Remember the first chapter? Remember how Hawk was charging Apokolips? Yes, that was part of this story. But now we're coming back to that. Because that was where our story really began. Not at a fire that nearly claimed the life of a certain 1 year old. No. For this story, we're going back to the true beginning. When Hawk was struck, and everything changed. This is the part I reworked, so if my writing style changed… that's why. I tried to keep it somewhat similiar, so it wouldn't be too jarring… but I can't really go completely back. So.

Don's eyes were vibrant as he reached out, offering Hank taffy with a smile. Hank reached out, and his hand closed and he couldn't stop looking at Don's eyes. They almost seemed… pale.

"Hank, you should really read this. I know you don't get it, but Alice in Wonderland is a masterpiece, it's not just for kids."

"Anything that rediculous tapps out at the 6 year old range, Don."

"No it doesn't!" He seemed… quiet? Threadbare, was that right? "Don, is something wrong?"

"You may not believe this, but there are lots of adults who love this. Sometimes people read it in college."

"I can't see why."

"Because… honestly, not everything has to be serious or gruesome. Alice keeps this niavette throught the whole story…"

Hank struggled to hear. And, his eyes… they'd been blue before, right? Bright blue not…

"Don, didn't I ask if something was wrong?"

"She is not rediculous! She's a model of childlike innocence-"

"I didn't call her rediculous!" Hank flew to his feet and glared. Don's gaze didn't move.

"-she stays truthfull and optimistic…"

"Don, talk to me!"

"You can't possibily believe that."

Hank growled in frusteration and glanced down at himself. Still in the chair, even though he was standing up. A ghost image a phantom…

He grabbed Don's shoulder and moved through him uselessly. "What?"

Everything was fading. The room, Don, even the sound of voices - was that his own voice, coming from the ghost in the chair?

Hadn't this already happened?

Wasn't something wrong?

Wasn't… Don… who was this ghost? Where was he? Shouldn't he know? Shouldn't he… should should… something…

He was nothing and nowhere. Everything was too pale to see or touch or hear and then there wasn't even the paleness. But he was solid. But he was solid no where and everywhere at once, because if he was the only something in the middle of nowhere then there was no anywhere that wasn't there to be somewhere. And if his was the only anywhere, then he must be everywhere.

He didn't like it there. But there was no where to go.

And no one to go to.