Ava Cabot
Wife
A Justice League fic
A/N: AU for Starcrossed. What if Earth hadn't been saved? A broken Shayera clings to her memories of the Earth and John. Warning: dark; implied rape.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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I can't see the sky from my room.
That's what hurts me the most right now. There aren't any windows here, and so it seems like I'm enclosed in a box of darkness, of never-ending night and Hro's darkest secrets. He keeps me here, and comes hourly to try and break me. Not just mentally, but physically as well. The light in here emits from a small green lamp, giving me only enough perception to see a few feet in front of me. But I've been here for at least three months--or maybe four, I haven't really counted--and I paced around enough to know the length and depth of every corner. There are no windows or openings to the outside world for me to look out to. No sunlight can filter in during the morning, and no moonlight to dance in against the shadows. I sometimes wonder if anyone besides Hro and my two guards know I'm here.
It's stifling in here, with hardly enough cool air to breathe comfortably. Hot air billows through, scented with whichever drug Hro decided to use today. I spend most of my days sleeping, and then waking up hours before he comes to me. He thinks that I am oblivious to him poisoning my food with sleeping pills. He's trying to make me loose and forgetful, so I won't be as strong as I was before. Not that the pills are worth it, anyway. I'm already crippled enough.
But that comes later.
There are no pictures or personal mementos to be seen on the four black walls. At least I made my room on the Watchtower somewhat homey. Not with posters of Thanagar, mind you, but of sprawling canyons, deep oceans, and endless fields. Wide open spaces on which I could stretch my wings and soar for hours. But in this tiny room I have only a bed in the corner, and a little table for my lamp. I don't know why Hro even gave it to me. He knows that a few months ago, I would've bashed his head in with it. But now he figures I'm too tired, too weak to lay a hand on him.
I never thought I would be back on Thanagar, after I exposed Hro's plan to the Justice League. I had every faith that they could defeat Hro's army, and save the planet. They'd been able to defeat every villain up until then. We traveled through time to save the world from Savage and through space to kill Thanagar's ancient deity. If they could kill gods, then surely Hro and his army would be beaten. But aboard the shuttle, John did not defeat Hro. We weren't able to stop the generator in time. Batman died trying to fly the Watchtower in the bypass generator. And the rest of the League perished, along with billions of innocent humans, when the Earth was destroyed.
But Hro, sadistic man he is, saved a special punishment for John. He killed him, severing his head with the stroke of a sword. Hro never let me see the body. I never said goodbye to the man I loved so much.
Thanagar was able to defeat the Gordanians this time, but what about the next war? It was never worth it to use the Earth. We had won a single battle, but it didn't mean anything. There would always be more fighting, more lives added to the ever-increasing death toll.
Like John's.
Absently, my fingers weave around two pieces of thin metal, which softly clink when they hit each other. I wonder if John regretted giving me his dog tags.
"I want you to have these," he said softly, opening my hand and dropping the tags. "So you'll always have a piece of good old me around, no matter where you are."
"I can't take these…"
"Sure you can. Just fasten them around your neck, and they belong to you. Besides, I want you have them. As a token of…well…love."
Hro never gave me any love tokens.
They were a symbol of courage, John's courage, which I hung boldly around my neck when I was alone. Hro hadn't touched them yet, only because I kept the tags hidden behind the lamp. I could only pray that he would never know I had a piece of John with me still.
How could John have loved me? From the moment we met, there was an instant chemistry that we continued to fight and deny. Both us of were extremely stubborn, and would never admit to having a stupid crush on a colleague. We kept fighting, using poor excuses to avoid unnecessary contact with the other.
And then I let him take off my mask, so he would see my face for the first time. I never wore a mask on Thanagar, so Hro never needed to know what I looked like underneath one. There was no mystery between us, no questions about what lay beneath the mask. And the way John gently removed it, lifting my chin to his so I could kiss him for the first time, was simply magical. No one had ever touched me like that before, and I was enthralled.
I can only wonder…only dream about what could have been. If Batman had succeeded in destroying the hyper-space bypass generator, Hro's mission would have failed. Thanagar would have lost the battle, but Earth would still be there. Hro and his forces would leave Earth in frustration, and I would be in permanent exile from my planet. Not that I would care.
John would hate me for a time, because of all that had happened between him, Hro, and me. Our twisted love triangle had broken his heart, and I wouldn't blame him for hating, even despising all the lies I lived with. Maybe he would fall in love with someone else, that new woman able to mend what I had shattered. I would go into hiding somewhere, trying to find a new purpose for myself. But who would take in a traitor?
A dark thought crossed my mind: Was I better off alone?
Quickly, I shook off the idea. John's warm smile came to mind, and I remembered how much he loved me.
Loved. Past tense.
I can hear Hro's footsteps outside my chamber. Maybe today he'll be in a gracious mood, and let me outside just this once. I'm wearing the nightgown he likes, the black one with red trim. If he's made happy enough, maybe I can convince him to let me have one freedom. I can go outside the ship and smell the fresh air, and remind myself that I am not Hro's personal hostage; I am a real person.
So this is what it's like to be a prisoner of my country.
The ring on my left finger catches the dim light next to me. A small Galadien gem glitters atop a ring of unbreakable platinum, marking me as Hro's. It means that I am no longer merely promised to him; I am his wife. Hot tears spill down my filthy face, as I painfully wish that it were John who was in my bed again. At first I thought I could survive this tortured life, taking comfort in the strength of John's love. But night after night of Hro forcing me to do this…it's been too long…
The doors slid open, Hro stepping inside with a smirk beneath his masked face.
"Hro," I begin to plead, "May I go outside, just for a moment?"
He stared at me, his gaze long and hard. I asked him this question every day, hoping that the response would different. Finally he shook his head sternly. "That's just not possible today, Lieutenant Hol." I held back a choked sob, as he uttered the same reply to my request every day. Of course I wasn't allowed outside. I had to be kept here, under control, under his watch.
"My name isn't Lieutenant Hol…it's Shayera," I whisper. "John's Shayera," I add, my voice barely audible. "Please, Hro…"
Suddenly he reaches out to grab my throat. I panic, knowing that I forgot to take off the dog tags. Fatal mistake.
With a single tug, he yanked the tags away, crushing them in a single stroke. He threw the metal against the wall behind me, the tags being nothing more than tiny pieces of scrap metal. "No!" I screamed, lunging towards him.
"Wretched whore," he shouted, slapping me down. I crumbled against the hard floor, clutching my reddening cheek. "I have been indulgent long enough, Lieutenant. That Green Lantern you loved is gone. He was destroyed with the rest of that sorry planet, and I will not tolerate you hanging on to his memory. You are my wife. Not his!"
"I'm not your wife," I shrieked, yanking off the ring and throwing it against his helmet. Harmlessly it bounced off, landing beside his shaking frame. Angrily he flew at me, pinning my thin frame against the wall. My hand closed around John's crushed dog tags, the metal cutting in my skin. Blood seeped onto the floor, but I didn't cry out in pain.
Pain in a vastly over-rated concept by many beings. Pain isn't when you're injured in battle, because you can get medical attention and be cleaned up. Pain isn't being hit in the stomach with your own mace. Pain is life-long, something that no amount of time can heal. True pain isn't just mental or physical. It's both.
I don't know what exactly pushed Hro to do it. Maybe it was the Elder Council, furious with Hro for putting too much trust in me. They were angry that our plans had been leaked to the Justice League, and they had almost stopped the generator from working, and almost cost Thanagar a victory. They were a group of twisted, savage elder warriors, and picked a special punishment for the special traitor.
The first dose of sleeping pills that Hro gave me was too strong. I was out for at least two days, and didn't wake up until we were back on Thanagar. All I remembered was watching the Earth quickly explode, turning into a graveyard of smoke and debris. When I woke up, I was strapped against an operating table. I panicked, knowing exactly what they were about to do.
I had only heard of this ordeal from rumor. It hadn't been performed for decades, but it stood as a warning to anyone who thought of betraying the planet. With a sickening realization, I knew they were going to remove my wings, grounding me forever. I guess it was Hro's final way of punishing me.
I knew what people said about my situation. I heard the guards outside my room talking, how much they pity poor Lieutenant Hol, she with such a promising future in the army and as the wife of war hero Hro Talak. They wonder why I threw everything away on Earth, just so I could live with a human and fight with my petty Justice League, and just so I could lose it all in a single explosion.
My wings…
"Put the ring on," he said quietly, death in his voice.
"No," I whispered, clutching tighter.
"I'll kill you with my bare hands!" he screeched, grabbing my neck and squeezing. My airway tightened, and I started choking. His breathing subsided, no longer an angry panting. He shoved the ring back on my bleeding hand, tossing me back onto the bed. I lay there, completely crumpled and defeated. I realized there wasn't anything left to live for, with the only thing of John's I had left being gone.
"You are mine," he said slowly, taking off his bloodied armor.
"Not again," I whimpered, backing up against the bed post. The scars on my back arched painfully, shooting spasms up and down my spine. I pressed my hand against them, trying to subside the throbbing. My efforts were in vain…the scars would start to hurt again all too soon…
A broken symbol of courage lay forgotten next to the bed.
A broken warrior had finally lost the will to live.
I love you, John Stewart.
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Word count: 2072