#something about kyle always getting shot/stabbed in the chest…the heart

[oceanicairways]

“time to get serious” -> fucking dies

[romanticintheory]

thinking about simon riley being betrayed by reader.

simon "ghost" riley x reader

-when you first joined the task force, you were a breath of fresh air.

-you were extremely good at what you did and had great chemistry with everyone. even simon.

-kyle loved having you as his new training buddy. the two of you found that your music tastes surprisingly overlapped, so you'd often share playlists with each other.

-johnny was, as always, excited to have someone new to banter with. if he had to take a shot for every time you made him laugh, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning.

-john was relieved seeing you integrate so well into his team. it was like introducing a new puppy to three of his own. when laswell sat him down and introduced your file, a little barren compared to the others (save for simon) but with a raving review from the woman herself, he was curious to see your character.

-and even if he didn't show it, simon was the most grateful for your arrival. there was just an unspoken level of understanding between the two of you.

-one day, you're kneeling next to him on the floor trying to put pressure on his wound and keep him alive long enough for help to arrive. you didn't know each other extremely well, but you seemed so upset. he couldn't imagine why.

-"hey, now, don't go quiet on me, lt," you said in an almost begging tone.

-"you must not know me well," he replied, fighting groans from the pain.

-you ignore his attempt at amusing you. "tell me something," you order, voice starting to crack.

-so, he did. maybe it was the fact that he was lightheaded from the blood loss and half delusional, or maybe it was that he wanted to feel closer to you, but he ended up telling you about his family. he talked about the monster of a man his father was, how he learned to throw him out and take care of his family, and how not even that had a happy ending.

-by the end of it, there was a voice on the other end of your radio telling you they were less than a minute away from help. you slipped your hand into his and told him, "if you can survive that, you can survive this."

-it wasn't until after he recovered that he found out you had your own stab wound to take care of. why you completely disregarded it in favor of his, he'll never know.

-ever since, there was a change in the air between you two. fleeting glances, lingering touches, warm faces. it got even worse when you confessed your feelings to each other, and johnny made sure to be as obnoxious about it as possible.

-for a long time before you, simon felt a kind of loneliness within him. sure, the rest of the team was good company and he'd trust them with his life, but you seemed to do more than just break down his walls. somehow, you seeped through the cracks in his heart and made a home of it. that's why he is so surprised when everyone is taken prisoner except you after an unexpected ambush.

-the surprise eventually turns into something worse.

-there's a blinding rage surging in his veins and an icy coldness in his heart when he catches a glimpse of you acting buddy-buddy with the enemy.

-you're called a name he had never heard before, "(y/n) (l/n)," and being congratulated on your return.

-"knew you'd never disappoint us! and four of 'em, too!"

-how could you to this to them? to him?

-he spends the next excruciatingly long hours as a prisoner with no sleep. the only thing on his mind is wondering what went wrong. what did he miss? what could he have done differently? for a second, he wants to think about how he'd get vengeance on you, but he couldn't. his mind wouldn't let him, and he cursed himself for it. were you that good at manipulation? at seducing him with your supposed love and humanity that, even now, he can't think of you with ill intent without that sour feeling in his chest haunting him?

-he thinks he's hallucinating when he sees you standing at the now unlocked door to his cell with the rest of the task force standing behind you. you speak in a quick, hushed whisper, as if there was barely any time to even say a single word.

-"you'll have to be quick if you want to get out of here."

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. IX

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 -  S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4

Word-count: 3.4k+

With everything that was going on, the last thing you felt like doing was going to cross country practice, but if you were going to be on the team then you couldn't miss the training. Plus, you figured that since all your friends were on the team that it would be the closest to normal you’d get this school year. 

You were standing with Isaac,  rambling on about your bio class while he tied his shoelaces. He started tensing up somewhere between extra credit and the report due in a few weeks, and you nudged him gently with your foot. “Isaac? Are you even listening, bud?”

He didn’t even look at you as he answered - rather vaguely - “They’re here.” 

“Who’s here?” you asked gently, bending down to touch his back gently. He still wasn’t snapping out of it. 

“It’s them.” He nodded in the direction of the twins and stood up. “The alphas.” 

You were still trying to figure out what he was on about when he took off after them. Scott ran past you and you mumbled some choice words under your breath before following them. They were long gone in just a few minutes. You gave up chasing them and made your way back to the group. 

By the time you found everyone, they were standing around some tree in a clearing. You looked for Stiles and wandered over to him, but you stopped just short of him when you saw the dead body they were surrounding. “Oh, god.” 

“Y/N?” Stiles turned to look at you, seemingly surprised to find you. “Oh, jeez, you’re still not good with dead bodies, huh?” You shook your head and he put his hands on your shoulders. “Okay, look at me. I’m going to take you to sit down, alright?”

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. I just … do we know who it is? The- the guy that Scott said was missing? Kyle?”

“I don’t know. Scott was the one that saw him that night.” Stiles sighed and looked over your shoulder. “Scott’s heading back this way with a very pissed looking Isaac. Just hang in a few more minutes, okay? Then I’ll get you out of here.” 

You nodded and shifted once they made their way over. You leaned into Stiles as he caught Scott and Isaac up, and Scott confirmed that the dead body was Kyle. When Noah and the rest of the cops came, Stiles let go of you to go talk to his dad and you held onto Scott. “So what happened back there?” You asked quietly. 

“The twins are part of the alpha pack.” He kept his voice low so no one else heard. “They were gonna hurt Isaac.”

“Yeah, or worse.” You looked over at Isaac and he seemed okay, but you could tell he was still jittery. You snapped out of your daze when you heard Coach’s booming voice.

“You heard the man: Nothing to see here!” Coach yelled when asked to help clear the area. “Probably just some homeless kid.” 

“Coach,” Scott said. “He was a senior.” 

Regret immediately flooded Coach’s face and you actually felt kind of bad for him. “Oh … Well, he wasn’t on the team, was he?” 

Your sympathy dried up and you were going to snap at him when a blonde girl came running up to the tree, screaming Kyle’s name. One of the deputies had to restrain her. You looked away and Scott tugged on your sleeve to get your attention. The four of you were heading back to the school.

“Did you see the way the twins looked at him?” Isaac asked, still glaring over his shoulder at them. 

“Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?” Stiles asked. 

“No, no. They knew.” You bumped Isaac’s arm lightly to bring his attention forward again. 

“The kid was strangled with a garrote, okay? Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolfitude in these murders?” Stiles asked, motioning with his hands to make his point. 

“No, but you’re the only one recognizing it so loudly,” you mumbled. 

“So you guys think it’s a coincidence they turn up-” Isaac looked back again “- and then people start dying?”

“No, but I still don’t think it’s them.” 

“Scott,” you interrupted their argument. “What do you think?” 

The four of you came to stop and both Isaac and Stiles were waiting for him to take their side. The conflict made you a little uncomfortable but you ignored it. 

“I don’t know yet,” Scott said eventually, not doing much to dissipate the tension. 

“You don’t know yet?” Stiles echoed, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Well, Isaac’s got a point,” Scott started, and upon seeing Stiles’ betrayed reaction he continued, “Seriously, dude, human sacrifices?”

“Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow sticks, okay? Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now, it would just magically heal,” Stiles said. “But you’re telling me that you’re having trouble grasping human sacrifices?” 

Scott sighed and turned to Isaac. “That’s a good point, too.”

“I don’t care,” Isaac said. “They killed that kid. They killed the girl that saved me. And I’m gonna kill them too.” 

You shared a look with Stiles before Isaac started walking away, and with a huff you followed after him. “Jesus, Isaac. A few months with the Hales and suddenly you’ve got a flair for the dramatics?” 

---

“So what do you think of all this?” you asked Stiles. You were leaning on one of the lockers while he scoured Kyle’s for clues. “Come on, you really think I don't see those gears turning in there?”

Stiles laughed under his breath and looked at you. “I don’t know. I spoke to his girlfriend and he's not a virgin like the others. He's still one of them, though. One of the sacrifices.”

“Well, it’s the threefold death, right? What if this is a new set of three?”

“Yeah, but what’s the set? High school seniors? Guys who wear leather jackets?” He was going to keep going - no doubt with something more inappropriate - but he stopped when he saw Boyd coming up to put something on Kyle’s locker. 

“Boyd, you’re back!” You pulled him into a hug. “Isaac didn’t mention you were starting school again.”

“Yeah, I would’ve told you but, uh…” Boyd looked behind you and to Stiles, not finishing his sentence. He looked like he was going to say something but then thought better of it. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

“Hey, wait, so did you, uh- did you know Kyle?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, we were in Junior ROTC together,” Boyd answered.

“So you were friends?” you asked with a small smile. Losing Erica was hard enough, but losing another friend within the span of two months sounded awful. 

“I only had one friend.” Boyd looked down to where your hand was on his arm. “She’s dead, too.” You let your hand fall away then watched him leave.

Turning back to Stiles, you sucked in a breath. “That was …” 

“Intense.”

“And not very informative.” You ran a hand through your hair and bumped Stiles’ arm with your elbow, giving him a smile. “I’ve got to go check on Isaac. He’s got detention with Allison and someone needs to make sure they don't kill each other.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Stiles laughed. “I need to talk to Lydia anyway … We still on for free period later?”

“Since you so rudely stole my lunch period to snoop, I think it’s only fair you take me out for something to eat.” You gave him another smile before turning to find wherever they holed up Isaac. 

You saw Scott running to one of the supply closets and followed after him. He dragged a vending machine out of the way, pulled open the door, and the next thing you saw Isaac had been thrown into the wall opposite the closet. He was turning. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” you whispered, pulling him closer. “Calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

You rubbed his arms gently to get him to calm down, and you could see that he was trying desperately to change back. Scott yelled his name to try and force him to change, but all it really did was annoy you. When you looked up to snap at him, you saw that Allison had been cut. 

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” Allison insisted. Scott was holding her arm, and though the cuts didn’t look that deep, you knew they hurt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to do that,” Isaac stammered. You were still holding him close and could feel his heart beating about a mile a minute in his chest.

“I’m okay,” Allison promised. 

“I’m so sorry.” Isaac was cycling through stages of guilt and trying to push you away but also hold you closer at the same time. It was definitely a little weird but he used to do something similar when he was younger.

“It’s not his fault,” Allsion said when Scott didn’t look like he was calming down. 

“I know,” he said. “I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt.” 

“So are we going to do something?” Isaac asked. His heart rate had come down and he stopped pushing you away. 

“Yeah.” Scott nodded. “We’re gonna get them angry. Really angry.”

You and Isaac got up, huddling closer to Scott and Allison. While they came up with a plan, you cleaned up Allison’s wound with the first aid kit you had in your bag. 

“Well, uh, as much as I’d like to be a part of this,” you said, waving your finger between the four of you, “I’ve got geometry in like five minutes and I really don’t need any more disciplinary hearings on my record.” 

Allison smiled at you. “Don’t worry about it, trouble maker. We can handle it from here.”

---

“You’re out of school early,” Deaton said when you and Stiles entered the animal clinic. You weren’t sure when lunch had turned into a side-quest, but you went along with it anyway. 

“We’ve got a free period,” you smiled. 

“Yeah, we were, uh, gonna grab lunch and go see my dad,” Stiles said. “He’s uh- you know, I guess you probably heard people are getting kind of murdered again. It’s his job to figure it out.” 

“I gathered as much from the sheriff title.” 

“Yeah, but, uh, Stiles has been kind of worried about him lately. He got fired for a little bit not too long ago because it’s, uh- it’s kind of hard for him to figure stuff out when he doesn’t know everything,” you said, brushing some hair behind your ear. 

“So I started thinking, and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information,” Stiles continued. “Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here. You.” 

Deaton nodded like he was expecting this to happen at some point. He motioned for you guys to follow him to the back. Stiles kept talking as you did. 

“All these symbols and things - the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash - all of it is from the Celtic druids,” he went on. “And anyone who’s ever looked up human sacrifices before knows that the druids had a pretty big hard-on when it came to giving one up to the gods.” You stopped in front of the examination table. “You ever hear of the Lindow Man?” He described how the body was found with the threefold death injuries, and you placed a hand gently on his shoulders. 

“Stiles, uh, maybe we should let Deaton talk for a bit,” you suggested. 

“They also found grains of pollen in his stomach,” Deaton said to Stiles. “Grains of mistletoe.” 

“So I’m just telling you stuff you already know?” Stiles asked and Deaton nodded. “Then why aren’t you telling us?”

“Maybe because when you’ve spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away.” Deaton looked like he was choosing his words very carefully before saying them. “Denying it. Lying about it. It becomes a pretty powerful habit.” 

The three of you were quiet for a minute, and you were watching Stiles bite back any insults or sarcastic comments. You stepped in before he had the chance to find his favorite. “So the person doing this, they’re a druid, right?” 

“No,” Deaton said, much to your confusion. “It’s someone copying a centuries-old practice of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word ‘druid’ means in gaelic?” 

“No,” Stiles said. 

“In proto-celtic, it roughly translates to ‘tree-knower,’” you said. “I’ve, uh, been doing some reading since this all started.” 

Deaton nodded. “Very good, but a direct translation is ‘wise oak.’ The celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars, but they weren’t serial killers.”

“Yeah, well, this one is,” Stiles said. His phone started ringing and he sighed. The caller ID told you it was Lydia and you told him to get it. You walked over to Deaton’s side of the table in the meantime to talk to him some more, but neither of you got the chance because when Stiles said the word ‘missing’ both of you turned to look at him. 

After a little convincing, you got Deaton to come back to school with you and you met Lydia in the music room. She still looked pretty freaked out about it, but she showed you the recording she’d found anyway.

“Can we get a copy of this?” Deaton asked when the recording finished playing. Lydia nodded and sent it to him. 

“Hey, Doc, any help would be, you know, helpful,” Stiles said while he rummaged through the teacher’s desk drawers. You rolled your eyes.

“Each grouping of three would have its own purpose, its own type of power. Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors-” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Stiles stood up to look at him. “Warrior, could that also be like a soldier?” He looked over at you.

“Kyle was in Junior ROTC,” you explained and Stiles showed everyone a photo of the teacher on his wedding day in his uniform. 

“That’s got to be it. That’s the pattern.” Deaton looked at the photograph. “Where’s Boyd?” 

“He’s probably home by now but I’m gonna try and get him on the phone.” Stiles rushed out and you looked over at Lydia. 

“Lyd, you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet,” you said gently. 

“Yeah, it was- I mean … I just thought of someone else with a military connection,” she told you. Deaton asked who she thought of. “Harris.”

The four of you shared anxious looks before deciding to rush over to Harris’ classroom. No one was there. You couldn’t tell if that made you feel relieved or not. 

“Maybe he just went home for the day,” you said, but even you could tell that your words were hollow. 

“Yeah, well…” Stiles went over to the desk and pulled out his briefcase. You’d never seen Harris without it. “Not without this.” You watched him open the case and remove its content. You leaned over the desk to see what he was frowning at. 

“What?” Deaton asked. 

“This test is graded ‘R,’” you told him. 

“This one’s an ‘H.’” Lydia held up another test. 

You and Stiles started splaying out all the tests to look for grades that didn’t make sense, but Deaton came over and rearranged the order. 

“Do you remember I told you ‘druid’ was the Gaelic word for ‘wise oak?’” he asked. You and Stiles nodded. “If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak. There’s a Gaelic word for that as well: Darach.” 

--- 

Stiles ended up taking you home after ransacking Harris’ classroom. He stopped at a fast food place on the way because your stomach was making the loudest noises in the car. The two of you were quiet as you poked at your food and watched Stiles dunk a fry into his milkshake. 

“You’re quiet,” he said between chews. 

“I just can’t believe he’s dead. I mean, I didn’t like Harris. And I barely knew him but it still … still hurts. Still feels like I lost something.” You took a sip of your drink. 

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s also because Erica’s gone now. All this death is just-” 

“Smothering.” He looked at you with this shocked expression on his face so you gave him a small smile. “I’ll get through it, but I- we shouldn’t have to, Stiles.” You didn’t realize your hand was reaching across the table until it met Stiles’ half way. “We’re just kids.” 

“If we don’t, who will? You think Peter gives half a rat’s ass about anyone who isn’t him?” he asked. You knew he meant it to be encouraging but it just stung. 

“I don’t know,” you said eventually. 

The restaurant was quiet - just after the lunch rush had died down - and for a moment it felt like it was only you and Stiles in the whole building, holding hands and grieving. 

“I can still hear her, you know?” Your voice was barely even a whisper. “People laughing in the hallways, when my feet hit the pavement as I run, when Isaac says something dumb I can practically feel her reaching over and slapping the back of his head.” Your voice cracked. “And every time I see Boyd it just-” 

“It reminds you of her,” Stiles finished for you. “And it hurts like a bitch. I wanna tell you that it’s gonna go away, but it doesn’t. It gets less but it- it’s still there. It’s a reminder that you’re alive. And you’re here. And I’m here too. And Erica … she’d want you to be happy.” 

You honestly didn’t know how to respond, so all you did was nod. 

You watched Stiles sink back into his seat, taking his hand with him. “You wanna take these to go and get out of here? This booth is kind of depressing now.” 

---

You and Melissa were cuddled up together on the couch. It had been a long day for both of you. She was playing absent-mindedly with your hair when you heard Scott’s voice, and then you both twisted around to get a better look at him. “Hey, Mom?” Isaac was with him. “Is it okay if Isaac stays with us for a little while?” 

“What happened?” You and Melissa asked at the same time. You got up to get closer to them. You knew Isaac was physically fine - superhuman healing and all that - but you still felt yourself checking him like when you were younger. 

Isaac caught your hands when they started drifting down his arms and stopped you. “Derek kicked me out.”

“He did what?” Melissa asked at the same time that you threatened Derek with bodily arm. 

Isaac smiled gently at you and looked back at your mom. “It’s just a little crowded now that Cora’s there.” 

“Right.” Melissa took a breath, thinking it over, and then smiled at you. “Get him settled while I talk to Scott?”

You nodded and took Isaac to the kitchen. You made some tea while Isaac started opening up about what happened. You guys had a routine for this by now. 

“He threw a glass at you?” You pushed the mug into his hand. He focused on the drink instead of looking at you. 

“I wasn’t listening to him. I- I was arguing with him.” 

“Isaac, you know that’s not a reason for someone to throw a glass at you.” You tried your best to be gentle but your blood was boiling. You couldn’t do anything about his dad but you were perfectly willing to beat up Derek if you could. 

“Y/N, it’s not that simple. He-”

“You guys look cozy,” Melissa said with a smile as she came into the kitchen with Scott. “So, Scott told me what happened and it’s perfectly okay if you wanna stay here.” Isaac started thanking her but she kept going. “We don’t have a spare room so you’d have to stay with Scott but other than that … it's okay with me.” 

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McCall.”

“Melissa, please. Mrs. McCall was … well, my mother-in-law. And I don’t wanna be my mother-in-law.” You laughed and Melissa shook her head. “So, did you guys make some for all of us?”

[profitinaecho]

Echo Appreciation Day 3- Strawberry Wine

“Your mouth is mind blowing, Liz.” Max is sweaty, laying flat on his back next to his fiance, Liz.

“Yours is too.” Liz stretches out next to him, exhausted from their bedroom shenanigans. Both of their hair is an absolute mess from excited fingers running through it. Max is flushed and breathing heavily. It might be the lighting, but it kind of looks like his chest and stomach are red and splotchy. “Uhm, is this normal?” Liz swears he doesn’t usually get flushed like that.

Max glances down at her hand near his almost erect, hot pink peen. “You’re naked and all I can taste and smell is you. Of course it is normal for me to be hard.”

“No, this.” Liz gestures at the growing red splotches and welts traveling from his mouth, to his nipples to his abdomen to his penis. “Are you having an allergic reaction? Oh my god. Are you allergic to me?!”

“What? Dead gummit!” Max jumps up, running his hand from his pecs to his peen and itching idly.

“I thought you couldn’t get sick! What are you having an allergic reaction to?”

“Strawberries make me feel itchy. But that was before…” Max thinks back before he was given a heart transplant and how his taste buds always just seemed to avoid things with berries.

Liz looks over at her styrofoam take out cup from The Crashdown in horror. “I had a strawberry milkshake on my way home! We were out of mint.”

Max rolls out of bed and grimaces when he gets a good look at himself. His penis is large on a normal day but right now, it is very swollen and definitely the wrong color.

“Dios mio! Where did we put that epipen for emergencies?” Liz starts frantically opening, digging around, and closing the drawers in the bathroom. Finding benedryl, she tosses it at him- missing and hitting him square in the forehead with it. “Here. Take that.”

Dialing Kyle, Liz feels herself starting to panic. “Kyle? Are you off work? Max ate something he was allergic to and is covered in hives.” She listens to him intently for a while. “Ok, I gave him benedryl. Max, he says to hop in the shower and wash your skin. Do you remember where I put the epipen after his heart procedure?” Liz checks the sock drawer and sure enough, there it is like Kyle said. Kyle promises he is on his way and reminds her of how to give an adrenaline shot.

Taking the cap off the epipen, Liz walks into the bathroom where Max is showering and slides open the shower door. “I’m so sorry, Max.” Liz warns him, before stabbing him quickly in his thigh and counting to thirty.

“And the evening started off so nice.” Max laughs, before feeling the adrenaline enter his blood stream and feeling keyed up and less itchy.

_______________

“Oh man.” Kyle pauses, entering the master bedroom and seeing Max covered in welts and swollen. “That’s one heck of an allergic reaction. You’re covered in hives. Isn’t that itchy?”

“Yes, and yes.” Max replies dryly. The worst of the itching is below his belly button. Based on how uncomfortable he is, Max is nervous about what it looks like down there.

Kyle begins by inspecting Max’s face and looking inside his mouth. “Okay, so your tongue isn’t swelling so I don’t think you’re going to go into anaphylaxis but we might want to have you tested for allergies.” He holds Max’s chin and inspects it, tilting his face from side to side. “So you said this was from strawberries? What’d you do? Smear them all over your face?” Kyle laughs once, then coughs as he realizes how Max got that way. “It’s all down your neck too. How far down, exactly, do these welts go?”

“Uh, it uh…” Max stammers.

“From his lips to his balls, Kyle. Everything is welts.” Liz pipes up helpfully while Max side eyes her.

Kyle confirms that he already was given an adrenaline shot and benedryl before handing him two tubes- one with anti itch cream and one with cortisone cream. “Next time, tell Liz not to eat strawberries before you get busy. It’ll save you alot of discomfort and me from having to drive out here. I’ll set you up with allergy tests one day this week.” Max shakes Kyle’s hand and Liz promises to keep her strawberries to herself.

[pastelwitchling]

This prompt request is courtesy of @taki-nee-chan.

Hey so prompt for malex, them talking and working through their issues. Michael finding out that Jesse hurt Alex after the shed incident. P.s. Love your writing ❤️❤️

***

“I shouldn’t be here,” Michael said, and Alex sighed, his arms crossed.

               “No,” he said, exhaustion evident on his face, “the only one that shouldn’t be here is me.”

               “Then why are you?”

               “Look, Max asked me to come, so I came. After what he did to save Rosa, I owe him something.”

               Michael tried not to show his disappointment. The truth was, he knew very well why Alex was there. He still remembered the look in Max’s eyes as he made Michael swear that, if he could get Alex to come, he would let Kyle have a look at his sprained wrist. Michael had no idea what Max had said to get Alex to agree, but he was a little more than grateful to have some time with the airman after everything that had happened with Maria, even if that meant he had to share that time with the one guy in Roswell he truly couldn’t stand having around.

               “You know, if you’re miserable being here,” he said, holding his right hand against his chest tightly, “you can leave. I don’t really need you, so…”

               Alex’s arms fell limp to his side. “Alright then, fine, I’m leaving.”

               Michael, in a panic, grabbed his sleeve, wincing at the pain that shot through his entire arm. “Wait, Alex, don’t…” Alex stopped, and looked at Michael. The cowboy swallowed, bringing his hand back to his chest. He’d never seen Alex look annoyed with him. “I – I was just joking, I’m sorry, it was – I was kidding.”

               Alex looked away, shaking his head. “You know what? Serves you right. You’re always getting yourself into these stupid barfights, you were bound to break a bone at some point. You’re just lucky that this time, it was nothing but a sprain.

               Michael stared. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you? If I’d known me getting hurt would bother you so much, I would’ve used my powers.”

               “Why didn’t you?” he snapped, and Michael tried not to smile. As angry as Alex was at him, he always seemed to care more. Michael hoped that never stopped. “You could’ve blocked that asshole – everyone was drunk, they wouldn’t have noticed, but no, you just stand there and take it.” He huffed. “Since when does Michael Guerin just stand there and take it?”

               Michael watched as Alex crossed his arms, leaning against a white wall as they waited for Kyle to finish with his patients. He hadn’t seen the airman at all lately, and had no idea how much he’d missed the sight of him until right now. He missed Alex’s soft hair, his lips, his eyes, his touch. If the pain in his wrist hadn’t been shooting up and down his arm, he would’ve stepped closer, put his hand to Alex’s jaw, kissed him until the both of them forgot that they weren’t supposed to be kissing.

               But Alex was distant and cold, his stance a warning that he would not take kindly to Michael’s touch, not after what he’d done.

               “Did you consider that maybe it was because I wanted to get hurt?” he said before he could help himself.

               Alex frowned. “What?”

               “You’re right, I could’ve stopped him, but I didn’t want to.”

               “What’re you talking about? Why not?”

               Michael scoffed. Wasn’t it obvious? “Alex, you won’t even look at me anymore! You don’t answer my calls, you don’t come by the Airstream, you pass me like we’re complete strangers – all I wanna do is talk to you, and you won’t even listen to me!” He tightened his hold on his wrist, trying to convince himself that it was the cause of the pain spreading to his chest. “So, yeah, if ending up in a hospital is the only way to get you close, then I’ll let every bastard in Roswell take a shot at me.”

               Alex’s brows furrowed. “You’re insane. What do you think getting beat up is going to accomplish? We’ve tried talking, Guerin, it doesn’t work.”

               “You walked out the last time, Alex,” he said, “not me. You’re the one who left after you saw my ship – you freaked out, and you left me!”

               “Is that what you think?” he whispered, his eyes wide with horror. “You dumbass, you think I left because I was freaked out about your ship?”

               “Then what was it, huh? What were you so afraid of?” Michael looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know when you’re scared, Alex, and you were scared that day, more than I’d ever seen you. So if it wasn’t the ship, then what scared you?”

               “I didn’t want you to leave!” Alex snapped, and Michael went silent. “You were talking about assembling that stupid thing and going into space, and I was terrified because I didn’t want you to go anywhere!”

               “I…” barely escaped Michael’s lips as Alex’s eyes filled with tears, and he stumbled back.

               “And I told you, I said we’d talk later, I said I needed time to process, and I came back!” He huffed, wiping his eyes with an angry hand. “Damn it, Guerin, I – I came back, why didn’t you?” He shook his head. “And why did you have to go to her?”

               Michael stared back at Alex, unable to do anything more. He wanted to tell Alex that what he felt for him was stronger than anything he’d ever felt for anyone else, that he was the only one he wanted to be with, that every second they spent apart was torture, and he just wanted to be with Alex, no matter what that came with.

               But as soon as he opened his mouth –

               “Alex Manes?” they looked up and saw an older man in a doctor’s coat approach them.

               “Dr. Reynolds,” Alex blinked, wiping his face before he shook the man’s hand. “Hi, it’s – uh – it’s good to see you.”

               “Good to see you, good to see you,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he took Alex in, and Michael thought he looked like a proud grandfather, the way he held Alex’s hand in both of his, his touch firm and strong. His brows furrowed slightly and his smile turned small and wary as he leaned in, his voice quieting as he asked, “Not hurt again, are you?”

               Michael frowned, looking to Alex for an explanation as to why the doctor wanted to treat his injuries as a secret, but Alex only pressed his lips together.

               “No, actually,” Alex gestured to Michael who nodded once in greeting to the doctor, “it’s my…” he cleared his throat, “Guerin. He sprained his wrist, but uh – Kyle Valenti’s already supposed to look at it, so don’t worry.”

               “Ah, Valenti, of course,” the doctor nodded. “Good man, he is.”

               Alex nodded in agreement, and turned to Michael, avoiding his gaze as he said, “Guerin, this is Dr. Stanley Reynolds. He’s been looking after me since I was a teenager.”

               “That I have,” the doctor said, looking to Michael with a flash of anger in his eyes. “The state this boy would come to me in – unbelievable! I heard about what happened to that old man of yours, and believe me, that’s the universe working.”

               Alex huffed a chuckle, and Michael noticed that he looked neither afraid nor uncomfortable. His shoulders weren’t stiff, his breathing didn’t quicken, his hands didn’t shake. He seemed to feel nothing. Michael stared. How long had it been since Alex had looked so… numb?

               “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

               The doctor scowled. “The things that man has gotten away with…”

               You have no idea, Michael scoffed, and the doctor tilted his head at Alex.

               “Say, whatever happened to that boy you were so concerned about? I sure hope he’s alright.”

               Michael frowned. “What boy?”

               “Uh – actually, Dr. Reynolds,” Alex tried, but the older man was already getting fired up.

               “Oh, I remember it like it was yesterday! Of course, I can’t discuss Alex’s case with you, son – confidentiality, I’m sure you understand – but I distinctly remember he was crying about a boy who’d had his hand smashed in with a hammer. Terrible case, really scary stuff.”

               Michael flinched, the memory a stab to his heart. “A hammer?”

               He nodded. “See, I remember because Alex had never shed a tear before, which, if you had seen the times he’d come in here – but, again, I can’t discuss that. Still, it broke my heart to see my tough nut crack. Of course,” he clasped Alex’s shoulder, “I understand completely. We all have our Achilles heel, don’t we? The little chink in the armor. Can’t dismay though, can’t dismay. That’s the part that keeps us human, you know.” He heaved a sigh. “Dear, I hope that boy came out alright.

               “He’s fine,” Michael said thoughtlessly, his voice barely over a whisper, his attention on Alex. “He came out fine.”

               Alex finally looked at him, his eyes barren and unattached. Just as Michael took a step closer to the airman –

               “Well, better go,” the doctor suddenly said, and slapped Michael’s back as he passed. “Patients to tend to, medication to administer, surgeries to be made – call me if you need anything, Alex!”

               Alex barely nodded once before the man was gone.

               There was a moment of silence, and Michael came close enough that his chest was nearly against Alex’s shoulder. “Alex,” he breathed. “What was he talking about?”

               Alex shook his head. “You know I hated what my dad did to you, why are you so surprised to know I cried about it?”

               “Alex, that’s not –”

               “I see Kyle,” he said, cutting Michael off, his eyes catching Kyle at the end of the hall. “Come on.”

               Michael watched him leave, following a moment later. He kept his eyes on Alex for the rest of the time, even as Kyle greeted them, as he had Michael take an x-ray, as he awkwardly asked why Max couldn’t just heal Michael’s wrist, and Alex reminded him, with an effort to avoid Michael’s eyes, that Max was still recovering from having saved Rosa.

               Michael had thought the visit would irritate him, his entire focus on Kyle – the way he would glance at Alex, the way he’d smile at Alex, the way he’d almost pretend Michael was a stranger in favor of talking to Alex. But Michael saw no one but the airman, and as soon as Kyle had left for some medication and bandages, Michael stood, crossed the room, and took the chair next to Alex’s.

               “You know I wasn’t asking about me,” he said. “That doctor talked like you were… like Jesse had…”

               Alex sighed, and finally looked at him, his jaw tight. “Let’s not discuss this, okay?”

               “You said you wanted to talk,” Michael said. “So talk. What happened that day in the toolshed, after I was kicked out?”

               Alex held his gaze, and Michael saw something flicker in his eyes. It didn’t take him long to realize the airman was miserable, and he didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved.

               “He held me down,” Alex slowly said, as if the words burned his tongue, “and that hammer he used on you, he used again on me. Broke every single one of my ribs, and punctured my lungs.” He looked away. “I almost died.”

               “Alex…”

               Alex shook his head. “There was no permanent damage, they wouldn’t have let me into the military if there had been, but that’s when I realized that there was nothing my dad wouldn’t do to get me to obey him. After that, it was either staying with him, or enlisting. I made my choice.”

               He clenched his jaw, wiping something off his cheek so quickly that Michael barely had time to make out what it was. “I stayed alive by following orders. Pathetic way to live, I know.” He sniffed, rubbing a hand over his face before he crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “Whatever. I got used to it.”

               Michael stared, and after a short moment, was surprised to feel a tear slide down his cheek. He wiped it away, looking at his wet fingers with furrowed brows.

               He let his hand fall and asked, “What happened to us?”

               Alex smirked. “I assume you’re looking for a more poetic answer than We broke?” he glanced at Michael, and did a doubletake, any humor, no matter how bitter, gone. “Hey, Guerin, don’t…” he sat up straighter, his hand going to Michael’s cheek, his thumb wiping away another tear that had fallen. “Come on, stop, it’s okay.”

               “It’s okay,” he repeated, shaking his head, moving himself from Alex’s hold. He didn’t deserve the airman’s touch. “I abandoned you. You kept coming back to me, and I turned my back on you. No wonder you hate me.”

               Alex frowned. “I don’t hate you, Guerin. I couldn’t.”

               “Alex, I… I don’t know how to fix this.”

               I don’t know how to fix you, fix what your father’s done, turn back time and bring the old you back. I don’t think it’s possible to undo all that damage.

               Alex searched Michael’s face, his gaze softening as he slumped slightly against his chair, a small, sad smile at his lips. “Me neither.”

***

PROMPT SUBMISSIONS ARE CLOSED.

I know, technically, they didn’t work out their issues, but this was as realistic a scene as I could come up with! I hope you enjoyed reading it, regardless. I feel like I say that a lot because I deviate so much from what people ask for ._.

... seriously though, I love my babies, but I can’t see them ever just sitting down and working through everything at once. Hence, the ambiguous end. I’m back to angst though, so that’s... that’s thrilling, eh? I’m going to go have some sour plums and saltines. Goodnight everyone ❤

[lfthinkerwrites]

Regarding Jonathan Crane: Closure

Title: Regarding Jonathan Crane

Fandom: Batman

Pairing: past Scriddler

Rating: T

Summary: With Penelope’s help, Edward comes to some kind of closure regarding Jonathan Crane.

Author’s Note: This is the last chapter of this story arc. PI verse will be going on a bit of a hiatus, while I work on my two new (happier!) AU fics. See you then!

Previous Chapters:  1/2/3/4

AO3 Link

Friday, February 9th

9:00 AM

Penelope arrived at her office to find it empty. She sighed, hung up her dark blue winter coat and walked over to her desk. Rationally, she knew she shouldn't expect to see Edward today. After Selina had texted her Sunday morning, she'd received only basic updates from her. He'd suffered a concussion and bruised ribs from his encounter with Jones but had received medical treatment. Apparently, after he'd been brought home, Edward had refused to see anyone. He hadn't called or answered his phone either. Selina and Cobblepot had been by a few times in the days since, but he'd refused to let them in. Penelope sat down at her desk and pulled out her schedule. She only was expecting two patients today, which gave her time to review her files from the latest case Gordon had asked her to consult on, not to mention reviewing her old notes from Arkham Asylum-

Penelope sighed and pushed her files away. Who was she kidding? She'd be lucky if she could concentrate on anything today. Her gaze wandered to her bookshelf, towards one old book in particular. She could just make out the text on the book's spine. Gotham University Psychology Department, 1993. She'd been thinking about that time in life a lot since Saturday night. A knock at her door brought her out of her thoughts. For a moment, she felt relief. Edward? "Come in!"

The door opened and Selina Kyle walked in, slamming it shut behind her. Penelope tried not to let her disappointment show. "Hello, Selina."

Selina nodded at her in acknowledgment before she sank in the seat Penelope had for her patients. "I saw Eddie today Doc."

Penelope leaned forward. "He let you in?"

Selina scoffed. "No, I picked the lock. I had to make sure he was still alive."

"How was he?"

Selina shot her a look and Penelope looked down at her desk. "Alright," she conceded. "That was a stupid question. How bad is he?"

Selina sighed. "He hasn't been eating much. I don't think he's been sleeping either. He was still wearing the pajamas I helped him in on Sunday. He still had that box on his coffee table with the articles about Spooky, but..."

Penelope looked up. "But?"

Selina shook her head. "He'd torn up a lot of them."

Penelope folded her hands under her chin. "Anger is part of the grieving process. Did he say anything to you?"

Selina raised an eyebrow "You mean other than 'get the Hell out' and 'leave me alone'?" Selina pinched the bridge of her nose and it occurred to Penelope that the other woman was trying not to let on just how devastated she was by Edward's state. "He was having a lot of mood swings. One moment, he'd almost start to talk about Crane, then he'd scream that he'd wished he'd never met him." Selina lowered her hand. "Ellen's been calling me non stop, but I don't want her to see him like that."

This had gone on long enough. If Edward was at the point where he couldn't look after his own basic needs, it was time to call Joan in. As Penelope reached for her phone, her eyes caught her old college book once again and she paused. "You mentioned that Edward has a box of news articles about Crane. Does he have any personal mementos?"

"He's got a scrap of Crane's old Scarecrow mask-"

"I don't mean Scarecrow," Penelope clarified. "Does he have anything about Jonathan Crane as a person?" Arkham would have taken anything Crane had in his cell, but surely Edward must have something to remember him by that wasn't connected with his crimes.

"No," Selina answered. "Most of Eddie's things either got taken by the cops or are in some storage space somewhere. Why?"

Penelope got up out of her chair and walked towards her bookshelf. "I'm going to go see him."

"No offense Doc, but he won't talk to me or Ozzie and he's known us for years. He won't even pick up when Nina and Deirdre call. He's not going to want to talk to a shrink, even if he does trust you."

"He doesn't have to talk to me," Penelope answered. She pulled the book off of the shelf. "But there's something I can give him that he needs to see."

He's in the sewers underneath Arkham. The smell almost knocks him back on his feet. He shouldn't be here, he thinks. Croc could come out at any moment, he needs to get out-then a man emerges, running from a doorway that leads back up to the Intensive Care Unit of the Asylum. A man dressed in burlap, carrying a pouch of something. His heart leaps up. "Jonathan!" he calls out. "Jonathan!"

Jonathan doesn't acknowledge him. Instead, he turns back towards the door where a man dressed in black runs in. "Stand back!" he yells. "Or this goes in the water supply!"

He shouldn't be here. He needs to get out of here, just drop the bag and run, give yourself up to him for God's sake-"Jonathan!" he calls out again.

This time, Jonathan turns to face him. His mask is gone now, his face a red ruin. "You did this to me, Edward," he says in a broken voice. "You did this to me!" Croc leaps out of the water then grabs onto his leg and drags him under. Soon, there is nothing but silence and the water turns red with blood-

"JONATHAN!"

Edward bolted upwards, his chest heaving. He took a look at his surroundings. He was back in his apartment, on his sofa. He brought his hand up to his face. He must have fallen asleep after he all but chased Selina out of his apartment an hour ago. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the past week. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Jonathan and what Croc did to him. Edward shuddered. He'd already had few memories of the time he and Jonathan had spent together. Would he ever be able to think about him again without thinking about that night in the asylum? Edward removed his hand. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he have just completely forgotten about him? Why did he have to remember that he loved Jonathan Crane? Wasn't the coma punishment enough? He slowly got up, wincing a bit at the dull pain in his ribs. He looked down at the scattered bits of paper on his coffee table. No more. He'd shred it all today. He looked at the scrap of burlap also on the table. He'd burn it. He would never think about Jonathan Crane again.

He got up to his feet and began to gather everything on the table together, then he heard knocking. Oh Christ, he'd just sent Selina away, now what? Oswald again? Nina and Deirdre? "Go away!" he shouted. There was a brief pause before the person knocked again. Edward considered this. Who did he know who would actually pause and knock again? Edward walked to his door and opened it. Penelope stood on the other side, immaculate as always, clutching her purse close to her. Her blue eyes widened when she saw him and to Edward, it was like a stab to the heart. For a long moment, he stood there. He wanted to tell her to leave, that she was the last person he wanted to see right now, but he couldn't. Those ice blue eyes, so much like his-

"Edward?" he heard her ask. "May I come in?"

Wordlessly, Edward stood to the side and held his arm out. Penelope walked into his apartment. She looked at him again and the concern was obvious. Edward felt a bit self-conscious. "I didn't realize that you made house calls, Dr. I would have freshened up a bit."

Penelope took stock of the man. From Selina's description, she'd been prepared for the worse, but this? He clearly hadn't showered and there was stubble on his face. She hadn't seen him like this since back at the asylum, before the coma. "I wanted to see you."

"And now you have," Edward said shortly. Penelope felt her temper rise, but she quickly pushed it down. Edward had been in a traumatic situation and was in physical and emotional pain, and he hated being pitied. He'd been pushing away his friends to avoid being seen as vulnerable. He'd do the same to her. She couldn't take anything he said too personally. "Selina visited you I take it," he continued. "Did she tell you what a wreck I've become?"

"She's concerned about you," Penelope said. "We all are Edward."

Edward walked back to his sofa and gingerly sat down. Penelope was watching his every move. He couldn't be angry at her, he thought. It's not like she chose to have blue eyes after all. "Did she tell you about Jonathan too?"

Her gaze softened just a bit. "Yes," she said. "She told me the night you went after Jones."

Edward weakly chuckled. "Well. So much for privacy. I suppose you're here to tell me how stupid I was for doing that?"

"No," Penelope answered. "That's not what you need to hear right now."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "What I 'need' to hear? Are you here as a psychiatrist? Is this an intervention?"

Penelope sighed. Time to put all her cards on the table. "I'd like to think I'm here as your friend Edward. I came because I was worried about you."

Edward almost didn't know what to say to that. After everything they'd already gone through, he supposed she was his friend now. "I'm not dying Penelope if that's what you're worried about," he said finally. "I'll get over it."

"Edward," she said. "You can't keep burying your emotions about this. That's what caused you to chase after Jones in the first place."

Edward felt his hands begin to twitch. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Jonathan's gone. Baring my soul to you or Selina, or Joan Leland won't bring him back. I'm better off just forgetting about him and moving on."

Until the next time something happens to remind you about Crane. Penelope grabbed one of the dining room chairs at the dinner table and pushed it so that it was in front of the coffee table. She sat down, now directly across from Edward, much like their sessions all those years ago. "While I agree that you should move on at your own pace, I think forgetting about him is a mistake. He was someone you-"

"It doesn't matter!" Edward shouted. "Even if he was still alive," Edward paused when his voice began to hitch. He wouldn't fall apart in front of her. "Even if he was still alive, I'm reformed. I'd still be reformed. Nothing was going to stop Jonathan from carrying on in his 'research'. We wouldn't have been able to stay together." Edward shut his eyes. "I don't even remember much about our time together," he admitted. "So really, why shouldn't I just forget about him?"

Penelope sighed. "Even if on an intellectual level you know that's true, that doesn't change your feelings about him. You can't rationalize away your grief." Edward looked down at his hands. Penelope bit her lip, wondering if coming here had been a mistake. Only one way to find out now. She reached down into her purse and pulled out her college psychology book. "Edward," she said. "There's something I wanted to show you."

"Please tell me it's about Hugo Strange. Or some other case." He didn't look up as Penelope placed a book on his coffee table. He looked down in disinterest. It was open to a group photo of students and faculty. Gotham University, Psychology Department group photo, 1993. In the front row, Edward vaguely recognized a younger Penelope, as serious then as she was now. "Why on Earth-"

Penelope reached over and pointed her finger at the faculty in the back row. "Look here. Do you recognize anyone?"

Edward looked over to where she pointed. In the back row, farthest to the left, stood a tall, gangly man, dressed in an ill-fitting tweed jacket. His expression was borderline contemptuous of the other people in the photograph. Edward's breath caught in his throat. "Jonathan," he whispered. He grabbed the book then and began flipping through the pages. There were more photographs of Jonathan, a profile written about him, even quotes from him regarding the nature of fear. He stopped at one photo of him standing in front of a group of students in a lecture hall. The caption below read Professor Jonathan Crane and students.

Edward looked back up at Penelope. "You knew him? Before Arkham?"

She nodded. "Yes. I was in his fear and phobias class my sophomore year. I also worked as a teaching assistant for him for a few weeks, before...he was dismissed."

Before he'd become Scarecrow full time. Before Edward had ever met him. He looked back down at the photograph of Jonathan, still wearing that tweed coat...

..."Jonathan? What on Earth is this?" Edward pulls out a tweed coat from the closet. It's a brown color, one that Edward wouldn't be caught dead in, but that he supposes looks alright on Jonathan.

Jonathan looks up at him from where he's still lying in bed. "What're you doing going through my closet?"

"Planning a wardrobe change for you. If you're going to be seen in public with me, your going to be dressed accordingly."

"Begging your pardon Edward, but I don't think I'll be taking fashion advice from a man who used to dress in a green catsuit."

"That catsuit fit my aesthetic, thank you very much! It's not like I wore it for formal occasions! And besides," he adds flirtatiously, "Let's not pretend you didn't enjoy seeing me dressed in skin-tight spandex."

Jonathan does not dignify this with a response, instead picking up a pillow and throwing it at Edward. Edward dodges it easily and laughs...

..."Edward?" He'd been looking at the picture with a distant look on his face. Almost as if he wasn't there. Was he remembering something? Penelope leaned forward a bit. "Edward?" she asked again.

Edward started a bit. "I remember," he whispered. "I remember that coat." He chuckled a bit, and Penelope was relieved to hear how genuine it was. "I always hated that thing. He'd wear it whenever we went out to socialize and he looked ridiculous in it. It didn't fit him right. I tried I don't know how many times to get him to get it tailored or to get him to wear something that looked better, but he never would. More out of spite I think. He was the most stubborn person I've ever known."

"That makes sense," Penelope added. "Even when he was a professor, he never cared much for his appearance. We realized once that he wore the same pair of shoes every day at the lecture. I asked him if he had any other shoes and he looked confused for a moment. Then he asked me 'Why? Do you?'"

Edward actually laughed a bit this time, taking care to avoid aggravating his ribs. "Every dime he ever made from any scheme he concocted went to his chemicals or to books. I stopped by his hideout once, before we were together, and his living room floor was covered in books. I went to his kitchen to get a glass of water, and out of curiosity, opened his fridge."

"And there was nothing in there?" Penelope guessed.

Edward shook his head. "Oh no, there was something in there. A pumpkin. A pumpkin and a bottle of soy sauce. I told him that was no way to live, and he said 'I have my books. That's all I need.'" Edward laughed again and then his smile fell. "I really thought, after I was cleared and when I began my career as a private investigator, that he'd come. That any day, I'd walk into my office and he'd be there, sitting at my desk, asking me just what in the Hell I thought I was doing." Edward tried to laugh again. "The first stage of grief is denial, right?"

"For some people yes," Penelope said. Edward was close to either a breakthrough or a breakdown. She needed to carefully guide him through it. "I think though that between focusing on your own recovery, getting established in your new career and this business with Hugo Strange, that you've never really been able to grieve."

Edward took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair. "I was alright. I thought I was alright. I mean yes, it hurt to think about Jonathan, but I'd accepted it. And then that news about Croc came and I realized that there was so much about what happened that I didn't know, that I needed to know." Edward's vision became blurry and he realized that he was crying. "It was my fault. What happened to Jonathan. It was my fault, Penelope."

"What are you talking about Edward?"

He'd said too much. He hadn't even told Selina this, but the words came before he could stop himself. "Croc told me he killed him to get back at me for something I did to him during some scheme." Edward's voice hitched as he grabbed the side of his face. "I don't even remember what it was! I don't remember what kind of scheme it was, what I did to Croc, any of it! And Jonathan died because of it!" He covered his face with his hands. "I love him, Penelope. I love him so much. And I might as well have killed him."

Penelope said nothing as she processed what Edward had told her. God...It was obvious what kind of toll hearing this had taken on Edward. And to think, she'd believed wholeheartedly once that he wasn't capable of caring about other people. Edward's frame shook with the force of his sobs and she knew she had to do something, say something. She reached her hand over to gently touch his shoulder. He looked up at her then, his hands dropping from his face.

"No you didn't Edward," she said. He leaned forward slightly and she moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his face. "You're only responsible for your own actions Edward. Whatever you did to Jones, he was the one who chose to take it out on Jonathan. He's responsible for what happened to Jonathan, not you. You know that."

Edward gasped a bit and grasped onto her hand. For a long time, the two of them sat there, Edward in tears and Penelope watching him. This was necessary. Painful, but necessary. Finally, Edward had calmed down enough that Penelope felt safe speaking to him again. "Edward?"

Edward opened his eyes. He thought he'd be embarrassed, being this vulnerable around anyone and he probably would be later, but for now, he felt at peace. "Hmm?"

Penelope wet her lip. "I know you're not going to like this, but I think you should tell Joan about this. She does have experience in grief counseling."

Edward sighed. "I don't know how much more I can talk about this Penelope."

"I know it's painful, but you've got to work through it, Edward. She can help you. We all can. You're not alone Edward."

He sighed and nodded. No, he wasn't, was he? Slowly, he let go of her hand and she withdrew it. He leaned back against the couch. God, he was tired. He was hungry too. He looked back down at the book Penelope had brought and slowly pushed it back to her. "I should let you have this back-"

Penelope stopped the book with her hands. "No," she said. "I want you to have it. Selina told me you didn't have anything about Jonathan that wasn't related to his crimes. He was a very flawed individual, but he was more than the Scarecrow, especially to you. You deserve to remember that."

Edward had to shut his eyes to prevent another outbreak of tears. When he'd recovered, he took the book back. "Thank you," he said. "For everything." She smiled a bit in response and Edward felt a small one come to his own face. For the first time since last Friday, he saw her again. "Were you really his teaching assistant?" he asked suddenly. It certainly explained quite a bit about her, come to think of it. "What was that like?"

Penelope shook her head. "It...was quite an experience." Her face grew serious again. "I don't how much Jonathan talked about that part of his life with you, or how much you remember, but I can talk to you about it. If you want me to."

"I'd like that," Edward said. "Not now, but I'd like to hear about it. I haven't talked to anyone about him in so long..." he trailed off. He suddenly became aware that he was dressed in pajamas and that he hadn't showered for almost a week. "I really look like a mess, don't I?"

"Yes," Penelope answered bluntly. "You need to shower. And shave."

"Fine," Edward grunted, pulling himself off the couch. "What a nag. Worse than Nina and Deirdre."

Penelope rolled her eyes, but she was relieved. This was the Edward she'd become accustomed to. "You should call Ellen at some point too. She's been worried sick about you."

Edward froze and turned back to face her. "Ellen-you know about Ellen?"

"I met her last Saturday night. She was the one who alerted us about your absence. She's probably the reason you're still alive Edward."

Edward gulped. He'd almost left his daughter an orphan. What had he been thinking? He sighed and shook his head. "That wasn't how I wanted you to meet her."

Penelope was surprised by this. "But you did want me to meet her?"

Edward shrugged. "At some point, yes. How was she?"

"Worried mostly. She cursed at one of Cobblepot's restaurant managers and almost ran off to find you herself."

Edward shook his head. "My little hellion. I suppose I owe Oswald an apology for that." He looked down at his feet. "I owe Ellen one too. I was supposed to spend time with her that Saturday."

"Damn right you were, Old Man!"

Edward and Penelope both turned to see Ellen standing in the open doorway. The girl shut the door behind her and stomped past Penelope to where her father stood in the living room.

"Ellen, what are you doing here?" Edward asked. "You do realize that it's a school day?"

"I ditched Old Man. No one was telling me anything, so I decided to check on you myself." She stopped when she was in front of Edward and glared up at him, her lower lip jutting out. "Dumb Old Man!" She then opened her arms and lightly hugged her father's right arm, taking care not to touch his ribs. "Are you OK?"

Edward leaned down and rubbed the top of her head with his left hand. "No," he said. "I will be though."

Ellen nodded, then pulled away, her nose crinkled. "You stink."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll go take a shower." He left the two women in his living room and walked towards his bathroom. When he was gone, Penelope got out of her chair and walked over to Ellen.

"You really shouldn't be missing school like this."

Ellen cocked her head at her. "You're not really gonna report me to the truant officer, are you?"

Penelope sighed. "Just this once, no. But don't make this a habit."

Ellen rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She then rubbed her elbow. "Is the Old Man really going to be OK?"

Penelope nodded. "He needs to speak with a counselor about this, but yes. I think he will be. Your father's many things Ellen, including a survivor." He'd come this far from where he'd been. He'd make it. Edward walked back out into the living room, dressed in fresh casual clothes. Penelope reached down to grab her purse. "I should go. I have patients to see."

Edward nodded. "Next Friday then?"

Penelope gave him a small smile. "If you think you're up to it, yes." She walked towards the open door and paused to look back. She lingered for a moment, before finally giving the father and daughter a small wave. "Goodbye Edward. Call me if you need anything."

"I will. I promise."

She nodded, then shut the door behind her. Maybe she should stay a little longer-no. She had work to do. And Edward needed the time with his daughter. She shouldn't intrude on that.

Now that Penelope was gone, Edward turned his full attention to his daughter. "Well now," he said. "What am I going to do with you?"

Ellen dropped her backpack on the floor and sat ion the couch, looking for the remote. "Prime Minister's Questions! Gotham Public Access has a marathon today!"

Edward sat down next to her slowly. "Wonderful. Just what is your fascination with the British parliamentary system? You don't even follow local politics."

"It's funny! Bunch of dumb old guys yelling at each other and going 'nay' or 'yay'. Beats watching the City Council." Ellen found the remote, under a photograph of Jonathan that Edward had pulled out. Ellen looked at it. "You really cared about him a lot, huh?"

Edward took the photograph from her and looked at it. At some point, he'd need to pack the box away, but this time, he'd leave some pictures of Jonathan out. "Yes I did," he answered softly. "I loved him."

Ellen leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Edward reached around her to give her a side hug. "It's alright."

"I wish I could've met him."

Jonathan didn't care for children, but Edward liked to think he could have come to care for Ellen. "I wish you could have too. I'll tell you more about him, Ellen. But not right now. Right now, let's watch your silly Questions."

Edward spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV with Ellen, watching her as she laughed at the proceedings, or joined in with her own quips. He said nothing, happy to be in her presence. He wasn't alright. Seeing the older pictures of Jonathan and being able to speak of him helped, but he knew that thinking about him would always be painful. But Penelope was right, he realized.

Jonathan might be gone, but Edward wasn't alone anymore.

He wasn't alright, but he would be.

[notagreenlantern]

Fic: Rip This Joint - One sided Guy/Kyle

Rip This Joint Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner Characters: Guy Gardner, Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan Additional Tags: Bar Room Brawl, Canon-Typical Violence, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Unrequited Love, Angst Summary:

"Guy blamed Hal – it was easiest that way, felt natural, and was completely accurate. If Hal hadn't opened his mouth none of what folllowed would have happened."

---

The one where Hal points out that maybe Guy is in love with Kyle, and Guy works out his feelings through fighting

Guy blamed Hal – it was easiest that way, felt natural, and was completely accurate. If Hal hadn't opened his mouth none of what folllowed would have happened. Some could probably argue that Guy was a little bit to blame as well for going out drinking with Hal, but the evening had started with all four of them at the bar – John and Kyle too.

As the evening progressed into night John and then Kyle left, which left Guy and Hal alone. Guy was staying because drinking late meant less sleep, and less time for memories of recent events to haunt him. He had no idea why Hal was still around, usually the man would have found a woman willing to go home with him much earlier.

They sat facing each other in a booth, the table between them littered with empty bottles and glasses. Guy was looking at the bottom of another pint of beer and considering whether or not he should order another one. The bar would be open for another hour, only serving a few stragglers like Guy and Hal at this point. The mood in the bar had been cheerful and loud earlier but was subdued and quiet now.

“So Kyle died,” Hal said out of nowhere.

Guy felt as if he'd been stabbed at the reminder, it was one of the many reasons he was drinking. Guy didn't know who had told Hal about what had happened on Oa – Guy certainly hadn't told him. Maybe Kyle, though Guy doubted it, or maybe Kilowog. Whoever had told Hal, had probably expected Hal to shut up about it. Maybe the man would have, had he not been so drunk, and if he hadn't been Hal.

“And you lost your mind with rage and became a red lantern for a bit?”

Guy grunted in affirmative, choosing to take another drink of beer – having forgotten that it was empty. He put it down again with an annoyed look at the pint for betraying him like that. He looked up at Hal and caught him giving Guy a strange look, like he was trying to figure Guy out. Guy thought about telling him not to bother. Hal had tried to figure out Guy since the moment they met and the other man still seemed surprised by things about Guy – things Guy thought Hal should know by now.

“Have you-” Hal paused and frowned. He seemed to be having some internal debate with himself – a debate which ended with Hal shrugging, probably telling himself to just go for it, it was how Hal's descision making process worked after all; Guy, unfortunately, could admit to himself that he knew how Hal's mind worked, which was why he should have braced himself more for whatever was about to come out of Hal's mouth.

“Have you considered that maybe you could be a bit in in love with Kyle?” Hal asked, and then made a face bracing himself for Guy's response.

“What the hell?” Guy asked, confused and surprised.

“I'm just saying-” Hal started.

“I don't know where you get off even suggesting that. Kyle and I-” He didn't know what he was saying. He was drunk, and struggling to even process the implication in Hal's words, much less react to it. “How can you even suggest that? I-”

“I really hope the next words out of your mouth aren't offensively homophobic,” Hal muttered.

“Fuck you Jordan!” Guy exclaimed, anger taking over from the confusion.

Guy Gardner was not a homophobe. Maybe in the past he could have said some things which could be interpreted that way – but Guy had said a lot of things in the past. Didn't mean he still ageed with them. He had changed, and besides it wasn't as if he thought of himself as completely straight anymore – not that he had told anyone, it was after all none of their business. What pissed him off was the fact that Hal just assumed Guy would say something homophobic.

Getting to his feet Guy took a swing at Hal, but missed due to being drunk and Hal being surprisingly good at dodging – despite the same level of inebriation as Guy. Guy lost his balance, almost toppling forward over the table. He caught himself on the sticky table top, knocking over a few bottles. Pushing himself up again he refused to even look at Hal, and stormed out of the bar.

“Guy wait!” Hal shouted, but Guy didn't wait.

With his heart beating fast, and blood rushing in his ears, Guy took to the air. The wind was cold against his flushed face, and the flight started to calm him down a bit.

He flew towards John's apartment.

Guy didn't have an apartment on Earth anymore, and neither did Kyle, so whenever they did end up on Earth – most often because of a crisis – they ended up crashing at either John or Hal's place. John had bought an apartment in Coast City, mainly out of solidarity with Hal. John much like Guy and Kyle preferred New York, but they ended up on the west coast most of the time – again, something to blame Hal for.

Guy was glad they were in Coast City this time though, since most of the clean up was happening on the other coast, and this meant less chance of bumping into some other flyer in the air.

He landed on the large balcony to John's penthouse. John had said that if he was going to have a place in Coast City it should be a big one – he had regretted this decision as soon as he realized this would mean Guy and Kyle would always chose to crash at his place – John had even been the one who drew the building. There were two sliding doors leading inside the apartment, one to the spacious living room, and the other to the guest room Guy had claimed.

Guy stumbled towards his door. He was a bit unsteady on his legs, even though he was feeling a little more clear headed. The door was thankfully slightly open, and Guy could easily slide it open further to let himself inside.

He stopped in the doorway spotting the bottle of water and bottle of Aspirin on the dresser next to the bed. There was also a note next to the bottles, he grabbed it with a construct. The note was from Kyle; telling him that he was an idiot for drinking so much, and to drink the water before sleeping, and that the pills were for the next day.

“Heh.”

Guy smiled, and there was something warm coiling in his stomach.

Kyle could be so considerate and caring sometimes, and this extended to Guy. Kyle was a really great guy. Hal's words about Guy's feelings came back to Guy. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, crumpling the note in the process. However with his eyes closed all he could see in front of him was the memory of Kyle lying on the ground lifeless. Guy tried to swallow but there was a lump in his throat. His chest tightened, making it harder to breath. He felt trapped, and his whole body started to shake with the sudden need to leave.

Guy opened his eyes, willing away the memory – Kyle was alive, Kyle was okay – on the opposite end of the room was Guy's bedroom door, and across the hall on the other side of the door was Kyle's bedroom – where Kyle was alseep, safe, and most importantly alive. In the morning they would all have breakfast, talk and joke, like everything was the same. However things weren't the same, Guy would sit there in the morning and look at Kyle, while thinking about what Hal had said. His stomach twisted in a new and uncomfortable way.

Turning around he shot up in the air, leaving again. He couldn't do all of this right now, he had to get away. He wasn't one to run away, but this wasn't running away he told himself. All he needed was some time to think, and he wasn't going to get that here on Earth. Finding another bar on the planet wouldn't have been difficult, but hee needed the longer flight – besides, Earth alcohol was a bit tame when you had tried what they drank in the rest of the universe.

Guy ended up on a small backwater planet in sector 2813, in a shabby bar with shady looking characters. Guy sat down on a stool by the counter and ordered the strongest stuff they had. The flight had made him start to feel mostly sober again, and he definitely needed to correct that.

He couldn't stop the thoughts from spinning around in his head, or the swirling mess of emotions. If Hal hadn't said anything Guy would just have carried on like nothing. He wouldn't all of a sudden sit here and question the most important friendship in his life, and it was important, Kyle was important to Guy – but did that mean Guy loved Kyle? He didn't know.

Guy sighed and finished the glass in front of him. It was bad enough that he kept having the memories of seeing the world in red, as if everything was on fire, and all he could feel was anger. Not even the anger he was familiar with, this anger had been something else, something almost alive inside of him, which both belonged and felt foreign all at the same time. Now Hal had made Guy think about what had unleashed it, and that was something Guy had tried so hard not to think about.

His memories had only been about the anger, and not so much about the pain, but now that Hal had reminded him, the pain returned, and this time he didn't have an outlet for it. At the time he had turned the pain into anger automatically without thinking about it – it was what he did. Anger he could handle, all his pain was turned into anger because it was easier to handle, but now he didn't have that. Instead he could do nothing but remember the hurt. The all encompassing pain in his chest when he thought Kyle was dead.

Thinking about losing Kyle, he could feel his chest start to constrict again, and something inside of him twisted. All the things that would be gone from Guy's life if Kyle died kept playing through his mind: no more spending time together just the two of them; no more movie nights; no more having someone to work side by side with in companionable silence in the bar; no more having Kyle at his back in a fight, and there was no one Guy would rather have than Kyle protecting his back; no more easy friendship where they could bullshit with each other for hours, but also having someone Guy felt comfortable opening up to – someone to confide in. He had never thought he needed any of that in the past, but now he couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

A large, heavy, hand clamped down on Guy's shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. Guy was grateful for the interruption. He turned around on the stool, behind him stood a huge alien, several heads taller than Guy; it was purple, and broad chested, wearing a sleevless shirt showing off arms twice the size of Guy's thighs; it had a head like a bull, complete with horns sticking out to the sides and curved up, ending in sharp looking points.

“You are in my seat,” the bull-dude said, in a low threatening voice.

“Really? I didn't see your name anywhere on it,” Guy said. If the alien was going to be a giant cliché then Guy was happy to join in.

“Don't need no name on it, everyone knows I sit there.”

“Oh, yeah, and what'cha gonna do about it?” Guy asked, not even trying to reign in the taunting grin.

“I'm gonna politely ask you to move and if you don't, I'll have to start getting violent.”

“How about we just skip to the part where you hit me, and we start fighting?” Guy asked, feeling reckless, and like a fight would be exactly the distraction he needed.

“Fine by me.”

“Not fine by me,” the bartender said, but both Guy and the alien bull-dude ignored him.

The alien hit Guy's jaw with a right hook. Guy rolled with the punch. He let the ring protect him just enough to not have his jaw broken. Guy grinned, his head ringing a little. Adrenaline started to pump through his veins, making his heart race.

“Now we're talking,” he said.

Guy guessed that it would be a terrible idea to headbutt this bull-dude considering his size. So Guy grabbed the dude's shirt, pulled himself up on his feet at the same time as he tugged the bull-dude down, and headbutted him.

Guy stumbled back, dazed, and his head spinning a little. He bumped into the counter behind him. The bull-dude stumbled back a step too, but shook his head and focused on Guy again.

“Fight!” someone else in the bar shouted. Guy could hear, and in his periphery see, how some other patrons started fighting each other. The bull-dude only had his focus on Guy, the alien growled. Guy was suddenly lifted high into the air by the bull, before he was thrown across the room

He landed with an 'omph' on a table, air pushed out of his lungs. The aliens around the table had been playing cards, and money and cards flew every which way. He careened across the table and almost fell off the edge of it, head first into the lap of one of the aliens. He stopped himself with a firm grip on the table edge. Guy spotted cards in the alien's lap, figuring it wasn't the most talented cheater. Guy scooped up the cards and held them in the air.

“Should you have these?” he asked, going for innocent curiosity, and knowing he missed it by a mile, but that wasn't what mattered.

“Cheater!” the other aliens shouted. There was a clattering of chairs as the aliens got to their feet, including the cheater.

Someone, the cheater most likely, grabbed the back of Guy's vest and dragged him off the table. Guy landed on his stomach again. He rolled over on his back. Next to his head stood the cheater looking down at him. At Guy's feet stood the alien's companions. They were alll from the same species. All of them looking like tall, green, lizard's standing on two legs. They wore sleeveless tunics underneath hardened leather armor, and no pants.

“I am going to kill you,” the cheating lizard told Guy, and glared daggers at him, its scales slowly turning red.

“We told you if you cheated again we would beat you up and leave you on this rock,” one of the other aliens said. They were all ignoring Guy and glaring at the cheater, their scales turning red too.

“Oooh,” Guy said, still lying on the floor. “Your scales change color depending on your mood? Lemme guess, you're all turning red because you've fallen madly in love with me?”

This made the other lizards take note of Guy.

“You are disgusting,” one of the lizards hissed at Guy.

He was about to open his mouth to say something about protesting too much, but the cheater-lizard kicked Guy in the side with a steel-toed boot. Guy grunted.

A fleeting thought about wishing Kyle was there popped into his mind – not because he needed Kyle's help, but because most things were more fun with Kyle around, that included fighting. He'd never felt like this before.

The other three lizards were circling him now. Guy spotted the tail of one of them dangling between its legs. Guy reached out and grabbed it. In a move he had learned from watching Vat and Isamot spar, he pulled on the tail with all his strenght. The lizard yelped and fell on its back.

The other lizards were staring at him in surprise, so Guy got to his feet and punched the cheater-lizard in its face.

“All yours boys,” he said to the remaining lizards. He looked past them and saw that the bull-dude was busy fighting a massive octopus. Shaking his head he pushed past the lizards, and started making his way over to the bull.

He had only made it a few steps when someone hit him over the back with a chair, breaking it apart. Guy stumbled forward. He avoided falling, and spun around. Behind him stood an alien who looked a little bit like a sheep, if sheep had grey wool made out of barbed wire, razor sharp claws on paws instead of hooves, sharp pointy teeth, walked on two legs, and were as tall as Guy – so in other words, it looked nothing like a sheep at all.

“What the fuck?” Guy mumbled. Space was filled with so much weirdness.

“Why did you have to go and start a fight for?” The sheep asked, and growled.

“I am not in love with my best friend!” Guy shouted. He wasn't, he couldn't be.

The sheep – still holding the ruined chair – stared at Guy, looking very confused.

“What?” It asked.

“Nevermind, let's just fight,” Guy said.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what Hal had said. He knocked out the sheep and moved on to another alien. On the one hand still thinking about Hal's words was a good thing, because every time someone else attacked him he could imagine them having Hal's face, and he happily punched them. If he was fast enough Hal in his mind could never finish the sentence – unfortunately for Guy, he wasn't always fast enough.

A tall blue skinned alien with black tattoos all over his face and body got him with a sucker punch which left Guy's head ringing, and over the ringing he heard Hal's voice again:

'Maybe you're in love with Kyle?'

“I'm not!” Guy shouted. He shook his head trying to get rid of the ringing, and the words. The guy with the tattoos stared confused at Guy. Guy punched the alien in the stomach and it bent over forward gasping for breath.

Surely it didn't mean anything that Guy wanted to spend most of his time with Kyle, he enjoyed being around Kyle; it didn't mean anything that Guy had completely fallen apart when Kyle had died – it didn't mean anything, right?

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” the guy with the tattooed face said, It's voice high pitched enough that Guy could hear it over the sound of fighting around them.

“You are no help at all,” Guy muttered. He punched the alien, knocking it out.

All around him everyone was fighting and Guy took it in for a second. Until someone crashed right into him, taking them both to the ground. The something turned out to be a large ant dressed in a pink leopard print dress. It was almost as tall as Guy, and quite heavy lying on top of Guy. The ant scrambled to its feet, as did Guy. The ant was faster however and started running towards the door. Guy shook his head, and got to his feet. Kyle was not going to believe Guy when he told him about that, or maybe he would, Kyle had been in space as much as Guy had.

Guy frowned and punched another alien in the face. Now he was making notes on things to remember to tell Kyle – though to be honest that wasn't exactly a new development, he'd spent a long time making sure to remember various events that happened to him when Kyle was absent, which he could tell Kyle about later, because he knew Kyle would find them interesting or amusing.

The alien Guy had punched pushed Guy into what felt a lot like a brick wall, but turned out to be the bull-dude again.

“You!” The alien shouted.

“Me,” Guy said and grinned. Since the alien seemed surprised, Guy took the advantage and punched the bull-dude in the side. Aiming for where the kidney would have been on a human. The bull-dude merely grunted, but before he could do anything was pulled away by a weird looking tentacle attached to some alien's face. Guy mouthed the word 'freaky'. At the same time the alien who had pushed Guy jumped up on Guy's back. It's claws on both hands and feet digging in through Guy's uniform, and it buried its teeth in Guy's shoulder, near his neck.

“Ow! Ow! Stop it! I don't know where your mouth's been!” Guy shouted. “I don't want another rabies shot!” Last time Soranik had given him one, her construct syringe had definitely been much larger than it needed to be.

He reached over his shoulder and slapped the alien but it didn't let go, it just continued to chew on Guy. He grabbed the alien and pulled at it, at the same time as he leaned forward, easily flipping it off of his back. He slammed the alien on the floor, and it looked up at Guy with large eyes in its pink face, it's mouth full of teeth and blood. It chittered at Guy in a way not even the ring could translate.

“Well fuck you too,” Guy said, and kicked it in the head.

He started walking away from the alien, his thoughts drawn to Kyle again instead. He thought about Kyle laughing with Guy after a fight. Guy regaling Kyle by telling, sometimes reenacting, some part of the fight, and repeating some particularly good quip he'd made – definitely better than just 'fuck you too' – making Kyle laugh. He liked making Kyle laugh, and thinking about Kyle smiling made him feel warm, and his heart flutter – though he supposed that could just be the adrenaline from the fighting playing with his heart rate. Distracted he was surprised when suddenly he was brought down to the floor by a whole group of aliens.

“Die!” one of them shouted, which was a bit dramatic, and also uneccessarily blood-thirsty. This was after all just a brawl, not a fight to the death. However he wasn't paricularly worried about himself.

Guy had always had a strong belief in himself, but at this moment in time, that thought only made him think about how Kyle believe in him – not just for the situation at hand, but in general. Guy had had a sneaking suspicion for some time that Kyle believing in him had made Guy, not a different person, and not better – because how could you improve on perfection? – but had changed him a little bit. Evolved him perhaps. Kyle never expected anything from Guy, except for Guy to have his back in a fight, but even without expectations Guy found himself wanting to be better for Kyle.

Guy cheated a little and used the ring to create a forcefield bubble around himself. Expanding the bubble quickly sent the aliens on top of him flying.

Once on his feet again Guy punched the nearest alien in the face. Yellow stuff came squirting out of its nose where Guy's fist connected.

“Yuck,” Guy muttered. There was a yellow stain both on his gloves and his chest. “That better be your version of blood and not something else disgusting,” Guy said and looked up at the alien. “That was not a question. Do not answer it.” He frowned at the alien, but all he could see was Hal's stupid face telling him that maybe he was in love with Kyle. He punched the alien again, knocking it out. He wasn't paying a lot of attention to it though.

'What if Hal was right?' – Guy thought at the same time as another alien got in a lucky punch and hit Guy's nose. Guy felt it breaking, blood started pouring, and he bit back a shout. He wiped away most of the blood with the back of his hand.

The alien that hit him was big and grey, and – Guy found out when he punched him – had skin almost as hard as rock. Guy punched it again, the alien just laughed and tried to punch Guy in the head again. Guy blocked the fist with his arm, it felt like being hit with a sledgehammer, and if he didn't have the ring his arm would have been broken. He used his other arm to punch the alien, even though it was was like hitting a wall.

'What if Hal was right?'

Even aided with a little bit of power from the ring, the gloves started tearing, and he scraped his knucles raw and bloody against the alien.

Kyle was Guy's best friend – sometimes it felt like his only friend. And when Kyle had died, and left Guy, he had fallen apart completely. Maybe Hal was right? Maybe there was something more to it.

Every punch, be it his own against the alien's thick skin, or the punches he took from the alien were jarring and painful, but he continued. His mind completely preoccupied with thoughts of Kyle. The pain was secondary. The pain was familiar, almost grounding in a way. Everything narrowed down, the sounds around him disappeared, and all he was left with was the pain and the swirling mass of confused thoughts and emotions.

He held his arm up to block a punch from the alien, when someone came up behind him and grabbed his arm. Before he could react, his arm was wrenched behind his back with such force Guy not only felt, but also heard how it was pulled from it's socket. He couldn't keep back the pained shout. It was silenced within seconds however when the alien in front of Guy took the advantage and punched Guy on the chin. Guy's head snapped back against the chest of the alien behind him. Guy opened his mouth wide making sure his jaw wasn't broken. It felt sore, but he could move it. His mouth tasted of blood however and he spit it out in the general direction of the alien in front of him.

“Heh. That the best you guys can do?” Guy asked with a grin. He twisted his head a little to look at the alien still holding on to his arm. Guy stomped on that alien's foot, it grunted. Guy shoved an elbow into the alien's stomach, and was released as the alien grunted in pain. Guy spun around, the alien behind him was only slightly taller than Guy but bent forward a little, Guy headbutted it. The alien stumbled a few steps bawkwards. Dazed it tripped over a fallen chair and fell to the floor itself as well.

A strong arm grabbed Guy in a chokehold, which reminded him that he had been fighting another alien. Guy gasped for breath.

He wondered briefly how Kyle would react if Guy died, but it was only a fleeting thought. No way was Guy going to die in a bar brawl. At least not yet. He was about to break free when he was interrupted.

“Oh no you don't!” Someone shouted, and suddenly the bull-dude was there tackling the alien holding Guy to the floor. “I still haven't beaten him to a pulp!”

Guy wasn't brought down to the floor this time, instead he stumbled towards the counter. Guy threw himself against the counter hoping to set the arm back in its place. He more or less succeeded, but had to scream again. He could move the arm, but it was sore and hurt like hell, but it was better than nothing. He spat out some more blood on the floor.

He looked around the bar, chairs and tables were overturned, broken glass was everywhere; there were pools of liquid here and there. Blood spatter in a variety of colors decorated anything from the floor, to the walls, to the fallen patrons; most had fled though, and those left were mostly lying in heaps on the floor.

He was reluctant to admit that Hal was right about anything, and yet he couldn't shake the thought from his mind. Couldn't shake the feeling inside his chest when he thought about Kyle. Kyle meant a lot to Guy. He was important.

“Earthling!” the bull-dude belllowed, interrupting Guy's thoughts again, and getting to his feet. The other alien lay still, and bleeding on the floor.

“Ya ready to lose?” Guy asked, with his best shit-eating grin.

The bull-dude roared and charged towards Guy. Head bent and horns looking very pointy as they came towards Guy's midsection. A second before he was hit, Guy jumped straight up. Aided by the ring he flew out of danger. He put his hands on the aliens back, and pushed himself over the alien. He kanded on his feet, and turned around in time to see the bull crash straight into the bar, head first. The alien tried to pull back, but its horns didn't move. It tried again with the same result. It was stuck.

“Looks like I won this one,” Guy said with a grin.

“Asshole!” the bull-dude shouted.

“Yeah, yeah,” Guy said. He was interrupted by a bottle hitting his head and breaking to pieces. Guy looked to the side and glared at the alien who had hit him. It was several feet shorter than Guy, floating in the air on flimsy looking wings that seemed to have come from an overgrown butterfly, it was bright blue, had a short trunk and a bowler hat on its head. The bowler hat was all it wore.

“That was pretty stupid of you,” Guy said. Whatever had been in the bottle was dripping both down his neck, as well as down his fringe trickling down his forehead, and into his eyes. He used the back of his hand to try and wipe it away, probably smearing blood in his face again. He looked at the alien again, and considered that maybe he was hallucinating it.

“I'm not scared of you, you big bully!” the allien shouted in a high pitched voice. Guy sneered. He gave it a right hook which sent it flying through the room spinning around screaming. The bowler hat had flown off its head and Guy caught it with a construct. He put it on his head right before he was jumped by two other aliens.

He was pushed to the ground, the hat flying off his head, and his ankle twisted badly.

“Fuckers!” he shouted.

Guy ended up on his back with one of the aliens on top of him. The alien clawed his chest, Guy's vest tore open, and claws sank in deep. Guy screamed and bucked to get the alien off of him. When that didn't work he sat up as fast as he could headbutting the alien. That action knocked it back. However it stopped itself by digging its claws into Guy's thighs. Guy held back another pained scream by biting his own tongue until he could taste blood.

He thought about Kyle to distract himself from the pain. The look of pure concentration on Kyle's face whenever he was drawing. The way he seemed to get lost in his own little world as soon as someone gave him a paintbrush. How it was the only time Kyle seemed to be truly relaxed. Guy enjoyed watching Kyle paint, it was calming, relaxing.

The second alien came towards Guy from the side. Jaw open and ready to bite Guy's left arm. Guy rolled over to his right, dislodging the first alien with the movement. Using the ring he pushed himself up on his feet. He kicked the alien that had almost bitten him. It careened across the floor before hitting a table. A spike of pain shot up from the leg he was standing on, he had forgotten about his ankle twisting. The leg bent underneath him and he sank down on the floor.

He never really stopped thinking about Kyle, not even now. Kyle meant more to Guy than any other person. He wanted to protect him, wanted to keep him safe, because Guy knew he would break apart again if he lost Kyle. Maybe he had been too blind. Maybe he hadn't gotten the time to think for himself what it all meant. Or maybe he would never had realized anything if Hal had just kept his mouth shut.

He had to close his eyes because he was seeing black spots in front of him. He was suspecting that maybe he should have asked the ring for a little bit more protection. However he had assumed the fighting and pain would be distracting, but now all he could think of was Kyle with his concerned frown on his face. Kyle would wonder why Guy didn't ask the ring for more shielding – he would probably wonder why Guy had gotten himself into this fight in the first place too.

He considered asking the ring for more shielding, but what would be the point now? These were the last two aliens not already knocked out.

Guy grabbed the alien closest to him, and pushed it to the ground. It tried to bite him, but Guy was able to punch it in the head. He slammed it into the floor, before lifting it up and throwing it against the bar. It hit and fell to the ground unconscious.

He thought about Kyle, and his stomach twisted with all the emotions and he almost missed the second alien, the one that had crashed into a table, getting up again and charging towards Guy. Frowning, Guy made himself a green construct baseball bat. He used all the strenght he had left while kneeling on the ground to swing the bat as hard as possible. He hit the aliens legs, breaking them with a large crack. It fell to the ground and Guy knocked it out.

He used the construct bat to get up on his feet and stood there for a moment just looking at the complete chaos.

It was while standing there that Guy admitted to himself that maybe he was in love with Kyle.

Guy used a construct to grab the bowler hat again and put it on his head. Bleeding and bruised Guy limped up to the counter and sat down on one of the few still intact chairs, closing his eyes and sighing.

“Another drink,” Guy said. “Please,” he added. He got no response. He opened his eyes. The bartender had disappeared. Sighing again Guy made a construct hand, to fetch a bottle and a glass. He filled one glass, but hesitated. He glanced over at the bull-dude who was glancing back at Guy with a glare. Guy filled another glass and handed it over to the alien with another construct.

“How am I supposed to drink it like this?” the alien asked. Guy made the mistake of shrugging and couldn't help grimacing from the pain shooting up his shoulder. He made a construct straw for the alien.

“Figure it out,” Guy said. The alien muttered something Guy couldn't hear or the ring couldn't translate – he was unsure.

Guy took a drink. The alcohol burning down his throat in a satisfying way. Perhaps he could stay here for a while and get drunk. Try and forget any recent realizations.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't deny it to himself, not anymore; that feeling inside of him, that exciting, elated, feeling, whenever he thought about Kyle, it was love. He felt warm, and his heart swelled, that was love – he couldn't make himself forget about it now. He kind of wished he could however, because in the end what difference would his realization make? None. He wished Hal hadn't opened his mouth.

He sat in silence for a long while. Finishing the glass, filling it up again, and taking another drink from it before setting it down on the counter top again. At the same time Kyle walked in through the door. Guy eyed the glass with a suspicious look. He turned to look at Kyle, unable to stop his smile when he looked at him. It made him happy to see Kyle and when Kyle smiled back at him it felt like his heart jumped.

“Kyle,” Guy said. Trying to keep his emotions in check, which had never been his strong suit. Kyle was looking around the state of the bar. “Whatcha doin' here?” Guy asked.

“Hal,” Kyle said and paused, looking at Guy. More specifically the top of Guy's head. Before he shook his own head. “Hal said you two had a fight.”

“Exaggerating,” Guy said, and he really hadn't had enough to drink if he wasn't surring. “It was just a minor difference of opinion.” Guy gave Kyle a questioning look. “What else he say?” Guy asked. Suddenly worried that Hal would have said something more about what exactly the fight had been about.

Kyle shrugged. Walking closer to Guy.

“Not much. Said I should go make sure you didn't get yourself into trouble.”

“Couldn't take care of the mess he himself created. Had to send someone else,” Guy muttered low under his breath. Kyle didn't seem to hear. He was glancing around the bar again.

“I see I was too late,” Kyle said.

“Nah, this was no trouble,” Guy said. “Just a small brawl.”

“You'd think you'd have had enough of fighting for a while after all that went down recently.”

“Me, have enough of fighting?” Guy's eyes narrowed. “Do you even know me?”

“You're right. I don't know why I said that,” Kyle said with a laugh. Something inside Guy twisted painfully. He found himself thinking about kissing Kyle and he had to look away.

“How did you find me?” Guy asked. Still not looking at Kyle, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Kyle making his way even closer. Carefully stepping over a few unconscious aliens.

“Some guy called the corps. Said there was a brawl and his bar was getting trashed. Figured you might be in the middle of it.”

“He started it,” the bull-dude said.

“Shut your lying mouth,” Guy said. He pointed at the alien. “He started it,” he said. At that moment Kyle stopped next to Guy, but Guy wasn't looking at him. Was busy staring at his glass, which was why he was unprepared for Kyle's voice being so close and for the hand on his arm.

“You're hurt,” Kyle said. Guy flinched before he could stop himself. Kyle pulled back his hand like it had been burned. Guy wished he could tell Kyle to touch him again. Guy still didn't look at him. He took a drink from his glass instead.

“It's nothin',” he said after he swallowed.

“It's not, nothing,” Kyle protested. Guy did look up at him and noticed that concerned frown he knew would be there. “You're covered in blood,” Kyle said.

“Most of it's not mine,” Guy protested. Though considering how weak he felt, that was maybe a lie. “The yellow stuff's definitely not mine,” Guy said to try and steer it away from his possible mild blood loss. While looking down at himself. “Looks like one of Sinestro's boys threw up all over me. Although they didn't do a lot of puking so maybe not-”

“Soranik's here, I'll tell her to check up on you,” Kyle interrupted. Guy's head snapped up to look at Kyle.

“You brought her?” Guy sked. He hoped there wasn't anything in his tone of voice. He had probably managed to get away with it because Kyle didn't look at him funny, instead he just lifted his ring hand to contact Soranik.

A moment later Soranik walked through the door. She arched an eyebrow at the chaos inside, but didn't say anything, instead she walked over to Kyle and Guy. It was impossible to miss the way she reached out for Kyle, her fingers trailing down his arm, and even more impossible to miss Kyle placing a hand on the small of her back and smile at her. Something twisted painfully in Guy's chest, he did his best to ignore it.

“You in pain?” Soranik asked.

“I'm fine,” Guy snapped. Maybe he sounded a little too harsh. He had to remind himself he wasn't supposed to act any different around her or Kyle – besides it wasn't her fault. She didn't seem to care about his tone though, as she just rolled her eyes and sighed. She was used to him, already knew that he could be both difficult and an asshole.

“One day I'll let you bleed to death,” she muttered before going into doctor mode. Usually Guy would say something back to tease her, but he just didn't have the energy for it. Kyle probably noticed because he gave Guy a considering look which Guy ignored.

Soranik poked and prodded him. Made a lot of construct bandages, muttered something about a rabies shot, made something that was a little bit like an MRI machine, but Korougarian and hand held – so not a lot like an MRI machine.

“You have a concussion,” Soranik said after a little while.

“I do not,” Guy said automatically just to be contrary. “I promised my doctor back on Earth I would avoid more head injuries.”

Soranik closed her eyes, tilted her head back and took two deep breaths. Guy's eyes were drawn to her chest. Sure he was probably a bit in love with Kyle, and sure she was Kyle's girlfriend, but Guy was still Guy, and she did have spectacular boobs.

“You also have a twisted ankle, you wanna deny that one too?” Soranik asked. One eyebrow arched, he noticed when he looked up at her face again.

“Nah, that one I think I'll agree with you about,” Guy said.

“Broken nose,” she continued. “Want me to set it right this time?”

“Seems unecessary,” Guy said. “I like my nose.”

“Could have fooled me considering how often you seem to break it,” Soranik said. “Anyway. I'm going to go see if I have any pain medication in my bags outside. I'll be back in a minute.”

Guy did not watch her and Kyle's hands touch as she walked past him to the exit.

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked once she was outside. Kyle pulled over another chair and sat down next to Guy. The concerned expression was still there, and Guy had to look away or he'd probably blurt out how much he wanted to kiss Kyle.

“You heard the verdict,” Guy said. Making the mistake of shruggin, and grimacing in pain.

“No, I mean before this. Are you really trying to tell me it was just a small argument with Hal, that made you take off?”Kyle asked. “Because if you left Earth everytime you two had an argument you'd never stay on the planet.”

“I didn't stay on Earth though,” Guy said. “I moved to Oa. He didn't continue with 'with you, to open a bar. Maybe he should have realized sooner.

“You know what I mean. What's going on?” Kyle asked.

Guy cursed Kyle's sudden perceptiveness.

“Nothing. 's just been a lot lately,” he said. This at least got Kyle to nod in agreement.

“Yeah,” Kyle said.

They were silent for a moment before Guy opened his mouth.

“You and Soranik seem to be getting along still, despite your ex coming back to life and kissing you a few days ago,” Guy said. Because apparently he wanted more pain.

Kyle sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“Yeah, we are going to have a talk about that later.” He glance to his side at Guy. “You want to listen to me freak out about it later, but before I have that talk with Sora?”

Guy took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face.

“Sure buddy. What else are friends for?”

Kyle gave Guy a grateful smile.

Guy considered going back to Earth and punching Hal for real. He forced himself to not look away from Kyle. Made himself just watch his face for a moment longer. He did love him, there was a yearning in his chest to touch, to hold, to keep Kyle safe. He desperately wished he hadn't realized it, because there was never any hope of anything happening. Between Kyle's actual girlfriend and Kyle's ex coming back to life Kyle had a pretty messed up situation already on his hands.

Eventually Guy did look away. He blamed Hal. Blamed Hal for opening Guy's eyes, for making Guy think about his own feelings. He blamed his heart for falling in love so easily, when he thought he did his best to prevent that from happening. The frustrating part however was that deep down he knew he couldn't blame anyone or anything. All of this had been entierly out of his control, like so many other things in Guy's life.

He'd deal with it though. He'd move past it, move on. He could do that, despite how much he didn't want to he knew it was the only option. He glanced at Kyle, his heart twisting again. Maybe he could bribe Salakk, make sure they didn't have to work together for a while. Give himself some breathing space, some time to get to grips with his own feelings.

Guy sighed and closed his eyes.

Maybe one day he would be over Kyle, but it wasn't going to be any time soon.