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The drive was silent. John hadn't even opened the radio, to let some music at least soothe some of his pain.
He was feeling the grief settle in his bones. Sure, he now had the ring and lantern, had put fucking Gardner in his place and become the protector of Earth in his place.
Still, he missed the annoying presence to his right. He missed Hal desperately.
He missed the younger version of him, who'd told him he loved him and then vanished forever. But he also desperately missed the older Hal, with his bad jokes and insufferable attitude.
With his peppered hair and the lines John had come to know sort of well.
There was a part of John that was missing, had been for years. Probably since Hal's imprisonment.
He felt fulfilled, had even when he was an architect. Now too, as the new Green Lantern. But still it gnawed at him that he missed desperately the one person who'd known him more than anyone else. It wasn't much, but Hal had cracked some of his walls.
John drives and cannot stop thinking of Hal, of all the details that made him up.
Those downturned eyes that could bore into yours with such softness or mischief. The crowfeet at the end of his eyes, the lines on his forehead. The slightly crooked nose from too many fights. The lips that pulled into that smirk.
And that jacket he'd always wear, with his sleeves always too long, over his hands. Some nameless popstar popped into his head at that image.
He smiled, as the road stretched in front of him, not noticing the slight hum from the ring.
"Oh, fuck. Where the hell am I?" a voice curses from behind, groaning in pain.
John almost swerves the car off the road with how harshly he presses the brakes. Because that voice. It was so familiar.
And yes, when he looked through the mirror, there he was. Hal Jordan in the flesh, clutching at his head with trembling hands.
He looked so pale and when his hand came down from his forehead, John could see a faint mark there. The gunshot.
It made bile rise up his throat, but he held himself in check.
His voice, though, came out more raspy than intended, so much emotion slipping through. "Hal? Are you... real?"
"Of course I'm fucking real, Junior. Argh, what happened? I don't remember... it was, I was at the football stadium, talking to Kerry and then..."
"You died man," John responds, gritting his teeth. "She shot you. She felt terrible about it, if it's any consolation."
Last time he'd seen Kerry, just hours prior, it seemed like that constant weight she carried had lightened. She still mourned and grieved, had sunken eyes that probably wouldn't get fixed with a couple nights of good sleep.
Still, she was stronger. Much stronger than them because she carried this burden instead of dragging it behind her like a chainball.
"She... what?" Hal asks. His eyes are misty and he stares at John. "Then how am I here?" He clutches at his head again and lets out a cry of agony.
"I don't know. Something must've happened... you shouldn't be alive. But... Sinestro did say something. About bringing you back, with the new lantern he forged," John muses.
"Sinestro? That bastard, he—" but Hal stops in any tirade he might've started and leans against the window. He's all sprawled on the backseat. "So you brought me back Junior," he grins. It looks more like a grimace, but he doesn't stop even when John gives him a pointed look.
"We don't know that. We'll figure it out when we reach a motel for the night," John decides.
"Anything interesting happen while I was gone, Junior?" Hal asks much later, when the silence that had settled stretched so thin one of them had to break it.
And what could John tell him? That so much had. But the only thing that he could see before his eyes was Halogram telling him he loved him too, begging almost for John to say it first.
With those puppy dog eyes, so stricken by fear and sadness at his short existence.
John had shared the sentiment. Still did. Even with this resurrected Hal on his backseat.
"Yeah, man. A lot of shit happened," he says and swallows hard.
"Well, we've got all day — well, night."
Hal sounds cheery. Despite the pain he probably still feels at suddenly being yanked back to life, he's grinning. Cracking jokes.
John thinks this is how he should always be, with a heart heavied by the last few days.