JL Fic: Kaddish (1/4)
***
Kaddish (1/4)
a Justice League Unlimited story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2005
PG
***
Summary: After a terrible accident, Kyle comes to take John's place as Lantern of Sector 2814. Wally fails to deal.
DC and Warner Bros. own the characters, along with a few characters owned by Milestone (guess which ones). I'm just playing with the toys. Spoilers up through "To Another Shore." Part of the R 'Verse, but familiarity with that series is not required.
Deepest thanks go out to dotsomething for a superb beta, and to billa1 for audiencing and pointing out an important layout problem.
***
Prologue
***
Virgil was walking through the living room on his way to the kitchen for a snack when Sharon turned on the tv.
" ... breaking news! I'm Shelly Sandoval, on location in Metropolis, where the Justice League has just been fighting with the Legion of Doom."
Sharon changed the channel.
"Hey! Turn that back "
"You're not even watching tv, Virgil," said his sister, continuing to flip.
He jumped over the back of the couch and landed in the seat beside her. "I am now. C'mon, change it back!"
Sharon sighed her favorite martyr sigh and turned the channel back. "Just because your skinny butt has some juvenile obsession with the Justice League ... "
"Shh!" Virgil grabbed the remote from her and turned it up.
The camera wasn't steady, and Virgil felt a quick stab of vertigo as he watched. A huge building had been demolished, and dust and smoke and superheroes were everywhere.
" ... bodies have been removed from the building."
Uh oh. Sounded like the League hadn't gotten there in time.
"Unconfirmed reports have said Black Canary and Doctor Light have been evacuated for medical treatment. Their condition is unknown at this time."
Virgil hoped they were okay. Doctor Light had always been really nice to him.
"This just in. More unconfirmed reports are coming in, and I must emphasize, these have not been substantiated by any member of the Justice League, that three League members are still trapped inside."
Behind Sandoval, heroes surrounded a small area of the ruins. Virgil squirmed to see, and the cameraman must have read his mind, because they zoomed in. He saw a flash of purple being dragged from the building, and he got a bad feeling in his stomach.
"It's hard to tell from here, but that appears to be Metamorpho. Can we get a stock photo? Thanks." A picture of Metamorpho appeared in the bottom left corner. "He doesn't appear to be moving."
Just then, a dark hand covered his tv screen, and Batman's voice boomed through the speakers: "Get back. Now."
The reporter and the camera moved back a bit, and another paper was thrust into her hands. "More reports coming in." She scanned them quickly. "Green Lantern and Hawkgirl were inside the building at the time of the explosion, which was several minutes ago. Green Lantern is capable of forming a force bubble with his ring, so both may still be alive."
The phone rang. Virgil ignored it. Sharon stared at him, then made a grunt of disgust and went to answer it. "Yeah, he's here. Hold on." She thrust the phone into Virgil's hands. "It's Richie. When you're done watching the League be perfectly fine, because they always are, I want the tv back."
"Virge?"
"Yeah, Rich?"
"Are you watching?"
"Yeah."
"So you think they're okay?"
"I don't know. I really don't."
"I'm coming over."
"Good idea." He hung up, still watching.
When the channel went to commercial, Virgil ran up to his room and got out his comm from the desk drawer where he kept it. "Static to Flash."
"Not now, Static." Translation: we're busy, kid.
"Just wanted to know if Gear and I should come help."
"No. Just stay put." Flash's voice softened, and Virgil heard the worry come through loud and clear. "We'll let you know when we know anything. I promise." The link went dead.
About twenty minutes later, Richie showed up, and they sat on the couch together. The channel had resumed its normal programming, so they'd gone to CNN. No new reports, and no sign of Lantern or Shayera. An hour went by. Pops got home from work, saw them on the couch, asked why, then sat with them. After a while, he made sandwiches for them all and brought them out on a plate. Sharon walked back through a few times, making that same irritated noise.
"They're gonna be fine. It's the Justice League, hello!" She took a sandwich, though, and she read her book in the living room.
The hours went by. Virgil and Richie barely spoke to each other. Sharon looked at them over the edge of her book from time to time, but Pops just sat with them and watched the news.
CNN came back from commercial, and then the anchor said, "Breaking news. This just in from the Justice League."
Richie jerked and touched his ear, and said quietly, "He's here too. Go ahead." Virgil glanced to see if Sharon had noticed, but she was watching the tv.
The anchor said, "Metamorpho, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl are dead."
Virgil's head twisted to Richie, whose finger was still at his ear and who looked pale as a ghost. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder. He shut his eyes.
***
Chapter 1
***
Kyle felt conspicuous. He often did, being the only human out where he was among the stars, but life in the Corps had numbed him to that over the past few years. Everyone looked weird, so nobody did. Fact of life.
Today he stood out. Today, although he stood with a strong handful of his closest friends from the Lantern Corps, he wasn't like them anymore. He was on Earth, and he was staying. They'd arrived just in time for the memorial service --- Metamorphing Guy had gotten a funeral besides, but he left behind enough of a body to bury --- and now Kyle stood back, watching the Justice League mourn their dead, with his rucksack on his back and ready to move into a dead man's sector.
He knew he should be solemn, knew the League had lost three good people and the Corps one of their own, and he'd liked John aside from all of that. But right now, he just kind of wanted to throw up.
Should've dropped the stuff at the door. He hadn't seen a good spot, though, and he didn't want to leave his few important personal possessions just sitting someplace, hoping they didn't get taken. Which was stupid, when he thought about it, because no one was crazy enough to steal things when the whole League was standing right there.
A few of them stared in his direction from time to time. His shoulder was getting numb, but he didn't want to swing the bag and set it at his feet because there wasn't much room, and so he tried to shift the weight, and that just made it heavier.
Like he tended to do in these situations, he looked over at Katma and Kilowog. And then he saw the pain on both faces, pain he'd seen off and on ever since the League had contacted Oa. John had been their friend, more than a friend to Kat if the rumors were right, and here Kyle was ready to complain because his sketchbooks and underwear were getting heavy.
The urge to vomit came back.
A lot of people spoke. John had had a lot of friends, and Kyle supposed so had Metamorphing Guy and Hawkgirl. A pretty blonde thing cried her way through Metamorphing Guy's eulogy. An even prettier Black lady sat in the front row beside her, stiff and straight in her dark dress, but although Superman looked at her a bunch of times, she didn't get up to say anything and Kyle didn't see her crying. Kyle knew about the Hawkgirl thing with John, but he'd heard that John was engaged to someone else, and guessed it was the Black lady. Instead, the Flash got up and started telling stories about John and Hawkgirl too, stupid stories, funny stories, and soon everyone had a smile, even if it was a sad one.
That Flash seems like a good guy.
And then it was done, and the superheroes broke off in groups to talk quietly. Several went to look at the wall, where three gold stars had just been affixed with three names. They were the first three, and probably not the last. Superman was over there, and Kyle was about to go see him, say hi, maybe get a few pointers on things like where he should put his stuff. Then Flash zipped over to their group.
"Hey, guys," he said warmly, and to Kyle's surprise, he hugged Kilowog, and then Katma. "Glad you could make it."
"Of course we came," Kat said, trying to use her chiding voice and failing.
"If you need anything," said Kilowog. "Just ask."
"We've got it covered, pal of mine," said Flash. "It's not like the old days when there were just the seven of us taking care of things." He stopped, losing the smile he'd been wearing. A moment later, he put it back on. "Sorry."
"We understand," said Katma.
"How long are you guys staying?"
"Not long," said Tomar Re. "We came to honor John Stewart, and to escort ... "
Kyle coughed. "It's just 'Green Lantern,' Tomar."
Katma rolled her eyes. "I don't get the 'secret identity' thing with you humans."
"John didn't have one," Flash said, the first thing he'd said directly to Kyle, and it sounded like an accusation.
"Sure he did," Kat replied. "When he first started out as a Lantern. Wore a mask and everything."
Kilowog snickered. "I remember those days. Bad mask."
Kyle felt uncomfortably aware of his own mask on his face.
"But he dropped it," said Flash.
"He got outed," corrected Katma. "He was really mad, too. He sent me a message, yelling about it."
"I remember that," said Kyle. "Some newspaper did it." He did a quick check of his memory, and he didn't think it had been the Planet.
"Whatever," said Kat. "He was mad. And then he got over it." She patted him on the shoulder. "So will you."
Kyle wanted to object, but Flash was already saying his good-byes to everyone, and Kyle's hand was getting shaken, and Katma and Kilowog had ducked over to give their regards to people before they left. Katma talked in a low voice to Batman for a few minutes, Kyle noticed.
"I don't need to get over it," he said to himself.
"What?" said Flash, who was still standing there.
"Nothing. Hey, can you tell me where I can put this stuff?"
"Ask J'onn or Mr. Terrific." And before Kyle could ask who in the world they were, Flash had zipped away to chat up someone else.
A few minutes later, he was waving good-bye to the other Lanterns. They had their own sectors to patrol. If the Corps stopped working every time a Lantern died, nothing would ever get done. The greatest honor to another Lantern's memory was doing the best job he could, Kilowog had told him. Anyway, they'd had a private wake for John the day before.
Probably the day before. Kyle hadn't been on Earth for more than a three-day stretch at a time in years, and his time-sense was all screwy. It was supposed to be afternoon, and that looked right in the sky, but his body clock was set to Oa Standard and it was not quite lunchtime. With his stuff getting heavier and the room getting less full, he figured he needed to find a place to sit down, a place to put his stuff, and possibly something to eat.
Superman was still standing by the wall, and Kyle hauled his bag over. Superman nodded a greeting, but continued to talk quietly with Batman and Wonder Woman. Kyle wasn't sure if he should interrupt, so he stood there a while, pretending to gravely examine the new stars. Finally, the three of them broke their conversation, and he saw his opportunity. "Superman?"
"Hi, K ---"
"Lantern It's just 'Green Lantern,' okay?"
Superman smiled. "Of course. Well, Lantern, I can't say I'm happy for the circumstances, but it's good to see you again."
"Same here," Kyle said. "Hey, can you tell me where I can put my things?"
"Ask Mr. Terrific or J'onn and they'll set you up." Superman touched his ear. "Superman here."
"But ... " Kyle started.
"I have to go. Excuse me." And he flew off.
The room was almost empty now, and Kyle hadn't seen where most of the Leaguers had gone. A few had gone past them into the Tower proper, but most had simply left, either to the other Watchtower or to their own homes. He looked around, saw a cowboy talking to a knight in swear-to-god shining armor, and figured he'd try his luck there.
"Hey."
The cowboy looked him up and down. "You the new Lantern?"
"That's me. Hi." He stuck out his hand. "Green Lantern. Yes. Hey." The secret identity thing was going to suck.
"Vigilante."
The knight shook his hand gravely. "Sir Justin of the Court of ... " Vigilante poked him in the ribs.
"Call 'im Shining Knight. Everybody else does."
"Hi," said Kyle. "Look, can you tell me where I can put this stuff?"
"You stayin' here?" asked Vigilante.
"I think so. At least for now. I lost the lease on my apartment years ago."
Sir Justin said, "J'onn J'onzz is in charge of League affairs, although Mr. Terrific has deigned to take on some of his responsibilities in J'onn's absence."
"I seen 'em both around today," said Vigilante. "They'll set you up good. C'mon, Ess Kay." And they turned and left.
Kyle stood alone in the front hall of the Metropolis Watchtower, his rucksack still on his back.
Dammit.
The inner door was unlocked, and after a moment, he went through. The outer door to the street had looked pass-coded and sealed, and he knew that if he went out, there was no way he was getting back in without a keycard or an escort, and currently, he had neither.
Inside the rest of the Tower, bare corridors stretched to either side, with windows looking out on the rapidly-purpling skyline over Metropolis Harbor. Afternoon was fading into evening, and the heroes had returned to their heroing.
"Hello?" Kyle called down the corridor to his right. No answer, and he decided to start walking. He'd either run into someone or set off an alarm, and at this point, any attention would be good.
The Tower was eerily quiet and empty, though, and Kyle startled when the lights automatically clicked up to full brightness as the daylight entirely died outside. He'd been to the orbital Watchtower once; the station had bustled with purple techs and multicolored Leaguers and the hum of the power systems keeping the impossible ornament floating along in space. When he'd gone back to Oa, he'd gone through two packs of colored pencils trying to capture it all in sketches before his memories faded.
He'd expected the Earth-based Tower to be even more vivid, an easier stopping-off place between missions for the League and a cozy assignment on the planet for the crew. Instead, as he picked up his pace nervously, this was a crypt, a mausoleum, a place for the wraiths of a dead colleague and his associates to wander, and Kyle had entrapped himself within by some sin, probably pride.
Stewart's voice was in his imagination: You really think you can handle this job, kid?
Kyle shook his head, ridding it of the voice. That was stupid. John had always been a good guy. Kind of a hardass sometimes, sure, but so were all the old-timers, and so Kyle expected to be someday, training snot-nosed kids with new rings. During the rare times they'd been able to just hang out and talk, John had always used the word "when" in regards to Kyle's taking the sector, never "if." Even in Kyle's fevered glow of just being in the same room as another human again, he'd picked up on that. It made the training a little easier sometimes, after John had gone back home and Kyle was still out there, still learning, still screwing up.
Stewart's voice again, kinder this time: No more room for screw-ups. This is your life now.
Or it would be, Kyle supposed, if he could only find someone to tell him where he could sit down. He felt like he'd entered a room where there was a surprise party going on. No one was jumping out, but he felt that there were people nearby if he could just find them.
He turned a corner and found an elevator. "Yes!" Elevators were good. They led to upper levels, where there could be people.
He glanced at the numbers on the panel, picked the second floor as a reasonable guess, and punched it.
Nothing happened.
He punched it again, waiting for the doors to close, anything, and then he noticed the card-access right by the panel. Different people would have different access levels to get to different parts of the Tower. Security procedures. Yay.
Kyle hit his head against the wall of the elevator. Then he dropped his bag and plunked himself onto the floor. Someone would come. Eventually. And then he would ask them who in the hell Mr. Terrific and J'onn were.
***
Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose. This day had been too long. So had the day before it. And the day before that had been almost unbearable. Confrontation after confrontation with the Legion of Doom was leaving the League tired and edgy, not sure when they could relax or what alarum they could trust was a real alert and not another trap.
Clark hadn't honestly believed Metamorpho could be killed, not by anything short of a nuclear detonation, and even then he'd have given the man even odds of pulling through. Doctor Light and Black Canary were still in the infirmary on the orbital Watchtower, but were expected to make full recoveries.
He'd been spending a lot of time over the past couple of days trying not to think about the other two victims of Toyman's snare, trying even harder to block out Grodd's grinning chuckle as he'd pointed out just how thoroughly he'd broken the "Lucky Seven," trying most of all to quell the dark place inside him that whispered his double's methods of punishment and control, just this once, might be for the greater good and not just for vengeance of two beloved friends lost.
He had a headache.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Sunday, and he would go to the church he'd been forgetting to attend lately, and while the minister talked, he would sit and he'd pray for a release from his own anger, hands folded and head bowed like Ma had taught him as a child. And maybe it'd work this time.
He flew onto the roof of the Metro Tower, landing lightly then striding to the rooftop entrance. He swiped his card, opened the door, and walked down the stairway to the Control Room.
Clark nodded a greeting to Wally and Booster, did a quick glance over the day's reports, then went to walk down to the canteen for a bite to eat before he went home.
Question came in the door he was about to walk out, and stopped him.
"Superman."
"Question." They were still not on the best terms after the Cadmus thing. Sure, Clark had saved his life, but the Question still watched him - well, the way he watched everything behind that blank face - with an air of detachment and worry that the future he'd theorized might still come to pass. And nothing Clark could say would ever entirely change his mind.
Question asked, "Did you forget something?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"I found our new Green Lantern asleep in the elevator a few minutes ago."
"What? " The headache wasn't going anywhere. "Where is he now?"
"Still sleeping. He looked tired." Question's face, as usual, gave nothing away.
Clark sighed and went out past Question to the elevator. Sure enough, as the door slid open, Kyle Rayner was just stirring on the floor.
"K - Lantern?"
Kyle sat up and rubbed his head. "Ow. Thought that might work."
"What might work?"
"Staying in the elevator until someone came along."
Clark offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "Why are you sitting in the elevator?"
"Because I don't have a card to activate it. Or the front door." He brushed invisible specks of dust off his uniform.
"Why didn't you use your ring?"
"My ... " Kyle paused. "You don't have alarms against that kind of thing?"
Clark opened his mouth and closed it. "You know, I've never asked."
"By the way, can you please introduce me to the guys you said would give me a room, since I've never met them?"
"You met J'onn last time, I thought. Tall, kind of green?"
"Sounds like half the people I know. You've seen the Corps."
Clark smiled. "True. I'm sorry. I forgot you didn't know anybody. Let me make it up to you?"
"As long as that involves food of some sort, you're on."
"There's a canteen here and a nice cafeteria on the Watchtower." Clark paused. Kyle was a Metropolis boy. "But I know a great steak place downtown if you wouldn't mind going in secret identity mode."
Kyle cracked a grin. "You're on."
"Let me introduce you to a few people first." Clark led him back to the Control Room. Question inclined his head at Kyle, politely declining to shake hands. Booster made up for it by shaking Kyle's hand so hard Clark was sure it would come off; Booster rarely mentioned anything about his life in the future, but Clark knew the man remembered some names.
"Flash, come meet Green Lantern."
"We met," said Wally, not turning away from his monitor. Clark thought about making him come over, and then dropped it. Wally wasn't ready yet.
Clark went to another station and called the Watchtower. "Terrific, you there?"
The screen crackled and then merged into an image: Vibe. "Mr. T's not on tonight, Superman. Anything you need?"
"No, I can do it here. Thanks." He closed the transmission and then pulled up a schematic of the Metro Tower with room assignments. There was a free room on Level Five. He keyed in his own code and got a code for Kyle, printing out a temporary passcard for him at the same time.
"All right," he said, coming back to where Kyle stood, craning his neck around to get a better look. "Code, passcard, you'll get the real ones probably tomorrow."
"Thanks."
"Let's drop your things in your room and then go. We can change on the way."
Question watched them go; Wally never even moved his head.
J'onn is going to have to stay around for a while. And I know who his first appointment needs to be.
***
"Nice fellow," said Question.
Wally didn't say anything. He'd stopped looking at the data readout a while ago. He wasn't supposed to be on watch this evening, but there'd been an opening in the schedule because ...
He wasn't ready to put words around the gaps.
He really wasn't ready for someone else to try to fill one.
Wally hadn't slept in two nights. The first, he'd stayed at the site, digging superfast through rubble and debris, looking for anything and finding nothing. Metamorpho had been easy to see, and Doctor Light had been trapped under a fallen wall, and the rest had been wounded (mostly minor scrapes and bruises, except for Canary, who'd almost lost a leg) in the explosion by flying debris and ...
Words. Gaps.
The second night, last night, he'd tried to sleep and he hadn't been able to, and he'd gotten a call at one am from Hall, who had been as drunk as any man Wally'd ever met, and Wally had run run run as fast as he could to Hall's place, and the alcohol in his bloodstream couldn't keep pace with his metabolism, and he'd spent the night awake and too sober listening to a man he didn't like sob like a child.
And now it was the third night, and Wally was standing a watch because she ...
Because ...
Because.
***
Kyle devoured everything the waiter set in front of him. Superman - no, Clark - had been right; this place was fantastic Still weird, realizing that Superman was actually Mr. Kent. Now that he knew, staring across the table at the guy as he ate his own steak, he saw so many things in common he couldn't imagine not knowing.
Staring. He was staring. Kyle bent back over his plate, scooping up some gravy with another roll. Everything here was delicious and in huge portions, from the enormous potatoes overflowing with butter and sour cream to the hearty steaks, still sizzling on the plates as they stated to eat. Earth food.
"So," said Mr. Kent around a bite of steak. "Are you thinking about coming back to the Planet? I can put in a good word for you with Perry."
"Thanks. I'd like that." He rubbed his head. Then he looked to make sure no one was nearby and said quietly, "The Guardians give us a stipend to live on, based on the local economy. It's not a lot, though."
"John told me about that," said Mr. Kent. "I was wondering how he could afford to be a Lantern full time."
"I thought you were You Know Who full time. Until just now."
Mr. Kent said, "And I'd prefer it stay that way. You know to keep this under your hat?"
"Scout's honor. Nobody would believe me anyway." Kyle played with his roll, tearing it to little bits. "How bad is it?"
"What?"
"You just lost three members, including two founders." There. That was the wince Kyle'd been expecting. "Don't tell me everyone's okay."
Mr. Kent sat back in his booth seat. An expression Kyle didn't recognize crossed his face, and his fingers itched. He wanted his charcoals for this, drawing the most famous face in the world in shades of light and dark. He forced his hands to hold the roll tightly.
"No one's okay," said Mr. Kent after a long time. "Some people are less okay than others."
"I'm coming in blind here. I know you. I knew John. I met a few other people, but I don't really know anyone. Flash already hates me."
"He doesn't. He's just ... He's one of the less okay people right now."
"He shouldn't be on duty, then. One thing Katma drilled into my head was that if you know your emotions are going to guide you instead of your brain, you get the hell out of there before you do something stupid and get someone killed."
Mr. Kent watched his face for a moment. "Smart woman, that Katma," he said after a moment.
"Yeah."
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. Flash insisted on taking the watch tonight. He's on until midnight. The criminal element have been quiet the last few days because they're afraid we're going to go all Justice Lords on the next person to stick a toe out of line."
"Justice who?"
"Don't worry about it," said Mr. Kent, and there was that look on his face again. "He'll come around. Everyone will, eventually. Give them time to adjust. It'd be easier if you told a few of them your name. Some people are going to feel like you're trying to make them choose between you and their memories of John if you insist on using the codename."
"Maybe." Pick. Pick. And now there was nothing left but crumbs. "Who do I stay away from?"
"Hm?"
"Everyone will come around eventually. Fine. But Flash isn't the only one who's not going to be my best friend right off the bat."
"Vixen. Give her room."
"Was she the one at the memorial service?"
Mr. Kent nodded. "She and John were together, but ... " He sighed. "It was complicated, and John managed to complicate it a lot more about two seconds before he died. You're going to hear a lot of rumors about that. Ignore most of them."
"All right. Anyone else?"
"Hawkman, if he decides to stay. He's not officially in the League," Kent lowered his voice, "and to be frank, none of us can really stand him anyway. Don't be surprised if you don't see much of him."
"What about Metamorphing Guy's girl?"
"Metamorpho," said Superman sharply.
"Sorry."
Mr. Kent was tense, and then he tried to relax. Under his suit, Kyle saw the roll of his muscles as they adjusted. An hour, just one hour with Superman and his charcoals under a good light, and Kyle would have three Christmasses all tied up for what he wanted.
"Sapphire is welcome to visit, but she's not in the League."
Kyle had stopped thinking about the League for a moment. "Hey, does Jimmy know? About you, I mean?"
"No one at work does. And again, you need to keep it that way."
"I can. And Mr. Kent?"
"Hm?"
"Thanks for trusting me."
Another smile, like pure sunlight, and Kyle wasn't going to sleep tonight, was going to find paper wherever he could in the Watchtower and draw all night.
"Do your job," said Mr. Kent. "Do it the best you can, every day. Be someone we can trust and rely on. You've got some big shoes to fill but the man who wore them last never had anything but good to say about you. Even if I hadn't already known you, that would be good enough for me."
His voice was thick now, and he looked away, taking a long drink of coffee. Kyle spent time placing his silverware on his plate just so and drinking his soda while Mr. Kent composed himself.
"Come on," said Mr. Kent finally. "I'll walk you back so you don't get lost."
He pulled out some money from his wallet, shooing away Kyle's feeble attempt to pay. Which was good, Kyle supposed, since he had an ATM card for a savings account he hoped was still there, and that was it. The bill and the tip Mr. Kent left was more Earth currency than Kyle had felt in his hands in the last five years.
He had so much to do. He'd try to get his job back, try to find a place to live in Metropolis, try to reestablish himself as an actual person with things like a credit history. Kyle felt sick again.
Mr. Kent glanced at him, and maybe one of Superman's powers was telepathy, because as they walked, he said casually, "We have some contacts who are good at creating identity paper trails, backgrounds, that sort of thing. It comes in really handy for the aliens."
"Aren't you ... ?"
"I'm a special case," he said, and that was all.
They were among the evening crowds tonight, people shopping, talking. It was cold, and Kyle realized he didn't even know what month it was anymore. He stopped, over and over, just staring at the sea of humans on the sidewalks and in their cars, not at all surprised or put out or overjoyed at seeing so many of their own species in one place.
The first time John had come to Oa to check up on him, Kyle had hugged him like a long-lost brother, and that after having only met him twice before. Now there were hundreds, even thousands of humans all around him, not in masks, not in uniforms, just walking by.
It was amazing, and a little scary.
"How do you get used to it?" he asked Mr. Kent.
"Used to what?"
"Being different. Knowing all the things you've seen, all the places you've been, and still being able to walk down a street like this. How do you not feel completely alone?"
Kent shrugged. "You learn."
"I was afraid you were gonna say that."
***
Chapter Two
Kaddish (1/4)
a Justice League Unlimited story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2005
PG
***
Summary: After a terrible accident, Kyle comes to take John's place as Lantern of Sector 2814. Wally fails to deal.
DC and Warner Bros. own the characters, along with a few characters owned by Milestone (guess which ones). I'm just playing with the toys. Spoilers up through "To Another Shore." Part of the R 'Verse, but familiarity with that series is not required.
Deepest thanks go out to dotsomething for a superb beta, and to billa1 for audiencing and pointing out an important layout problem.
***
Prologue
***
Virgil was walking through the living room on his way to the kitchen for a snack when Sharon turned on the tv.
" ... breaking news! I'm Shelly Sandoval, on location in Metropolis, where the Justice League has just been fighting with the Legion of Doom."
Sharon changed the channel.
"Hey! Turn that back "
"You're not even watching tv, Virgil," said his sister, continuing to flip.
He jumped over the back of the couch and landed in the seat beside her. "I am now. C'mon, change it back!"
Sharon sighed her favorite martyr sigh and turned the channel back. "Just because your skinny butt has some juvenile obsession with the Justice League ... "
"Shh!" Virgil grabbed the remote from her and turned it up.
The camera wasn't steady, and Virgil felt a quick stab of vertigo as he watched. A huge building had been demolished, and dust and smoke and superheroes were everywhere.
" ... bodies have been removed from the building."
Uh oh. Sounded like the League hadn't gotten there in time.
"Unconfirmed reports have said Black Canary and Doctor Light have been evacuated for medical treatment. Their condition is unknown at this time."
Virgil hoped they were okay. Doctor Light had always been really nice to him.
"This just in. More unconfirmed reports are coming in, and I must emphasize, these have not been substantiated by any member of the Justice League, that three League members are still trapped inside."
Behind Sandoval, heroes surrounded a small area of the ruins. Virgil squirmed to see, and the cameraman must have read his mind, because they zoomed in. He saw a flash of purple being dragged from the building, and he got a bad feeling in his stomach.
"It's hard to tell from here, but that appears to be Metamorpho. Can we get a stock photo? Thanks." A picture of Metamorpho appeared in the bottom left corner. "He doesn't appear to be moving."
Just then, a dark hand covered his tv screen, and Batman's voice boomed through the speakers: "Get back. Now."
The reporter and the camera moved back a bit, and another paper was thrust into her hands. "More reports coming in." She scanned them quickly. "Green Lantern and Hawkgirl were inside the building at the time of the explosion, which was several minutes ago. Green Lantern is capable of forming a force bubble with his ring, so both may still be alive."
The phone rang. Virgil ignored it. Sharon stared at him, then made a grunt of disgust and went to answer it. "Yeah, he's here. Hold on." She thrust the phone into Virgil's hands. "It's Richie. When you're done watching the League be perfectly fine, because they always are, I want the tv back."
"Virge?"
"Yeah, Rich?"
"Are you watching?"
"Yeah."
"So you think they're okay?"
"I don't know. I really don't."
"I'm coming over."
"Good idea." He hung up, still watching.
When the channel went to commercial, Virgil ran up to his room and got out his comm from the desk drawer where he kept it. "Static to Flash."
"Not now, Static." Translation: we're busy, kid.
"Just wanted to know if Gear and I should come help."
"No. Just stay put." Flash's voice softened, and Virgil heard the worry come through loud and clear. "We'll let you know when we know anything. I promise." The link went dead.
About twenty minutes later, Richie showed up, and they sat on the couch together. The channel had resumed its normal programming, so they'd gone to CNN. No new reports, and no sign of Lantern or Shayera. An hour went by. Pops got home from work, saw them on the couch, asked why, then sat with them. After a while, he made sandwiches for them all and brought them out on a plate. Sharon walked back through a few times, making that same irritated noise.
"They're gonna be fine. It's the Justice League, hello!" She took a sandwich, though, and she read her book in the living room.
The hours went by. Virgil and Richie barely spoke to each other. Sharon looked at them over the edge of her book from time to time, but Pops just sat with them and watched the news.
CNN came back from commercial, and then the anchor said, "Breaking news. This just in from the Justice League."
Richie jerked and touched his ear, and said quietly, "He's here too. Go ahead." Virgil glanced to see if Sharon had noticed, but she was watching the tv.
The anchor said, "Metamorpho, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl are dead."
Virgil's head twisted to Richie, whose finger was still at his ear and who looked pale as a ghost. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder. He shut his eyes.
***
Chapter 1
***
Kyle felt conspicuous. He often did, being the only human out where he was among the stars, but life in the Corps had numbed him to that over the past few years. Everyone looked weird, so nobody did. Fact of life.
Today he stood out. Today, although he stood with a strong handful of his closest friends from the Lantern Corps, he wasn't like them anymore. He was on Earth, and he was staying. They'd arrived just in time for the memorial service --- Metamorphing Guy had gotten a funeral besides, but he left behind enough of a body to bury --- and now Kyle stood back, watching the Justice League mourn their dead, with his rucksack on his back and ready to move into a dead man's sector.
He knew he should be solemn, knew the League had lost three good people and the Corps one of their own, and he'd liked John aside from all of that. But right now, he just kind of wanted to throw up.
Should've dropped the stuff at the door. He hadn't seen a good spot, though, and he didn't want to leave his few important personal possessions just sitting someplace, hoping they didn't get taken. Which was stupid, when he thought about it, because no one was crazy enough to steal things when the whole League was standing right there.
A few of them stared in his direction from time to time. His shoulder was getting numb, but he didn't want to swing the bag and set it at his feet because there wasn't much room, and so he tried to shift the weight, and that just made it heavier.
Like he tended to do in these situations, he looked over at Katma and Kilowog. And then he saw the pain on both faces, pain he'd seen off and on ever since the League had contacted Oa. John had been their friend, more than a friend to Kat if the rumors were right, and here Kyle was ready to complain because his sketchbooks and underwear were getting heavy.
The urge to vomit came back.
A lot of people spoke. John had had a lot of friends, and Kyle supposed so had Metamorphing Guy and Hawkgirl. A pretty blonde thing cried her way through Metamorphing Guy's eulogy. An even prettier Black lady sat in the front row beside her, stiff and straight in her dark dress, but although Superman looked at her a bunch of times, she didn't get up to say anything and Kyle didn't see her crying. Kyle knew about the Hawkgirl thing with John, but he'd heard that John was engaged to someone else, and guessed it was the Black lady. Instead, the Flash got up and started telling stories about John and Hawkgirl too, stupid stories, funny stories, and soon everyone had a smile, even if it was a sad one.
That Flash seems like a good guy.
And then it was done, and the superheroes broke off in groups to talk quietly. Several went to look at the wall, where three gold stars had just been affixed with three names. They were the first three, and probably not the last. Superman was over there, and Kyle was about to go see him, say hi, maybe get a few pointers on things like where he should put his stuff. Then Flash zipped over to their group.
"Hey, guys," he said warmly, and to Kyle's surprise, he hugged Kilowog, and then Katma. "Glad you could make it."
"Of course we came," Kat said, trying to use her chiding voice and failing.
"If you need anything," said Kilowog. "Just ask."
"We've got it covered, pal of mine," said Flash. "It's not like the old days when there were just the seven of us taking care of things." He stopped, losing the smile he'd been wearing. A moment later, he put it back on. "Sorry."
"We understand," said Katma.
"How long are you guys staying?"
"Not long," said Tomar Re. "We came to honor John Stewart, and to escort ... "
Kyle coughed. "It's just 'Green Lantern,' Tomar."
Katma rolled her eyes. "I don't get the 'secret identity' thing with you humans."
"John didn't have one," Flash said, the first thing he'd said directly to Kyle, and it sounded like an accusation.
"Sure he did," Kat replied. "When he first started out as a Lantern. Wore a mask and everything."
Kilowog snickered. "I remember those days. Bad mask."
Kyle felt uncomfortably aware of his own mask on his face.
"But he dropped it," said Flash.
"He got outed," corrected Katma. "He was really mad, too. He sent me a message, yelling about it."
"I remember that," said Kyle. "Some newspaper did it." He did a quick check of his memory, and he didn't think it had been the Planet.
"Whatever," said Kat. "He was mad. And then he got over it." She patted him on the shoulder. "So will you."
Kyle wanted to object, but Flash was already saying his good-byes to everyone, and Kyle's hand was getting shaken, and Katma and Kilowog had ducked over to give their regards to people before they left. Katma talked in a low voice to Batman for a few minutes, Kyle noticed.
"I don't need to get over it," he said to himself.
"What?" said Flash, who was still standing there.
"Nothing. Hey, can you tell me where I can put this stuff?"
"Ask J'onn or Mr. Terrific." And before Kyle could ask who in the world they were, Flash had zipped away to chat up someone else.
A few minutes later, he was waving good-bye to the other Lanterns. They had their own sectors to patrol. If the Corps stopped working every time a Lantern died, nothing would ever get done. The greatest honor to another Lantern's memory was doing the best job he could, Kilowog had told him. Anyway, they'd had a private wake for John the day before.
Probably the day before. Kyle hadn't been on Earth for more than a three-day stretch at a time in years, and his time-sense was all screwy. It was supposed to be afternoon, and that looked right in the sky, but his body clock was set to Oa Standard and it was not quite lunchtime. With his stuff getting heavier and the room getting less full, he figured he needed to find a place to sit down, a place to put his stuff, and possibly something to eat.
Superman was still standing by the wall, and Kyle hauled his bag over. Superman nodded a greeting, but continued to talk quietly with Batman and Wonder Woman. Kyle wasn't sure if he should interrupt, so he stood there a while, pretending to gravely examine the new stars. Finally, the three of them broke their conversation, and he saw his opportunity. "Superman?"
"Hi, K ---"
"Lantern It's just 'Green Lantern,' okay?"
Superman smiled. "Of course. Well, Lantern, I can't say I'm happy for the circumstances, but it's good to see you again."
"Same here," Kyle said. "Hey, can you tell me where I can put my things?"
"Ask Mr. Terrific or J'onn and they'll set you up." Superman touched his ear. "Superman here."
"But ... " Kyle started.
"I have to go. Excuse me." And he flew off.
The room was almost empty now, and Kyle hadn't seen where most of the Leaguers had gone. A few had gone past them into the Tower proper, but most had simply left, either to the other Watchtower or to their own homes. He looked around, saw a cowboy talking to a knight in swear-to-god shining armor, and figured he'd try his luck there.
"Hey."
The cowboy looked him up and down. "You the new Lantern?"
"That's me. Hi." He stuck out his hand. "Green Lantern. Yes. Hey." The secret identity thing was going to suck.
"Vigilante."
The knight shook his hand gravely. "Sir Justin of the Court of ... " Vigilante poked him in the ribs.
"Call 'im Shining Knight. Everybody else does."
"Hi," said Kyle. "Look, can you tell me where I can put this stuff?"
"You stayin' here?" asked Vigilante.
"I think so. At least for now. I lost the lease on my apartment years ago."
Sir Justin said, "J'onn J'onzz is in charge of League affairs, although Mr. Terrific has deigned to take on some of his responsibilities in J'onn's absence."
"I seen 'em both around today," said Vigilante. "They'll set you up good. C'mon, Ess Kay." And they turned and left.
Kyle stood alone in the front hall of the Metropolis Watchtower, his rucksack still on his back.
Dammit.
The inner door was unlocked, and after a moment, he went through. The outer door to the street had looked pass-coded and sealed, and he knew that if he went out, there was no way he was getting back in without a keycard or an escort, and currently, he had neither.
Inside the rest of the Tower, bare corridors stretched to either side, with windows looking out on the rapidly-purpling skyline over Metropolis Harbor. Afternoon was fading into evening, and the heroes had returned to their heroing.
"Hello?" Kyle called down the corridor to his right. No answer, and he decided to start walking. He'd either run into someone or set off an alarm, and at this point, any attention would be good.
The Tower was eerily quiet and empty, though, and Kyle startled when the lights automatically clicked up to full brightness as the daylight entirely died outside. He'd been to the orbital Watchtower once; the station had bustled with purple techs and multicolored Leaguers and the hum of the power systems keeping the impossible ornament floating along in space. When he'd gone back to Oa, he'd gone through two packs of colored pencils trying to capture it all in sketches before his memories faded.
He'd expected the Earth-based Tower to be even more vivid, an easier stopping-off place between missions for the League and a cozy assignment on the planet for the crew. Instead, as he picked up his pace nervously, this was a crypt, a mausoleum, a place for the wraiths of a dead colleague and his associates to wander, and Kyle had entrapped himself within by some sin, probably pride.
Stewart's voice was in his imagination: You really think you can handle this job, kid?
Kyle shook his head, ridding it of the voice. That was stupid. John had always been a good guy. Kind of a hardass sometimes, sure, but so were all the old-timers, and so Kyle expected to be someday, training snot-nosed kids with new rings. During the rare times they'd been able to just hang out and talk, John had always used the word "when" in regards to Kyle's taking the sector, never "if." Even in Kyle's fevered glow of just being in the same room as another human again, he'd picked up on that. It made the training a little easier sometimes, after John had gone back home and Kyle was still out there, still learning, still screwing up.
Stewart's voice again, kinder this time: No more room for screw-ups. This is your life now.
Or it would be, Kyle supposed, if he could only find someone to tell him where he could sit down. He felt like he'd entered a room where there was a surprise party going on. No one was jumping out, but he felt that there were people nearby if he could just find them.
He turned a corner and found an elevator. "Yes!" Elevators were good. They led to upper levels, where there could be people.
He glanced at the numbers on the panel, picked the second floor as a reasonable guess, and punched it.
Nothing happened.
He punched it again, waiting for the doors to close, anything, and then he noticed the card-access right by the panel. Different people would have different access levels to get to different parts of the Tower. Security procedures. Yay.
Kyle hit his head against the wall of the elevator. Then he dropped his bag and plunked himself onto the floor. Someone would come. Eventually. And then he would ask them who in the hell Mr. Terrific and J'onn were.
***
Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose. This day had been too long. So had the day before it. And the day before that had been almost unbearable. Confrontation after confrontation with the Legion of Doom was leaving the League tired and edgy, not sure when they could relax or what alarum they could trust was a real alert and not another trap.
Clark hadn't honestly believed Metamorpho could be killed, not by anything short of a nuclear detonation, and even then he'd have given the man even odds of pulling through. Doctor Light and Black Canary were still in the infirmary on the orbital Watchtower, but were expected to make full recoveries.
He'd been spending a lot of time over the past couple of days trying not to think about the other two victims of Toyman's snare, trying even harder to block out Grodd's grinning chuckle as he'd pointed out just how thoroughly he'd broken the "Lucky Seven," trying most of all to quell the dark place inside him that whispered his double's methods of punishment and control, just this once, might be for the greater good and not just for vengeance of two beloved friends lost.
He had a headache.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Sunday, and he would go to the church he'd been forgetting to attend lately, and while the minister talked, he would sit and he'd pray for a release from his own anger, hands folded and head bowed like Ma had taught him as a child. And maybe it'd work this time.
He flew onto the roof of the Metro Tower, landing lightly then striding to the rooftop entrance. He swiped his card, opened the door, and walked down the stairway to the Control Room.
Clark nodded a greeting to Wally and Booster, did a quick glance over the day's reports, then went to walk down to the canteen for a bite to eat before he went home.
Question came in the door he was about to walk out, and stopped him.
"Superman."
"Question." They were still not on the best terms after the Cadmus thing. Sure, Clark had saved his life, but the Question still watched him - well, the way he watched everything behind that blank face - with an air of detachment and worry that the future he'd theorized might still come to pass. And nothing Clark could say would ever entirely change his mind.
Question asked, "Did you forget something?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"I found our new Green Lantern asleep in the elevator a few minutes ago."
"What? " The headache wasn't going anywhere. "Where is he now?"
"Still sleeping. He looked tired." Question's face, as usual, gave nothing away.
Clark sighed and went out past Question to the elevator. Sure enough, as the door slid open, Kyle Rayner was just stirring on the floor.
"K - Lantern?"
Kyle sat up and rubbed his head. "Ow. Thought that might work."
"What might work?"
"Staying in the elevator until someone came along."
Clark offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "Why are you sitting in the elevator?"
"Because I don't have a card to activate it. Or the front door." He brushed invisible specks of dust off his uniform.
"Why didn't you use your ring?"
"My ... " Kyle paused. "You don't have alarms against that kind of thing?"
Clark opened his mouth and closed it. "You know, I've never asked."
"By the way, can you please introduce me to the guys you said would give me a room, since I've never met them?"
"You met J'onn last time, I thought. Tall, kind of green?"
"Sounds like half the people I know. You've seen the Corps."
Clark smiled. "True. I'm sorry. I forgot you didn't know anybody. Let me make it up to you?"
"As long as that involves food of some sort, you're on."
"There's a canteen here and a nice cafeteria on the Watchtower." Clark paused. Kyle was a Metropolis boy. "But I know a great steak place downtown if you wouldn't mind going in secret identity mode."
Kyle cracked a grin. "You're on."
"Let me introduce you to a few people first." Clark led him back to the Control Room. Question inclined his head at Kyle, politely declining to shake hands. Booster made up for it by shaking Kyle's hand so hard Clark was sure it would come off; Booster rarely mentioned anything about his life in the future, but Clark knew the man remembered some names.
"Flash, come meet Green Lantern."
"We met," said Wally, not turning away from his monitor. Clark thought about making him come over, and then dropped it. Wally wasn't ready yet.
Clark went to another station and called the Watchtower. "Terrific, you there?"
The screen crackled and then merged into an image: Vibe. "Mr. T's not on tonight, Superman. Anything you need?"
"No, I can do it here. Thanks." He closed the transmission and then pulled up a schematic of the Metro Tower with room assignments. There was a free room on Level Five. He keyed in his own code and got a code for Kyle, printing out a temporary passcard for him at the same time.
"All right," he said, coming back to where Kyle stood, craning his neck around to get a better look. "Code, passcard, you'll get the real ones probably tomorrow."
"Thanks."
"Let's drop your things in your room and then go. We can change on the way."
Question watched them go; Wally never even moved his head.
J'onn is going to have to stay around for a while. And I know who his first appointment needs to be.
***
"Nice fellow," said Question.
Wally didn't say anything. He'd stopped looking at the data readout a while ago. He wasn't supposed to be on watch this evening, but there'd been an opening in the schedule because ...
He wasn't ready to put words around the gaps.
He really wasn't ready for someone else to try to fill one.
Wally hadn't slept in two nights. The first, he'd stayed at the site, digging superfast through rubble and debris, looking for anything and finding nothing. Metamorpho had been easy to see, and Doctor Light had been trapped under a fallen wall, and the rest had been wounded (mostly minor scrapes and bruises, except for Canary, who'd almost lost a leg) in the explosion by flying debris and ...
Words. Gaps.
The second night, last night, he'd tried to sleep and he hadn't been able to, and he'd gotten a call at one am from Hall, who had been as drunk as any man Wally'd ever met, and Wally had run run run as fast as he could to Hall's place, and the alcohol in his bloodstream couldn't keep pace with his metabolism, and he'd spent the night awake and too sober listening to a man he didn't like sob like a child.
And now it was the third night, and Wally was standing a watch because she ...
Because ...
Because.
***
Kyle devoured everything the waiter set in front of him. Superman - no, Clark - had been right; this place was fantastic Still weird, realizing that Superman was actually Mr. Kent. Now that he knew, staring across the table at the guy as he ate his own steak, he saw so many things in common he couldn't imagine not knowing.
Staring. He was staring. Kyle bent back over his plate, scooping up some gravy with another roll. Everything here was delicious and in huge portions, from the enormous potatoes overflowing with butter and sour cream to the hearty steaks, still sizzling on the plates as they stated to eat. Earth food.
"So," said Mr. Kent around a bite of steak. "Are you thinking about coming back to the Planet? I can put in a good word for you with Perry."
"Thanks. I'd like that." He rubbed his head. Then he looked to make sure no one was nearby and said quietly, "The Guardians give us a stipend to live on, based on the local economy. It's not a lot, though."
"John told me about that," said Mr. Kent. "I was wondering how he could afford to be a Lantern full time."
"I thought you were You Know Who full time. Until just now."
Mr. Kent said, "And I'd prefer it stay that way. You know to keep this under your hat?"
"Scout's honor. Nobody would believe me anyway." Kyle played with his roll, tearing it to little bits. "How bad is it?"
"What?"
"You just lost three members, including two founders." There. That was the wince Kyle'd been expecting. "Don't tell me everyone's okay."
Mr. Kent sat back in his booth seat. An expression Kyle didn't recognize crossed his face, and his fingers itched. He wanted his charcoals for this, drawing the most famous face in the world in shades of light and dark. He forced his hands to hold the roll tightly.
"No one's okay," said Mr. Kent after a long time. "Some people are less okay than others."
"I'm coming in blind here. I know you. I knew John. I met a few other people, but I don't really know anyone. Flash already hates me."
"He doesn't. He's just ... He's one of the less okay people right now."
"He shouldn't be on duty, then. One thing Katma drilled into my head was that if you know your emotions are going to guide you instead of your brain, you get the hell out of there before you do something stupid and get someone killed."
Mr. Kent watched his face for a moment. "Smart woman, that Katma," he said after a moment.
"Yeah."
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. Flash insisted on taking the watch tonight. He's on until midnight. The criminal element have been quiet the last few days because they're afraid we're going to go all Justice Lords on the next person to stick a toe out of line."
"Justice who?"
"Don't worry about it," said Mr. Kent, and there was that look on his face again. "He'll come around. Everyone will, eventually. Give them time to adjust. It'd be easier if you told a few of them your name. Some people are going to feel like you're trying to make them choose between you and their memories of John if you insist on using the codename."
"Maybe." Pick. Pick. And now there was nothing left but crumbs. "Who do I stay away from?"
"Hm?"
"Everyone will come around eventually. Fine. But Flash isn't the only one who's not going to be my best friend right off the bat."
"Vixen. Give her room."
"Was she the one at the memorial service?"
Mr. Kent nodded. "She and John were together, but ... " He sighed. "It was complicated, and John managed to complicate it a lot more about two seconds before he died. You're going to hear a lot of rumors about that. Ignore most of them."
"All right. Anyone else?"
"Hawkman, if he decides to stay. He's not officially in the League," Kent lowered his voice, "and to be frank, none of us can really stand him anyway. Don't be surprised if you don't see much of him."
"What about Metamorphing Guy's girl?"
"Metamorpho," said Superman sharply.
"Sorry."
Mr. Kent was tense, and then he tried to relax. Under his suit, Kyle saw the roll of his muscles as they adjusted. An hour, just one hour with Superman and his charcoals under a good light, and Kyle would have three Christmasses all tied up for what he wanted.
"Sapphire is welcome to visit, but she's not in the League."
Kyle had stopped thinking about the League for a moment. "Hey, does Jimmy know? About you, I mean?"
"No one at work does. And again, you need to keep it that way."
"I can. And Mr. Kent?"
"Hm?"
"Thanks for trusting me."
Another smile, like pure sunlight, and Kyle wasn't going to sleep tonight, was going to find paper wherever he could in the Watchtower and draw all night.
"Do your job," said Mr. Kent. "Do it the best you can, every day. Be someone we can trust and rely on. You've got some big shoes to fill but the man who wore them last never had anything but good to say about you. Even if I hadn't already known you, that would be good enough for me."
His voice was thick now, and he looked away, taking a long drink of coffee. Kyle spent time placing his silverware on his plate just so and drinking his soda while Mr. Kent composed himself.
"Come on," said Mr. Kent finally. "I'll walk you back so you don't get lost."
He pulled out some money from his wallet, shooing away Kyle's feeble attempt to pay. Which was good, Kyle supposed, since he had an ATM card for a savings account he hoped was still there, and that was it. The bill and the tip Mr. Kent left was more Earth currency than Kyle had felt in his hands in the last five years.
He had so much to do. He'd try to get his job back, try to find a place to live in Metropolis, try to reestablish himself as an actual person with things like a credit history. Kyle felt sick again.
Mr. Kent glanced at him, and maybe one of Superman's powers was telepathy, because as they walked, he said casually, "We have some contacts who are good at creating identity paper trails, backgrounds, that sort of thing. It comes in really handy for the aliens."
"Aren't you ... ?"
"I'm a special case," he said, and that was all.
They were among the evening crowds tonight, people shopping, talking. It was cold, and Kyle realized he didn't even know what month it was anymore. He stopped, over and over, just staring at the sea of humans on the sidewalks and in their cars, not at all surprised or put out or overjoyed at seeing so many of their own species in one place.
The first time John had come to Oa to check up on him, Kyle had hugged him like a long-lost brother, and that after having only met him twice before. Now there were hundreds, even thousands of humans all around him, not in masks, not in uniforms, just walking by.
It was amazing, and a little scary.
"How do you get used to it?" he asked Mr. Kent.
"Used to what?"
"Being different. Knowing all the things you've seen, all the places you've been, and still being able to walk down a street like this. How do you not feel completely alone?"
Kent shrugged. "You learn."
"I was afraid you were gonna say that."
***
Chapter Two