The medbay of the Watchtower hummed with a sterile quietness, punctuated only by the beeping of monitors and the occasional shuffle of footsteps. Shayera's eyes fluttered open, the bright overhead lights forcing her to squint as she adjusted to her surroundings. The dull ache in her ribs and the sharp sting in her leg reminded her of the fight, of Tarra, and the close call she and Jessica had barely escaped.
Shayera tried to sit up, only to be greeted by a sharp pain in her ribs. She groaned in pain but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her. Shayera looked over to see John sitting at her bedside.
"Don't even think about it," John's voice said, calm but firm. His brown eyes bore into hers, his expression a mix of worry and frustration. "You're not in any shape to be moving around."
Shayera blinked at him, her mind sluggish as she took in the sight of him. His power ring wasn't even on him and he had just a plain t-shirt and sweatpants on. It was evident that he had likely rushed to the Watchtower the moment he had heard what had happened. Shayera tried to sit up once more but a sharp pain shot through her chest and back, forcing her back down.
Shayera turned her gaze toward the ceiling, letting out a slow breath. The battle felt like a blur now, memories of the pain, the rage, and the desperation swirling in her mind like a storm. Tarra had been relentless, and she hadn't pulled any punches. Shayera knew that. The fight had revealed something she had tried to ignore. She was not the warrior she once was. Time had dulled her instincts, and the care she had for her family had softened her edge. She had become a different person—someone who valued life over conflict. But had she become too soft and thus weak?
Shayera's thoughts turned inward. Over the years, she had become distracted by the life she had built on Earth—by the family she had started with John, by the peaceful moments she had shared with Emma and Rex. She had allowed herself to become distracted by a life she never thought she'd have. A life she never thought she deserved.
But had she grown too complacent?
Her heart ached with the question. Tarra had been right about one thing: she had changed. She wasn't the fierce soldier she had been on Thanagar. She had let her guard down, allowed herself to be swept up in the joys of family and Earth's quieter moments. But the cost of that was clear now. Tarra was stronger and faster than her. She hadn't gone soft like Shayera had. She was a predator, hunting down her prey without mercy.
The battle had been more than just physical. It had been a reminder to Shayera that everything had changed, everything she had let slip away in the years since leaving Thanagar. She was no longer that soldier who craved battle, who thrived in the chaos of war.
Her mind wandered back to Tarra's words, the sting of them still fresh.
"Look at what these humans have done to you. You've become weak."
Shayera clenched her fists, her muscles aching from the tension that gripped her body. She didn't know how to feel. Tarra had been right in some ways. But she also knew what Tarra failed to understand—what she would never understand. Shayera had built a new life, a life that was worth living for, even if it meant leaving her old self behind. She wasn't just fighting for herself anymore. She had a family now. A reason to stay strong.
"You're lucky," John's voice pulled Shayera out of her thoughts. "Most people wouldn't have survived a fight like that, let alone walked away."
"Most people aren't Thanagarian," Shayera quietly replied with a faint smirk. She then went silent for a moment before sighing, "How long was I out?"
"Five hours," John replied, handing her a bottle of water. "And before you ask, broken ribs, heavily bruised back, and some stitches for that gash on your leg."
Shayera sipped the water. She then tried to shift herself in the bed, grimacing as the movement sent a sharp pain through her ribs. "How's Jessica?"
"She got pretty banged up and has a concussion but she's going to be fine" John assured her, his hand resting gently on her arm to keep her from moving.
Shayera let out a slow breath, relief washing over her. "Good," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment.
John moved his hand so that it gently gripped hers, "How are you feeling?"
Shayera opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Despite herself, Shayera could feel her lips pulling back into a smirk, "Feels like I got hit by a truck...or five."
"That good, huh?" he asked, his voice laced with faint humor. Though his eyes told another story—one of worry and fear for her safety.
"I'll live," she whispered, her hand tightening around his. "I always do." But as the words left her mouth, they didn't sound as reassuring as she had intended. The truth was, the battle with Tarra had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Not just physically, but mentally. The bounty hunter's precision, her taunts, the overwhelming strength—it was unlike anything Shayera had faced in years.
"You want to tell me what happened out there and who that was?"
"Tarra Karn," she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her ribs. "She's a bounty hunter from Thanagar. And she's good, really good. She was always wild on the battlefield and had no regard for life. She used to kill frontline soldiers for sport. Of course she made them look like accidents."
"I take it that you know her."
Shayera lightly nodded, "Originally, she was in the espionage unit though she had other...talents. She knew how to get information out of people and she was very good at killing. They eventually ended up placing her in assassinations. Honestly I was relieved they took her from infiltration. I couldn't control her when she was in my squadron." She then paused as she swallowed. "Then, one day, she just up and left Thanagar. The story I heard was that a bounty hunter was going after the same person she was sent to assassinate. One thing led to another and she realized she could do the same job but get paid for it and on her own terms. The Thanagarian High Council didn't even care that she left. Leaving Thanagar like that is considered treason. It was if they were happy she was gone." Shayera released a deep sigh before she continued, "I'm guessing they put a bounty on me and managed to get into contact with her. She left Thanagar long before I did and never returned so I'm surprised she even agreed to the job."
John studied her face for a long moment, his thumb gently brushing across her knuckles. There was a silent understanding between them, one built from years of shared battles and quiet moments of vulnerability.
Shayera's gaze softened, but a part of her remained distant, a quiet storm brewing inside. John's thumb moved with careful tenderness but she could feel his unspoken questions pressing against her. She didn't want to burden him with her doubts—he had enough to carry—but she couldn't help herself.
"I thought I was ready for this," Shayera whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
John's expression softened, and he leaned in closer, his hand still gently holding hers. "Ready for what, Shayera?"
She sighed, her eyes looking away, staring at the ceiling again as though searching for some kind of answer she wasn't sure would come. "For this fight. To fight someone like Tarra but I wasn't. At least, not like I used to be," her voice faltered, the words thick with the weight of her self-doubt. "I've changed, John. I've become...soft. I've let myself care too much about things I never thought I would. And now I'm not sure if I can still be the warrior I was."
John remained silent for a moment, allowing the words to settle between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, calm, and resolute. "Shayera, you're not the same person you were. And you're definitely not the same as when I first met you. But that doesn't make you weaker. It makes you stronger. You've chosen to fight for something bigger. That's what makes you who you are."
Shayera's eyes flickered back to John, his words sinking deep within her. She wanted to argue, to push back against the vulnerability his words had coaxed out of her, but she couldn't. Not this time. The weight of her own doubts had become too heavy to deny.
"I used to be a soldier just like her," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "All I knew was war. But now...everything's different. I have a life here, a family, things I never thought I'd want or even have. Now I'm afraid that, because of it, I'm no longer capable of being the person I was—the person who fought without hesitation, without doubt."
John's thumb brushed over her knuckles again, a gentle reminder of his presence, his support. "You're still that person, Shayera but you're more than that now. You're not just fighting for yourself anymore. You're fighting for the people you love, for the life you've built. That doesn't make you weaker, it makes you unstoppable."
Shayera looked down at their intertwined hands, his warmth a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions. She wasn't sure if she could ever fully believe that she was still the warrior she had once been but she knew John was right in one sense. Her fight wasn't just for her anymore. It was for all of them—the family she had come to cherish, the people she had sworn to protect.
"You really think so?" she asked quietly, her voice wavering slightly, as if testing his words.
"I know so," John replied without hesitation. "And you'll prove it, just like you always do."
Shayera's lips quirked up into a faint smile, the tension in her chest easing ever so slightly, "You always know what to say."
John sheepishly returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I don't always know but I try."
Shayera let out a soft chuckle, the sound a quiet comfort between them. It was so easy to forget the weight of the world when she was with John, when his presence steadied her in ways she hadn't realized she needed. For a moment, the storm inside her calmed, and she felt the familiar sense of peace she had fought so hard to build over the years.
The silence stretched on but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a shared space, a pause where neither of them had to speak to understand what the other was feeling. Still, the weight of the situation lingered, heavy in the air. Shayera knew she couldn't stay like this forever. Tarra was out there, still hunting her.
"I'm going to need to face her," Shayera said suddenly, her voice steady now, no longer wavering with self-doubt.
John's hand tightened around hers, a subtle warning, but he didn't try to pull away. "Not yet," he replied firmly. He hated the idea of Shayera putting herself in harm's way again, especially after barely surviving this encounter. But he knew her well enough to understand that once her mind was made up, there was no talking her out of it. "And we're going to face her together."
Shayera raised an eyebrow, "John, this isn't your fight—"
"It is if it involves you," he interrupted with a frown. "I'm not letting you do this alone, Shayera. We'll handle this together."
A small, reluctant smile tugged at Shayera's lips. She should have known he'd say that. John had always been her anchor, the one person who could steady her when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
"Alright," she said softly. "But first, I need to rest a little. If I go after her now, I'll just be walking into another beating."
John nodded, relief flashing across his face, "I think that's the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say." Shayera chuckled, though the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her ribs. She winced, and John instantly placed his hand on her arm, steadying her. "Easy," he said. "You're still the toughest person I know, even if you're stuck in bed for a bit."
She shot him a look but there was no real heat behind it. "Don't get used to it," she muttered.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a grin.
Shayera leaned back into the bed, her body protesting the movement but grateful for the chance to rest. As much as she hated feeling vulnerable, she couldn't deny the comfort that John's presence gave her. It was rare for her to feel this way, to feel so...human.