Fic: Both Sides Now [Hawkman]
Title: Both Sides Now
Author: wabbitseason
Word Count: 1,577 words
Rating: PG maybe
Characters: Carter Hall and Kendra Saunders and various incarnations of same
Summary: Once a tragic love story, always one.
Spoilers: Latest run of Hawkman? Arthurian myths?
Warnings: If you have a problem with reincarnation and its implications, don't read.
High strong notes pierced through the weapons room in the museum.
From his perch on the ladder, Carter Hall cringed involuntarily. At least the local classical station had picked the Flagstad version of that aria, so the top notes weren't so shrill. He should have recognized the song immediately. He had heard it performed enough times. He even remembered being dragged to a performance once. He hadn't liked it then and time hadn't made him change his tune.
"Change the station," Carter called down.
"What?" Kendra Saunders peered up from her work on a display case of small daggers. Either she hadn't noticed the choice of music or she was too lost in her work to notice.
Carter stepped down from the ladder. "Turn it off!" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the reaction was so intense.
"All right, already!" Surprised at his vehemence, Kendra leaned over to switch off the radio, "What's the big deal? I thought you liked classical music."
"Usually," Carter said, "but not that song."
"A little high for my tastes," Kendra admitted, "but the melody was nice."
"The singer wasn't the problem," Carter said. "The song was."
Kendra asked, "You don't like German opera?"
"That was the Liebestod from Wagner's Tristan and Isolde." Carter waited a beat for some recognition.
Kendra continued to work on polishing the display case, "Should that mean something to me? My opera knowledge is a little rusty."
Carter shouldn't have been surprised when there was none forthcoming. Shiera would have known. But while she had Shiera's soul, even her eyes, Kendra still wasn't her. It was disconcerting to say the least. "You really don't remember, do you?"
Kendra said. "My god, is it always about memories with you, Carter? Don't you ever live in the present?"
"I haven't had a present until recently," Carter snapped. "Sorry."
"It was a cheap shot," Kendra admitted. "I shouldn't have said it."
"I promised I wouldn't push the subject," Carter said, "but I can't help it. The littlest things can remind me."
"I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea I was someone else once," Kendra admitted. "I have a hard enough time keeping this life straight."
"Much less countless others?" Carter finished.
"Or even just one other," Kendra said, "the one you want me to remember."
Pain briefly reached Carter's eyes, but he masked it well enough. He didn't deny that he wanted Shiera back. She had been a part of his life for a long time. He had hoped Kendra would be able to tap into those feelings someday. He had come on pretty strong when he first came back, assuming nothing had changed, when everything had. Kendra was still trying to sort herself out and Carter was still adapting to his new life.
"The sooner you learn to accept all your incarnations, the easier the memories will get." Carter stepped down from the ladder, looking around at the weapons exhibit. "I was there once. God, that day feels like a lifetime ago now."
"So how did the memories come back?" Kendra asked. "In fits and starts or all at once like me?"
"I had always been fascinated with history when I was younger. Other times, other places." Carter explained. "So it was natural to wonder the stories surrounding them. At first, I'd get just little flashes out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't explain how I knew things." Carter touched the scabbard of an old sword hanging on the shelf. "I started collecting weapons like this sword. I'd pick up a blade and just know how it should feel it in my hand, its heft and balance. I thought I just had an affinity for weapons, not that I'd actually used them."
"Hath-Set forced the issue when he sent that knife," Carter said. "The knife was made from nth metal, triggered my memories of Khufu and Chay-ara and Hath-Set. I felt like I had woken from a dream. The rest of the memories came back more gradually, not like your experience."
Kendra was surprised. "Hath-Set wanted you to remember?"
Carter said, "Part of his vicious cycle."
"That was how you met her... me," Kendra said.
"A seemingly random encounter at the train station," Carter smiled, recalling the moment when he brushed past Shiera. "We might have passed each other on the street any number of times and never known it. Or maybe it wasn't so random."
"You think we would have met without his interference," Kendra suggested.
"In all probability, yes," Carter said, "but the circumstances might have very different. But he still would have found us eventually. He's done it time and time again, drawing us together and then waiting to strike when we're happiest."
"Hath-Set didn't kill you," Kendra said. "He made you Hawkman instead."
"The better to fight against him and others like him," Carter said, "not the first time I'd done that. Heroes, fighters, warriors, even a few outlaws, but it always came down to the same fight. Sometimes my Chay-ara fought alongside me, sometimes not, but she was always there. Sheira wasn't like the other mystery women. She could have given up being Hawkgirl at any time. But when the war started, she wanted to fight. That was Shiera for you."
"We have that much in common," Kendra admitted.
Carter grinned, "More than that."
"She wanted to be with you," Kendra said after a moment. "She didn't know how many chances she'd get." At his surprise, Kendra said. "I don't need to have her memories to know that, Carter. If she loved you as deeply as you say, then nothing would keep her from you, a World War or a glowing evil eye. Or..." Kendra stopped, lost in some half forgotten memory. "What was I saying?"
"You were remembering, weren't you?" Carter asked.
"I must have read about the case at the brownstone," Kendra said.
Carter shrugged. "Whatever you say." He wasn't going to push it. He had no real desire to revisit that particular wartime memory, if it was the one he thought it was. Together they had fought Dr. Anton Hastor in body and spirit. Had their encounter with Hath-Set's latest incarnation triggered the memory? Or was she just experiencing one of those momentary flashes of insight again?
"Have I fought without you before?" Kendra asked. At his discomfort, she continued. "I have, haven't I? You had to worry about me in one life, didn't you?"
Carter said, "I always worried about you. But yes, there were a few lives when I had to sit the fight out."
"You loved that," Kendra grinned.
"No, I hated every minute of it," Carter said. "But I wasn't given a choice. I can't choose who I come back as. It's a roll of the dice. One life I'm a knight and the next I'm the princess."
Kendra turned around, "You were a woman once?" She was trying not to laugh. He could see the smirk playing across her face. She was enjoying this.
"I wasn't the only one who was different," Carter said.
"You mean, I was... Really?" Kendra looked shocked. "Wow."
"Is that so hard to believe?" Carter asked. "Hath-Set has returned as a woman. Why should our souls be any different?"
"I bet you made a pretty girl," Kendra teased. "Or at least a striking one."
"And you made a strapping lad yourself," Carter retorted. "Didn't you ever wonder why you were so good with that?" He pointed to the mace Kendra had lifted off its hook to arrange more securely on the wall. "You used one pretty effectively once."
"Split someone's shield in two," Kendra hefted the mace in her hands. He could see Kendra standing in her armor, shield ready to block any attackers.
"Morholt," Carter said. "Malory referred to him as Marhaus."
"Wasn't Malory the guy who wrote about Arthur and the Round Table?" Kendra asked, still staring at the mace.
"The same," Carter said. "Morholt was an Irish count. He was supposed to be one of the best knights, almost as good as Gawain."
"Gawain was faster," Kendra said immediately.
Carter didn't have an answer for that observation. "Morholt was my uncle."
"And I killed him," Kendra put the mace back up on the wall.
"He nearly killed you," Carter countered. "His sword was poisoned, but only his sister, my mother, could heal your wounds. Her name was the same as mine."
Kendra breathed. "Isolde."
"Once a tragic love story, always one," Carter nodded.
"No wonder you hate that music," Kendra said.
"I don't hate it," Carter said. "It's just painful."
Kendra said, "You feel like you're losing her all over again."
"Hath-Set was particularly cruel, toying with you," Carter said. "He wanted you to doubt me, perhaps question our love even, but you never did. Tristan never wavered from his Isolde." He gave a rueful laugh. "I used to be embarrassed talking about that time. Here I was the big strong warrior in the time of King Arthur and I wasn't even the knight. Maybe that was something I needed to learn."
"Besides how hard it is to wear frilly dresses," Kendra teased.
"And that, too," Carter admitted. "I never could give Shiera a hard time for taking forever to get ready for a date."
Kendra laughed. Not Shiera's laugh, but a pretty one all the same. "Life is full of irony, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is," Carter said.
Author's Notes:
I blame kerithwyn on this insanity completely. Of all the Hawks, Carter and Kendra are my least favorite, so writing reincarnation angst was not what I imagined. It was decidedly not the funny I intended. I also blame my obsessiveness over the Golden Age Hawkman. Some people dislike the reincarnations. I like them, but sometimes it strains credulity that Khufu was every historical hero in the DC Universe. It has been suggested in the pages of Hawkman that during the Arthurian era, he was actually the Silent Knight. On the other hand, the Tristan and Isolde story predated some of the Arthurian stories, so it's entirely possible that incarnation came before. Or something like that...
I've probably mangled the Arthurian myths badly, but there are a ton of variations on the Tristan and Isolde myth. Malory wrote one, history wrote another, and probably the Hawks knew the actual story.
The eagle eyed veteran All Star Squadron reader will recall the adventure of #10-12 where they battled Dr. Anton Hastor and his Flying Eye.
Author: wabbitseason
Word Count: 1,577 words
Rating: PG maybe
Characters: Carter Hall and Kendra Saunders and various incarnations of same
Summary: Once a tragic love story, always one.
Spoilers: Latest run of Hawkman? Arthurian myths?
Warnings: If you have a problem with reincarnation and its implications, don't read.
High strong notes pierced through the weapons room in the museum.
From his perch on the ladder, Carter Hall cringed involuntarily. At least the local classical station had picked the Flagstad version of that aria, so the top notes weren't so shrill. He should have recognized the song immediately. He had heard it performed enough times. He even remembered being dragged to a performance once. He hadn't liked it then and time hadn't made him change his tune.
"Change the station," Carter called down.
"What?" Kendra Saunders peered up from her work on a display case of small daggers. Either she hadn't noticed the choice of music or she was too lost in her work to notice.
Carter stepped down from the ladder. "Turn it off!" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the reaction was so intense.
"All right, already!" Surprised at his vehemence, Kendra leaned over to switch off the radio, "What's the big deal? I thought you liked classical music."
"Usually," Carter said, "but not that song."
"A little high for my tastes," Kendra admitted, "but the melody was nice."
"The singer wasn't the problem," Carter said. "The song was."
Kendra asked, "You don't like German opera?"
"That was the Liebestod from Wagner's Tristan and Isolde." Carter waited a beat for some recognition.
Kendra continued to work on polishing the display case, "Should that mean something to me? My opera knowledge is a little rusty."
Carter shouldn't have been surprised when there was none forthcoming. Shiera would have known. But while she had Shiera's soul, even her eyes, Kendra still wasn't her. It was disconcerting to say the least. "You really don't remember, do you?"
Kendra said. "My god, is it always about memories with you, Carter? Don't you ever live in the present?"
"I haven't had a present until recently," Carter snapped. "Sorry."
"It was a cheap shot," Kendra admitted. "I shouldn't have said it."
"I promised I wouldn't push the subject," Carter said, "but I can't help it. The littlest things can remind me."
"I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea I was someone else once," Kendra admitted. "I have a hard enough time keeping this life straight."
"Much less countless others?" Carter finished.
"Or even just one other," Kendra said, "the one you want me to remember."
Pain briefly reached Carter's eyes, but he masked it well enough. He didn't deny that he wanted Shiera back. She had been a part of his life for a long time. He had hoped Kendra would be able to tap into those feelings someday. He had come on pretty strong when he first came back, assuming nothing had changed, when everything had. Kendra was still trying to sort herself out and Carter was still adapting to his new life.
"The sooner you learn to accept all your incarnations, the easier the memories will get." Carter stepped down from the ladder, looking around at the weapons exhibit. "I was there once. God, that day feels like a lifetime ago now."
"So how did the memories come back?" Kendra asked. "In fits and starts or all at once like me?"
"I had always been fascinated with history when I was younger. Other times, other places." Carter explained. "So it was natural to wonder the stories surrounding them. At first, I'd get just little flashes out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't explain how I knew things." Carter touched the scabbard of an old sword hanging on the shelf. "I started collecting weapons like this sword. I'd pick up a blade and just know how it should feel it in my hand, its heft and balance. I thought I just had an affinity for weapons, not that I'd actually used them."
"Hath-Set forced the issue when he sent that knife," Carter said. "The knife was made from nth metal, triggered my memories of Khufu and Chay-ara and Hath-Set. I felt like I had woken from a dream. The rest of the memories came back more gradually, not like your experience."
Kendra was surprised. "Hath-Set wanted you to remember?"
Carter said, "Part of his vicious cycle."
"That was how you met her... me," Kendra said.
"A seemingly random encounter at the train station," Carter smiled, recalling the moment when he brushed past Shiera. "We might have passed each other on the street any number of times and never known it. Or maybe it wasn't so random."
"You think we would have met without his interference," Kendra suggested.
"In all probability, yes," Carter said, "but the circumstances might have very different. But he still would have found us eventually. He's done it time and time again, drawing us together and then waiting to strike when we're happiest."
"Hath-Set didn't kill you," Kendra said. "He made you Hawkman instead."
"The better to fight against him and others like him," Carter said, "not the first time I'd done that. Heroes, fighters, warriors, even a few outlaws, but it always came down to the same fight. Sometimes my Chay-ara fought alongside me, sometimes not, but she was always there. Sheira wasn't like the other mystery women. She could have given up being Hawkgirl at any time. But when the war started, she wanted to fight. That was Shiera for you."
"We have that much in common," Kendra admitted.
Carter grinned, "More than that."
"She wanted to be with you," Kendra said after a moment. "She didn't know how many chances she'd get." At his surprise, Kendra said. "I don't need to have her memories to know that, Carter. If she loved you as deeply as you say, then nothing would keep her from you, a World War or a glowing evil eye. Or..." Kendra stopped, lost in some half forgotten memory. "What was I saying?"
"You were remembering, weren't you?" Carter asked.
"I must have read about the case at the brownstone," Kendra said.
Carter shrugged. "Whatever you say." He wasn't going to push it. He had no real desire to revisit that particular wartime memory, if it was the one he thought it was. Together they had fought Dr. Anton Hastor in body and spirit. Had their encounter with Hath-Set's latest incarnation triggered the memory? Or was she just experiencing one of those momentary flashes of insight again?
"Have I fought without you before?" Kendra asked. At his discomfort, she continued. "I have, haven't I? You had to worry about me in one life, didn't you?"
Carter said, "I always worried about you. But yes, there were a few lives when I had to sit the fight out."
"You loved that," Kendra grinned.
"No, I hated every minute of it," Carter said. "But I wasn't given a choice. I can't choose who I come back as. It's a roll of the dice. One life I'm a knight and the next I'm the princess."
Kendra turned around, "You were a woman once?" She was trying not to laugh. He could see the smirk playing across her face. She was enjoying this.
"I wasn't the only one who was different," Carter said.
"You mean, I was... Really?" Kendra looked shocked. "Wow."
"Is that so hard to believe?" Carter asked. "Hath-Set has returned as a woman. Why should our souls be any different?"
"I bet you made a pretty girl," Kendra teased. "Or at least a striking one."
"And you made a strapping lad yourself," Carter retorted. "Didn't you ever wonder why you were so good with that?" He pointed to the mace Kendra had lifted off its hook to arrange more securely on the wall. "You used one pretty effectively once."
"Split someone's shield in two," Kendra hefted the mace in her hands. He could see Kendra standing in her armor, shield ready to block any attackers.
"Morholt," Carter said. "Malory referred to him as Marhaus."
"Wasn't Malory the guy who wrote about Arthur and the Round Table?" Kendra asked, still staring at the mace.
"The same," Carter said. "Morholt was an Irish count. He was supposed to be one of the best knights, almost as good as Gawain."
"Gawain was faster," Kendra said immediately.
Carter didn't have an answer for that observation. "Morholt was my uncle."
"And I killed him," Kendra put the mace back up on the wall.
"He nearly killed you," Carter countered. "His sword was poisoned, but only his sister, my mother, could heal your wounds. Her name was the same as mine."
Kendra breathed. "Isolde."
"Once a tragic love story, always one," Carter nodded.
"No wonder you hate that music," Kendra said.
"I don't hate it," Carter said. "It's just painful."
Kendra said, "You feel like you're losing her all over again."
"Hath-Set was particularly cruel, toying with you," Carter said. "He wanted you to doubt me, perhaps question our love even, but you never did. Tristan never wavered from his Isolde." He gave a rueful laugh. "I used to be embarrassed talking about that time. Here I was the big strong warrior in the time of King Arthur and I wasn't even the knight. Maybe that was something I needed to learn."
"Besides how hard it is to wear frilly dresses," Kendra teased.
"And that, too," Carter admitted. "I never could give Shiera a hard time for taking forever to get ready for a date."
Kendra laughed. Not Shiera's laugh, but a pretty one all the same. "Life is full of irony, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is," Carter said.
Author's Notes:
I blame kerithwyn on this insanity completely. Of all the Hawks, Carter and Kendra are my least favorite, so writing reincarnation angst was not what I imagined. It was decidedly not the funny I intended. I also blame my obsessiveness over the Golden Age Hawkman. Some people dislike the reincarnations. I like them, but sometimes it strains credulity that Khufu was every historical hero in the DC Universe. It has been suggested in the pages of Hawkman that during the Arthurian era, he was actually the Silent Knight. On the other hand, the Tristan and Isolde story predated some of the Arthurian stories, so it's entirely possible that incarnation came before. Or something like that...
I've probably mangled the Arthurian myths badly, but there are a ton of variations on the Tristan and Isolde myth. Malory wrote one, history wrote another, and probably the Hawks knew the actual story.
The eagle eyed veteran All Star Squadron reader will recall the adventure of #10-12 where they battled Dr. Anton Hastor and his Flying Eye.