Chapter Two — Homebound
1990 ; nine
"Death is a sword that knights the living."
It'd been eleven months since Arley had gotten the Green Lantern ring that she proudly wore on her right-middle finger; it'd been nine months since Hal Jordan— the guy she had been chosen to replace —had left for whatever long term, deep space mission the Guardians had assigned him and it had been five since she had passed through boot camp and made her debut as sector two-eight-one-fours newest Green Lantern.
Arley had been formally adopted since then; before he had left Hal had asked his girlfriend Carol Ferris— the youngest female CEO of a fortune five hundred company —for a favor.
He had asked Carol to take Arley in.
Hal hadn't thought that a fellow Lantern should live on the streets, scrounging around and stealing for their next meal or constantly fluttering between Oa and their sector just for a somewhat decent hot meal, because the cantina on Oa really didn't have any Earth foods for Arley or Hal; sure the cantina had various potato based dishes from around the galley and grilled cheese but that was about it.
And apparently Carol hadn't thought it befitting of a Lantern either because just as Hal had asked it of her the young woman had agreed.
Sure she had Arley do photoshoots and interviews but Arley knew that was because she was the first hero to catch the public's eye since the Justice Society in the forties which meant everyone on Earth wanted to know just about everything about her, and since Ferris Air's name was now linked with Arley's due to Carol taking her in Arley knew she owed those photoshoots and interviews to Carol, no matter how much she hated them.
Because Carol had been nice enough to give Arley a bedroom that was bigger than some of the apartments in Gotham's Bowery. The woman had bought Arley new clothes when she hadn't needed too and she made sure that— when Arley was home —Arley was well fed and some nights, when Carol managed to come home before three in the morning, and Arley was still awake and on-world the two of them would curl up on opposite ends of Carols large couch and watch one of the many VHS tapes Carol owned.
Carol hadn't needed to do any of that; past foster homes had shown Arley that much. But she had; Carol had gone above and beyond for Arley so Arley didn't care how much makeup people put on her for the camera so that she wouldn't wash out under the hot lights or if she was asked the same ten questions until the day she died.
Because no amount of television interviews or magazine photoshoots would repay Carol for everything— the room, the food, the clothes —she'd done for Arley.
As she flew through space, patrolling the sector, Arley couldn't help but smile at the memory of her and Carol's last impromptu movie night.
Carol had glowed in the television's light; she had been wearing sweatpants, not the expensive suits she always wore to the office— Carol had looked so much more human in that moment; like she wasn't an all-powerful CEO but rather just some lady that had been nice enough to open her home to Arley —as they had shared a bag of chips between themselves.
It had been nice. Domestic really.
Arley began to swerve through an asteroid field as she continued to think of how nice of a night it had been.
The night had ended around dawn when Arley had fallen asleep on the couch and though Carol didn't pick Arley up and carry her to bed— like Arley saw parents on television do to their on-screen children —Arley had awoken, still on the couch, to having been tucked in with the fuzzy throw blanket Carol kept on the couch.
Arley was pulled out of her thoughts when something heavy— someone heavy; it was feet, in the middle of her back —hit her from behind, pushing her down towards the closest asteroid. Arley didn't need to hear Kilowogs voice reverberating through her head to know that if whoever was attacking her managed to pin her down to the asteroid, she was as good as dead.
Throwing her weight to the side, and spinning through space, Arley jerked the weight that had been pushing down on her back off of her; a construct formed in Arley's hand.
A glowing green sword; the kind she saw in books about medieval times— Camelot and such —formed in the palm of her hand as she looked around in search of whomever had attacked her.
She found them quickly; it was more than easy to spot a bald, red-skinned alien in an asteroid field, especially when the uniform they were wearing was— much like Arley's was green —bright yellow.
A Sinestro Corps member.
Arley felt the grip she had on the hilt of her construct tighten.
Kilowog, her training officer and the Lantern who had taken her under his wing even after she had graduated from boot camp had told her all about the Sinestro Corps; he had told her all about Sinestro and how he— Thaal Sinestro —had been one of the Corps best before straying away from the light and going down the path of evil.
And all about how the members of the Sinestro Corps weren't like those in the Green Lantern; they weren't good, willful defenders of justice. Kilowog had told Arley about how, unlike their green power rings which were fueled by willpower, the Sinestro Corps power rings were fueled by fear and how all Sinestro Corps members were wanted criminals in some sector of space.
All of them already had blood on their hands before they'd been indicted into the Sinestro Corps.
Kilowog had also told her: "Now kid, when you're facin' one of these yellow Poozers I need you to understand, it's kill or be killed. They won't let you walk away just cause you're young. You're a Green Lantern and they'll kill you for that."
And at nine Arley was ready to die.
She was okay with it. She had been ready to die eleven months ago in that alleyway— though, no longer was it if she died in five years but rather when she died; before he had left Hal had made sure Arley understood that Lanterns had short lives, that she knew what she was getting herself into by accepting the ring and its duties —but just because she was ready to die didn't mean she wanted to. It didn't mean she was going to.
It didn't mean she was planning on it.
The red-skinned, Yellow Lantern had their back to an asteroid and as they formed a construct of their own Arley took a minute to analyze them.
They were young, older than her but not old enough to be considered an adult via human standards. They were— at least by human standards —a teenager at most; they were also male, or at least they were if Arley went off human standards. Over the past eleven months Arley had learned that different species evolved differently and that just because an alien presented male or female, that it didn't mean they were, as every culture across the universe had a different perception on gender.
The construct appeared in the Yellow Lanterns hand; it was a large golden, mile-long whip. Just as Arley's construct glowed green in the darkness of space, the Yellow Lanterns' construct glowed a bright golden yellow, it almost reminded Arley of the sun.
The Yellow Lantern raised his arm and though there was no wind in space— no air —as the enemy Lantern started to flourish their whip Arley could practically see the nonexistent air swirl around the whip; the Yellow Lantern reeled their hand back and just as their hand jerked forward, the whip's spiked tip quickly flew at Arley.
Arley flew to the right, out of whips' way.
The Yellow Lantern flourished the whip again and cracked it once more in Arley's direction, the whip had been cracked too far to the right. Though it missed Arley the whip did destroy the asteroid floating next to Arley. Dropping her construct and throwing her arms out in front of her so that she could protect her face from flying debris, Arley was pushed back by the force of the asteroid's destruction.
Arley's eyes had only just opened— her arms had only just gone out in front of her defensively —when she saw the Yellow Lantern's whip changed to a sword. The Lantern flew at Arley who's eyes had gone wide at the sight of the golden blade's point.
Her heart hammered in her ears; this was the alleyway all over again, only this time there would be no last minute miracles to save Arley. She was alone; all she had were her wits and her skill to rely on.
Everyone doubted her skill.
The newscasters and talk show hosts Carol had Arley talk too, the Generals and other government officials that always showed up at the house to analyze her and her power, and even the common, everyday people that littered the sector, they all doubted her because she was young or because she was a girl or because her skin was a little too brown for their liking or for a hundred other reasons.
Arley, thinking of the sword she'd only just had in her hands, flipped backwards through the air as the Yellow Lanterns blade slashed upwards. Turning the glowing green sword that had formed in her hands, the blade of Yellow Lanterns construct beat against the flat of Arley's, pushing her back.
The Yellow Lantern thrusted his blade at Arley and though Arley held her blade flat out in front of her— as the blades of their constructs met an eerie hollow screech echoed out into the vacuum of space —and the tip of the Yellow Lantern's sword, as it just missed Arley's head— Arley could feel the warmth radiating off the Yellow Lanterns construct —cut her cheek open, sending specks of blood flying through the asteroid field.
Arley, pushed off against the Yellow Lantern. She swung her sword out as she did so and met the flat of the yellow's construct. She grit her teeth and ignored the blood that dripped down her cheek. She couldn't focus on that now; she had to keep her head in the fight.
The Yellow Lantern gripped the hilt of their construct with one hand before twirling the weapon around them with an evil grin. Arley just gripped the hilt of her construct with both hands, tilting it forward, ready for any oncoming attack.
"You know," the Yellow Lantern sneered, "When I heard Hal Jordan got a replacement I expected-well, not you."
Arley's eyes narrowed at the insult.
"You know Hal?" Arley wondered; the ball that had formed in her throat bobbed up and down.
The alien in front of her was bald and barefaced, they weren't tall and lanky but rather short and broad; they weren't Sinestro, though that didn't mean much, Hal had been a Lantern for nearly seven years, he had to have made more enemies than just Sinestro.
"Do I know Hal Jordan? He ruined everything for me!" The alien snapped; "Hal Jordan let my father die, he took my father's ring-the ring that should have been mine and used it to tear my family apart!"
Arley's shoulders tensed at the aliens raised voice. Arley opened her mouth; she could have started with how just because his father had been a Lantern that didn't mean he was going to be one nor did that mean he deserved to be one, she could have also started with how she was sorry Hal had ruined his life but just because Hal had, killing her and being a Yellow didn't— wouldn't —make what had already been done right.
She could try to reason with him. She didn't. Instead, because she was nine and filled with what Killowog had called too much gumption , she asked, "So this makes you who?"
The alien's eyes narrowed at Arley, their top lip twitched up into a snarl. As if to say talking time was over. The alien flew at Arley, their sword drawn; Arley lunged at the alien and the two bounced away from one another when the blades of their constructs met.
Kilowog had been Arley's training officer on Oa but there had been other Lanterns throughout the past eleven months who had taught her things throughout her various trips to Oa.
Laira, the Lantern from sector one-one-two, had taught her the only people who let their enemies set the rules of battles were dead ones. Laira had also been the Lantern to teach Arley how to fight with weapons; swords and sai and even a chain-scythe, something Arley hadn't even known was a thing until Laira had used her ring to construct one.
Arley dove back at the alien only for her attack to be deflected and for her to bounce back, away from the alien. Arley forced herself forward and the alien swung their sword to beat off Arley. Arley flew higher and bared her sword down, the blade of her construct hit the blade of the Yellow Lanterns but due to her advantage point it simply pushed the Yellow Lantern down.
Arley stabbed her sword down, and though the blade hit the Yellow Lanterns shoulder— the Lantern let out a snarled shout from behind their gritted teeth —Arley felt something sharp hit— cut through —her side.
It was different than being hit; the pain only happened when the Yellow Lantern's blade had been ripped out of her side.
Arley's right hand pressed against the wound, thick, slimy liquid— her blood —spilled over her fingers. The hand Arley still had wrapped around the hilt of her sword shook; her construct shook in her hand.
The Yellow Lantern, with a bloody arm— the yellow of their uniform had become a dark, almost brown sort of color as it became sticky with their blood —passed their construct into their other hand and flew at Arley; Arley turned and flew away.
She needed a minute; she needed to get her bleeding under control and to collect herself. Arley's construct disappeared as she found herself behind an asteroid, her hand was pressed more firmly against her wound. Arley had been hit before; she'd been on the beat for five months, she had to have been hit at some point, but she'd never been stabbed.
Tears dotted the corners of her eyes as Arley forced herself to gulp down a breath of air before she held it so that she could control her erratically beating heart.
Arley, pushing down the part of her that wanted her mother; smothering it just as she smothered the icy fear that had quelled up inside of her, squeezed her eyes shut tightly and focused on the fact she was in a fight.
A battle. She was in a real and actual battle; this wasn't some back alley brawl but something else. Something far more dangerous than the looming threat of bruised ribs and a black eye.
Fear gripped at Arley's heart; she was nine and scared but she was a Green Lantern, and Lanterns — Arley reminded herself — don't get scared.
They conquered fear.
Arley reminded herself that she wasn't some kid who had found a semi-automatic in the sewer grate and decided to become some cowboy vigilante, no matter what people and aliens alike thought she wasn't the same street kid she'd been eleven months ago.
She'd been chosen and trained by the best of the Green Lantern Corps.
And being a Lantern meant protecting her sector from criminals and villains because the people of her sector depended on her to do so. If she failed, they could get hurt— they could die —and that would be on her.
Arley knew she couldn't fail. She had to prove she was worthy of her ring— of the family and home Ganthet had promised her in return for her service —to prove everyone who doubted her was wrong.
Arley peaked around the corner of the asteroid and saw the Yellow Lantern with their construct hanging limply in their hand. They'd given up on putting pressure on their wound; the blood that had trickled down their arm and down their red hand and off into space was dark against their uniform.
Arley needed to end the fight. The thought though, of ending the fight— of what it meant to end the fight —made the Green Lantern pause. Kilowog's Kill or be killed reverberated in Arley's skull.
Arley was okay with dying— she'd already made her peace with it —but the thought of taking someone else's life made the young Lantern want to heave up her lunch.
She didn't want to. But she had to. It was kill or be killed; and yet that fact didn't make it better. It still made Arley's stomach twist violently; she still didn't want to do it.
Killing someone— even a Yellow Lantern who she was actively engaged in a battle with —was different then stealing someone's wallet or purse. And yet again, it wasn't; Arley had stolen wallets and money clips to survive, if she was going to survive she was going to have to kill.
She squeezed her eyes tight.
The Yellow Lantern didn't care if she was nine; it was kill or be killed.
She had too. Arley knew she did.
But knowing that she had to, didn't make the fact she needed to any easier to stomach. But it needed to; she couldn't fail least someone else be put into this very same situation.
Just like in the alleyway where Arley had thought of the man she had saved and his daughter Arley thought of the faceless being that would be in her place if she failed.
If she was weak someone else could— would —die.
Swallowing the tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes and forcing the overwhelming emotions threatening to take over, down, until it was locked tightly away, Arley's fingers curled into a fist.
Yellow Lantern rings ran on fear, only people— aliens —with blood already on their hands became Yellow Lanterns.
It was kill or be killed, and Arley was a Green Lantern, protector of sector two-eight-one-four meaning she had to do the right thing by those she was charged with protecting. She had to protect them by any means necessary; even if those means made her sick to her stomach.
It was her duty. Her responsibility. She had to do it.
But god she didn't want to.
Ignoring that— ignoring that she didn't want to kill her enemy —because what she wanted or didn't want didn't matter anymore; she was a Green Lantern and all that mattered was her duty. She'd agreed to that when she had accepted the ring.
Back then it hadn't seemed so real; fighting— dying — those were things Arley could see. Killing had never been something Arley had imagined herself doing, but nonetheless— as she sucked a deep breath in through her nose and clamped down on her quivering nerves —Arley pointed her ring at one of the moving asteroids nearest to the Yellow Lantern and fired.
Asteroid debris and dust billowed around the Yellow Lantern, Arley blew a second and then a third asteroid up leaving the two of them to be surrounded by a dark thick cloud.
Arley used the dust clouds cover to fly up, high over the cloud and onto another large asteroid. The alien she had been fighting changed their sword to a fan so that they could blow the dust that had engulfed them away.
The aliens red-skinned swiveled from side to side as they looked for Arley and then, as the fan the Yellow Lantern had constructed turned back into a sword, Arley, still weaponless, pushed herself off from the asteroid and barreled down at the Yellow Lantern.
She had a job to do.
The Yellow Lantern's head snapped up and with their sword drawn forward, they flew up at Arley. Arley thought of a sword— the kind she had, had before; large and sharp, it's hilt made just for her hand —as she got closer to the Yellow Lantern.
Arley didn't breathe. Her tongue caught itself between her teeth.
Her heels were clicked together and her left hand was tucked behind her back as the arm that held the blade was drawn forward.
Kill or be killed .
Arley, as the Yellow Lantern swung their sword wide, thrusted her blade down, under the Yellow Lanterns. She thought of a second sword, thinner and easier to wield with only one hand— she willed her ring to expand the construct in her hand so that the second sword would form in the hand she had tucked behind her back —and just as the Yellow Lanterns blade inched forward, only a hair's breadth away from her throat, Arley spun.
Brandishing the second, thinner sword she had willed into existence and using that to block the Yellow Lanterns attack, the Yellow Lanterns sword skimmed the sharp of Arley's new blade. The Yellow Lanterns blade slipped from his hand. The construct dematerizled in the air as the Yellow Lanterns eyes widened; Arley didn't hesitate before swinging the thinner of her two swords down, slicing the alien across the chest.
Dark, nearly black, blood spurted forth, covering Arley's uniform. The alien let out a wheezy sort of breath. Not breathing herself— not thinking, simply just acting; kill or be killed —Arley swung the larger of her two swords across the aliens shoulders, separating the aliens head from their neck.
Arley felt bile quell up in her throat as the aliens head separated from their body. The swords that had been in her hands vanished; constructs took concentration and all Arley could think about was the alien in front of her.
The dead alien. The alien she had killed.
Kill or be killed.
And she had killed.
Blood continued to leak out from the alien's body; the alien's eyes were wide open. Blown up in surprise; their mouth had been twisted in agony and though the muscles in the alien's face relaxed slowly, Arley found herself unable to look away from what she'd done until the alien's eyelids had dropped.
Arley's own mouth dropped open; no sound came out though. The yellow ring slid off the aliens finger; Arley, unable to move, followed the ring with her eyes. Arley told herself to catch the ring as it slipped off the aliens finger, that she had to bring it back to Oa but she didn't; she couldn't.
Moving felt impossible so instead she watched as the ring darted out into the universe leaving a bright yellow contrail in its wake.
When the ring was no more than a speck in the distance Arley's gaze flickered back to the aliens body. It was an odd thing to take note of but Arley couldn't help it; the alien had been wearing nice clothing.
Slowly and unmeaning too— Arley hadn't even realized she was raising her hand until her fingertips were in her frame of sight —Arley reached her hand out to touch the body; to grab the head— to feel the warmth still coming off the aliens bloody corps —only to reel her hand back when she saw her white glove covered in black blood.
Purple ; Arley corrected herself, the blood wasn't black it was a dark, dark purple. A near black but not actually black. There was red there too; dark, dark red. Her blood. She was bleeding. She'd been hurt.
Stabbed, Arley had been stabbed.
Arley had to go.
She didn't want to though; how could she? She didn't know this aliens name, or where they came from; how could she leave them floating out in space— Yellow Lantern or not —when they could have a family wondering where they were.
She had to go.
Arley found herself backing away from the Yellow Lanterns corpse; she had to go. Just as she had forced herself to steal eleven months ago, just as she had forced herself to kill the aliens in front of her, Arley forced herself to turn and fly back to Earth.
To California; she had to get back to California.
Arley knew she couldn't go to a hospital, not when people were oh so ready to tell her they told her so, she was too young— too incapable —of being their protector but if she got to Coast City she could hide in the bathroom attached to her bedroom and inspect her wound. She could call Kilowog with her ring and ask for guidance on how to fix herself up.
Her ring would heal her but Arley had to stop the bleeding.
Slowly Arley felt a weight being pressed against her, she felt herself being dragged underwater. It felt a lot like the dragging sensation one might feel when the ocean's water receded and the sand they'd buried their toes in rushed around their feet as it was pulled back into the water's depts.
Arley tried to breath through the weight; she tried to shrug it off only for pain to rock through her body. It wasn't like the pain she had felt when the alien had first stabbed her; that had felt like a sharp punch to the gut; this felt like needles being jabbed into her side.
Arley could see the Earth in the distance; see the glow of the atmosphere.
She pushed herself forward, urged— willed —herself to go faster. And she did; as her vision doubled and she quickly entered the Earth's atmosphere, Arley found it hard to keep her eyes open.
She had to get back to California.
…
Arley felt sick, as she flew over palm trees.
Her hands were shaking and as darkness continued to encroach upon her, from the corners of her vision, all Arley could find herself seeing was the alien's decapitated head.
Arley stumbled as she landed on shaky legs outside of the home she shared with Carol Ferris. With blood leaking through her uniform and onto her hands Arley trudged forward.
She ignored the burning sensation that ripped through her with every step. Blood stained the door handle as Arley shouldered her way to the house, not bothering to unlock it but instead using her ring to push open the door.
The last thing Arley remembered before darkness overtook her was not only the sound of her body hitting the wood flooring but her own thoughts as she tried not to observe just how much everything hurt.
I hope Carol's not mad, I'm making a total mess.
…
Someone's hands were on her wound. Someone was muttering; Arley's eyes cracked open.
A woman. There was a woman above her. Arley couldn't tell who though.
"Hang on," the lady said, they sounded as if they were underwater. "I'll call for help. I promise everything will be okay, we'll get you to a hospital!"
Arley clumsily batted their hand away.
"No," Arley grounded out.
People already didn't trust her to save them; even on other planets out there— the alien ones that littered the sector —aliens paused when they saw her. The news on Earth like to say she was too young, the UN's governments liked to say she was a dangerous liability; the only people that ever seemed to trust her capabilities were the people Arley had saved, and that was always after she had saved them.
No one ever gave her the benefit of the doubt. No one but Carol and the Guardians who bestowed her the ring. They trusted her to do her job and if she needed a hospital they never would again.
"No hospital," she told the person; she pressed her own hand against her wound and sucked in a sharp breath as she focused on her suit reknitting itself over the wound, putting pressure on it.
She could remember being told pressure on a bleeding wound was important.
"'M ring will heal," Arley added. "'M fine."
Her eyes shut.
This wasn't the end; people always said— the others in boot camp had always said —dying didn't hurt, that the only time to worry was when the pain went away. Arley felt nothing but pain. She was safe.
As Arley felt herself lose consciousness once more, she felt the someone who had been hovering above her slip their arms underneath her, picking her up.
Whatever they placed her on a moment later was soft.
Arley tried to fight against the waves of pain pulling her under into the darkness that was unconsciousness, only to finally pass out as the person who had picked her up off the floor begged her to, "Just hold on!"
…
Arley woke up to darkness and for a second she wondered if she was dead. Only for— as she moved to sit more upright —for pain to rock through her and for that thought to be quickly dashed.
No one knew what happened after you died but Arley assumed the pain someone had been experiencing pre-death to go away once they were in the afterlife.
Arley blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. Slowly she realized she was in the living room of the house she shared with Carol; stretched out on the couch with a mountain of bloody gauzes piled high onto where she had been stabbed.
Carol, asleep, was curled up on the loveseat adjacent to the couch. Arley moved despite the pain that still echoed through her abdomen, slowly the younger Lantern found herself sitting up against the pillows that had been propped up behind her only to pause when the moonlight streaming through the window caught the hand that was outstretched in Carol's direction.
The blood had dried but it was there; dark purple and dark red covered her white glove.
Blood; her blood, the aliens blood.
She was covered in it.
Arley wanted to scream and scream and scream until she woke up from the nightmare she was in. She'd killed someone. A Yellow Lantern.
She'd had too.
Arley, with her heart in her throat, dropped her uniform, leaving her— still —in the pile of gauze that had been taped to her body and the jeans and long sleeve shirt Carol had bought her months before.
Apparently the clothing she had before the streets weren't befitting of a hero; even if the only thing wrong with them was the fact they were hand-me-downs.
But the clothing Carol had bought her, just like her uniform, was bloodstained. Only the blood on her was dark red; the blood on her was her own.
Somehow that made the girl feel better.
Arley held her hand up close to her face. She didn't breathe; the air had seemingly caught itself in her tightened throat.
There was no blood on her hand. The purple that had been on her glove wasn't on her hand.
Arley's bottom lip wobbled.
It's kill or be killed out there kid.
Carol made a sound as she shifted in her seat. The youngest female CEO to ever be on Forbes Five hundred list slowly cracked open her eyes; Arley saw the panic come alight in Carol's eyes the longer Carol looked at her.
It's kill or be killed.
And Arley had killed. The girl felt her eyes drop to the carpeted floor below her.
"You're alive!" Carol scrambled off the seat she'd only just been asleep in, as she pushed herself off the leather loveseat and onto the floor in front of Arley the CEO clapped loudly.
The living room lights came alive around them; lighting up the room. With her eyes still locked on the floor Arley found her attention locked onto the carpet.
It was tan and despite its light color and the fact it was a year or two old had looked brand new. At least it had before Arley had ruined it with her blood.
The dark red stain on the carpet wasn't large, and yet, Arley's heart was in her throat.
She had ruined Carol's carpet.
She'd killed someone .
Arley didn't want to look down and see what she had done to Carol's nice sofa.
"Oh thank God you're alive!" Carol breathed, her hands hovered over Arley's body. She looked unsure of what to do; despite the pain that came with the action, Arley threw her legs off the couch.
She grabbed Carol's hand in hers and hazel eyes met brown.
"I'm sorry," Arley said softly.
"You better be!" Carol snapped, her face hardened into a deep, creasing frown. "You scared the shit out of me Arley! Why the hell did you come here if you were bleeding! What if my dinner meeting didn't cancel, you could have died!"
Arley blinked.
She had ruined Carol's carpet and rug and probably the wood by the front door.
She'd killed someone only hours ago.
"You were worried about me?"
Carol froze, her hands, which she had pulled from Arley's grasp so that she could continue to hover, shook.
Something— some emotion; dark and sad and reminiscent —passed through Carol Ferris's dark eyes.
"Of course I was worried about you Arley," Carol said, she licked her lips and her hands pressed themselves flat against her stomach. "Hal asked me to look after you."
"Hal knows I'm a Lantern."
Carol's face twisted at that. Her lips puckered for a moment.
"Right and Lanterns the job—"
"—Is dangerous," Arley finished.
"Yeah," Carol nodded, "Hal's said that a couple of times. I-I guess didn't realize when you took over for Hal that it meant the guys in charge would be giving you everything that came with Hal's job. Danger included."
Arley's brows knitted together, her head cocked to the side. Why wouldn't Carol assume she'd be a fully venerated Lantern? Hal had been sent off on a long-term mission in frontier space; he was to be gone for years and that meant someone— that she —had to step up to the plate and keep the home front safe.
Did Carol not think she was worthy of the ring?
It was quiet for a moment. Neither Carol or Arley spoke for the longest of times; A weight settled itself in Arley's gut as she watched as Carol's face twisted with the same dark emotions that had flashed over her eyes.
Guilt weighed on her. Bore down onto Arley, settling on her chest heavy and unbearable.
"You said your ring would heal you," Carol said. "Hal always said the ring spread up healing-I watched his broken arm set and be fixed over the course of a weekend once." Carol looked up at Arley, there was a guarded look in the CEO's eyes, one that made Arley's heart clench.
Arley knew it, she had let Carol down.
"You're okay?"
Arley nodded despite the pain she was in. The lump in her throat hauled her from speaking.
"Okay," Carol said quietly. "Go-go take a bath. I'll order us some dinner in the meantime. I'll check in on you, okay?"
Once more Arley nodded. She stood and pain like she had never felt before rocked through her. Nonetheless, she, with downcast eyes, walked out of the living room only to pause for a moment at the mouth of the room.
Carol had stayed kneeling in front of the ruined couch, on the ruined rug.
She looked as small as Arley felt.
A sob rippled through Arley's chest.
She had killed someone. The alien had been a Yellow— a monster —and she'd done the right thing taking him out. Doing her job.
But right wasn't always good though; doing what was right meant doing what you had to; it was doing what was necessary, even if that thing wasn't what you wanted or what was necessarily good.
Arley had done what was right and she felt horrible for it; she felt like there was a layer of dirt on her skin that would stain her for as long as she lived.
She had ruined Carol's thing's; she'd let the woman down. Arley knew she had; she'd had to. It was the only reason Carol would look at her like that.
Arley turned and walked up the staircase to the room Carol had given her months ago; it was large. The walls were pink, the floor was white-the carpet was a pristine white but the room as a whole was bare.
There was a bed and dresser and closet filled with the newest fashion but there were no pictures or knick knacks littered about. There were no toys either; there was a radio though. On the desk in the corner of the room next to the stack of comics she kept for when she couldn't sleep and coursework she had to complete in the upcoming months thanks to a deal Carol had worked out with the state.
For the rest of what would be her academic career Arley would take tests every three months. The tests were on stuff she would have learned— should have learned —over those three months from the workbook the state had given her. That way she wouldn't have to worry about being a hero— what was happening on what was supposed to be her watch —while in school.
The comics Arley kept next to her coursework were the only comics Arley would read; they were the Justice Guild ones.
The Justice Guild was based on the Justice Society and the missions they'd had throughout the course of their lives a. The Justice Society had been some of the world's first superheroes. They'd been a group of internal heroes that had formed before the first World War. They had died in battle sometime before the second World War but before their fall they had been renound; they'd been great.
They were everything Arley aspired to be.
Arley walked into the attached bathroom and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was matted with blood; there was blood on her face and drenching her shirt and soaking the gauze Carol had piled high on top of her.
There was so much blood.
And why wouldn't there be? Arley had killed someone. Perhaps in self defense, perhaps in the line of duty but she had killed.
Arley nodded to herself in the mirror. Her fingers had curled up into a tightly fisted balls at her sides; she bit back the scream that wanted to break through her throat, held back and blinked away the tears that continuously gathered in her eyes until they were gone and she was left with a burning face and tense-leaden weight in her chest.
She was a Green Lantern, it was her job to do right by the people of her sector. Even doing right by them meant doing things she didn't want to. Because her duty came first, her job came first; the people she had to protect came first, before her safety, before her emotions.
Before herself, she knew that when she took the job to escape from the streets. She knew to keep the bed she had now and the food she had in her stomach she was expected to do her job.
Even if it killed her to do so.
Slowly Arley turned away from her reflection; her stomach churned as she did so half wondering if her parents would love her.
Arley wondered as she readied herself for her shower, if her mother woke up the next day and Arley told her everything she had done, would her mother still love her?
Or would she turn away from Arley? Would the woman hate her?
Arley flinched at the loud, resounding Yes that echoed from the back of her mind.
Because Arley knew she hated herself. Arley knew she deserved to. She had killed someone, Yellow or not she had blood on her hands.
Duty or not; she had killed.
…
It'd been two days since Arley had fought the Yellow Lantern as according to the Guardians the alien she had fought— had killed —was Amon Sir, Abin Sur's son and Sinestro's very own nephew.
Amon had been a young man. A teenager really, not much older than her.
There were— a seldom number of —Lanterns in the Corps who had known him since infancy; who had watched him grow up. And Arley had killed him; she'd had too.
It was kill or be killed.
The Guardians— though berated her for not managing to catch Amon Sir's yellow power ring and allowing it to find its next barer —had congratulated her on her victory.
Their congratulations didn't make the weight that sat on her chest any lighter. It didn't make sleeping any easier.
For the past two days every time she closed her eyes Arley had seen Amon Sir's floating head and blood soaked body. Arley had taken a dozen showers and still there were times she swore she felt his blood caked into her hair.
She'd left his body behind two days ago and yet every time she looked in the mirror Arley saw Amon Sir's floating bloody staring back at her; haunting her.
Arley doubted there would ever be a time where she wouldn't see Amon Sir. Just like the blood that flowed through her viens the blood that now covered Arleys hand was part of her, something she knew she'd never be able to leave behind.
It wasn't like it was undeserved. The only two choices had been kill or be killed and she had killed.