Her dad had been a pseudo-philosoph sometimes, spouting quotables like "when did the world become so gray?" - he'd tried to give her something to think on when she was growing up. And then the person in their life that held everything together had suddenly been gone and he'd stopped being a pseudo-philosoph who tried to make her think and he'd become a paranoid father who just wanted to keep her close to him. His hold on her tightened every time she tried to give herself space. Constricting her with grief and paranoia and a sense of fear that ran so deep in him after her mother's passing that she was sure it would never leave. It would only continue to manifest in the need to keep her as close to him as possible, which only ensured that she wanted to be as far away as physically possible.

Which meant she left home as soon as she could. The job on the Green couldn't have come at a better time. Alan Scott wanted heroes that could and would do whatever needed to be done. She'd do whatever needed to be done on the space station, taking guard positions mostly, sometimes transporting supplies, sometimes she was with the engineers. The Green wasn't just an energy construct anymore, like it had been in the beginning of its life. She had watched it grow from her home in New York over the course of her childhood, witnessing the glittering and translucent construct turn into something more solid and official. And what was more official than a space station run by the oldest GL on Earth?

She'd be lying if she said it wasn't some of the best days of her life. The station was a good place. After the war was over, she could do whatever she wanted in her off time. Borrow a cruiser and star-slide off into the Vegan system. Fly to Earth and see Avia or Ibn or Alura or anyone that she thought of while she spent her nights on the space station, staring out at the blue orb covered in swirling clouds and beautiful green.

But mostly, she spent her off time dodging calls from her dad. Even these days, with the war over and their relationship sort of patched up (as patched up as it could be), she was still avoiding him. Taking extra shifts on the Green, and when she did pick up, telling him that there was an emergency and no, she couldn't talk, sending messages through Bruce if she could. He was just trying to be too close, too soon.

Too soon after the war, too soon after their apologies. She needed to acclimate. Needed to be with him in increments. But he wanted to spend whole days with her, whole weeks. He wanted to take vacations that they had missed and wanted to have lunch every day or take her to dinner when she got home from the station or wanted Sunday breakfast every week. And she couldn't handle it. It was like she was a teenager all over again, suffocated by a loving and paranoid father. Looking at the outside world through a looking glass, knowing that she could never have what everyone else had because her family just happened to be visited by rare circumstance.

Which is probably how she ended up here, screaming as they tried to stop the world from imploding again. She hadn't asked him to be here, much less wanted him to be here but that was no different from any time between the ages of fourteen and twenty-three.

"Then go away!" Her shout echoed, cutting through the cacophony. And it hung between them. It settled there. Made its home in her dad's heart and burrowed as deep as it could.

She'd never meant to say it but it came out anyway. Her feelings had burst out of her chest and wounded him, just like they always did when they butted heads. They'd say something hurtful and know that they meant it in the moment and that made it worse. They meant it. They regretted it but they both knew that those barbs they flung had been meant to sting. Mar'i covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

And then she was making excuses for herself and her dad was taking them in stride, asking her all the questions the child psychologist had asked when he mom had died. Why did she say that? What was that about? They were brushed aside as they rushed forward, trying to focus on a mission they never thought they'd have to face again. The end of the world rushed at them full force again and Mar'i had to wonder how many times in her life (she was only twenty-five) she'd have to face the end of the world or how many times she would be tasked with saving it because she had chosen this path in life.

She knew it wasn't supposed to be glamorous but come on, chasing down a childhood friend in the middle of a universe-wide crisis while trying to keep herself from exploding at her dad? Out of all the things she hadn't expected, that had to be the biggest surprise of her life. World ending? No big deal. Chasing down Randy while trying to keep herself and her dad together? What had she ever done to deserve that particular burden.

And she was scared. There was that.

Her mom had never been scared, not even when she was dying. And here Mar'i was, on the edge of the death of her world as she knew it, yelling at her dad and trying to pretend that there weren't tears rolling down her face and into the fur on Randy's neck as she tried to restrain him. And it led back to one thing.

The death of the universe, the death of her mother, the unimaginable, ill-advised promise that her dad had made her in (what he thought would be) a throwaway moment in her childhood. He promised her he wouldn't die. Promised her that her mother wouldn't die. And now they stood on the edge of the end of the world and that was the only thing she could think of - Dick promising her that he wouldn't die (couldn't die) and that they'd all be fine. And then she'd watched as her mother withered away. And she'd watched as her friends died on the battlefield. She'd felt the far away warmth of the atomic explosion and had known that she probably wouldn't see anyone she loved again. It'd been a stroke of luck - good or bad, take your pick - that she and Dick had survived. That Bruce and Ibn had survived.

Dick was trying to comfort her and she unleashed a starbolt. A bad idea. An awful thing to do to her father but she couldn't help it. She threw starbolt after starbolt as he tumbled over the hard floor of the Green, protesting as he went.

"You promised me you wouldn't die!" Another starbolt. "You can't keep a promise like that! No one can!" Her hands were buzzing with energy as she stood over him, their positions serving to further off-set his age with Mar'i set up as the younger, stronger version of him. His hand was raised to shield his face. And the energy left in her hands evaporated.

And he reached out to her.

And for the first time since their reconciliation, she took it.