Young Justice: The Gold Corps: Shattered, Chapter 18: Prom Night

…

I don't own either Young Justice, the Justice League, or the Green Lantern Corps. Maybe someday…

…..

Chapter 18: Prom Night

The night of the prom: Rose was in her room, putting on her dress and makeup. She was wearing her eye patch; at first, she'd thought to go incognito, as it were, with her false eye, but Ragnar had vetoed that. "I'd like you to go as Rose Wilson. Yourself."

"Suppose we're attacked?"

"My ring can teleport your swords to you in an instant."

So she sat in her room at Mt. Justice. Her dress, for the evening, was a long, black, form fitting, sequined affair, sleeveless and backless, and cut low enough in the front so as to display her natural attributes in the best possible way, while remaining well within legal limits, and avoiding the possibility of "wardrobe malfunctions," as they'd come to be called lately. Of course, she knew, as did all of them, that, had Miss Martian been here, she and Ragnar would naturally be the couple going. Rose herself was by no means insulted by this premise; she wished Megan was back, too, and could take this insufferable buffoon off her hands. Those two of them just…belonged together. (But what was that about Miss Martian being discharged, but….not cured? But Rose noticed that nobody had said she hadn't been, either…but if she had, why the need for such ultimate secrecy?)

Besides, Rose had other reasons for wishing she could skip this prom. Her own experience with senior proms—and formal dances-had been…less than enjoyable.

Her first and only senior prom had ended badly. Although mostly home-schooled, her father, Slade Wilson, had felt that his daughter needed the rite of passage that senior prom supplied, so he'd insisted she attend, and, to that effect, had arranged it. She still remembered the looks, the snide, insulting comments, the bland, lying faces of those girls in the cliques, how they muttered about her behind her back, unaware that she could hear them. Or maybe just not caring. Sometimes, people believe one disability carried over into another, wholly different area; Rose was missing an eye, so they may easily have assumed she was partially deaf, too.

Her "date" had seemed mostly interested in talking sports with his buddies than dancing, so she'd found herself hanging around the punchbowl. Which, in time-honored tradition, had proved to be spiked, and she'd gotten plastered off her ass.

The last thing she remembered about the whole train wreck of an evening was her date eagerly clawing at her panties.

Her father had never said in what condition he'd found her, or where, or how, even. Privately, she suspected him as having her bugged…but, of course, she didn't know.

She did know that, for quite a while there, he'd tested her regularly, for signs of pregnancy. And STDs. That alone told her more than she really wanted to know.

And she never saw that guy, her date, again. Ever.

Her father had, in the course of her training, instructed her about sex and sexual techniques, especially for covert operations, and she had taken to such studies with the intelligence and determination she used in every aspect of the giant learning experience her life was. It was the same principle as learning how to handle a rifle, or a sword: it was only of any good to you if you learned how to use it properly. Otherwise, it was just….clumsy. And ineffective.

Someone signaled for entrance. Of course, she knew who it was.

The door opened to reveal Ragnar, in a formal tux, with a white jacket and black pants, carrying a small box. A red tie completed his ensemble. "Wow," she told him, admiringly, "You clean up pretty good."

"I'll take that as a compliment. But whether it was or not…you look very beautiful tonight, Rose."

Rose's jaw almost dropped. This clowninski just paid her a compliment? Oh, but of course. "You need to work on your sarcasm. That was a bit overdone."

He stared at her momentarily. "I wasn't being sarcastic, Rose. Why would you think I would be?"

"You mean you weren't?"

"Rose…you apparently don't know very much about me." He held out the box. "I believe it is customary for me to give you this."

Rose opened the box, to reveal a striking-looking corsage. "A corsage? Boy, you're really going all out."

"'All out'?"

"Means the whole nine yards. Doing everything, in other words. Geez, you haven't picked up much of the nuances about human languages, have you?"

"Evidently not." Pause. "I am unsure if I am to attach this arrangement to you or if you do it yourself."

"I'll do it." She quickly pinned the corsage (which really was quite, er, lovely) to the band that went around her throat. "Well. Shall we go?"

Outside, at the empty place that served as a parking lot. "Ragnar, a limousine! I don't buh-LEEVE it!"

"What's not to believe? Is not all this traditional?" He said, holding the door for her. She got in.

Truth to tell, Rose Wilson had never, in her life, actually ridden in a real limousine before. Leather upholstery, contoured seats….it was a little overwhelming, even for her."Uh, Ragnar? You're not…I mean, you're not like, trying to actually court me, are you?"

He clutched his stomach, an expression of pain on his face. "Please. I just ate."

She laughed. Now that was more like it!

The prom itself was rather quieter than she remembered. The music was muted, although produced by a band. The banners over the ballroom—which was held in the school's gymnasium-held the standard "Welcome Graduates!" notifications, and the people moved in and out of groups. The chaperones were clearly visible, circulating, always on the lookout for mischievous behavior.

Of which there was surprisingly little. Rose was surprised.

The two of them secured a table by themselves near the doorway. "So now what?" they both chorused, then Rose began laughing while Ragnar smiled. "I don't guess either one of us has really thought this far ahead, have we?"

"Well, I certainly haven't. This is the first such party I've gone to…in fact, the first party I've gone to at all. I'm unsure what one does at these affairs."

"Ehh, mostly dance, drink, mingle. This one's kinda restrained. Some guys use it as an excuse to hit on girls—"out of the corner of her eye, she saw him start, and realized his misunderstanding—"not physically, Rag—I mean, Ray." She barely remembered in time to use his cover name of Ragin Ramanujin, Indian exchange student, "but, you know, get to know them up close and personal, like. Perhaps a bit more personal than they like. But that's what the word 'no' was invented for. As well as the words 'get lost,' 'scram,' 'make tracks.' " Sometimes they even work.

I wish they'd worked for me, back then.

I don't even know if I used them.

The music began, the band playing a slow number. Ragnar stood up and turned to her. "In that case, may I have this dance?"

She gaped at him. "You? Dance? Since when do you know how to dance?"

"Since I watched some Youtube videos. Now, if you would do me the honor?"

She got to her feet, and moved with him to the gymnasium floor. "Why?" She whispered. "You don't even like me!" He didn't respond, but just took her in his arms, and began moving in what turned out to be a surprisingly graceful manner. And he'd learned this from Youtube?

Play along, Rose. So she laid her head on his shoulder, and let him lead, the movements coming automatically to her. Social dancing was another of the many fields she'd been trained to be proficient in. As she lay there, she utilized her ability to block out ambient sounds and concentrate on hushed conversation….

"…what's with the one-eyed chick?"

"Ray's grown a lot this last year…don't understand why he doesn't try out for the team…"

"Wasn't he the one got the Morse girl preggers?"

"Dunno, but if so, he sure got some fine (crowd noise)"

"…who's the white haired girl?"

"Wish he were holding me that way…

"…bet I could take him away from her…" At this last, Rose felt her hands clenching, as though she was holding her swords. Like to see you try, bitch!

Gradually, Rose became aware of the fading away of comments, not because they became fewer, but because they were becoming further away. She glanced up and around.

The other attendees had drawn back in a circle around them, forming a kind of ring about them, watching them while they danced. What th' hell? "Uh, Ray? I, I think we're the center of attention."

He glanced up. "So we are. How did that happen?" The band reached the end of the piece of music they were playing.

Rose sighed. There was just no help for it. Oh, well, at least this should be over with quick. "Okay, now," she said, quietly, taking his head in both her hands, "this is where tradition demands I plant one on you. Try not to throw up, 'kay?" And before he could ask what she meant, she pulled his head down towards hers, and kissed him, deeply.

More deeply, she'd later realize, than she'd ever kissed anyone before.

The surrounding audience broke into quiet applause.

The moment was broken, and she led him back to their table. A passing waiter brought them plastic glasses of fruit punch. Rose sniffed of it, suspiciously. Not only for her own reasons, but also because no one knew how alcohol would react with Ragnar's unique metabolism. It would probably have no effect, but still. A little caution was called for. "So," she said, "That was your first dance? With anyone? Ever?"

"Yes. I studied the patterns of movement in depth, with an eye towards reproducing them myself, in real life."

She smiled a kind of quick but sad smile, twirling the stem of her glass. "Sorry I wasn't…I mean, I'm sorry…I wasn't…who you wished I was."

"You are you, Rose. That's all I have any right to ask."

"Yeah, but I know you'd rather be with…her. Don't try an' deny it. I know better."

"I wasn't about to."

"So why'd you ask me to this thing? Couldn't you get a real date?" There was a moment of intense silence, and she immediately regretted saying that. "I…I'm sorry, Ray. That….that came out a lot bitchier than I intended."

He was silent for a moment. Then, "I…understand, Rose. What you are asking is, could I not have secured a date through more normal means? And the answer is, possibly. But it occurred to me this might be better."

"With me? I thought you couldn't stand me."

Grunt. "Not sure I can. But…I honestly have no idea why. I wasn't going to attend at all, until it occurred to me this would be a good way to discharge your part of the debt you swear you owe me and, at the same time, acquire some needed experience that might benefit my continued life on Earth. So here we are."

They both fell silent, and Rose processed what she'd learned. In truth, she'd come to feel strangely bound to this guy. He might be the ultimate in clueless klutzes, an albatross around her neck….but it was her neck he was around.

No matter how much she tried to deny it, he was her clueless klutz. She just plain felt responsible, somehow.

The band struck up another slow dance number. This time, she stood up, and held out her hand to him. "Well. How about another dance?"

Afterwards, they found themselves out in the garden just outside the gymnasium, where the ball was being held. Rose looked up at the night sky, trying to see the faint reddish speck that would be Mars. When Megan returned, and hopefully returned cured, she'd relinquish Ragnar to her. He'd be her responsibility from then on out. Megan would then be the one to keep him checked up and see if he was transforming. It would all be up to her, then.

The thought saddened her, for some reason.

They walked through the cool gardens. "Maybe I needed this," remarked
Rose.

"Needed it?"

"Yeah. My last experience with a senior prom was, like, a total disaster. Maybe…maybe this serves to, to supplant, 'n' override those memories."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"I'd rather not think about it, let alone talk about it. Just let it drop." She stared down into her glass. All at once it occurred to her: this was what it could have been like. This was what it should have been like: that one, perfect moment…

…And it hadda go and be with this doofus.

Well, actually, this doofus wasn't so bad. For a doofus, that is.

He saw her back to her quarters, there at Mt. Justice. At her door, he turned to her and stuck out his hand. "Thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Rose. I hereby release you from your debt."

"Hold on a moment. We're not quite finished here."

"But I just said I released you. I know it hasn't been twenty-four hours, but in that twenty-four hours, I could do whatsoever I chose, no? And I choose to release you."

"Yeah but the job isn't done yet. You wanted me to be your date for the senior prom. Technically, I've only fulfilled the most basic, bare-bones requirements of the task. And I've always taken pride in going the extra mile. And this next part is kinda traditional, most of the time, anyway. So c'mere." And she drew him into an embrace. "Here's how you do it: arms around the back, hands just below the shoulders, now bend down here…" And she kissed him again, a scorching kiss. "You know," she said, as she pulled back just a little, "It's okay if you close your eyes and think of M'gann…at times like these."

"I…don't feel that would be respectful to you, Rose. You are the person I'm kissing. You may not be the person I'm in love with, but you are the person I'm kissing. To imagine you as someone else would just be…disrespectful."

She drew back further, looking at him as if for the first time. "That's…that's actually rather…dare I say it…rather sweet of you, kid." Who'd have thought it?

"Well, anyway, I'll be going now. As I said, I had a very nice time, and I release you from your-*"

"Hold on a minute. I'm still not done."

"What more is there?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, "You know, most prom dates frequently end on a…much more intense note than this. Much more…physical."

"I don't know what you mean."

She surprised herself by taking his hands in hers. "I mean, Ragnar, that…your time isn't up. Not for several more hours. And, and…I could give you some…additional training for when M'gann does get back." She wondered if her face was as red as his was. "It's been my experience that that first time, especially between virgins, is often clumsy, awkward, and…unsatisfactory, overall."

"Rose…"

"It would be purely educational, of course. And you needn't think anything of it. Nothing between us, I mean. Just… me showing you how, some things to do. It would really be good for you both, I can promise you that."

He looked away. "I…I would feel like I was betraying Megan."

She caressed his face, speaking softly. "You wouldn't be, any more than taking me to this prom tonight was betraying her. It wasn't, and this wouldn't be either.

"It's like you said: partners look out for each other. If you saw me going into a situation where you could help me, you wouldn't hesitate, now would you? Well, this is really no different."

She drew him into an embrace. "So. Whaddaya say?"

…

"This is most fascinating, son. You've made some interesting friends since your arrival here on Earth." Bertran was the perfect hostess. She'd even provided the group with beverages and pastries, such as many Earth customs suggested.

"But Mom, what happened? I came back to the base, and it was destroyed! I searched, but couldn't find anything…"

"I know, son. The pirates who attacked had considerable firepower; I believe some of it may have been of Fourth World origin. It took me some time to regrow a new body, at one of my bases, out across the stars, and transplant my consciousness into it. Then I had to upgrade my defensive capabilities to Fourth World level—and, in a few cases, I believe, I may even have exceeded them. And then, of course, there was the light-speed limitation: information lag hampered me in finding you. I'm glad you found these New Gods, of whom you spoke; I cannot believe they are no more. Perhaps their realm has simply been…removed a bit further from ours."

She turned to the Leaguers. "I am most appreciative to you for giving my son sanctuary here. I can only imagine that this was not an easy decision for you; this universe's version of my son is evidently not one you would wish on anyone."

"That's…quite all right, ma'am," said Kal El. He, like the others, had been notably affected by Bertran's aura of authority and intelligence. It reminded him somewhat of his own Kryptonian father, Jor-El. This, he thought, in his most private thoughts, this is what Bertron could have been like… "Your son has been a tireless worker, a valuable teammate, and a good friend. We're glad to have had him."

"Mom? Uh, something…this universe, Bertron, your counterpart…he did something to one of our team members, hurt her pretty deeply. Is, is there, like, maybe some way, I mean, could you, maybe, take a look at her? An' see if, you know, you could do anything?"

"I'll certainly do what I can. Tell me: what, precisely was done to the girl?"

After the explanations, Bertran was silent, as they sat there in the small receiving room, an expression of deep concentration on her alien face. "I…see. This…is serious. Very serious. How long has she been so afflicted? That long? Hm. Time may be of the essence…where is the girl now?"

…

"I can't go back, Arisia! I mean, the whole planet…I can't go back to Earth at all!"

Arisia put her hands on her hips and gave the Martian girl a stern look. "You can't not go back. To do anything else would be running away, and, M'gann…once you start running, you don't stop. Besides, something else has come up." She told Megan about the discovery of Doomsday's "mother," the alien supergenius Bertran, who ought to be able to at least shed some light on the process that Megan had been exposed to, and possibly even effect a treatment. There was no reason to think otherwise. "But she's on Earth, so that's where you're going!"

At Megan's bleak look, Arisia softened somewhat, came over and sat by her on the simple, Spartan cot she'd been allotted. "Look, Megan. This…don't worry so much about it. All couples have secrets from each other. Some are little, some are big. I had a couple from Hal that he still doesn't know about. It didn't affect anything. Come on." Another hug. "I wouldn't steer you wrong. Just…let's just see what we can see, okay?"

"O-okay, Arisia."

To be continued….with a blast!