While this has been mentioned before, I want to clarify it: This story is a point-of-departure from the Justice League Unlimited series. After the fourth episode, Hawk and Dove, things change. Because of this, the first four episodes are canonical. This chapter takes place after the episode 'Hawk and Dove.' In my timeline, I'd say this takes place on December 2, 2002, as evidenced by the hockey game.

I was supposed to get this chapter out yesterday. Due to some poor planning on my part, that didn't happen, so I apologize.

Should you have any questions or comments, feel free to review or send me a personal message.

I do now own any DCAU characters.

While immediately after it happened, Hank blew it off, the severity of the event struck him hours later after they had gotten back to the Watchtower.

Don could have died.

That thought both frightened and angered him.

There he was, just standing in front of the damned Annihilator, refusing to fight back. Hank now knew that the lack of conflict is what led to the defeat of the armor, but it didn't make the scene he still saw play out before his eyes, nor the thumping of his heart in that moment, any easier to quell.

Don could have died.

And with that thought in mind, he marched out of room toward Don's, now furious.

Don wasn't surprised to see his brother arrive at his room - in fact, he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. Silently, Hank came into the room, tearing off his mask, though his anger having ebbed away while taking a seat on his brother's bed, not even giving a second glance to the tie-dye peace symbol poster on the opposite wall. His head in his hands, he uttered, sounding defeated, "You could have died. What were you thinking?"

"Ares was playing the Northerners and the Southerners against each other," Don replied calmly, removing his mask also once the door slid shut, "Wonder Woman realized that, and told me that suit was fueled by our rage. What would you have done, Hank?"

Hank didn't reply. Instead, he kept his head down. After a moment, he repeated, the pain obvious, "You could have died."

"Yes, I could have," Don agreed solemnly. "I didn't, though. And if it had a chance to stop the rampage, just a chance, it'd have been worth the risk."

"I simply don't understand," Hank admitted, looking up. "I don't get you at all. You're willing to risk your life for a bunch of animals who can't even maintain control over their own country."

"Hank, you know I don't see it that way," Don replied, his tone stern. "You know that. And you're willing to die for this country; is it so bizarre to consider that I would consider dying for another?"

"They're not your people, though," Hank heatedly answered.

"They are my people, Hank. Everyone is my 'people.' We're all in this together. And as Americans, we're no more worthy of a chance to live a good and decent life than the people of Kaznia."

Hank shook his head heavily at this, but held back his original reply. Instead, he went a different route.

"Did you ever once think about what I'd have to tell dad if you died?"

Taken aback, Don said, "Hank, listen: I think you're over analyzing this whole thing. Wonder Woman discovered what kept that thing fighting, and I did what I thought would stop it. As any member of the Justice League would have done."

"You're my brother before a Justice League member," Hank snarled back. "Damn it, Don. Are you saying that, in that moment, you weren't thinking about me or dad?"

"I was thinking about what was best for the people there, Hank," Don replied insistently. "And that includes you. You saw that Wonder Woman couldn't do anything against it. You didn't fare any better. If you guys kept going down that road, then that thing would have kept fighting, and then I'd have to be the one to talk to dad."

Both brothers remained silent for a moment, perhaps contemplating how such a conversation with their father would go. That would account for the pronounced frown growing on Hank's face, and the distant look behind Don's eyes.

"Hank, I'm not going to apologize for doing what was right. I shouldn't have to."

"I just wish you took my feelings more seriously," Hank stated. "I know I don't always show it, but I care for you."

"Then you have to try and respect my view of things," Don replied. "Which it seems like you never do."

At this, Hank scoffed. "As if you show my beliefs any respect."

"I respect that you have the right to believe what you want," Don clarified. "But respecting the right to have beliefs and respecting the beliefs themselves is not the same thing. How many times have you called me 'un-American' because I thought we should never have gone to Afghanistan?"

"And how many times have you called me-," Hank shot back, but stopped himself. After a heavy sigh, he said, "This isn't solving anything."

"Listen, if I did die in the field," Don began, holding up a hand when Hank was about to protest, "no, hear me out. If I ever did die in the field, and you had to talk to dad, know what I think? I think he'd understand."

Hank said nothing to this. And a few minutes passed before either of them said anything else.

"I don't know what I'd do if you died, Don," Hank said, the blunt honesty of his words evident. "I don't know if I could move forward."

"You remember when we started doing this, Hank? You remember what we were like? Two freshmen in college, brothers, but we couldn't stand to be around each other?"

Hank chuckled. "Yeah. You were flirting with a Peace Studies major, and I was making friends with the fellas on the football team. We all thought you were a pansy."

Don joined in with the chuckling. "And my friends all thought you were a neanderthal."

"Then dad was abducted," Hank said, the smile leaving his face. "And we went home in a panic."

"But we were able to work together. And that voice - that voice, gave us powers. We never found out what that voice was, did we?"

Hank shook his head. "We never did, but we didn't care. We were just amazed it worked."

"I guess the point I'm trying to make," Don gently replied, "is that we work together now. I know you care about me, and you know I care about you. That wasn't always true, as much as we'd like to think otherwise."

"But you still could have died today. And it's like you don't get how serious that is."

"Hank, I know you want to go over to Afghanistan. If it weren't for us joining the League, I know that's what you'd be aiming for after we graduated."

"So? We need to be over there," Hank replied, aggressively. "Does 9/11 not ring a bell?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Don shook his head. "I mean, you want to be over there because you think it's the right thing to do."

"Damn right it is."

"And you could die there. That's something that you're willing to risk."

It was Hank's turn to shake his head. "That's not the same thing, Don, and you know it. But just think about this a bit, will ya? I need to meet up with Commander Steel in a few." Standing up, he gave a weak smile to his brother. "I'll be by to talk to you later, so don't go to bed too early. Pansy."

Don grinned at this. "Wouldn't think of it, neanderthal." As Hank left the room, Don gave a deep sigh. He knew what he wanted, what he think he wanted, anyway. But getting to the point where he could tell his brother?

That point wasn't reaching him any time soon.

Mari, adorning a short, red dress, approached Green Lantern's room, a sly smile on her face. He acted all tough, but she was positive he had a soft side. And she was determined to get to know him well enough to see it.

A rapt knock on his door later, Green Lantern stood surprised at the sight of Vixen, especially at the sight of Vixen in as short a dress as she was wearing, which showed clearly on his face.

"Judas Priest," he uttered. Attempting to compose himself, he closed his eyes briefly. "Hello Vixen, what I can for you," he asked, his voice now calm.

"I have a reservation at Bouley's tonight," she began casually, "in Tribeca. If you get out of that costume of yours and find a jacket, you should accompy me. I think you'll find the experience rewarding."

"A jacket," Green Lantern replied skeptically. "Is this your way of asking me out?"

"As if it wasn't obvious," Mari replied, with a playful eye roll. "Porcini flan, Nantucket Blue Fin, Long Island duck, Prime New York Sirloin. You'll never feel better. Now find a jacket."

Green Lantern couldn't help but chuckle. "Listen, Vixen, I really appreciate the thought, but I'm in no position to afford any of that. No offense, but it's not gonna happen."

"I know the chef," Mari replied, her silky tone still present. "Believe me, it'll be fine." Leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear, "I saved his butt from a mugging once. We eat free."

Mari couldn't read Green Lantern's neutral face when she moved her head back. Well, she considered, go big or go home. "Listen, if you have a jacket, which I can't stress enough, I guarantee you'll have a good night."

Her brown eyes bored in Green Lantern's. Something had to give. And it did.

"Give me five minutes Vixen," Green Lantern replied, his voice gruff.

"You have three," Mari said with a smile. "Don't forget-"

"I know, I know," Green Lantern cut her off. "A jacket. I won't."

And with that, as Green Lantern slipped back into his room, Mari felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders. I did it, she thought, almost amazed that she was able to get a date with him. I did it.

Cynthia wasn't sure what she wanted to do. But she was bored. And as fun as watching hockey with Aztek could be, she wasn't feeling it.

That, and despite over an hour so far into the game, neither the New Jersey Devils or the Philadelphia Flyers had scored a single goal.

"You see that guy there," Aztek suddenly spoke, pointing at one of the many individuals on the television screen. "That's Keith Primeau. After being traded by Hurricanes, he made the winning goal in one of the longest games in NHL history, against the Pittsburgh Penguins. Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals. Man, what a nail-biter that was."

Though totally unenthused, Cynthia smiled back. Well, at least he's passionate about this stuff, her mind put forward. After stifling a sigh, she turned her head back to the television. And again, the puck was taken away by the other team at the end zone, and she groaned. "Hey, you mind if I sit out the rest of this game? Gotta be honest, sports aren't really my thing."

Aztek glanced her way, slight confusion on his face. "Sure, no problem. I get it - hockey's not for everyone. But I am glad you wanted to hang out. Next time, it's your pick on what to do."

She grinned at him. "Great. Have a good night, and try not to forget about dinner. I don't think potato chips and Fritos make up a healthy meal."

"Next commercial, I promise," he replied, turning back to the television. "You have a good night too."

Once out of the room, Cynthia sighed. Aztek was a nice enough guy, but the whole sports thing? It wasn't something that she thought she could ever dig. Looking around the hallway, she saw no one she knew, so she drifted away to the left.

It's been three months since I joined, she thought to herself, while blindly walking forward, and I've meant some great people. But no one- she stopped her train of thought, ashamed of herself. Wonder where Ralph is? Cynthia looked over her shoulder, almost expecting to see him there. To no avail.

"Oof," she exclaimed, turning her head forward and seeing she bumped into Dove. "Sorry, dude."

"It's fine," he replied, his voice sounding rather detached.

She cocked her head. "You cool, Dove? I heard about what happened earlier. In that European country. Totally cool."

Dove laughed at this, appearing more lively. "Well, thanks. I was arguing with my brother over that little stunt earlier."

"Yeah, I can totally get that. He's your brother - of course he'd have problems with you almost dying," she said, shrugging. "I don't see why you'd be so surprised."

"Well, he usually isn't much the touchy-feely type."

"You don't say," Cynthia replied, a goofy grin on her face. "You don't seem particularly happy, though. Is it your brother?"

"I don't know," Dove stated, honesty pouring out. "I mean, it's been three months since we joined the League. And I still don't feel like I fit in. I mean, you guys are cool and all," he quickly said defensively. "But there seems to be a heavier emphasis on combat than I would have expected. Wildcat, for instance, certainly doesn't seem all that interested in resolving things without conflict."

Cynthia shrugged. "He was a boxer, so I think that sorta makes sense. About the other thing, you know, the fitting in problem, I mean, we're all different type of people. Believe me," she insisted, thinking back on Aztek, "there's a lot of types here. I've made a ton of friends since joining. You know Ralph? He's a totally cool dude."

"Sure, there are some good people here, no doubt," Dove replied. "I don't know Ralph, but Obsidian seemed like a nice guy. Sort of quiet, but that's fine. It's just-" he hesitated, searching for the right words, "something just feels off. I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"Well," Cynthia thought aloud, trailing off. "You sure you even want to be in the League? Or even a hero? I mean, it just sounds like you're going through some sort of identity crisis." Dove remained silent at this, and Cynthia pressed on. "Listen, keep this between you and me, okay?" Dove nodded. "You know what I want, what I really want, right now? Weed. I haven't had any in a while. And I'd just like to lie back and chill, smoking a bowl. I'm not happy with myself over that, but it is what I want. I guess the point is, what do you want?"

"I don't know. I mean, there's stuff I want to do in life, but I don't know if now's the best time."

"Listen, Dove," Cynthia replied, "the League doesn't own you. Either does your brother. You wanna take a break? Do you think that'd make you happy? Then do it. Your brother would understand, and the League would get by. I'm a huge believer in doing what makes you feel good. And right now, if that's not the League, then don't let it hold you back from your dreams."

Dove sighed in contemplation. "Well, thanks for the chat. I'll think on this. I won't keep you any longer," he said with a small smile.

"Right on," Cynthia replied. "Hope you find what you're looking for."

As she walked away, Dove looked back at her. "I do too," he muttered.

"I just don't get it," Hawk said, after telling Commander Steel about the events of the day.

"Well, you have to give him points. By the sounds of it, standing up to that thing took a lot of courage. And he did it without hesitation. He sounds damn brave to me.

"Yeah, but at the expense of his life?" Hawk shook his head. "He compared it to me wanting to go to Afghanistan, but it doesn't feel like the same thing."

"That's because you're biased," Commander Steel replied with a chuckle, taking a bit out of his chicken leg. "You love your brother, don't want to see him hurt, and still, he puts himself in the position in which he could be gravely injured. Do you ever think about his perspective? You think he likes seeing you put yourself into dangerous positions?

"That's sorta what I do, though," Hawk said, a slight smile on his lips. "I have to think that he's resigned himself to getting used to it."

"I'm sure he hasn't, Hawk. From what it sounds like, you've always been the tough guy, and he's been the little brother. It makes sense that you're looking out for him. But you gotta understand, you're in the League now. And he has to be his own man."

"He's not like you or me," Hawk put forward. "He's a lot more sensitive and-"

"I think the word you want to say," Commander Steel cut in, "though you don't want to give the wrong impression, is 'weak.' And that's fine. He's obviously not cut from the same cloth. But he is standing up for what's right. You don't like what he did? Tough. You don't think you'll ever have to risk your life on a mission?"

Hawk threw his hands up. "We're not on a level playing field."

"You are, though," Commander Steel threw back. "In the eyes of the League, we're all on a level playing field. You, me, that faceless kook. Your brother. All of us. He's not equal to you in your eyes, but it's your eyes only."

"I feel like I'm not explaining myself well," Hawk said with a groan.

"I think he really scared you today. And I think you're going to have to find someway to get over it. It might sound harsh, but we're in the League now. That small fish stuff you two did down in the northeast? That's nothing to what we deal with on a daily basis. Hell, just last week, I was attacked by a woolly mammoth."

Thrown off track, Hawk replied, "I thought those were extinct."

"Me too," Commander Steel said grimly. "But you never know what you're going to run into on the job. A woolly mammoth. A suit of armor that fights because everyone around is fighting. You gotta be prepared to deal with whatever comes up. And you gotta let your brother do the same. I don't know what it's like having family fighting alongside you. I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted my little brother by my side in Afghanistan. I can't imagine what that's like. But it's something that I would have thought you'd get used to by now."

"Despite the jokes between us, and everything Don and I have been through, you never get used to it," Hawk replied, utterly ignoring the food on his tray. "You never get used to it."

Commander Steel shook his head and sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, friend. I don't know if you've got a hell of a choice."

The two then ate in silence, Hawk picking at his food, Commander Steel looking over his new friend, wishing he could do more.

Sniffing suspiciously at his fish, Green Lantern sighed. "Vixen, I have to hand it to you. You sure do know how to treat a man."

"And you a woman," she said, "but please, stop calling me Vixen. Mari works just fine."

Giving a good-natured chuckle, he nodded. "Fine, and you can call me John."

Replying with a sultry smile, she said, "I sure as hell wasn't going to call you Green Lantern all night."

Taking a bite of his food, he motioned to the table. Swallowing, he asked, "You come here often? I don't think I've ever been in a restaurant this elegant." As he was glancing around, Mari could see he was truly impressed, and more so, out of his element. But that didn't excuse the lame question.

"You wanna ask your real question there, hot shot," Mari inquired, her smile not leaving her lips.

John shifted uncomfortably in his cushioned chair, turning back to her. Clearing his throat, John gave her an odd look. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"And I'm sure that's bullcrap," Mari replied. "And here I thought you were a straight shooter."

"I've not done this in a while," John confessed. "This whole dinner thing. Cut me some slack."

"You want to know why I came to your room tonight, John?"

"I'm more curious why you waited as long as you did," John admitted, pulling at his collar. "I mean, I'm sure I caught your eye as far back as early September."

"You did," Mari confirmed. "But I wasn't sure. You're a great looking guy, of course. But dating a senior member? I didn't know if that was something we're allowed to do."

"What conclusion did you come to," John replied, his face hard to read.

Mari shrugged. "After thinking on it, it turned out that I don't really care what's protocol and what's not."

"Well, I appreciate the honesty," John said, a smile on his lips. "I won't lie. I am attracted to you. But going out might give other members the wrong idea."

"Ooh, scary," Mari replied sarcastically. "If that happens, just tell them to shove it. You're a founding member. Ain't no one going to hassle you."

"It's not that simple, Mari," John insistently stated.

"It is, yeah. You want something, you go for it. And other people don't come into the equation. You have your goal. And you go for it. It's that simple."

John sighed. "I need to give it some thought. I hope you understand, Mari. It has nothing to do with you."

Exasperated, Mari shook her head. "If that's how you want to do it, fine. But don't wait too long. If I think it's a lost cause, I won't waste any time on it."

In spite of himself, John smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. It's definitely not a lost cause." He looked her over, the smile widening. "Give me a few days. I'll let you know then."

"If that's a promise, then I guess I can get by," she said, taking a bite out of her salad and smiling back at John.

At first, after having walked into Don's room, Hank thought something was wrong, for he was just sitting in his chair at the desk, staring at the wall, not acknowledging him.

Hank sat on Don's bed, looking at him. "You know I'm here, right?"

"Yeah," Don replied, his voice distant. Turning to him, Don shook his head a little. "Sorry, I've done a lot of thinking since you left."

"Me too," Hank agreed amiably. "Listen, I don't understand the whole pacifist thing. I think it's crap. Someone's fighting you, you deck them, and hard. But I get that it's your thing. About earlier, I understand that you did what you had to do. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Hank," Don replied, beginning to choke up, "I don't think I want to be here right now."

Dumbstruck, Hank stared at his brother. He was wiping his eyes nonchalantly, but Hank still saw it. "What's wrong? You want to leave the League?"

"This is hard," Don stated, his left hand rubbing his head. "I don't think I even want to be a hero, not at the moment."

"What are you talking about," Hank inquired, his confusion evident. "You want to retire? And do what?"

"Take an online course, finish college, and join the Peace Corps," Don replied, with a surprising amount of vigor in his tone.

Hank sat silently. Don carried on, "I know you don't understand where I'm coming from half the time. But it's something I want to do, and now is probably one of the best times to do it. Well, after college, anyways."

"You want to give up being a hero, give up the League, to join the Peace Corps?" Hank would have laughed, but he knew Don; he was dead serious.

"Yes. I can always come back to the League if they'd take me. But right now, this isn't what I most want to do. I didn't realize it before. But I do now."

"You're my partner and my brother, and you'd just leave me up here alone," Hank asked, in both vexation and dismay.

"I need to do this, Hank. I'm sorry. But I do," he adamantly urged.

Hank gulped. His voice low, he replied, "If it'll make you happier than you are now, then I guess go for it."

It was a hollow acceptance, Don knew, but it was a start. "Thanks. Don't worry, things will work out. It's not like we'll lose contact with each other. We've been together as partners since 1999 and brothers since we were born. I love you, you know that. But this is something I have to do."

And the two brothers, despite their intense differences, in everything from politics to personality, embraced each other in a deep hug. After 30 seconds passed, they let each other go.

"When are you going?"

"I'll talk to the senior members tomorrow. I'll probably be gone before Christmas."

"Don, at least stay until Christmas," Hank replied, his voice serious. "We always go to dad's house, open presents, spike the eggnog. Don't leave 'til after that."

Resigned, Don nodded. "You've convinced me. Okay."

Hank smiled. "At least I could convince you of something once in my life."

"Sorry to surprise you," Don said. "There's a ghost of a chance it'll happen again, though, so don't get your hopes up."

And the two brothers joked with each other for the next 30 minutes. As they've been doing they're whole lives. Their differences were clear, but life brought them together. And though Don would be gone for two years, Hank knew that wasn't likely to change.

If it did, though, Hank would have words for fate - none of them pleasant.