SEPTEMBER MOURN by BILLA1

Copyright September 2004

 

Disclaimer: The Characters Batman, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Superman & Flash are all owned by DC Comics. This story is intended for my own pleasure and is not for profit. It has been posted to this site for others to read. Places and characters not own by DC Comics are my own creation.

 

 

 

September Mourn

(Rating: PG-13)

Synopsis: A very dark Hawkgirl story, post Starcross and the day after "Fearful Symmetry." There is no happy ending to this story and if you prefer you may consider it AU. Sorry, but you have been warned.

 

 

"I love you, John...I never lied about that." 

As he watched her turn and fly away toward the setting sun, he said tearfully, too softly for her to hear, "I love you, too."

And the winged alien disappeared into the sunset to meet her uncertain fate head on.

 

(Thirteen Months Later)

 

The tall, dark haired woman in the white lab coat entered the revolving door of the stone and glass faced building as she had done every day for the last five years. As was her custom, she walked directly to the young, heavy-set, purple haired receptionist sitting behind the large desk located on the right hand side of the entryway.

 

"Good morning, doctor," the receptionist said, smiling as she handed the tall woman in the white lab coat a cup of coffee.

 

"Good morning, Misty," the woman said as she took the cup. She set the cup down and leaned on the desk. "Is that a new piercing?" she asked.

 

Misty moved her long hair off her face, stuck out her tongue and said, "Got it last night. That makes three on my tongue. I also got another one in my navel. Do you want to see?"

 

The tall woman smiled weakly, thinking to herself that she did not understand young people at all.

 

"Er...no...that's okay. Is Doctor Hamilton in?" the woman asked smiling a little wider. The smile accentuated the woman's laugh lines and the crow's feet around her eyes. The glasses the woman wore were too small and the frames too dark for her face giving her an almost clownish appearance when she smiled with her bright red lipsticked lips.

 

"Sorry, Doctor Fleming, but Doctor Hamilton is out sick this morning. Doctor Platt is in. Do you wish to see him?"

 

Doctor Sylvia Fleming frowned. "Okay. Let him know that I'm on my way in to see him. What room is he in again?"

 

"Room 126," Misty replied as she buzzed Doctor Platt's office.

 

Fleming grabbed her cup of coffee, turned and walked down the hall and found room 126. She knocked once on the door and entered.

 

"Morning, Sylvia," the small man behind the desk said as Fleming walked in.

 

"Ian, good morning," Fleming replied. "How is she doing this morning?"

 

"Sorry, Sylvia. She expired this morning at 0223 hours."

 

"Damn it." Fleming exclaimed. She sighed and took her glasses off. Shaking her head in disbelief, she sat down in a chair opposite Platt's desk and buried her head in her hands.

 

Platt moved from behind his desk and sat on the armrest of the chair Fleming was in. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He then rubbed the back of Fleming's shoulders and tried to comfort her.

 

"Sylvia, don't be so hard on yourself," he said gently. "She survived eight months longer than anyone thought she would. Death was sudden. She took a turn for the worse at midnight and fought for life until the very end. You've nothing to be ashamed of."

 

"Damn it," she said softly, looking up at Platt. "I guess we can harvest the remains, but I really thought the Thanagarian would be our best hope. I really so wanted her to work out." 

 

Platt smiled at Fleming. "I know you were close to her but these things happen and we have to go on." He paused, "Of course, you know what this means."

 

Fleming didn't return the smile, but pounded the arm rest of the chair. "Damn!!"

 

 

Fleming left Platt's office and headed down the hallway to her own office. If there were people in the hallway, Fleming didn't notice them. She was much too absorbed by the loss to notice what was going on around her and she was clearly worried about this major professional set back.

 

Once in her office, she opened her file cabinet and retrieved the file marked "Thanagarian." She sat down and took a sip of her now cold coffee and opened the file.

 

She leafed through the pages of the file and unclipped the small photos attached to the papers. The first set of photos were still uncomfortable for Fleming to look at even twelve months after they were taken.

 

The female Thanagarian had resisted capture and had been severely beaten; and during the struggle, one of her wings was broken. The first set of photographs showed a frontal and side profile view of the nude female, handcuffed with her hands in front of her, standing against a height chart. The bruises on her face and body were evident and disfigured what had once been an attractive female.

 

The other set of photographs were taken three weeks ago and showed the same nude, restrained female with her bruises healed and her appearance somewhat restored. The photos also showed her repaired wing. The medical team that fixed her broken wing ensured that this particular Thanagarian would never fly again. The biggest difference between the two set of photographs was the Thanagarian's hair. In the first set of photographs, the Thanagarian's shoulder length red hair was dirty and matted as a result of her attempts to avoid and resist capture. In the second set of photographs, the Thanagarian's head had been shaved.

 

Fleming recalled that during the initial examination of the female, shortly after her capture, that the female almost seemed human in her response to stimuli. She seemed to react to pain and pleasure with almost identical responses as most humans. Fleming was surprised to discover during the pain test, that the Thanagarian did cry out and even cried tears while begging and pleading with them to stop.

 

Fleming remembered almost feeling pity for the female as she wailed in pain. Then Fleming remembered that this female was part of a race that tried to destroy the Earth, and whatever semblance of pity she had quickly disappeared as she reminded herself how important it was to get the Thanagarian pain levels recorded. Fleming made a note early in the file as a reminder to others who would read the file later.

 

"The subject female is humanoid in appearance but not human. Speaks several Earth languages and is intelligent. All are advised to remember that this is not a human being despite appearances and is to be referred to by species type, Thanagarian, and NEVER by whatever name she calls herself."

 

The last entry in the file was dated yesterday noting that the female had refused food.

 

Fleming picked up the phone. As she dialed the inter-office extension, she took another sip of her cold coffee and in disgust pushed the cup away from herself.

 

"Hi Crystal, Fleming here," she said into the phone. "It's the Thanagarian... please order procedure forty-two in one hour...thanks."

 

As she hung up the phone, she reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy. She set the brandy on her desk and reached back into her desk drawer and pulled out a small shot glass. She poured the brandy into the shot glass and put the brandy bottle back into her desk drawer. She dialed another number on the phone.

 

"Fleming here," she said. "I'll be there in ten minutes. I've ordered procedure forty-two for the Thanagarian. Please have the escorts ready for me...thanks."

 

She hung up the phone and picked up her shot glass full of brandy.

 

"Sorry, Shayera Hol," she said to herself as a toast. "I really wish that this could have worked out."

 

She gulped down the brandy and put the glass back in her desk drawer. She made a final entry in the file, "Terminated." and closed the file and returned it to the file cabinet.

 

 

The walk was the same one that Fleming had made every day for the last twelve months, but Fleming knew that after today, she would not have to make this walk again.

 

The guards escorted her to a holding area where behind a force field there was a 10X10 room with a bed and toilet. Inside the room, sitting on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, was a nude woman with wings. Her shaved head was bent into her handcuffed hands.

 

Shayera Hol, formerly known as the Hawkgirl, looked up when she heard Fleming approaching. She stood, leaving the blanket on the bed, and walked to the edge of the force field. As she had done almost everyday since her capture, she raised her arms above her head, spread her wings fully and turned slowly so that the guards could see that she had no weapons. When she completed her slow turn, she lowered her arms and turned her back to Fleming. She then spread her legs and bent over and stayed in that position with her hands tucked to her chest until the guard told her she could stand easy. She then turned around and faced Fleming. She was not permitted make any eye contact with any human without permission. She looked down on the ground at Fleming's feet.

 

One of guards placed a fold up chair next to the force field and Fleming sat down.

 

"Sit down, Thanagarian," Fleming commanded. "We have to talk."

 

Hol sat down instantly, cross legged on the cell floor, her handcuffed hands in front of her, her head and eyes down. During her twelve months of captivity, she had learned that non-compliance was rewarded with pain; and as much as she would hate to admit it, her spirit and her body had been broken by multiple applications of punishment.

 

"Look at me, Thanagarian," Fleming said as she crossed her legs and leaned forward.

 

Hol raised her head and looked Fleming in the eye with a look that surprised Fleming with its defiance.

 

"How are you, today?" Fleming asked.

 

Hol couldn't recall Fleming being concerned about her welfare before. She thought she sensed real concern about her condition from Fleming this time.

 

"I'm cold and really wish I had some clothing."

 

Fleming smiled. "No clothing."

 

She then added, "I see you stopped eating yesterday. Is the food bad? What would you like?"

 

Hol eyed the woman suspiciously, and then glared at Fleming. "Is this a last meal request?"

 

Fleming stood up. A guard jumped next to her side. Fleming raised her hand and waved the guard aside. "I am sad to say that it is."

 

Hol sighed. She was surprised by the finality of the answer even through she had expected this outcome for months. As she pondered what she should say next, a tear formed in her eye. She let the tear run down her face rather than wipe it away.

 

"When?" Hol finally said.

 

"In about fifteen minutes."

 

"How?" Hol asked trying unsuccessfully to control the quiver in her voice.

 

"Does it matter?"

 

"Hol smiled at Fleming. "It does matter to me. I rather die fighting than strapped to a gurney with a needle in my arm."

 

Fleming shook your head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but the needle it will be."

 

Hol took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why now?"

 

Fleming sat back down in the chair. She crossed her legs and took her glasses off.

 

"We tried to clone you. We wanted an army of winged fighters. The males of your species are much bigger than the females and we probably would have had more success and funding with a male clone. We did get a female clone from you, but that clone died this morning. We probably would have tried again except we had a great deal more success with our Galatea project, so the bottom line is - we don't need you anymore - at least alive."

 

Hol stood up. The guard at Fleming's side pointed his weapon at Hol, but Fleming raised her hand signaling him not to fire. Hol ran toward the force field charging Fleming but the energy force field threw her back. Hol screamed in pain from her encounter with the force field.

 

Hol, on one knee, tears freely flowing, screamed. "Kill me! Kill me now!"

 

"Thanagarian, sit down - Now!!" Fleming commanded.

 

"Or what? You'll kill me? Oh- wait, you've already played that card."

 

Fleming stood up and spoke softly. "You're right, Shayera. Death means nothing to those about to die, does it?"

 

No one had called Hol by her first name in more than a year. She slowly got up and walked back toward the force field, but she did not sit.

 

"Shayera, I promise you that we will make it as quick and painless as we can."

 

Hol started laughing, loud and long, almost hysterically. Fleming eyed Hol carefully.

 

"Are you okay?" she asked.

 

Hol stopped laughing. "I never knew I would come to care for the Earth and its people..."

 

Her voice trailed off.

 

Looking at Fleming, she smiled, "Just thinking about something I said a year ago." Hol sighed. "I'm ready. Let's get this over with."

 

Fleming studied Hol for a few moments and with wry smile said, "Move to the back of the cell." She then paused. "When you get to the back of the cell...face me."

 

Hol looked at Fleming in amazement and then walked to the back of the cell and turned around to face Fleming. In the year that she had been a prisoner, she was always required to face the wall if there was a human in the cell with her.

 

One of the guards turned off the force field while another wheeled a gurney into the cell. A third guard kept a rifle pointed at Hol.

 

"Get on the gurney, face up." Fleming said. 

 

Hol walked toward the gurney and suddenly pushed the gurney into one of the guards and ran toward the cell opening. The guard with the rifle hit Hol first in the stomach and then in the head with the butt end of the weapon knocking her semi-conscious.

 

Fleming called out to the guards. "Quickly, get her on the gurney and strap her down."

 

The guards grabbed the semi-conscious woman and placed her on the gurney face up, strapping her in. Fleming connected a heart monitor to Hol's chest and inserted two intravenous tubes, one in each arm.

 

Fleming started injection of the toxic chemicals into the intravenous tubes connected to the now barely conscious Hol. Hol closed her eyes.

 

Suddenly, a giant green fist punched a gigantic hole through the cell wall. On the other side of the hole, hovering in the air was the Green Lantern. Hol's eyes snapped open.

 

"Get away from her," he bellowed in his deep baritone voice. The guards dropped their weapons and ran from the cell area. Fleming backed out of the cell uttering the words, "I'm sorry" as she departed.

 

The Green Lantern unstrapped Hol from the table and removed the intravenous tubing from her arms. He helped her sit up.

 

"Are you okay?" he asked.

 

"I am now," she said weakly.

 

He took the blanket from her bed and covered her with it. "I'll get you some clothing when we leave here."

 

"I love you, John. I never lied about that."

 

"Shayera, I love you, too."

 

He hugged her and she hugged him back, tears freely flowing.

 

"You know," he said. "Remember the bar in the Omega quadrant? Why don't we go there now?"

 

She smiled broadly. "Anywhere you want to go is okay with me."

 

Using his ring, he formed an energy bubble around them and she held him tightly as they headed off into the darkness of space.

 

 

Fleming looked at her watch and then turned to one of the guards. "I'm calling time of death at 11:22.  Cover the alien with that blanket on her bed and take her down to the dissection room."

 

As a guard covered the body of the dead female Thanagarian and wheeled it out of the cell, one of the others guards approached Fleming.

 

"Doc, don't mean to get into your business, but why did you break protocol and allow the alien to face us when we entered the cell? You must have known that the alien would attempt a break! I mean someone could have gotten hurt."

 

Fleming glared at the guard for a moment and then said, "The Thanagarian had no chance of escape and wanted to die fighting. I gave her that chance but her fate was never in doubt. She was going to die and it cost us nothing to grant her last wish."

 

Fleming looked around the cell that had been the home of the dead Thanagarian for a year. As Fleming walked out of the cell, she whispered, "Goodbye, Shayera Hol of Thanagar - Godspeed and pleasant dreams."

 

Fleming then walked back to her office to review the progress on the White Martian project.

 

END

 

Author Note: This story was inspired by 2 things: 1) a comment from a Fear Symmetry talkback about who else StarLabs may have for cloning purpose and; 2) XFFan_2000 excellent story, "Hawkgirl is Dead." I always thought after Starcrossed HG would meet an unhappy end as the result of Thanagar revenge. But after "Fearful Symmetry", I now think the end would come from Earthlings. HG remains my favorite character and like all HG/GL "shippers" I always hope for the happy outcome...But this story is not it.