A/N: Happy New Year, everybody! (belated as it is). Here's a brand new chapter to mark 2020, one of my absolute favourites in the entire story. I hope you enjoy reading the pivotal conversation in this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter Eighteen: Lay It Out in Black and White

Hal munched on a cold tuna sandwich (the closest thing to a meal he had had the time and inclination to rustle up) as he slipped a pen drive into his home computer and started browsing the files on it. He'd used his clearance as a U.S.A.F. pilot to pull some strings and get a trusted military techie friend of his to dig up any information available on Debbie Darnell. Tom had copied Darnell's employment records from Ferris Air and handed them to Hal as well, and Hal had compiled everything on this pen drive for his perusal when he had the opportunity to look at it. With his increasingly busy schedule, it had taken almost a week from the failure of the second Peregrine before he was able to find a window of time to sit down and really look at Darnell's information properly.

Darnell's employment file was the first thing he clicked on. It didn't contain much more than her basic information (name, age, email, etc.), record at the company (diligent, but modest) and her resume, which was strangely sparse. Darnell mentioned graduating with an aviation degree from some university Hal had never heard of, but she had no prior work experience — Ferris Air was her first job. While that wasn't odd in and of itself, the fact that she had been assigned to help out on the flight test of the company's most important project in a decade as a relative rookie was — as was the brief note in her file which revealed that Carol had recruited her personally for both the company and the Peregrine project.

Hal frowned, unable to determine why Carol had taken such an interest in Darnell and trusted her on the Peregrine project when there was nothing in her resume or her company record to indicate that she had been particularly remarkable. She was a solid worker, but nothing special — and to merit the attention of the vice-president of a multibillion dollar company, one had to be either personally connected or professionally excellent. On the basis of her employment records, Darnell did not satisfy the latter criterion, and unless Hal was very much mistaken, she didn't satisfy the former either.

"Who are you, Debbie Darnell?" he wondered aloud, taking another bite of his sandwich.

The doorbell rang, and with a sudden, eerie sense of déjà vu, Hal rose to answer it.

It was Wally — and he wasn't happy. Hal could tell that much from his friend's narrowed eyes and crossed arms, but he hadn't the faintest idea what the speedster was upset about, nor how it related to him.

"Wally?"

Without being invited, Wally stalked into the house, brushing past Hal to pace around the living room — at non-superspeed, to Hal's relief. The carpeting would never withstand the friction otherwise.

"Wally, what's going on?"

The redhead turned around to stare balefully at Hal, but he still didn't speak. Hal was beginning to get a bit irritated.

"Wally, you didn't come all the way out here to give me the silent treatment. Whatever you're mad about, spit it out, or come back when you actually wanna talk."

"I am trying," Wally finally said in a carefully controlled tone, "not to judge. I know it must have been overwhelming, and horrific, and extremely hard to take. I get that you had lost friends, people dear to you. I know everything leading up to that point had tried and tested you and shaken your confidence. So, I am trying to understand it from your point of view…but damn it, Hal, what the hell?!"

Hal gaped at Wally, momentarily stunned. "What?"

"In case you hadn't guessed, I'm talking about your resignation," Wally ground out. "From both the League and the Corps."

Hal frowned. "What about it?"

"Why'd you do it, Hal?"

"What d'you mean, why'd I do it? Why's it matter?"

"It matters a hell of a lot, Hal. Why did you do it?"

Hal huffed in disbelief. "Why are you bringing this up now? It's been nearly a month. And the last time we spoke about this, you said there was nothing wrong with giving up this life."

"That was when I thought you had legitimately thought it through!" Wally exclaimed. "I accepted your decision because I thought you'd taken the time to consider everything and decided that it would actually be best for you to give up the ring. Instead, I find out that you made a spur-of-the-moment choice because you wanted to run away."

Hal's eyes flashed. "You're one to talk," he retorted scathingly. "Your whole schtick is running, and remind me why we have a Cosmic Treadmill up at the Watchtower again?"

Wally scowled darkly at him. "Low blow, Hal. It's not the same thing and you know it."

He was right. A part of Hal regretted comparing what he'd done to Wally's natural desire to run, but he was defensive and lashing out.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged. "Go on, then, tell me — how is it any different from you?"

Wally glared. "I don't run from my problems, Hal. I run to help people, that's what I do. And I use that damn treadmill to clear my head so I don't make stupid decisions like resigning from the League."

"How can you call it a stupid decision if you don't know why I did it?"

"The new GL told Hawkgirl there's some sort of war going on between the Corps and the Thunderers of Qward, and that the first devastating battle on Oa was around a month ago. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together." Wally's stare bored into Hal. "So, are you going to tell me that your resignation wasn't about running away from that?"

Pushing aside the fact that his former fellow Leaguers had met his successor, Hal exclaimed, "Can you blame me? Wally, you didn't see what I saw. Half of Oa destroyed, hundreds of dead Lanterns — many of them were my friends — and all of it caused by someone I once trusted with my life!"

"Sinestro," Wally realised suddenly.

"Yeah, him! The bastard taught me everything I know about being a Green Lantern, and then he tries to wipe out the entire Corps!"

"So because your mentor goes to the dark side and kills your friends, you just leave?" Wally demanded incredulously. "Hal, you're a military man! You've seen war before and you've never given up! I get that Sinestro's betrayal hurt, but the Hal Jordan I know wouldn't have thrown in the towel just because of one awful battle!"

"Well, maybe I'm not who everyone seems to think I am!" Carol, Arisia, Star Sapphire, the Guardians, now Wally — everyone appeared to think that Hal was some great person with indomitable will and courage — and maybe he had been once, but he wasn't anymore.

"Hal, why did you resign?"

"Because I can't do it anymore!" Hal cried. "That strong, confident Green Lantern? Yeah, he died with Ace, Arisia, and the countless other individuals who lost their lives last month!"

"You've lost people before without breaking down," Wally pointed out. "For God's sake, Hal, you've lost friends in battles before and you've always continued on and got the job done."

"It's different this time, Wally."

"Like hell it is. Whether it's the U.S.A.F. or the GL Corps, the principle is exactly the same."

"It's different," Hal hissed — and maybe it was the raw guilt in his voice or the desperation on his face, but Wally finally stopped his stormy tirade and looked closely at his friend.

"How is it different?" demanded the speedster, unwittingly echoing Hal's previous challenge from earlier in the conversation; the former Green Lantern winced at the reminder, though he didn't think Wally had done it on purpose.

"You really wanna know?" he said bitterly.

"Yeah, Hal, I really do."

In a voice filled with self-loathing and disgust, Hal answered, "It's different because I couldn't save them."

Wally blinked uncomprehendingly. "How is that different from losses in the Air Force?"

Hal laughed self-deprecatingly — it was not a pleasant sound. "Because I had a much better resource as a Green Lantern than I do as a pilot, Wally. I had a goddamn cosmic ring that can do fucking anything, and I still couldn't save the people I cared about. What the fuck does that say about me?"

Wally blew out his breath in a long, loud exhale. "Nobody's perfect, Hal."

"I never said I was. I sure as hell have screwed up enough times in other parts of my life. But in the areas where I absolutely needed to be at the top of my game…I wasn't. I failed, and people died because of it. I can't lose anyone else to my mistakes — I can't have anyone else's blood on my hands."

Wally placed his hands on his hips and stared very hard at Hal, willing his stubborn friend understand. "Hal, if you failed that night on Oa, then so did a thousand other Green Lanterns."

Hal shook his head. "Wally, I knew Sinestro was acting strangely. I picked up that something wasn't quite right months before anything happened. If I had called attention to it earlier, maybe we could have prevented the worst parts of this whole sordid affair. And even after his trial, if I hadn't been so weak, I could've saved Ace, or at least done a better job standing up to Sinestro instead of needing to have my girlfriend sacrifice her life to save my sorry ass from him."

"And maybe," Wally said, raising his voice again to cut through Hal's wallowing, "even if you did everything right, it wouldn't have made one whit of difference anyway. That's how the world works, Hal, you can't keep blaming yourself for — wait, what?" He broke off abruptly as his brain registered exactly what Hal had said. "Girlfriend?"

"Arisia." Hal sighed, deflated. "Another Lantern."

"What happened to Carol?"

Hal winced. "Just…another area I've failed in."

"Jeez, Hal."

Without warning, Wally's arms shot out and pulled Hal into a hug. The older man squirmed at first, but gradually relaxed into the contact.

"I'm sorry, Wally."

"Why didn't you tell me all this?"

"Because I didn't want to admit to my best friend how pathetic I am?" Hal joked weakly.

"Stop it, Hal." Stop putting yourself down, stop feeling sorry for everything that isn't your fault.

There was a beat of silence, then Hal said, "Um, Wally? You can let me go now."

With an exasperated huff, Wally released his grip.

"You're an idiot, Hal."

"Tell me something I don't know." Hal smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Feeling drained, he went over to the couch and sat down. Wally joined him.

"Tell me something, Hal. The ring chooses its bearer, right?"

"Sort of. When a Lantern dies or retires — or resigns — their ring scouts their sector for potential replacements. It picks its own candidates, but the Guardians are the ones who make the final decision on which candidate becomes the new Green Lantern."

"But that didn't happen with you."

"Nope," Hal admitted. "Abin Sur's ring just decided it wanted me, so it kidnapped me."

"The Guardians had no say in it at all?"

"Nope, and they weren't too happy about that."

"I'll bet," Wally muttered. "So, Hal, here's my question: why, in the name of all that is holy, do you think so little of yourself when a 'goddamn cosmic ring that can do fucking anything' decided you're good enough that it didn't want some meddling blue dwarfs selecting anyone else to wear it?"

Hal opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. "I dunno," he said finally. "Maybe that ring had a few screws loose."

"So it was the ring's fault that you couldn't fulfil your duties the way you wanted to?"

Hal shook his head firmly. "No, the ring is the most perfect weapon in the universe."

"Only in the right hands," Wally pointed out.

"Precisely, and I wasn't the right person."

"But the ring wanted you and nobody else. Are you saying it made a mistake when it chose you?"

"Yeah, maybe it did."

"Then it's not perfect," Wally said triumphantly. "Which means you're off the hook."

"What?" said Hal. "No, that's not how it works."

"Either the ring is perfect and so it made the perfect choice when it chose you, or it's not and there's at least a possibility that everything you failed to do with it was down to the ring's flaws, not yours," Wally argued. "It's one or the other, Hal. Which is it?"

"Both. Neither. Hell, I don't know." Hal groaned in frustration. "This argument is going in circles, Wally."

"Because you're going in circles," Wally shot back. "Hal, you can't stubbornly insist that you're the one who failed the ring instead of the other way round, and also say that this apparently perfect ring made a mistake choosing you. It's not logical."

"Why not? People change, Wally. Maybe I was worthy when the ring picked me, but I lost my way." However, a small part of Hal's brain reminded him that the ring hadn't left him until he'd forced it to, and he remembered Ganthet's grave assurance about what that implied regarding his worthiness.

"You don't really believe that," Wally said with conviction. "Hal, why is it so hard for you to accept that sometimes shit happens, and you can't do anything about it? Why do you have to beat yourself up so badly about not being infallible?"

For a long while, Hal did not answer. Wally, for his part, didn't push, instead demonstrating remarkable patience for a speedster while Hal worked through his muddled thoughts.

"I'm scared, Wally," Hal admitted finally, hanging his head. "I never was before, I don't know why — but ever since Sinestro's trial, I've been scared. Seeing him fall from grace like that — straying so far from the path we're supposed to hold true to — and him supposedly being the best, the epitome of a Green Lantern — and he mentored me…It's not just the betrayal, or the people I've lost — although that hurts like hell — it's the fear that…maybe, one day…I might do the same."

Wally had a sudden epiphany. "You're not afraid of losing people," he realised. "You just don't want to confront the fact that you won't always be as good as you need to be."

Hal wearily lifted his head. His expression was pained. "Everybody has all these expectations of me — my family, Carol, U.S.A.F., the League, the Corps, the Guardians — hell, even Star Sapphire expected me to be…more. And on top of that, I have my own expectations of myself — and it stings when I have to lower them because I couldn't meet them. You know what that does to a guy's self-confidence to continually fail to meet his own standards?"

It explained a lot, Wally mused. Why Hal was always reckless and eager to prove himself. Why he pushed himself to the utmost limits and then some as a pilot and a Green Lantern. Why he wrapped himself in an aura of swagger and confidence. His devil-may-care attitude concealed a genuine fear that he wasn't, after all, everything he needed to be, and recent events would have only exacerbated that sense of inadequacy. Sinestro's trial and betrayal proved that even the best of the best could fall; Ace's and Arisia's deaths were devastating evidence of what happened when Hal wasn't good enough.

"It doesn't help," Hal continued, "that I'm apparently supposed to be so amazingly great because of the way I was chosen to be a Green Lantern. The most powerful weapon in the universe defied millennia of protocol and ignored literally billions of other beings to single me out as the only one worthy to wield it, Wally. And even after a truly shit couple of months when I faltered and couldn't use it properly — even after I resigned — the damn thing still wouldn't leave me until I threw it away. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Wally had his answer; he knew why Hal had resigned. With an intergalactic war looming after a horrific attack on Oa, the stakes were supremely high and failure was simply not an option. Hal was terrified of not being able to be the Green Lantern the Corps needed at such a crucial time, and the consequences thereof. He'd given up the ring so he wouldn't have to face that possibility; it was much easier to fulfil his and everyone else's expectations of a mere U.S.A.F. pilot than it was to meet the standards as a Green Lantern, particularly when he was such a unique exception among the Corps.

"Hal, basic fact of the universe: nobody's perfect," Wally repeated. "I'm pretty sure your ring didn't expect you to be."

"The Guardians did," Hal muttered.

"Well, screw the Guardians, then. They're not perfect, either. Krona proved that when he decided to become buddy buddy with fear itself and turn into an ugly yellow smoke cloud."

Despite himself, Hal chuckled with genuine mirth at Wally's description of Parallax.

"I mean, yeah, you're not always gonna be good enough — and yeah, that sucks — especially when it leads to people you love dying." Like Uncle Barry. "But that's life, Hal. What makes us heroes isn't being superhuman all the time — it's accepting our flaws, accepting that sometimes we can't save everyone — and having the fortitude — the will," Wally emphasised, "— to suck it up and always try to do better, even if we'll never be perfect."

He gazed earnestly into Hal's brown eyes.

"And if there's one thing I know you have, Hal, it's will."

"I can't contact Stewart," Hawkgirl announced in the monitor womb. She had returned to the Watchtower to relieve Wonder Woman early in the morning. Aquaman and Wildcat had appeared for their shifts not long after, but Batman, Zatanna, and Doctor Fate had all spent the night on the space station.

"Didn't you give him a secondary comlink when you met him?" asked Zatanna. Batman had banished her from the area where they were keeping Star Sapphire ("Because I don't trust you not to do something stupid," he'd said bluntly), so she was rather brusque.

"Of course I did," Hawkgirl snapped back. "He's not answering."

The League had a policy of handing out secondary comlinks to any hero they met in the field, to make future communication easy in case they ever needed to contact them again. Unlike the primary comlinks assigned to Leaguers, secondary comlinks were set to a different frequency and could not grant access to the Watchtower teleportation system. Also, since they didn't expect non-Leaguers to keep their comlinks on (or even on their person) at all times, secondary comlinks came with a ringing feature that could be remotely activated from the Watchtower.

"He might be offworld," Wildcat pointed out. "Or simply not home."

"Offworld is likely," Hawkgirl agreed. "The satellites can't detect him anywhere in Detroit."

"Then how are we supposed to get him to check the library on Oa for us?" Zatanna demanded in frustration.

"We just have to wait till he comes back," answered Wildcat. He glanced at the tense and unhappy magician. "You'd do well to relax a little, kid. That I-want-to-bulldoze-everyone-in-my-way attitude might land you in some trouble, and/or piss off everyone near you."

Zatanna turned to glare at the seasoned hero. "Do you even know what I'm feeling right now?"

"Sure I do," Wildcat replied evenly. "But you're thinking with your heart, not your head. Zatara is in no danger and he'll be restored just as soon as the League figures out how to reverse the crystallization. But to do that, we need more info that only certain people can provide, so a little patience is required. And it's a lot easier for everyone to do their work if you back off and give them a little breathing room," he said pointedly.

Zatanna exhaled and deflated into a chair.

"I just want my father back," she murmured.

"Completely understandable." Wildcat paused thoughtfully. "You know, I have history with your father too."

Zatanna looked up in surprise. "You?"

"During my boxing days, this shady sorcerer came up to me, asked me to throw the next match. I dunno, maybe he had money on the other guy, or something — but I told him no."

"So politely?" Hawkgirl asked in amusement. She was also listening with interest.

Wildcat chuckled. "I also told him he could stick it where the sun don't shine."

"I don't suppose he took kindly to that," Zatanna remarked.

"Nope. He cursed me to turn into a cat. Luckily, Zatara happened to be around and he was able to alter the curse before I completely lost my humanity."

"Is that why you have nine lives?" questioned Hawkgirl.

"Yeah," Wildcat confirmed. "Zatara couldn't remove the curse completely, so instead of ending up as a cat, I basically got conditional immortality. Anyone who wants me dead has to kill me nine times over — and they gotta do it quick, or my lives replenish."

"Why are you telling me this?" Zatanna wanted to know.

"So you know that you're not the only one who has an interest in getting Zatara out of that crystal as fast as possible. I owe him for what he did for me, and so does Batman — and Fate's been his friend for decades. You have to stop trying to take all the responsibility for your father on yourself, kiddo. There are other people who care for him too, and they're working to free him — learn to trust them to handle it."

Aquaman frowned as he observed Star Sapphire through the two-way glass of her holding cell.

"I don't like this," the King of Atlantis declared. "She's being far too cooperative."

"How so?" Doctor Fate questioned.

"She isn't trying to escape."

"Maybe she knows she can't," the wizard suggested. "We've had her in meta-cuffs since we captured her."

"And yet it has done nothing to neutralise her energy aura," Aquaman pointed out.

"Maintaining an aura requires much less effort than launching offensive attacks."

"Meta-cuffs are supposed to be absolute," Aquaman disagreed. "However little effort it takes to generate her aura, if it derives from a meta-ability, she should not be able to do it."

Fate cast his gaze towards Star Sapphire, thoughtful. "And if she isn't a meta, then the cuffs would not prevent her from escaping."

"Precisely." Aquaman scowled. "There is something amiss here, Fate."

As if on cue, something deep in the bowels of the Watchtower rumbled, causing the room to shake. Aquaman caught sight of the smirk on Star Sapphire's face just before she broke her cuffs with a wave of violet energy and rushed at the glass wall separating her from the Leaguers.

Batman had been in the lab most of the night, but he appeared in the monitor womb almost immediately after the Watchtower shook.

"Status report," he demanded of Hawkgirl.

"Something hit the power cells in Deck G," the Thanagarian replied. "Wildcat and Zatanna took off to check it out — they should be reaching any minute now."

Shocked cursing suddenly spit from the comm.

"When did Star Sapphire escape?!" Zatanna demanded angrily.

"What!" Hawkgirl exclaimed.

"Pull up the feed from the containment unit," Batman commanded.

Hawkgirl did so quickly. The cameras installed in that part of the Watchtower showed Star Sapphire lashing out against the wall of her cell. The villainess wasn't in cuffs any longer, but she was most assuredly still trapped in her holding cell, while Aquaman and Doctor Fate stood in battle stances ready to counter in the unlikely event that she managed to escape containment.

"Zatanna, Star Sapphire is still in her cell," Batman relayed.

"No she's not! She's right here!"

At a glance from Batman, Hawkgirl pulled up the feed from Deck G.

Lo and behold, there was Star Sapphire, trading blows with Zatanna and Wildcat.

Stunned, Hawkgirl's gaze shifted back and forth between the two video feeds, both of which were live, both of which were clearly showing Star Sapphire in totally different locations.

"What the — there's two of them?!"

Batman's eyes were slits in his cowl, but before he could say anything, the Star Sapphire on Deck G managed to blast something rather major in the wiring, and the Watchtower went dark.

A/N: So, I really REALLY wanna hear from you on this chapter. Even if you don't review for any other chapter, I would really like to get some feedback on this one, particularly Hal and Wally's conversation and the Star Sapphire twist. Pretty please? Next update will be in mid-February, anyway, so y'all have plenty of time to write out your thoughts.

Thanks!