Broken

Chapter 2 - Shockwave

Disclaimer: Surprise surprise, I still don't own Justice League.

Author's Note: Yeah, it's been awhile since my last update. XD; Sorry about that. Been busy with moving troubles. But here's the next chapter for you!

No worries, I'll get this done sooner or later! I'm determined to get this finished, no matter how long it takes! Oh, yes, and thanks for all the great reviews! I'm surprised this has gone over so well. Hope you'll continue to read and enjoy!

~*~*

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes had turned into hours. John glanced at the clock. Two hours and forty-three minutes had already gone by. Flash had gotten a stool for him to sit more comfortably. He was thankful for that -- he still refused to release Hawkgirl's hand. Flash himself had left the room not so long ago when the others had finally returned from their mission to help explain what exactly had happened.

John didn't see why he needed to. It was simple: he'd screwed up. If he'd only had better concentration, if he'd only -

"Lantern?" He glanced upwards, spotting Diana standing a few feet from the end of the bed. He hadn't even heard her come in. There was worry in her eyes as she stepped towards him. "How has she been doing?"

"A little better." Turning away, he resumed watching Hawkgirl for any movement. "But she hasn't regained consciousness yet." He still didn't know what he'd say when she did.

Diana nodded. "I see." She turned to pull over a chair for herself, setting it beside John. The silence John was growing familiar to threatened to take over again after she'd sat down, but scurried away as she spoke again. "How have you been doing?"

"Fine." he mumbled.

It must not have been very convincing, judging by the way she was looking at him. After thinking for a moment, she tentatively began, "John...you know it's not your fault, don't you?" Ah, silence. The universal answer to the questions no one wants to hear. Too bad for John that Diana wouldn't accept it so easily. "J'onn and Flash told us what happened. You had to do it."

He turned away from her, staring absently at the steadily swaying lines of the heart monitor. It was almost as though he could feel her blue-eyes boring holes in his head. "You didn't have a choice. If you hadn't done it, Sinestro would have killed her!" Her voice had risen, whether or not she realized it. A deep breath later, her tone was soft again. "She'll understand. She'll have to"

John winced slightly. Even if Diana had been trying to help him, he could feel the underlying conviction in her voice. If he'd just taken the shot a with more caution, even taken a split-second to make sure his aim was right, Hawkgirl would have been fine right now. But it was a split-second they hadn't had. "Just drop it, alright?"

The former princess sat for a moment, her mouth hanging open as though to protest. She shut it, turning to watch Hawkgirl's unconscious figure. "...You know...despite the fact that she is a sister...I never really took the time to become close to her." She wrapped her arms around herself, sighing. "We were just so...different. Different in many, many ways." As Diana nodded to herself, John began to wonder if she was talking to him, or just thinking aloud. "That will change. When she awakens, I'll make sure of it."

Watching the slumbering Thangarian for a moment longer, she bowed her head and stood up, walking out of the room without another word. John glanced at her retreating form, wondering how Hawkgirl would react to the change in the princess. Would she be happy? Annoyed? Thankful?

Probably, whether or not she'd admit it at first. When she did wake up, Hawkgirl was going to need all the support she could get.

~*~*~

Time continued to slip away. A few other members of the league had come in to try and coax John into getting some rest, but the Lantern refused to budge. He wasn't sure when or how, but he'd ended up nodding off. Blood stained feathers plagued his dreams, fluttering wildly in the wind as laughter echoed from a source unseen. Sometimes he thought it was Hawkgirl, sometimes it sounded more like Sinestro. Most often it sounded like his own voice. A cry of pain ended the dream with a jolt that made John jump. He thought for a moment that it had only been a part of the nightmare, until he saw Hawkgirl writhing on the bed. Panic swarmed his mind as she cried out again, clutching his hand so tight that it hurt.

John whirled as he heard the door slide open. Never before had he been so thankful to see J'onn standing there. Clearly by the way he moved to a certain cabinet, the Martian knew what was happening and exactly what to do. A moment later he came to them with a small needle in hand, something which sent an involuntary chill down his spine. He was used to needles in general, but that didn't mean he had to like them. Never had, never would.

Fortunately, the needle's job was done a moment later, and Hawkgirl settled down once again. J'onn locked eyes with him. "She'll be fine. I apologize -- I would've administered the painkiller sooner, but I hadn't realized the first dose would've worn off so soon." Thanagarian bodies were proving to be quite resilient. Anyone else (aside from Superman) and the medication would have lasted hours longer than it had.

"Don't worry about it. As long as she's alright now, that's what counts." Even if she wasn't really all right. She never would be.

J'onn nodded politely to him. "Yes, it is." He turned to dispose of the needle, before quietly heading to the door again.

"Wait." He turned to face John. "I've got a question for you." Involuntarily, the Lantern clutched at Hawkgirl's limp hand. "Are you sure there wasn't anything that could've been done to help her?"

"Are you implying that I may not have done all I could, Lantern?" The Manhunter's expression remained as calm as ever. "We've both done everything within our power. Whatever happens now relies on hers."

John bit his lip and turned away. When he turned back, J'onn had already gone. "Everything within my power..." He glanced at the figure on the bed, completely still aside from the rising and falling of her chest. Yeah, he'd done everything within his power. That was the whole problem. If the blast had been a little weaker, if there had been just a little more accuracy in his aim, this may've never happened.

None of that would help now though. He'd already damaged her beyond repair, the same way as a blundering man who'd knocked a porcelain angel to the floor. He'd broken her.