CHAPTER 2 of 7
High above the Earth, Watch Tower II orbited silently. It had been christened only a week earlier. Amazing, really, what Wayne Enterprises could accomplish in a short timeframe. It was arranged slightly differently and it was a bit larger than the original Watch Tower, but the new station was a very welcome change from the dankness of the Batcave.
In the control center, John Stewart scanned monitors and checked readouts as per his duty. He ticked off the completed activities on the checklist. Several hours remained on his watch, yet he was already considering volunteering to take Diana's shift as well. Flash had been more than willing to give up his watch duty, but he wasn't so sure Diana would be as agreeable. The princess, he knew, took her obligations as seriously as he did.
But he wanted -- no needed -- to remain at the monitor station. It was his best chance of locating her.
At first, he didn't want to find her, to know where she was. The pain was too deep and raw to even think clearly. That was the time when he remained most occupied. He pulled nearly constant monitor duty while his hand healed and he waited for his replacement Power Ring from Oa. He followed that up by handling as many prison breaks, bank robberies, natural disasters, power plant explosions, and playground fights as he could find.
As days fell into weeks, he one day allowed himself to step back from the anger of betrayal and impartially consider her actions.
Long ago, Hawkgirl asked him if, as a military man, he could understand her situation. Slowly, reluctantly, he came to see her side of it. He would have done the exact same thing in her position. And to his utter shock, Green Lantern concluded that Hawkgirl ultimately redeemed herself to the people of Earth. When she found out the true nature of the Thanagarian invasion, she turned her back on her own people to save the Earth and its inhabitants.
But all the general public saw was a swarm of aliens taking over the planet and a supposed hero turning against them. Because they didn't know the Thanagarian's actual goal of using the planet as a link in their hyperspace bypass -- an action that would cause the implosion of the world -- the populace still clung to a unified hatred for Hawkgirl. Even people within the League, both new and old members, held her in low regard.
As he would feel if any of his teammates were branded an outcast, Lantern was concerned for her well-being. But the vicious condemnation of her and open calls for her death in the press and in private conversation tore at his gut in a way entirely unrelated to their work.
Perhaps she had lied to him that last day and he was still being a fool. It was possible she just used him as a plaything to pass the time, because the bit about her being "promised" to Hro Talak still ate at him.
Maybe Flash's eternal optimism was rubbing off on him because John desperately wanted to believe that Shayera had been caught in some sort of arranged marriage. She said she loved him; that she'd never lied about that. John clung to that thought as he bobbed in a sea of doubt, the waves of public opinion crashing over him daily, trying to drag him under.
John flicked a few switches and changed the monitor views. He hated to dwell on the negatives, but there were so few positives in the situation. Forcing his mind back to his goal of finding Shayera, he called up a variety of news websites and search engines. He plugged "Hawkgirl" in the search fields and turned back to the monitors as the computers ran their searches. He fiddled with camera controls until he had views of the horizon near every major city.
Moments later, he had over three hundred new entries to read from various newspapers, TV stations, newsgroups and private websites.
Sighing, John settled back in his chair to start the fruitless daily ritual of searching for clues to her whereabouts. He sent the energy from his ring into the kitchen to snag a cup of coffee. A ceramic mug of hot liquid floated into his grasp as he scanned through the first of many depressing and irritating documents, taking notes whenever he thought something would help his investigation.
An editorial in the New York Times called the Justice League a group of broken super heroes trying to rebuild what they once had.
It was true. The League was rebuilding. It had been difficult, especially the decision to publicly distance themselves from Hawkgirl. Officially cutting her loose did change opinions back to their favor, polishing their appearance in the eyes of the public. John, however, felt their sterling image tarnished that day.
An article in the Daily Planet listed each of the new heroes who served with the team, chronicling their known histories and what each had accomplished to date with the League. John read the article with interest, acknowledging the truth of the phrase "revolving door of super heroes."
As he reached the end of the article, the pencil in his fingers snapped in half.
The reporter, whom he'd be sure to have Clark -- or better, Superman -- speak with, concluded by restating the reason why the League needed to try out so many new people. They were searching for a replacement for Hawkgirl.
"No," he growled under his breath, "don't use that word." He threw the pencil fragments against the notepad. "Never use that word!"
Only twenty minutes into his daily reading and already his blood pressure was rising. Deliberately, he slid his coffee mug across the desktop, out of his reach. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. It would only get worse, he knew.
Continuing on, he eventually finished all the official publications and turned to the more difficult items to read. Newsgroups, blogs and "Down with Hawkgirl" vigilante sites were the nastiest. He wouldn't read them at all, except the quasi-bounty hunters seemed to have the best of what little information there was out there on Hawkgirl's whereabouts.
Not far into reading his stomach sank at the title of a new thread. "Caught Her!" it exclaimed. "See My Pics!"
John clicked the link, opening the thread. The poster, whose ID he recognized from days past as a frequent guest of the board, claimed to have caught Hawkgirl and had great pictures to prove it. An additional link was provided.
His palms sweating, John scrolled down the screen and caught sight of a few replies. Responses like "Way cool, man!" and "ROTFLMAO!!!!!!" and "You sure got her, dude!" and "Post more!" knotted John's muscles as he prepared to click on the photo link.
An image appeared.
John's anger flared.
Barely refraining from punching through the monitor, John instead cleared the desktop with a wide sweep of his arm. Pens clattered, papers fluttered and his full coffee mug shattered against the metal floor. He slammed his fists against the tabletop with a loud, furious growl, uncaring of the mess he made.
"John?" Diana asked from behind him.
He clenched his fists tighter. "Shit," he breathed. He didn't need people seeing an explosion like that. What was she doing arriving early anyway?
"What's the matter?" she pressed, coming closer to him. "Oh."
John's head hung, but he knew Diana had seen the picture on the screen.
It was obviously a fake. Hawkgirl's head on another woman's body. The shadowing and proportions were clearly mismatched and the wings were the wrong color. Besides, John had seen her. All of her. And the woman's body in the picture had none of the scars Shayera carried.
The altered photo, nonetheless, was revolting. The naked woman was tied to a bed, clearly in a struggle to get free. In the background, an exposed man stood ready. His face was obscured, but his intentions and eagerness were obvious.
Diana closed the photo window with a harsh punch to the keyboard. John was actually surprised that Wonder Woman also refrained from destroying the screen, given her opinions on female oppression.
"It wasn't real," she said. Though he couldn't be certain if she was trying to convince herself or him.
He glanced up and saw her staring down at him, an odd mix of empathy and disgust on her face. If there was one thing he despised, it was being caught red-handed searching for Shayera. Ever since she left, he'd put on the brave face and never once mentioned her to any of his teammates. As far as they were concerned, it was over and he'd moved on.
"Sorry," he said, deciding it best to change the subject. "I'll clean that up." He shoved the chair back and knelt to the floor, intent on erasing the evidence of his outburst.
Diana crouched down next to him and put a hand on his forearm. "I'll take care of it," she told him.
"No," he said, not looking at her.
They collected papers in silence.
"Hey," he tried to sound jovial as he tapped the papers into a neat stack, "how about you take the night off and I take your shift?"
"You're going to bed," Diana told him flatly.
A shudder ran through him. He hadn't spent a full night in a bed since she'd left. It just seemed too empty and cold without her next to him, without the down of her wings warming them both. Any sleep he did manage to grab was now done sitting up, generally when he dozed off in a chair in front of a computer.
"Nah," he countered as he picked up shattered bits of ceramic, "not tired."
"John," Diana warned. Her look was stern, yet annoyingly sympathetic.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. He hated the sorrowful looks his comrades directed at him. He hated the guilty expressions they wore when an infrequent reference was made to Hawkgirl. But above all else, he hated that she'd left, leaving him to pick up the pieces.
As John dumped the ruined mug particles in a trash bin, he felt a female hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed.
"I'm worried about you, John," Diana said. "We're all worried about you."
Lantern worked on fixing a scowl to his face. The down-turned angles of his new goatee added to the illusion of anger rather than defeat. He was surprised at how much he came to rely on the extra facial hair in hiding his true feelings.
Slowly, he stood, towering over the Amazon still kneeling on the floor.
"What?" he asked, sharper than necessary. "Am I not pulling my weight around here?"
Wonder Woman raised to her full height and squared off with John at eye level, well into his personal space. "On the contrary," she said. "You've been pulling your weight and that of just about everybody else for months now. If you don't take a break and get some sleep, you're going to collapse."
John's glowing green eyes sparked, but Diana didn't back down. Instead, her expression softened.
"Pushing yourself beyond your limits for this long isn't doing any of us any good," she told him, her hand once again on his shoulder. "Get some rest."
John opened his mouth to protest.
"Go," she said sternly, a hint of mirth coming into her features, "or I'll take you out of commission myself."
A smile worked at the corner of his mouth, though he fought against it. "Fine," he said, his shoulders sagging. "I'll go."
Diana smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Good." She turned and sat in the only chair, effectively kicking him out of the monitor area. "Oh, and if I catch you in the gym, you'd better hope your ring is fully charged."
John had to smile at that. It was good to know there was at least one woman still around ready to beat the stuffing out of him for not doing as she ordered.
With an exaggerated salute, he said firmly, "Yes, ma'am!"
She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Good night, John."
"I'm already gone," he assured her as he turned and walked away from the monitors that provided no information on his missing lover.
To Be Continued...
High above the Earth, Watch Tower II orbited silently. It had been christened only a week earlier. Amazing, really, what Wayne Enterprises could accomplish in a short timeframe. It was arranged slightly differently and it was a bit larger than the original Watch Tower, but the new station was a very welcome change from the dankness of the Batcave.
In the control center, John Stewart scanned monitors and checked readouts as per his duty. He ticked off the completed activities on the checklist. Several hours remained on his watch, yet he was already considering volunteering to take Diana's shift as well. Flash had been more than willing to give up his watch duty, but he wasn't so sure Diana would be as agreeable. The princess, he knew, took her obligations as seriously as he did.
But he wanted -- no needed -- to remain at the monitor station. It was his best chance of locating her.
At first, he didn't want to find her, to know where she was. The pain was too deep and raw to even think clearly. That was the time when he remained most occupied. He pulled nearly constant monitor duty while his hand healed and he waited for his replacement Power Ring from Oa. He followed that up by handling as many prison breaks, bank robberies, natural disasters, power plant explosions, and playground fights as he could find.
As days fell into weeks, he one day allowed himself to step back from the anger of betrayal and impartially consider her actions.
Long ago, Hawkgirl asked him if, as a military man, he could understand her situation. Slowly, reluctantly, he came to see her side of it. He would have done the exact same thing in her position. And to his utter shock, Green Lantern concluded that Hawkgirl ultimately redeemed herself to the people of Earth. When she found out the true nature of the Thanagarian invasion, she turned her back on her own people to save the Earth and its inhabitants.
But all the general public saw was a swarm of aliens taking over the planet and a supposed hero turning against them. Because they didn't know the Thanagarian's actual goal of using the planet as a link in their hyperspace bypass -- an action that would cause the implosion of the world -- the populace still clung to a unified hatred for Hawkgirl. Even people within the League, both new and old members, held her in low regard.
As he would feel if any of his teammates were branded an outcast, Lantern was concerned for her well-being. But the vicious condemnation of her and open calls for her death in the press and in private conversation tore at his gut in a way entirely unrelated to their work.
Perhaps she had lied to him that last day and he was still being a fool. It was possible she just used him as a plaything to pass the time, because the bit about her being "promised" to Hro Talak still ate at him.
Maybe Flash's eternal optimism was rubbing off on him because John desperately wanted to believe that Shayera had been caught in some sort of arranged marriage. She said she loved him; that she'd never lied about that. John clung to that thought as he bobbed in a sea of doubt, the waves of public opinion crashing over him daily, trying to drag him under.
John flicked a few switches and changed the monitor views. He hated to dwell on the negatives, but there were so few positives in the situation. Forcing his mind back to his goal of finding Shayera, he called up a variety of news websites and search engines. He plugged "Hawkgirl" in the search fields and turned back to the monitors as the computers ran their searches. He fiddled with camera controls until he had views of the horizon near every major city.
Moments later, he had over three hundred new entries to read from various newspapers, TV stations, newsgroups and private websites.
Sighing, John settled back in his chair to start the fruitless daily ritual of searching for clues to her whereabouts. He sent the energy from his ring into the kitchen to snag a cup of coffee. A ceramic mug of hot liquid floated into his grasp as he scanned through the first of many depressing and irritating documents, taking notes whenever he thought something would help his investigation.
An editorial in the New York Times called the Justice League a group of broken super heroes trying to rebuild what they once had.
It was true. The League was rebuilding. It had been difficult, especially the decision to publicly distance themselves from Hawkgirl. Officially cutting her loose did change opinions back to their favor, polishing their appearance in the eyes of the public. John, however, felt their sterling image tarnished that day.
An article in the Daily Planet listed each of the new heroes who served with the team, chronicling their known histories and what each had accomplished to date with the League. John read the article with interest, acknowledging the truth of the phrase "revolving door of super heroes."
As he reached the end of the article, the pencil in his fingers snapped in half.
The reporter, whom he'd be sure to have Clark -- or better, Superman -- speak with, concluded by restating the reason why the League needed to try out so many new people. They were searching for a replacement for Hawkgirl.
"No," he growled under his breath, "don't use that word." He threw the pencil fragments against the notepad. "Never use that word!"
Only twenty minutes into his daily reading and already his blood pressure was rising. Deliberately, he slid his coffee mug across the desktop, out of his reach. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. It would only get worse, he knew.
Continuing on, he eventually finished all the official publications and turned to the more difficult items to read. Newsgroups, blogs and "Down with Hawkgirl" vigilante sites were the nastiest. He wouldn't read them at all, except the quasi-bounty hunters seemed to have the best of what little information there was out there on Hawkgirl's whereabouts.
Not far into reading his stomach sank at the title of a new thread. "Caught Her!" it exclaimed. "See My Pics!"
John clicked the link, opening the thread. The poster, whose ID he recognized from days past as a frequent guest of the board, claimed to have caught Hawkgirl and had great pictures to prove it. An additional link was provided.
His palms sweating, John scrolled down the screen and caught sight of a few replies. Responses like "Way cool, man!" and "ROTFLMAO!!!!!!" and "You sure got her, dude!" and "Post more!" knotted John's muscles as he prepared to click on the photo link.
An image appeared.
John's anger flared.
Barely refraining from punching through the monitor, John instead cleared the desktop with a wide sweep of his arm. Pens clattered, papers fluttered and his full coffee mug shattered against the metal floor. He slammed his fists against the tabletop with a loud, furious growl, uncaring of the mess he made.
"John?" Diana asked from behind him.
He clenched his fists tighter. "Shit," he breathed. He didn't need people seeing an explosion like that. What was she doing arriving early anyway?
"What's the matter?" she pressed, coming closer to him. "Oh."
John's head hung, but he knew Diana had seen the picture on the screen.
It was obviously a fake. Hawkgirl's head on another woman's body. The shadowing and proportions were clearly mismatched and the wings were the wrong color. Besides, John had seen her. All of her. And the woman's body in the picture had none of the scars Shayera carried.
The altered photo, nonetheless, was revolting. The naked woman was tied to a bed, clearly in a struggle to get free. In the background, an exposed man stood ready. His face was obscured, but his intentions and eagerness were obvious.
Diana closed the photo window with a harsh punch to the keyboard. John was actually surprised that Wonder Woman also refrained from destroying the screen, given her opinions on female oppression.
"It wasn't real," she said. Though he couldn't be certain if she was trying to convince herself or him.
He glanced up and saw her staring down at him, an odd mix of empathy and disgust on her face. If there was one thing he despised, it was being caught red-handed searching for Shayera. Ever since she left, he'd put on the brave face and never once mentioned her to any of his teammates. As far as they were concerned, it was over and he'd moved on.
"Sorry," he said, deciding it best to change the subject. "I'll clean that up." He shoved the chair back and knelt to the floor, intent on erasing the evidence of his outburst.
Diana crouched down next to him and put a hand on his forearm. "I'll take care of it," she told him.
"No," he said, not looking at her.
They collected papers in silence.
"Hey," he tried to sound jovial as he tapped the papers into a neat stack, "how about you take the night off and I take your shift?"
"You're going to bed," Diana told him flatly.
A shudder ran through him. He hadn't spent a full night in a bed since she'd left. It just seemed too empty and cold without her next to him, without the down of her wings warming them both. Any sleep he did manage to grab was now done sitting up, generally when he dozed off in a chair in front of a computer.
"Nah," he countered as he picked up shattered bits of ceramic, "not tired."
"John," Diana warned. Her look was stern, yet annoyingly sympathetic.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. He hated the sorrowful looks his comrades directed at him. He hated the guilty expressions they wore when an infrequent reference was made to Hawkgirl. But above all else, he hated that she'd left, leaving him to pick up the pieces.
As John dumped the ruined mug particles in a trash bin, he felt a female hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed.
"I'm worried about you, John," Diana said. "We're all worried about you."
Lantern worked on fixing a scowl to his face. The down-turned angles of his new goatee added to the illusion of anger rather than defeat. He was surprised at how much he came to rely on the extra facial hair in hiding his true feelings.
Slowly, he stood, towering over the Amazon still kneeling on the floor.
"What?" he asked, sharper than necessary. "Am I not pulling my weight around here?"
Wonder Woman raised to her full height and squared off with John at eye level, well into his personal space. "On the contrary," she said. "You've been pulling your weight and that of just about everybody else for months now. If you don't take a break and get some sleep, you're going to collapse."
John's glowing green eyes sparked, but Diana didn't back down. Instead, her expression softened.
"Pushing yourself beyond your limits for this long isn't doing any of us any good," she told him, her hand once again on his shoulder. "Get some rest."
John opened his mouth to protest.
"Go," she said sternly, a hint of mirth coming into her features, "or I'll take you out of commission myself."
A smile worked at the corner of his mouth, though he fought against it. "Fine," he said, his shoulders sagging. "I'll go."
Diana smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Good." She turned and sat in the only chair, effectively kicking him out of the monitor area. "Oh, and if I catch you in the gym, you'd better hope your ring is fully charged."
John had to smile at that. It was good to know there was at least one woman still around ready to beat the stuffing out of him for not doing as she ordered.
With an exaggerated salute, he said firmly, "Yes, ma'am!"
She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Good night, John."
"I'm already gone," he assured her as he turned and walked away from the monitors that provided no information on his missing lover.
To Be Continued...