Chapter Text
Hal Jordan should really know better than think that his day off would go smoothly. That’s asking too much.
No, on his off day, Batman pages Green Lantern for a Cthulu-type creature wrecking havoc on Tampa, Florida. According to the Justice League Dark, the creature was summoned by an idiotic mage trying to harness the power of a Lovecraftian creature. As if that would ever go well.
So, on his off day, Hal resigns himself to activating his ring and shooting off at speeds barely below g-force to Florida. Other hero groups are just starting to arrive, with the Bio-Ship dropping several members of Young Justice out of the sky and directly onto the creature and the Batplane landing just outside city limits, with a few Gotham vigilantes emerging.
On a shared comm line, Batman hands out orders: Young Justice is to distract the creature until Signal–a Gotham vigilante–and the Green Lanterns can step in, at which point, everyone else is to focus on evacuation. When the magic users get into the city, they are to track down the mage responsible and suppress his power. At this point, Zatanna cuts into the orders, stating that, should the suppression not dismiss the creature, they would have to find the summoning circle, and to keep an eye out for it.
It’s a bad day off. The heroes fight from dawn to dusk and a little beyond. The mage’s power suppression does not dismiss the creature. The heroes quickly realize that distracting the creature doesn’t work unless they do outright harm. The circle is found under the water, so Hal ends up diverging from the fight to bring a magic user to the bottom of the seafloor without them having to focus on a water breathing spell. Then, to make matters more exhausting, they have to lure the creature closer to the circle so that, once it’s been inverted, the creature gets sucked through the first time.
By the end of the day, Hal feels slimy, wet, and fucking exhausted. He hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, determined to sleep in. He was starving. He needs a fucking shower. As soon as he made it to the Watchtower, he crashed on a couch and set an alarm for twenty minutes so he could close his eyes.
His dozing was interrupted by the sound of whispers through the doorway to the kitchen.
“C’mon Nightwing, breathe. In, 2, 3, 4, 5; hold; 2, 3, 4, 5; and out, 2, 3, 4, 5.”
The breathing exercise went on for another few minutes, during which time Hal leaned over and turned off his alarm. Sue him, he’s nosey. The sound of quiet sobbing starts, making Hal suddenly debate leaving when the voices start up again.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Honey?
“I got there so late,” Nightwing says, sounding utterly destroyed. “And when I did, the first thing I see is Wally being thrown into a wall.”
Hal winces. He remembers distantly hearing about that on comms, with Batman ordering an immediate evacuation for the speedster to get to the Watchtower infirmary.
“That’s not your fault, and you know it,” says the voice that Hal only distantly recognizes. Definitely not one of the main Justice League team, maybe one of the sidekick teams?
Whatever Nightwing says next is too quiet for Hal to hear.
“It’s okay that you weren’t: he got help in time. He is okay.”
Silence falls over the room for the next few minutes, only occasionally interrupted with a hiccup from Nightwing.
“Do you want to go talk to your aunt? I’m sure she’ll make time for you.”
Nightwing must respond with a nod, “atta boy, go to my office and lock the door, you know my computer login. No one will disturb you and I’ll let your dad know where you went.”
Hal pretends to be asleep as Nightwing passes through the living area, and is followed immediately after by a pair of footsteps at a more relaxed pace.
“Green Lantern,” the voice says, soft as if to wake a sleeping person. Which he is definitely supposed to be.
Acting appropriately groggy, Hal opens his eyes, squinting at the bright lights above him. He looks up to see a middle-aged man with black hair, white streaks scattered throughout in a way that suggests something other than age. Bright blue eyes with a ring of neon green surrounding his pupil, and a medical face mask covering the lower half of his face.
The lead JLA engineer was just comforting Nightwing.
In all of his years of employment (with the founding of the League), he had never shown his face while on the tower, stating plausible deniability for both heroes and himself. Had never revealed a true name either, instead choosing to go by Phantom.
He was renowned throughout the station for his high intellect, able to solve any mechanical issue in just a few hours. He would take things apart and put them back together again, but better. He was one of Cyborg’s primary doctors, having the technological know-how to fix any virus or wiring issue that made its way into his body. Hell, the man had been given blatant permission to fuck around on the batplane.
And he was holding a plate out with sandwiches and a gatorade in another hand. Hal felt his face screw up in confusion, looking up at the man again.
“My treat to you all. Just ham and cheese sandwich, and you gotta get some electrolytes in you. The speedsters have their own cache of food I brought for them, so eat up.”
Hal hesitantly takes the offered food and drink, watching the man cautiously.
“How do you know Nightwing?” He finds himself asking, desperately wishing a moment later that he had just stuffed mouth with the delectable-smelling sandwich.
If Phantom is surprised Hal was listening in, he doesn’t show it. “He’s a gothamite, I’m a gothamite, gothamites stick together.”
Hal desperately wants to ask more questions, but elects to eating his food instead. And holy fuck, Phantom may just be his new favorite person on the Watchtower. He says as much between bites, earning him a laugh as Phantom walks away.
...Hopefully someone else knows what that was about.