Title: Destiny's Way
Author: Elena
Pairings: the usual Vixen/John/Shayera/Carter mish-mash, as usual. So much for resolving the issue…
Warning: Spoilers for TOaFT pt. 2 and SotH.
Disclaimer: I don't own Justice League, nor do I own the Star Wars book Destiny's Way.
Summary: A story of the fulfillment of two different destinies in the same timeline, a girl with wings, and the birth of a hero named 'Warhawk'.
Notes: Mostly inspired by McDuffie's comments on the SotH entry at the Watchtower – those comments opened a whole realm of possibilities for me…
I.
Shayera has never believed in destiny.
Thanagarian religion emphasized the idea of duty and submission paving the way to a good afterlife, but the idea of destiny was peculiarly human, as was reincarnation. Carter's insistence on their shared destiny, his talk of their past lives, was just the word of a man whose brain had been rewired after a bad experience with some alien tech.
Still…
He was kind and brave and honorable and Thanagarian in every sense of the word, and he was all she had ever wanted when she was a girl. And in the end, it wasn't hard to love him; quite the opposite, actually.
Third time's the charm, after all.
II.
Mari thought Carter was nice. A little obsessed, but in a sweet, chocolate-and-flowers sort of way.
"So, how do you feel now that he's made an honest woman out of you?"
She laughs throatily, and says, "Just the same as I felt before, except now people are calling me Mrs. Stewart. How do you feel about your impending fatherhood?"
He grins at her, blue eyes gleaming. "Like there's a physics exam coming up that I haven't studied for." He laughs, then looks at her intently. "Shayera really wanted to come, but with the baby so close…"
"Oh, it's fine. Just make sure to invite me to the christening…"
"I think I can arrange that, Mrs. Stewart."
III.
The egg crunched, and Shayera shouts with glee. "Katar, come here! It's breaking out!" Somewhere in the distance, she can hear the crash of something metallic and the sound of her husband's cursing, but she's not paying close attention to that. She's too busy tearing the shell of her baby's egg apart. The speckled white shell breaks apart under her hand, and the sac inside squirms. Carefully, oh so carefully, she pulls a knife out and slices the sac, cutting it into pieces.
And then the baby is free. Covered in mucus and blood, wings fluttering weakly, she raises her voice to the heavens.
"Oh, Shayera…" Katar had finally gotten to them, and he leans over her shoulder to look at the miracle they have made together. Two arms, two legs, all her fingers and toes, a healthy set of lungs and strong wings…
"She's perfect, isn't she?"
"Yes," she says. "Yes."
IV.
Aya isn't much like her mother. But she's enough like Shayera that John is reasonably sure that he knows where she is. His guess is confirmed when he sees a sword-wielding angel hack at a dummy in the gym. John suppresses a wince when she stabs at a particularly delicate portion of a male's anatomy.
"Aya?"
She snarls and attacks the dummy with renewed fervor, ignoring him completely. Well, fine then, darling. Ignore this.
A whip of green light lashes out and catches her on the leg. Aya hacks down at it, and the magical qualities of the sword dissipate it, but it's done it's job. He has her attention.
"Yes?" And that's archetypical teenager, complete with whine and headtoss.
"Don't give me that, Aya. You could have been killed out there, all because you didn't follow direction and went off to do your own thing! For the love of God – "
"Why do you care? It's not like I'm your daughter!"
John stops short, speechless.
"All you care about it making sure mom is happy – you don't give a damn about me!"
John's eyes narrow. "Is that what this whole rebellion thing is about? You think I don't love you?"
She nods reluctantly.
"That's the biggest pile of crap I've ever heard. Of course I love you, Aya. I'm your stepfather. I adopted you when you were twelve, for God's sake! The reason I'm so strict with you is because I don't want you to get hurt!"
Aya lowers her sword, looking like nothing so much as a little girl in need of a hug. "Oh."
"'Oh', she says," and John gives into instinct and pulls the girl into a rough hug.
V.
Rex is twenty-three when his half-sister visits him. He hasn't seen her since mom's funeral a year before, but that's par for course with Aya. She's there when you really need her, and gone the rest of the time.
"Hello, Rex. How's life treating you?" Aya looks the same as she always does – like a tall, faintly absentminded angel. He notices that her black hair is growing out of her hairstyle messily, and wonders how long it will be before she notices and get it cut into something more presentable.
"All right, I guess. I can't complain." The hackles of his neck rise for no apparent reason, and he feels wary of his sister. Very wary.
"I have a gift for you." Bingo. He loves her to death, but Aya's gifts are always a little dangerous. Rex remembers with a shudder the explosive mace and the grenades and the super-efficient flame-throwers. The US army thinks she's a genius, but that's only because they see the finished product. The prototypes were a much less shiny and much more explosive.
Aya gives him a box, and waits for him to open it, smiling that secretive smile of hers at the same time. "Go on, open it!"
The box is large and light, and he is careful not to shake the box while taking off the tie and pulling the top off. Whatever's inside is covered by a mound of peanuts, and he just knows she did that just to annoy him.
Stupid older sister.
He reaches through the peanuts and feels something smooth and metallic, and he pulls it out. "Oh my god…"
Aya throws her head back and laughs, her blue eyes sparkling with glee. "I'm glad you like it, Rex."
While he gapes at her like a fish, she casually climbs onto his balcony and raises her white wings. "See you around, Warhawk," she says cheerily, and then she's off, her wings propelling her to the air. For the very first time of his life, Rex isn't jealous of his sister's wings.
After all, he has his own wings now.