It was dark.
The Florida air was moist with humidity and though people passed it on the street, on their way to that night's club of choice or on their way home after a long day of tiresome work there was a long ago forgotten about bar all the way at the end of a long boardwalk that was just as equally forgotten about. The boardwalk looked as if it couldn't wait for the ocean's waves to sweep it up one day and drag it into its depths while the bar looked just as old and rundown as it truly was; half rotted wooden planks were nailed outside the doors and windows.
And yet, two people— a man in mailmen's clothing, and a woman with flowers nowhere in season littering hair —sat in the dark at the bar, shoulder to shoulder and with their heads hung low as the glasses that sat in front of them laid just as barren as a farmers midwinter field.
The wind whistled over the bar's rooftop. It almost— vaguely —sounded like a train whistle.
"They're saying winter's coming early this year," the man spoke and though some people had preferences when it came to seasons the drop of the woman's face told a long tale that— if anyone else were in the bar with her, besides the man that had just spoken —would imply winter was more than just snow and ice; that winter coming early meant something else entirely.
"Do you-do you think we can put it off?" The woman asked, "Just for a little longer?" Her tongue darted out and swept across her lips. "They're happy."
"They're always happy," the man said, "As long as they're together—" he rolled his shoulder back. There were deep frown lines maring his otherwise youthful face. "—You know we can't."
"Do you think they'll win this time?" She wondered; there was a wistful tone in her voice.
"They never do."
"They could this time!" She responded with a bite. Her palm slapped against the top of the bar.
"Hey now, don't shoot the messenger," the man chuckled, "I'm just saying, they never win. At this point—" his voice grew quiet, "—I don't think they're even meant to."
A beat of silence passed between the two; they could hear the sirens outside on the street wailing. The woman's finger traced the rim of her empty glass, dark tufts of her hair fell forward and into her field of vision.
"It'll be nice though," she said a moment later, "To see them again."
"It's always nice to see them again. Part of me though wishes we wouldn't."
The woman let out a hum in agreement. She then waved her hand over the two empty glasses and liquid— bright golden liquid that glimmered in the dark like an oil lantern's light —began to fill them.
When the liquid was at the glass's brim and the woman's hand had pulled back, she plucked her glass up by its long crystalline stem; as if it were a rose. And perhaps if it had been any less full she would have begun to twirl it between her thumb and forefinger as such.
The man, after a moment— he had looked down at his glass with such a look of contempt it was a wonder that the golden contents did not curdle —picked up his glass as well. He held it in the air.
"He's not a musician in this life." He checked in with his boy from time to time and while he had heard him humming, this version of his boy didn't know how to strum an instrument or write a melody like he once had.
Still though, he had a songbird's voice. He'd watched the school plays; lead after lead year in and out when life permitted it.
"She's not as cynical." She had passed her on the street; bright eyes and brighter smiles almost seemed out of place if you had known her originally but then she had seen who was at that poor girls side and it made sense.
Her brother was right, they're always happy as long as they were together.
The pair breathed in and then out before they clinked their glasses together.
…
The romantics had written poems about this feeling; Arley Gluck was in love and the world was alight for it. Maybe not always— maybe there were dark nights where Arley wanted nothing more than to eat the wrong end of a construct —but on the days she was with Wally West and the feeling of love filled her chest cavity with every breath she took, they were.
Wally made Arley remember war didn't fill every part of her life, blood and hurt didn't need to rule her. He made her warm; soft even. He helped her see the better side of things.
He showed her what life could be.
It was storming outside. It was as if the heavens had opened up and said enough . The wind howled in a way Arley had never known it to but it was none of the Lanterns business because Arley Gluck and Wally West sat in the Mount Justice's library.
Wally's lithe arms were wound around Arley's shoulders and waist, her chin rested on his right forearm whilst she rested the bottom of her book— Song of Achilles —on his left.
Arley flipped the page; she didn't bother checking to see if Wally was done with the page because she knew he had long ago stopped following along with her and instead taken to absentmindedly scratching the top and sides of her head with the hand he had tangled in her hair while he rested his eyes.
He is half of my soul, as the poets say.
Arley cast her eyes up. Freckles and pale skin; fiery red hair and a small smile that Arley couldn't help but smile back at.
He is half my soul , Arley thought fondly. Or so the poets say .
They had met at nine; she had known him for over half her life. There was no her without him.
"What are you looking at beautiful?" Wally smiled. His eyes were still closed.
Arley couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped her.
"How do you know I'm not still reading?"
"Because I can feel you thinking."
"You can feel me thinking?" Arley quirked a brow; Wally's right eye cracked open and the speedster smirked at the Lantern. Giddiness flowed through her as he looked at her.
"Course I can Glow."
"You're full of it." Wally let out a playful gasp; he readjusted his grasp on Arley and held her tighter to him. So tight Arley could feel his hummingbird heart against her back.
"Come on Glow don't you know?" Wally's breath was hot against her ear, "I'd never lie to you."
Arley turned to Wally, his nose brushed against the bridge of hers while her lashes danced against his skin.
"No?"
"Never."
Arley leaned in, her lashes fluttered shut as his warm lips pressed against hers; her body turned and the book they had been reading fell to the floor with an uncared for clatter.
Wally wasted no time before tangling all of his fingers in Arley's hair.
When she had been a girl, before the streets but still in the throes of the system Arley hadn't thought this kind— consuming, warming; the kind that burned from the inside out —love existed. Arley had thought it was all tall tales and stupid stories that sat on library shelves.
She's never thought she'd get to partake in it.
Arley had only tipped her head upwards, allowing Wally better access to kiss her when she jumped at the sound of a familiar alarm blaring throughout the Mount Justice cave.
Arley heaved a sign against her love's lips. She was a hero— a Lantern —and this was her life but by gods would she rather stay wrapped up in Wally's arms and have someone else just deal with the villains mess.
"Come on beautiful," Wally murmured, his forehead knocked against Arley's. "Let's go save the world."
"Okay handsome, whatever you say dear." And as Wally laughed while she rolled off the seat they'd been tangled on, Arley's heart swelled.
She could listen to that sound for the rest of her life easily.
…
Arley had been eight when the universe had bestowed power upon her; back then the Guardians had taken her by her hand and led her into the crypt that laid underneath Oa's surface and told her this would be her fate.
A Lantern's life was not guaranteed and that she would be lucky to live into the early years of her adulthood. Not well into or late but early; it had been explained to her that she would be lucky if she made it to eighteen and at the time— at eight years old and half dead back then —ten years had seemed like a lifetime.
And it had been; ten years had been enough. Every time she went out on a mission she made peace with the fact she could die. She'd imagined death so much by nineteen that it felt more like a memory she constantly relieved rather than an image she was trying to conjure.
Wally was never supposed to go first.
In all the times Arley had imagined laying on a battlefield, covered in blood she had never imagined the blood covering her hands wouldn't be hers. That it would be Wally's. That it would be him, with his head in her lap and his blood on his teeth as he choked to death in her arms.
It was always supposed to be her here; there in that position.
The bodies— mangled and limp —of henchmen littered the warehouse; Arley was usually so careful when on Earth, but the love of her life was in her arms, bleeding in the kind of way that Arley had nightmares about and at that moment she couldn't find it in herself to care what Batman or Dick or any other League member would have to say.
Because Wally was in her arms, bleeding out.
"Please!" Arley begged Wally, her fingers threaded through his hair, "Please you have to hold on just a little longer! You-you can't leave me!"
Dick and the others, they were always supposed to be too late to save her; Arley had imagined the scenario one hundred and one times. They were never supposed to be nearly, almost, in time to save Wally.
"Arley," Wally gurgled; his chest shuttered and Arley sobbed. His hand lifted and though it was covered in blood— his blood —she let him press it against the side of his face.
Wally's eyes focused and unfocused.
Arley had been eight when she'd been turned from street rat to soldier; she'd been ten when she had taken her first life.
"Please," she begged, "Please stay."
It was futile, she knew; but she couldn't just stand there quietly and allow death to take him.
"Glow."
Arley sniffled. She'd always hated the nickname; Glowstick . It was stupid and childish and Arley wanted nothing more than to wake up for the rest of her life hearing him say it.
"Don't leave me," she cried, her forehead pressed against his. "Please, don't leave."
He was never supposed to leave her.
Wally's lip quivered as he opened his mouth to say something else only to fall open as his last breath of air passed through his lips and if no one heard the agonizing, gut wrenching scream Arley let out, it was only because of the roll of thunder that has passed over them; and if they did, it was only because they had arrived in the bio-ship several minutes too late.
…
Wally's funeral was on a cold September first. Winter had come early; frost was already biting at the withering blades of grass.
It seemed only fitting that the world should come to a close with Wally; he had after all been brighter than life.
He is half my soul, as the poets say.
Arley was dressed in black. Hal held her up throughout the service; his arm was looped around her middle all throughout the eulogies and on the walk from the church to the gravesite— gravesite , Wally was to be buried —Arley had been wedged between Hal and Dick so as not to crumple mid-step on the cobblestone walkway.
He is half my soul.
Flowers littered the top of Wally's casket. The casket was beautiful; glossy, brightly colored wood. Not that it was surprising Bruce had paid for it and Wayne's always got top of the line.
My soul is dead.
Arley couldn't breathe, her lungs expanded on instinct but she didn't feel the air enter into her lungs. There was a weight on her chest and Arley hoped it crushed her to death.
Wally had never supposed to been first and perhaps that was selfish of Arley— to be angry that it wasn't Wally standing in the graveyard —but she had been prepared for what, in Arleys mind, was only the logical order of the world.
Her and then after sixty years and some then Wally. Because he would miss her, he would cherish the memories they had made but he would have lived his life.
He would have lived a life.
Arley couldn't do that; she knew it in her bones. There was no real future for her; she was a Lantern and she'd die sooner or later and then they'd both be dead, and for what?
Villains still walked the earth, no big social movement would come; the universe would go on and at least—if only — Wally had lived he could have continued to make the world a better place.
It was only after the sea of people that had come to lay the love of Arley's life to rest had started to disperse did a beautiful, tall woman Arley knew fairly well appear in front of herself, Hal and Dick. A dark skinned man dressed in silver— not black the way everyone else was —stood behind the woman.
Odd enough once Arley took in the man's silver suit she then noticed he had brought a messenger bag with him. The kind mailmen carried over their shoulders whilst in their rounds.
The elderly man looked solemn; nearly on the verge of tears. He hovered closely behind the woman in front of Arley, like he was waiting for some sort of pitiful queue.
Arley knew his face, she couldn't place from where but her gut screamed at her, telling her that she knew the man.
"Diana," Hal said softly.
"Hal, Dick," Diana Prince— Wonder Woman —murmured with a nod. Her eyes never left Arley's; she looked rueful. "Arley, I'm sorry."
A flicker of something spiteful flared to life in Arley's gut. Sorry was such a pitiful thing to say in a graveyard. Sorry for what? Sorry wasn't going to bring Wally back-was Diana sorry she could raise the dead?
Or was she just saying sorry because seeing someone so young— so bright —like Wally— someone who was supposed to live a long happy life —was a tragedy that couldn't probably be put into words and sorry was the only thing that would come out.
Nonetheless Arley nodded, "Thanks."
Diana opened her mouth only to close it, her brows pinched together. Arley watched as the Amazon palmed the thighs of her dress, the woman shifted with Hal, blocking him from moving around her.
"Diana?" Hal asked thickly.
"I'm sorry Hal," Diana said in a thick, regretful voice, she stepped closer to Arley. She looked so— so —sorry.
"For what?"
Diana Prince ignored Hal. Her chin tipped up. She reached her hand back for the elderly man; the silver three piece the man was wearing was something Arley could practically hear Wally complementing
"Arley, this is Hermes, messenger of the Gods."
Hal started coughing; Dick just clutched Arley closer as the God smiled sadly at her.
"Arley now, is it?"
"What else would it be?" The smile changed from sad to knowing. The God didn't answer, instead he held a wrinkled hand out for Arley to take.
"Let's take a walk Arley , we need to talk."
"What the hell do you need with my kid now?" Hal asked sharply. He shifted his weight so that he was half in front of Arley; smack dab between her and a God.
"Just a chat Harold Jordan," Hermes said simply, " Arley —" he said her name like he knew something, "—And I need this chat."
"Do we?"
"Yes," Hermes said simply, there was no more room for argument, "We do."
"Okay," Arley replied with little— if any —hesitation.
"Kid—"
"—Arley—"
"—It's fine," Arley said softly as she took her hands from Hal and Dick. "We're just talking. We won't go to far." And without listening to anything else either of the other heroes said Arley took the wrinkled God's hand and began to walk through rows and rows of tombstones, only stopping when the remnants of Wally's funeral procession were more dots than people.
"Hermes?"
"Call me an old friend," the God said. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets.
"I didn't know that's what we were." Arley tried to be respectful to all powerful beings bearing anything that should stop her but only a few dozen yards from wherethe love of her life was buried Arley couldn't care less if she was struck down for impertinence or not.
Because Wally was dead and she was worse off for it.
"In your first I'd like to think we were thick as thieves." The man smiled like he had just cracked a joke; Arley only half remembered that Hermes was God of travelers and thieves.
Arley just blinked.
"My first? First, what?"
"Life," Hermes said simply. He leaned against a gravestone, he took his hands from his pockets and crossed arms. "Few people get as many as you and your boy but all the same Arley —" there he was again, saying her name like that, "—This isn't your first."
Arley, as she nodded, digesting the information that she had just been given, braced herself against the high wind that blew past her and the God.
"And?" Hermes blinked in return.
"I'm sorry?"
"And? Look Mr. Hermes I don't know you and if you're just here to say hi and have some kind of stroll down memory lane-not today. Not here."
"You're like her," Hermes observed, "The soul can only take so much loss, can't it?"
"What are you talking about?" Arleys mouth twisted.
"Eurydice," Hermes said simply. Arley knew that name; she had read it so many times over the years. She gapped at the God as he contained, looking up at the stormy sky, "You're so much like her this time around. You used to be this sweet boy-a little naive who saw the way the world could be but now? Now you're seeing it for how it is, aren't you?"
Arley gripped the edge of a marble headstone.
"You're saying—" Arley felt her heart leap into her throat.
"—Yes," Hermes nodded, his gaze once more on her. "So you understand why I'm here, don't you brother?"
"I can bring him back."
"Perhaps." Arley took three steps forward.
"What do you mean perhaps?" She was a Green Lantern— at least, apparently, in this lifetime —which meant there was no try, there was only do.
She would bring Wally back to her.
"I have to give you a choice," Hermes answered, "I have to ask, even if the tale ends in sorrow, is this what you want? Another trail in life? Another test?"
The words were barely out of the Gods mouth before Arley was nodding, "Yes!"
"Yes!" She said once more, "For Wally there's no test or trial or tribulation I wouldn't go through!"
"What if you have to walk the length of the Earth? From one end to the other?"
"Then I'd do it! For him I'd go to the end of Earth! The end of time and space if that's what it took getting him back!"
"Well then this is the start." Hermes reached his hand out to Arley. His palm faced the sky. Arley took the Gods hand, "You're not dead, so you'll have to go around the back."
"Okay, whatever I need to do I'll do it."
Hermes smiled but like it had been, it was sad. "You always say that kid."
Arley frowned at the God, the pads of her fingers bit into Hermes' palm.
"Mr. Hermes?"
"Yeah brother?"
"Thank you." The sad smile stretched out along the gods face.
"For what, I'm just doing my job."
The tightly wound ball in Arley's throat bobbed. She could bring Wally back.
"For coming to get me." She watched as the God nodded, his hand slipped over hers. There were tears in the corner of his eyes.
"Don't thank me yet brother, we haven't saved that muse of yours."
"Not yet." Failing was an option.
And as Arley felt herself and the God shimmering out of the graveyard and to somewhere— to one step closer to Wally —she couldn't help it. A voice in the back of her head whispered to her to do so.
She looked back to Hal, Dick and Diana until she couldn't anymore.
Because she was on a long stretch of road out in some desert. The sun beat down on Arley; sweat— maybe because it felt like it was hundred and two, maybe because she was in black mourning clothing , maybe because of both those factors —immediately started to gather on the back of her neck
"Where are we?" Arley asked the God. Arley would say it, no matter how many different planets she visited over the years every desert was the same. If you saw one you never needed to see another no matter if it was across the universe or just outside of town.
"Nevada. Middle of nowhere."
"Why?"
"Cause trains haven't been a thing in a minute brother," Hermes chuckled, "The road to hell used to be on a railroad track but trains died out with the use of the automobile."
"So the road to hell is a literal road?" Hermes just hummed.
"There's a bar, a rest stop somewhere up there. Chiron will be there serving souls waiting their turn."
"And I'll find Wally there?" Hermes chuckled at Arley's question. He shook his head.
"Nah. No, Hades and Persephone, they'll have brought your girl down immediately."
"Why?" Arley asked suspiciously. She wasn't above fighting literal gods for Wally. She would; for him there was little she wouldn't do.
"What part of this not being your first doesn't compute. Arley, they know Wally the same as I know you. They just want to say hi."
"Oh." Arley blinked.
"Here." Hermes had slipped the leather messenger's bag over his head and had thrusted it out into Arley's direction. "You'll need these."
Arley didn't hesitate in opening the bag; inside of it was a change of clothes. A pair of boots; worn looking jeans and T-shirt and suspenders.
"It's a long way walking, you can't do that in heels and a dress."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet, just keep your head down and until you see your muse don't look nobody in the eyes okay?"
Arley leaned closer to the God. "Why?"
Hermes chuckled, "Haven't you heard? Eyes are the window to the soul." There was more to the statement that Hermes, God of Messengers didn't say but Arley heard nonetheless.
They'll steal your soul, carry it with them where theirs should be and never let it go. You'll be one of them before you know it if you look at them properly.
"Oh."
"And Arley?"
"Yeah?"
"You can't take your ring with you, you're gonna have to send it off."
"Why!" Lanterns don't take their rings off, once you were chosen the only time you should find your finger bare was when it was too late; when you were dead.
"Those Guardians of yours are gods in their own right and you can't take a godly weapon into the domain of another without starting a real problem." Hermes raised his chin, his shoulders slipped back so that his spine was straight and he no longer looked like the frail old man Arley had seen in the graveyard.
There was something about the being in front of her that made Arley's heart tug in her chest.
He looked Godly. Wrinkles and all.
"Now I'll ask again kid, do you want to do this?"
Arley didn't answer aloud, instead— never breaking eye contact with Hermes; his eyes were the same kind of gray as storm clouds —she just sent the ring to Hal.
Hermes clasped Arley on the shoulder when her ring was no longer in their line of sight. "I'll see you on the other side then."
And just like he had shimmered out of the graveyard with her, dispersing in ripples until he was completely gone leaving Arley alone in the hot dessert.
Arley gripped the bag in her hands. She knew how the story of Orpheus and Eurydice ended and yet she opened the bag she'd been given and started changing.
She would save Wally; this wouldn't be the same sad story she knew so well.
There was no other option.
Once changed— with the suspenders hanging low and the bag full of her funeral clothes over shed shoulder —Arley started walking. And walking. She remembered her time with Wally as she took one step after another and the more she remembered how right being by his side had been, how easy it had been to love him, Arley supposed it made sense.
Their love transcended time and space. It echoed throughout the universe always— apparently —repeating.
One tragedy after another.
Arley frowned. She stopped mid-step as cold, icy doubt curled through her veins. She was Orpheus, Mr. Hermes had said that much; Wally her Eurydice. Arley knew how their— how her story —had ended that first time around.
Orpheus had looked back and Eurydice had been banished back to the underworld for it. There was no second chances in this lifetime; Wally would be lost if she failed.
Her hands curled into fists as she saw a mirage on the side of the road.
I will not fail.
Three old women, all in rocking chairs sat along the asphalt. One was knitting, one was untangling the gold-like yard and the last had an ancient looking pair of scissors in hand.
Arley's heart leapt into her throat.
She knew those women. Fear prickled at the base of her spine as she walked toward the three old women.
"Son of song," one of the old crones— the one knitting —hissed.
"Daughter of Light," the woman with the untwined yarn hissed after.
"Courtier of Death," the last announced. "Hello," all three said at once, each one cackling at their greeting. "It's lovely to see you again, child."
"Bah," one of the women scoffed, "We'll see them again. We'll see them forever."
Fire burned inside Arley; "The hell you will!" The Lantern snapped, "I'm getting Wally and we're breaking this fuck up little cycle you all have going on!"
The crones cackled loudly. Two threw their heads back against their chairs.
"You have said that many times, child. You always look back."
"I won't."
The woman with the yarn shrugged; "Believe it, for if you doubt yourself already it is all lost."
"It was lost when she signed her name all those eons ago," the crone with scissors sneered.
Arley's brows knitted together. "Signed my name?"
"You should go boy," the one knitting said; "You should play out your fate. There is no point in fighting it."
"Don't look back child."
"It won't matter if you do."
But it did. Arley didn't care if she had another lifetime with Wally, that wouldn't be the same. They wouldn't be the same.
Arley had him now and here, and she wouldn't just let him go because Fate said so.
So Arley took off once more. She could hear the crones cackling as the sun beat on the back of her neck, even after she turned to look back for the women and she could no longer see them.
The laughter must have been in her head; a whisper in her ear she couldn't quite shake because when she had turned back and she could no longer see the crones their maniacal laughter had rang out just as clear as it'd been when the Lantern had come across them.
Arley shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants and began singing a song that was stuck in her head— imprinted onto her brain —under her breath.
"La, la, la, la, la, la, la," Arley sang softly. There was more; more melody, more words but Arley found her tongue seemingly stuck to the top of her mouth as she tried to get the song out, instead stuck on that, "La, la, la, la, la, la, la."
Warm wind and hot sand blew past Arley as she continued on her trek humming a melody she couldn't place but knew there was more too until she saw it.
There was no sign but Arley knew that the shack of the bar in front of her was what Mr. Hermes had told her about. The windows were boarded up and the roof looked as if it would fly off at the slightest of blows. The whole bar did, nonetheless Arley's mouth tightened as it twisted down.
Into, as they said, the belly of the beast.
Sweat burst forth from Arley's palms.
I'm coming, Arley thought. God I'm coming Wally, just wait for me and I'll fix this.
I'll make it right, she added on mentally as she— with a breath caught in her throat —pushed open the heavy doors.
Jazz music immediately filled Arley's ears. The souls of people sat at tables with half full drinks, all with their heads down, not even looking up at the person across from them.
The band playing the jazz was a mostly skeleton band; Arley could see the arm bones of the pianist and their left cheekbone while the man— the one behind the bar counter —shined glass after glass.
The man's face was long and pale and the skin around his mouth was almost blue looking. His mouth was twisted down.
Chiron . Arley knew the man behind the bar wasn't a man but another god.
"Come on in Song Bird," Chiron smiled. His teeth were whistled down and yellow, reminding Arley of pencils more than the molds she would see in a dentist's office.
"Hey," Arley stepped to the bar, her fingers curled around the thick wood; there was a warm feeling in her chest seeing the God before her gave her the same warm, reminiscent feeling that seeing Hermes had.
For the first time since meeting Wally at eight Arley felt seen; so many people only saw fractures of her— friend, classmate, soldier, hero —but Chiron looking at her made Arley feel as if the God saw all of her.
She smiled at him. "I see you're still working with a skeleton crew."
"That joke was dry after the fifth time you told it Song Bird."
Fifth.
How long have we been around? Arley couldn't help but wonder as she pressed her forearms against the rounded bar edge.
"Yeah well," Arley shrugged with a rough smile on her face, "My bad I don't remember."
Part of Arley did feel bad she couldn't remember the conversations she had with the God; with any of them. Mr. Hermes had been so kind to her, so familiar, that part of Arley yearned to know why she was missing.
"You always apologize Song Bird, and like I always tell you, don't take it heart, the Fates can be cruel."
"Can be?" Arley's brow arched. Like much of her life this wasn't fair; she covered those she loved and though she couldn't remember Mr. Hermes or Chiron, she knew her chest was warm because she cared for the gods in front of her and yet all they were to her were strangers.
Chiron hummed in agreement. He then nodded to the stage the Skeleton band had cleared. "Sing me something, Song Bird? Before you go?"
"I'm not that good," Arley claimed. Sure she'd been the lead in a few school musicals but those were high school productions, nothing special.
"You'll be fine up there, you always are."
Arley surveyed the God for a moment. He had stopped wiping down glasses and his bony hands were braced against the bar; Arley had seen him before.
A light went off above her head.
She'd been eight and on the street and a man she didn't know in a three piece suit and tie had been walking past the alleyway she'd been living out of for the past week and half when he had stopped dead in his tracks and set a bag of McDonalds down in the mouth of the alley.
Their eyes had met. Arley had thought he was going to attempt to coax her out either to throw her into the back of a car or back into the system.
But he hadn't.
He had smiled and then he had walked away without so much as saying a word to Arley.
Why?
"Okay," Arley said softly, her eyes never leaving the God as she slid out of her seat. She stepped onto the stage and grabbed the war era looking microphone.
She scanned the sea of souls; she caught several of their eyes. Slowly she closed her own. A song came to mind; not the melody in the back of her head but one of the campfire songs she had learned while in the Corps.
"I look into your eyes" Arley began to sing; "And I think back to the son of mine. You're as old as he was when I left for war."
Kilowog had taught her the song, his drill sergeant had taught it to him.
"Will these actions haunt me? Every man I've slain, is the price I pay, endless pain—" Arley felt her throat tighten as she thought of the lives she'd taken, of what she had done in this life.
Would the previous versions of herself even be able to look at herself now? Or would even she turn from herself in disgust at what she had done.
Morningstar was a badge of honor in the Corps but it was an albatross around Arley's neck.
Two hundred and fifty thousand lives: an army and more all snuffed out with a flex of her hand and impenetrable will.
"Close your eyes and spare yourself the view. How could I hurt you? I'm just a man, who's trying to go home. Even after all of these years away from what I've known I'm just a man, who's fighting for his life. Deep down I would trade the world to see my son and wife."
Wally West was the love of Arley's life.
Lives apparently.
And she would; despite all she had done Arley would burn the world alive for Wally. She'd trade it in a heartbeat; had traded her ring for him.
"I'm just a man. But when does a comet become a meteor? When does a candle become a blaze? When does a man become a monster? When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame? When does a man become a monster?"
Arley sucked in a deep breath of air.
"Forgive me."
Chiron was the first to clap, then the band who had occupied the spot Arley had stood in for an eon or so and then slowly the souls had started to clap only to stop once Arley had made her way back to the bar.
"That was a nice song Song Bird."
"Thanks."
Chiron touched her hand, his bony thumb ran itself across the back of Arley's hand. A sad smile played on his lips.
"Come on Song Bird, the King will be awaiting you." Arley didn't reply, she just followed the God around the bar and to the back where between the boxes of booze laid a door.
"Take the stairs all the way down, follow the path and you'll find yourself in her Lady's garden."
"Thank you."
"I'll see you around Song Bird," Chiron said, "Whether it's when you come back up or in your next life I'll see you."
"It'll be the first," Arley said; she said it as if there was no other option. She couldn't fail, not Wally and not when he needed her now most of all.
"I'll see you," and with that the God left Arley to stand at the doors of the underworld.
Once the door Chiron had lead her and left once more through had clicked shut Arley barreled through the door only to stop atop of the dimly lit staircase.
The song, the melody in her head crescendoed aloud around her.
La, la, la, la, la.
Arley took her first shaky step down the staircase and then her second and then her third; it wasn't until she was halfway down the staircase that she heard a name, whispered just under the melody's hum in her ears.
Pedro. A Portuguese king who loved his wife even after death. Who had punished those who had taken her from him with the kind of ferocity that the history books made sure to take note of.
Then over Pedro came Juliet . The daughter of an Italian Lord so in love with her Romeo that sonnets for centuries to come would be written about them.
Another stair, another name; Lancelot . A knight who's love tore a kingdom apart.
And then another; Iseult . A princess wed to another; another kingdom forsaken in the name of love.
Hero . A priestess who gave up her vows every night so that her lover could swim across a lake to the candle— the light —she had lit to guide his way.
Orpheus.
Arley reached the last step. Her past lives; she had been them all, from Pedro in her last life to Orpheus in her first to whoever she was in that moment.
Arley's fingers curled into her palms as she thought of the names echoing in the back of her mind— over the song playing in her ears;la la la la la — because for the most part she had known them.
Doomed, star crossed lovers who's tales echoed throughout time.
Arley ignored the weight bearing down at her. She ignored the words of the three women knitting on the side of the road and instead Arley looked around.
Cave walls were all around but it was far from dark. Despite the fact that she was in the underworld and that there was no sky— no sun —it was bright.
Or at least, the horizon was bright. Down at the edge of the path she had been told to follow was light.
Arley set off towards it.
With each step she remembered. The weight of her crowns, the Italian countryside and how beautiful that once was. The laughter of the mythical king she had once called friend and the thrill at the base of her spin when she would light the candle every night; her sisters in vows could not find out.
She could remember the lyre. Strumming it as she approached a woman with dark eyes and a smile that could power the sun.
Arley knew that smile. She lived for that smile, even now.
"Marry me." They'd only just met.
"You're crazy." She was smiling. Blushing. She liked him.
"Marry me—"
"—Wally!" At the base of a tree in a luscious garden sat Wally West. He was reading, though at the sound of his name his head snapped in Arley's direction.
"Glow!" And he was running; whatever he had been reading was thrown behind him.
Arley ran to him. He ran at a human speed; not what he had grown used to over the past several years and for a second Arley wondered if death meant his speed was gone.
When she saved him— not if but when —would he get it back or was his meta-gene once more locked away?
They met in the middle in a puddle of arms and tears and slobber. Arley clung to Wally as he kissed her deeply; far more deeply than he had ever kissed her before.
She didn't care. As they kissed Arley couldn't find it in herself if Wally ever got his speed back or if the Guardians allowed Hal to return her ring or even if the world continues to spin because they were together.
Wally kissed the same. In every lifetime he kissed the same, Arley's heart always twisted the same in her chest as her lungs cried out for air because she didn't quite care that her body needed oxygen.
She needed the redhead in front of her far more than she'd ever need to take a breath.
"I found you!"
"How could you not Glow," Wally said, his forehead touching hers. "You've found me every other time."
"You remember?"
"All of it," Wally confirmed, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Glow, I called you that the second time, because of the candle, always guiding me back to you."
He had died drowning that time; one too strong a wave on one exceptionally dark night. The water had already been the coldest he'd ever swam in it.
He'd been doomed from the start.
Arley tried to remember if they had made it back in that lifetime.
She couldn't. With a sharp breath in Arley realized she could now remember her past lives— meeting Mr. Hermes in all of them, the faces of past friends; meeting Wally throughout every past life and and falling in love with him mid-dance every time —but she couldn't remember if she had ever succeeded in returning from the underworld.
Star crossed lovers; doomed from the start.
Fear twisted in Arley's guts.
She couldn't fail. Not this time.
She latched closely onto Wally and he latched himself back just as close.
The large wooden doors that lead from the garden to the obsidian made castle opened with a loud creek and both Wally and Arley turned; two large figures— both standing at least six feet tall —stood in the brightly lit doorway.
A man and a woman. God and Goddess; king and queen.
Arley smiled automatically at the sight of Hades and Persephone.
"Orpheus!" Persephone cried with a smile, her arms out wide. There were flowers— roses, lilys, daisies and marigolds —all in her orange hair. The color reminded Arley of the terra-cotta vases she would see in the Greco-Roman mistake wings she loved to visit.
"My Lady!" Arley didn't completely detach from Wally as the gods got closer, her hand was still in his as the Queen of the Underworld took her other.
"You have the same eyes. Hades!" Persephone cheered with glee, "Orpheus has the same eyes as before!"
Arley could remember Hades and Persephone's relationship changing. She could remember the distance between the King of the Dead and his wintertime wife the first time she had decided into the underworld's depths in search of her love.
Back then. They could barely be in the same room and if they were Persephone couldn't be sober; she hadn't been able to stand her husband back then but now Arley observed with a smile how in love they were.
The Kings hand hovered over the small of his wife's back.
"He does," Hades agreed. He then turned to look at Arley, "Songbird," he nodded.
"My Lord and King," Arley bowed her head and Hades, the King of Shadows bellowed a good natured laugh the title.
"Oh how I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you Orpheus."
"I think the sentiment is the same across the board my Lord," Arley replied in earnest because Hades was fun, he was loud and extravagant.
He reminded Arley of Hal. Perhaps that was why, despite all her trust issues she had taken to the older Lantern when she'd been younger; because somewhere in the back of her mind— somewhere in her soul —she had seen the King of the Underworld in the man.
Perhaps if it wasn't for the fact they always met on the worst day of Arley's life the Lantern was sure she would have far more fond memories of the God, as she had plenty of Persephone.
She had known the Queen well in her first life; like Hermes, Persephone had been a friend of her mother's.
In her second thought Hero had been a priestess to Aphrodite, the Queen of the Underworld had visited regularly whenever Wally wasn't sneaking in through her window.
And in this life, Arley knew those eyes.
Her social worker. After her first had been fired due to negligence— a boy had died because a house she had claimed to have checked hadn't been —and before Mrs. Thomas, there had been Kore.
She's been kind, ran her fingers through Arley's hair absentmindedly whenever Arley was sitting next to her during a visit.
She's been so attentive and kind and when she had disappeared— word was that she had died; no one was sure which crime lord or villain had done it, just that she was no longer in the land of the living —Arley had mourned.
"Kore," Arley whispered; the walls seemed to hum alive at the name and Persephone's lips twisted up.
"That's a name I haven't heard in a while, my little tree nymph."
Arley smiled at the nickname. Kore had started calling her that after one too many times finding her up a tree whether it was because she had run away again or because there was just a sturdy enough one in the park she and her foster siblings had been taken to.
"It's good to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same," Persephone said.
Arley wasn't hurt at the words, she shared the sentiment. The four of them stayed there quite for a moment; the song ringing in Arley's ears grew louder and louder the longer the silence lapsed.
"You hear it," Hades said , "The song."
"It's what I sang isn't it?" Arley replied, "The first time I came down here, this is the song."
"It is, the stones whither the sands of time but they remember. Your song, Song Bird, changed them."
Arley's brows twisted up. Her memories backed more and more blurry the further back she went.
"What?"
"There were never stairs before, there was a slope, an incline for what was one day, supposed to be my train and railway line. The rest station is there because of the stairs."
"And the stairs are because of us?" Wally blinked.
"In a way; Orpheus sang and the rocks changed to help you get back to the world of the living."
"That was sweet," Wally then commented.
"It was," Persephone agreed; "It's why Aphrodite didn't strike our Song Bird down in your second lives for betraying their oaths. A love so strong that it could move stone."
"A love so strong it brought the seasons back," Arley mused; it was hard, the memories were fuzzy but she could vaguely remembers summer heats that blistered so hot that the stone roads became inaccessible even to the horses that trotted along them and winters so harsh that olive trees had splintered in two due to the frostbite.
"A love that echoed through time," Hades nodded, "You two must make the trip once more."
"We know." Wally's grip tightened on Arley's hand.
"You mustn't look back or else her soul—" Hades motioned to Wally, "—Will be kept down here until it is time to reincarnate and you will be sent back to the land of the living, to live out the rest of your days without them."
"We know." Arley's knuckles whitened.
"Please," the King of Shadows said to Arley— pleadingly —softly, "Don't look back."
"I won't," Arley swore. Hades face stayed deep set into a frown, like he didn't believe she wouldn't look back.
Like he knew she was doomed to fail Wally. Her heart pounded in her chest nearly drowning out the song in her ears.
Arley wondered if the other three could hear it.
"I know you won't," Persephone nodded her sad smile right but hopeful, "You've been through so much in this lifetime if anyone can withstand the urge to look back, it'll be you."
Arley smiled at that; "Thank you my Lady."
Persephone's lip seemed to wobble. Hades collected his wife closer to his side, tucking her into his arm.
"You should go," Hades said kindly, "Go back the way you came, if you make it, Hermes will meet you in the bar."
"He'll take us home?"
"He'll buy you two drinks first brother," Persephone said with a nod.
"Come join us for one, one day," Wally told the Queen, "Next spring, it'll be nice to see you again."
"We'll visit a jazz club. Just like we used to," Persephone agreed, there were tears in her eyes. Unlike human tears the Goddess's tears truly glitter under the underworld's electrical grids lighting.
She didn't think they'd make it either. She was kind, a breath of fresh air. But she too thought they were doomed.
They weren't; Arley wouldn't let them be. She would not doom Wally.
She couldn't for if she did let him down then she'd come right back down those stairs and stay in the underworld.
"We should go," Arley breathed. She clutched Wally's hand in hers as she took a step back towards the back gate in which she had entered through.
"Remember," Hades said, "One and two, in line. No talking, no reassurance, you get your muse when you're topside."
"I know."
"Good Luck Song Bird," Hades bided farewell.
"You got this Orpheus!" Persephone cheered.
When they got to the mouth of the iron tossed gate Wally untangled his hand from Arley's and caught her wrist in his grip, his thumb traced over the bone of her wrist.
"I'm right behind you Glow," Wally swore with a reverence Arley only ever heard when he'd tell her how much he loved her; "No matter what I have your back okay."
He was telling her not to look back. Arley nodded without any hesitation because he was promising to stay behind her and Wally West didn't lie to her; not ever.
No matter what— the rest of Arley's world could be falling apart; she could find out everyone else in her life fed her nothing but lies on a constant basis but —Wally Wests words to her would still ring true.
Because he never lied to her.
"Okay."
"Glow?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you, you know that right? You're my world." Arley's lip quivered. Her heart pounded in her chest.
"I love you more Handsome."
"Nah," Wally grinned. "Impossible." And then he kissed her. It was fierce and hot; it told Arley just how much Wally loved Arley without any sonnets or declarations.
It was enough for Arley to steady herself internally. The doubt that had been slowly creeping in staved off; Wally would stay behind her.
"Let's go home."
"Marry me?" Wally whispered before Arley turned. The Lanterns brows shot up.
"What?"
"When I come back, like legally Arley, marry me. I don't have a ring but I love you and I can't lose you again."
Arley almost wanted to laugh; him, loose her, he'd been the one to die but then Arley was struck over the head with the terrified look in Wally's eyes and her heart seized in her chest.
"Of course Wally," Arley swore. "When we get up top I'll marry you, whenever." She was already his; her body, her soul was tied to him— had been for centuries —she didn't need a legal document doing it as well but Wally wanted marriage and what could it hurt? Dressing up in white and down an isle for him.
"Okay," Wally grinned, he pressed a searingly hot kiss to Arley's lips and when they parted and Arley turned, her hands at her sides; she couldn't have her hand trailing behind her for Wally to hold onto she just had to trust him.
La, la, la, la.
They walked at a steady pace. The ground was so hard though and Wally so used to years of heroics, walked so softly, Arley could barley hear him behind her.
Why would I win? Out of all their past lives— a priestess, a king, a legendary knight —why would she win when she'd never done it before.
Arley paused mid-step. They weren't even at the base of the stairs.
She had never saved Wally before.
Orpheus had turned, Camelot had fallen, and Juliet had taken the dagger to her heart.
What made her special?
Arley surged forward.
La, la, la, la.
Wally had sworn to her that he would stay behind her; there was no reason doubt, not now especially. And yet as she took her first step up the staircase— that seemed to go on forever —all she wanted to do was look back and reassure herself.
But she couldn't. She had to hope.
La la la la.
Hope had never been something Arley had ever put much stock in. Willpower meant knowing you needed something done— wanting something done —and doing it. It meant gritting your teeth and perceiving because you knew you could accomplish your tasks. Hope didn't have that kind of certainty; hope was a belief and Arley seldom believed in anything.
The ring was the most powerful weapon in the universe. She had more blood on her hands than most empires had staining their ledgers; and Wally.
Arley had belief in Wally.
It was the only reason she didn't turn, even though every hair on the back of her neck stood up on its ends. Even though her gut churned; what if he wasn't there?
Because he had sworn to her he would be.
La la la la.
And Wally West didn't lie, not to her. So the Lantern continued onwards, she took one stair at a time— the whole time with the song of her past getting louder and louder in her head —and then two until she was racing up the stairs, reminding herself with every other cobblestone leap not to look back.
Because Wally was there.
La la la la la.
He had to be. He didn't lie.
But— Arley closed her eyes; they had to be close to the top; to the end —what if something had happened? What if the fates were playing a cruel trick on them?
What if— Arley's eyes opened and she could see a speckle of light; the top of the staircase —they were doomed?
Arley knew life was just one cruel joke after the other. What if this was karma? What if Wally had died and would be once more ripped from her because the fates had seen it fit to do so after what she'd had to do to become the Morningstar?
Arley pushed herself harder; faster.
La la la la.
Look back; behind you. He's not there.
He had to be.
The light got brighter. With every stair Arley took under her feet Arley could see the storeroom. Her face hardened in determination.
Willpower, Ganthet— one of the Guardians —had once said, Is hard to measure. Willpower is innate; you know you're willful because of the ring on your finger but Lantern you're here alive because your willpower is so palpable the universe bends to it.
And the universe would bend to hers; there was no try just do. The Gods and Fates would watch her bringing Wally into the light.
Arley threw herself through the doorway that led from the top of the stairs and back into the storeroom.
Her heart beat loudly in her ears; not loud enough though to drown out the sound of her lost song.
La la la la.
Arley turned. Wally's eyes widened.
La la la la.