This is a possible twoshot in what will be a collection of all my Storm Hawks short ficlets. All of them are unconnected, and are therefore individually rated. I change the summary that appears on the Storm Hawks stories page to preview each newest short story. The status will stay complete even though I'm adding more because the ficlets are complete. I'm just adding installments as they occur.

Disclaimer: Storm Hawks and all the canon characters are not mine. The plots, new items, and any OCs that appear hereafter, however, are mine.

Summary: Starling is not as cool and collected as everyone thinks, and neither has she forgotten the Interceptors. On the contrary, she can't forget them. And there is another reason her heart never ceases to hurt...

Genre(s): Angst, romance.

Rated: T

Length: Probable twoshot.

Please r&r! Reviews (even flames, sometimes!) are so lifting to the spirits. I hope you enjoy!


Starling looked bleakly at the shield in her hands, freshly retrieved from Repton's wall. The purple insignia glittered mockingly at her in the light, taunting her with old memories.

-

"Come on, Sky Knight," dared a deep, playful voice. "Can't you keep up?"

A younger Starling snorted at his pathetic attempt at temerity. "Please, Kestrel. You haven't beaten me in a race once. There's a reason I passed the Knight's Trials at sixteen."

"Yeah- you bribed the judges!" he piped, and grinned, entirely pleased with himself for inventing such a clever response.

Starling chuckled and shook her head.

-

Now the memories switched focus.

-

A smoldering skimmer fell from the sky next to her. Starling shouted in agonizing dismay. No. Not Kestrel. He was too young!

But then a parachute bearing the purple Interceptor logo floated up from the smoke, and a defiantly grinning Kestrel gave her a thumbs up.

She saw Repton's three brothers swoop in, and prepared to do battle.

But just as she facilitated the last stooge's exit from the seat of his skimmer, she saw a furious Repton cruise in on his bone wing. He hissed at Starling in rage, for he knew her to be the instigator, but she was out of his range. She saluted mockingly, and fired a purple blast at one of the security towers to rub it in his face.

Repton cackled, ignoring this, for he had found a way to be revenged upon the upstart. He hurled his yellow energy boomerang with a powerful downwards cast.

The loss, the utter anguish that shot through her frame was twice as horrible as the first, because it was final. This time, Kestrel would not float up on a draft, grinning mischievously. The boomerang had caught his open, unprotected back- and ripped it open.

She did not notice in her blind torment as the tower turned and locked onto her skimmer. She did not even notice as she went plummeting to the ground, her skimmer's wing disintegrated. Unconsciousness enveloped her in merciful blackness as she struck the ground, hard.

-

The battle through the dense foliage was all too easily conjured back up. It was fraught with fear, torment, guilt, and frustration. The pain from her dislocated shoulder and her broken wrist did not reach her fogged mind for she was terrified- terrified that for some indescribable reason, that they were all gone; terrified that Repton had exercised his revenge to the fullest extent. Terrified that she was the last one.

Starling gripped her head in agony, lowering it to between her knees, rocking back and forth.

She remembered the uncertainty, but also the recognition that she had to completely know if they were truly dead, to see the wreckage.

And she'd seen it. She saw it still, for it was seared into her memory with a hot metal brand.

Tears streamed down her face. "Get a hold of yourself, Starling. Come on," she ordered fiercely.

These moments of desolation had become fewer and farther between in the two years since the obliteration of her team, but when they did attack they overtook her mind as dreadfully and violently as that very first time.

The loss came over her stealthily when she was alone and resting, creeping up on her consciousness just when she was at her weakest point. It said nothing at first, and she was always only subconsciously aware of its presence. Insidiously it wove its power into her brain as she tried to sleep, making not a move until its tendrils were spread throughout her psyche.

Then it struck brutally, sending her to her knees.

The memories swirled around in her head, torturing her. The guilt reared up its ugly head, and made her soul writhe.

These sessions lasted for hours, and left her shaking and weak. They were one of the reasons she refused extensive contact with others. The episodes were her problem, her responsibility, her burden. They were the price she had to pay.

And after the grief, in the aftermath of her palpitations, came the hate. The appalling, completely unacceptable desire to rend and tear Repton from limb to limb, slowly and painfully. It had taken all of her self control that day not to drag her Nunchucks through his fallen form, giving some of the agony she'd endured back onto him.

But she had stopped it. This she was eminently proud of, aware that she had channeled her hate that day into a constructive outlet, and that Aerrow had acquired the satisfaction of a job well done thanks to her. Now, she was paying for her success.

She shuddered as the images resurfaced again. She'd thought it had done. But no, not yet. It had not been long enough.

She lifted her mussed purple head. There was one who could help her. The one whose calm determination soothed her mind and made her careful façade of cool control less of a veneer.

But Aerrow was a Storm Hawk, and younger than her. It was doubtful that he ever would regard her in such a light.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, for a far different reason than before. The new ache made the twin emeralds- so similar to her love's own- to glisten and blur with grief.

Starling was caught in the past, unable to shake it off, frozen from enjoying the present, and banned from making the future she desperately wanted possible.

For she carried the legacy of the Interceptors through her skill and determination, reminding all of the fierce and loyal squadron that had lost their lives protecting the Atmos.

Starling smiled through her tears, her amethyst locks framing her pale face in a messy halo. Yes, she carried the legacy of the Interceptors. That was why she would never be a Storm Hawk, why she would never join a new squadron. She had the burden and the honor of carrying the memories of her six lost teammates, and she would carry it for the rest of her life.

But how much longer could she bear it alone?


There you have it- my second fic, first oneshot/twoshot, and my first attempt in the Storm Hawks category.

PLEASE review- I so superbly appreciate it!