Disclaimers: The Authority and all associated characters

belong to DC/Wildstorm and were created by Warren Ellis and

Bryan Hitch. I am not receiving any economic benefit from

this work. Buy this book. It's a fun read.

Author's Note: AUTHORITY 13 SPOILERS. This is primarily

written without the benefit of Issue 13 and only polished

with information from that storyline. Most of it was just

extrapolated from what I gleaned from interviews and a

small online preview. I was still fairly precognitive,

dangit, even though I *didn't* post this in time to look

that way. ;)

Feedback would be wonderful, and can be sent to:

ibelieve@rocketmail.com

This one's for Grym.



Iron Crown 1/1





"HAWKSMOOR!"

The radiotelepathic shout reverberated through the quiet of

the night, jolting the recipient of the message out of the

peaceful repose of hard-won slumber. Powerful legs

instinctively kicked aside thin cotton sheets as the tall

sleeper shot up abruptly, still groggy after only a scant

few hours rest. Jack Hawksmoor, guardian of the cities and

new leader of the Authority scrambled to his feet, eyes

glowing red in the dim night lighting of his quarters.

"Midnighter? Report!" His usually gravelly voice was even

thicker with sleep, but even as he spoke one bare arm was

immediately reaching for the black suit neatly folded on

the chest beside his bed.

There was no answer.

"Midnighter? What's wrong?" Jack struggled into his

clothing, then fumbled with the zipper of his everpresent

dark slacks, usually nimble fingers still clumsy with

sleep.

"We need you in the Control Room. There's a little matter.

. . with a camera crew." The Midnighter spat out the words

as if they stung, and Jack could almost visualize the other

man's masked visage twisting in a grimace.

Jack paused, one arm raised high above his head, white

shirt tangled over his head. "A *U.N.* camera crew?" Jack

asked, worry clouding his features. 'That's all I need

right now, some bastard from the Secretary General's office

trying to come do some impromptu inspection.'

"No." His teammate hurried to correct him. "No, it's not

the U.N. Just a television news Crew. That. Won't. Leave."

Disdain and frustration dripped from the dark man's voice.

It was all Jack could do not to sputter as he rapidly

pulled the shirt over his bare chest. "A television crew.

You're up anyway, can't you handle it? After all, you're

the bloody *MIDNIGHTER*."

The answer was a single, resounding "NO."

Jack sighed. "Midnighter, do you know how

many damn interviews and television shows and magazine

photojournalists we deal with every day?" Jack drew in a

deep breath. "Of course you do," He answered himself

blearily. "Stupid question. But what's so damn special

about this one that you can't handle it and let me sleep?"

There was a long, awkward pause. "It's not as simple as

that. You'll understand when you get here." The frustration

and anger in the Midnighter's growl was enough to convince

Jack.

The other man had dealt surprisingly well with all the

publicity the Authority's recent change in direction had

elicted, but apparantly he too had his limits. Whatever

this was had to be particularly tricky, and the Midnighter

was many things, but he was not a diplomat.

Jack put his hands flat against the wall of the Carrier,

wishing as he had so many times that it was a true city to

commune with. The Carrier was large enough to sustain him,

give him life, but it could not truly express the joys and

sorrows his own cities shared with him. Jack banged his

head gently against the wall, considering his options.

One. Crawl back in bed and sleep. 'Yeah, and have the

Midnighter go ballistic on some poor unsuspecting

television reporter and have to do spin control for the

next six months. Heh. The U.N. would have a field day with

that one.'

Two. Have someone else do it. 'That'd certainly endear me

to my teammates, and it's the middle of the night for

Jackson and Christine, too.'

Three. Go down and deal with whatever the situation was

himself. 'Shit.' He hit his head lightly against the cool

metal of the Carrier, sensing her odd amusement at his

behavior. It almost made him smile.

In a terse voice, he told the Midnighter. "Entertain them

for a few minutes and I'll be right down."

The Midnighter's relief was almost palpable. "Good. I don't

know how much longer I can-"

Jack exhaled sharply. "Midnighter, dammit, be nice to them

for another few minutes. The last thing we need is bad

publicity right now."

"But Jack-" There was more than a hint of petulance in the

words.

"Do it." He cut off the link before the other man could

protest, murmuring silent imprecations to himself.

'He handle it a few minutes longer. If I go out there in

this mood, I'll cause more damage than I'll avert.' Jack

flung his suit coat to the floor and fell on the bed with a

sigh, head thrown back to stare blankly up at the wired

metal ceiling. Lying spread eagled across the rumpled

covers, he ran a square hand through close-cropped receding

hair, trying his best to smooth its spiky locks.

Jack drew in a deep breath, then punched the bed in

frustration. The small physical release felt good, and Jack

repeated the motion several times before burrowing deeper

into the warm covers. He savored the rapidly fading heat

for another moment before rising regretfully, pacing the

length of his spacious quarters.

He glanced back at the bed longingly, then turned to study

his reflection in an oval mirror Angie had insisted he hang

on his wall. The rugged face that stared back at him was

haggard, with dark circles rimming tired eyes and deep care

lines creasing his brow.

'Shit, I'm one ugly bastard. And this is supposed to be the

face of a superstar.' He snorted in something akin to

disgust, then yawned. 'Damn, I need more sleep.'

His physical adaptations and communion with the cities

helped a great deal, but augmented or not, he was still

human. Even he required sleep, and that commodity had been

increasingly more difficult to come by ever since he'd

taken up the reins of leadership following the death of

Jenny Sparks.

Jack shook his head. 'How the hell did I let myself get

roped into this?' He sat back down on the edge of his bed,

remembering the events of the last few months.

After Jenny's death, the team had been devastated. They had

lost their friend, their leader, the vision behind their

union. The Authority had been her creation, after all, her

defiant answer to a world that refused to play by her

rules. Jenny had worn leadership so easily and well that

her shoes had seemed almost impossible to fill.

He'd been the only one surprised when the team unanimously

appointed him to the task.

Bearing Jenny's final words in mind, he'd led the Authority

to a fateful decision. Despite some reservations, the team

decided to no longer focus on threats from external foes

while evil flourished on Earth. Staring at the planet from

the safety of the Carrier, it was all too easy to forget

the individuals who lived below and only concentrate on

threats from without, not those from within.

They'd all seen so much it was easy not to think of the

millions of people suffering everyday. They'd all allowed

themselves to forget what they were fighting for, and it

was with no small amount of shame that the members of the

Authority acknowledged this to themselves.

With the awesome power at their disposal, they couldn't

allow such inhumanity to continue. After all, Shen had

reasoned, cancer killed a body as easily as an axe did.

Jack hadn't needed to see the glint in her eyes to know she

was thinking of her parents, murdered in political coup so

long ago.

So, in typical Authority fashion, the team had actively

begun to take an aggressive role their planet's politics,

and in doing so had won global acclaim and a place in the

public eye. An intervention here, a carefully orchestrated

rescue mission there, and all of a sudden The Authority

became serious news. As Jenny had planned, saving the

world-repeatedly, and letting them *know* about it- had

already made the entire world more than kindly disposed to

them.

It hadn't taken much more to make them full-fledged

celebrities. One well-placed media blitz later and the

public went Authority-crazy. The team was attractive, shiny

and dramatic, and cameras adored them. All of a sudden,

people began listening when The Authority spoke.

It made doing good a hell of a lot easier.

Even so, it had been easier for some members of the team to

adapt to public life than others. Apollo and Angie, for

example- Jack smiled fondly- had taken to the flashbulbs

like ducks to water, and Shen, of course, had maneuvered

through the mess with her usual grace, and he'd struggled

through as best he could. It'd hadn't been so easy for the

others. The Midnighter and the Doctor had proven

notoriously difficult to deal with.

'Which might explain why I'm not fast asleep right now,'

Jack shook his head, thick fingers idly playing with the

material of his blanket. 'He's been doing so well, but I

suppose some of those jackals are enough to try the

patience of a saint. Midnighter's no saint.'

He winced, remembering some of the more personal questions

he and his team had been subjected to. It had been

especially difficult in the early days not so long ago.

None of them had no diplomatic training, no experience in

dealing with the media *or* the U.N. It was a miracle their

plan hadn't failed in its infancy.

Jack smiled fondly, remembering the wonderful support and

assistance the cities had given him in his task, guiding

him towards the areas where their help was most needed,

providing him opportunities to show the world exactly what

The Authority could- and would- do. His cities- at their

very mention a feeling of warmth and well-being swept

through him, wiping away the last traces of grogginess and

irritation at being awoken from bed.

Their approval at his team's course of action had finally

wiped away all the lingering sense of guilt he felt at

leaving them to work for the greater good, first with

StormWatch, then with The Authority. He even felt absolved

from a faint sense of betrayal at spending so much time

aboard the Carrier so far from the cities of his home.

He was guardian and protector of the cities, and now he was

finally in a position to do them some real good. They

recognized what he was doing and encouraged him, flowing

warmth and support to give him the strength he needed to

both deal with the media and the U.N. and to still continue

their real work. The cities knew what he was doing, and

they loved him for it. 'Go on,' they seemed to say in the

worldless murmur that only he could understand. 'This is

important. We can handle ourselves while you help heal us

all.'

He'd needed that support to deal with the barrage of

problems their new path had created. Glossy magazine covers

or not, the U.N. was in quite an uproar over the

Authority's new direction. Instead of just a fifty-mile

long home for seven- or six, now- human beings, the Carrier

had become a place of refuge, a temporary sanctuary for

human beings seeking political asylum.

That, along with the team's pro-active response to

politics, had political ramifications that created such a

tangled knot of international relations that governments,

quite simply, were at a loss as to how to proceed. Even

though the Carrier had been portioned off, with the

Authority theoretically having little to no contact with

the refugees, it was not unusual for Jack to be interrupted

at all hours by the U.N. liasons appointed to deal with the

refugees, or more unpleasantly, world leaders calling to

threaten or cajole the team into backing away.

'It's either politicians or the media. One's as bad as the

other,' Jack thought ruefully, rotating his shoulders to

stretch tired muscles. 'I never thought I'd say it, but

maybe I *am* glad it's just a camera crew tonight.'

Formal negotiations had not been, to put it bluntly, a

simple matter. As a foundational details, the U.N. and its

member states were at a loss as to how to treat The

Authority. The Carrier was not a state, per se; even though

it in theory satisfied the geographic requirements of

statehood, the Authority simply didn't have the permanent

population and legislative resources to sustain that status

and could not be treated as such.

However, with the team's awesome resources and the

tremendous good will of the world populace, the Authority

still had a bit more leverage than the average run of the

mill non-governmental organization. Even so, there had

still been talk of treating the Authority as a terroristic

group, but strong lobbying by organizations such as the Red

Cross and Amnesty International had combined with the

Authority's new found celebrity to buy enough time to deal

with the issues as they arose. The team chose to exercise

this considerable leeway by continuing to wipe out petty

tyranny across the globe.

It hadn't been easy. Christine and Jackson had done their

best to help with the situation, but despite their best

intentions to the contrary Jack's attention had been

increasingly required as of late. And that was on top of

the pressures of leading the team.

'I don't know how she did it,' Jack thought morosely,

feeling as always the pang of loss which always accompanied

any thought of the late Jenny Sparks, his teammate and very

dear friend. 'She made this look so easy.'

One side of his mouth lifted in a small smile. 'The first

time one of those smarmy aides starting quoting treaty law

to her or one of those psuedojournalist asked about her sex

life she would have given them a jolt straight up the ass,

and that would have been the end of that.' He laughed

aloud, thinking of Jenny Sparks striking a sultry pose for

a fashion magazine. 'Nah, maybe it's a good thing she's not

here after all.'

Thinking of Jenny, as always, reminded him of the huge

responsibility of leadership she had left him. Jack rapidly

sobered. The Authority- and by extension, the world- now

answered to him. It was a heavy crown to bear.

*He* was leader of the Authority. The Midnighter had awoken

*him* out of his sleep tonight, and even through his

irritation Jack had been heartened by the confidence in the

other man's dour voice.

Two months ago this man had been his equal, his teammate,

but now Jack bore the responsibility for his life. Whatever

he ordered, within reason, the other man would do. It was

power, pure and simple, and he knew very well how dangerous

it could be. He'd seen the results of power corrupted first

hand.

The Changers.

Bendix.

Rose Tattoo.

Jack felt a familiar wave of sorrow pass through him, and

he shook his head resolutely. There would be no Bendix this

time. *He* was no Bendix, that was for damn sure. Like

Jenny, he would not allow the monsters to win. *His* team

would not decay from within, would not twist and warp until

it was unrecognizable as a force for good. As Shen had

said, he'd changed, they all had, but life was still a

treasure. And he was still, above all things, a guardian

and protector of life in all its forms.

Midnighter. Apollo. The Doctor. Shen.

Angie. His cities. They had faith in him, they believed he

was equal to the huge task that loomed ahead. They had

faith that he, Jack Hawksmoor, little boy lost, would take

care of them all.

He closed gritty eyes wearily, then opened them wide.

Whatever the price, whatever the cost, he'd pay it gladly.

He wouldn't let them down. There was too much riding on it.

Be it an entertainment magazine or the Security Council,

Third-World dicators or even something as relatively minor

as an interstellar invasion, Jack Hawksmoor and the

Authority would stand firm.

They had to. They had to make the world a better place.

Jenny had said so.

With that bittersweet thought in mind, Jack squared his

shoulders and walked forward into whatever was waiting in

the limelight.



Fin.



=====

-DuAnn



Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the

world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be

troubled and do not be afraid.

-John 14:27