A/N: Hello! A massive thank-you to Jassss and dorizard for reviewing, and also to JimmyHall24 for favouriting. It's terrific to know that there are people enjoying this story, and I'm glad that my effort isn't just for me.

I would say we're at about the halfway point of the story (maybe a bit beyond). Today's chapter is quite long, so happy reading!

Chapter Twelve: A Study in Pink

Wonder Woman stared in concern at the mass of crystal currently occupying the middle of the Watchtower's laboratory.

"How did this happen?" she demanded.

"Star Sapphire," Batman growled. He was already at work analyzing the chips of crystal he'd cut from the blocks in S.T.A.R. Labs.

"So it is her?" Superman's relatively even tone could not entirely disguise the righteous anger simmering in his words. Seeing his own teammates encased in the dreaded pink crystal had all but banished any reluctance to believe in Star Sapphire's culpability.

"Saw her do it with our own eyes, Supes," said Flash.

Superman nodded grimly. "Then she has to be stopped. As soon as possible. Any idea where she went?"

"I presume she's still in Coast City," replied Doctor Fate. "I would have attempted to track her when she first disappeared, but we were trying to free J'onn and Zatara."

Wonder Woman shifted her gaze from the trapped duo to look at the others. "I don't understand how the three of you —" She gestured towards Doctor Fate, Batman, and Flash. "— weren't affected by the crystal at all." Flash coughed, causing Diana to zero in on him. "You weren't, were you?"

"Ah…there might've been some…minimal effects," Flash hedged.

"Stop trying to downplay it, Flash," Batman ordered without looking up from his microscope. "You were under for a full minute."

"What?" Superman was aghast.

"Hey, I vibrated myself out before it could do whatever weird stasis thing it was going to do. I'm fine," Flash said hastily.

"That is yet to be seen," said Batman. "I want you on the Watchtower tonight for observation."

"Wha— the whole night?"

"I want to make sure there are no side-effects."

"Bats!" Flash protested. He looked around the room for help. "Come on, guys," he pleaded.

"It's a good idea," Wonder Woman shot him down. Doctor Fate had already decided not to interfere, so Flash turned hopefully to Superman.

"Sorry, Wally, I agree with Bruce," the Man of Steel said apologetically. "From the sound of it, you barely escaped joining J'onn and Zatara in suspended animation."

Flash's face fell. "I don't believe this. Come on, Bats, have a heart," he begged. "I have a date tonight — Linda will be so mad if I cancel on her again. I swear, I'm fine."

"You have two choices," Batman told him, still without looking up. "One: you stop talking now and stay on the Watchtower for the night. Two: you can keep complaining, and you still stay on the Watchtower, but I'll handcuff you to a bed in medbay."

Flash glowered at the back of the Dark Knight's head. "…Fine. Option number one." He groaned. "You're a real killjoy, you know that? This has to be like the fifth time you've made me break a date with Linda."

"She's still going out with you after more than a year. If your excuses haven't driven her off yet, I doubt one more broken date will."

"Well, you'd better be right about that, Bruce," Flash said with some asperity. "Because I really like Linda." He dashed out, presumably to call his girlfriend and plead forgiveness.

Superman sighed. "He's not too happy with us, is he?"

"He doesn't like being babysat," Doctor Fate supplied.

"We'll make it up to him," Wonder Woman promised. "What about you two?" she asked Fate and Batman. "Did the crystal do anything to you?"

"It didn't touch me," Doctor Fate assured her.

Batman said nothing.

"Bruce?" Wonder Woman turned to him, her voice firm.

"It tried. Didn't seem to work."

Wonder Woman opened her mouth to say something, but Superman headed her off with a shake of his head. Batman had that edge to his tone that indicated he was getting increasingly annoyed with the constant interruptions to his work.

"Come on, Diana, let's let Bruce and Kent do their research." He took her arm and led her out of the room, casting a solemn glance at the frozen forms of J'onn and Zatara.

Carol was woken by the muffled ringing of her cell phone. It took at least five repeats of her chiming ringtone for her to wake up enough to realize she should answer, and another four before her scrambling fingers located the phone under a crumpled section of her quilt. She just about managed to hit the receive button before the call went to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Carol," Hector Hammond responded. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Hm? Oh, no — I was just asleep."

"Asleep?" Hector sounded mildly surprised. "It's barely dark out."

"What?" Carol whipped her head around to stare out her window and saw that it was, indeed, still late twilight. When did I fall asleep? She frowned. More importantly, why did I fall asleep?

"Carol? Are you still there?"

Carol pulled her attention back to the conversation. "Yes, I'm here. Sorry. I was just trying to figure out what time I fell asleep. I must have laid down for a quick nap and completely dozed off."

"I think you're overworking yourself, Carol."

"Probably," she agreed ruefully. Truth be told, she was getting a little concerned about how often she seemed to be taking unplanned naps, losing track of time, or forgetting what she was doing lately. Overwork would explain everything, and it was more palatable than some other possible diagnoses (a brain tumor, for example). No, stress, she decided, had to be it. Even Hal had observed just yesterday that she was putting herself under a lot of pressure to make sure the Peregrine 2.0 did not go the way of its predecessor.

"You should take a break every once in a while," Hector continued. "Humans need leisure time too. It's a biological need to reduce the amount of stress hormones in your body."

"This coming from a man who never seems to have time to meet up?" Carol asked teasingly. Since reconnecting with Hector a little over two months ago, she had been talking more with him over the phone. Hector had grown into a confidant for her, always willing to listen to her vent her frustrations about a certain USAF pilot — and, having known Hal almost as long as she had, Hector was also in a unique position to offer insights and advice. Carol had proposed meeting for lunch to catch up more than once, but Hector had always regretfully turned her down, citing his workload at S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Actually, that's what I'm calling about," said Hector. "I've had an unexpected…development in my current project, which has freed up my schedule a bit. Are you free tonight? We can go to dinner. My treat, for keeping you waiting."

"Tonight?" Carol hedged. "Hector, I'd love to, but I'm this close to the Peregrine test, and —"

"Nothing's going wrong with the Peregrine this time, Carol. What happened last time was a fluke — there's no way there'll be a repeat incident with a company the caliber of Ferris Air — particularly not with such a brilliant vice-president at the helm."

Despite herself, Carol smiled at the flattery.

"Besides," went on Hector, "weren't we just talking about how you need a break?"

"We were," Carol admitted.

"Precisely. So how about it? Because I'm not sure when I'll have another free evening."

Carol took a peek at the clock. "Okay, Hector — give me an hour to settle my work and get ready, then I'll meet you…where do you want to eat?"

"McDuffie's?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you there."

As she hung up, she noticed three missed calls and a text from Hal. The text explained that he'd called to tell her that his examination of the Peregrine blueprints showed nothing amiss. We're good to go, he'd written. That was reassuring, definitely — but Carol was wondering how she'd missed his three calls in the first place. Given how easily she'd woken up when her phone started ringing, any one of them should have woken her up before Hector called.

"…absolutely nothing, Kyle, and that's what worries me."

Rex Mason looked on sympathetically from the dining table, where he was clipping sheaves of 'MISSING' posters together. He was trying not to look at the face depicted on them — he didn't need anymore reminders of who should have been here in his place.

Honestly, John, four years in Afghanistan, and you go missing in Detroit? That's backwards, man.

Beside him, Carrie Stewart sighed sadly, and Rex immediately chided himself. Whatever worry he was feeling for John right now, John's mother was probably feeling ten times magnified.

You wouldn't think it to look at her, though. The Stewart matriarch must have had iron embedded in her spine. In the two weeks since John had disappeared, Carrie had hounded Detroit PD into opening up a Missing Persons case before the requisite 24 hours, spread the news about her son's absence, and mobilized what appeared to be the half the city's eastern sector. Apparently John was well-known and well-liked by his neighborhood — people knew him as 'that responsible Stewart boy', who had helped take care of his family after the death of his father, then bravely volunteered to fight for the country before returning home a decorated war veteran.

"This is difficult for James," said Carrie. "I'm glad he has that Rayner boy to lean on."

"Kyle lives in Los Angeles, doesn't he?" said Rex. "How did James meet him?"

"Summer camp," Carrie explained. "And then they bonded over art. They became instant friends."

"Have you ever met Kyle?"

"Once. He's a very nice boy. And he's the only person James can talk superhero with."

Rex raised an eyebrow. "Superhero?"

"Oh, James has an absolute fascination with Green Lantern," Carrie confided with a small smile. "Kyle's favorite is Superman, which leads to some interesting discussions."

"Interesting, as in they argue over which one's better?" Rex said wryly.

Carrie chuckled. "It's an everlasting argument, and anything from moral codes to color schemes is fair game when it comes to factors to judge them by."

Carol met Hector ten minutes past the hour she had promised at McDuffie's — a pleasant, mid-scale restaurant in one of the quieter areas of town. Her apologies and excuse about there being more work to settle than she had anticipated were ready to spill from her lips when Hector hushed her.

"It's all right, Carol, I know you have a lot to do," he said with a smile. "Don't worry, I wasn't waiting long. Besides, we're here to relax. Let's not talk about work tonight. Deal?"

"Deal," Carol agreed, returning his smile with one of her own. "What shall we talk about?"

Hector laughed as he waved a waiter over for the menu. "Anything but work," he said warmly.

There was an air of near-total silence on the Watchtower that night, which ordinarily would have suited Batman just fine. As billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, he rarely got a minute to himself, and when he was wearing the cowl, he was constantly surrounded either by unsavory environments, rowdy criminals, or chattering teammates. One of the reasons why he'd made his headquarters in an underground cave was to satisfy his need for peaceful solitude, as that was the state in which he worked most effectively.

Tonight, though, the quiet was unnerving, because there were four people with him in the laboratory, and none of them was making any noise.

Trying to shrug it off, Batman unwrapped the electronic monitor cuff from Flash's arm. "We're done," he said, and his deep voice was like the crack of a whip in the unnatural stillness.

"And?"

"Everything looks normal."

"I could have told you that," Flash said testily, hopping off the chair. He glanced at the digital time display over the door of the lab; it was set to Eastern Standard Time, and currently it read 00:15. "You're still not letting me go home yet, are you?"

"I'll need to take repeat readings at least twice more during the night. We need to be absolutely certain that your system doesn't have any delayed reaction to the contact with the crystal."

"You mean you need to be certain," Flash shot at him. "Because apparently you can't trust what I have to say about my own body."

"I didn't —"

"You know, Batman, when I say I have a hyper-accelerated metabolism, I mean it literally. I don't have delayed reactions. If nothing's happened by now, nothing's going to. Logically, I could go home right now."

"It's 11:15 in Central City. You would still have missed your date."

"Gee, I wonder whose fault that is," Flash retorted.

"Flash —"

"What time do you need me to come in for the next test?" Flash cut him off.

Batman frowned. "2:30."

"Fine. I'll see you then." Flash sped out of the lab before the Gothamite could blink.

The slightest of coughs drew Batman's attention to the only other moving person on the Watchtower.

"Enjoying the show?" he asked archly.

"Honestly? Yes," Doctor Fate admitted. "It isn't often that Wally gets this riled. For a redhead, he's remarkably even-tempered. It reminds me of how Barry used to react whenever Ted started lecturing him."

Batman said nothing, diverting his gaze to the microscope under which he was studying crystal shards.

"It is also," Doctor Fate continued, "quite enlightening about his current state of mind."

At that, Batman turned sharply. "You think the crystal affected his mind?"

"I can't say anything for certain," Doctor Fate cautioned. "Hard light is not my area of expertise, but the more I study this particular crystal, the more apparent it becomes that there is some sort of mystical element involved in it as well."

"What have you discovered?"

"It would seem that the design of this crystal is meant to evoke the memories of lost love," said Fate. "Which makes it particularly effective against anyone who has ever lost a loved one — and especially those whose grief is still strong."

Batman's eyes narrowed in contemplation, casting a scrutinizing glance at their two crystallized teammates. "J'onn still mourns the loss of his planet and his family. Zatara never truly got over his wife's death, and in a way, he would have grieved the years he missed in Zatanna's life."

"My thoughts exactly. And I have noticed that Wally still grows moody on the 19th of every month."

"Barry's date of death," Batman noted.

"Indeed."

"There's a flaw in your theory, though," Batman pointed out. "I wasn't affected by the crystal…"

"Actually —"

"…aside from the few shards that grew on my suit, and they came off easily enough."

"Bruce," Doctor Fate said, abruptly shifting to civilian names, "in all honesty, when was the last time you thought of your parents before today?"

Batman frowned, not because he was angry, but because he actually had to pause to think about his answer.

"I'm not sure. It's been a while."

"Precisely my point. Your parents died over twenty-six years ago, and you've grown a great deal since then. The human spirit is very resilient, and despite your best efforts to hold on to the hurt and the sense of injustice that you think fuels your actions as Batman, you've healed. Against your better judgment, you've let the pain of losing your parents go, and all that's left is a bittersweet memory. Am I right?"

Fate's gentle challenge hung in the air for a long moment before Batman spoke again, his face completely expressionless and his voice calm.

"That's quite an insight." It was neither a confirmation or denial of Fate's deduction, but the sorcerer knew he was right.

"It's easy to be insightful when one recognises what one has gone through oneself."

Batman raised an eyebrow at this. He hadn't known that Fate had gone through a similar experience to his — but then, there was a lot he didn't know about the enigmatic sorcerer, despite all his research. Of all the people in the League, Wonder Woman and Wildcat were the only ones who could claim to truly know the man behind the Helm of Nabu.

"Who did you lose?"

"My father," answered Doctor Fate, very straightforward. "When I was six years old I accompanied him on an archaeological expedition. I foolishly opened a tomb, accidentally releasing the poison gas that killed him."

The Dark Knight's face shifted in an almost imperceptible wince. "That was unfortunate." Condolences would be out of place in this conversation.

"Indeed. It took me years, but I moved on. I have no lingering grief over my father's death, which is why Star Sapphire's crystal could not touch me."

"You must have lost others since then," Batman pointed out. He was still trying to pinpoint exactly what criteria had to be met for the crystal to entrap someone.

"True," Doctor Fate admitted. "I've lost many dear friends — Jay Garrick, Alan Scott, and Barry Allen among them. I'm immortal — it comes with the territory. But none of their passings evoked the pain or longing I felt when my father died."

"So the crystal needs there to be a deeply-entrenched grief, and a sense of longing for a departed person," Batman mused.

"It would seem so. I'm not certain whether the emotions have to be tied to a deceased individual, or simply one who isn't around for whatever reason."

"It's enough to go on, for now." Batman looked thoughtful. "If you're right, it would explain why J'onn, Zatara, and Flash were affected — but it doesn't explain how Flash got himself out."

Doctor Fate suggested pointedly, "Perhaps scientific readings are not the tools you need in this case."

"…and I think I've nearly figured it out," Hector said as he refilled both his and Carol's wine glasses.

Despite their agreement not to talk about anything work-related, Carol and Hector had somehow breezed through chats about family, travel plans, hobbies, high school reminisces, and the latest movies, before finally landing on the topic of the current epidemic of crystallized men. Naturally, once Carol brought it up, the conversation inevitably shifted to Hector's assignment by Cadmus to figure out how to neutralize Star Sapphire (though he didn't say it in so many words).

"You really think Star Sapphire's the one behind the crystal trappings?" Carol was as yet unconvinced this was the case, but inexplicably, she felt a light echo of guilt whenever she considered the possibility of Star Sapphire's involvement in Coast City's most bizarre crime spree.

"It fits," Hector insisted. "Even in her earliest appearances, she demonstrated a very hard attitude against the criminals she stopped. With her power, she could have easily lost what few principles she had and turned into an all-out supervillain."

"Imagine that," Carol said lightly, covering her sudden unease with a laugh. "Coast City's first very own supervillain."

Hector frowned slightly at what he saw as her casual attitude about a serious problem, but he chose to let her flippant comment pass. Carol really had been working herself to the bone lately — serious conversation was the last thing she wanted right now, and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting that.

Time to change the subject.

"Well, that's enough about that. We've finished dinner. Are you up for dessert?" he proposed.

"Sure," Carol replied readily. "Who knows when you'll next have a free night? I might as well take full advantage of this very rare opportunity to spend time with you."

She smiled warmly at him, and he smiled back easily.

He'd always had a soft spot for her.

It didn't take long for Batman to locate Flash. The unhappy speedster was in the Watchtower's extensive gym, venting his frustrations the only way he could: by running.

Before Barry's death, Wally hadn't really needed an outlet for his emotions. After the messy and tragic business with Zoom, however, his normally happy-go-lucky demeanor had dimmed for a while, and the emotional turmoil of losing his uncle, coming to terms with Zoom's role in his past, and nearly dying himself necessitated finding a way for him to let off some steam every now and then. It came as no surprise to anyone that raw speed proved to be the best method for doing this. Linda Park had been very understanding and had proved to be a great help in the difficult first few months after Barry died (which was one of the reasons why Wally was so attached to her), but nothing calmed a speedster down like a couple of laps around the globe. Of course, Wally couldn't do that when he had to stay on the Watchtower for League duties, so Green Lantern and Hawkgirl came up with the idea to modify a treadmill for Wally's needs. It took a fantastic amount of tinkering and reconstruction to ensure the treadmill could keep up with the Flash's speed without totally disintegrating, but they'd done it. The 'Cosmic Treadmill', as Hal had nicknamed it — "Because, you know, it's a treadmill in space" — had done its part in keeping Wally sane not just in the aftermath of Barry's death, but also whenever he felt claustrophobic on the space station and felt the urge to run.

Nowadays Wally used the treadmill more for actual training, or to relieve the boredom of being cooped up in the Watchtower, rather than as a metaphorical punching bag, but it was quite clear that he wasn't running for practice tonight. The Scarlet Speedster was nothing more than a red blur on the whirring treadmill, contained golden lightning flickering around his form.

"Flash, we need to talk."

To Batman's human, non-Speed Force-enhanced eyes, the Flash's rate of movement remained the same, but it was obvious from the sudden increase in lightning and the whine of the overstressed treadmill that Wally had upped his running speed considerably.

"Wally."

The lightning streaks turned into a golden net. The treadmill's complaint became higher-pitched.

Stubborn as always, Batman mused. It was so typically clichéd for a speedster to attempt to run from his problems. Batman, however, kept a careful record of each Leaguer's capabilities, and he knew that Wally couldn't sustain such a high speed for long. He crossed his arms and waited for the redhead to tire himself out.

In a matter of minutes Flash was forced to slow down, the lightning going back to controlled levels and the treadmill returning to its constant gentle hum.

Still Batman waited. Wally was far more used to this pace and could maintain it for much longer than his previous frenetic rhythm.

After nearly half an hour, the Dark Knight's patience was finally rewarded as Flash slowed to a stop, shut off the treadmill, and sat down heavily on the platform, panting.

"You…are one stubborn bastard," the redhead informed him.

"I've been called worse," Batman said evenly.

"I'll bet." Wally pulled off his cowl, revealing messy red hair and troubled green eyes. "Why are you here, Bruce?"

"I need to find out more about how the crystal affected you."

Wally scowled. "And all the tests you're going to be doing on me tonight aren't enough to figure that out?"

"The tests will only give me information about your physical condition. I need to assess your mental state."

Wally immediately scoffed. "I don't believe you, Bruce. If you seriously think a pink crystal is going me make me crazy…"

"Wally, Doctor Fate has a theory that contact with the crystal brings certain painful memories to mind."

Wally stiffened, his eyes clouding over with pain.

"It showed you your uncle, didn't it." Batman's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to. Fate and I have come to the conclusion that the crystal works on emotion — specifically, grief for a loved one. You're the only one who's managed to get out of it; I need to know what you did, or felt, that enabled you to escape. It could be the key to freeing J'onn and Zatara — and all of Star Sapphire's victims."

"I don't know, Bruce," Wally said wearily. "All I remember is panicking because that crystal was going to close me in — and then all I could think about was Uncle Barry."

"How did you feel?" Batman pressed. Before the speedster could get upset again, he stressed, "Wally, it's important."

The redhead shot him a scathing look. "How do you think I felt? Lord, Bruce — I would have thought you, of all people, would understand…"

"Apparently I don't."

"…given how you…what?" Wally paused, confused. "What do you mean, you don't?"

Bruce coughed. "It's been brought to my attention that I may no longer be as fixated on my parents' deaths as I think I am."

Wally stared blankly at him. "What?"

"I don't grieve for them anymore, Wally," Bruce said bluntly, honestly. "It will always hurt knowing what happened to my parents, but somehow — even though I thought I would never be able to — I've…moved on. I'm ashamed to admit I barely think of them anymore. I will always wonder what my life would have been like if my parents had lived, but I don't long for them the way I used to."

Wally was stunned. "Where did this come from?" he exclaimed. "Since when could Batman — the Dark Knight of vengeance, the Caped Crusader himself — admit that the reason he became Batman in the first place…doesn't exist anymore?"

"My reasons are unchanged. I'm just not as obsessed as I once was. Though I will admit that it took some deep psychoanalysis from Fate to make me realize it."

Wally huffed. "Doctor Fate. Figures. He has about twenty different PhD's, and I'm sure psychology is one of them."

"Quite possibly."

Wally exhaled. "So…you think the crystal got me because I'm still grieving for Barry and I haven't moved on yet?"

Batman nodded.

"You're probably right," Wally admitted bitterly. "I know it's been over a year, and I know I told Hal not to dwell on the loss…but I haven't quite been able to let him go. I'm not…depressed, or anything, but…" He shrugged helplessly.

"But you miss him too much and you still blame yourself for his death."

Wally's head shot up in incredulity. "How do you —"

"You're not the only one who's ever felt this way," Bruce reminded him. "I blamed myself for my parents' deaths too, and Fate blamed himself for his father's death. And I'm willing to bet good money that Hal still blames himself for Ace's death."

Wally nodded. "He does." Then he laughed self-deprecatingly. "You know, when you put it that way, it seems like a lot of us heroes like to play the blame game."

Bruce smiled wryly. "There's a reason they call it a hero complex."

"No kidding." Wally smiled, his first genuine smile since they'd fought Star Sapphire. "Bruce, my emotions are kind of a mess right now — I'm not sure what I'm feeling or what I should be feeling, and I'm sure as hell not sure what I was feeling in that damn crystal. Once I have a handle on it all and manage to sort out my head, I'll try to pinpoint how I escaped the crystal, and I'll tell you. All right?"

"All right," Batman conceded. "You'll probably manage it faster if you're at home."

Wally blinked. "I thought you wanted to do more tests?"

"I've decided they're unnecessary. You're right — it's your body, and you know it best. If you say you're fine, I believe you."

"Wow. That's…really cool of you, Bats. Thanks." Wally grinned. "You know, since you're being amazingly open tonight, mind if I ask why exactly you were so insistent about doing the tests in the first place?"

Batman gave him a look, but he replied, "I'm a paranoid person, Wally. I look for the worst-case scenario in every situation. And I was hoping that testing you would give me an idea about how to reverse the crystallization. Zatanna is going to be up here tomorrow and I don't relish the idea of telling her what's happened to her father, particularly if I have no leads on how to free him."

Wally considered that for a moment, looking thoughtful. "You really do care, don't you?"

Batman scoffed. "I'm not a heartless bastard, Wally. I'm no touchy-feely person like a certain someone I could name…" Wally smirked. "…but I'm not an emotionless robot either."

"Yeah…I guess I've never realized that before." Truth be told, Wally had always been under the impression that Batman — and even Bruce Wayne — was a pretty cold, logic-driven character, overly focused on the mission objective at the expense of any true personal attachments — the exact opposite of Wally himself. Even when Wally had discovered that Bruce did have a softer side, he'd assumed that it was reserved solely for his 'Bat family' (Alfred, Dick, Jason, Barbara) and his closest League friends — people like Superman, Zatanna, and Wonder Woman. Wally had never thought that Batman's opinion of him would ever rise beyond that of a trustworthy colleague, especially given how the Gothamite treated him most of the time. Finding out that Bruce actually did like him, and cared enough to be paranoid about his well-being, was strangely heartwarming for the young speedster.

"Thank you, Bruce."

"Don't mention it," Batman replied, absolutely seriously. "I've got a reputation to maintain."

Wally laughed. "And I suppose you'll deny this conversation ever happened."

"I won't have to, because if you know what's good for you, you won't say a word about it."

"Yeah, probably not," Wally agreed. "Besides, who's going to believe me?" He winked before pulling his cowl back over his head. "Goodnight, Bruce." He zipped off towards the transporter room.

John Stewart was rather taken aback to find, upon his landing back on Earth for the first time in over a fortnight, that posters with his face on them were plastered all over his neighborhood. Upon closer inspection, he recognized his mother's wording and his brother's careful lettering, and he felt a pang of guilt for leaving them without any explanation. Granted, he hadn't had a choice, what with the ring on his finger abducting him to a planet at the center of the universe — but that didn't diminish the worry and fear his family must have gone through in the last two weeks.

"I don't believe it!" someone cried, and John turned to see Al the cab driver staring incredulously at him, leaning so far out the window of his car that he was in danger of falling out. "John Stewart, is that you?!"

"In the flesh." John jogged over to Al's cab, uncaring of the curious glances he was attracting in his Green Lantern uniform and the slight green glow he was emanating in the nighttime darkness. It was the choice of each individual Green Lantern whether they wanted to maintain a secret identity or not, and John had already decided that he wasn't going to bother.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Al exclaimed. "Where've you been, son? The neighborhood's been pulling out all the stops to try and find you."

John winced. "Have they really?"

"Well, what else do you think they'd have done? You just upped and disappeared! Your mother and brother have been worrying themselves sick." Al frowned and squinted even more closely at John. "Son, what are you wearing?"

"Um…"

"Wait a sec, I've seen that symbol before." Al stared at the insignia on John's chest, suddenly gulping. "That's Green Lantern's symbol, isn't it? Jumping gargoyles, John, is that where you've been? Are you the new Green Lantern? James told me the original hasn't been seen for a while."

John hesitated, wondering how much to reveal. He wasn't fussed about concealing his new responsibilities, but neither was he going to tell people more than what was necessary for them to know. The vast majority of the Green Lantern Corps' affairs didn't even involve Earth, let alone Detroit. On top of that, most people in Detroit — with the exception of James — knew more about Superman and the Flash than the Green Lantern. Coast City was just too far away for them to be more familiar with John's predecessor; and what little Al knew about him had probably come from James.

James, who was going to completely flip when he found out his brother was the new Green Lantern of Sector 2814.

"It's a long story," John said finally. "Listen, Al, I'll tell you more some other time, but I really need to explain everything to my family first." Carrie and James would possibly be the only two people on Earth who were going to get the full story from John. As they were his family, he owed them that much. The Corps was, after all, currently embroiled in an interplanetary war, and John could be called to participate in a battle against the Qwardians at any moment. He thought it was mightily ironic that he'd retired from the United States Marines only to be drafted into an even more dangerous corps in the middle of a space conflict. His mother and brother deserved to know what could possibly happen to him. Al was a close family friend, so he would probably get more than the rest of the public would, but John wouldn't be telling him nearly as much as he was going to tell his family.

"Sure, of course." Al nodded understandingly. "You'd better get to it, then, before one of these folks here makes a trip to the Stewart residence." He gazed meaningfully at the bystanders on the street.

"Thanks, Al." John started walking towards his apartment building, but then he reconsidered.

What the hell, he thought, fingering his ring. He might as well adapt to using it on Earth and around other people.

With a mere thought, John's green aura brightened, and he rose smoothly from the road, inciting gasps of shock from the watching Detroiters as he blazed a glowing trail in the night sky. Even if people hadn't noticed his uniform before, or thought they were seeing things, there could be no doubt in their minds now about his new status. By morning, the news would be all over the city, and by the end of the week, the whole country would know that the Green Lantern had returned.

A/N: As always, reviews are welcome, appreciated, and very very lovely.