A/N: To be on the safe side, spoilers will be through 'Starcrossed.' This is the second installment for the corresponding episode 'War World.'

Moments
Chapter Three
DescendingFrost

"What's wrong now?"

Though she hadn't outwardly said anything, her low huffs and unapproachable scowl from under the helm sent the message loud and clear. Standing next to her, the Green Lantern couldn't be affronted when she didn't visibly respond, but, instead, opted to continuing watching the people from her place next to him, arms crossed and back pressed against the wall of the building.

"I don't like this."

That was specific. He prompted again, "don't like what?"

He felt the heat of her glance rather than saw it. Under the gleaming golden mask, her jaw was clamped tight, expressing her distaste. "We should have followed him. There's no way we can trust that—"

"I know." Sighing tiredly at her sharp voice, he felt it was better to end her rant before it even began. "But if he does decide to break for it, he won't get far."

Hawkgirl's predictable scoff didn't help his patience. "Right."

How could one woman be such a pain? If he wasn't forced to be here with her… "Is it so hard to just agree with me for once?"

The woman's wing twitched—the only reason he knew this was because they brushed against his shoulder—and her face turned to glance up at his. Beyond the golden helm, discerning her expression was impossible. To him, her eyes seemed bland and uninterested with the cool but dark film over them. "If you were actually right, sure." John just shook his head as she continued, "let me tell you something—he can't be trusted. We should get in there," she jut a thumb in the direction of the door between them, "throw him in his ship and get going. Waiting on his terms is a mistake."

Feeling the need to pinch the bridge of his nose between his gloved fingers, he merely sighed instead. "He said five minutes. We will give him five minutes."

Pushing away from the wall, her hands fisted at her sides as she pressed again, watching him carefully. "That's four and a half too many."

John closed his eyes and didn't respond for a moment. The sounds of clustered people, the bar across the way, and now her pacing steps in front of him, John allowed for a small moment of peace to think.

John knew that Superman was the Kryptonian these people were speaking of—and if Superman was alive, there was a good chance J'onn was as well, even if he hadn't heard of his whereabouts yet. But on a place like War World? He was beginning to piece together a slight explanation, but wasn't sure himself. Kryptonians were powerful, Superman was powerful…for what he had gathered of this place, he could only assume the slave trade meant one thing. 'One step at a time, Stewart.'

Those pale green eyes blinked open when Hawkgirl's footsteps suddenly stopped. Finding her poised and tensed, her next words solidified his mounting headache: "Time's up." She was rearing back and he jolted into action to hold her back as she nearly succeeded in kicking down the door. "H-hey!" The woman glared at him from the other side of the glowing green wall between her and the door. "The hell is this?" Focusing her attention on him now, he noted the jittery movement in her finger tips, itching towards the mace at her hip. That, in turn, somewhat shocked him: would she actually use that on him?

The grating sound of said door opening made both of their eyes snap towards it. The square faced alien stepped out and, looking suspiciously from hero to hero, wisely decided not to comment.

Quickly and for both their sakes, John intervened: "You're ready?"

Nodding and turning to the rooftop, Lantern followed, the green wall between him and his partner dissolving. The whoosh that met his ears he identified as feathers, indicated the Thanagarian had thankfully followed closely behind.

"Ow—" John received a sharp elbow to his left tricep in retaliation, before her growl enlightened him to his fault: "—get off my wing."

Shifting away from her, he was pressed even closer to the side of the ship's interior, cramped and uncomfortable. Regardless, he murmured a small but sincere apology.

"Why do we have to ride in this rust bucket?" Hawkgirl demanded, shifting again in the tiny space, knocking her knee against his chest. The sharp point of the helm narrowly missed slicing his cheekbone as she craned her head back to look at him. "What's wrong with your ring?" Even now, John heard the accusation lying beneath it and his jaw tightened.

"Lady, the galaxy is a big place." Chancing a turn to answer, the square faced alien blinked back to them through the compact ship. "I need my navicomputer to find war world."

John peaked a glance at her, hoping to diffuse the short fuse that was the Thanagarian. "He's got a point."

"Great." Swinging to him again, he watched as her jaw snapped shut and she scowled from under her mask up at him. "Take his side."

Though he maybe should have expected such ire, he was honestly taken aback by the earnestness of it. Blinking pale eyes, John frowned defensively, "I'm not taking his side, I'm just saying—"

The flighty tone she used to cut him off made those eyes narrow, "I'm wrong again."

"Uh…" their driver's question didn't register with him, "do you two want a little privacy?"

John glared at her—pent up and residual anger with her brash, bull headed personality finally imploding.

Obviously, the inquiry didn't reach her either. Finally rounding on him, obviously as fed up with him as he was with her, she didn't look away as her shoulders hunched and, leaning forward, got a better vantage on him. "What exactly is your problem, anyway?"

"Your attitude, girl." Pointing at her, he didn't realize how loud his voice had gotten until he was easily speaking over her. "Is everyone on Thanagar as thickheaded as you?"

Hawkgirl bristled and jerked back. "Thickheaded!" Growling as she shifted, wings fraying against the glass window in their small space. He nearly smirked at her distress by his proximity. She clearly wasn't very comfortable being this near to him. Albeit, he would admit he wasn't necessarily cozy either but seeing her squirm even in her anger made it worth it. That said, he was surprised she hadn't taken a swing at him yet. "Why you self-righteous, green eyed—ohh!" Shaking her head and spinning away from him for a moment, she fumed and muttered what he could only assume to be Thangarian. Before he could utter a word, she had already rallied into him once more, voice rising again. "My attitude is fine. Except when you're involved." John blinked, distracted for a split second—was that smoke? Glancing upwards to the vent, his eyes widened. "And another thing," she continued, oblivious to the danger he had only just realized they were now in, "just 'cause you've got that fancy ring doesn't make you a real—"

Hawkgirl's words bit off in a sharp cough as the gas spread in their trapped enclosure. Blinking as the angles of her face and the smirking alien from beyond the glass became harder and harder to distinguish, he coughed again, gasping for breath before doubling over. The last thing he saw before darkness coveted him was the winged Thanagarian pounding on the glass, cracks appearing and spreading before she coughed again and he felt her crumple next to him.

It was hard to breathe.

Feeling the weight shift to his side, another cough racked him, stirring him into consciousness. At his fingers he felt soft dirt—he was laying in it. Sand? Pale eyes peeking open and blinking blearily, John coughed again, his throat dry and hurting. Sitting up, the man's gaze finally cleared and he looked around. The dunes and rocky cliffs were vacant, eerily silhouetted by the faint light of the planet's atmosphere.

Fisting his hand, he looked down to his ring, ensuring it was still there before he moved to stand.

Where was he?

Wracking his still somewhat hazy mind for some answers, he rubbed the back of his neck. A shooting throb jolted through the contact where he must have been hit. Turning around, he continued to attempt his recall.

Superman and J'onn were missing, right? That's why he was looking for them. There was that alien—the one that tricked him. She had said he couldn't be trusted—

Whipping around, he called in sudden realization: "Hawkgirl!" The Lantern's vocals were weak, scratchy. He called again, uncertainty and dread filling his chest.

She had been with him. But, as far as he could see over dusty dunes and flat planes, she was not with him now. The sheer amount of dread that made his stomach drop would have surprised him if he weren't so apprehensive about it in the first place. Was she hurt? Was she even on this planet? Did that scum still have her? What if she…?

John refused to think the worst for the time being. Taking a slow breath, one that allowed his heartbeat to sound in his ears in the silence, he exhaled in newfound focus. Resolved to expel all other options first, his ring glowed as he glanced around the darkness once more. He would find her.

The relief he felt as he laid eyes on the folded wings flat against the soft sands was indescribable. Shooting to the rocky ledge she must have landed on, she was stirring before his feet touched the ground.

"Lantern?" Sitting up and glancing about her, the panic there was irrefutable to his ears.

"Over here." The woman's head spun to meet his location, eyes widened in her surprise. "Looks like we got taken for a ride."

"I knew we shouldn't trust that freak." The Thanagarian's hand lifted to her head, fingers pressing against the helm to straighten it. He watched when she wasn't looking at him. Finally in front of her, the disheveled appearance of his counterpart gave him a bit of relief; at least she wasn't hurt. "Any idea where we are?"

"Not a clue." As he looked down towards her and offered her his hand, the transition was so simultaneous he nearly missed it when she took his help. In an instant, her lapse in control was appraised then removed—by the time he had pulled her to her feet, the downwards tilt of her lips expressed, what he could only assume at this point, to be her permanent scowl.

It was unsettling when her eyes widened again and darted to his when her hand was still in his. The woman jerked her hand back as if she had been shocked, pulling it to her chest, affronted, and the thought that remained with him as she schooled her expression was how surprisingly small her hand was compared to his. "Great." Lantern blinked at her as she frowned again. "So we don't know where we are," he found he now remembered their fight in the cargo ship as she pressed one of her talon-like fingers to his chest. She continued, nearer than he was used to, "we don't know where war world is, and we don't even know how to get back to earth." In her frustrated exhale, she backed away from him. John watched as she walked away from him, noting the sullen dip in her wings as she held her hands out and away from her and asked, "how much worse can it get?"

"My ring could get us off this planet," looking at his ring now, his frown deepened. He hadn't recharged before they had left and he had done nothing but use it through this whole endeavor. Minutely discerned with this thought, he tried to calculate how long it would last before dying completely. His guesses didn't bode well if they didn't get out of here. But he continued, not wishing to voice that particular concern but not necessarily willing to outright lie either, "but without knowing exactly where we are, we take the risk it will run out of power before we find another inhabitable world."

"So we're stuck here." How he knew she had a brow raised in skepticism was beyond him—he certainly couldn't see it but, somehow, knew it was there. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Maybe forever," he admitted solemnly.

Not only was her panicked exclamation surprising, he also found he didn't know what to make of it: "Just the two of us?" If he weren't as distressed by the situation himself, her expression of dawning realization and subtle horror would have made him feel a small victory against the stubborn woman. As it was though, he didn't feel any sense of achievement in finally silencing her. In fact, watching dark eyes fall and something akin to desperation sweeping over her stature disturbed him more than he would truly admit. "…Oh."

The first step stumbled was stiff but, as he watched her turn away completely and her long wings open around her, he couldn't find anything to stop her from thrusting into the air. The inaudible sigh that left him was expelled as she flew off, landing on the rocky cliffs. Despite her obvious wish for space, he found he was following her regardless—even when he stepped down behind her, with her shoulder turned in, hunched, and those wings, his secret insight to her genuine emotions, slumped and soft tips willowed on the ground at her feet. Stirring and uncomfortable was the guilt he felt in his gut and, again, he felt the need to make up for it.

"Look," his hand clasped her defined shoulder and he felt her stiffen under his palm at the sudden contact he was sure she didn't appreciate—but then, to his astonishment and perhaps to his relief, she relaxed. He continued, feeling more assured by her subconscious acceptance than he ever had before, "maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on you. I—"

"Lights!" Hawkgirl's gasp pulled her away from his grasp but he followed her gaze regardless. His eyes widened—beyond the dunes, soft reflective light blurred over the ridges into the sky. When she turned back to him, the helm caught the faded luminescence and the upwards turn of her lips made him wonder if he could count the times he had seen it on a single hand or not.

In fact, it may have been weeks since he'd even seen something like that from her. It wasn't as if he had noticed it until then but, at this exact moment, he didn't realize how much it had stuck with him since the first time. John stepped past her then and her wings spread to take flight. They both took off, flying over the darkened dunes towards the soft light but despite his focus, he took the moment of silence to reflect on this small discovery.

A small lilt pressed at his lips—he had just been thinking of his relationship with her not two days earlier while in the streets of Detroit and, here he was again, wondering. If just seeing a smile from her—not one of her rugged, victorious ones or the snide, sharp ones—but a true smile from her was enough to have him spun in a knot of his thoughts about her… he smirked somewhat ruefully, chancing a look to said woman who was blissfully unaware of his torrent of thoughts as she glided next to him.

With this small bit of understanding about himself, John accepted that it was partially his fault. Having experienced her small slips of sincerity, her short laugh as she watched the sun rise with him weeks ago, to her awkward bouts of stunned surprise when she caught herself in physical contact with him, to the few, uplifting smiles she would give, he knew they were enough to keep him trying—trying to make friends with her, to be her teammate, to understand how she ticked.

More trouble than she was worth?

John's eyes flickered to her again, only to find hers quickly darting away.

Perhaps only a little bit.

Swooping down, he looked around. Piles and piles of hunks of metal, trash, and other items built mountains around them.

Hawkgirl stepped forward, helm tilted and scrutinizing. "What a dump."

"I've seen worse," he retorted as he followed her toward the lit fire in the middle of the garbage glade.

"I'll bet." John caught the telltale signs of her infamous smirk as she neared the fire, a pot brewing over top of it. Lifting the lid, she took a short sniff before she recoiled in disgust, face scrunched and tongue sticking out, "ugh!"

He would be lying if he said he had tried to hide the amused smile that flit his features at her expense. Nearing one of the tall piles, his pale gaze swept over a magazine in the pile. Quirking a brow at what he could only assume was a scandalously clad female alien plastered on the front, he shook his head, bemused: "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

John jolted to awareness when, from the rubble pile, items clattered around as a gruff, golem-looking alien with a furry Mohawk emerged from the mountain. Axe in hand, it yelled at him, "no stealing!" One of his red-splotched eyes wouldn't open but stared beady and narrowed at the man. John raised his hands in a placating gesture, beginning to explain when he felt something collide with his back and thick, scaly appendages wrapped around him. Enclosing around his neck, the alien on his back squeezed as the Lantern's hands scraped at them, grunting in his effort to extricate himself. "We don't…" still not willing to attack them, he lifted one of his hands to the mohawked alien as it trudged towards him, axe in a steel grip. "…want any trouble."

Charging forward with his weapon, the alien lifted it over his head in front of John, "liar!" Bringing down the sledge axe, John lifted his ring in front of him, a shield materializing in front of him as the metal expelled sparks off of the surface as it struck, time after time. Holding one tentacle at bay with the other hand, he tugged it a small distance from his airway. Where was…?

A single cry from his fierce and always battle ready partner answered the unspoken question as he saw another large alien fly across the field and into another pile of garbage.

Coughing as the blue, tentacled alien on his back finally got a better grip on him, John blocked another blow with his shield before throwing his arm back, elbowing the clinging alien with enough force to send him flying into the piles. Unconcerned with the lack of advantage now, the axe wielding alien hollered again, pulling back for another blow on the unwavering shield. "No one touches our stuff!"

Striking again, the axe stopped mid strike, surrounded by John's ring. The dumfounded thing held onto the weapon even as it hurled them both across the field to land on the other alien, flattened on the ground beneath the pile. At the force, the mountain of trash wiggled with uncertainty before it collapsed in an avalanche over the two, burying them.

John turned back to his counterpart—his heart leaping as he called out to her, "no!" Pale green light held the mace an arms length away from her opponent's face, suspended but still in her more than willing to continue grasp. Hurrying over to what he was certain was a less than pleased Thanagarian; he had to blink twice when she merely looked at him blankly and allowed him approach. Even more surprising, she permitted him to pass her and pick up the grey-scaled alien at her feet. "I'm asking nicely," bringing him up to face him, by the cuff, he demanded, "How do we find War World?"

"You want to find War World?" John's attention snapped to the low, slow voice. From the flame pit yards away, the large male alien that loomed nearer from the shadows made the cuffed one shudder in what he assumed was fright. The tall alien was built—had scars and worn battle wounds covering the broad expanse of body. But John Stewart's attention remained on the jagged, obviously somewhat new addition on his chest—the shape forming a broad 'S' he was all too familiar with.

Releasing the captive and allowing him to scamper away into the shadows, the Green Lantern straightened as he felt Hawkgirl move to stand beside him, tensed and ready.

The alien jabbed a thumb to his chest, just under the spine of the 'S' and glowered, single blank eye unwavering: "Talk to me."

A/N: And that is the end of the second 'War World' installment—please look forward to the third and final corresponding chapter to that episode. Then we will check back in with Hawkgirl's POV. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please feel free to send me a review! I would love to hear any thoughts or concerns and, I'll admit, strongly encouraged by them. So send some love? :sheepish smiles: