Work Text:
When the Man in the Moon saw the spaceship hurtling toward Earth, he sent forth his moonbeams to search it, to find what dwelled within. When he found a child, he felt a sharp pain in his breast. Could it be another child of the Constellations, another refugee from Pitch?
He guided the ship as it fell, bringing it to a place he knew was safe. The child, like him, appeared human, but such appearances could be deceiving.
And in fact, they were, when the child showed prodigious strength, the ability to fly, and so much more. No intervention was needed to make the child grow to value all that was right about humanity; the people who had taken the child in were people of great integrity and strength, and in time, the child became a man, and the Man in the Moon began considering how to approach the man, to request he become a symbol of children’s innocence-
And then the child traveled to the north, almost to Nicholas’ home, and the Man in the Moon lost him. When he found him again...
He somehow suspected his tutelage would not be needed. The child was a paragon, a Guardian that walked in the light, and inspired all of humanity. He decided that he would leave this one alone.
---
Of course Toothiana knew about Themyscira; it was a legend of a place so much like her own people’s home that she longed, sometimes, to visit it. But the children there needed no sheltering, and were raised in beliefs so ancient and different from the mythos that surrounded her that visiting seemed inappropriate, somehow.
When she began hearing whispers about an Amazon walking the world, she might have gone to a little bit of effort trying to track the woman down. And whatever Aster said, it wasn’t stalking!
When she finally tracked the Amazon down, it was with a sense of...not disappointment.
Sadness. She could see the age in the woman, the immortality weighing upon her in a way that it could not on a mortal. The children of Themyscira needed no Guardians, because they were not children. They grew up knowing of heavy duties and a heavy history.
She wished there was something she could do to ease that burden. But she could only recall memories, and all of Wonder Woman’s were tainted by the weight of her duties.
---
North would deny having a favorite among the heroes of the Justice League. They were each people who had transcended humanity to walk the path he had so long ago chosen. Had he been born in their age, he knew, he would have been one of them.
But in his secret heart, it was Hawk Girl who was his favorite. He could see in her attitude the same warrior spirit he had carried for so long. Her strength, and her origin from beyond the stars fascinated him. Not because she was so much better than anyone, but because she was as flawed and interesting as any human - or bunny.
It was not, he had to admit, an entirely platonic interest. That mace, the one that could shatter magic, was a wonder to behold. He’d tried for years to mimic it. And he had played with the idea of mechanical wings for such a long time...
He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he ever met her. Probably embarrass himself. It was always such a problem when you met your heroes.
---
Aster wasn’t human. No matter how much he liked the ankle-biters, and had taken on mannerisms like the Australians, he was alien in origin. It was hard, sometimes, to realize that the people around him had certain expectations, based on the fact that he was vaguely humanoid. None of them understood his culture, his history, and if they ever mentioned either, it was in passing, or as part of a joke.
Hey, Aster’s really a giant space rabbit!
The last one. Last of his kind. Left to remember his people, for no one else would carry the legacy.
Sometimes, when he sat outside to watch the moon, Aster tried to find the Watchtower. He knew that one of the Justice League sat there at every hour, and he knew that often, the one who sat there was the Martian Manhunter.
The last of his kind.
Not like Superman, who had been raised human, or Hawk Girl, who had a people, however distant.
But the only one left to remember his people, abandoned and forgotten to the rest of the universe.
Aster wished, sometimes, he could meet the Martian and talk to him. Commiserate a little about the feelings of being alone, even when surrounded by comrades.
But the Guardians walked a different path from the Justice League, and so their paths would no cross, no matter how much Aster wished otherwise.
---
Sandy was born a star, which meant he understood much about the universe that no one else did. He knew the dance of the universe, and the power of light. A yellow sun could awaken powers in the men of Krypton, and red light shone on dying worlds.
Sandy, too, knew the power of a green sun. The green light that burned in the heart of the great lantern shone as a beacon across the universe. It always had, even during the Golden Age.
When he had fallen to Earth, Sandy had despaired in his search for a way to make a difference. He was a wishing star, made to grant others’ dreams. There was nothing to grant his.
When Sandy discovered the Dream Sand, there had been a moment of confusion, until he first shaped it with his thoughts, and he realized that even though he bore no ring, this was his chance to be like the Green Lantern Corps, to follow the path of the heroes that had been a bastion of hope to the universe.
When a ring fell to Earth, Sandy took to keeping an eye on the man. It was...for the interests of protecting the world.
And sometimes, he planted dreams in the Lantern’s mind. Things to inspire the man, to remind him that a power fueled by imagination could only profit from vivid dreams.
---
Jack wasn’t always a fun-loving spirit. Being ignored for so long, he had sought out more and more extreme ways to catch attention. The blizzard of 68 had been...extreme, he would admit. But no one could see him. No one cared what he did.
Or so he’d thought. The meeting with the bunny had shaken him, and Jack had to spend time really thinking. He’d been lost for a while after that, and then...
Well, Superman had been the first. The others came after. But it revitalized him. No one knew who these heroes were in real life. No one really saw them. But they still saved people.
Jack wasn’t superhero material, but he could slip through life causing unseen miracles. Sparing children from everyday hazards. Traffic, sledding accidents, thin ice...
He’d grown to love their laughter. And when he’d first seen the Flash, the blur that resolved into a jocular young man, who believed that keeping a smile on people’s faces was the best way to keep them safe; you could empty a room in an orderly manner with a joke, something that could save lives, or broken bones.
It inspired him. And while he was still alone, still invisible, he knew he was making the world a better place.
---
Gotham was Pitch’s city. It had lived for so long steeped in fear that children were practically born with it filling their veins. He delighted in wandering the streets, knowing that the children cowered because he had mastered the city utterly. It was a model of the world he hoped to create.
The best part was how the Guardians were powerless here. Oh, the humans went through the rituals of placing teeth under pillows, wishing children sweet dreams, Easter, and Christmas, but there was no belief there. Nothing to convince the children that life was anything other than a nightmare.
And then one night he saw one of Tooth’s little fairies darting into an apartment complex, and he slipped in after her, intending to remind Tooth that this was his turf.
But then a stream of golden sand streaked by him into the same room, and Pitch recoiled. Well, one child, he thought, wasn’t that much of a problem.
Pitch, however, began seeing more of them. More and more fairies flitting around, Sandy actually having the gall to float over the city, and then he caught the flipping jackrabbit hiding eggs in Gotham Park.
It was impossible! The amount of fear in the city had not fallen; he could still feel the terror that wove its way through the night.
But when Pitch really looked, he saw what he had been missing. The fear was leaving the children, but it was not dying. It burned through the city, but not in the hearts of children. Not in their parents, either.
The children had happy dreams of bats...and the people who had haunted their nightmares feared the same thing.
Bats. Why bats?
It was pure luck that Pitch discovered him, the man who haunted the city, deadening the fear that had haunted it for generations. He had felt a spark of terror, and had moved to capitalize on it, to feed on it, and had stumbled upon a scene of carnage, a shadow dancing among a crowd of criminals, a shadow shaped like a bat. Pitch decided to stay and watch.
Or he would have, except that during a lull in the fighting, the shadow paused, and looked up, and he...
Met.
Pitch’s.
Gaze.
Pitch should not be able to feel fear. Pitch was the embodiment of fear, the birth of it in this world.
Pitch knew, in that moment, that remaining in this man’s presence for a moment longer would be the worst mistake he would ever make in his life.
And after that, Pitch could do nothing but feel his grip on the city loosening, and his power declining. The only way to regain it, he knew, was to face down and defeat the man who haunted the night.
Pitch wasn’t stupid enough to take on the Batman.