Chapter Six — Bury a Friend

1994 ; thirteen

"There is something in your throat that wants to get out and you won't let it."

Arkkis Chummuck— the Green Lantern from sector three-zero-one-four —was dead; he'd died in the line of duty— fighting —the way most Lanterns did.

Arkkis wasn't the first Lantern to have died since Arley had gotten her ring— he wasn't the second or third or even tenth; there was a reason people put a Lantern's life expectancy at no more than five years after they got their ring —but he was the first she knew.

Truly knew that was; Arley had met the other Lanterns who'd died, at least in passing— the Corps were only so big, after all, there were only so many Lanterns —but Arkkis was someone Arley knew.

Had known.

Arkkis had been there when Arley had shown up on Oa, he'd known Hal and was a good friend to Kilowog; she and the hairy, almost wolf-like alien had even fought side by side when a criminal from his sector had made their way into hers.

He was a good person— an even better Lantern —and someone Arley would miss dearly.

It was why, just a few days shy of her thirteenth birthday, Arley found herself below the city of Oa, shoulder to shoulder in a sea of Lanterns as they all crowded around the crystal memorial hall that lay beneath the city.

Morro, the Corps crypt keepers, pets— small, well trained dragon-like alien's Morro called dreature's —flew above the sea of green. Statues of fallen Lanterns that had been immortalized for their deeds, glowed from their places along the wall, and the Guardians who had come to speak for Arkkis Chummuck held their heads high as they welcomed Thormon Tox— the Lantern who had been there with Arkkis, who had brought his body back even after it was too late —to the glowing green podium Morro had constructed.

Behind him, next to Kilowog was the newest Lantern; the one who's Arkkis' ring had gone too after he'd died. Barreer Wot.

"I—" Thromon Tox paused, as he looked to Gurdian Dennap, "—Thank you sir." Thormon turned to the sea of Lanterns, his fingers curled around the edges of the podium. From her spot in the crowd Arley could see the unshed tears in Thormon Tox's eyes.

"Arkkis is-was a good man, an honorable man. We became Lanterns around the same time, the two of us went through basic together. We got our symbols the same day. He was the brother I never thought I'd have," Tox said softly. He stood there quietly for a moment, his head bobbed forward and then back with his chin tilted up.

"I'm going to miss him," Tox said heavily before he let out a sad sounding wet laugh, "I had a whole speech planned but none of it seems to matter now. Telling you about the time he dropped everything to rush to my sector, four hundred sectors away, because my sister and niece had both been injured and I needed someone there with me, won't bring him back. Nothing is going to." Tox shuddered at the glowing green podium and Kilowog moved from the newest White Circles side to Tox's.

"Arkkis is gone, and it's my fault. He died saving me because that's the kind of Lantern-the kind of man he was. He was one of the best of us and he's gone," Tox hissed as Kilowog placed his hand on the alien's shoulder, turning him from the crowd and to his broad chest.

Arley could see Tox's shoulders shake against Kilowog and as she felt a large balloon swelling in her own throat Arley tipped her own chin up as her fingers tightened at her sides.

Arkkis Chummick was dead and gone and he was never coming back; and they would all have to live with that.

…

A few hours later, with a heavy weight in her chest and a silence settled over Oa like a weighted blanket, Arley found herself in the Hazard Simulation Hall working on one of the heavy bags that hung in the corner of the room, away from the sparring ring and training course.

Right, left, elbow, elbow.

After Kilowog had ushered Thormon Tox away the Bolvaxian had taken his place in front of the grieving crowd, Kilowog had said how Arkkis was honorable, how he was just and right; Thormon had said how he was good— one of the best —and Arley couldn't help but wonder, what would be said at her memorial.

Lanterns didn't live long lives and as good as she was, Arley knew she wasn't half the Lantern Arkkis had been or that Kilowog was; Arley knew she could only ever dream to be the kind of Lantern Hal was. She knew that her time was running out.

Would Kilowog say how she was good too? Would he say how she did what was needed of her and what was necessary, even if it wasn't the good choice or would he say she was a kid too far over her head and far too reckless to have ever been given a ring?

Would the Guardians say how they were proud of her like they had of Arkkis or would they call her a mistake and bury their failure with her?

Elbow, elbow, left, right.

What would be said about her back on Earth? Would people say they were right, that a child was never worthy of the ring— of the responsibility —or would they look to whatever casket they had laid out for her and thank her for her service?

Would Carol make her funeral? The woman had been so caught up with work lately— the less Hal called the more time Carol seemed to spend at work; at this point the CEO had all but moved into her Coast City office leaving Arley to haunt her mansion when she was Earth-bound —so would she prioritize work and push Arley to the back of her mind as she focused on quarterly's and mergers or would she openly and publicly grieve?

Uppercut, uppercut, elbow, elbow.

There had been so many Lanterns at Arkkis Chummuck's memorial— his funeral; Arkkis hadn't had a family back on his home planet so he had been buried in the crypt —Arley wondered what her fathers funeral had been like.

Alfie Gluck had been eighteen and an immigrant trying to provide for his new and growing family when he had been mugged on the street. Her mother an immigrant as well; neither of her parents had had much— if any —money to their names.

Funerals were expensive; her father was probably in Potters Field, in some pine box with a number marked down in sharpey so the convicts who buried him would put him in the right place.

Hook, hook, right, left, elbow, elbow.

Why had she never checked? What kind of daughter did that make her? What kind of person?

With a frown Arley threw her weight into her next punch; she knew the kind of person she was. It kept her up at night.

Uppercut, uppercut, elbow, elbow, uppercut.

Would she be buried on Oa or Earth?

Oa was her home— her first real home with her first real family and first real bed —and she wouldn't mind being placed in the green crystal crypt beneath the city, forever entombed and a part of the Corps, but another part of her wouldn't mind being somewhere people could visit her.

While he remembered her Arley knew K would, Clark and Bruce and Dickie all would too.

Carol would as well, Arley resolved.

Sure Carol was busy with work, she was the youngest female CEO of a fortune five hundred company, of course she was busy so while she probably wouldn't visit as often as Arley would like she would still visit.

Carol was nice like that, like K and Clark and Bruce and Dick.

Hook, hook, hook, hook.

What would happen to her grave when it was forgotten about though? When everyone went on with their lives and she was nothing more than worm food in the ground?

Hook, uppercut, elbow, elbow.

Would her mother miss her? Would the comatose woman even realize she was gone? How long would it take for people to move on? Would it take Carol months? Would it take Dick years? Or would they raise a glass to her on New Years and pack her away with the holiday decorations?

Dying was one thing; Arley could handle death, she was ready to die. But what came after, the uncertainty of the afterlife, the fact that those she loved may not care about her as much as she cared about them frightened her.

Arley began to pivot her hips so that she could kick the bag she was working on, only to spin when she felt a hand on her shoulder, her fist flew through the air on instinct— she was on Oa, she was safe but someone had touched her and her only thought had been I'm going to die —only for her legs to be swept out from under her and for a hand to dart out and grab a fistful of the front of her uniform.

Laira Omoto, the red headed Lantern from sector zero-one-one-two and the Lantern who had helped train Arley after she had passed through boot camp. She was one of the best there was; Laira was the kind of Lantern Arley hoped she could be before her time was up.

Strong, willful, dependable. The kind of Lantern others looked to; worthy of her ring.

"Hi," Arley said, her hands wrapped around the alien's wrist and forearm as her feet steadied themselves underneath herself, "Sorry."

"You're usually not this jumpy," Laria said as she let the preteen Lantern go.

"Yeah well it's one of those days." Every Lantern had those days; with everything they saw— everything they did —they couldn't not have days where the universe felt too small and everything felt too hot and all eyes felt they were watching, waiting.

Sometimes those days bled into nights; it was why at eleven— only a few days shy of twelve —Arley had dark rings under her eyes.

"One of our own has fallen, everyone is having that day," Laira said and when Arley simply blinked at the taller, alien Lantern, Laira nodded into the air before jerking her head towards the ring, "Spar with me."

It wasn't a request so Arley shrugged and took and followed Laira into one of the empty rings. To their right Bloobert Cobb and Ch'p were fighting— every time Ch'p dive bombed Bloobert the pale, almost sickly looking alien would bat the squirrel away —while to the left Graf Toren and Aegel were locked together, both trying to wrestle the other to the ground.

Laira stood on one end of the ring, her hands up in front of herself and one of her legs pushed backwards while Arley, on the other side, balled her fists together and held them chin level. Technically she was supposed to hold them nose height so that she could block her face but Arley could take a hit.

The pair waited a moment to see who would move first only for Laira to quickly get tired of the standstill. Laira's fist shot out and Arley bobbed; the younger Lantern weaved as Laira's other tightly closed fist shot out and though Arley threw her elbow out to block the on coming blows there was no internal chastising that came when Laira knuckles hit her cheekbone.

"This is supposed to be spar Arley," Laria said as she caught Arley's chin with her fist, "Hit back or tap out."

But she didn't want to do either of those things. Truthfully, a sick, twisted part of her— that she would never admit to having —liked being hit.

There was something inside of her that sparked to life when she was in a fight— when the adrenaline flooded her system and every hair on the back of her neck stood up on its own —and her head would bob back.

The only time Arley felt alive anymore was when her body ached from a fight; when her head swam and everything hurt just a little too much for it to be a fever dream, meaning in the ring— where Arley didn't have to worry about death because there was no real risk for it —Arley could breathe easier.

Still, Arley knew Laira and she knew the red headed alien would call off the spar if she'd didn't fight back so the next time Laira's first shot out and Arley batted it away the younger of the two's own fist shot out and hit the alien female in the ribs.

Laira flashed Arley a sly smile as Arley's fist struck out again; this time Laira blocked the hit.

Laria took two steps back before she kicked her leg out wide; catching the kick aimed to her ribs and locking it between her chest and arm Arley went to spin only for Laira to lock her leg and quickly slide out of her hold.

Going low for her own attack, Arley lunged at Laria, only for the redheaded Lantern to catch her, Laira's hands were on her tiny hips, trying to push her down while Arley's were latched onto the older Lantern's thighs as she tried to take her down.

Laira's knee shot up— hard but not as hard as the redheaded Lantern could do —and hit Arley in the stomach; the preteen faltered and hit the ground below them with a whoosh as the air escaped her lungs.

Arley didn't need to see Laira's foot bearing down on her back to know it was coming so she waited until the last possible second before rolling out of the way, her legs kicking up and locking behind Laira's. One of her heels hit the back of Laira's knee while the other swept the foot Laira had tried to bring down on top of her.

Laira's back barely touched the floor before she bridged herself backwards and cartwheeled back onto her feet; Arley, from her spot on the ground huffed, her head hung and several strands of dark hair hung in front of her face.

If it hadn't been one of those days and Arley and Laira had been smiling, Arley would have joked about how the bridge was unfair and how she should have won before Laira would have pointed out their enemies would never fight fair.

But it was one of those days, Arkkis was dead.

"To your feet come on," Laria instructed, "Again."

And so, without any complaint because there was an almost painful itch under her skin, waiting with a baited breath to get hit— to breath, to feel alive, to be okay in someway or another because she wasn't and would never be and there was only so much screaming someone could do in the vacuum of space —Arley got to her feet.

…

Oa was the only city on the planet; the rest of it was an uninhabitable desert. As Arley trailed along the city outskirts, her chin and jaw protesting every time she moved her mouth, her feet skimmed along the sand that had been kicked up onto the concrete platform the city had been built from.

Arley's body ached; it told her that she was alive but the hairs that had stood up on the back of her neck had died down and the feeling that told her that she was living— that allowed her to suck down full breaths of air —had stopped. It had died.

Arley should have died several times over; the girl knew this. She bore the scars. Her hazel eyes turned upwards from the sandy concrete and looked towards the setting sun in the distance, the sky had become a brightly burnt orange and the stars had only just started to peak out.

Arley— as her thoughts turned away from how she should be dead and in the ground; how she wasn't sure if it was luck or skill or fate that had kept her alive —wondered which star was Earth. She wondered if any of them were stars from her sector.

Oa after all, was in the center of the universe.

Her hands were buried deep into her pockets.

She was so small. Everything was so small. Nothing mattered and yet everything did at the same time. Maybe one small act of kindness wouldn't matter in ten thousand years or maybe it would; maybe no one would remember her after she had died or maybe everyone would.

Arley's hands fell out of her pockets and she eyed her ring. Her weapon; it was as much a part of her as her kidney. Sure she could live without it but truth was, just like her kidney, Arley couldn't imagine living without the ring. She couldn't imagine living without the Corps.

Because at the end of the day, they were the only people who wouldn't run from her. Maybe K wouldn't; he was a government spook after all but as Arley stood on the edge of the city she doubted it.

Agent K was kind.

Carol and Clark— the Kents —Bruce and Dick, they would all run from her when they found out she was no different than the average G.I that came home after a tour; their illusions of her would crumble and they wouldn't want her around anymore then she wanted herself around some days because they were all good people.

After almost four years everyone had started to ask her if being a Lantern was something she was considering doing long term; they asked it like there was anything else she could do.

Arley eyed her ring. Her ring was all she was, the Corps was all she was; people on Earth talked about her like a hero but what was she without the Corps? The ring?

The ring.

The rings had universal translators in them; no matter what language in the universe Arley heard, as long as her ring was on and charged she would be able to understand the speaker. There was a Portuguese word, saudade , which meant missing something you had never had.

And while Arley looped the city in a slow walk, feeling a profound emptiness inside of her. She knew she was missing something— that something inside of her craved something —only to not know what that something was.

…

Every Lantern had a small, matchbox-sized apartment; there were six to a sector and all of them looked about the same. The apartments were there for Lanterns who needed them, whether it was because their assignments were on Oa and it was just easier for them to live in the Guardian city then to travel between their home planet and their sector, or because they couldn't go back to their home planet for one reason or another.

Arley had an apartment; despite the fact she'd been eight when she passed through boot camp she was still a Green Lantern. Though unlike some other Lanterns apartments hers was bland. There weren't pictures hanging up on the wall or mementos littering the place, making it her own; there were however, magnets cluttering the tiny fridge and a thick blanket Clarks mother had given her draped along the couch.

Martha and John Kent were kind; Arley had gotten to know the pair over the year, Martha kept Arley's favorite snacks in the cupboards for whenever she'd come over and John always picked her for Pictionary when she'd tag along with Clark for game night.

With her hair dripping from the shower she'd taken— though her knuckles throbbed and though every time she flexed her hand ached, Arley couldn't help but continue to wiggle her fingers —Arley eyed the coursework that was piled on the metal coffee table.

What was the point in coursework when it wouldn't matter in the long run.

Turning away from her coursework and to the fridge; there wasn't anything perishable in there but there were canned peaches and milky way bars and other small snacks Arley had brought from Earth.

She could— after a large plate of food had been laid out in front of her and she had picked it clean; and sometimes at night when hunger started to roll over her —remember the streets. Hunger pains she felt and the taste of the food she'd find; half eaten sandwiches and bits of candy bars.

Would people talk about what she had done when she was dead? Not as a Lantern but before; the thieving? No one had said anything bad at Arkkis' memorial; for all the Lanterns that had stepped up to the podium, none of them had spoken an ill-intended word about the hairy Lantern but Arley wasn't Arkkis.

Arkkis was dead and she wasn't.

Pushing those thoughts away— what good was she if she wallowed; she was alive and breathing, she had work to do —Arley grabbed a milky way bar from the fridge and tore it open far more harshly then she should have.

If she was loud enough— if she was rough enough in her movements; if she hurt enough so that all she could think about was her throbbing and aching —then her concentration would laps and her thoughts would be broken and the dark thoughts that had wrapped around her like a blanket would— at least for the moment —be thrown off.

Biting into the candy bar Arley spun in her heel with a chest full of air— that hurt to suck in; Laira had bruised her ribs, not that she cared, there was something almost additive about the burn —prepared to do the stack of coursework that was due in two months when she took her test, only to pause mid step when a knock echoed through her apartment.

Silently Arley made her way to the door; taking another bite of the candy bar— she was on Oa, Arley reminded herself she was safe, she was Oa —Arley didn't bother to ask who was on the other side of the door before she threw it open.

Kilowog, with his large hands hung behind his back and a sad, soft smile that Arley only ever saw once in a while— on the days Lanterns Kilowog had trained and known were buried —hanging on his face.

Using the back of her hand and half of the top part of her wrist Arley's arm swept across her mouth as she swallowed the partly chewed chunk of candy bar.

"Hi," she said softly, it wasn't the quiet tone she had used when she'd spoken to Laira, this tone was tight, there was a slight high pitched whine to it. If Arley spoke any louder she would sound on the brink of tears.

"Hey kid," Kilowog said, "Can I come in?"

"Course," Arley said as she sidestepped for the Bolvaxian. Arley always found herself in front of Kilowog on days like this; there was one of two ways Lanterns spent their time after burying a fellow Corpsmen. The first was in the training facility, Lanterns who knew the fallen but didn't have families— didn't have homes —spent their time training.

Others did spend their time with the families; Arisia always did, it didn't matter if she knew the dead Lantern or not, the blonde Graxian had come from a long line of Green Lanterns, she knew her life could end at any moment, that she had to covet the time she had with them.

Kilowog didn't have family; his planet had exploded and his wife and daughters had died, but he had been in the Corps so long— created so many ties to the other Corpsmen; forged so many bonds —that on days when a Lantern died— because after all the time he had put in, Kilowog knew every ring slinger in the universe —he would hang out in the canteen, swapping war stories until he would find himself back at Arley's apartment, his eyes rimmed red and that far and in between smile on his face.

"How are you?" Kilowog asked, Arley shrugged.

"Fine," she said, "I didn't really know Arkkis like that."

Like she knew him, like she knew Laira and Arisia and Ch'p. And on one level that was the truth, she didn't know Arkkis's favorite color— Arisia loved lilac —or food— ever since she had introduced him to it, Ch'p had a penchant for pizza —but she had know what his laughter had sounded like and that he had once had an older sister— Arley hadn't known what had happened to her but Arkkis had alluded to her being murdered; his species was hunted across the universe for their fine fur coats —and she had know she could trust her life in his hands because he would have her back.

She had known him well, just well enough.

Kilowog nodded, his eyes scanned the empty walls of the tiny matchbox apartment and he eyed the thick, fluffy blanket that hung on the end of the couch, his eyes flickered between the stack of homework Arley had and the tiny television that had been built into the wall to save for space.

"Have you even started that?" Kilowog asked Arley, his head jerked in the homework's direction.

Arley's mouth twisted; "I was going to."

Kilowog snorted.

"When" He asked, his smile tipped up into a much more teasing one, "The night before it was due?"

Arley simply shoved the last of her candy bar into her mouth; a construct— a glowing green hand —moved from her ring and placed the wrapper into the trash.

"Maybe," she said with a mouth full of milky way.

Kilowogs eyes had traveled with the construct and there was glint in them that had almost made Arley think he was going to lecture her on improper use of her ring; only the Bolvaxian said nothing as he turned away from the nearly filled trash.

"Come on," Kilowog said as he looked back at her, "I'll help you."

"You don't have to," Arley said, the pads of her fingers pressed against the outside of her thighs, "I can do it on my own." Her heart tightened in her chest, he had lost Arkkis— a dear friend —she had simply lost a fellow Corpsman. A fellow soldier.

Kilowog placed one of his hands on Arley's, his large thumb skimmed the base of her neck. Her eyes met the drill sergents.

"It's fine," he told her, "I used to help my girls with their homework after patrol-we used to make a game of if, for every question they got right I'd make whatever construct they'd want."

Arley's lips tipped upwards into a grin— the smile felt wrong but there was a happy warmth flooding through her at both Kilowog's instance and tidbit —as she craned her neck up to look at the pink-skinned alien.

"I have my own ring, you know." Kilowog shot Arley a sarcastic look and the other Lantern— the human girl —shrugged, though Kilowogs hand never faulted from her back. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem kiddo." And as the pair moved to the couch and Arley started to move her coursework around onto the table there was an odd sort of feeling settling in her chest.

She wasn't okay, she was still upset, but under the unhappiness that had grown like an albatrosses inside of her lungs, there was warmth she couldn't ignore; and as she finally brought her math work up so that Kilowog could see it too an urgent knock sounded from the other side of Arley's apartment door.

Both Arley and Kilowog's heads snapped up, her coursework forgotten about.

"Arley!" Flodo Span's voice shouted on the other side, "Arley are you in there?"

"Yeah!" Arley called out, she and Kilowog moved quickly towards the door; the large floating amoeba-like body of the Lantern greeted her as she braced herself against the doorframe, "What's wrong?"

"There's an Earthman in the Central Meeting Hall," the Lantern said.

"What?" Flodo didn't smile as they didn't have a face but the amoeba-like body of the Lantern twitched.

"There's an Earthman in the Meeting Hall. The Guardians sent me to fetch you."

And Eathman— a human —which meant one of three things; one Arley, like Hal, would be sent on a mission away from her sector— she would be leaving everyone behind on a long term mission; Arley's gut twisted —or two. Another Lantern had died. Either Hal was dead or another Lantern had crash landed somewhere in her sector and the ring had found its next wielder on Earth.

Arley didn't bother to tell Kilowog to lock up behind himself as she pushed past Flodo and tore off towards the Central Meeting Hall where apparently, her newest partner stood waiting for her.