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And All For the Want (2/6)
A Batman Beyond / Justice League Unlimited - R 'Verse Story
by BillA1 and Merlin Missy
Copyright November 2007
Rating: (PG-13)
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CHAPTER TWO
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"You lied to me."

Bruce turned around in his chair. The study was dark, and the hour was late, and Terry was sore from the beating he'd taken at the hands of the smugglers, but none of that mattered as much as the words that had been echoing in his head all night.

"I told you where to find Callahan."

"Not about Callahan. Warhawk. Superman told me all about her. Said you two used to be friends."

"Your point?"

"You said you didn't know anyone by that name."

"No. I said I didn't know a 'guy' by that name. Warhawk's a woman."

Terry spat out a breath. "You're a real piece of work sometimes, you know that, Bruce?"

"Just coming that to conclusion now?"

"Don't screw around with me. What if I needed that name for a case?"

"You didn't. She's been off-planet for decades, and she's not coming back."

"Then why didn't you just say so?"

"Because you didn't ask."

"You keep saying 'she's.' Superman said he hadn't seen her in years. Is she still alive?"

Bruce nodded once. "She's not using that name anymore. She goes through names every decade or two. Last I heard, she was back to using her real name."

"Hol. Superman said."

"Superman dwells on the past too much."

"Did they date?"

Bruce blinked in surprise, and Terry marked a score on the card he kept in his head. "No. They never did. And before you ask, I never dated her, either."

"Then why all the secrecy?" Terry threw up his arms. "You and Superman both get weird about the old days."

"You didn't need to know."

"You didn't even know why I was asking."

"Yes, I do."

Several scenarios played out in Terry's mind as the anger boiled inside of him. "So do you listen outside my door at night or did you just plant a camera in the room?" Bruce stared back without blinking. "I can't believe you don't trust me."

"I trust you. I can't afford to trust your girlfriends, and neither can you. The mission ... "

"The mission doesn't mean I cut myself off from the world just because you did."

"Anyone you bring into our world is in danger! Any of them could bring this down around us!"

"Then you should be happy Merina's a costume. She's used to keeping secrets." And there it was, open between them now.

"Break it off with her, Terry. Do it quickly and cleanly. You don't want ... "

"Here we go again."

Bruce said more loudly, "You don't want to be involved with a teammate. It won't end well. It never does."

"Arrow's folks got married," Terry replied, just because he could.

"Arrow's parents died. She will hurt you, or you will hurt her, and you will still have to rely on each other for your lives and someone will be killed because you can't keep your pants zipped."

The certainty in his voice always nettled Terry the most, but he also remembered the faraway look on Superman's face as he'd talked about Hol.

"Who died? Back in the old League. Who was killed when someone got too close?"

Bruce was much better than Superman at hiding his thoughts away, and still a shiver went through Terry as the old man said, "Everyone."

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Donna's shoulders ached. She flexed her arms and leaned back trying to find a comfortable sitting position in a chair that was too old and too worn. With all the money Metamorpho kept preaching that the League must save during his financial meetings, she hoped a new chair for the computer room was in the budget.

She'd found the file in the archives that she was looking for: Shayera Hol, alias Hawkgirl, alias Warhawk. The file said she was Thanagarian, a founding member of the League, part of the resistance against the Thanagarian invasion. She married another League member named Carter Hall and left the League, and Earth, shortly after Hall's death.

Something was wrong. There was information here, but not enough of the right information. There was no reference to any missions this Hol person had been on.

Anywhere. Or ever.

It was as if she'd showed up one day to found the League and then quietly left within a year of her husband's death without ever having done anything. Or someone had gone back into the files and made it look that way.

Donna didn't notice Fred walk in until he pulled up a chair next to hers. She smiled as he sat down. He glanced up at the screen then back to her. "Doing some research?"

Donna's smile faded. "Batman asked me. Did Aquagirl tell you about the weird dreams she's been having?" He shook his head. "She keeps dreaming about some guy named Warhawk. She's told me all about him. Turns out, there was a real Warhawk in the League. Superman knew her. Batman wants me to track down her current location."

Fred studied the pictures of the woman on the screen for a moment. "She can't still be alive, can she?" he said softly. "She's been gone more than fifty years."

"Strangely, there's nothing of real substance here," Donna said, shaking her head. "But no mention of her after she left, and you're right, it was more than fifty years ago." She stood and stretched, taking a deep breath and flexing her shoulders again. Her shoulders made a loud popping sound and Fred laughed. Donna smirked. "Don't laugh, I'm old." She paused for a half a second before adding, "Just like you."

She sat down again in the chair and brought her hands to her lips. "Tell me about Shayera Hol or Warhawk or Hawkgirl within the last fifty years," she said.

"I think Dad might have mentioned someone ... "

Donna's ring glowed in response. "Standby," the ring answered back in Donna's own voice. "Standby. No additional information on Shayera Hol or Warhawk or Hawkgirl in sector 2814 beyond a reported medical treatment for a Warhawk forty-four years ago."

"Oh. Sorry," Fred said sheepishly. "I thought you were talking to me." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest and sighed.

"What was the nature of the medical treatment?" Donna said as she reached under her chair and pulled out a gift wrapped package, which she pushed toward Fred. The look of delight on his face as he took the box warmed her heart. She'd seen the disappointment on his face when he'd surveyed the mountain of presents at his party.

"Left ocular enucleation," the ring answered.

Donna frowned. "Consult the Central Power Battery," she said. "Provide me with any available data on Shayera Hol or Warhawk or Hawkgirl within the last fifty years outside of sector 2814."

"Standby…Standby. Shayera Hol, also known as Warhawk and Hawkgirl. Native of the planet Thanagar located in the star system Polaris. This system is incorporated into sector 3559. The Green Lantern responsible for this sector is Haly-Mote. Shall I contact the responsible Lantern?"

"No. Continue." Then she quickly added, "Wait. What is her current location?"

"Unknown. Last known contact with a Green Lantern was in sector 872 six months ago. The Lantern responsible for this sector is Tor-Chal. Shall I contact the responsible Lantern?"

"Wow," Fred exclaimed. He'd ripped the wrapping off her present and held up the gift box. "Just what I wanted. I've been looking at this set of knives for weeks. How'd you know?"

Donna brought her finger to her lips, looked at Fred and said, "Shhh." She wrote "872" on a slip of paper in front of her and then said, "No. End inquiry." She turned back to Fred who was all smiles at the eight piece knife set from Germany. "Don't act like it's a surprise that I stalk you," she answered. It was hard not to laugh at Fred and she guessed that he must have been as funny as all get out when he was a child at Christmas.

"I just figured that any good chef should have at least one decent set of knives," she continued. "And I know if left to your own devices you'd spend all of your money making a leaf-raking arrow or something silly like that rather than the stuff you really want."

Fred nervously bounced his leg as he stared at the knives. "You know," he started and then he paused, looked into her eyes and said, "Thank you, Donna. This means a lot to me. It really does."

He leaned closer and she thought for a moment that he would kiss her. Then he seemed to realize where he was and covered with a hand through his hair and a smile. To Donna, it felt like Justin's ghost had walked between them, and not for the first time.

"I know," she said after a minute, for something to say. "Now I have to get back to work. If you're going to stay you have to be quiet, okay?"

"Like a church mouse," Fred said as he removed one of the knives from the package.

Donna stood. "Contact the Green Lantern of ..." She looked down at the paper in front of her and then added, "Sector 872." After a moment, a holographic image appeared in front of her. It was a four-armed Green Lantern named Tor-Chal. She'd encountered him before.

"Greetings, Green Lantern," Donna said. "I require your assistance on a matter most urgent."

"Greetings, Green Lantern," Tor-Chal replied. "How may I assist you?"

Donna frowned. "I'm looking for a female Thanagarian. She used to operate under the name Warhawk, though that was approximately fifty years ago. Can you help me locate her?"

He frowned. "Lantern, do you have any idea how many habitable worlds are in my sector? You want me to find one female Thanagarian out of perhaps two hundred billion beings using only the name you have from almost fifty years ago?"

Donna bit her lip. Tor-Chal was right. It was a tough assignment and it would be an expensive one. "Her real name is Shayera Hol, though she's probably not using that alias either. If it helps, she has no left eye."

Tor-Chal's eyes narrowed and he was silent for an uncomfortably long time. "I may know of a woman," he finally said. "But her name is not Warhawk. If it is who I think, she and her band of mercenaries are well established in this sector."

"Is she a criminal?" Hol wouldn't be the first Leaguer to go rogue, Donna thought. She considered that Tor-Chal placed emphasis on the word, 'may.'

"This woman is not wanted by the law at the moment, but that is only because she ensures her operations are on the periphery of being legal."

Donna exhaled sharply. "Green Lantern, I understand the difficulty of my request, but I will not meet with just anyone. It must be the Thanagarian who was Shayera Hol. Can you find her and set up a meeting with her for me?"

Tor-Chal was silent, then he smiled slightly. "There is much risk in doing this, Green Lantern." He slowly shook his head. "It could be very dangerous."

There it was. Donna pursed her lips together. "I understand the risk to you ... and to me. I would not ask if I didn't think it was important. If you are successful in arranging a meeting with the one I seek, you may name your price."

Fred dropped the knife he was holding and was now looking at her.

Tor-Chal nodded. "I will contact you with a time and location. Tor-Chal out." The holographic image faded.

Fred stood. "What did you mean when you said he could name his price?"

Donna didn't make eye contact with Fred. "It means exactly what you think it means, Fred. We're all adults here. This is how we do things in the Corps. We barter and everything is on the table." She toyed with her ring. She knew the history, knew things hadn't always been this way. The Civil War had changed everything. The Guardians and their defenders had lost, and the old ways had ended. Favors begat favors. Batman and Aquagirl both were going to owe her big for this one.

There was silence. She looked up to see Fred looking at the floor. She sighed. He would never understand the personal sacrifices Green Lanterns sometimes had to make if they wanted to accomplish anything outside their own sectors.

"Glad you liked the knives," she said as she turned and walked out of the room.

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Terry wasn't going to admit to the nausea, particularly when the other two seemed to be coping so well, but he hated boom tubes. Using the coordinates Lantern had gotten from her contact, they'd landed on a dusty little planet circling a distant but hot blue sun. The atmospheric adjustors inside his suit hummed, audible only to his ears, as they filtered out the worst of the dust and tried to compensate for the heat.

Beside him, GL's greenish aura was a comfort, but Merina wasn't even wearing shoes. The hunted look he'd gotten used to these last several months had been replaced with another expression on her face. Anticipation, maybe, or fear.

"This better be worth it," Terry said. "I've been in garbage dumps nicer than this."

"Is that why you never invite me over to your place?" GL asked.

They went inside. The bar lived down to his expectations. In the corners, he spied at least six or seven different alien species sitting at tables with drinks that fizzed and fumed. There was music coming from somewhere behind the bar, flat and out of rhythm, just loud enough to cut like a toothache.

There were two Thanagarians in the room. The woman, the one they'd come to see, sat facing the bar, her left side against the wall. The male sat behind her and towards them, flanking her. A bodyguard, Terry guessed.

"I said to only bring one person with you," said Hol. "Can't you count?" Her voice cut through the sounds of the bar, though no one else reacted. How many of the goons around them were on her payroll?

Terry went to retort but Lantern grabbed his shoulder. This wasn't their show. Merina glanced back at Terry. "I can. He can't. But he can wait outside if you're afraid of him."

The woman smirked. "Sit down."

Merina took the seat opposite Hol. Lantern dragged Terry to a table close by, just as far away as the other Thanagarian, then gargled something in an alien tongue he didn't recognize. The bartender brought over two mugs of a brown liquid Terry had no intention of even sniffing, much less drinking.

"You're Arthur's girl."

"Yes."

"And you know who I am."

"I know who you were."

Terry watched the male Thanagarian. He wore a mask that matched Hol's: simple, graceful feathers off to either side of his face, and eyes that gave nothing away. The music blared and Terry felt the beginnings of a migraine.

It was then that he noticed that all of the patrons in the bar were looking at them. His stomach groaned as the uneasy feeling came back while he speculated that perhaps everyone in the bar was in the woman's employ.

"What do you want?"

"I have questions for you." Ah damn. Up until now, Merina had put on her royal act, self-assured and completely composed. But Terry heard her voice catch, and Hol certainly did too.

"Lucky for you, I deal in information among other things. But questions cost money. I can't help noticing that you didn't bring any."

Merina didn't respond at first. The truth was, GL was the only one who carried any kind of credit, but they all knew that Hol just had to name a too-high price.

"I'm calling in a favor."

"Do I owe you one?"

"You owed my father. He was kind to you when almost everyone else cast you out." Thank you, Superman, for running at the mouth when prompted.

Hol's mouth tightened. "One question."

Merina shut her eyes. For a moment, Terry wanted her to ask about the weather, ask about babies, ask about anything. He wanted to get up and leave this crappy bar and its crazy patrons and go home and make love and never hear one particular name again as long as he lived.

"When you left the League for the second time and came into space, you took a new name. I'm guessing it's because most of Thanagar wanted you dead, and I'm also guessing that's why you still don't keep the same name for long. I don't really care. But the name you went by once was Warhawk, and I want to know why."

If Terry hadn't been keeping an eye on the male, he never would have noticed him twitch. Hol meanwhile turned milk-pale under her mask.

"It was a joke," Hol said. "A joke on myself. Someone said the name to me once." She took a quick sip of her drink. For someone who dealt in subterfuge, she covered badly. As she set the mug down, she recovered. "If you ask me, that was a terrible way to waste a favor."

"Who said it to you?"

Hol's jaw tightened again, but she was no longer caught off-guard. "One favor, one question. Sorry."

"Why do you want to know?" asked the male, the first he'd spoken. Hol turned around to glare at him, but he gazed serenely back at her. Hol dropped the stare first and sulked into her drink. Terry bit back his own smile. The male wasn't her bodyguard, or at least, that wasn't all he was.

"Dreams," Merina said, and that distracted tone was back. "I've had dreams. There was someone named Warhawk. A man, not you, but he has eyes like yours. I dreamed about you, too," she added. "But he's the one I need to find. I think he needs my help."

The knuckles on Hol's hand were white as she gripped her mug. "He's a figment of your imagination. Somebody's sick idea of a joke. Sorry, sweetheart."

"You do know him." Hope lit Merina's face, and something else that Terry didn't like at all.

"He's dead," Hol said. "And as far as you're concerned, so am I. Get out of my bar."

At the word "dead," Merina deflated. Terry broke the unstated rule and got up from his chair. He saw the male Thanagarian remove a weapon from his belt, but GL was right there and would probably buy them time if this turned ugly.

"Come on," he said. "Time to go. She's not going to tell us anything." Was he a little happy at the news that You Know Who wasn't real?

"He can't be dead," said Merina, more confused than upset. "He's ... No."

"Not big on reality, is she?" Hol asked Terry, and for the first time he saw her left eye, or at least the slick black cap where it ought to be. Her other eye, behind the lens in her mask, watched him coldly. Up this close, he could see the scars on her chin and neck, and a long, twisted line of scar tissue down one withered arm. The woman in the files had been beautiful, her green eyes sparkling from the handful of photographs.

"She's right," Terry said to Merina. "Shayera Hol died years ago. Let's get out of here." She stood up and stared at Hol.

"Before the trouble starts," suggested the Thanagarian male. Terry had never even heard his name.

Merina let him steer her out of the bar. Lantern came out behind them, her personal force field shielding them from a parting attack. Not that he was expecting one. Hol might not have much in the way of honor left, but she'd have no use for killing them right now.

Lantern keyed the way home into their borrowed motherbox, and called up a boom tube home. Even as it roared to life, Terry felt his stomach start to lurch in anticipation.

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When the boom tube disappeared from view, Shayera let out her breath and waited for him to join her at the table. As soon as his hands slipped over hers, her jitters melted away.

"What the hell?" she said, not really asking him.

"Will you be all right?"

"I will be. Did you read them?" He nodded. "And?"

"You're not going to like it."

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Bruce was talking to someone. Terry paused at the top of the stairway. That there was another voice in the Cave was astonishing enough. That Terry felt he almost recognized it was next to impossible.

" ... as we could," the voice said in what Terry felt was a diplomatic measure.

"I didn't think she'd like having visitors," said Bruce.

Terry cat-pawed his way down the stairs, and saw a large green face taking over the entire screen of the computer monitor. Bruce was talking to someone long-distance. Extremely long-distance.

"You could have warned us," said the green man reproachfully.

"You haven't called in five years," Bruce said in the same tone. "I didn't know where to find you. And I didn't think either of you kept in contact with the Lanterns anymore."

"We had a run-in with ours six months ago. Your new Lantern is quiet." Terry's memory finally threw up a name: J'onzz. Another one of the founding members of the League. A telepath, according to the records.

"I wouldn't know. And unless she's secretly planning on betraying the League to someone else, I don't need to know."

"She's not the one you need to worry about. Nor is your protégé."

"I don't worry about his loyalty. Tell me about Aquagirl." A bad feeling grew in Terry's gut. Had Bruce arranged for them to get scanned by this guy? Did he distrust Merina that much?

"She believes she's losing her mind. I'm not sure she's wrong."

"But?"

"You know what she was asking about."

"Warhawk. The other one. Tell me it's a coincidence. Tell me her father told her about Shayera when she was a baby."

"I'd love to. But the face in her mind is the same face that was in yours and in John's."

Bruce let out a breath. "That's not possible."

"Nevertheless. There were other faces as well, none that I recognized but to her they are as real as Warhawk."

"Did you tell Shayera?"

"Of course. She's taking it as well as you might expect."

"Just don't let her kill anyone until after she sobers up." He paused. "How are the two of you doing?"

"We're alive. Her remaining eye is starting to bother her but she won't see a doctor about it."

"She could come here."

"No." That had the finality of "old argument" all over it, and Bruce didn't press.

"Tell her I said hello."

"If you see Clark, give him our best. I'm afraid we didn't have a chance to say so when the others were here."

Bruce nodded. "Stay safe."

The Martian smiled, and then his face melted. Where he'd been blocky and green, now he was a masked Thanagarian, the male in the bar with Hol. He raised a hand in farewell, and was gone.

When the transmission closed, Terry stepped out of the shadows. "Bruce?"

Bruce lowered his head and smiled tightly. "You should have come out while he was still on the channel. He probably would have apologized for her."

"That was J'onzz, right? The Martian."

"J'onn."

"And they're ... "

"Old. And lonely. And sometimes the best thing you have is to have someone around who knows what it's like to be you." That was probably as close as Bruce was ever going to get to saying he understood Terry's current relationship, and Terry accepted it with a nod.

"Must be weird, though. I mean, he reads minds, right?"

"She's the only one he never could. If he'd told us as much, we might have all been spared a lot of grief."

Too many questions, and Bruce was never one for answering. But there was just one he needed to know. "Who is Warhawk? The other one?"

Bruce turned away. Terry felt the angry words ready to pour out. Bruce had his telepath friend read their minds but when it came to a simple question he didn't like.…

Bruce sat down and indicated the chair across from him. Confused and annoyed, Terry flung himself into the other chair.

"Terry, did I ever tell you about the first time I met you?"

"I was there. The Jokerz were following me."

"Not then. When I was young. It all started with a man named David Clinton."

Terry listened.

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