A Day In the Life by BillA1
Copyright January 2008

Disclaimer: The characters Batman, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Superman & Flash and their respective secret identities 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. This story is based on characters and situations from the fanfiction story: And All for the Want... co-written with Merlin Missy and ...Of A Nail. Spoilers up through Destroyer and The Call. Set during the time between Destroyer and the Batman Beyond time period. Part of the R 'Verse; while familiarity with that series (and those two stories in particular) is recommended, it is not required to enjoy this story. Thanks to Merlin Missy for the beta.

A/N: For ALN who first suggested breaking J'onn & Shayera out into their own universe and I'm so glad she did.

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A Day in the Life

Rating: (PG-13)

Synopsis: When things go wrong, they can still go right. A J'onn J'onzz & Shayera Hol "Forget-Me-Not" Story.

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(Rigel Seven - Six months before Alice Vundarbar & Chessure kill Scott and Avia Free)

The night rain beat on their vehicle like a child beating on a drum. Visibility was poor and more than once they'd almost been run off the road by oncoming traffic. It had been raining for the last three days on this piece of crap planet and Fam Haf wished it would stop.

The woman sitting next to him was silent as she looked out the vehicle window into the darkness. She'd pulled her hood up over her head to hide her face. In the beginning when they made these trips, she would weep openly. Now she just sat silently and simply seethed.

Over the years, Haf had come to care for this woman and she, in turn, had returned his affection. But they both knew their affair had to remain a secret. Yet at this moment, he desperately wanted to reach over and touch her hand, to hold her, to let her know she wasn't alone, to let her know he wanted to remove the weight that seemed to be crushing her, but he didn't. He couldn't. Protocol demanded that he keep his distance... at least in public or in front of the prying eyes of their driver.

The heavy rain had become an annoying drizzle when their vehicle finally stopped. Haf got out of the vehicle, raised the rain diverter and ran to the door on the other side of their transport, opened it and escorted Mrs. Chaneg, the Zanagorian ambassador to Rigel Seven into the police station.

They approached the attendant on duty who gave the frowning Mrs. Chaneg a look of recognition. "I've come to get my husband," she said with the sound of frustration in her voice. "What is the charge this time?"

The attendant started to smile and then seemed to think better of it after seeing Mrs. Chaneg and Haf's stern expression. "We've been expecting you, ma'am," he said as he looked over the papers in front of him. "I'm afraid it's very serious this time. The charges are drunk, disorderly and assault."

Mrs. Chaneg sighed and looked at Haf. "Pay the bail and make arrangements to get him back to my quarters."

The attendant shook his head. "Sorry ma'am, but no bail. He hit a law officer and will have to see the magistrate in the morning."

This wasn't good. They'd wanted to avoid publicity as much as possible and a public hearing on Rigel Seven might mean she'd be recalled back to Zanagor. That would surely end an otherwise promising political career. Mrs. Chaneg lowered her hood, put on her best smile and said softly to the officer, "Surely, we can work something out for his release tonight. I promise to have him appear before your judge in the morning."

The attendant frowned. "Sorry, madam ambassador, but unless you're claiming diplomatic immunity for him, he stays incarcerated. We can release the two women he was with into your custody if you'd like."

"Two?"

The officer nodded and gave her a look one reserves for sick children. "Are you claiming immunity for your husband, ma'am?"

Mrs. Chaneg's eyes narrowed to a slit. "No. He and his harlots can rot in your jail for all I...." She didn't finish her sentence as she turned and headed out the door, slamming it behind her. Fam Haf looked at the astonished attendant for a moment then ran after the ambassador.

She was standing outside in the rain, trembling. Haf couldn't tell if it was from anger or the cold wind which was now blowing, but he decided that it didn't matter. He threw caution to the wind and hugged her, ignoring the driver of their car who was staring.

"I wish he was dead," she whispered as she broke the hug.

Haf stared into her tear filled eyes. "So do I," he whispered as he put up the rain diverter and hurried her to her vehicle.

(Two weeks later on Usher Six - a small dusty planet orbiting a Blue Star)

It was hot; hotter than it had been in years. The sweat ran down Movm-Che's forehead and into his eyes. He picked up his bar rag from the counter and wiped his brow. It was days like this that made Movm-Che question the wisdom of his boss making this hot rock her primary base of operations. Che was a big man. In his younger days he'd been a prize fighter traveling from planet to planet, putting on fighting exhibitions with locals. That all came to an unceremonious end when he ran into a local boxer on Nager Prime who was faster than he was. More powerful too. Broke his jaw in three places. Now he tended bar on what had to be the hottest planet in the solar system, working for a woman who paid him twice what he was worth.

The bar was quiet. The only ones in the place were part of his boss' crew who'd just completed a job two days ago. In the next day or so, the boss would pay out the split of the profits. Che was contemplating how he'd spend his share when he noticed a small man enter the bar. The man stood in the entryway, peered around as if looking for someone, then moved to the bar counter.

The man was wearing an old coat of the Zanagorian Imperial Army. The coat had all of its rank markings removed. Che studied the man as he approached. He was too clean cut, too neat. The coat was old, but it had been taken care of. Threads dangled from the spots where the rank markings had been, but the threads looks almost new, like the markings had recently been removed... or maybe they were never there. Che decided that this man was not who he was pretending to be. He pressed a button under the counter and a hidden video camera silently sprung into action.

The man slapped a coin on the counter. "An Angean sunrise," he ordered.

Che picked up the coin. It was Zanagorian. He put it back on the counter, shaking his head as he did so. "I have Corsican rum or Rigelian whiskey. Take it or leave it."

The man smiled. "Rigelian whiskey."

Che poured the man a whiskey and took the coin off the counter. The stranger sipped the drink, uttered a long and satisfying, "Ahhh," and nodded approvingly. He set the glass down and then leaned forward toward Che, placing another coin on the counter as he did so. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. Maybe you can help me."

Che frowned as he reached for the coin. The man slapped his hand down on top of Che's with a surprising amount of force. "Her name is Shayera Hol. Know where I can find her?"

Che's frown deepened. This man's tone was arrogant and needed to come down a peg. Che was confident he could take the man out with one punch if he needed to, but he wasn't paid to fight anymore. There were others in the organization whose sole purpose was to inflict pain on those the boss wanted dealt with. Che's job was to determine how much pain to mete out. "Keep your money," Che said glaring at the man. "I don't know anyone named Shayera Hol. You'd better finish your drink and leave."

The man shook his head, leaned back and took another swallow of his drink. "I was told I could find her here. I've searched for her for almost a week. Now you look here, I don't want trouble but I have a job for her and I'm not leaving 'til I find her."

Che leaned forward over the counter, pressing a button under the bar that sounded a buzzer in another room. Che lowered his already deep voice as he snarled at the stranger. "Mister, I don't know and I don't care who told you what, but I'm telling you this, there won't be any trouble if you leave right now." Che was certain the man didn't notice the door on the left side of the room open and Gilles and Turk lumber over.

 

Fam Haf ignored the bartender's words of admonition and made a show of taking a gulp of his drink. He'd been told to find Shayera Hol and he wouldn't fail his mistress. He was about to ask about Hol again when two Rossians stepped up beside him. Rossians had the reputation of being one of the meaner and uglier races in the universe. These two were huge hulking brutes who looked like they took immense pleasure in their ability to inflict intense pain on their foes.

"Sit at that table and don't move," said the one on his left, pointing to a table in the center of the bar. The Rossian on his right said, "Once you sit down, if you move I will kill you slowly. Do you understand?"

Haf nodded and moved toward the table, pushed occasionally by the Rossian on his right. For the first time since he's started his quest, Haf was afraid and he contemplated that failing his mistress was increasingly becoming an attractive alternative.

One of the Rossians pulled out a chair and grunted for him to sit down. When he didn't appear to be moving fast enough, the Rossian shoved him into the chair. Haf sat facing the front door of the bar.

"Put both hands on the table, palms down. They move, you die," one of the Rossians said. Haf did as he was told. Both Rossians stood beside him, growling. After a few very nervous minutes, a Chelorian woman walked through the front door of the bar and sat down at his table. He gasped.

The woman was a Chelorian pleasure slave and she was absolutely beautiful. Her blue skin was smooth and perfect; her blonde hair was cut short and her white eyes sparkled beneath her bangs. She was so well proportioned that she could have been a calendar pin-up girl if she hadn't been genetically engineered for other more direct tasks. She was naked except for the loincloth she wore around her waist and the bondage cuffs on her ankles, wrists and neck.

The Rossians moved in unison to stand behind the woman, who smiled seductively at Haf. She stuck her right pointer finger in the air and within seconds the bartender brought her over a drink. It was Rigelian whiskey and she smiled as she pushed it toward Haf.

"Why did you come here?" she asked. Haf smiled back and sat up a little straighter, but didn't touch the drink. She smelled like sex and her eyes stared into the very depths of his being. As much as he could feel desire rising in himself, he had to focus on the task at hand.

"I've answered that question too many times today. I'm looking for a Thanagarian woman named Shayera Hol," he responded. His voice cracked and he paused, glancing into the face of the Rossians. He needed to break eye contact with this pleasure slave, but shifting and maintaining eye contact with the Rossians would get him killed. He cleared his throat and asked, "You seem to be important here. You know where I can find her?"

The smile didn't leave the Chelorian's face as she said, "What do you want with Shayera Hol?"

"I have a job for her. Do you know where I can find her?"

"What's the job?"

"That's none of your business. It's for me to discuss with her." The Rossians growled, but quieted quickly when the Chelorian silently raised her right hand without breaking eye contact with Haf. The Chelorian frowned at him and stood. "Shayera Hol will meet you here tomorrow at mid-day. Come alone and be on time. Failure to comply will get you killed."

She stood, looked at the Rossian on her right and said, "Help him find the door." The Rossian grabbed Haf by his jacket collar and dragged him to the bar door. Haf would later swear that the Rossian smiled as he picked him up and threw him out the door and into the street.

 

J'onn watched Turk throw the Zangorian out of the bar. Gilles laughed and congratulated his Rossian brother on the distance and accuracy of his toss. Gilles and Turk were just the kind of muscle that gave Shayera her well-earned reputation. Besides, J'onn thought, it was one of Turk's better throws.

J'onn turned to the bartender. "Have him followed...but make sure he knows he's being followed."

"I'll get someone on it," Che answered as J'onn morphed into his Thanagarian guise and climbed the stairs to the rooms on the second floor. He hadn't found anyone who didn't mentally open up to him when he changed into a Chelorian pleasure slave and the Zanagorian was no different.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he briefly closed his eyes and sighed as he could hear Shayera yelling at her bookkeeper. He was sure she'd watched his interview with the Zanagorian on the closed circuit camera. Now that company was gone, it was back to business as usual. That meant Shayera would probably be unhappy.

He opened the door in time to hear her snap, "What? Just how much money did we lose on that last job?"

Marte, her bookkeeper, wiped his tentacle across his bulbous brow and checked his ledger again. "As close as I can figure, boss, we lost 3,000 credits after expenses."

J'onn smirked, walked across the room and sat down as Shayera let loose a string of expletives. Then she stomped off toward the window as Marte fidgeted nervously in his chair. She took her mace off her belt and energized the weapon. "You're fired, Marte! You're a damn lousy accountant and a poor operations manager. Plus you steal from me. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you where you sit."

Marte cleared his throat. "Boss, you would have made 5,000 in profit if you hadn't given the daughter of our last customer that Bolean platter set we found as a wedding gift. Our finder's fee would have been almost 8,000 credits. I wired you and told you that before you gave it away."

J'onn chuckled as Shayera growled and turned off her mace. She and Marte did this dance after every job. J'onn had decided that their show was one of the best bits of entertainment in the galaxy. He stood, walked across the room to Shayera's liquor table and poured a small glass of Rigelian whiskey.

He then turned and offered it to Shayera as he said, "Something to wash down the crow with?" She stared at him for a long moment before finally taking the glass from him. She turned back to Marte, sighed loudly and then put on her best smile as she said, "You're hired again, Marte. You're the best in the universe and we both know it, right?"

Marte nodded. "Right, boss. We both know it. And we both know you're the best boss, too." He paused. "You want me to take the 3,000 credit shortfall from your personal account to bring us to breakeven?"

Shayera handed J'onn back her glass and shook her head, "No. Take 2,500 from my account and 2,500 from J'onn's account and show that we made 2,000 profit on the last job."

J'onn kept his expression in check as he sat down and nodded as Marte glanced at him for concurrence. Marte closed his ledger and moved to the door. "Anything else, boss?"

Shayera looked at J'onn, who nodded his head at her, then she turned back to Marte. "Tell Che I'm having dinner in my room tonight. Tell the crew to gear up for another job tomorrow."

Marte acknowledged her and closed her office door behind him as he left.

"Kind of free with my money, aren't you?" J'onn said.

"As I seem to recall," Shayera said as she took the drink glass back from J'onn, "you didn't object to my giving that platter set as a gift even through you also read Marte's wire. That makes the gift from both of us. So your half of the 5,000 is 2,500. And don't think I didn't see you okaying Marte taking the money from your account, either." She smiled.

"That's because you should never argue with the boss in public or in front of subordinates."

Her smile widened briefly, then flattened as she nodded her head in the direction of the door. "Were you able to read that Zanagorian downstairs?"

"It seems to be a standard grab and run job, I think. But he is just a messenger. He can't negotiate price and the maximum he's authorized is 40,000 credits. I'm having him watched now."

Shayera downed her drink and laughed. "Remind me again how I did business before you came on board?"

J'onn stood. "Not sure. I just know I'm 2,500 credits poorer now than I was when I woke up this morning."

"No need to pout. You'll make it back up on our next job, I'm sure."

"Martians do not pout," he said as he stretched his arm around her and locked the door across the room.

She removed her mask, stepped out of her boots and wrapped her wings around him. "Well, what would call what you're doing?"

A small smile crossed his face. "Sulking."

"Sulking?"

"Yes, because...."

She finished his sentence, shaking her head as she did so, "Martians do not pout."

His smile widened.

 

Haf knew he'd been followed. He'd noticed someone shadowing him shortly after he left the bar yesterday, but he didn't vary from his planned routine. He contemplated that if these clumsy people worked for Shayera Hol, maybe she wasn't the right person for the job after all.

And yet....

This all might be part of some clever plan on the part of Hol's operatives to catch him off-guard.

They probably had his comm lines bugged so they'd know who he talked to. That had to be it. They wanted him to call his boss so they could find out about him and Mrs. Chaneg before the meeting...maybe even how much money he could offer. Perhaps these people weren't so dumb after all. Well, he wasn't stupid either. He wouldn't call Mrs. Chaneg and tell her he may have found Hol. Let's see how that screws up their plan.

He spent a restless night in the hostel. As soon as he stepped out of his room he was under observation and he knew it. He was followed to the restaurant where he ate breakfast and then back to his room. He stayed in his room until he returned to the bar at the appointed time.

The place seemed darker than it did the day before. He'd taken about two steps inside before one of the Rossians (maybe the same one who manhandled him yesterday) pushed him along. Before he knew it he was being shoved toward a table in the back behind a beaded curtain. At the table sat two Thanagarians, a male and female.

The female fit the description he'd been given of a one-eyed Thanagarian. He'd heard that she traveled with a big male Thanagarian, but he had no idea how big until he saw him in person. The Rossian shoved him down in a chair in front of the winged couple, then turned and stood on the other side of the beaded curtain.

The woman said, "I understand you've been looking for Shayera Hol."

Haf scowled, "Is this how you treat your potential employers?"

Hol frowned. "Not employer. Client! And it's how I treat everyone until I'm sure they're not a threat, Mister Haf. Now what can I do for you?"

"How'd you know my name?"

"Trade secret. Now what do you want of me?"

Haf cleared his throat. "I am the attaché to the Zanagorian ambassador to Rigel Seven. Her husband has been," he paused as if searching for the right word. "Embarrassingly indiscreet," he continued. "I've been authorized to pay you 20,000 credits if you will ensure he gets on the passenger starship Mercury One bound for Zanagor three days from now."

A faint smile crossed Hol's lips. "20,000 credits, huh? That's a lot of money to pay someone to put an unfaithful husband on a ship back home. Why so much? Why don't you do it and save the money?"

Haf cleared his throat again. "No one in the embassy can be associated with his leaving. It has to look like he did it on his own accord."

Hol was silent for a moment, but her face gave nothing away. The male Thanagarian spoke, "Why does the ambassador want it to look like her husband left on his own?"

The question startled Haf and he scrambled to put together a reasonable explanation. "We're just trying to avoid bad publicity for the sake of the ambassador."

Hol glanced at the male who sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. She let out a long deep sigh. "I'll take the job, but not for 20,000 credits." She leaned back in her chair mirroring the male's pose. "My price is 100,000 credits."

Haf's eyes widened and his throat went dry. He momentarily slumped in his chair but immediately straightened up. He wet his lips and took a deep breath. "I have to get authorization for that much, but I'm sure I can get the money tomorrow. The ambassador will be very happy to hear you've taken this job." He smiled.

Hol frowned and stood, the male stood at the same time. Haf could hear the beaded curtains rustle behind him and sensed the warm breath of a Rossian on his neck. This couldn't be good.

Hol shook her head. "Tell the ambassador I regret I cannot accept the job."

Haf's jaw dropped. "What? What's wrong? I can get the money...all of it. Tell me why you're not taking the job?"

She frowned and put her hand on the handle of her mace. "No! You're not welcome here anymore. Show him out. Encourage him not to come back. Ever!"

Haf felt a hand grab his collar and yank him out of his chair. As he was being dragged out, Haf thought to himself that he wasn't paid enough or loved enough for the pain he suspected he was about to endure.

 

Shayera plopped back down in her seat. Her lips were a tight line on her face. She looked at J'onn. "Okay. I got the signal. What did you read?"

J'onn's expression matched hers. "He and the ambassador planned to kill the husband on the ship and let the word get out that you had a hand in it."

She put her elbows on the table and cupped her hands together under her chin. "Figures it'd be something bad like that. He offered too much money just to escort someone from the embassy to the docks. And he was too eager to make sure he had our services. I can't believe he would pay 100,000 credits to get rid of the husband."

"It would have been a small price to ensure you got blamed and to secure a bride."

Shayera dropped her cupped hand in disbelief. "A bride? You mean him and the ambassador?" She paused awaiting an acknowledgement from J'onn. Then she frowned. "Have Marte make contact with our people on Rigel Seven. I want the word out before nightfall that the ambassador and her lover were looking for an assassin to murder her husband on the Mercury One."

J'onn nodded. "Right. Of course you know the ambassador will deny any knowledge of this."

She pointed to the hidden video camera in the ceiling. "I know, but she won't dare point at me. Besides, it will be hard for her man, Haf, to deny the bruises Gilles will give him and the video recordings if we have to produce them. Anyway, they're the least of my concerns. I have to tell my crew we don't have a job after all. They won't be happy about that."

J'onn smiled reassuringly. "Something will turn up. It always does. As they say: 'When one door closes, another one opens.' We both know that." He paused. "I'll get Martes started on getting the word out on this job." He reached out, placed his hand on hers for a moment, then turned and left.

Shayera leaned back in her seat. Damn it all, they needed this job. She looked up as Che walked in carrying a tall glass of Rigelian whiskey. As he set it down in front her he said, "Here, boss. This is from J'onn. He said to tell you that this is a gift and it won't cost you 2,500 credits later."

She chuckled and took a swallow of the whiskey. "Oh, one other thing, boss," Che continued. "There's a Jennian outside looking for you. She says you've done work for her before and now she has another job for you."

Shayera's grin widened and she set her drink down. "Tell J'onn to meet me back here. Send the Jennian back here in half an hour." Che nodded and walked out.

Shayera leaned back in her chair, cupped her glass and smiled. Another door had just opened.

END

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