CHAPTER 6 of 7

When the door to the medical bay slid open, Shayera didn't open her eyes. Without a clock, she assumed another hour had passed while she slept and that J'onn was making his hourly trip to check on her status and to be sure the energy field was still in place around her bed. He'd been in six times already that she could remember. It was entirely possible he'd been through more often, but she had dropped into fitful sleep a number of times.

She knew the Martian couldn't read her thoughts, but she still concentrated on clearing her mind and projecting a "leave me alone" attitude. That, coupled with her closed eyes, had been sufficient to keep J'onn silent on his previous visits.

Shayera sensed the figure approaching her. J'onn was efficient, so it would only take a couple minutes for him to run through his checklist and once again abandon her.

The mattress dipped with the weight of another person. The Martian never sat on the bed next to her. Shayera's eyes snapped open and her heart skipped a beat when she saw her visitor.

"John," she whispered, as though someone would hear and ask him to leave.

He was surrounded with a familiar green glow. It explained how he'd managed to slip through the force field instead of turning it off.

"Hey," he said, taking her hand in his, "how you feeling?"

Her fingers curled around his and she grasped him with as much strength as she could muster. She'd missed his touch, his warmth more than she wanted to admit.

"Like a squashed cricket," she answered.

Cautiously, John reached out and touched the singed feathers on her right wing, making sure to avoid the healing wound at the top.

"A slightly roasted squashed cricket," she clarified, trying to get him to smile.

But he didn't smile. His serious expression became tighter when his hand slid from her wing up to her face. He cupped her cheek and she nuzzled into his palm.

"You will eat?" he questioned.

She met his eyes and she couldn't miss the deep concern in them. "Sure," she promised him, her gaze unwavering.

In truth, she'd spent several hours pondering her fate. With the force field around her bed she was unable to do anything but rest. To waste her strength rebelling against dinner didn't make much sense. The sooner she recovered, the sooner she could leave. They would be free of her, and she could return to her solitary existence until the next battle raged. Hopefully, the next villain would have more success at destroying her.

John's eyebrows sank and he watched her skeptically. "Why are you doing this?"

She frowned back at him. "Doing what? I said I'd eat, what more do you want?"

"I want you alive," he stated.

"What the hell for?" she snapped, shaking off his hands.

John recoiled as though he'd been slapped. It was a long moment before he squared his shoulders and looked down at her as though she was one of his soldiers. "You do not need to die to restore your honor."

She scowled at him. "What makes you so certain this has anything to do with honor?"

He tilted his head, but his frown remained. "You sacrificed yourself to save Flash and the construction workers. You didn't have to do it. That sounds like an honorable and heroic move to me."

With a huff, she broke her gaze from his. "Well, you've got it all figured out, don't you? Yep, I saved a few people today; I'm a regular paragon of virtue now. Everything is all better. Thanks for clearing that up." She turned her head away from him. "I need to get some sleep now, if you don't mind."

Lantern's teeth ground together. He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Instead of the expected anger, he saw a profound sadness reflected in her eyes. She blinked and her temper iced over her stare.

John's expression shifted into disbelief and his throat went dry as he spoke. "You really are going to kill yourself, aren't you?"

Shayera lowered his hand from her chin with a sigh. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled over, her back to him. "I have nothing left, John." Her battered wings tightened against her body. "There is no point in going on except to hope that I can go down fighting. To try to save a few people -- most of whom are too angry at or scared of my kind to know I'm trying to help." Her head lowered and her knees raised as she tried to curl into a ball. "One of the men I saved, he was trying just as hard to get away from me as he was from the robot. He actually begged me not to hurt him."

John winced. There were a few people he'd rescued who were angry with him for various reasons, but none ever feared him. He couldn't imagine how upsetting it would be for him to have someone plead for his mercy.

"What good is that?" she continued, shrinking further into herself. "I can never go back to Thanagar and I'm stuck on a planet where I'm hated and feared. I have no place to go where people don't want me dead. Not that I deserve anything different, because I don't. I accept that. But I can't live like this indefinitely," she said, her voice weaker than he'd ever heard it. "By my hand or someone else's...there has to be an end."

XXXXX

John made it as far as the lounge before he completely lost control. With a roar, he pounded his fists against the heavy metal table, bending it in half. He flung chairs at the walls and cleared shelves with sweeping gestures, all the while bellowing with anger.

When nothing remained to be demolished, he slammed his fist repeatedly against a bulkhead as hard as he could, denting the thick alloy. His frustrated cries grew in intensity until he was howling.

"GL! Stop it, man!" Flash suddenly grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him around. "You're gonna bust through the wall."

Lantern stared at Flash, drilling him with his eerily green eyes.

Flash visibly stiffened, preparing for an assault. But instead Lantern's shoulders sagged and John fell against the wall at his back, sinking to the floor, his face in his hands.

A cautious hand was placed on his shoulder. "You talked with Hawkgirl, didn't you?"

John's fingers tightened into fists at the mention of her name. He couldn't let her go that easily. But he didn't know what to say to change her mind. It didn't take a psychologist to recognize the depression Shayera suffered from.

The thing was, he couldn't blame her in the slightest for feeling as she did. The reality of the situation was exactly as she described. He'd read the articles, seen the websites, heard the whispers first hand. And she'd been on the receiving end of all that loathing for six months.

But her telling him flat-out about her intention to die made him physically ill. He concentrated on keeping his breathing slow, to fight the nausea and the desire to hyperventilate.

His mind swirled, causing a vortex in his soul. He could feel himself being pulled under. He tried to be her lifeguard, but she took him beneath the water's surface with her. She was drowning him as effectively as she was drowning herself. Yet, he was the one that wouldn't let go.

The League recognized months ago they were sinking as long as they were linked to her. So they severed the ties and resurfaced unscathed, for the most part.

Why couldn't he do the same?

He had to do something. His sanity depended on it.

Drop the anchor around his neck and rush back to the surface. It was the logical choice, the sensible choice. A choice Shayera would probably encourage him to make.

John squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

"You okay now, GL?" Flash asked him. For once, the hyperactive speedster had remained so still John actually forgot he was there.

"Yes. I believe I will be," John said, standing up. He headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Flash called after him.

Green Lantern didn't answer.

To Be Continued...