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The Heart Above All
The significance of helping a xudarian preen their feathers is unknown to Hal the first time he does it. As a rookie Green Lantern there are many things he's yet to learn, despite being under Sinestro's bone-tiring and soul-crushing tutelage. The interpersonal dynamics, the established groups, the cultural differences—besides learning how to use his ring in an extensive way, those are things that require a lot of time to understand. With his good-willed ignorance, Hal carefully plucks from a yellow-orange feather leftover gunk from Tomar-Re's latest mission.
Perhaps it's a good thing they're in Tomar-Re's personal quarters when this happens. The Green Lantern Corps are precise and unyielding in every field, which includes gossip. Had any other Green been witness to Hal’s careless action, in less than an hour there would've been five different tales about how he's trying to sleep his way into being declared a full fledged Lantern. But he's in Tomar-Re's room. It’s not suspicious because everyone knows the xudarian is the gentlest and most understanding seasoned Green Lantern, and all the rookies tend to flock towards him precisely because of that.
“Here, you missed a spot,” Hal says, smiling to himself a little. He likes feeling helpful. Sinestro already makes him feel so inept at everything that something as small as this is a huge pick-me-up.
He doesn't understand, though, why Tomar-Re jumps from his seat, beak clicking as it opens and closes repeatedly for two seconds, wide eyes becoming even wider. One hand immediately snaps to the cluster of feathers on his crest.
“You—”
Blinking in confusion, Hal looks down at the gunk he's holding between two fingers. “Was I not… supposed to take it out?”
“It's,” Tomar-Re frowns next, and now he looks conflicted. Finally, after a very brief moment spent deliberating with himself, he seems to find his words again. “Thank you, Hal. You… meant well.”
There’s the start of a sinking feeling beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t offend you, did I?”
“Not at all,” beaks don’t quite have the right shape to produce smiles, yet Hal is absolutely sure Tomar is smiling at him going off everything else—how his eyes crinkle at the corners, his expression softens, his shoulders relax a little more than before. “You’re a truly kind being.”
Hal doesn’t quite have it in him to correct the xudarian. If he’s to be defined any type of way, he’s more than pretty sure that kind would be the last descriptor assigned to him. He seems to have navigated well whatever misunderstanding was about to happen between them, though, so he keeps his mouth shut on that front. For all that Sinestro loves to call him every derogatory name in the sun, Hal is more than smart at the correct moments. That should be all that matters.
The moment passes. Tomar-Re relaxes once more, chuckling to himself and reaching out to play with Hal’s hair. His fingers linger a little longer than the initial contact lasted, but neither of them acknowledge that. Tomar-Re seems to be enjoying the texture, perhaps, and Hal’s selfish, desperate for a reassuring touch after everything that’s been happening in his life. It would normally be weird for a grown man like him to let another man touch his hair like this, but… to hell with it. No one else is present to see.
It’s later, when he’s back on Earth and laying in his bed, alone at night, when Hal starts wondering. What was there to misinterpret in his actions? Perhaps the crest is particularly sensitive, and he caused Tomar pain without meaning to? That would most definitely suck, but it’s not as though he can just ask. Luckily he has a really nifty tool wrapped around his finger, molded perfectly to it, and Hal doesn’t have to think twice before asking the ring for information on xudarians. If he caused his friend pain, he’d like to apologize properly. It’s the least he can do for Tomar, who is always looking out for him and is always a safe space for him to go to after a jarring training session with Sinestro.
What he learns is something entirely different. The ring’s unfeeling voice doesn't do anything to alleviate the embarrassment taking over him and lightning his cheeks aflame. After shifting through cultural customs and habits, he had landed in activities bonded xudarians do (which, wow, xudarians are most definitely part of a not monogamistic culture). Bonded, paired up, romantic and, or, sexual partners, just—things xudarians couples do. Like crest preening. Like touching another xudarian's crest feathers. Yes, the crest is particularly sensitive, and it’s only usually touched by family or by…
Hal spends that entire night unable to sleep. At 4:35 in the morning he asks the ring if the oh so wise Guardians have access to the things he asks the ring. Luckily, the answer to that is a resounding ‘no’.
—
The relationship between them doesn’t change. Even as Hal flourishes as a Green Lantern and is starting to be sent out on his own solo assignments, even if Sinestro rarely chews him out by now, the habit of seeking Tomar-Re out is now ingrained in his body and before he notices it he’s already making his way to the other’s bedroom. The door is, as usual, unlocked. Tomar has been waiting for him.
“Ah, you came back in one piece,” Tomar says with a cheerful glint in his eyes.
Hal snorts, pretending to dust off his own shoulder. “Of course. You’re looking at the best of the best right here, you know?”
“I do not think that’s what Lantern Sinestro calls you.”
Plopping down on the edge of the bed, Hal fake pouts—action that’s kind of lost on Tomar. He doesn’t read facial expressions the same way humans do. They’ve been breaching the cultural-biological differences more and more, though there are some things that are simply too complex to change in a short period of time.
“You can be mean, you know?” Hal mumbles, fingers picking at the covers. “Here I was thinking I was finally on that guy’s good side.”
Tomar-Re sighs softly, placing a stack of papers he had been reading on his desk before moving to sit by Jordan’s side. They bump shoulders, which causes a small smile to spread across Hal’s lips and a low almost-chirp sound to come rumbling from Tomar’s chest.
“Sinestro most definitely holds you in great esteem, Hal,” the xudarian assures him, giving his knee a squeeze. “I’ve never seen him so… smitten by another being as he is with you.”
“Gee, could’ve fooled me,” rolling his eyes, Hal looks down at the hand on his knee and can’t quite stop his train of thought when he remembers what the ring told him about xudarian bonded ones.
Ever since that night he’s been thinking about it non stop, truthfully. He likes to think he’s been good at keeping it a secret (Kilowog would’ve most definitely been on his case about it otherwise), but… Learning about their customs, the things they do, their culture and history and—perhaps, really, is that truly getting to know Tomar-Re and having these many intimate moments so often is what led to him developing a bit of a crush. Well. If Carol were here, if she could hear his thoughts, she’d call him out. He’s aware he’s not fooling himself when he tries to downplay it. Because it’s not just ‘a bit of a crush’. It’s a whole lot of a crush, it’s almost like he is infatuated, like he’s.
There is one thing that has kept him at bay from acting out on it. He’s never been ashamed of his attractions, he’s never second guessed himself when it came to people he finds attractive. On a technical, perhaps empirical, level he’s also aware that the Corps are extremely diverse and open-minded to any and all kinds of differences despite the initial reaction to having a human join their ranks for the first time in all of their history. New experiences are always met with more resistance, though he’s been accepted easily enough.
It’s simply the fact that he’s used to hiding certain things about himself that now it is rearing its ugly head and stopping him dead in his tracks. Which is fucking stupid. The army recruiter, back when he had hoped to have a career just like his dad’s, had told him his balls must be of steel for joining the Air Force considering he’s ‘one of the trannies’. Such a succinct way of putting it that marked his entire time in the Force where he had to prove his worth and his conviction over and over, and over, and over, and over again. He’d done it without any kind of bitching. He’d done it all.
Being at a loss now of how he should come out to who is now his safe space in the corps is a bit ironic. He could do it in as hostile of an environment as the fucking U.S. Air Force. Why can’t he open up here?
“Hal,” Tomar-Re sighs, bringing him back to the here and now. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Something has been bothering for a while lately, and I understand if you can’t tell me, but I urge you find someone who—”
“I know,” Hal blurts out before he can lose his nerve. He turns enough so that they’re looking at each other face to face before his eyes trail up Tomar’s face to the crest and the soft feathers there. “I know what it meant.”
“What it meant…? I’m confus—oh.” There’s a slight darkening under Tomar’s eyes and around his beak. “I, oh, you shouldn’t overthink it, Hal. I know you weren’t aware when you…” The blush grows darker, beak opening up more as Hal leans closer while slowly lifting one of his hands.
Neither of them are wearing their masks.
“I want to,” Hal sighs, blushing himself, “I mean. Can I?”
Tomar-Re swallows, beak clicking as he trips over his reply. “A-are you sure?” When Hal nods, he quickly adds, “Just. We are so… different. Biologically. Different species, with different needs and…”
Humming a little, Hal’s fingertips gently tap behind Tomar’s ears. So close to the crest. “If you don’t want me to, I… I’ll understand. Or if you just want to try it out once out of curiosity, I get it, I don’t mind. But if you think this is too much, we can still be friends. Right?”
“Y-yes, of course, Hal, just,” Tomar breathes in, visibly steeling himself. He also lifts a hand, the one that’s been on the other’s knee this whole time, to place it on Jordan’s cheek. “I’ve been reading up on humans, too.”
Any doubt, any lingering reason to hesitate, is completely shattered at that moment. Mouth breaking into a grin that’s probably a bit ugly and goofy, Hal waggles his eyebrows. He goes ahead and makes sure his touch is soft as he brushes Tomar-Re’s crest with the tips of his fingers, stroking the base of the feathers at the very front before moving to the back, where the feathers morph into a fin with a texture similar to a dolphin’s skin. Or what he imagines touching a dolphin feels like.
“Yeah?” He chuckles, enjoying how his simple touch is making the seasoned Green Lantern break into shivers, how he’s closing his eyes and tilting his head closer to Hal’s hand. “I gotta warn you, I got one up on you.”
Tomar sighs, thumb stroking across Hal’s cheekbone as his other hand rests right under the ribs. “How so?”
This is it—all or nothing. “I think it’s best if I show you.”
—
Kissing someone with a beak instead of a mouth is definitely an experience that never gets old. Falling into bed with Tomar-Re whenever they have free time never gets old, either.
One part of Hal feels as though he should be getting spooked by how well things are going, how easily they click with one another despite the fact that they are as different as they come. Tomar-Re is calm, is understanding and comprehending, always taking the time to think things through, while Hal is rash, loud, aggressively impulsive. Not to mention that the only other relationship he’s ever had that lasted as long is his continuous on-and-off one with Carol, which seems to now be firmly on the ‘off’ phase. It doesn’t help that she can tell something’s different with him, that while still reckless he’s a bit more grounded, that he looks and acts like he’s happy.
But who wouldn’t be happy with someone like Tomar-Re as their lover?
It’s as though these days there’s always reason enough for Hal to smile both as Hal Jordan and Green Lantern. Tomar’s taken to find different ways of sneaking into Earth and Hal’s bed, even if it’s not always to ‘mate’ (as Tomar calls it) but just to hold each other while they fall asleep together. Being trans is also no deterrent for the xudarian. Initial scientific curiosity has given way to appreciation and adoration, and Tomar keeps on researching human customs and anatomy to make sure Hal unofficially breaks the record for ‘most sexually satisfied human’ in history.
The question of their reproductive compatibility is one they simply don’t consider. The odds are extremely low. (But never zero.)
Hal likes to believe his ever-shitty Jordan luck is changing. There are other heroes on Earth popping up in different cities, and he’s had the opportunity to both meet and team up with some of them. Flash, scarlet and quick on his feet, is the one he hangs out with the most, though he’s taking notes on someone who goes by the name of Superman in Metropolis. The ring has already told him that man isn’t human, but the last surviving kryptonian. He just doesn’t know yet how he’s going to approach him. Is ‘hey, your home planet blowing up sure sucks’ a bad way to start a conversation?
Which is why he’s unprepared for the way his heart breaks when Sinestro betrays not just the corps, but also—him. His mentor, his best friend, attacks the Green Lantern Corps and expects Hal to just, to just join him. His fucking best friend has been a dictator to his home planet all this time, keeping it hidden from everyone, and Hal, Hal was about to come out to him, he was about to tell him everything, that he and Tomar-Re are, that, that he’s…
Hal stops him. Hal turns him in.
Tomar-Re conducts the trial against Sinestro. The Guardians decide to strip him of the ring and his title before banishing him to a far-away prison.
Just like that, all their fates are set.
—
It was supposed to be just another mission. Just another assignment. The previous night before leaving they had been talking about telling others, starting with Kilowog. They had discussed how the Guardians might react, how they might find a way to convince them that the no fraternization among Corps members rule is useless, and has no merit. They are the best example of that. Being together has never stopped them from doing the right thing. (Hal being so close to Sinestro did not stop him from doing what needed to be done.)
It was… It was supposed to be…
He’s by the training fields, watching the latest batch of rookies as they struggle with Kilowog’s regimen. He’s laughing, remembering when it had been him sweating blood as he worked to become the Lantern he is today. He’s laughing, momentarily forgetting the queasy feeling he had woken up with earlier that morning, how he had rushed to the bathroom to throw up the previous night’s dinner, and everything is so fucking normal that he would’ve missed it if it hadn’t flown right past his face.
A ring.
A ring, coming back without its wearer.
Hal recognizes its warmth. They had switched rings once. More like, Hal had put on Tomar’s ring and Tomar had held him face down on the bed while he was wearing it, and they—
Bile rushes up his throat, flooding his mouth. He has no choice but to swallow it back down, he has to lock his knees to make sure he doesn’t fall and break apart on the floor because no one knows, no one knows, they were about to come out, they had been talking about it, and xudarians aren’t usually in monogamous relationships but Tomar-Re had told him he wanted to try, he wanted to give that to him, that he, he, he loved him, he loved him and he saw a future where they changed things, they were meant to change things. Tomar-Re said he loves him. Hal.
Hal said it back,
Hal said it back, except that’s Tomar-Re’s ring flying back to the Guardians. Tomar-Re, who went on a solo assignment to deep, deep space, a recruitment mission, to pick up would-be rookies, it was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be safe. Tomar-Re can defend himself. Tomar-Re is one of the strongest Green Lanterns out there. Tomar-Re had said I love you, Hal Jordan, and Hal Jordan had said I love you too right back.
The Guardians review the ring’s last memory. Kilowog, Salakk, Ch’p, G’hu and Hal stand in the chambers as they all look at the footage and Hal is one second away from letting his guts out his mouth all over the floor.
“It’s as I feared,” Ganthet speaks up when no one else does, his face somber, darkened by grief and regret. “Sinestro has come back and declared himself our enemy.”
Hal knows he himself doesn’t say anything, and his head is too full of noise to truly listen to what the others are saying. He must still appear to be put together and attentive since no one calls him out on it. In truth, most of what he’s doing is recounting all his last moments with Tomar-Re, their last night spent together, and then he’s thinking of earlier that morning, of how he woke up, of the odd but persistent ache in his lower back and how his chest has been feeling sore lately. It paints one picture he doesn’t want to consider—it was supposed to be an almost impossible thing. They’re different species. He’s trans. He’s perpetually on testosterone treatments. Sure, being on T does not constitute an actual method to avoid pregnancy, but being so biologically different should’ve rendered it to almost zero chances of this happening.
Almost.
Fuck. Fuck.
As soon as the meeting is over, having managed to calm down enough to pay attention close to the end of it, Hal finds a strong enough reason to be excused back to Earth. Saying that he’s definitely Sinestro’s next target and Earth is at risk for that reason worked too well, because the Guardians told him he will only be called back for emergencies until they manage to apprehend their now enemy. It’s perfect, though, because now Hal has all the time to acquire a test and go to his bathroom where he pees in a plastic cup and then stares at it until the test is done. By the time the two pink lines pop up, Hal’s already worked his way through his shock. Next order of business is to bury his grief as deep down as possible.
He can’t afford the energy he’ll lose crying. He doesn’t have the time to sit and mourn and break apart to then slowly put himself back together again. He can’t stop. The threat, as useful as an excuse it was, is real, only made worse by the last part of Tomar-Re he’s now carrying inside him.
The thought of terminating the pregnancy pops up late at night, when he’s struggling to fall asleep and keeps burying his face in the pillow Tomar-Re prefers. It would make everything easier. One less thing to worry about. One less risk. But—no. No, he can’t, he realizes he doesn’t want to, because he’s in love as much as it hurts him to admit it. He loves Tomar-Re. He loves Tomar-Re as much as he has always loved Carol, he loves in that way he does, one that doesn’t let him move on, that has him always remembering, always obsessing, always thinking of ways to make the people he loves proud and happy despite them not being there anymore. He loves with all his heart, and his heart doesn’t know how to give up. He loves, and his love is final.
He’s got one hand cradling his stomach. With the traces of Tomar-Re’s scent in the pillow he’s holding against his face, Hal can trick himself into thinking that’s Tomar’s hand on his body. In the end, just an hour before sunrise, Hal Jordan falls asleep alone in his bedroom.
—
Despite the Green Lantern suit being so form fitting, Hal’s got Carol’s confirmation that he’s definitely not showing even if he’s three months along. He had been forced to tell her everything, even if he initially hadn’t wanted to, because after the first week of unending morning sickness he realized he wouldn’t be able to survive this alone. He needs—he needs help. He can’t go to Jack, and least of all to Jim, but Carol has always been there for him, and Carol might hate him a little but she loves in a way so similar to Hal that they end up seeing eye to eye.
Three months. Three months, and he still avoids his own gaze when he looks in the mirror. He had to pause his testosterone treatment for the sake of the pregnancy, so his reflection is playing tricks on him. Some parts of his body are growing soft despite his continuous training. His chest is fuller, tender, and there’s the swelling in his lower stomach that in a month will definitely turn into an obvious baby bump. Right now it’s easy enough to pass off as having simply eaten too much, so he has a bit more time to worry about how he’s supposed to keep it hidden both from the world, and from—
The full body shield starts cracking, letting rays of yellow light seep through. Hal curses under his breath, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. He reinforces the shield around his torso. He pushes back, and the cracks grow bigger, but he’s ready to dodge out of the way, using the shattering of the construct as diversion while he wills a giant green baseball bat to send Sinestro flying through the atmosphere. Again.
“Give up, Jordan!” Sinestro laughs at him, adding more power to his attack. “You’re useless against me! I’ve always been the superior one!”
“At being fucking ugly!” Hal yells back, straining his teeth. Just a bit more. Just a little bit more and he can—the crack right along the center grows too big. It’s going to explode. He needs to dodge, he needs to brace for the shock wave and keep his stomach safe and.
Hal blinks.
There’s no explosion. Weirdly enough, he’s in someone’s arms, flying way too fast away from Sinestro.
“Wh,” he looks up and breaks into shivers. “Superman?”
The man isn’t smiling. Hal has only ever known him with a smile on his face. He’s frowning instead, stupid curl on his forehead whipping back in the wind as he speeds up just a little more. Behind them, still too far away but definitely chasing after them, is Sinestro.
“You shouldn’t be fighting anyone in your state,” Superman says. His hands squeeze him a little bit too tightly.
“In my—what do you mean, in my state? Do you want me to, to, lead him to another state? What?”
Finally Superman looks back at him, and his expression is definitely that of someone who is frustrated. “I meant in your current condition!” His voice is too loud. Hal cringes, but he still makes sure to shoot hard light green constructs over Superman’s shoulder for Sinestro to deal with. “I can hear it. The second heartbeat.”
Which is when Hal loses his focus and all his constructs go up in thin air.
“What.”
No. No one knows. No one but Carol knows, and no one else was supposed to know, and.
“Breathe, please,” Superman tells him, curling his arms to hold Hal closer to his chest. “It’s okay, I’ll keep you safe.”
Hal swallows. He’s getting the distinct feeling that he’s about to puke.
“Put me down,” he says, shaking. “Put me the fuck down!”
“You can’t go back to fighting him,” he’s frowning again, but he does slow his speed a little, enough for Sinestro to be discernible behind them. “You’re putting your baby at risk!”
“Shut up!” Hal’s starting to panic a little. Superman probably means well (probably), but he’s so loud and Sinestro should definitely not hear. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! No one knows! Fuck!”
“Oh,” the man blinks, moving out of the way of a yellow beam. Hal envies his speed a little. “You don’t want him to know.”
“Duh!” He raises his hand to encase them in a green bubble. Thaal’s now close enough, and the bubble is going to give them enough privacy for at least a minute.
“JORDAN,” he rages, blasting beam after beam against the barrier. “I’M NOT LETTING YOU RUN AWAY!”
“I’m sorry,” Superman does look contrite enough while gently letting go of Hal who has to physically restrain himself from cupping his stomach. “I didn’t think that through. I wanted to help you, and then when I heard the heartbeat…”
“Fine,” perhaps it’s a bit too bitchy of him to snap like that, but Hal thinks he can’t be blamed for it. Being pregnant is quite the excuse for a bad attitude. “You can help. But no talking about… my state.”
“I can do that,” he promises way too eagerly, with the need a golden retriever has to please. “I can most definitely do that.”
“Good,” Hal pats him on the shoulder. Superman’s… taller than him. He’d have to float up a little to reach his head. “Well then. Let’s stop my asshole ex-mentor.”