Disclaimer: I own nothing: these characters belong to DC and WB

Best served cold

For a long time after he finished speaking, all she did was stare at the portrait of her son on the screen. Her green eyes roamed his face so many times that he felt familiar to her. And he was in a weird way. Of course, he was. He was her son. He was her…and John. She saw herself in his jewel-green eyes that shone with the spirit of a warrior. She saw herself in the stubborn set of his jaw. And John… even if she hadn't wanted to recognize him in her son, it would have been impossible. They carried identical "weight- of-the-world" expressions on their faces but their proud posture declared that they were going to bear that weight valiantly. Even if it buried them.

Her breath caught in her throat and her son's portrait grew watery in front of her eyes. Batman watched the red-headed woman beside him. Her gaze was still trained on the screen, as if she was afraid if she looked away Rex wouldn't be real anymore. But he wasn't real – not yet. Batman found himself doing something he very rarely did – second guessing himself. Wasn't he the one who always said it was a bad idea to know too much about one's future? So why had he indulged her?

Maybe because Lantern had told her first. It had been his secret to tell, after all, not Batman's. John had either been unwilling or incapable of divulging more to his stunned ex-girlfriend, but her appetite had been awakened and she had sought out the Dark Knight in order to learn more. Maybe it was just the way she had approached him, sitting down and watching him expectantly, even desperately (though she hid it well), waiting for any modicum of information that would connect her to the man John had met in the future. She hadn't given Batman any room to refuse. He had immediately stopped his work, slipped in a disc and narrated the events of their time-hopping pursuit of Chronos.

Batman studied his teammate. Her neck muscles were taut and her nostrils flared as she manfully squelched the emotion that he'd known would eventually overcome her. He wondered if he should try to comfort her but recognized that if he did, her veneer would quickly shatter. If he were going to break down, he certainly wouldn't want any witnesses. It was a strange sort of sympathy, but one he felt was best between warriors. He figured he would leave the room, but she stood up before he had a chance to.

"Thank you," she told him in a low voice, eyes still forward. Then like ripping off a band-aid, the winged-woman whirled around and exited the room. Her walk was stiff and her feathers were bristled, but aside from that she gave no other indications that her entire world had been turned on its head within the last hour. The expression on her face would have burned a hole through granite but nobody thought it was that strange, since Shayera's stormy disposition was well-known and oft-discussed among League members.

Thus the Thanagarian was able to reach her quarters unassailed. With the locking of her door, the final threads of her composure snapped. She sat on the bed, a tear snaking out from behind her blank stare. Then another and another, and soon it felt like they were choking her. She didn't weep silently or bravely; she wailed like a mother whose child had been ripped from her arms. She slid to the floor and doubled over. Her fist pounded the cold metal floor. Violent sobs twisted her gut painfully and robbed her body of air.

It was a pain unlike she had ever experienced. It didn't seem possible that the mouth that had earnestly whispered words of love was the same that had delivered the coldest, most crushing denial of that love.

"I'm staying with Mari…I'm not going to be Destiny's puppet…"

What about me, John! Her mind screamed. What about our son? How could he be so callous? He had actually met Rex! John had seen their son, talked to him, touched him, fought beside him. How could he then turn around and decide that that son would never exist? He was simply going to build a life with another woman, have other children and forget about Rex?

John, she cried inwardly. Why had he told even bothered to tell her? Why hadn't he just taken the secret to his grave like he'd wanted to? Why dangle that kind of hope before her only to snatch it away? That was cruelty that she'd never, ever have thought him capable of. Had he even thought this through – what it would do to her?

She froze. Had he? Was he that calculating? She had hurt him, badly, but he'd sworn that he'd forgiven her. Forgiveness was a foreign concept on her home planet but earthlings seemed to believe in it. John had appeared to as well. "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us…" She had heard him pray to his unseen God. She bit her lip. Maybe John had actually wanted to forgive her but she had cut him too deep. So he bided his time until he could hurt her back. She'd thought that maybe it was out of his system when she'd witnessed him pummeling her Brainiac-generated doppelganger with his giant green mallet, that he'd finally let it go – the hurt, the resentment. She'd even been relieved as he ferociously laid waste to the robot that was her mirror image because she thought he'd finally gotten some release. That he didn't hate her anymore.

She was wrong.

He was merciless to the robot, but he saved the deathblow for her.

John had taken away her son. She hated him with all the fury her body could contain. She rued the day she had come to this damnable planet and met John Stewart. She wanted to take her mace and bring it down on him, to break him, to watch the green glow slowly fade from his eyes.

What good would that do, though? He still wouldn't give her a son.

Fresh pain streaked through her body. She had broken his heart but he had broken her spirit. Everything was meaningless now. She would never meet Rex, know the joy of being his mother. John Stewart had taken everything from her – her home, her love, and now her future.

She knelt on the floor, her shoulders bowed, her breath clouding the metal tiles. She was exhausted, not just bodily but emotionally. Nothing, she thought dully. No tears left, no purpose or reason, just emptiness.

No! a faint voice echoed inside her. Not nothing. There's still love.

Love? Shayera's head lifted, her auburn hair falling away from her face. She envisioned her son, a son who'd been so proud of his mother's heritage that he'd chosen to call himself Warhawk. She couldn't possibly give up on him. There was love, inexplicable, insane perhaps, for this person that she'd never met, but it was just as strong as if she'd known him her whole life. John couldn't take away her son unless she let him. She had just as much power over the future as he did – and she was going to use it.

Shayera Hol was a warrior from a race of warriors. It wasn't in her DNA to surrender. Besides, if there had ever been any reason to fight, this was it.

The young woman pushed herself up off the ground with new and growing resolve. She would claw, tear, scream and rage if she had to. She would do absolutely anything that her newfound maternal instincts dictated in order to protect the existence of her child.

Shayera was going to fight, and she was going to fight like a mother.

A/N: Some peeps have mentioned that I should continue this fic. If you share that opinion then please give me suggestions as to how you think it should all play out and hopefully I'll come up with something workable. This is not a promise, I'm just saying that anything's possible :)

Rainforestrose: I read your idea and I agree with you on one thing: John is a jerk to Shayera. Worse, he's a coward. But being a super HG/GL-shipper I don't know if I'm brave enough to write a fic where they DON'T end up together. I think the writers of JLU messed up their relationship, and it's up to other writers (like me) to fix it. Honestly, sometimes happily ever after is just better, even if it isn't so realistic. Thanks for your input, though. I appreciate it.