Author's notes: Are you guys ready for some wrenching of the heart? Because I'm not. This fic has been crashing together since I watched the finales for both Green Lantern: The Animated Series and Young Justice, a few weeks apart. I had to review a couple of the scenes to make sure I got details right, and ended up in tears. DANGIT.

I probably should put some more notes in here or something. But I just wanna get this show on the road. Hi-ho!

Warnings: Character death. Mac'n'cheese (this will make sense later).

The Batcave

February 18, 03:21 EST

Nine years ago

Robin dropped heavily onto one of the benches located around the perimeter of the platform. He put his head in his hands, torn skin stinging as it stretched. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to anything. He managed to lift his head and watched as the Flash carried Batman away to the Batcave's infirmary, aided now by Alfred. Batman looked bad. Really bad. Robin was shaking again. If the speedster hadn't shown up when he did, he and Batman would be…

"Hey." Robin winced as someone poked his shoulder, then glared up at the offender. Oh, that was right. Speedsters, there had been more than one. He didn't recognize the boy who had introduced himself earlier as Kid Flash, then with a sheepish grin added that he wasn't supposed to be going on missions yet.

He was a couple of years older than Robin, maybe, and appeared to be just as exhausted. He wasn't so badly injured as Robin, though. Or Batman. They were all doing great in comparison to Batman. Kid Flash offered Robin a weak smile. "You got a kitchen anywhere around here?" he asked. "Or a pantry? What does a Batman eat, anyway?"

Robin blinked up at Kid Flash in shock, momentarily at a loss for words. The kid wanted food? At a time like this? "How can you even think about food right now?" Robin demanded, his voice shrill. He rose up to his feet—to his toes, actually, since Kid Flash had more than half a foot of height on him—and angrily gestured to where Flash, Alfred, and Batman had gone. "Batman could be dying at this moment, and you're selfish enough to—"

Robin stumbled back as Kid Flash collapsed against him. The older boy couldn't seem to muster enough energy to even support his own limbs. "Superspeed has a way of taking it right outta you," he explained to Robin, his lopsided smile bearing notes of apology.

"Oh." Robin felt like an idiot. He shouldn't have assumed the other boy's request for sustenance stemmed from self-centered ignorance. The Boy Wonder staggered under Kid Flash's weight (how could someone so fast be so heavy?), until the preteen's arm was slung across his shoulders. "Right. Next stop, kitchen."

"Sorry about this, Rob," Kid Flash said, and Robin felt startled. He hadn't been given a nickname since… well, since his uncle had decided that he was much more a Dick than a Richard. "I hope Batman's gonna be okay, too."

"You're not the one who should be apologizing," Robin muttered.

It took a while to get to the kitchen. Robin frowned when Kid Flash made a beeline for the large bag of chocolate stored in the pantry. "That's for baking," he told him.

Kid Flash choked. "Batman bakes?" he said incredulously, starting to chortle. Instead, he stopped and grimaced. Laughter wasn't kind on a body after battle, especially the battle they had just crawled away from. "The chocolate's for an energy boost, Rob. Then I need something a little more filling." He limped to the fridge and opened it. "Hm, only one beef roast. Mind if I finish that?"

"Go ahead," Robin mumbled. "Not like Batman and I are gonna eat it." His knees were shaking again, and he sat down on the kitchen floor, using one of the ovens as his prop. His head was back in his hands.

"Robin?" Kid Flash was beside him immediately, a hand gripping the boy's shoulder. He had taken off his gloves in preparation for handling the food. The haste with which he had come reminded Robin painfully of his family, and the fact that when he was on the verge of breakdown, all Batman could do was tell him to be stronger.

"Kid Flash, please…" Robin didn't look up, pulling his knees closer, as though somehow he could curl up and hide from everything. "Just don't talk to me."

The hand on Robin's shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze, and then Kid Flash withdrew as requested. He spoke not a word after that. The young speedster continued poking around the kitchen, and Robin could occasionally hear him zipping in and out of the room. A scent Robin didn't recognize began to fill the air, preceded by the sound of an igniting stove and boiling water. It made him think a little of the Italian restaurant Bruce had taken him to last Friday.

Bruce. Batman. What if he wasn't going to be okay? If he didn't make it, it was going to be Robin's fault. If only he hadn't screwed up, if only he hadn't made such a rookie mistake…

Robin knew the feel of Kid Flash's hand on his shoulder by now. It was strange how something could become so familiar so fast. The ten-year-old looked up reluctantly, though in truth he welcomed a break from his feelings of crushing guilt. Was it bad for him to want such an escape?

Robin's attention was drawn to the item in Kid Flash's other hand. It was a bowl heaping with noodles and cheese, steaming merrily. A quick sniff confirmed that this was what Robin had been smelling. Kid Flash placed the bowl in Robin's scraped hands, the white material warm through his tattered gloves. A spoon was lodged in the golden mass, and made satisfyingly squishy noises as Robin moved it.

He looked back up at Kid Flash. "I didn't ask for food."

"It's mac'n'cheese," the speedster answered, because somehow that explained everything. The lopsided grin appeared again, green eyes bright with an endearing friendliness. He made Robin think a lot of his Uncle Rick. "It's the only thing in the world that I know how to cook, so you're in luck."

"Mac'n'cheese," Robin echoed. He stared down blankly at the bowl.

"You're supposed to eat it," Kid Flash informed him. When Robin still didn't seem to understand, he continued. "Well… in my family, anyway, mac'n'cheese is comfort food. When bad things happen or life is just plain stressful, we make mac'n'cheese. I promise it works."

Robin was skeptical. But he loaded his spoon with the cheese-encompassed noodles and took a bite. It was warm and soft, and although Robin was anxious and guilty and scared, his mouth—his mouth, of all things—was… happy? He took another bite. And another. Wow, he was hungry.

The mac'n'cheese settled comfortably in Robin's stomach, warming him from the inside. Kid Flash returned yet again, bouncing off a wall after first colliding with it. He laughed off his embarrassment and sat down next to Robin, a large bowl of mac'n'cheese in his own hands. He took several bites.

"I'm Wally, by the way," Kid Flash told him. He paused to lick some cheese off his lips. "Wally West. Don't tell anyone, 'kay? Otherwise ole Uncle Flash will have my head."

Robin nodded. "My lips are sealed, KF," he promised. Hey, it was fun to give nicknames. Uncle Rick and Kid Flash were onto something.

"Good," Wally nodded, apparently satisfied that his secret would be kept. Robin would have to teach him a thing or two about choosing who he trusted. It was clear he hadn't learned the hard way yet. The speedster shoveled some more mac'n'cheese. "Oh, the butler guy says Batman's going to be okay."

Robin felt the last of his fear release. It was like a mass of knots had finally been untangled. Batman was going to be okay. The Boy Wonder smiled and delved deeper into his bowl.

"My name's Dick Grayson."

Wally paused in his shoveling to glance over at Dick. "Cool."

Later, as Flash and Wally were leaving, Dick grabbed Wally by the elbow. "Hey, KF," he said. "Thanks for the mac'n'cheese." He smiled, some of the ten-year-old that he was making an appearance. "You were right. It really does work."

Wally grinned back. "Mom does always say that it's the mortar of miracles," he informed Dick. His expression turned befuddled. "Whatever that means."

Mount Justice

July 5, 00:49 EDT

For someone as quick and surefooted as Dick Grayson, moving through the debris should have been easy. And if things had gone differently, if his best pal had been with him, that would certainly be the case. But things hadn't gone differently, Wally West had died, and now Dick was slowly picking his way through the remnants of the blasted Mount Justice, alone. The night was warm—it was July, after all—and Dick should have had every sense tuned to seek his way through the dark, but his thoughts were distant.

He stumbled more times than he bothered to count. With each loss of footing he thought of Wally, of how his friend would tease him for his clumsiness, and then proceed to question him until he found out what was wrong. Dick's head bowed, and his teeth clenched as he told himself not to cry. He had done his crying at the funeral. He had done it, and now it was time to move on.

He reached the edge of the mountain at last and stared down at the crashing surf below. It shouldn't have been so close, the cliffs shouldn't have been so low, but so many things that shouldn't have been now were, and it was Dick's fault. Salty wind jerked at the collar of his coat.

He sat down. The stone was rough and sharp, what was left of Mount Justice, but Dick knew that the wind and the rain and gravity would all work together to smooth it over and eventually eradicate it. The work of centuries. Millennia, even.

Dick watched the ocean churn in the darkness, white foam contrasting with the shadowed depths that produced it. He thought of missions gone wrong in the past, of injuries and losses and outright failures. Wally would never say a word, but find a pot and noodles and next thing Dick knew, he and Wally were sitting next to each other eating mac'n'cheese. And it worked. Every time. Sooner or later, the jokes would be cracked again, and the smiles would return to each of their faces.

Dick pulled away his shades, rubbing at his eyes with his right hand. He pulled his knees up toward his chest to contain warmth. Not that he was terribly vulnerable to the cold, he simply… well, it made him feel just a little bit less miserable. Blue eyes searched the horizon for answers they wouldn't find, and Dick sighed.

"I don't think there's enough mac'n'cheese in the world for this one, KF," he confessed, his words lost to the howling wind. His legs unfolded and pressed into the rubble, dust and splintered rock grinding under the soles of his boots. Dick tried to blink his tears away, but really, what was the point in that? There was no one to see him anyway.

Dick sobbed, burying his face in his hands. He hadn't cried like this since his parents had died. "I'm so sorry, Wally!" he wailed, his voice choked. "I'm so sorry."

Palo Alto

July 5, 13:24 PDT

Wally wasn't quite sure when he had gotten home. Had he been gone? He must have; everything ached, and it was hard to breathe, as though he had been running full-tilt for hours. Why was he in uniform? Wasn't he retired? Wally resolved to figure this out later, right now he needed to get out of the open.

He trudged up the stairs to the duplex he and Artemis shared. She should be home right now, unless it was one of her afternoon class days. Wally could never remember which ones those were. He wasn't the best when it came to dates—Artemis could confirm that he had forgotten Valentine's Day for four years in a row.

Everything seemed blurry to Wally—when had he last eaten?—and next thing the speedster knew, he was inside. He couldn't even remember opening the door. The foggy mess that was Wally's head was becoming increasingly alarming. He needed to get some food in his system before he collapsed entirely.

"Hey, 'Dita," Wally called to his dog. The pit bull gave no response, curled up as she snoozed on the couch. Typical Perdita. Way lazier than her royal namesake. Wally made sure the door was closed before heading for the kitchen, hoping that maybe if he got something to eat, he'd be able to think clearly enough to figure out what was going on. He propped his goggles up on his forehead, thinking that maybe a quadruple layer sandwich would do the trick.

The door opened and shut. Wally recognized the jangle of the keychain trinkets as the door was looked again. "Hey, babe," he called, deciding a hello kiss from Artemis was much more preferable to a sandwich. Maybe she knew what was going on. "Class out early?"

Artemis walked right past him, her head bowed and shoulders hunched. Her eyes seemed red, as if… as if she'd been crying.

Wally's stomach twisted, and he felt that he knew why she was so distressed. "Babe?"

Artemis still wouldn't answer him. She wouldn't even look at him. Had Wally done something wrong? If only he could remember! "Hey, 'Dita," Artemis called to the dog, and her voice was husky. Strained. Perdita woke up, sniffing at Artemis curiously. Artemis sat down beside the dog and scratched behind her ears, just as she liked. "Do you know the story behind your name, Perdita?" Artemis asked suddenly. "It was Wally's sixteenth birthday…"

Artemis trailed off, and next thing Wally knew, she was weeping. Tears made fast tracks down her face as she struggled for breath; her entire body shook as she sobbed. Concern swept over Wally, his heart clenching at the sight of Artemis in so much pain. He rushed to her side, reaching to pull her into his arms as he uttered a stream of desperate reassurances.

"Artemis, babe, I'm right here," the speedster babbled. "It's okay, whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry. Please, babe, don't cry."

But when Wally's hands touched Artemis' shoulders, they passed right through. Wally's eyes widened, and he remembered. The Reach. The Light. Months of pretending that Artemis was dead, screaming at Dick for getting Mount Justice blown up and nearly killing himself and Conner in the process.

The reunion with Artemis. Stopping the Reach's endgame. Paris. The Arctic.

The Arctic…

"It's no good, Barry. Aw, man! Artemis is so gonna kill me for this! And don't even get me started on Mom and Dad…"

"Kid?"

"Just tell them. Okay?"

"Kid!"

Wally stared ahead in shock, kneeling invisibly by Artemis' side. He was gone. Or trapped. Whatever had happened, wherever he was now… his friends were mourning him. His family was mourning him. The whole world thought that Wally West was dead.

But… that couldn't be true.

"I'm not dead, Artemis," Wally cried, desperately trying to grip Artemis' shoulders. Every attempt was in vain. "Artemis! Babe, I'm right here!"

He couldn't feel anything around him. Not Artemis, not Perdita, not the floorboards beneath his feet. And as though provoked by the thought, the floor under the speedster ceased to support him and Wally was falling, through house and earth and layers of rock, screaming Artemis' name.

Oa

December 27, 14:57 OST

The previous year

Oa had to have hundreds of thousands of buildings. The entire planet was a city, which, Razer would never admit to anyone, was astounding. The Red Lantern stood alone on the deck of one of the many towers, lost in thought.

All looked so well from here. He knew that somewhere, the Green Lanterns were celebrating. Perhaps he should join them. All life in the universe had been saved, after all, and he had played a key part. Razer of Volkreg, sometime slave to rage and hatred, killer of a world, and now they were calling him a hero. For some it was a sour taste in their mouth. For others, it was strangely inspiring.

As for Razer, he didn't think anything of it. How could he ever call himself a hero, and join in the celebrations, when the cost had been Aya? Razer could not celebrate when the cost had been Aya.

"Please, Aya. Don't do this. Don't leave me alone."

"You will never be alone. You have a family now. And somehow, I know, I will be with you too. Watching over you, always."

"I don't understand."

"I do not either. It is just… a feeling."

Razer heard the familiar steps of Hal Jordan and Kilowog as they landed behind him, light and surefooted, and heavy and confident. His family, Aya had called them. She had been right. "Hey Razer," Hal called, his voice trying for the playful tones that supposedly came to him so easily. "Corps can't honor its heroes if the heroes don't show up to the ceremony."

"I'm leaving."

The words surprised even Razer. He could imagine the bewilderment of Hal and Kilowog, and imagination was something that hadn't come easily to Razer for a long time. The Red Lantern Corps had a way of stifling creativity.

Razer turned and saw Hal and Kilowog exchanging glances. "Look, Razer, I know it's hard," Hal began as Razer crossed the deck to join the other two Lanterns. Quite possibly for the last time. "All these people celebrating when you just lost Aya."

"But that's just it," Razer replied. He felt his resolve gathering; an unfamiliar, steady flame igniting deep inside. "I refuse to believe that Aya is dead. I made that mistake once before."

Kilowog's expression was solemn. "Red, we all miss her," he said, using the nickname that had somehow become endearing over the past year and some. "But you gotta face it: she's gone."

Despair stirred inside of Razer, jagged claws scrabbling for his hope. He refused to give it the chance. "No being as adaptable and resourceful as she could truly be deleted from existence." He turned and looked up at the sky, colored in pinks by the sunset. Oa's west, that was where he would first go. "I know in my heart that she is out there somewhere."

And he did know. In the heart where he had once felt nothing but rage and pain and hate, there was now certainty. He was going to find Aya.

"I will scour the universe if I must," he told Hal and Kilowog. "But I will find her."

A pause. "Okay then," Kilowog said, as though that decided everything, "we're coming with you."

Razer wasn't the sort of person who smiled. But if he were, he would have done so now. There was Kilowog's willpower, the stubborn kindness that had made him a Green Lantern in the first place.

"Kilowog, my friend," Razer said fondly, turning to place a hand on the Bolovaxian's shoulder. Strange, that such a gesture should feel so natural to him now. "You would only slow me down."

This was true, but Razer had other reasons. Kilowog had a life of his own to live, duties to attend, future Green Lanterns to train. He couldn't waste himself on Razer's behalf, neither him nor Hal Jordan.

"You get in any trouble out there, find yourself in a jam, you don't hesitate to call us," Hal told him. Razer was almost amused by the commanding tones of the older Lantern, but he could see in the man's eyes that this offer of help was heartfelt. "'Cause we will hightail it out there and—"

"Save me," Razer finished. His gaze softened. "I know, Hal. You already have."

He offered his hand and Hal took it. Razer felt this was the closest he had been to having a brother for a long, long time. He could see Kilowog's distress mounting as he turned back to him, and next thing Razer knew, he was engulfed in a hug. Befuddled, he patted the Green Lantern's shoulder, since he didn't have arm length enough to return the embrace. They stayed there a moment.

Kilowog released Razer, setting him in place as though to make sure he hadn't broken anything. He was blinking rapidly, though not quite rapidly enough to dispel all of his tears. He cleared his throat to disguise his sniffling.

Dear, stubborn, sentimental Kilowog. Razer would miss him. He would miss both of them, his brothers-in-arms. The Volkregian turned away and his toes lifted off the deck, the power of his ring sending him out into the universe and someday, somehow, to Aya.

He knew he would find her. He had hope.

Space Sector 0003

December 27, 17:12 DST

Atrocitus had heard of the Blue Lantern Corps. He had been told of how the blue energy they harnessed had the capacity to render his Red Lanterns powerless and without use. But he had never seen a Blue Lantern, or a Blue Lantern's ring.

Until now.

Ever since his escape, there had been four things Atrocitus had sought to destroy above all else: the Guardians, Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern who had defeated him twice, the Green Lantern's lover, and his own wayward creation, Razer.

The Guardians were too well-protected for Atrocitus to do them any harm. Hal Jordan was surrounded by friends. Atrocitus had no idea where the Lantern's lover was. But Razer… Razer was alone. If only Atrocitus had a way to track him down and kill him before he rejoined his Green Lantern allies.

And now he did. Atrocitus grinned savagely at the Blue ring struggling to escape the construct in his palm. Without a Lantern, a ring could barely do anything. The eyes of the last survivor of Ryut were dark with malice.

"Looking for Razer, are you?" he growled at the ring. "A Red Lantern with a heart of Blue. How poetic." His fingers closed into a fist around the ring, the blue energy stinging his flesh. "The pup is mine," Atrocitus snarled furiously. "And you, little ring, are going to bring me to him."