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You're not sure what initially prompted you to seek her out. Jealousy? Solidarity? Pettiness? Whatever the case, seated across from Carol Ferris in a hole-in-the-wall diner, you're starting to realise that you've gravely miscalculated.
Because Carol is gorgeous.
She hadn't been the reason whatever had been between you and Hal had fizzled out, no, that honour you could bestow upon the man in question all by himself. But if it had been, well, you don’t think you’d blame him.
You’re staring. Neither of you has really spoken yet, and while you realise it should be you, Carol beats you to the chase, arms crossed over her chest and brow raised.
“Scoping out the competition? Because I can assure you, Hal and I are through. You can have him.” She scoffs.
She’s an excellent liar, so good that you almost believe her, but you’ve made a living out of detecting lies and even if she doesn’t want to let herself believe it, you realise now that she’ll probably always love Hal, even just a little.
You shake your head, fingers curled around your already cooling cup of coffee that you’ve yet to touch.“That’s not it. I’m not here about him—well—Not like that. How did you even…”
“Saw the two of you on the news a while back, sharing a kiss in the background of a Superman interview.”
“Ah.” Your knee jiggles, you knew exactly the moment she was talking about. You’d nearly crucified him for that. Making your not quite relationship global knowledge.
“Okay.” She drawls, still slightly on the defensive, “Then what did you want to meet me for?”
“I think—” you pause, still unsure why you’d wanted to meet her in the first place, but suddenly sure of what you wanted from now, “I think I’d like to be your friend, Carol.”
She blinks, clearly taken aback. The silence settles once more, her brows still drawn inwards as she stares at you, searching for any ill intent.
Whatever she finds in your awaiting smile must be good enough, because she nods. “Fine. You can start by paying for my breakfast.”
Your lips curl into something more genuine as you laugh, “yes ma’am.”
Carol's a tough nut to crack, but that's fine; you're nothing if not persistent.
Pathetic men and powerful women, your two types. Carol was assertive; she had to be, clawing for respect in a field dominated by men who looked down on anything in a skirt and heels, and you'd be lying if you didn't admire her for it.
After you exchanged numbers, occasional texts turned into daily messages, then casual lunches, then dinners, then Carol inviting you to her place, which was much nicer than yours.
Stilted conversations and shared commiserations over Hal flowed into something more genuine, until he wasn't brought up at all anymore. You'd ask after her day every day without fail, eagerly listening as she ranted about her frustration with the latest idiot in the business sphere.
A glass of wine that was nicer than anything you could feasibly splurge on in your hand, you watch as she paces back and forth on the carpet, hands animated and gesticulating, smile hidden behind the rim of the glass.
“Want me to rough him up for you?”
Carol groaned, collapsing on the couch next to you, the action causing her pencil skirt to ride up plush thighs a little, and you mentally reward yourself for managing to tear your eyes away from the sight. “Yes. No, ugh—why are men so infuriating?”
You set your glass down, slide closer on the couch, and motion for her to turn around. She does so without question, melting into your touch with a grateful groan as you start to work out the tension in her neck and shoulders. “Because they're men? Wish I had a better answer for you, hon.”
The massage barely lasts a minute before your left arm spasms, forcing you to bite back a pained hiss as pain lances down to your fingertips, hand suddenly cramping. Carol notices anyway, whipping around with fire in her eyes as she stares at you accusingly.
“You told me you weren't hurt.” Her brows are drawn inward, mouth cutting an impressive scowl as she dares you to lie to her.
“I'm not. Not really, just a mild strain.”
“You better not be lying to me.” One hand clenches the fabric of her skirt so hard her muscles start to tremble. “I know you were in Metropolis today.”
Reaching out, you take her hand in yours, thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand. “I was nowhere near Doomsday; well, I didn't fight Doomsday. I was on civilian evacuation; the floor collapsed on this elderly lady, and I strained a muscle catching her suddenly.”
Carol studies you, tension lining her frame. It was the one point of contention in your friendship. You might not be a Lantern, jetting off to space every other day, but you were still a vigilante, putting yourself at risk every other day.
The silence lingers, heavy and pressing solidly down on your shoulders before her face crumples and her other hand moves to cover yours. “Here I am complaining about my day when you—” Her voice catches. “Are you okay?”
Such a simple question, and yet, it catches you off guard. “I'm—” Your knee-jerk reaction is to shrug off her concern, to paste an easy smile on your face and go about your evening as if nothing is wrong.
There's a strange burning in your throat as it suddenly gets a little harder to breathe, Carol's hand in yours the only thing keeping you tethered as the image of a small, lifeless body half crushed beneath the debris of an apartment complex. Your teeth clench, heavily exhaling from your nose as an ugly, wounded sob threatens to burst forth.
Warm fingers cup your cheek, startling you back to the present moment, blue eyes shining with concern and much closer than before. Her knee brushes your thigh, fingers of her left hand now entwined with yours.
“What's wrong? What do you need me to do?” You've never heard her sound so panicked. Carol's always been so sturdy, so sure of herself.
“Just—this—keep talking, please.” Your voice cracks, and you fall forward, forehead resting on her shoulder to hide your face.
Carol stills before she hums, a hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. “Did I tell you about Eric?”
“Dipshit Eric? Whas'he done this time?”
“Oh, don't get me started!” Her voice heats up again, prompting a small smile as the clawing, writhing panic that threatened to overwhelm you seconds ago dissipates as you cling to the sound of her voice.
Carol has you stay the night, making up her guest room that has a bed ten times comfier than yours. Despite this, with your aching muscles and the lingering exhaustion from the worst day you'd had in a while, you struggle to fall asleep.
Tossing and turning before you ultimately stare at the ceiling in defeat, because fuck, you think you're a little bit in love with Carol.
It's pathetic. You've always fallen so unhealthily fast. It had happened with Hal, and you're not sure whether to laugh or cry at the thought that it's now happened with your ex's ex.
What was wrong with you?
Bringing the fancy, silk pillowcase-covered pillow over your face, you nearly scream. Maybe, if you were lucky enough, you'd suffocate, and then you wouldn't have to deal with it anymore.
You try to stay casual about it. You can keep it together over texts and even phone calls, but the times you meet up in person, increasingly at Carol's house, become an exercise in focus the likes of which you'd not exhibited since you'd been paired against Canary for combat training.
She still left you bruised in a pathetic heap on the sparring mat, and spending time with Carol was beginning to feel more and more like that. You're pretty sure Carol's only ever dated men; there'd never been any stories about past girlfriends or flings, you would have noticed.
But you swear she sits closer to you on the couch now, her perfume tickling your nose and her thigh brushing yours. You like to think you're funny, but you seem to make her laugh even more now, and you swear you've caught her gaze flickering down to your lips before.
Carol's started to occupy your thoughts at the most inopportune moments. It's what you'd blame for Hal managing to take you by surprise, a gentle hand circling your wrist from behind and pulling you into a room. A brief flash of green lets you know who's grabbed you, but before you can even react, his lips are on yours as he lets out a satisfied exhale.
You freeze, startled, especially when the hand that cradles your cheek does so tenderly, just as gentle as the kiss, almost reverent. Far from the normal fiery kisses he'd give that would leave you squirming and dizzy. This is somehow worse.
“Hal—” You pull back, eyes wide and stomach churning, voice traitorously wavering as you instinctively scan him over. “What the hell?”
He looks rough, tired, even behind the domino mask that fades away, and your heart clenches at the deep sadness there. His face is unshaven, and there's a cut on his cheek that's starting to turn green around the edges.
“I missed you.” His voice is hoarse, hands moving to clutch your shoulders as if to prove to himself that you're real and standing in front of him. “The second I left, I wanted to turn around and apologise, take it all back. Thinking about you, about how I needed to make things right was the only thing that kept me going these past months. I—I love you. I'm so sorry I was too much of a coward to say it before. Truth is, I knew you were way too good for a broken man like me. Heard some of the younger Leaguers talking about it, how someone like you deserved so much better than a mass murderer, and I got too in my head, decided you'd be better off without me. Turns out, I'm too selfish to live without you now that I've had a taste.”
“Hal—” You repeat, voice strained as you try not to burst into tears. Had this been even a month ago, you'd have probably jumped into his arms. Rushed to comfort him, as you'd always done after the nightmares, even if you didn't love him, you desperately want to speak up. To tell him that he's wrong, that if nothing else, he'd always been worthy of your love.
But it's like you've forgotten how to speak, even as you shake your head and you tremble. You feel as if your entire world has come crashing down, because not two seconds ago you were so sure you were in love with Carol, so why did you still feel something for Hal?
You think you might be sick. You don't know what to do; this has never happened to you before, and all at once, every snide and hurtful comment you'd ever endured from both bigots and people who were supposed to be part of your community rang loud and clear in your mind.
Reeling and unsure what you're supposed to do, a horrible, horrible part of you can't help but wish Hal had just stayed away.
“Hal, I don't—it's been four months!” You're rapidly approaching the realm of hysteria, your entire worldview shifting to accommodate this new reality. “I thought you—” You can't even finish the sentence through the lump in your throat.
He looks shattered, but almost as if he'd expected your reaction, and it makes the guilty nausea roiling in your gut all that much worse.
“Is there—can I ask—is there someone else? If there is, I'll leave you alone, I swear, but if not, I'm going to fight for you. I know I hurt you. I know I don't deserve it, but I swear, baby, on my ring, I'll make it up to you.”
It's hot. Your palms are slick with sweat, and you want nothing more than to disappear into the floor.
“I—” You clear your throat, tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips. “No, there's not—not like that, but—”
“But?” Hal clings to the word with the desperation of a starving man, looking himself like you'd ripped his heart out and stomped on it, which is just so fucking unfair.
How dare he come back and do this to you now?
How dare your heart still hold such love for him?
“I'm not seeing anyone, but there's someone—I don't even know if she'll ever—” You scrunch your eyes shut for a few seconds, forcing yourself to take a few deep, grounding breaths. When you open your eyes once more, he's closed the distance you hadn't even noticed you'd put between you.
Slowly, he reaches for you, and when you show no indication of pulling away, he grips your shaking hands with his. Just when you think that's it, he speaks with a surprisingly calm voice. “All I'm hearing is that there's a chance.”
You bite your lip, words and actions failing because suddenly you're not strong enough to tell him he's wrong. You don't know if he is.
“I meant what I said. Whoever the lucky woman who's captured your attention is, I hope she's ready to fight, because this—” he lifts your palm and presses it against his chest, just over his heart. “Belongs to you.”
He says it with so much conviction. With a gravitas you don't think you've ever heard from him before.
“What about Carol?” The words are blurted before you can think better of it, and Hal stills, staring at you searchingly.
“What about Carol?” He parrots with a confused frown, almost as if you're the strange one for bringing up the ex everyone was so certain he'd always love. The woman you love. “Listen to me, a part of me has loved Carol for a long time. I thought I always would, but she's not you.”
You can't help but scoff disbelievingly at that, because Carol is everything, and a strange part of you is offended on her behalf, even if the other part swells with love because that's all you've ever wanted to hear from him.
“No, listen to me.” His voice is firm now, gaze burning and unyielding. “At this point in my life, it's you. I'd choose you every time, in a heartbeat.”
“Hal.” You're definitely crying now, and his hands quickly slide to cup your cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears.
“Please don't cry, sweetheart, not over me.” He continues holding you until the shuddering breaths die down, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Hal lingers, inhaling the scent and relishing holding you close in case it's the last time.
“I'll give you some space.” He whispers, letting you go with painful reluctance.
The second the door clicks shut behind him, you nearly fall to your knees, hand cupping your mouth like it'll prevent anyone from hearing your cries.
You don't even realise you're at Carol's until you're seated on the edge of her mattress, her hands in yours as she stands before you with unmitigated concern, bordering on panic, plastered across her face.
“Carol?” Your voice is hoarse from crying, forcing you to cough a few times to try and rid yourself of the uncomfortable sensation. The confusion you're exhibiting is no doubt not helping her on the panic front, but your mind is still so scrambled, and it's with a bit of alarm you realise you don't remember the journey to her house, let alone knocking on her door.
It's hardly the first time Carol's seen you cry. More than once she'd been your rock on the days when you weren't fast enough, strong enough to save everyone. So you must make for a truly alarming sight to have her so worried.
“What's wrong? Do I need to contact someone from the League?” For a few seconds, you don't answer, simply drinking her in. Something she clearly doesn't appreciate, because your silence only seems to distress her even more.
“That's it, I'm calling—” You catch her wrist, her eyes following the movement before darting back to your face.
“Hal's back.” It's all you can manage right now, and Carol's face shutters with something you swear looks like annoyance before it settles once more in a heavy frown.
“What did he say? I swear I'll kill him.” She's actually seething now, and you wonder if the images she's conjuring up of your reunion with Hal come from experience.
“No, he—” You hesitate, wanting to curl into yourself at the intensity in Carol's gaze. “He told me he loves me.”
Neither of you moves, locked in the moment, gazing at each other. Try as she might, Carol can't hide the hurt and what looks to be acceptance on her face, and you want to start sobbing all over again because if there was ever confirmation she was still in love with Hal, it was just then.
The sound of an engine roaring down the street shatters the fragile quiet, but neither of you so much as move an inch to look out the window.
“I see.” She clears her throat, ripping her hands out of yours.
“Carol!” The exclamation is raw, desperate enough that you both still once more. Her eyes wide and yours pleading. For what? You're not entirely sure.
“Do you love him?” It's almost biting, her arms crossed beneath her chest in a way that would usually have you feeling like the biggest perv and worst friend alive, but now it only hurts.
You hesitate, unsure how you're possibly supposed to answer when you can barely make heads or tails of your own feelings, but then she rolls her eyes and once the words slip through your lips, they don't stop. “I do.”
“Then why are you—” She's nearly hissing now, face undeniably hurt, and you want nothing more than to never see that expression again.
“I didn't say it back! He asked if I was seeing someone. I told him no, but that there was—” You pause, because the words you're about to say can't be undone, and there's a chance you're about to ruin everything you have with Carol, but you can't hold it in anymore. “That there was a woman I—I didn't say love, but I think he knew what I meant, and—”
You don't get the opportunity to stop speaking. At some point during your attempted confession, you'd averted your gaze, not wanting to see the rejection, so you hadn't noticed Carol closing the distance until she was kissing you, one hand cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward as the other curled around your neck.
Unlike with Hal earlier, your eyelids flicker shut, and you quickly reciprocate. She lets out an approving noise that has heat curling in your gut, and suddenly you're on your back, Carol crawling over you, never once breaking the kiss.
It's only when her lips start to trail kisses down your jaw and neck that you freeze, reality splashing over you like ice water.
“Carol, I can't.” Gently, you push her away.
“Why not? Don't you love me?” Her walls are back up, and your world feels like it's ending all over again.
“I do.” You stress, caressing her cheek for a moment before you stand. “But I love Hal too, and I can't—I don't know what to do! I've never felt like this before.”
Your clothes are too tight. Too hot. You want to run. But you can't yet; you won't do that to Carol. “I just—can you give me some time to think? Please? I think I just need some time…to sort through some things.”
She doesn't answer for a few seconds, and you take it for rejection you deserved, starting to shuffle out of her bedroom. “I'll, um, I'll see myself out.”
“Wait!” She catches your wrist, spins you around, pulls you in for another kiss, and for a second you wonder if she's learned that from Hal. “I'll give you the week. But Hal said he'd fight? Then so will I.”
You're too dazed to move for a few seconds before you slowly nod as Carol escorts you to her front door.
A week.
The end of the week looms near, and you're even further from an answer. As if Carol and Hal had planned it behind your back, the two of them give you a few days before pulling out all the stops.
Romantic texts, letters, gifts. Invites to breakfast and dinner. Bringing you coffee and desserts, opening doors, pressing kisses to the back of your hand like you were some sort of royal in a fantasy novel.
How they haven't bumped into each other during these endeavours is nothing short of a miracle, and as your self-imposed deadline looms closer, you realise you probably should tell Hal just who he's competing with, but then he'll do something as simple as smile at you, and you forget how to so much as speak.
The end of the week arrives just in time for an invasion attempt of Earth. You'd almost be thankful for the intervention if you now weren't so sick with worry at the thought of anything happening to Hal or Carol.
Hal, it seems, feels the same, ignoring multiple orders in order to stay by your side. You should be furious with him, but the thought of not having him in your line of sight is enough to make you want to cry, so for once, you don't complain about his overprotectiveness.
The enemies are androids, and while many of your fellow vigilantes don't seem to mind cutting through them, guilt swells in your chest when you think of Reddy. Well, until one of them gets too close to Hal, and suddenly your sympathy evaporates.
You've been fighting for hours, reaching for your phone with each lull in battle, sending update texts to Carol and begging for some in return. Coast City, for once, has remained completely free from fighting, but you didn't trust that it would stay that way.
You don't get to see her reply before you're forced back into the fray, trying to ignore the way your left knee twinges with every step and your stamina's seriously flagging. Cutting your way through the swathes of enemies that just never seem to end, you make your way back to Hal; the relief you feel at seeing him still unharmed is replaced by horror in a second.
His ring's running low on charge, and he's just as tired as you. A deadly combination when he fails to notice the strike aimed at his unguarded back. Time slows; you call his name in warning, already sprinting as fast as your exhausted body can manage. Hal spins just in time to see you crash into his side, sending the two of you sprawling.
Fire dances across your ribcage, and you can't contain the pained cry as you collapse into him. Hal's fast enough to keep you both upright, enveloping you both in a green bubble and taking to the air as he holds you against him.
“Where are you hit?” Hal's voice is frantic. “Why would you do that?”
“Ribs. Was I supposed to just let you get hit?” You grit out, glancing down with a hiss to find a massive hole seared through your suit across your right side. You're not bleeding, but the skin has instantly bruised, and trying to touch it sends a wave of pain through your body that you can feel in your toes.
“Yes!” Hal exclaimed, shifting you, tone softening and letting out a string of apologies when you whine in pain.
“You're an idiot if you think I'd stand back and let you get hurt.”
Hal's jaw clenches, and just when you think he's going to argue some more, he closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours. “Never do that again.”
“I can't promise that, Hal.” Your voice is soft, pain suddenly secondary as Hal shudders against you.
“I thought—” His voice shudders, trembling fingers caressing your face.
Reaching up, you grab his forearms. “Hal, I—” Your sentence is drowned out by a sudden, deafening explosion, and you let out a yelp when Hal suddenly covers your body with his own despite the glowing shield encasing you.
There's a brief moment of silence afterwards; neither of you moves before Clark's crackly voice rings out through the League comms—they've destroyed most of the enemy ships, including the one remotely controlling most of the android foot soldiers.
The green shield surrounding you dissipates, and as you tear your gaze from the sky to look at Hal, he's already staring at you.
“I'm sorry, I know I said I'd give you space, but I can't help myself.” Before you can so much as ask, Hal's lips are on yours. Maybe it's the fading adrenaline of battle, the relief that you're both still alive, or maybe it's you finally admitting to yourself that you just love Hal too much to pull away, but this time, you kiss him back.
The kiss doesn't last long, Hal pulling away when you let out a small hiss of pain when you accidentally shift a little. “Sorry, sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No, it's just my ribs.” You try not to wince.
“Hal!” Both of you still at the furious voice, Hal spinning as you stare wide-eyed at the newcomer.
“Carol?” He murmurs, taking in the pink bodysuit clinging to her. You can't help but gape a little, both Carol and Hal, and given you their own accounts of the star sapphire, but they'd both somehow failed to mention how drop-dead gorgeous the suit made her.
“Wait, Carol, this isn't you; leave them out of this.” Hal starts to beg, only to be sent flying when, instead of attacking you, she goes after him.
“Carol!” At the call of her name, she materialises by your side in an instant, Hal long forgotten. “Carol, what, how?”
“I felt your pain. I came as fast as I could, my love.” She coos, reaching for you, only to be thwarted when green chains wrap around her body, immobilising her.
“Lantern!” She snarls, squirming in her bonds. “Release me!”
“So you can attack me again? What the hell, Carol? Someone better start explaining.”
“What's difficult for you to understand, Hal? You left, and I picked up the pieces of their heart.” She huffs proudly, looking far too smug for someone still restrained and dangling in the air.
Instead of turning to you for an explanation, Hal and Carol devolve into a squabbling argument like a pair of toddlers, and it's not until you see a bright pink, cartoonishly large mallet from above Hal's head that you get your mouth to cooperate enough to intervene.
“Stop! Both of you, just stop! I can't—Hal, put her down, Carol, stop attacking him!” With just a hint of reluctance, they both listen to you, shooting each other nasty glares until the sound of your sudden onset of tears has them abandoning the squabble to kneel in front of you.
“My love, what's wrong? Is it your injury? Let me see.”
“Whoa, hold on now, Pinky, if anyone's gonna take care of them, it's going to be me!”
Before things can devolve again, you grab one of their hands each. “Stop! Stop fighting over me.” You can't believe things have spiralled so rapidly; it's something straight out of a shitty soap, and yet, rubbing your eyes and wishing really hard doesn't make either of them disappear.
“I'm sorry.” You cry, feeling like the worst person alive. “I know I said I needed time, that I'd give you an answer, but I can't. I love you both, more than should be possible. I know it's not fair, but please don't make me choose.”
You can't bear to look at them. To see the disgust or disappointment in either of their gazes. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks; the soft sound of your cries is the only sound breaking the otherwise tense silence.
Had you looked up, you would have seen the silent conversation taking place in front of you. Expressed in furrowed brows and deepening scowls, until Carol's melodic voice filters into your ears and Hal's warm, gloved hand forces your face up to look at them. “We won't make you choose.”
“You… won't?” A small flicker of hope starts to burn in your chest as you stare at the two of them, waiting for someone to jump out and exclaim you've been punked.
“Neither of us is willing to lose you. So I suppose, Hal and I can learn to share.” Carol's voice is prim, but her gaze is soft and focused entirely on you. You turn to look at Hal then, barely daring to so much as breathe, for fear you'll ruin everything.
Hal just nods. “S'fine with me. I'll take whatever scraps you see fit to give me.”
It might be selfish of you, but a deep sense of relief settles in your gut as you allow yourself to think on the proposal. You suppose it wasn't entirely outlandish. Even if they'd both denied it, you're certain they still love each other a little. So maybe this could work.
You were willing to try at least.
Nodding, you let the two of them pull you to your feet, easily settling between them.
“Hands off, Hal!” Carol suddenly snapped, pulling you closer to her side. “They got hurt under your watch, so clearly you can't be trusted with their safety right now!”
“Excuse me? You weren't even here!” Hal's voice was incredulous, his hands snaking around your right bicep, but not pulling yet so as not to aggravate your injury, as the two of them glared at each other.
Or not.
But even as the two continue to make snide remarks at each other, you can't help but feel as if this is right, having both of them close like this, and truthfully, you've never felt so loved.