on? Would it take Carol months? Would it take Dick years? Or would they raise a glass to her on New Years and pack her away with the holiday decorations?

Dying was one thing; Arley could handle death, she was ready to die. But what came after, the uncertainty of the afterlife, the fact that those she loved may not care about her as much as she cared about them frightened her. 

Arley began to pivot her hips so that she could kick the bag she was working on, only to spin  when she felt a hand on her shoulder, her fist flew through the air on instinct— she was on Oa, she was safe but someone had touched her and her only thought had been I’m going to die —only for her legs to be swept out from under her and for a hand to dart out and grab a fistful of the front of her uniform. 

Laira Omoto, the red headed Lantern from sector zero-one-one-two and the Lantern who had helped train Arley after she had passed through boot camp. She was one of the best there was; Laira was the kind of Lantern Arley hoped she could be before her time was up.

Strong, willful, dependable. The kind of Lantern others looked to; worthy of her ring.

“Hi,” Arley said, her hands wrapped around the alien's wrist and forearm as her feet steaded themselves underneath herself, “Sorry.”

“You’re usually not this jumpy,” Laria said as she let the preteen Lantern go.

“Yeah well it’s one of those days.” Every Lantern had those days; with everything they saw— everything they did —they couldn’t not have days where the universe felt too small and everything felt too hot and all eyes felt they were watching, waiting.

Sometimes those days bled into nights; it was why at eleven— only a few days shy of twelve —Arley had dark rings under her eyes. 

“One of our own has fallen, everyone is having that day,” Laira said and when Arley simply blinked at the taller, alien Lantern, Laira nodded into the air before jerking her head towards the ring, “Spar with me.”

It wasn’t a request so Arley shrugged and took and followed Laira into one of the empty rings. To their right Bloobert Cobb and Ch’p  were fighting— every time Ch’p dive bombed Bloobert the pale, almost sickly looking alien would bat the squirrel away —while to the left  Graf Toren and Aegel were locked together, both trying to wrestle the other to the ground.

Laira stood on one end of the ring, her hands up in front of herself and one of her legs pushed backwards while Arley, on the other side, balled her fists together and held them chin level. Technically she was supposed to hold them nose height so that she could block her face but Arley could take a hit.

The pair waited a moment to see who would move first only for Laira to quickly get tired of the standstill. Laira’s fist shot out and Arley bobbed; the younger Lantern weaved as Laira’s other tightly closed fist shot out and though Arley threw her elbow out to block the on coming blows there was no internal chastising that came when Laira knuckles hit her cheekbone. 

“This is supposed to be spar Arley,” Laria said as she caught Arley’s chin with her fist, “Hit back or tap out.” 

But she didn’t want to do either of those things. Truthfully, a sick, twisted part of her— that she would never admit to having —liked being hit. 

There was something inside of her that sparked to life when she was in a fight— when the adrenaline flooded her system and every hair on the back of her neck stood up on its own —and her head would bob back. 

The only time Arley felt alive anymore was when her body ached from a fight; when her head swam and everything hurt just a little too much for it to be a fever dream, meaning in the ring— where Arley didn’t have to worry about death because there was no real risk for it —Arley could breathe easier.

Still, Arley knew Laira and she knew the red headed alien would call off the spar if she’d didn’t fight back so the next time Laira’s first shot out and Arley batted it away the younger of the two‘s own fist shot out and hit the alien female in the ribs. 

Laira flashed Arley a sly smile as Arley’s fist struck out again; this time Laira blocked the hit.

Laria took two steps back before she kicked her leg out wide; catching the kick aimed to her ribs and locking it between her chest and arm Arley went to spin only for Laira to lock her leg and quickly slide out of her hold. 

Going low for her own attack, Arley lunged at Laria, only for the redheaded Lantern to catch her, Laira’s hands were on her tiny hips, trying to push her down while Arley’s were latched onto the older Lantern’s thighs as she tried to take her down. 

Laira’s knee shot up— hard but not as hard as the redheaded Lantern could do —and hit Arley in the stomach; the preteen faltered and hit the ground below them with a whoosh as the air escaped her lungs. 

Arley didn’t need to see Laira’s foot bearing down on her back to know it was coming so she waited until the last possible second before rolling out of the way, her legs kicking up and locking behind Laira’s. One of her heels hit the back of Laira’s knee while the other swept the foot Laira had tried to bring down on top of her. 

Laira’s back barely touched the floor before she bridged herself backwards and cartwheeled back onto her feet; Arley, from her spot on the ground huffed, her head hung and several strands of dark hair hung in front of her face. 

If it hadn’t been one of those days and Arley and Laira had been smiling, Arley would have joked about how the bridge was unfair and how she should have won before Laira would have pointed out their enemies would never fight fair.

But it was one of those days, Arkkis was dead.

“To your feet come on,” Laria instructed, “Again.” 

And so, without any complaint because there was an almost painful itch under her skin, waiting with a baited breath to get hit— to breath, to feel alive, to be okay in someway or another because she wasn’t and would never be and there was only so much screaming someone could do in the vacuum of space —Arley got to her feet. 

…

Oa was the only city on the planet; the rest of it was an uninhabitable desert. As Arley trailed along the city outskirts, her chin and jaw protesting everytime she moved her mouth, her feet skimmed along the sand that had been kicked up onto the concrete platform the city had been built from.

Arley’s body ached; it told her that she was alive but the hairs that had stood up on the back of her neck had died down and the feeling that told her that she was living— that allowed her to suck down full breaths of air —had stopped. It had died.

Arley should have died several times over; the girl knew this. She bore the scars. Her hazel eyes turned upwards from the sandy concrete and looked towards the setting sun in the distance, the sky had become a brightly burnt orange and the stars had only just started to peak out. 

Arley— as her thoughts turned away from  how she should be dead and in the ground; how she wasn’t sure if it was luck or skill or fate that had kept her alive —wondered which star was Earth. She wondered if any of them were stars from her sector. 

Oa after all, was in the center of the universe.

Her hands were buried deep into her pockets. 

She was so small. Everything was so small. Nothing mattered and yet everything did at the same time. Maybe one small act of kindness wouldn’t matter in ten thousand years or maybe it would; maybe no one would remember her after she had died or maybe everyone would.

Arley’s hands fell out of her pockets and she eyed her ring. Her weapon; it was as much a part of her as her kidney. Sure she could live without it but truth was, just like her kidney, Arley couldn’t imagine living without the ring. She couldn’t imagine living without the Corps.

Because at the end of the day, they were the only people who wouldn’t run from her. Maybe K wouldn’t; he was a government spook after all but as Arley stood on the edge of the city she doubted it. 

Agent K was kind. 

Carol and Clark— the Kents —Bruce and Dick, they would all run from her when they found out she was no different than the average G.I that came home after a tour; their illusions of her would crumble and they wouldn’t want her around anymore then she wanted herself around some days because they were all good people. 

After almost four years everyone had started to ask her if being a Lantern was something she was considering doing long term; they asked it like there was anything else she could do. 

Arley eyed her ring. Her ring was all she was, the Corps was all she was; people on Earth talked about her like a hero but what was she without the Corps? The ring?

The ring.

The rings had universal translators in them; no matter what language in the universe Arley heard, as long as her ring was on and charged she would be able to understand the speaker. There was a Portuguese word, saudade , which meant missing something you had never had.

And while Arley looped the city in a slow walk, feeling a profound emptiness inside of her. She knew she was missing something— that something inside of her craved something —only to not know what that something was.   

… 

Every Lantern had a small, matchbox-sized apartment; there were six to a sector and all of them looked about the same. The apartments were there for Lanterns who needed them, whether it was because their assignments were on Oa and it was just easier for them to live in the Guardian city then to travel between their home planet and their sector, or because they couldn't go back to their home planet for one reason or another.

Arley had an apartment; despite the fact she’d been eight when she passed through bootcamp she was still a Green Lantern. Though unlike some other Lanterns apartments hers was bland. There weren’t pictures hanging up on the wall or momentos littering the place, making it her own; there were however, magnets cluttering the tiny fridge and a thick blanket Clarks mother had given her draped along the couch. 

Martha and John Kent were kind; Arley had gotten to know the pair over the year, Martha kept Arley’s favorite snacks in the cupboards for whenever she’d come over and John always picked her for pictionary when she’d tag along with Clark for game night. 

With her hair dripping from the shower she’d taken— though her knuckles throbbed and though everytime she flexed her hand ached, Arley couldn’t help but continue to wiggle her fingers —Arley eyed the coursework that was piled on the metal coffee table.

What was the point in coursework when it wouldn't matter in the long run. 

Turning away from her coursework and to the fridge; there wasn’t anything perishable in there but there were canned peaches and milky way bars and other small snacks Arley had brought from Earth. 

She could— after a large plate of food had been laid out in front of her and she had picked it clean; and sometimes at night when hunger started to roll over her —remember the streets. Hunger pains she felt and the taste of the food she’d find; half eaten sandwiches and bits of candy bars. 

Would people talk about what she had done when she was dead? Not as a Lantern but before; the thieving?  No one had said anything bad at Arkkis’ memorial; for all the Lanterns that had stepped up to the podium, none of them had spoken an ill-intended word about the hairy Lantern but Arley wasn’t Arkkis.

Arkkis was dead and she wasn’t. 

Pushing those thoughts away— what good was she if she wallowed; she was alive and breathing, she had work to do —Arley grabbed a milky way bar from the fridge and tore it open far more harshly then she should have.

If she was loud enough— if she was rough enough in her movements; if she hurt enough so that all she could think about was her throbbing and aching —then her concentration would laps and her thoughts would be broken and the dark thoughts that had wrapped around her like a blanket would— at least for the moment —be thrown off.

Biting into the candy bar Arley spun in her heel with a chest full of air— that hurt to suck in; Laira had bruised her ribs, not that she cared, there was something almost additive about the burn —prepared to do the stack of coursework that was due in two months when she took her test, only to pause mid step when a knock echoed through her apartment.

Silently Arley made her way to the door; taking another bite of the candy bar— she was on Oa, Arley reminded herself she was safe, she was Oa —Arley didn’t bother to ask who was on the other side of the door before she threw it open.

Kilowog, with his large hands hung behind his back and a sad, soft smile that Arley only ever saw once in a while— on the days Lanterns Kilowog had trained and known were buried —hanging on his face.

Using the back of her hand and half of the top part of her wrist Arley’s arm swept across her mouth as she swallowed the partly chewed chunk of candybar.

“Hi,” she said softly, it wasn’t the quiet tone she had used when she’d spoken to Laira, this tone was tight, there was a slight high pitched whine to it. If Arley spoke any louder she would sound on the brink of tears.

“Hey kid,” Kilowog said, “Can I come in?”

“Course,” Arley said as she sidestepped for the Bolvaxian. Arley always found herself in front of Kilowog on days like this; there was one of two ways Lanterns spent their time after burying a fellow Corpsmen. The first was in the training facility, Lanterns who knew the fallen but didn’t have families— didn’t have homes —spent their time training. 

Others did spend their time with the families;  Arisia always did, it didn’t matter if she knew the dead Lantern or not, the blonde Graxian had come from a long line of Green Lanterns, she knew her life could end at any moment, that she had to covet the time she had with them.

Kilowog didn’t have family; his planet had exploded and his wife and daughters had died, but he had been in the Corps so long— created so many ties to the other Corpsmen; forged so many bonds —that on days when a Lantern died— because after all the time he had put in, Kilowog knew every ring slinger in the universe —he would hang out in the canteen, swapping war stories until he would find himself back at Arley’s apartment, his eyes rimmed red and that far and inbetween smile on his face.

“How are you?” Kilowog asked, Arley shrugged.

“Fine,” she said, “I didn’t really know Arkkis like that.” 

Like she knew him, like she knew Laira and Arisia and Ch’p. And on one level that was the truth, she didn’t know Arkkis’s faviorte color— Arisia loved lilac —or food— ever since she had introduced him to it, Ch’p had a penchant for pizza —but she had know what his laughter had sounded like and that he had once had an older sister— Arley hadn’t known what had happened to her but Arkkis had alluded to her being murdered; his species was hunted across the universe for their fine fur coats —and she had know she could trust her life in his hands because he would have her back.

She had known him well, just well enough.

Kilowog nodded, his eyes scanned the empty walls of the tiny matchbox apartment and he eyed the thick, fluffy blanket that hung on the end of the couch, his eyes flickered between the stack of homework Arley had and the tiny television that had been built into the wall to save for space.

“Have you even started that?” Kilowog asked Arley, his head jerked in the homeworks direction.

Arley’s mouth twisted; “I was going to.”

Kilowog snorted.

“When” He asked, his smile tipped up into a much more teasing one, “The night before it was due?” 

Arley simply shoved the last of her candybar into her mouth; a construct— a glowing green hand —moved from her ring and placed the wrapper into the trash.

“Maybe,” she said with a mouth full of milkyway. 

Kilowogs eyes had traveled with the construct and there was glint in them that had almost made Arley think he was going to lecture her on improper use of her ring; only the Bolvaxian said nothing as he turned away from the nearly filled trash.

“Come on,” Kilowog said as he looked back at her, “I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to,” Arley said, the pads of her fingers pressed against the outside of her thighs, “I can do it on my own.” Her heart tightened in her chest, he had lost Arkkis— a dear friend —she had simply lost a fellow Corpsman. A fellow soldier. 

Kilowog placed one of his hands on Arley’s, his large thumb skimmed the base of her neck. Her eyes met the drill sergents. 

“It’s fine,” he told her, “I used to help my girls with their homework after patrol-we used to make a game of if, for every question they got right I’d make whatever construct they’d want.”

Arley’s lips tipped upwards into a grin— the smile felt wrong but there was a happy warmth flooding through her at both Kilowog’s instance and tidbit —as she craned her neck up to look at the pink-skinned alien.

“I have my own ring, you know.” Kilowog shot Arley a sarcastic look and the other Lantern— the human girl —shrugged, though Kilowogs hand never faulted from her back. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem kiddo.” And as the pair moved to the couch and Arley started to move her coursework around onto the table there was an odd sort of feeling settling in her chest.

She wasn’t okay, she was still upset, but under the unhappiness that had grown like an albatrosses inside of her lungs, there was warmth she couldn’t ignore; and as she finally brought her math work up so that Kilowog could see it too an urgent knock sounded from the other side of Arley’s apartment door.

Both Arley and Kilowog’s heads snapped up, her coursework forgotten about.

“Arley!” Flodo Span’s voice shouted on the other side, “Arley are you in there?”

“Yeah!” Arley called out, she and Kilowog moved quickly towards the door; the large floating amoeba-like body of the Lantern greeted her as she braced herself against the doorframe, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s an Earthman in the Central Meeting Hall,” the Lantern said.

“What?” Flodo didn’t smile as they didn’t have a face but the amoeba-like body of the Lantern twitched.

“There’s an Earthman in the Meeting Hall. The Guardians sent me to fetch you.”

And Eathman— a human —which meant one of three things; one Arley, like Hal, would be sent on a mission away from her sector— she would be leaving everyone behind on a long term mission; Arley’s gut twisted —or two. Another Lantern had died. Either Hal was dead or another Lantern had crash landed somewhere in her sector and the ring had found its next wielder on Earth.

Arley didn’t bother to tell Kilowog to lock up behind himself as she pushed past Flodo and tore off towards the Central Meeting Hall where apparently, her newest partner stood waiting for her.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven — The Ties That Bind

1994; fourteen

“The universe is there, screaming HELP ME. You stand there with bloodied hands trying. It’s not enough; it never will be.“

Guy Gardner was twenty-eight, he was loud and brash and for the past month or so, since having passed through boot-camp, not just an official Green Lantern but Arley Glucks partner. 

Arley walked down the New York City street next to her partner, the pair of them in their uniforms; Arleys hood was drawn up over the head and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets. 

Arley loved the ring, she loved the Corps, she hated the stares she got when walking down the street. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be drawn to her, judging her for one thing or another. 

People judged her for not being around when a forest fire broke out in the Amazon even though another planet was under attack from a warlord and that took precedence. Or they judged her because they hated the clothes she wore; some people thought it was tacky she wore the same clothes over and over and others bashed her for the nice clothes Carol had gone out of her way to buy for Arley. Or they judged the fact she was human or a girl or young or anything else that she couldn’t exactly control. 

She never seemed to be good enough and people, as they stared at her, reminded her of that fact.  

Carol said every famous person was looked at all the time, sports stars, celebrities, anyone with a notable face that went out into public had eyes constantly on them, but that didn’t make Arley feel any better. 

She just wanted them to stop. She had what she needed— a warm place to rest, food in her belly and a patchwork family she adored —she didn’t need notability for doing what she was meant to be doing or the weight of what the lives around her felt was good enough.

She did her best, she kept as many people as possible alive and safe every day. 

“What were you thinking for dinner?” Guy asked as they turned left. Carol had been in England the past two days for work and for some reason Guy had taken it upon himself to feed Arley, even though she was perfectly fine feeding herself. 

She’d been on her own longer than Guy had been a legal adult; they had learned to use the toaster around the same time. 

“Burgers?”

“We had burgers yesterday.”

“Burgers are quick, if something happens we need to be ready.” 

“You’re telling me you live off burgers?” 

“Sort of,” Arley shrugged, “Carol keeps pastas and stuff in the house but if I can’t reheat it in a minute or two I don’t really eat it.”

“All that microwave radiation cannot be good for you,” Guy lectured. 

Something Arley had found out since Guy had entered boot camp was that though he had gone from parole officer to gym teacher the man didn’t just love food, he coveted it in the same kind of way good critics did. Arley didn’t see the point, if it filled her and she was able to stomach it then it was fine.

“Yeah but not getting to the emergency in time is bad for everyone else,” Arley replied, she could only imagine what people would say if she was late to an emergency she had to prioritize over the others; one that mattered. “Besides, burgers everyday still beat Gotham dumpster food.” 

People seemed to forget she was a street kid at one point, living off dumpster diving, petty thievery and the random kindness of complete strangers. Food was food.

“Yeah but you don’t have to survive off dumpster food anymore, and what’s not actually good for anyone is if you kick it before your goddamn time because of all that radiation you eat.” 

Arley tried not to roll her eyes; Guy was new. He’d get it sooner rather than later, who cared what they ate when they lived on a timer? 

Arley would be gone before him— everyday she got closer to the emerald casket that haunted her nightmares —killed in the heat of battle so what did it matter if the microwaves radiation twisted her insides? 

If she could, the girl would have stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets.  If she could, Arley would have dispersed then and there. Guy couldn’t question her if he couldn’t see her. People couldn’t judge her if she just went poof.

“Lantern Gluck!” Arley turned with a smile as she heard the scratchy voice of Salem Adderson. 

Arley had met Salem on Passover Seder back when she had still been new at being a Lantern. She’s been walking around much like she and Guy were doing and he had seen her solemn look and invited her in for food. 

Food, Salem had said Was better shared than hoarded. 

It was during that dinner that Arley had learned a lot about Salem. He had escaped Germany's occupation of the Ukraine during World War Two. He had lost most of his family before the escape— his parents, twin sister and wife had all been killed either from violence or lack of access to medicine —but had managed to smuggle his two young children out of the country through Catholic Orphanages before he himself had left for the US. 

Arley had promised she would try to find them and while that had been years ago, the only thing Arley could find— with Bruce and Dicks help —was where Salem's children had been smuggled to once they and the other orphans had managed to get out of Ukraine. 

Everything after that went cold. Arley hadn’t been able to find anything after Salem's two children Radu and Rachel had been smuggled to the United States via a loosely manned ship bound to Ellis Island. 

“Salem!” Arley beamed with a wave, “How are you?” 

“I am good Green Lantern, very good!” Arleys brows rose. 

“Oh?” 

“That man you work with, the Batman, came by last night.”

“He did?” Arley asked; Bruce never left Gotham. Every day the city got crazier and crazier and even with Dick Grayson at his side the two of them were struggling to maintain the shaky semblance of order they had started to keep in the oceanside city. 

“He found my Rachel,” Salem beamed, “Or well—“ Salem shrugged, “—He found my granddaughter Mary. Oh Green Lantern, I have a granddaughter!” 

“That’s great Salem, I-Bats, he didn’t tell me,” Arley grimaced; she wouldn’t take credit for work that wasn’t hers, “But a granddaughter? How old?” 

“Older than you. She has a family of her own, the Batman he gave me pictures and a number to call.” There were tears in the man’s eyes; Arley had eaten dinner with Salem from time to time since meeting him and never had she seen the man beam the way he was. 

“Salem, that's awesome,” Arley congratulated. She let out a laugh as Salem with thin, wrinkly hands grabbed hers out of her pocket. 

“Thank you!”

“Salem I didn’t do anything, it was Bats.”

“The Batman’s letter said that if it weren’t for your persistence in finding my daughter he would have never been able to keep on it.”

Arley felt herself blush; sure she kept looking for Salem's children and sure she asked Bruce if he had any updates every once in a while but it wasn’t like she had hounded the Dark Knight. 

Arley looked at Guy who’s brows had risen. She then looked at Salem. 

“It was nothing Salem, Bats did the heavy lifting.” 

“Still—“ Salem sniffled, “—Thank you.” 

“Have you called yet?” Arley asked as she took her hands back from the elderly man.

“No. I am scared.”

“What?” Arleys brows rose, “Of what?”

“What-what if my daughter dose not remember me. Or what if she dose not want to hear from me?” Salem expressed. 

“Why wouldn’t she want to hear from you?” 

“I abandoned her and Radu, I meant to stay close by but I lost them for all these years.”

“That’s not your fault Salem, you had to hide.” He’d done what he had needed to for both him and his children to survive and that had meant putting visible distance between himself and them. 

“And if she dose not see it it that way?” 

“Then she’s forgotten what sacrifice means, if my father had done what you did Salem I would never turn him away!” Arley argued. 

She didn’t even know what her father looked like; there were no pictures. Arley would give anything to know something about the man outside what could be scrapped together from his immigration file— once her father had smuggled himself into the country he had applied for asylum —and the paper thin police report on his murder. 

“Thank you,” Salem sniffled. A moment later, “Green Lantern?” 

“Yeah?” There was the ghost of a smile playing in Arleys lips. 

“Do you think you could come and make that call with me? I do not wish to be alone.” Arley looked to Guy who had been silent; they had been trying to get dinner after all. Despite that though, the red heads eyes flickered upwards as he nodded. 

Arleys head swiveled back to Salem, “Of course Salem.”

“Thank you.”

.0.0.0.0.

An hour and a half later Arley and Guy sat in Arley's favorite East Side diner with half eaten burgers in front of them. 

Salem had needed to ring his daughter twice before her daughter Mary had picked up; Salem had gotten so weepy at the start of the call Arley had taken the phone from him— she had introduced herself to Mary and explained what the rather random Tuesday call was all about —while Guy had helped the elder man calm down. 

After that it had been smooth sailing; Kathrine had remembered her father. She too had been looking for him and her brother; she and Radu had been separated upon entry into the United States. Him to a seminary and her to a nice loving Catholic family that hadn’t been able to conceive any children of their own. 

When the two Lanterns had left Salem had been making plans to go to Nebraska to visit his daughter and reunite. 

“It’s sweet, what you and Bat did for the man,” Guy said. 

“It was nothing,” Arley shrugged. “When he told me what happened, how could I not try to help?”

“Kid—“ though it annoyed Arley to no extent when Guy called her kid, she didn’t snap at him to stop; when Guy called her kid it wasn’t because he was talking down to her; he said it just as he would any nickname. “—You reunited a man with his family.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Arley said, “Bats did the heavy lifting, I just brought it to his attention.”

Guy leaned in his booth and opened his mouth as if he were to say something only to close it; his milkshake was empty and Mary’s Hunt'— who had been picking up the wayward night shift for her daughter's book money —scooped the glass up with a smile. 

“Thanks Ms. Hunt.” 

“It’s no problem ma’am,” Mary shrugged with a smile, “I’m just doing my job. Now do you two want a refill?”

“I could go for another milkshake Ms,” Guy said while Arley shook her head; she was full. 

Mary disappeared into the kitchen in the back before either of them knew it only for her spot at the head of their booth to be filled by an alien. 

She was younger than Arley, her skin was pink and eyes near black; she wore an I survived my trip to NYC shirt that was far too big for her. 

She didn’t have hair; she had lekku. Lekku were two appendages that protrude from the skulls of Twi'leks. Twi'leks were from the planet Ryloth and though they were considered the most common species in the galaxy they looked oh so very alien on Earth. 

Though Arley was sure that would change in the years to come; the longer she seemed to have her ring the more integrated Earth seemed to become in the universe.

One day Earth would be like most of the other planets out there, intergalacticly diverse

Guy smiled down at the Twi’lek. Arley held back her sigh. 

“You guys are the sector Lanterns right?”

“You got that right sweet pea.” Guy boasted; the alien child turned to Arley. Her eyes gleamed brightly under the diner linoleum lighting . 

“You saved my father.”

“I did?” Arley blinked “When?”

“Two years ago, you saved him from being attacked,” the alien answered and Arleys eyes narrowed as she tried to remember. She tried to pick out the familiar features on the girl's face. “Back then we were living in Nevada.” 

“Oh, no shit.” Arley remembered with a small smile. While the MIB had never come out to the public about their refugee program they had stopped going to their previous lengths in hiding the aliens they placed. 

Thus— accidentally —starting a media smear campaign against aliens. It wasn’t all media outlets, in fact it was only a handful of the Right-wing outlets preaching about literal illegal aliens. 

The Godfrey show was the loudest in their anti-alien propaganda. They had invited Lex Luther onto the show; Luther was a billionaire who’s mission in life was to make Clark's life harder. 

Luther had mentioned how they were facing an economic downturn and how taking in aliens— Luther couldn’t have sounded more disgusted than when he had said aliens — would inevitably take the food out of good hardworking human American mouths just to put it in front of some Six foot tentacle alien with no job because obviously the aliens were here on Earth to live on government assistance since it had run out on their own planet. 

Carol had done what she did best alongside the MIB media liaison and had coached Arley to near exhaustion for her interviews; not that she had minded. 

Arley, who usually hated the lights-camera-action, hadn’t actually minded the pro-alien interviews she’d had to give. She got to talk about her job and the Corps and the places she had seen and for the first time since Carol had first gotten her in front of the camera Arley got to talk about the important stuff. 

Aliens weren’t their enemies. The aliens fleeing their home worlds, they were victims and the economy, it wasn’t just the United States  taking them in but aliens lived all over the globe. 

Still though for a moment everything had gotten incredibly hostile. The MIB had checked in with the aliens under their care constantly and given them alert buttons incase of something terrible happening. 

Kanan Syndulla had been one of the handful of aliens to have pressed the button the MIB had given him. He was— had been —a cab driver in Vegas. He had, one night, been pulled from his cab by a group of White Supremacists; when Arley had found him he’d been near dead. 

Arley usually held herself back on Earth; she so rarely used the extent of her Corps training when it came to humans and yet, she had sent all twelve adults to the emergency room before prison. 

One of them had been touch and go; the media had jumped on that and at the moment all the heat that the aliens had been getting seemed to refocus on Arley. 

She was too young. Too reckless. Too emotional.

Even the likes of Bruce had agreed with the news; she’d let herself be blinded by anger but how couldn’t she? All she had been able to think about was her father. He’d been beaten and robbed. Kanan had talked about his girl, his—

“Jana,” Arley said. The girl beamed. 

“You know my name!” The Twi’lek bounded on the balls of her feet. 

“Yeah, how’s your dad?” Arley had held his hand in the ambulance. She’d left when he had been taken into the operating room; his blood had covered her suit. 

She gotten used to blood covering her suit; blue, green, purple or red it didn’t matter, Arley didn’t flinch at the gore on her uniform anymore she saved it for her nightmares. 

“He’s great, Agent O relocated us to New York and now I’m in the third grade and my father owns a grocery store!”

“He does?” Jana nodded,

“It’s a few blocks away, we sell a bunch of stuff from off world.” 

“No way!” Arley said in an over exaggerated tone of amazement. 

“Jana?” Three parts of eyes flew to the purple Twi’lek man that had stepped out of the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“I’m talking to the Green Lanterns!” 

“Oh.” The Twi’lek— Kanan —breathed in deeply. He had a scar running down his face; from his eyebrow to jaw, and another one peaked up from the collar of the shirt he was wearing, stopping just below his jugular.  “Green Lantern Gluck.”

“Kanan,” Arley greeted, “I’m glad you're well.”

“Of course I am, you saved my life; did Agent O pass along my gratitude?”

He had tried to give Arley the fruit basket the Twi’lek had put together only to keep when Arley explained she did the best she could not to take anything for doing her job. 

It had felt wrong.

Carol had taken her in, Bruce and Dick and Clark and Agent K all treated her as their equal. Her life had changed already because of the ring, she didn’t need to be showered in gifts because of it.

“He did, thank you.” 

“No, thank you, you saved my life. I would have died if not for you Lantern.”

“I just did my job Kanan, it wasn’t anything.”

“To you,” Kanan said softly as he picked his daughter up; Jana clung to her father, “But to me Lantern? It was my life.”

Arley guessed. She shrugged her shoulders, Kanan then turned to Guy.

“Your partner is amazing.”

“I know,” Guy boasted; “Though I’m coming for that spot.” 

Kanan threw his head back and laughed as Arley leaned forward. 

“You know Rookie I think I’d be worried if I didn’t have to help you write your last debrief.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know the grammar structure to Mirialan?” Arley grinned, her teeth bared in Guy's direction. 

She had messed with Guy— just a little —when she had told him his debriefs had to be in the language of the planet they’d worked on. Kilowog had done something similar when she had started. She was sure when Guy got a partner, after her, he would do the same.

Arley nearly paused at the thought; her heart twisted at the thought of Guy with a partner that wasn’t her. She liked Guy; the more time they doesn’t together the more she thought of the man like a friend.

His next partner would probably be an adult, someone the public approved of more. Someone better.

Arleys nails bit into the palm of her hand.

“Stay safe,” Kanan said, more so to Arley than Guy, it was obvious with the way his eyes stayed stuck to her,  “Please I don’t know what our sector might do without you.”

Keep turning, Arley wanted to say. When she died nothing would stop; the universe would go on as normal. She could count the people who would miss her on a single hand; though she doubted anyone would miss her for long.

She didn’t tell Kanan and Jana that instead she leaned back in her chair, 

“Hopefully we don’t have to find that out for a while.”

“Hopefully.”

“Goodbye Green Lanterns!” Jana said from the crook of her fathers shoulders. 

“Bye sweet pea, stay in school!” Guy waved. When the two Twi’leks were done the red head looked at Arley, brows raised and a palm scraping against the length of his face. 

“What?” Arley asked. 

“Nothin’, just thinking. We should go, you said you wanted me to meet your ma’?”

“Yeah. She’s catatonic but the Docs say she can hear me.” Arley wasn’t sure how true that was— she wasn’t sure she wanted it to be; the thought of her mother being conscious but trapped in her own body was horrifying —but a small part of her hoped they were. 

Arley never told her mother about what her job in the Corps was really like; if on the off chance the doctors were right and the woman could hear everything Arley said. She glorified it to her mother the same way she did to Carol and the media and everyone else on the planet. 

“It’s sweet you still talk to her.”

“Whatever,” Arley rolled her eyes as she threw down three twenties. More than enough for the food and enough to help out with the textbook— second hand —Mary’s daughter needed for one of her classes. 

Arley pretended she didn’t see Guy's questioning look on their way out or hear Mary’s sharp intake of breath. 

0.0.0.0

Arley had wanted Guy to meet her mother; and for a moment he had. They’d barely gotten in the room when their rings had started blaring. 

A large, and rather violent volcanic eruption in the southern hemisphere of the planet Nidessi had started a chain reaction of earthquakes and other natural disasters that covered hundreds of miles and impacted millions of lives, and while for the most part the people of Nidessi were self sufficient, the damage done by their planets mother nature was to grand leading to the two Lanterns to tirelessly rescue hundreds— thousands if Arley were honest; she and Guy worked for days after they were called —of citizens from their homes all whilst trying to contain the natural disasters damage the best they could.

The pair of Lanterns, having scavenged an area that had been destroyed by a tsunami for any lives left, sat on the rooftop of a building, their legs dangled over the edge. 

Arley felt her shoulders scream as she fought against sagging them. She was Sector leader, and there was so much more work to do, she couldn’t rest. 

And yet a yawn still built in her chest. 

“Hey kid?”

Arley didn’t even fight Guy as she leaned against him, her eyes fluttering upwards. “Yeah old man?”

“Old man,” Guy huffed, he leaned backwards, he moved from his hands to his elbows. Arley moved with him. Her left eye shut, then her right and then both snapped open. 

“You should rest,” Guy said.

“We have more work to do,” Arley mumbled.

“We’re dead on our feet.” 

And?  Who cared; “People need us.”

If they took a nap and Nidessian’s who had been holding out for the past three days died it would be their fault. Correction, it would be all her fault; she was the sector leader after all. 

“We’re on what three-four days no sleep? We’re shot.”

“We have to keep going,” Arley argued. “We can’t fail.”

“Kid, Arley,” Guy looked at her, “I don’t think you can fail at this gig.” It said it softly, more softly then Arley had heard him speak before. His words though, despite their soft tone, rolled right off Arley's back. 

“What are you talking about, of course I can.” She failed constantly; every time she had to kill on the battlefield instead of managing to talk her opponent down. Every time she made a choice that prioritized one planet’s needs over another. Every time she breathed she failed at something. 

To some it was an over exaggeration to say everything was their fault and Arley knew not everything was her fault but her choices had consequences, people died when she chose which meant she failed. 

Even as she and Guy saved life after life someone else in her sector was dying; they were failing. They weren’t enough. 

But they had to be.

She had to be. Or what was it— all the blood on her hands, every nightmare and bad day where she walked to one edge of Oa and back —all for? 

Arley got to her feet. She steadied her swaying before Guy even got to his feet. He was sturdy on his despite the bags under his eyes.

“Come on,” Arley said before she took off from the rooftop, “There’s more people out here, I know it.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight — Morningstar

1996; fifteen

“It’s not about grief or loss, it’s not about death; no Plasm thirty-one is about being hurt by your enemies and being ashamed of what they made you into.”

When Arley woke up it wasn’t in her bed back in Coast City, or under Martha Kent’s hand knitted covers in the Kent’s guestroom, but rather— because Carol was on a month long business trip to Hong Kong —when Arley woke up it was in Baltimore, on Guy Gardner's lumpy couch, under an old gray comforter. 

Arley could smell the French toast in the kitchen making and she could hear her rookie singing lowly along with the words, rapping to Ice Cube’s You Know How We Do It as he made breakfast. 

Arley stretched under the checkered  gray and black comforter— her back, as she arched it, let out a series of quite pops —before throwing it off and unceremoniously rolling to the floor, Guy’s head jerked up, away from the stove and Arley met his eyes as he looked over the counter that separates the kitchen and living room. 

“Morning kiddo,” Guy said, he flashed her this smile that let her know he knows how much she hated  kiddo— kiddo was different from kid; or at least in Arleys book —it was rough and teasing but it was also so full of warmth that as Arley got to her feet she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his antagonistic behavior. 

“Morning Gramps,” she replied easily as she moved around the counter and into the tiny kitchen for a glass of ice tea. A construct shot out of her ring as she opened the fridge and the glowing green hand gilded through the kitchen. 

When she had first  gotten the ring, Arley wouldn’t have been able to get the jug of ice tea and have a conversation as she willed her construct to fetch her a glass from the cabinets, she would have had to completely focus on maintaining her construct. 

“Gramps my ass,” Guy replied with a snicker, “I’m thirty-two.”

“I might as well stick your ass in a retirement home then, huh?” Arley laughed as she took the glass from her construct and poured it full of ice tea. 

“Whatever,” Guy grumbled good-naturedly as he flipped the sizzling piece of French toast onto the plate that was next to the stove; there were already two pieces of French toast on that one and the one behind it already had three pieces drenched in syrup and half eaten, as if Guy had been picking at it whilst cooking Arley’s portion of breakfast. 

“Take your food and eat up, I was thinking we could go to the park today,” Guy told Arley as he passed her the plate. The ceramic was second hand and had faded bright orange flowers decorating the edges of it; Guy had picked it up at a flea market.

Arley’s eyes— as Guy turned off the stove and grabbed his own plate —flickered to the clock that hung above the fridge. It was seven-thirty-four.

“You’re not going into work today?” Arley questioned her sector partner. If they were going to the park they only had an hour or so.

Guy was a teacher— a Gym teacher, but still, a teacher all the same —and teachers couldn’t just take the day off for no reason. Guys first class of the day was at eight-forty-five.

And while the  school board was already lenient with Guy, understanding he now had other duties; and Arley knew Guy well enough to know that he couldn’t— wouldn’t —take advantage of that. Maybe if she hadn’t been a Lantern for as long as she had been— maybe if her and Guy weren’t seemingly attached at the hip nowadays —Arley wouldn’t have noticed Guy’s shoulders tension at her question because it had been minuscule.

But she had been and she did. 

“Nah,” Guy answered with no real explanation tacked on. Maybe if she hadn’t been a Lantern— hadn’t been Guy’s sector partner and known him the way she did; if he wasn’t her best friend —then maybe her brows wouldn’t had raised in suspicion at the tightness in his voice.

“Okay,” Arley said slowly as she sat in the stool at the counter, Guy moved to sit next to her, “Why the park though?”

They could go almost anywhere in the universe and still be back before lunch after all, so if Guy was going to blow off work and they weren’t going to patrol, why the park a few blocks down?

“Why not?” Guy shrugged, “It’s nice out, why not get some ice cream, throw a ball around-besides you like dogs right?” Arley nodded, she loved dogs. “On Thursdays the park lets dogs roam free until eleven so if we get there before then someone will probably let you play with their dog.”

“Why do you know that?” Arley asked with a chuckle, her head cocked to the side as she stuffed a forkful of french toast into her mouth, “Is this your way of telling me you’re getting a dog?” 

“I’m not getting a dog-I just—” Guy paused , his tongue flicked out of his mouth and wet his lips as he looked down at Arley, he moved atop the stool so he was facing her, “—Don’t you ever just want to be a snot-nosed kid? Run around, have fun?”

Arley frowned, her brows pinched together at the question.

No, was the automatic answer that came to mind.

A normal life wasn’t something Arley could see herself having. How could she? After everything she had done there was no putting down the ring, no having any sort of civilian life like Clark and Bruce and Dick had, there was only the Corps. 

No was the automatic response that came to mind when being a Corpsman was all she was meant for.

“Why?” Was what she asked with a half-shrug.

Guy’s lips pressed together, he shrugged in response to her question. His eyes were usually a light blue, usually they reminded Arley of the sky and robin's eggs; now though— in that moment —they had seemed to darken. 

The crease between Arley’s eyebrows deepened. Guy let out a breath of air.

“Just wondering, that’s all,” Guy answered but there was more to it than just simple curiosity and Arley knew it. As Guy turned  back to his french toast Arley simply peaked at him from the corner of her eye.

His back was hunched as he ate, Arley could see the vertebrate of his spine strain against his shirt as he ate; though, unlike her, Guy didn’t shovel his food down his gullet, he ate it like an actual human being and not a half starved animal who had managed to finally come across something. 

Arley knew Guy Gardner, he’d been her partner for just under two years and in that almost two year timespan she had quickly learned Guy was as stubborn as they came. 

It was a fact that in the Green Lantern Corps there was no one more stubborn than Kilowog, he’d earned the right to be afterall, but it was also a fact— at least, Arley thought so —that if there was anyone who could give the Bolvaxian a run for his money in bullheadedness it was Guy Gardner, 

Which was why, Arley knew  that he wasn’t going to expand anymore on his question, that ‘Just wondering’ was all she was going to get at the moment and that if she wanted answers she’d have to weasel it out of him, so, as she turned to her own plate and speared as many bits of french toast as she could onto her fork, Arley accepted she would have to wait and bide her time until Guy told her 

… 

It’s warm for September; Arley noticed as she and Guy entered the park with two beat up baseball mitts tucked under their arms, it was warm for September and everyone was looking at them. 

The park wasn’t crowded— it was afterall a Thursday morning —but just because it wasn’t crowded didn’t mean there weren’t people; there were still a handful of dog walkers cutting through the park, venders setting up for the rest of the day, old ladies feeding the pigeons, mothers and nannies and their young charges all running around the jungle gym and grass, and most of those people gapped at Arley and Guy as they passed by, the same way everyone else gaped at them as they passed by.

Arley tipped the ballcap she’d borrowed from Guy further over her head; she hated it when people stared. 

People stared as if that wasn’t really them, as if it couldn’t be because they were Green Lanterns— heroes to the public —and heroes weren’t supposed to be part of the world. Batman and Robin lurked in the night, Superman always flew away as soon as he could; no one ever saw Robin eating an ice cream or Superman drinking a coffee because they were symbols and symbols weren’t supposed to be part of the public spectical, they were just supposed to protect it.

The sector partners, with two battered baseball mitts tucked under their arms, walked onto a large open space of grass, trees lined one end and the concrete path people walked on lined the other; Arley fitted Guy’s old glove over her hand as she moved to get into position.

Back before the streets Arley could remember playing tag with past foster siblings whenever they’d get the chance to go to one of the few Gotham parks that were safe enough to venture into. Her and the Kents had a weekly game night; Clark was a beast at Clue. And there were days when she even found herself playing hide and go seek with Dick when she’d visit him and Bruce at Wayne Manor but for the life of her, Arley couldn’t remember the last time someone had played catch with her. 

She couldn’t remember if someone ever had. 

Guy had taught her the proper way to throw and catch; he’d said the only good memory of his father was when the man had taught him the same.

Guy stood twenty or so feet away from her, with a glowing green ball in his mitt and a bright smile on his face. Guy tossed the construct— the baseball —into the air with a laugh, his grin sharpened.

It wasn’t the same sort of sharp grin he wore in battle but it was something akin to it; it was daring and teasing, playful. 

This was the smile Arley liked best on Guy, he always looked so carefree with it; like nothing in the universe was wrong and for a moment they could pretend that they were normal people.

“Hey batter-batter swing!” Guy laughed as he threw the ball. Arley caught it easily with a laugh, 

“Dude we’re playing catch!” 

“I was just hoping you’d miss!” Guy called back with a laugh of his own; a dog walker had paused to look at the two, the pitbull he was walking had paused to sit by his stilled feet. The dog walker was young, blonde and had a wiry glasses perched upon the end of his nose

“I don’t miss Gramps!” Arley threw the ball back at Guy; the older Lantern threw his mitt up and caught the ball with ease. Guy threw the glowing ball from hand to hand as he took two steps back before throwing it at Arley.

Lunging to the side with her arm out and a large, toothy grin on her face, Arley caught the construct in the palm of her mitt. 

“You're so going to have to try harder than that if you want me to miss!” Arley told Guy, the redhead tipped his chin back and put his hands on his hips, his chest puffed out and for a moment he looked like Clark; Arley could practically see the bright red cape billowing behind him. 

Arley couldn’t see his eyes, but it wasn’t that he was too far away— the rings enhanced a Lanterns' senses  —but rather because of the bright smile on his face and yet Arley didn’t need to see his eyes to know that they were a bright, robin eggs blue. 

“That a challenge kiddo?” Guy called back out, flashing Arley the palm of his mitt; Arley felt her fingers form around the construct in her hands, kiddo, she wasn’t a kid.

She hadn’t been for a long time.

She sharpened her feral grin.

“You bet Gramps!” And then with her knuckles pale, she threw the ball. Guy, after several long strides back, had caught it; though not before stumbling and nearly falling. Flashing her a daring look Arley couldn’t help but feel happy.

For the first time in years Arley felt content; and so as the hours passed by and the sun rose through the sky, Arley and Guy continued to play a mindless game of catch, laughing as they tossed Guy’s construct around only to stop when they heard the chime of the local ice cream man. 

Mr. Softy was one thing, but Olinko’s was another. Olinko’s was a family owned truck that gave out cups of scooped ice cream and paper cones of flavored ices, it was also the only ice cream truck Guy swore by as he had been eating out of the Olinko’s family truck since he had been a small child. 

“Want some ice cream?” Guy asked as he got closer to Arley; Arley, as the construct disappeared from the palm of her mitt nodded.

“I really hope they have red velvet this time,” Arley said; she saw the white and blue ice cream truck pull over to the sidewalk, excited children and their parents began to form a line at the truck, college students and teenagers who had gone out to enjoy what could be the last warm day of the season moved to join the line.

Arley and Guy began to tuck their gloves back under their arms only to pause when their rings went off; Salakk, the Guardians scribe and their fellow Lantern appeared in a small, green holographic image hovering above their ring. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Guy grumbled, no longer smiling, “What the fuck have I said about overriding my ring to answer calls?” More than once had Salakk overridden Guy’s ring forcing him to answer a call in the middle of class or when on a date or simply just trying to live his life and go about his day. 

“Hey Salakk,” Arley said instead, not even blinking at Guy’s tight tone of voice. Where Guy tended to complain about Salakk interrupting his day Arley liked the scribe; they tended to chat before he told her what the universe needed of her that day. 

“Arley,” Salakk smiled, “Guy,” he said with a much more monotone voice, “You know as well as I do that you would never pick up if I didn’t.” Guy didn’t answer, he simply turned away from his ring; Salakk rolled his eyes, “You two are urgently being called to Oa, you have a mission.”

“Urgent?” Arley frowned, “What’s wrong?” 

Salakk shook his head, “I haven’t the faintest, all I know is that time is of the utmost importance.”

Usually it was Salakk telling them when and where to go; Arleys gut churned. It was never good when the  Council personally gave out a Lanterns mission.

“Right,” Arley breathed, “We’re on our way.” With that Salakk ended the call; Arley turned to Guy, a sad smile on her face, “Bet I get to the Hall before you do Gramps.” 

Guy’s frown picked up and his hand moved against the top of Arley’s head, “In your dreams kiddo.”

…

In the Central Meeting Hall, the place in which Lanterns were given their missions and briefed by the Council of Guardians who lead the Green Lantern Corps. Arley and Guy stood side by side on the platform beneath the Council of Guardians. The nine Guardians were all perched upon a dias high above where their Lanterns stood. 

Guy had his arms crossed over his chest and his head bent backwards, one of his legs was out in front of the other. He looked relaxed, carefree and completely at ease. Arley on the other hand looked stiff. Her heels had been clicked together and her spine was straight as her chin was tilted up— but not craned back like Guys —and her arms were crossed behind herself, not in front. 

She looked like the soldier she had been brought up to be. 

Salakk, the Guardians scribe, was tucked away in the corner, the Lanterns sixteen fingers poised and ready to begin typing at  a moments notice; Saalak quickly started to type as Guardian Basilus cleared his throat.

“Green Lantern Arley Gluck, Green Lantern Guy Gardner,” Ganthet started, “As of a few hours ago the Council was made aware that the Khundans in your sector—” Ganthet flourished his hand and a picture of Khund, a planet in Arley and Guys sector appeared, “—Had launched an armada of warships in the direction of Alaxos.” Ganthet’s hand flourished once more, this time the image of Alaxos appeared.

Guy shifted from foot to foot; Arley frowned. Alaxos was a planet made up of peace loving people whose technological achievements went to bettering the lives of the people not just on the planet but on the planets around them, not to warmongering and weapons advancements. The Alaxos didn't have any sort of intergalactic defense system. To launch any kind of attack against them would be tantamount to taking candy from a baby.

“How many ships?” Arley asked; the Alaxos’ people would be sitting ducks especially for a race like the Khundans. Khundans were violent the same way the sky on Earth was blue; they were bred for war, taught from infancy that there was nothing more important than winning a battle. To them there was nothing more important than dying in one.

Blood and violence, war and pain, those were the staples of Khundian culture. Stapels the Khundians reveled in.

“Just over one hundred; most of them look to be destroyers-Lanterns,” Appa Ali Apsa says gravely, “This isn’t a simple invasion, this is a display of power. It’s clear that they do not just wish to conquer Alaxos but destroy it, to show the universe that they can.”

Alaxos had just over one-point-three billion people on it; the Guardians were wrong, to destroy it wouldn’t just be a display of power, it would be an act of intergalactic terror. 

Dennap, the Guardian most vocal about how Earthlings should have never been allowed back into the Corps, waved his hand, the images of Khund and Alaxos disappear and instead are replaced by a thick asteroid field; there was a single, ever moving space cutting through the field. A barrage of green dots— ships —appear heading for the ever moving clearing in the asteroid field.

“You two are to stop the Khunads from even entering the Fett field by any means necessary,” Dennap ordered, “If even a single ship manages to get through the field they can make the jump to Alaxos and if that happens there’s no way to tell just how many innocent lives will be lost. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Arley said, her heart in her throat. Alaxos had just over one-point-three billion people on it but those ships— filled with Khundans or not —had people on them too; hundreds upon hundreds of people.

She meets Guy’s eyes from the corner of her own and they aren’t the same from the park; they were dark, the way that they had been that morning, guarded, like he had something to say trapped on the tip of tongue, unable to get out. 

Arley’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second; it wasn’t the time to argue— “Good,” Dennap said —before her attention was quickly pulled back to the Guardians.

“You two are dismissed.” 

Guy’s jaw clenched and for a second Arley was worried the red head was going to say something; tell the Council that he won’t do it, won’t stop the Khundans by any means necessary— Arley could remember the first time he took a life on the job; eight months prior a criminal they had been chasing on Scylla had taken a pregnant alien hostage and Guy had taken the shot with his ring when given an opening  —but he didn’t. Instead he spun around on his heel, and walked quickly out of the Central Meeting Room.  

Arley followed behind; sometimes the job meant saving the day by pulling a family of six out of a burning building and sometimes it meant rescuing an alien princess who had been kidnapped for ransom, but for the most part, being a Green Lantern didn’t mean doing good , it meant doing right by the people they were charged to protect.

Right by any means necessary. And Guy— at his core; at the end of the day —was a good guy. It was where he and Arley differed because she had never been good. 

…

Arley and Guy got to the mouth of the asteroid field before the ships did; though that wasn’t surprising, most of the ships in the armada were tankers— planet destroyers —and Lanterns, no matter the color, could fly at the speed of light. 

Arley could see the lights of the armada in the distance, the younger Lantern felt her muscles tension. 

They were light-years away from the closest sun. The space around Arley and Guy was dark, making the many— many—lights of the armada seem brighter than they really were. 

There were so many ships. So many people. 

Every battle she faced could be her last, she knew that and yet the impending threat of death wasn’t the thing that made her heart hammer in her chest. 

The thing that made Arleys palms sweaty wasn’t the thought of no longer being able to drop in to surprise Agent K with saucy wings while they spoke about intergalactic sports or people watching at whatever random subway station they’d decided to eat on made her breath hitch in her throat. Nor was it the prospect of never seeing the Kents again or even never being able to race across the Gotham rooftops with Bruce and Dick made the Lanterns' stomach twist. 

No, what made Arley’s hammering heart start to sink her chest was the weight of the ring on her finger. 

It was what she was going to do with it. 

It was the call she was always just about to make with it.

It never mattered who Arley faced in battle, her heart twisted at what she knew she was going to do. A life was a life and even for the betterment of the universe it pained her to take one.

But Arley had never cared about her own suffering; not in foster care and not in space did she think twice at what the weight of her ring meant for her. She would die doing her duty no matter how it chipped away at her.

Arley looked at Guy, her fingers curled into balls at her sides and Guy, the light in his eyes had gone dark and his jaw had been stiffly set since they had left the Meeting Hall; Arley sucked in a deep breath. 

Guy had wanted to say something to the Guardians, Arley had seen it; she could almost hear the no that had rested on the tip of his tongue, she uncurled her fingers and placed them against Guy’s gloved hand. 

“Stay here,” Arley said. 

The Guardians had to do what was best for the Universe, Lanterns had to do right by the people they protected no matter what that right was, it was their duty but partners— or so Bruce had told her —partners took care of each other. 

Guy was a good guy.

A good man.

He was better than Arley. He was going to outlast her and as his partner it was her job to do what was needed of her to keep him good, just a little bit longer.  

She could save him in a way no one had been there to save her. She would not let him carry the burden of their job alone.

“Excuse me?” Guy asked with a scoff in his voice and his hand twitching under Arley’s fingers.

“Stay here, I’m going to attack the armada—”

“—There is no Goddamn way I’m letting you go alone.” Guy said firmly.

“One of us should stay here and guard the field's entrance, you heard Guardian Dennap—” Arley’s voice stopped short when Guy laid his hands on her shoulders, his eyes were the same dark blue they had been earlier that morning.

“—I don’t give a shit what that floating blue space Smurf said, okay kid?” Guy told her, “We’re facing these assholes together. Got it?”

Partners were supposed to take care of each other and Guy—  as clear as day; or at least to Arley —was still struggling with what had happened several months back on Scylla.

This would— destroying these ships; killing the Khundian on them —would crush Guy. And partners took care of each other.

"I'm not letting you go out there alone." 

Arley looked at Guy, a small smile on her face as she did so. Ever since Guy— ever since he'd made it through boot camp and —was given his Lantern had done nothing but have Arleys back in a way no one else ever had.

He was the family she had always dreamed of having by her side. She never said it out loud to anyone before but where Carol was like an older sister to Arley, Guy made Arley wonder Is this what having a father is like in a way Kilowog never did. 

Guy made sure she ate right and they did her course work together and some days he brought her to the school she worked at and she got to play with kids just slightly younger then she actually was while Guy watched from the corner he and the other Gym teacher tended to stand.

"You're sure?" 

"Don't ask stupid questions kid." 

Arley's teeth poked out from behind her smile.

"My bad Gramps." Arley nodded, "Come on them, we should head them off farther off from the opening."

"That's what I was going to say," Guy said with a roguish smile. The light behind his eyes had dimmed. 

The space around them was dark but not dark enough for Arley to see how Guy's muscles had become taught and his jaw had clenched, all ready for their impending fight.

"Alright," Arley nodded. 

Like two shooting stars the pair zipped off towards the battalion of battleships and before the Khundians knew what was happening— before they could draw proper fire —Arley and Guy were hitting them. 

Arley attacked the first ship— a construct nearly half the size of the ship, sharper than any blade Arley could properly imagine —cut the destroyer in two. 

The explosion was almost delayed; the ship didn’t explode the minute Arley had sliced through it but instead as she had dove for the ship behind it. Arleys suit and ring protected her but she could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise from the heat of the explosion.  The sound of  return fire echoed through Arley's ears and she destroyed another ship.

Guy destroyed two more; Arley didn’t know how long they kept up the dance— was it after a dozen ships had been destroyed, or was it after more —before she heard Guy yell for her— she felt him push her out of the way sending her spiraling through space —less than half of the fleet had been destroyed. 

Arley watched in slow motion, as she tumbled through space, as Guy’s face went from panicked to peaceful; his skin paled and blood— his red, red blood —poured from his side and blue from the destroyers guns  flashed behind him. 

No. 

He’d taken a shot meant for her. Guy tumbled through space; he never tumbled before. He always flew. 

He was hurt. 

Nonononono. 

He'd been shot. 

“Guy!” Arley shrieked; her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. She had never sounded so panicked; so frightful. Arley wrapped a construct around her partner. 

People weren’t supposed to bleed like that; Arleys hands shook. 

The only time she ever saw that much blood was when she was standing over an enemy. 

Oh god no!

Her heart leapt into her throat as she joined him in the bubble; Guy was so much bigger than her and yet as she cradled the man his head seemed to fit just right in the crook of her arm. 

He'd been shot for her. He got hurt for her.

Enemy fire blasted the constructs dome. Arley could barely see the space outside of the construct, though that could have been from the tears pouring down Arley's face the same exact way the blood leaked out of Guy, from between her fingers despite the pressure she was putting on his wound. 

She didn’t care though; the Khundians were the last thing on her mind. 

“Guy-Guy wake up! Ring!” Arley ordered, her voice high pitched; filled with panic,  “Call the council!” 

Immediately Guardian Dennap was on her ring, “Green Lantern Arley?” 

“Sir!” Arley shouted shrilly. “Sir Guy is down! I need backup sent to my location, I need someone to get Guy out of the fire zone!” 

The construct shook with blaster fire. 

“A firefight is still going on Lantern?”

“Yes!” 

“Calm yourself Lantern!” Dennap snapped back and Arley sucked in a deep, deep breath of air, “Focus! Help is not coming and obviously the mission isn’t completed. Focus and do what is needed of you.”

“What do you mean help isn’t coming!” Arley snapped, her head started to spin. She had to have heard wrong. “Guy-there’s too much blood sir, I need help!” 

“There’s no one left on Oa without a mission, Lantern you’ll have to make do,” and with that the Guardian dispersed from view; her ring’s call ended. 

Arleys blood curdled. Guys breathing was thready. He was too pale. 

He— Guy, her partner and friend; her family —was going to die. 

Dennap was going to let him. 

She was going to lose someone else; she was going to have to watch him die. Feel him slip from between her fingers. 

Because of her, because she had failed and left herself open. 

Guy had taken the shot meant for her.

But Lanterns— the Corps —they, didn’t just leave men behind. They couldn’t. Family didn’t do that and the Corps was the closest thing to family so many Lanterns— not just Arley —had. And yet Dennap had told to make do. 

Guy's suit knitted itself together over his wound, cutting off and slowing down the blood flow. Blood though still began to seep through his uniform. 

Arley’s lip trembled. 

Arley was only going to get Guy the help he needed once the mission was over. She closed her eyes; she felt the construct shake— not splinter or break or even bend but shake from the force —with every blast from a Khundian weapon. 

Anger, fear; the emotions the Guardians constantly taught about overcoming rose up in Arley as she looked at the bright blue flashes of the blasters hitting her construct. 

Her construct wasn’t even splintering because she wanted nothing more than to keep Guy safe. 

The ring can do whatever you need it to. Kilowog had told her that the first time they’d met, So get creative kid or get dead. 

She needed the Khundian battalion gone.

Arley closed her eyes and steadied her breath. Anger ran hot in her face as Dennaps voice rang over and over in her ears; ice cold fear curled around her heart as Guys breathing became more and more shallow. 

She couldn’t lose him. She had to get creative. 

But how?

Light poured from her ring. Arley could feel the weapon practically vibrate on her finger as she focused; on what she wasn’t sure. 

Anger. Fear. Destruction. 

Death. 

Either the Khundians went or Guy did and Arley knew who she was going to see to the end.  

She had to think; all she could think about was how much she wanted the Khundians gone. Wiped off the face of the universe.

All she wanted was Guy safe, by any means necessary. 

The blaster fire stopped only seconds before dozens of great balls of fire— explosions that had just been the ships —encapsulated the construct. Arley gathered Guy in her arms and brought him closer to her. 

“It’s going to be okay just hang in there Guy, I’ve got you.” Please, please, don't leave me too.

…

Hours later, still covered in soot from the burning ships she had destroyed and blood— Guy’s blood —Arley is found in the Green Lantern Corps medical-bay, her hand intertwined with Guys as he laid idly in the bed Medphyll, the Lantern in charge of the medical bay, had assigned him too.

A coma, Guy was in a coma.  

It was why Kilowog had found her in the medbay, still covered in blood, teary eyed and praying— to whom Arley didn’t know; someone had to be listening though, someone had to hear her pleas —instead of in her tiny, alien, apartment cleaning herself up.

“Kid,” Kilowog said softly; he had been the one to train Guy just as he had trained her , “You have to go to the Hall, the Guardians need a debriefing.” 

“I don’t care,” Arley said, her voice was scratchy and raw, “They can wait.” Dennaps Make do echoed through her head the same way the sizzling of the ships did, “I’m not leaving Guy to wake up alone.” 

Medphyll, in such a gentle voice, had explained to Arley that Guy could maybe wake up in a few weeks, once his wound was nice and healed, or perhaps never as he had lost enough blood to very nearly kill him. Medphyll had said that even if Guy did wake up that he hadn’t gotten enough oxygen to his brain for so long, he might not be the same man who Arley knew. 

But what did he know, he wasn’t human, Guy could wake up. He would— you couldn’t keep a Good Guy down after all —be fine.

People woke up from coma’s all the time; Dr. Foreman  told her that enough whenever she saw her mother.

He had to be. The universe couldn’t take him too; she couldn’t be alone— not at her core, not in a way Guy never waking up would leave her alone —not again. 

Arley's hands shook at the sides. 

“Arley,” Kilowog said gently, “The jobs not done, you need to tell the Council—“

“—Fuck them!” Arley exploded. Medphyll, who had restocking bandages and bacta packs jumped at Arleys booming voice, “Fuck the Council, they-they don’t care! We fight and die and kill for them and none of them care! Kilowog, Guy was hurt and Dennap couldn’t have cared less.”

Arley had always revered the Council with the same kind of blind loyalty that’d once had priestesses back on Earth up and ready to slit their own throats as an offering to their gods but now, next to Guys bedside, she was sure she could rip Dennap apart with her bare hands, no ring needed. 

Make do. Make do. Make do.

“It’s not their job to.” Kilowogs voice was still soft; his hand was on Arleys shoulder. “And even if it were, honestly kid, I don’t think they can.”

“It’s fucked,” Arley hissed, her eyes watering, tears streaked down her face. 

“Yeah it is but you have to remember the Guardians have been around forever, since the start of all of this. How many Lanterns have they lost since then?”

Trillion's

The Corps had been around before life on most planets had started. The rings had been forged when the molten lava that formed the Earth's crust hadn’t even started to cool. 

When Arley didn’t answer, Kilowog continued on, “How many innocent lives would have been lost if they hadn’t used those Lanterns the way they did. Don’t you remember what I told you in boot camp?”

“You told me a lot of things?”

Kilowogs chuckle was dry and humorless, his thumb rubbed her shoulder, “The Guardians have to do best by the universe, we have to do right, the people we protect will be good and sometimes that means the Guardians and the Council will make terrible decisions for us if it means the rest of the universe—“

“—But how was leaving Guy out to dry best for anyone?” Arley hissed. “How was letting him almost die-I needed someone to bring him back I didn’t ask to leave my post Serg, I asked for help saving him not abandoning my mission.”

Kilowogs mouth twisted, Arley saw the light in his eyes flare; she knew the sergeant, he loved his fellow corps members. 

“I know kid, I-I asked the same thing.” 

“You?” He had argued back against the Guardians? He was the one urging her to go to the Hall. 

He nodded, “You didn’t notice when you got to the Hall this morning but Oa was kind of empty today. The universe went crazy today kid. Every Lantern had their own to deal with. Sending a Lantern to you meant someone else getting hurt.”

Arleys gut churned. Realistically she knew that; realistically she knew that if the Guardians had granted her help others would suffer and they would fail at their duty. She was going to be sick because next to Guy, Arley didn't care. Guy was her best friend, the only person in the world that knew her  and he might never wake from his coma. 

Because of her. It was all her fault; if she had even been a fraction of a better Lantern then she already was then Guy wouldn’t be in the bed next to her comatose. 

“I wasn’t asking for an army, one person-just someone on the honor guard—“

“—The honor guard is city bound for a reason.” Arley knew that, she knew Oa held secrets— weapons —that could destroy the universe if they got out but sitting in the med-bay chair, covered in Guy's blood, Arley didn’t care. 

Someone— anyone —could have helped, Arley was sure not every emergency in the universe was life ending. Someone could have helped.

“Kid,” Kilowog said softly, “Being a Lantern hurts. It’s nothing but, except when it is. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” Arley said heavily; she knew her drill sergeant was right. She knew that the Corps and the life of a corpsman was bloody and achy and hurt filled, she’d known that since she was nine years old and in an asteroid field with Amon Surr but Arley didn’t care what she knew because Guy was hurt. His blood covered her chest and arms and matted the ends of her hair. 

“You’ll stay with him?” Arley asked unmoving, “I don’t want him alone.” 

“I won’t leave until you relieve me,” Kilowog swore. 

Arley didn’t reply verbally, she just nodded only to pause in getting up when Kilowog caught her wrist. 

“Keep your head down and your mouth shut in there kid, no matter what they said it’s Yes sir.” Because the Council was prideful ; Arley had heard other Lanterns say it before. Guy had. She’d never been in a position where the Council had lorded their fragile pride over her; at least not before. 

“Yes sir.” And then she was off, to the Hall in the center of Oa.

Eyes followed her every movement; from med-bay to Hall at least one Lanterns eyes were on her. 

Arley wondered if they watched her waiting for her to fall apart; if they expected her to break down in tears the way she had in the asteroid field or if they were simply horrified. Whether they were horrified at what had happened to Guy or the face that she had exploded hundreds of ships all with a thought— a twitch —she didn’t know.

Arley touched down in the wide open doorway of the Hall; Salakk stood just beyond the door entryway waiting for her. His many arms were folded in front of himself. 

“Arley,” he said gently, quietly. 

“Save it, it wasn’t you who said it.”

“I recorded it. You asked—“ Salakk cut himself off, his eyes closed and his shoulders shook. The alien scribe was crying. “—Begged for help and all I could do was record what you said.”

Arley felt a sob rattle the inside of her chest, she blinked away the tears and instead set her hand on top of one of Salakk's many wrists. 

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t do anything.”

“I know,” the scribe hissed. His hands fisted against his body. 

“Come on then,” Arley whispered, she led the scribe into the meeting room. The Guardians on the Council peered down at her, Arley didn’t look up at them as she stood atop of the platform that the Guardians hovered over. 

She looked down, with her heels clicked together and her hands behind her back Arley looked at her feet rather than Guardian Dennap lest she explode him by accident. 

Those ships had been on purpose; she had got creative but Arley had known what Kilowog meant. Get creative with a construct, not go all Carrie White on the battlefield. 

Somehow it felt like she had failed there as well. Being a soldier was the one thing she’d been good at and somehow Arley felt like she had fucked that up as well. 

“Lantern Arley Gluck,” Guardian Scar announced once Salakk was back in his usual seat. The multi-armed alien’s fingers flew with halfhearted effort as the Guardian spoke. “Despite major setbacks—“ Arley held back the full body twitch that nearly wracked her body; Guy was more than a setback. “—Good job.”

Arley didn’t reply. She didn’t look. 

Guys blood was on her feet; matted hair dangled into Arley's peripheral. Arley half wondered what she looked like to those around her; covered in her partners blood.

“Lantern Arley,” Ganthet, another Guardian, called out, “How did you manage to get Lantern Guy out of harm's way and still manage to stop a fleet of destroyers?”

“I willed it, sir,” Arley answered through near-closed lips. “I thought it and the ring did it.”

The ring hadn’t saved Guy but it had killed— she had killed, the ring was just simply a weapon —well over a hundred thousand alien warriors and such in a minute but it still had limits. 

“You thought of the destruction of the Khundian warships and it happened?” Ali-Ali-Appsa sounded aghast. Like he couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes sir.”

“What construct did you think of? An arrow?”

“An arrow wouldn’t spear all the ships at once,” Scar shook her head. “What construct did you use to stop the ships Lantern Arley?” 

“No construction ma’am.”

“What?” Chatter broke out amongst the Council. “You’re telling me you used the ring to simply blow multiple ships up?” 

“Yes ma’am.” The chatter got louder. 

“How?” Came from several Guardians. 

“It’s fascinating!” Ganthet cooed; “The rings next step and the Morningstar figured it out.” The title Ganthet so freely used was what finally got the girl's head to snap upwards. 

Morningstar was a title used for the best; the Lanterns that ended the worst battles before the worst ever came about almost like the morning star rising up in the horizon signaling the end to dark war. 

Avra had been the first. There had only been a handful of others since him. Not even Hal Jordan was dubbed with the title and he was the best Lantern to sling the ring since Avra himself

It was an honor to be dubbed such; or at least it was supposed to be. All Arley had ever wanted was to be enough in the Corps; all she wanted was to prove herself and yet the title Morningstar felt hollow without Guy by her side.

Arley looked up at the Guardians, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt herself shaking where she stood. 

“The what?” Arley whispered in disbelief. Guardians whispered to one another at Ganthet's declaration. 

Ganthet smiled down at her; “Morningstar, Lantern—“

“—Don’t you think we should decide as a unit before bestowing this title on the human?” Dennap snarked darkly in Ganthets direction. 

Red hot, all consuming rage washed over Arley at the sound of Dennap's voice.  

“No I don’t,” Ganthet said dismissively, “Any Lantern that can single handedly take out a battalion of Khundian ships with a single willful thought should be dubbed a Morningstar.”

“All in favor,” Guardian Scar called out, “Of dubbing the sector Lantern Arley Gluck, Morningstar.” Nearly a dozen blue hands— the majority of the room —went up. 

Arley's knees wobbled. 

To be called Morningstar was an honor. Any Lantern worth their salt wanted to be called so— just yesterday Arley had wanted to be —and yet with Guy's blood all over her and the blood of thousands on her hands Arley didn’t feel honored. 

She felt disgusted. With herself, with the Guardians, with the universe she was set to defend. 

She felt monstrous. At everything she had done and would do.

Her head hung as the Guardians clapped; “Congratulations Lantern, our first Morningstar in years.” 

Yeah, Arley mused to herself humorless, Congrats to me.

“Thank you sirs.”

…

Arley didn’t change after she left the Meeting Hall, she didn’t go to her tiny apartment and shower nor did she find herself back at Guy’s bedside, instead she found herself in Gotham, still covered in soot and blood, standing in front of Clark and Bruce, both of whom— once she had managed to choke out the blood was Guys —looked at her with concern. 

She could still hear the sizzling of ships over the car horns and the bustling of the city. With red rimmed eyes Arley tore her eyes away from the bright cityscape to look at Clark and Bruce, her hands shoved deeply into the pockets of her uniform. 

“I need a favor,” Arley said quietly, “I-Carol and my mom,” she said instead, “When I’m gone. Can you two look after them? Check in, make sure she’s okay? My mom, more so than Carol but both?”

Carol could take care of herself, she was the actual definition of girl boss but whenever she thought Arley— or anyone really —wasn't looking she always looked so sad. So lonely. And after everything she'd done for Arley the Lantern's gut churned at the thought of hurting someone else she cared for.

It was her fault Guy was in the medical bed; her fault Guy was hurt, 

Bruce tipped his chin up, Clarks brows furrowed together.

“Gone?” Clark asked.

“Dead,” Arley clarified simply; like her death would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

It  wouldn’t. No one would miss her the way she missed Guy. Her mother wouldn't notice she was gone but Carol would and she already seemed so alone. 

“De-Arley you aren’t going to die anytime soon,” Clark said, he took three steps forward and Arley didn’t bother to take a single step back, instead she just turned to look out at the city once more. 

Would this be where she was buried, or would she be buried amongst her fallen brethren, on Oa? 

Would there even be a body to bury? 

She had carried Guy back to Oa but who would carry her? Would anyone tell Brice and Clark and Carol or would the Lantern that followed in her wake just show up and shrug their shoulders unknowing?

She turned back to Clark and Bruce; Clark’s lips had twisted themselves into a deep frown, his eyes shone with worry and Arley felt the leaden weight she had grown accustomed to living with press down on her.

“Yeah Clark, I am,” Arley said with a half-snarl, “Lanterns we don’t live—” her tongue darted out and swept along her lips, she shrugged, the words stuck in her throat— Live long lives —caught between the wall of her esophagus and the ball that had formed from her unshed tears.  

I’m on borrowed time, didn’t come out either.

“—Look, it’s not any of your business, you’re not Corpsmen, you two don’t really need to know about that, it’s just, my mom and Carol, I just-I just need to know they’re going to be okay after I’m gone. Alright?” Arley looked behind Clark to Bruce who moved from his original place to one only a few steps behind the newly dubbed Man of Steel. 

Clark opened his mouth— his eyes had become hard; his chest had swelled with breath like he was going to argue —only to close when Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder. Clark turned to look at him,

“We promise,” the million heir said to Arley, “We’ll look after them.”

“Bruce,” Clark hissed; Arley saw Bruce’s fingers flex against the aliens shoulder as he blatantly ignored him. 

Arley nodded, she felt her feet lift off the rooftop, “Thank you,” and then with that, and one last look over the Gotham skyline she was gone, back, on her way, to Oa. 

Back to her partner's bedside.

Foreman, after all, said coma patients could hear. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight — Sixteen Candles and a Veil

1995; sixteen

“Pick me.”

Ever since she got her ring the world— Earth that was —never let Arleys birthday pass quietly. 

The Lantern could remember back when she was lucky to get a call from her social worker wishing her a “ Good luck ” on yet another year lived because in Gotham and at seven, she needed the luck more than she needed a well wishing.  

At sixteen though, with half her life slinging constructs, Arley seemed to struggle less with having her birthday acknowledged and more with getting an actual heartfelt Happy Birthday. 

Guy was still comatose, the only change since he had saved Arleys life was that he had been moved from Oa to the best hospital in Baltimore so that his sister Angela could visit him when she wanted to. She wouldn’t; but she could.  

Her mother was deteriorating. Doctor Forman and his team had started preparing Arley for the worst, not that she was acknowledging the doctors. Despite her mother having not been part of her life in well over a decade and yet Arley couldn’t imagine having to let her go. To her, her mother symbolized hope. If Arley could fight her way out of the gutter and through the trenches of wars on planets sciences back home couldn’t yet see, then her mother could wake up one day.

Agent K had retired and Chief Zed had died; pancreatic cancer. He’d gone so quick Arley hadn’t been able to say goodbye. Agent K’s partner J was cool but he and Arley didn’t hang out— They didn’t get food, go bowling, sit on the edge of the MetLife building and people watch —the way she and K had.

Sure Clark and his parents and Bruce and Dick— and Alfred —had all made sure to call her in the early morning of her Sweet Sixteenth because in Dick Grayson words “ You’re just like B, Arley, all work and no play”, so it was better to get the well wishing done early before she had to zip across the sector to save a life. And sure Carol— who had seemingly stopped speaking to Arley after her and Hal’s last fight via a communication device Tomar Ty had built —had even left a card for Arley but that was as far as it went. 

For all seven people who wished her a Happy Birthday there were another seven billion other people exploiting it.

News organizations around the world seemed to wake up the globe with balloons in her name and streamers with her face. Businesses and cities she saved had Darling Deals— because she had been dubbed the planets Darling Hero as if that wasn’t condescending; if anyone on Earth had an actual inkling of what being a Lantern was like they wouldn’t be calling her, the Morningstar, a Darling —and on her birthday Mrs. Smith from Tulsa obviously deserved a new toaster half off. 

Which is why Arley found herself in space, one more than just a couple of sectors over flying around; alone and hiding from the world.

When Arley had been younger she had wanted someone to celebrate her birthday with. She had wanted her mother; she hadn’t wanted a party or cake, as a child all Arley dreamed about every October was What if I wasn’t alone this year?

Guy hadn’t let her be alone; for her last birthday Guy had bought her an Ice Cream cake and constructed a glowing green birthday hat onto Bruce’s Batman cowl when they’d all— Dickie and Alfred and Clark and Agents K and J all —sung a horrible rendition of happy birthday. 

But that was when she’d turned fifteen; before Guy had nearly died for her. Before the Corps had dubbed her Morningstar. 

Arley scowled at the thought of the title. Everything had changed since Ganthet had given her moniker; Lanterns Arley hadn’t thought she could be closer to bowed their heads in respect, called her ma’am and looked to her the way they looked to Kilowog and Laira, the best of the Corps. 

Like Dulok, the Lantern of the sector she had zipped off too, who, when he saw her, should’ve questioned why she was in his sector, just nodded his head in passing at her. And Kilowog and Laira had stopped looking at her the way they had and instead tilted their heads up when speaking to her the way they did with the Guardians; like she was someone to be respected . 

There was them and her; an invisible wall— ranking and conduct, everything that helped mold soldiers from men —separating her from her fellow corpsmen. 

Isolating her. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Arley set down on a planet; on the outskirts of the largest visible city— from space it had been a large round, red dust bowl of a planet with little visible water but various spread out trails of light —and frowned. 

Dulok, a seasoned and venerated Lantern should have questioned her, he should have taken an attitude with her when she didn’t have an actual answer on why she wasn’t in her own sector outside of skeeving off duty . But he didn’t; because the Corps wasn’t just her family anymore. 

Even they had been taken from her. 

Arley walked; the sky was yellow and the building though intricate and beautiful all seemed to be one piece of architecture sprouting out from the ground. In all honesty the buildings reminded Arley of the pueblo homes she would see in New Mexico or Arizona. 

People littered the streets in droves. They all resembled one another in the way all homogeneous alien species did. The aliens that presented closest to human men were broad and bald with pinkened skin and dark eyes with no sclera and markings that trailed up from their jaws and around their eyes, acting almost as eyebrows. Arley couldn’t tell if they were natural birth marks or tattoos everyone got as even the female presenting aliens had them. The aliens that presented more closely to women didn’t look so much more different from the men except that they had hair, and much fuller figures. 

The closer Arley looked at the aliens around her— and the closer they looked at her and her uniform —the more Arley saw the resemblance to the planet's species and the Lantern whose sector she was in, Dulok.

Confetti flew through the air, music flowed out of open windows. People were cheering off in the distance.

“Ma’am?” Arley asked an alien on the street corner. She was young with long dark hair nearly reaching her ankles. The alien's eyes widened at the sight of Arley and being not in her own sector, Arley's skin didn’t crawl the way it usually did when people gave her that wide-eyed, unblinking, hero worshiping look because she knew the look of surprise was more for what she was than who.

“Yes m’Lady?” Once upon a time Arley would have waved the title away and introduced herself but everyone off Earth knew what her name was synonymous for and for as long as she could, Arley would not be the Morningstar.

“What’s with all the cheering?”

“Oh,” the alien woman beamed, “Our Princess is being coronated today and her husband by the end of the week-our king will make sure of it.”

Arleys brows quirked up; “Why wouldn’t the Princess’ husband-prince I assume, be crowned with her?” She loved learning about different cultures and why they did things the way they did.

“Well  in the most normal of circumstances they would be but Princess Iolande is yet to be married and a Queen cannot rule without a King by her side.”

Arley felt her brows slip downwards; “Oh. How long have the Princess and her intended been betrothed?” Arley had seen a half dozen arranged marriages through her years as a Lantern, and she could only recall two of which the bride was happy to walk down the aisle. 

“No time at all, no one has yet had a chance to win the Princess’ hand, but the King has called all warriors fit to protect the Princess and by the end of the week one of them will be picked to be our next King.”

That’s insane, Arley wanted to say. To allow someone to rule by might was crazy but Arley knew her place. She stuffed her hands deep in her pockets. 

A Lantern was supposed to protect, not meddle in stately affairs they weren’t asked to. Good Lanterns did what they were told. 

She didn’t have to think hard to feel Guy’s blood slipping between her fingers. She didn’t have to close her eyes to see the explosions of the Khundian ships in her mind.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes m’lady?”

“Where’s the castle?”

…

Arley, after having set off in the direction of the castle, had no trouble finding her way not just to it, but inside of it. How could she when the masses, as soon as they caught sight of her  insignia, pushed her forward and forward— Trumpets had blared when she’d gotten to the castle's golden doors —until she ended up at the feet of the King.

Arley stood at the foot of a grand staircase where a man— a King —sat on a large, golden throne. Arley hadn’t meant to end up in front of the King, when she had left the alien woman  and headed for the castle Arley had no plan in mind, except to look around, maybe watch a coronation, maybe talk to the Princess and make sure she was okay with being married by the end of the week.

Not that it would matter of course, if the King didn’t ask her to, she could do nothing.

Even if the Princess was beautiful.

Two other aliens, a beautiful, pink skinned alien with dark eyes and dark lips— the Princess, the kind they wrote sonnets that echoed throughout history about —and a smaller, twitchy alien, both dressed in beautiful silver clothing stood behind the King. Like him they both wore crowns of their own.

Arley’s eyes kept fluttering between the King and Princess; she was beautiful. Arley felt her throat dry.

“You are not my sectors’ Green Lantern,” the king observed.

“I am not sir. King of Bestross’ I call sector two-eight-one-four my home.” This was sector one-four-one-seven.

“Why are you here Lantern?” 

“I am sightseeing your majesty and I happened upon your beautiful daughter's coronation.” Arley looked at the Princess. “I can see why many warriors have come to claim her hand.”

“And I assume that’s why you’re here are you not?” The King asked gruffly, “You want my daughter's hand for your own.” That was less a question and far more a statement. 

Arley licked her lips. 

Diplomacy was not something they taught in the Corps, it was one of those learn-by-doing, on-the-job-training things Lanterns had to pick up even though a large part of their jobs was diplomacy.

“I could never, your highness, not without the Princess’ allowance, for I am an outsider as much as I am a Lantern.”

“Then perhaps I should give it,” the Princess spoke up from her spot behind her father. “A Lantern, no matter from where, would make a mighty King.”

“I could never be a King,” Arley said earnestly.

“But you are a warrior, one of the mightest, are you not?” The twitchy little Prince asked excitedly. “You’re a Lantern so you must be, so you can be King.”

“Maybe I should speak to the Princess?” Arley said, “If it’s her hand that I’m to seek, I would like to know her.”

“Why?” The King asked, “She’d be your wife, not an advisor or comrade?” 

Arley watched as the Princess’ face tightened and twisted before schooling it and smoothing it out. The Princess fisted the fabric at the front of her dress and Arley’s heart twisted.

“In my culture to marry is something sacred, I could never take someone as my wife that I had never spoken to.”

“Very well,” the King waved, “The Lantern can speak to the Princess in the library, I will have your answer by sunset.”

“Thank you sire,” Arley bowed deeply as the Princess descended the mountainous staircase. The Prince trailed after her, Arley almost smiled at the younger alien only to stop when the King leaned forward.

“Ragnar,” The King hissed, “Stay.”

“But Father, I have so many questions for the Lantern.”

“You will stay, boy.” The Prince Ragnar twitched under his fathers order and though he looked back over his shoulder at Arley he scampered back up the stairs just as his sister reached the bottom.

Arley offered the Princess her hand; the Princess took it. “This way.” And Arley followed, marveling at the Princess as they walked from the throne room to where the library would be.

The Princess was taller than Arley by a head, her jaw was square and nose, though wide at the bridge, round and almost button-like. She, like the rest of her race had no sclera and like every other female-presenting alien Arley had come access, her hair was incredibly long. Though unlike the other female-presenting aliens Arley had come across, the Princess’ hair was half up; her hair had an intricate series of braids, all woven with threads of silver.

Arley didn’t stop looking at the Princess until they reached the library and Arley only knew she and the Princess had reached it because no matter where in the universe you went the smell of old books always stayed the same.

Arley, though, did not drop the Princess’ hand. Instead she bowed deeply and brought the Princess’ knuckles up to her lips.

“My name is Arley, your highness.” The Princess smiled, her pink cheeks dark red and Arley felt something— something she couldn’t quite name but made her pulse quicken — bloom in her chest at the sight. 

“I am Princess Iolande.” 

“That is a beautiful name m’Lady,” Arley said lowly, still bowing. She looked up at the Princess through her lashes and as she did so, Arley couldn’t help but think of how beautiful the Princess was. 

“Thank you.” Arley straightened out, reluctantly she took her hand back from the Princess. She folded them behind her as they continued further into the library. “Now why are you Green Lantern Arley, forgive me if I do not believe it is to explore,” Iolande said. “Have you come to claim my hand? Are you playing coy with my father?”

“No,” Arley said automatically, “I mean I am here for you, but not for your hand.”

“Then what?” Iolande’s voice was guarded, her arms crossed themselves over her chest. Arley pointed did not stare at the Princess' chest.

“Your peace of mind, I was told you’d be married by the end of the week to someone you didn’t know. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You came to make sure I was okay with doing my duty?” Iolande asked slowly. Arley could see the corners of Iolande’s lips turn upwards.

“Yes.”

“What choice do I have but to be, but okay with it oh mighty Lantern?”

“Arley is just fine, Princess. Please.” Please don’t know who I am, please don’t know what Arley is synonyms for nowadays. 

“If Arley is just fine, Iolande is as well.” Iolande led Arley towards the back of the library where Arley saw a couch. When Arley sat next to the Princess their knees brushed against one another. 

“Now I ask again, you’ve come to my planet, my home, from an unimaginable distance, to make sure I am okay with doing the very thing I was born to do?” 

No. There was more to the story. “Sort of, yeah.” 

The last wedding she and Guy had seen had led to the Princess taking her own life rather than walking down the aisle. Guy had held her as she died and Arley tried— failed —to apply life saving measures. 

“Why?”

Guy had raged— the Queen had sobbed so loudly over her lost child but the King and Groom-That-Would-Never-Be and their advisors in the room had just muttered about broken treaties and looming war —nearly causing an intergalactic incident. And he would have if Arley, covered in the blood of a girl no older than herself, hadn’t tugged him back and sent him home.

Their mission hadn’t been to admonish the ruling family; they had come to watch a wedding, and make sure a union was made and they had failed. The Guardians had made that perfectly clear to Arley when she gave in her post-mission report.  

“Why not?” Arley asked, “Everyday Dulok and I and the other corpsmen, we wake up and risk our lives so that the people of our sectors have the power to exercise their free will. There’s no war looming, nothing stopping you from saying no to this marriage.”

“Nothing except the throne,” Iolande replied, “My people would never accept me without a king. They didn't accept my mother or her mother, they will not accept me on the throne unless I have a husband besides me.”

“Why though?” 

“They don’t think I’m strong enough,” Iolande said scornfully. Arley watched as her face twisted, “I can bear my planet's future and I can govern the people-but should war arise I am not strong enough to protect my people.”

“Your people really only care for war?” Arley asked. The ball in her throat bobbed, Guy flashed before her mind as she remembered the Khundians and their battleships and perhaps the worst day of her life. 

“They care for safety, Arley. Our planet used to be prosperous, it used to be full of life-back then there were so many of my people and animals and planet-life.” It wasn’t like that anymore; Arley had been able to tell the moment she saw the red planet, “Back then we tried not to fight, adversity was something we weren’t ready for and we nearly paid for it with extermination.”

“But now there’s the Corps—”

“—The Corps was there when the fall happened, Green Lantern. They came too late, watched as my people and planet burned because they failed,” the Princess said severely. “The only way to ensure our safety is by doing it ourselves.”

“But why through men?” Arley wondered. Every Lanterns ring had a universal translator inside of it, it was how she and her fellow Corpsmen were able to do their jobs; Arley, for a maybe, a second-and-a-half, wondered what the word man translated to in the Princess’ language. 

“Because we don’t need them,” the Princess said softly. “I had eight other brothers aside from Ragnar, they’re all dead.”

Horror filled Arley, “What? What happened?” She asked aghast.

Iolande shrugged. “Accidents, illness-Ryuk was killed in a duel only a few moons ago and Meletus less than that..”

“I-maybe it’s the human in me, but I don’t understand,” Arley confessed.

Iolande smiled kindly at Arley. “A man can spread his seed, so to speak, anywhere, and no one is the wiser but when a woman gives birth, you know. You know that child is of her bloodline.”

“Oh,” Arley nodded. “Okay, I get that.” Once again, Sort of.

“Now,” Iolande said “I know you said that you were just here to make sure I was okay with doing my duty but are you sure you’re not here for my hand?”

Arley thought of it for a moment. Her life— however many years she had left —spent with a beautiful Princess who seemed kind and smart and sweet; who seemed to love her people and appreciate her station.

“I live in a different sector, Iolande. Just like you have a duty to your people, I have a duty to them-I would never be around,” Arley said after a moment. Iolande took her hand in hers. They were warm and soft. They were the kind of softness that showed the Princess had never done an ounce of hard work in her life and yet, Arley marveled at the Princess’ hands.  

“Would it be so terrible of me to say that is why I’m asking you to vye for my hand Arley?”

A laugh Arley couldn't help to stop, bubbled up and escaped. “What?”

“You are strong-the strongest, most talented, Lantern the Corps has at the moment so my father would never deny you.” Arley's heart seized; the Princess hadn’t blinked when she’d introduced herself. “There would be no more fanfare, if you asked right now we would be wedded tonight—”

“—Iolande, Princess, you don’t me—”

“—I know,” Iolande cut in, “That you are the only person in the universe to ask if this marriage was something I want. You are strong, yes but you are also kind and the heart of any man out there, waiting to fight for my hand and win it by right of conquest will pale to yours in comparison. I know it.” 

“I can’t give you and heir Iolande,” Arley said, her grip around the Princess’ hands tightened. “Our biology would never allow for it.”

“Then that’s a bridge we can cross when we get to it, Arley.”

“You don’t know me and-and I don’t know you.” A voice in the back of Arley’s mind, quietly added on, Even though I want to . “I can’t marry someone I don’t know.”

“That’s not a no.” Arley’s lips pressed together. “All these excuses and you haven’t, outright said no.”

“How can I?” Arley asked. The Princess was beautiful and even with the most powerful weapon dorning her finger, there was no force imaginable that could stop the will of a beautiful woman. And Arley, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“I like steer riding,” Iolande smiled.

“What?”

“You said you can’t marry me because you don’t know me, so—” Arley watched as Iolande’s honeyed smile became sharp and coy. Arley’s throat tightened the same way it would on the battlefield; the thrill that flooded her sense’s before battle creeped up on the Lantern. “—Get to know me.”

“You’re sure?” Arley asked.

Iolande didn’t answer, at least not verbally. Instead the Princess leaned over, their interlooped hands in Arleys lap and kissed the Lantern softly. Arley’s eyes fluttered shut and she felt the Princess’ warm breath fan across her face as she exhaled into the kiss.

Her first kiss. 

Arley leaned back, throat tight and dry, her lungs devoid of air but her heart hammering in her chest. 

“Today’s my birthday,” Arley said in a quiet, raspy voice, “That’s something about me.”

Iolande beamed. 

“Happy Birthday Arley.” And for the first time the day— as Arley leaned in and pressed another kiss to the Princess’ lips —she beamed at the sentiment. 

…

Green Lanterns on average only lived a handful of years, if they got lucky or knew what they were doing. By sixteen, months after her birthday, around the anniversary of not when she’d passed boot camp and went from White Circle to Lantern, but when she’d been chosen by her ring, Arley had lived almost double the norm.

Dressed in a heavy, gleaming suit of bronze-like armor and with the King of Betross’s sword on her hip, Arley leaned half out the window of the suite she’d been given. She had a cape; when she had looked at herself in one of the room's floor length mirrors Arley couldn't help but marvel at how regal she looked. 

In the nine weeks since her birthday, amongst the dozen of shared kisses and thrice as many meetings on Betross and Oa and Earth, all with one council member or government official or another, Arley and Iolande, had come to an understanding. 

If Iolande could look past her ring and see Arley and take her as is— bloody and broken and monstrous, with one foot in the grave because for as long as she had already lived one day, Arley knew, she would die —then Arley would be Iolande’s King, securing her reign and throne. When it came time they would figure out how to secure Iolande’s line. 

Arley wasn’t sure she could love Iolande. She was smart and bright, sarcastic and witty and beautiful. Every time they kissed amongst the books in the library— whenever Ragnar or one of Iolande’s attendings would look away —Arley’s head spun and her heart beat like nobody's business. 

She knew she didn’t love Iolande. And she knew the Princess felt the same. They were friends, they liked each other but they weren’t lovers in the sense that they burned for one another and the few hours between readying themselves and their vows were agonizing. 

Maybe they would be more one day but on the day of their wedding, they were friends. 

Arley shut her eyes against the setting sun. There was no one in her chambers with her; the large room seemed to double in size as the Lantern breathed. Dulok, when he had come and went, had made an off-handed comment about how packed Iolande’s room was as she readied herself for the ceremony.

Her mother was getting worse, barely there-about to go. Guy hadn’t woken up. Arley never thought about marriage when she was given her ring, or even before that. She always knew she was to die young and yet something pulled painfully inside of her as reality dawned upon her. She would be married and crowned on an alien planet with only her fellow Corpsmen Dulok by her side as Kilowog and Laira and Arisa— the Corpsmen she was closest to —all had their own duties to commit to. 

Vox, a fellow Lantern, was doing her a solid favor by watching and protecting her sector as she got married.

Arley wondered what her mother would say; her mother was her age when she’d run away into the streets with her father, pregnant and in love. Her father was a week shy of their court date to elope when he’d been murdered. 

Arley knew what Guy would say. He’d ask if she was sure, and offer to create a distraction if she wasn’t in order to ferry her out and off Betrosses. 

Clark and Bruce hadn’t said anything about the impending nuptials; Arley had explained what was going on— that she was marrying a friend for a crown —and instead clasped her on her shoulder and asked if they would ever get to meet Iolande. 

Dick had asked if she was cute and would declare that under no circumstances would he call Arley “Your highness.” 

Carol, who still wasn’t speaking to Arley because of Hal and his bullshit across the universe, was the only one who gave Arley a level look and asked if she was sure. 

Like she, tiny, human— powerless —Carol Ferris could stop a wedding one sector over if Arley had gotten in over her head. 

Arley, despite the space between them, wished Carol was there with her. 

Arley straightened at the sound of a knock, signaling her to be ready. She wished someone was. 

Arley rolled her shoulders back. Her heart clenched. Love had never been in the cards for her; Arley was sure it never would be. 

She wished for anyone, really. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine — Pretty in Pink

1996 ; seventeen

“They say pressure makes diamonds, how the hell am I still coal?”

People on television and in stories always said “A happy wife equals a happy life” and though they had only been married— technically, legally on Iolande’s planet —for nine months Arley got it. At least she thought she got it because while she knew that saying was always intended for the sickly in love, not friends— and that was all they were, they had tried to fall in love but more recently than not realized that would probably never happen  —Arley couldn’t help but think her life was better off for having married the Princess-turned-Queen because finally someone saw her.

Maybe Iolande didn’t fully see her, and maybe that was why she and Arley would never truly fall in love; but the Queen of Betrasus saw her far more clearly than almost anyone else that didn’t sling a ring and that was why— after Iolande had asked to see the world Arley had grown up on, and places she loved oh so dearly and meet the people she held so dearly to her heart —Arley had taken her Queen to Earth for their belated Honeymoon.

The only reason Ioland’s King-regent of a father had taken up ruleling once more in Iolande’s absence and Iolande’s council of advisors even allowed the trip was because they all, and the rest of the planet hoped Iolande would come back to Betrassus with an heir stowed away and growing in her royal womb.

Not that that would ever happen, but what Iolande’s father and advisors didn’t know about Arley’s biology wouldn’t hurt them. 

Arley turned her face up in the direction of the sun. Iolande laid out in an extra bathing suit, next to her as they lounged on the beach that led up to the Ferris mansion. Arley peaked over at her wife; Iolande’s pink skin reddened in the sun, despite the sunblock.

They were friends— who, in times of stress, kissed —but just because that was all they were didn’t mean Arley felt bad when she thought Iolande beautiful. Friends could think that of one another.

Though Iolande had only been on the planet two and a half days, Arley— with the help of one of MIB’s universal translating watches —had already introduced Iolande to Bruce, Dick and Alfred. And while that had gone worse than Arley had expected as Dick and Bruce had gotten into a screaming match with one another over lunch— leaving Arley and Iolande to chat with Alfred over the tea he’d made —she had also brought the Queen around the Kent family farm for dinner afterwards.

Iolande had met Clark and his parents Martha and John Kent— and Lois Lane who would, in eight months time, be Lois Lane-Kent —the night before.

After that, that following morning, after Arley had brought Iolande to her mothers headstone, and after a filling lunch in Santa Margarita in Italy, Arley had brought Iolande with her to meet the still, very comatose Guy Gardner. 

The Kents had reacted better than Guy had when Arley had introduced Iolande; Martha Kent had hugged the Queen tightly and offered her a hand knit Kent sweater and while that was better than Dick and Bruce screaming at one another before storming out of the manor and into their respective corners of the cave underneath the Wayne home, Arley would have taken any reaction from Guy rather than silent breathing.

Carol had agreed to have dinner with them; to meet Iolande formally. She’d been in New York the past week for work and while Arley could have taken Iolande to her, Carol had insisted dinner be in Coast City. In the meantime Arley and Iolande were squirreled away, on a beach, in the sun, talking. 

Arley was telling Iolande of the insane kidnapping case she had been brought in on the year before. 

With Earth expanding into intergalactic trade and aliens becoming more and more prominent every day, diplomacy had also begun to extend between planets. Last year the adopted daughter of a Nabu Diplomat stationed in Los Angeles had been kidnapped on her way to school. The FBI had been called but because it was Leia who was taken— not a normal Earthing child —they had passed the case to the still new to the public eye, MIB claiming that alien kidnappings were out of their jurisdiction and squarely in the Men in Blacks’. And the MIB needing to be infallible— or risk their fragile, public, government funding —and with half a day already behind them, had called Arley and an LAPD detective Carter to work alongside one of Leia's bodyguards, Obi-Wan Lee to get her back.

“You got her back, though, right?” Iolande asked; “You saved her.”

“Oh yeah,” Arley smiled. She, Lee and Cater had also managed to capture a pirate who had been smuggling artifacts from Nabu to Earth. It was why Leia had been kidnapped. The diplomat's adopted daughter had been taken as assurance that her father wouldn’t alert his government about the smuggling operation. “She sent me a Christmas card, actually.”

“That’s sweet.” Arley hummed in agreement as she thought of the card. Despite Arley not celebrating Christmas— or any holiday, really —the handmade card was hanging on Arley and Carol’s fridge. Tapped inside the card was a picture of Leia and Lee; Lee had signed under the picture, wishing her a happy Earth holiday.

“It is.”

“Do you think about it?” Iolande asked, turning to face Arley. “Having children I mean?” Arley— silently, and maybe that was the answer to Iolande’s question in itself —blinked, her gaze flickered down to the matching ring set they wore and Iolande laughed; “Not with me per say but in general?”

“Why?” Arley asked back. 

“Because you're good with children and it would be a shame if you never got to have it,” Iolande answered. “But by your answer—” or lack thereof “—I’m assuming you haven’t?” 

Arley couldn't help but smile in her friend’s— in her wife’s —direction. Though they had only known each other a few months Iolande could read her as easily as she could read any book, scroll or tome in her royal library. 

“No,” Arley answered earnestly, “I’ve never let myself think of kids.”

“But why?” Iolande pressed, “You’re amazing—”

“I’m dangerous. What I do, Iolande, is dangerous.” I’m going to die one day, Arley didn’t say. “It’d be wrong to put that on a child.” Her throat tightened at the thought of dying on not just her sector and those that cared for her but on a child specifically. 

Arley thought of her mother; of her funeral and pale cream colored casket. The only reason she stopped thinking of how the incense smelled at her mothers funeral and how her voice shook when she read from the Book of Revelation was because Iolande grabbed her hand in hers.

Her heart throbbed in her chest; she missed her mom.

Iolande’s pink thumb traced over Arley’s scarred knuckles.

“Fine then,” Iolande sighed with an air of fake pomp. Arley looked at the Queen and she seemed to almost glow in the sun, “I’ll have our child,” she smiled wickedly. “Of course. I want a girl, I’ll name her after your mother, if you won’t use the name, I will.”

“You will?” Iolande’s face softened at Arley’s question. 

“In my culture you name your child after the dead to keep their memory preserved. I was named after my great-grandmother, a strong willed Queen who counseled her husband to lead a rebellion against her tyrant sister, my great-aunt.”

“Serious?” Arley asked, incredibly interested. She pulled her knees to her chest and shifted her weight to lean further into Iolande’s air.  “What was so tyrannic about your great aunt?”

“Well,” Iolande started under the beaming sun, “My great-great grandmother had four daughters; Renesemee, Iolande, Hedwig and Tsuyu, in that order. Renesemee succeeded her mother. She was engaged to General in the Royal army-the only reason they weren’t wed and crowned together the way they were supposed to be is because he betrothed Tyrac was off fighting. At the time my planet's ports were bustling, they were a target for pirates, smugglers-the likes and Tyrac, he was a general, and because she she would have no other but him and the fact it was just supposed to be smugglers, my great aunts council had allowed her to rise to power without him by her side.”

“It wasn’t just smugglers?” Arleu asked, Iolande shook her head.

“Florkan men; they stole for the Florkan army. Raided ports and ships alike in my star system at the time all under command of their emperor but without the flag.”

“So if they were ever caught no one would know they were under a sanctioned attack,” Arley surmised. It was a tactic Arley saw often enough and she understood why leaders did it; if it couldn’t be proven that the thieves were sanctioned then it gave leaders plausible deniability and the ability to claim that the thieves sacked whatever port they raided of their own free will. By scapegoating their men and throwing them under the bus, Arley, in her years of service, had seen planets avoid war and leaders avoid charges of war crimes.

“Exactly. And at first she was a good, benevolent Queen. She cared for her people the way the Queen should, she even arranged the marriages for each of her sisters to lords on her council. Only after her betrothed fell in battle Renesmee started to spiral. She lost herself to grief.”

And if Arley was a romantic she’d say it was understandable to lose oneself after losing the love of your life. But she wasn’t; she couldn’t be. She was a soldier— a Green Lantern —and if the Council had done anything since Guy’s coma it had been making one point very clear to Arley, the Corps’ Morningstar. The universe couldn’t afford a Lantern with a soft and squishy heart, not when war between the Lights raged and lives were on the line. If she hesitated the way she had when Guy had been hurt next time people could— would —die. 

“She closed the castle doors after Tyrac’s death hoping the solace would clear her mind. She threw her sisters and their families out-my great grandmother was pregnant with my mothers first brother when she and her husband had to make the journey to the southern lakes. Famine hit, summer had been hotter than ever before and the winter that followed it was harsher than predicted, people were dying everywhere but my great aunt refused their pleas. She was so caught up in her grief that hundreds of thousands died in some of the worst ways possible.”

“What happened then?” Arley asked, her chin on her knees and her thighs pressed against her chest. Her fingers locked themselves around her ankles. 

“My great grandmother's child died.” Arley sucked in a deep breath. “Food was scarce, even for the princesses of the planet and her milk dried up and my grandmother's eldest sibling died still in the cradle. Her name was Myra. After that my great grandmother became enraged-if her sister had done her duty then the people would have been better prepared, famine wouldn’t have happened the way it had and Myra wouldn’t’ve died.”

Arley nodded, that she supposed was another reason she never thought of having children. She knew they were just as mortal as any fully grown man; moreso even because they were fragile. 

How many mothers has she had to tell after she failed at her job? How many screamed in a way that set her spine straight and caught her breath in her very own throat? How many fathers has she caught as they staggered forward so as not to let them fall? How many parents have begged over the years for her to be lying?

How many graves has she helped families dig in their darkest of times?

“So she and her husband began collecting allies, both on and off world. Within the year of their daughter's death they had amassed an army to overthrow my great aunt.”

“How long did that take?”

“Two years. My great grandmother had two other sisters, they also tried to throw a coup which prolonged the fighting.”

“What happened to them?” 

“Hedwig’s ally, a Sontaran Lord, betrayed her and her husband before their first battle, killing them despite guests rights, and Tysu, as my great grandmother's men managed to overtake her fortress, threw herself out of the window of her tallest tower's highest window. She wasn’t to be harmed, my great grandmother's journals read that Tysu was to be tried for treason and kept in the castle for the rest of her days as her husband had died the month before the fortress was taken.”

“Do you think she did it to be with him, or…?” Arley trailed off. 

“Who knows,” Iolande shrugged against the sun, “There was never any note found, just her crown and a picture of her and her sisters from when they were young. My great grandmother thinks she did it because she couldn’t lose. She would rather die a Lady and Princess than live disgraced and a prisoner, even to her own sister.”

Arley, lost for words, reached out and grabbed Iolande’s hand in hers; she squeezed her wifes— friend; the bond she and Iolande had was the closest thing Arley had to that of a bond between best friends —hand and Iolande wiggled her hand in Arley’s until her fingers intertwined themselves with Arley’s and they smiled at one another.

0.0.0.0

Arley, despite all the galas and fundraisers and the recent estate dinners she’d been to since getting her ring, still struggled with what constituted a salad fork and what didn’t. 

Despite the pouring rain, Arley and Iolande had arrived early to the restaurant— Zuni’s Cafe —they were supposed to eat at with Carol. Carol had been coming to Zuni’s since they opened— back when she had been a teenager —in seventy-nine; since then she had bought into the place, become friends with the chefs and seen the hot-spot dining establishment turn into a Michilin Star carrying eatery. 

To Arley’s knowledge Carol had a standing Saturday night reservation with Zuni’s that— as long as she was in the city —she never missed.

Iolande had borrowed a black dress with a high neckline that didn’t even come close to making up for its short hemming; the skirt seemed even shorter on Iolande who was nearly an entire head and a half taller than the Lantern. It was supposed to be the latest fashion and while Arley couldn’t care less about what was in and what wasn't— she had a job to do and at the end of the day Arley didn’t really care about how she looked while doing it —Carol did.

And Carol was why no matter how long Arley was away from Earth from her closest never seemed to reflect it; Arley wore a dark green pants suit. The suit jacket was more of a long vest with a singular button on it and though Arkey wore a tank top underneath the vested top— in the mirror from where she and Iolande stood, waiting for Carol —the suit seemed to be all she was wearing.

People stared; Arley wasn’t sure if that was because of her— the older she grew the more people talked about her, though it was never about her job —or the fact that Iolande— and alien with boink skin and eyes that at first glance had only sclera —with her hair in intricate braids and her tiny black dress looked like an absolute vision. 

“So Carol is like your sister, correct?” Iolande asked.

“Yeah,” Arley nodded, “I guess.” 

Carol had never been like a mom to Arley, there had always been a distance there between them, a line Carol never once tried to step over; but they were far too close to just be called roommates. Over the years, when Arley couldn’t go anywhere else— not to the Batcave or to Oa —it was Carol who helped Arley put herself back together whether that be physically— helping Arley bandage and structure herself shut while they waited for her ring to the rest —or on the much rarer instance, emotionally. Carol, more than just once, had woken Arley up; she’d been screaming— crying, begging, completely sobbing —in her sleep and Carol would hold her hand until her heartbeat calmed down enough for sleep to claim her once more. 

“Miss Gluck?” The maderdee— Sam; she was pretty sure his name was Sam —said, drawing Arley and Iolande’s attention to him. He looked at the people around Arley and Iolande almost pointedly, “Would you and your friend like to sit while you wait on Ms Ferris?” 

“Could we?”

“Right this way ma’am,” Sam motioned to the curved archway. Iolande stepped first and then Arley; from the archway they were handed off to a tiny woman with dark spiky hair and freckles that dotted her nose. From there the tiny waitress led Arley and Iolande to the back of the restaurant, where in a private corner, a table with the name Ferris laid. 

The restaurant was dimly lit; each table had a small, barely lit candle on it.

Arley had her back to the wall, she faced the entirety of the restaurant; from where she was she could see up to the curved arch that separated the waiting and dining areas. 

“My name is Alice, I’ll be waiting on all of you tonight-Miss Gluck?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know if Ms Ferris might be joining you all shortly?”

“Um—” Arley used her ring to create a bright glowing green watch— the light of her construct seemed to illuminate the dark restaurant —to wrap around the inside of her wrist. All the eyes in the room fell on Arley; like moths to a flame dozens of eyes landed on her construct and Arley, nearly a decade into her service, swallowed the discomfort that came with the— excited, curious, jealous —looks.  “—She should be here soon.”

“Wonderful.” Alice placed three menus down, two in front of Iolande and Arley, and one on the table in front of the empty space Carol would fill soon enough. “I’ll bring you two out some water-one for Ms. Ferris too, but aside from that would either of you like anything else to drink?”

Iolande looked at Arley excitedly. Bestrassus, after years of its climate heating up degree after degree,  had become something akin to a desert planet and though the planets people had acclimated to the conditions— Iolande and her people needed far less water than humans, for example and lived their lives more closely to life forms like the Kangaroo Rat —it didn’t mean that Iolande didn’t revel in the excess; having glass after glass of what would be invaluable drinking water on her home planet.

“No but if you could bring a pitcher of water please?”

“Of course,” Alice said with a bright smile before spiriting herself away; Arley watched the waitress disappear behind swinging doors, a bounce in every one of her steps. 

Iolande looked at the menus in front of her and then, with a bright, toothy smile, looked up at Arley. “I don’t know what any of these foods are.”

“Don’t worry,” Arley chuckled, “I do.” The Lantern picked up her own menu and looked it over. While Zuni’s tended to change their menus every day they had their staples which translated into their simple menu. 

Carol always ordered something different but when she didn’t see anything tantalizing— as she put it —she’d fall back on the pan-seared ling cod with saffron mashed potatoes, caramelized fennel and young onions. 

Arley wasn’t sure what constituted a young onion and what didn’t but she wasn’t in the cooking business. Unlike Carol who was adventurous when it came to her palate, Arley tended to stick to the same thing when she could; it was easier to eat the same thing— that she already knew she liked —then risk having to force herself to eat something she ended up hating. 

That was why she always got the fettuccine with chanterelle mushrooms, Esepelette pepper and chandler pomelo. 

“You might like the scallops,” Arley suggested. Unlike her— like Carol —Iolande was willing to try new things; especially seafood. 

“Scallops?”

“They’re clams?” Arley offered half heartedly; “Uh—“ Arley used her ring to project the definition of scallops. Once more all eyes in Zuni’s drifted to Arleys construct.  “The ring says that scallops are a type of shellfish and bivalve mollusk with two hinged shells and a delicate, slightly chewy adductor muscle that's eaten. They're named after their habitat, with the two main types being bay and sea scallops. Scallops swim by clapping their shells together, and some have two-toned shells they can flip to camouflage themselves. Found worldwide, scallops are high in omega-3 fatty acids and have a subtle taste similar to crab and lobster,” Arley read. 

“And I like lobster.” Arley could see the waitress coming back with completely bread, butter and oil. 

“And crab,” Arley pointed out when the waitress Alice set the bread, butter and oil down on the table. After the beach she’d taken Iolande to a seafood buffet where they’d stuffed their faces and Arley took some pictures with the elderly couple who owned it; their granddaughter apparently idolized Arley enough that a heartfelt message from her hero from her grandparents would make her life. 

“Thank you,” Arley smiled. 

“It’s nothing, I’ll come back soon and hopefully Ms. Ferris is here by then but while we wait do you two have any idea what kind of aptitudes you might want?”

“Sort of,” Arley said, “And feel free to let the chief say no—“

“—Anything,” the waitress said, “You and Ms. Ferris are our favorite patrons.”

“It’s Io’s first time Earth side and I know you guys don’t do a sampler platter—“

“—We got you Miss. Lantern.”

“Yeah?” Alice beamed at Arley. 

“I’ll talk to the chief, don’t sweat it.” She then turned to Iolande, “I’ll be back with our best appetizers, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m excited,” Iolande replied earnestly. 

“I’ll be back shortly ladies.”

When the waitress Alice disappeared once more, Iolande leaned forward, across the table. “I think  I’ll get the scallops.”

Arley flashed her wife— best friend —a smile. 

“I know you’ve told me that Carol runs her own business-and I know it’s in aerospace engineering for the most part, but should I know anything else?” Iolande asked, 

“Uh—” Arley’s brows rose as she looked up at the faux bronze ceiling of the restaurant as she tried to think of talking points for Iolande. “—Well, Carol likes fashion, she likes funny movies and cheesy romance books-one’s with bad covers.”

“She liked poorly kept books?”

“No,” Arley chuckled, “What I mean is there are books out there, here on Earth with badly drawn covers. Usually with a man who has no shirt and a woman with little clothing somewhere like a boat or a manor, or something like that.”

“Why?” Iolande asked, scandalized and before Arley could answer a scream rang out from the front of the restaurant. Arley was on her feet before half of Zuni’s patrons had turned their heads. 

“Stay here, I’ll be back.” But Iolande didn’t get to respond before the madordee, Sam was flung through the archway and a woman bathed in pink light, floating inches above the floor followed him to the dining area. 

No. 

“Carol?” Arley croaked.

This can’t be happening.

“You,” Carol hissed with a pointed glare from behind the pointy, pink mask she was wearing. Arley had never heard her sound so angry and hateful; Arleys heart seized in her chest. “There you are.”

This has to be a nightmare, Arley thought as Carol touched down onto the restaurant's floor and a elderly man who’d been eating alone helped Sam scramble to his feet. Arley spied the emblem on Carol's chest; she could feel the power— the heat from the light —roll off of her.

“Carol—” Arley’s voice was small, quiet and if the room hadn’t been so quiet she wouldn’t have been able to be heard. Who did this to you? Wasn’t a question that needed to be asked aloud, Arley knew enough about the universe— about the spectrum of light the Guardians used to forge her and the Other Lanterns rings —to know without being told who had done this to Carol.  “—What happened?” She needed to know. 

Slowly— carefully —the restaurant began to empty. Those behind Carol ran for the exit, while those around and in front of her, behind Arley, inched their way to the walls and then to the exit. 

“I woke up,” Carol snapped, “I couldn’t take it anymore and I woke up!”

“From what Carol? Look think this through, please, you don't want to hurt anyone here,” Arley said slowly. 

“The hell I don’t!” Carol roared. The pink light that emanated from her brightened almost blindingly. Arley didn’t power up her suit, she kept her hands out in front of her, outstretched towards Carol. “I want everyone to hurt the way I've been hurting all these years!”

Arley’s head cocked to the side. “What are you talking about Carol?”

“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” Carol sneered. Her face twisted into one of disgust. The heat from the light got worse. “The moment you got that ring the universe just opened up for you, didn’t it? And always at my expense!” 

The heat flared once more and Arley moved; she wrapped Carol in a bright green bubble and pushed her out of the restaurant. The doors came off their hinges as they came out onto the street. Arley was glowing green, like Carol she was bathed in the light of her ring. 

People in the streets shouted and the flashing of police lights caught Arleys peripheral. Arley licked her lips as thought after thought raced through her mind; the only one never leaving was ways to get that ring off of Carol's finger that didn’t include cutting her arm off. Carol— taking advantage of Arley’s clouded mind —exploded Arley’s bubble; with a roar the CEO burst free of Arley’s construct. 

“Carol—”

“—You bitch!” Arley dodged the beam of bright pink light Carol shot out at her, the light hit the top of the restaurant. People screamed as bits of brick fell to the street; Arley hazarded a look, hoping Iolande was safe from harm. “When I kill you! Hal will have to come back then! Guy’s as good as dead those Guardians of yours will have to bring him home,” Carol snarled. 

“Carol no,” Arley tried as she flew higher into the air. Carol followed her. “That’s not how that works and underneath all this is crazy, you know that!”

“It could!”

“It won’t-Hal is on the other side of the goddamn universe and-and—” Arley tried, biting her tongue as she fumbled for what to say.

“—And what!” Because the truth hurts.

“And he doesn't want to come back, Carol,” Arley said softly. “You know that, if he wanted to, he would. He’s not gone because of me.” 

Hal Jordan was the best to sling the ring; he was a soldier, a hero and a hotshot cowboy, living it up in the outermost parts of frontier space.

Arley watched as Carol’s face twisted and crumbled a thousand times in seconds; Carol put her hands over her ears before dragging them down, clawing at her face. She rolled her shoulders and though she wore a mask Arley could see the crazy in Carol's eyes, if only because she got brighter as her hands turned to fists.

“Let's see if that’s true.”

She dove at Arley with the kind of skill Kilowog would kill to have in a White Circle. Arley maneuvered around Carol and for a moment they danced in the air like that, green dodging pink at every turn, but then the sound of helicopters filled the air and Arley saw three within throwing distance; two news choppers and a CCPD one. 

“Fuck,” Arley swore as she once more avaided Carol, “Can you guys—” Arley’s request for the CCPD and reports to clear her airspace died in her throat as Carol tackled her from the side. The pair began to  plummet; with Carol’s weight and force driving her down towards the asphalt of the ground all Arley could do was think of soft things like a mattress full of goose down feathers and large pillows to go with it.

They landed on Arley’s construct, Carol’s knees dug into the green. Arley threw her arms up in front of her face as Carol began to beat down on her. 

“Carol! Knock it the fuck off!”

“Die!”

“Fuck this,” Arley shouted when her arm slipped and Carol’s knuckle hit her front tooth. The construct disappeared and they began to drop. Arley used their dip to roll them, with one hand wrapped around Carol’s forearm and another in Carol’s hair, Arley locked her legs over Carols as she spun them.

Carol landed on the hard asphalt road with a squawk. 

Arley hit Carol once and then twice, then clean hits across her jaw— not nearly as hard as she could; but hard enough —before she made a go for the bright pink ring on Carol's hand. 

“Get off!” Carol bucked; Arley tightened her knees on either side of Carol. 

“You’ll thank me—” Arley was blasted to the side. In an explosion of pink Arley was thrown from Carol and clean across the block, close to where the CCPD cars and officers were. Arley could feel the blood start to pool as her suit began to repair itself in the place it’s been burned off of her. 

Bits of her hair smelled like char.

“Lantern!” An officer shouted, “Shit Lantern are you okay?” 

Arley got to her feet and saw two aliens— tall blue, female aliens —help Carol to her feet. Above them was a portal; like a boom tube of sorts. Arley could see light coming from the portal, which like Carol and the aliens was glowing pink. 

She formed a glowing green spear in her hand and without answer she shot off towards Carol. Carol pushed the alien Arley had been going for out of the way and Arleydrove the tip of her speared construct down so as not to hit her by accident. 

The constructs top broke through the asphalt.

Arley looked to the taller, older, looking of the aliens and snarled; “Get the ring off her finger, now.”

“Gha’ta,” the alien woman said to the other, “Get our new sister home, I will deal with the Morningstar.”

Rage— red hot, angry enough to spit —rage rolled over Arley at the moniker. 

“The hell you will! Carol!” The spear turned to rope in Arley’s hands, which she used to wrap around Carol's ankle as she shot up into the air. She sidestepped the alien woman's dive and used the slack of her constructed rope to wrap around the alien's neck. She pulled and the alien fell to her knees as Carol dropped down several feet.

“No!” Fuck, Arley swore as the young alien attempting to kidnap Carol aimed a beam of light at her. The construct disappeared, “Carol!” 

The older alien grappled with Arley, her nails dug into the green of Arley’s arms. 

“She is our sister now Morningstar, you have allowed her heart to be neglected for too long.” Arley, for the first time since her last battle with Guy, felt it; the need not to be righteous in the name of the Guardians but vengeful. She wanted to tear the hair from the alien's head like some hot headed school girl as they fought.

“Then we’ll talk about it when I drag her ass home-now move!” Arley drove her knee into the aliens solar plexus, once then twice and when the alien fell to her knee’s Arley then slammed her head into the aliens; dark purple blood gushed out of the aliens nose and onto Arleys suit. As the alien's head bobbed back and forth Arley hit her several times until when she threw the disoriented alien to the ground, the alien stayed down with a whimpered groan.

Carol was at the forefront of Arley’s mind, the people looking on were at the back; unlike Carol, Earth had yet to see what being a Green Lantern really meant like the rest of the universe.

But they could, Arley thought to herself as she shot up into the sky, between Carol, the young-ish alien woman and their portal to who knew where, I could show them the kind of soldier the universe has formed me into. I can show them the Morningstar.

“Goddammit you little bitch, move!” Carol snapped. The alien Arley had thrown to the side came up on Carols; both of the aliens flanked Carol's sides, though she swayed as she floated, like she wasn’t quite sure how to fly straight.

“I can’t do that Carol. Not when you’re not thinking straight. You hate me?” Arley heaved in a deep breath, the thought pained her more than she could put into words. She licked her lips, “Fine, I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again, I swear it, but I won't let you ruin your life by going with these nutjobs.”

“Just because we allow ourselves to feel emotion Morningstar does not mean that we are crazy nutjobs,” the eldest alien whose nose Arley had broken said with a thick voice and blood covering the lower half of her face. She looked just as insulted at being called a nutjob as she did hurt over the beating she’d taken.

“No but the fact that everyone who wears your girl-boss ring goes bloodthirsty and out of their fucking minds dose!” Arley snapped back.

“We let our sisters feel what they’ve been repressing.”

“You repress your sister's inhibitions leading to unnecessary death!” Arley snapped back. That’s how the rings worked, it’s why Green Lanterns were the universe’ protectors because their rings were the color on the spectrum of light that didn’t cloud your mind, because they were the only ring color that didn’t rely on an emotion. 

“And the death you cause is necessary?” Carol asked cooly. “Whoever you killed at nine was necessary? Everytime you come back to my home, the one I should be sharing with the love of my life instead of some gutterrate turned prize-motherufkcing-poney, covered in blood, that's somehow different?” 

Arley floated back, as if she’d been struck. 

“Yes.” It had to be.

“You’re a hypocrite and bitch,” Carol declared. 

“Sure,” Arley said with a wobble in her voice, “Okay. But only if you take that ring off I am.”

“Only if I leave you alive,” Carol corrected.

“Carol, the only way I let you leave this sector is if I’m dead.”

“Why?” Carol cried, “Why! You get love-everyone loves you, this girl you brought tonight she loves you. Why do you get that and power and I get nothing? I get left alone for years by Hal and by weeks and weeks by you and why!” Carol screamed, “Can’t I find somewhere I belong! I have everything except the one thing I need and it’s not fair!”

“You can!” Arley swore, she flew closer to Carol, inched closer and closer to her and Carol she drifted from the other two aliens, closer to her. “Carol, you can have that here!”

“Why not there? You have a place so far away, Hal has one even further now doesn't he?” She was crying; Carol had tears spilling over her mask and down her face. She was shaking; Arley could see her, tearing herself apart where she floated. 

Arley’s throat tightened. 

How many times had she seen that look on her own face? How many times had she shaken herself into a stupor because no one had heard her pleas?

Arley reached out to Carol, the closest thing she had to an older sister in this life. Carol had stitched her back together more times than Arley could count over the years. Whenever the wounds were too deep to heal by the time she got home and Carol was there, it was her who sat Arley on the guest bathroom's toilet and patched her up while giving her the latest rundown on Ferris Inc and pop culture and whatever else she thought Arley should know. Carol had woken Arley up over the years; every night they were in the same house Arley would wake up to Carol standing over her because she a was screaming— crying, sobbing, begging —and they wouldn’t talk about it but they would go to the kitchen and make hot chocolate and watch whatever sad daytime television rerun they’d been to busy to watch when it aired until they passed out on separate ends of the couch. 

Arley knew that wasn’t what families did; that Bruce and Dick for all their screaming matches could seem more cohesive to the outside viewer but it was what Arley had grown accustomed to calling life. Hadn’t Carol?

 Carol looked at her outstretched hand and then her.

“Because what they’re going to ask of you, when your head clears and you’re able to think of it, it’ll be too high,” Arley promised. The blood on Arleys’ hands haunted her every night. She could hear screams of people she couldn't save in her ears, ringing. Haunting her with every step she took in life, like they were chasing her down.

“Maybe,” Carol said. She inched closer. 

Arley smiled and then she stopped. Her vision went blurry and Arley looked down; Carol had formed a construct, bright pink and sharp enough to cut into Arley’s suit and clean through her.

Arley grabbed Carol’s wrist. Her fingers dug in; Arley’s lip wobbled. 

Screaming. People were screaming. Or was the screaming Arley lived her life running with her finally catching up to her?

Arley licked her lips, they tasted like copper. 

“Do you feel that Gha’ta?” 

“But I don’t think it will be,” Carol said with a bite to her voice and a coldness to her eyes that Arley had never seen in them before.

“Her heart—” 

Arley swayed in the air. Her suit as Carol's construct disappeared, threaded over her wound, putting pressure on it. Though the blood still seeped through the green turning it dark. Carol made an attempt to stab Arley again, Arley’s arm went up; the blade of Carol’s construct sliced through Arley’s suit.

Blood ran down her arm.

She tried a third time to stab Arley, the tip of the constructs blade slashed Arley from collarbone to sternum. Carol then hit her; not nearly as hard as she had before but hard enough that with the wound and her heart— her very hurt and broken heart —she tumbled from the air and to the ground. 

The screaming got louder.

Arley, from the crater she's created in the street, had the perfect view to watch Carol and the aliens that’d come for her disappear into and through the portal. Before Arley knew it Carol was gone; the portal was gone. 

People were shouting; not screaming but shouting. A thunderous stampede of feet rushed towards where Arley laid. She shut her eyes.

She’d failed. It hurt to breathe.

She’d failed Guy. Her head hurt.

She’d failed Carol. The blood seeping out of the wounds was warm— hot, almost like it burned —against her skin.

“Arley!” She turned her head and opened her eyes. Iolande was at her side before she knew it, one hand holding hers and the other brushing her hair out of her face. There was a group of people around her; a paramedic knelt down next to Iolande.

“Ms. Lantern you need to power down your suit so we can take a look at the wound.”

“No,” Arley croaked. She twitched as if to move to get up but Iolande and the paramedics who had begun to swarm her all pushed her down. 

“Arley,” Iolande begged as her suit faded away and she was left in the bloody mess that was a pantsuit Carol had picked out for her sometime ago. Iolande sounded far away; like she was underwater. “Please, let them help.”

No, Arley wanted to say. She didn't get help when she failed— but that wasn’t true, when she failed and would go home Carol would patch her up —she didn't deserve it. 

The corners of Arley’s vision went dark as she focused on the pain. Her shoulder and arm where she had been burned. Her face where she had slammed it into the aliens. Her back  ribs had cracked when she had fallen, she was sure of it. Nothing— no amount of focus —could help her chest though.

Her broken heart.

“Ma’am are you coming with us?

Arley closed her eyes, she breathed. She tried to focus— on willing her ring to heal her faster —like she’d been taught to, she could at least do that as she was transferred into a gurney. 

“Of course.” Iolande’s voice was the last thing Arley remembered before everything faded to black.