DC2 Christmas Special 2016

"Bah, humbug!"

Vulko looked into his bathroom mirror. If the passage of time hadn’t removed most of the hair from his head and turned his few remaining hairs white, then he would either be tearing his hair out at that very moment or the same hair would be turning white before his very eyes, for this was his season to be unjolly.

He trimmed his ivory beard with his treasured swordfish razor as he remembered the days of Christmas past, back when there hadn’t been a Christmas; it had just been business as usual. Now there were all the special preparations that needed to be done in advance, that lengthened his working day, that he’d complained about for years. There was no way he’d be working late tonight, he vowed, as he finished getting ready.

An hour later, on the day before Christmas, Vulko couldn’t help but frown as he crept into his king's presence.

On the other side of the room, Orin was standing in front of a full-length mirror, rehearsing his speech for the next day. Finally noticing Vulko, he came to a halt.

"Can I help you, Vulko?"

"Well, sire, there's something I don't understand."

Orin smiled at his old advisor and friend. "Well, if it's something I can help you with..."

"It's Christmas," said Vulko.

"It certainly is," said Orin.

"No, sire, you misunderstand. I mean it's Christmas that I don't understand... ever since you introduced it to us a couple of years ago."

"Ah, yes, it’s a shame you never grasped it. The rest of Poseidonis seem to have no problem."

"With all due respect, sire, it's popular because of you. If the king has a tall green algae in the corner of his room with a starfish on top, then suddenly everyone wants one."

"So, you think this is just an affectation?"

"If I may speak honestly, I thought it was more or a mid-life crisis, resurrecting a tradition from back in your youth, back when people called you Arthur and you were a landlocked young boy."

Orin laughed.

"Or maybe it's to keep up with your super friends. Even the ones from other planets will be celebrating Christmas."

"I hope so, though knowing their propensity for danger, who knows what adventures they're getting up to on this fine season. Enough to fill a book no doubt.” He reached down to his belt buckle and removed something. “Speaking of which, Vulko, can you look after this for me?”

Vulko took the shiny metal object. “Your Justice League communicator?”

“That’s right. I don’t want to be disturbed during Christmas, not unless it’s a crisis. This is a time of peace and goodwill after all. I thought that aspect at least would please you, Vulko, after the things we’ve been through in the past, what with the rebuilding of Poseidonis. Surely you’re not going to continue questioning my motives?"

Vulko was not one to let his curiosity be curbed so easily. "Is it so you can do a Christmas speech each year?"

"Definitely not. Do I really look so shallow?"

Vulko looked at his bearded king and smacked his forehead with his palm. "It’s this Santa guy you talk about! You introduced it so you have an excuse to keep that beard, just like all those times you failed to introduce Movember. I know the queen’s not overly fond of it…"

Orin laughed and stroked his beard, "You have a fanciful imagination. Besides my replacement for Santa is a little lacking at the moment, a king can hardly creep into his subject’s houses. Still, my original plan didn’t quite pan out, although I’ll never give up hope. You’d think it would be easy finding some old guy with a white beard and a hat or hood, but my first choice doesn’t even like Christmas."

Vulko wasn’t going to be distracted by his king’s talk of some secret Santa. "Well, we both know who you're really trying to emulate with that beard of yours," he said, "and I can't help but feel flattered." Royal protocol prevented Vulko from also pointing out that Orin’s beard was a pale imitation.

Orin rolled his eyes and then walked with Vulko out onto the balcony, where flecks of snow fell around them. They looked at the dome surrounding Poseidonis, now transformed into a giant snow globe.

"Surely you appreciate this," Orin said.

"Queen Mera's just concentrating, using her water powers to slow down the atoms until the water solidifies into snow."

The king shook his head. "You take all of the fun out of Christmas, Vulko.”

"The people on the ground appreciate the spectacle, wish each other a very Mera Christmas, but why do we need it?" continued Vulko.

At that point, Queen Mera herself entered, carrying their young son. How old was he now? Not that it mattered, for Vulko had so many other things to do that day.

“Vulko, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” suggested Mera.

“Really?” said Vulko, smiling for the first time that Christmas. “Thank you, your majesty.”

As Vulko turned to leave, Orin stopped him. “Vulko, aren’t you forgetting something.”

The smile fell from Vulko’s face. “Your majesty?”

Orin pointed to a brown sack in the corner of the room, and smiled. “Your Christmas present!”

“Don’t open it till Christmas!” added Mera.


“Don’t open it till Christmas, don’t open it till Christmas,” mumbled Vulko as he carried his present in through the door, just before tearing open the wrapping paper.

He looked at the red dressing gown he’d been given. Not bad. He tried it on for size, and it fitted perfectly. He looked in his mirror, admired the white trimming.

He smiled as he thought about Orin and Mera and their son, and then thinking some more he realized something – how old their son was; he was as old as... as old as... Christmas.

Suddenly it all made sense to Vulko as the scales fell from his eyes. Now he knew why Orin had introduced Christmas - not for himself, not as an excuse for his inferior beard, but for his son.

Suddenly he felt terrible for the way he’d been acting all of these years. He thought of Orin, and his poor Santa Claus substitute, as the king spent all evening telepathically controlling sea creatures to deliver presents to the Atlantean children. He remembered Orin’s line about the old guy with the silly white beard and the hood or hat who’d let him down. Suddenly he realised who Orin had been talking about. Well, if that Grinch Green Arrow wouldn’t help Orin, Vulko certainly would.

“But how do I get through the doors?” he asked aloud, and just as he said the final word, a portal opened in front of him. Confused, Vulko stepped through the portal and found himself out of the sea, in a large room, feeling like a fish out of water. He wondered where he was, and then noticed a Justice League logo on the table and realised what had happened. He pulled the Justice League communicator out of his pocket and saw it blinking.

“It must have been when I said ‘door’,” he pondered out loud as yet another portal opened before him. Just as he was about to step through it, three other people entered the room, only one of whom he recognised.

“Dolphin?” he said.

“Vulko,” replied Dolphin, a smile on her face, “these are my new friends.” She gestured towards a man dressed in a red costume and a woman dressed in a brown one.

“I’m Captain Comet,” said the man, “and this is Vixen.”

“I didn’t know you were in the League,” said Vulko.

“We’re not, but Aquaman’s not around so the League needed our help. His are big shoes to fill.”

“You can say that again,” Vulko said. “I want to step into his shoes tonight, give those Christmas crustaceans the night off.”

“No more Sandy Claws?” gasped Dolphin.

Vulko nodded. “That’s right. I’m taking over… if I can only figure out how this door thing works,” he said as yet another portal opened before him.

“We can help you,” said Captain Comet. “We don’t get to do a lot, please let us.”

Vulko looked at the eager heroes. “Okay, let’s do this, let’s give Poseidonis a Christmas to remember,” he said, pulling up the red hood of his Christmas present as he looked forward to Christmas future. “Dolph', Comet and Vixen, you come with me, we’ve got presents to deliver.”


With the heroes’ help, Vulko made short work of the present giving, but there was still one boy left who’d been good all year, but what do you get for the king who has everything?

He thought about Orin and his son, and remembered that Christmas was a time for the young, and that Orin’s silly beard made him look dreadfully old.

An hour later, on the night before Christmas, Vulko couldn’t help but smile as he crept in with his king's presents

In the morning, Orin would open his presents and find a swordfish razor and some shaving seafoam. If he didn't appreciate it, then Vulko knew that Mera certainly would. For the first time in Vulko’s life, it was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Vic told me it would be fine. I mean, it’s not like this is a massive thing… but in its own intimate way, it’s larger than life, I guess? My mom died when I was a kid, my dad is a lunatic, and all I have is my work.

Angie Spica, scientist extraordinaire, the Justice League’s resident tech advisor in a world where every guy and gal wearing a cowl holds a doctorate in something… it’s a good title, but it’s daunting as all hell. I love the challenge… and god damn has it been challenging, what with outer dimensional consciousnesses, evil despots and homegrown conspiracies… but I’d be lying if I said I hated it.

When Vic asked me if I’d like to spend the evening with his friends over in New York, I couldn’t say no, could I? What else would I be doing? Sitting in my apartment watching Christmas movies and eating pigs-in-blankets? Maybe watching reruns of old game shows when the pigs-in-blankets run out?

With no truth big enough to give me reason, and lie forthcoming to get me out of it, yes, this is how I ended up in Titans’ Tower for Christmas. And I am god damn terrified.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to turn up!”

The guy covered in green fur and shapeshifting from one animal form to another as he bounds toward us is Gar Logan. Vic’s mentioned him before, warned me about him and his sense of humour, but it’s fine, I think. They’re best friends, that much is clear by the way I see Vic smile at the spectacle.

I wonder if he’s told Gar about me?

Vic tries to shrug him off as he transforms into a monkey, and he’s half successful, but it only plays into Gar’s excitement. He leaps from one end of the room up toward the light fixture above our heads, then back down onto Cyborg’s shoulders, where he pads about from one side to the other.

“And who’s this?” he asks, gesturing with his weird monkey thumb towards me.

“This is--” Vic starts.

“I’m Angie. Angie Spica. I work with Vic on Laputa.” I smile, and I feel myself blushing, like I’m under a microscope. Vic lets out a laugh and I worry-- does he regret inviting me? We’d done what? Kissed a few times? His touch is electric and his body… it’s weird, it’s so weird to think how attracted to him I am, but he’s warm-- not cold like his metallic body suggests. We’ve not labelled what our thing is, but I wonder… what’s the end game here?

I watch this green monkey talk with a teenager’s voice and I am bamboozled. Gar continues with his stream of consciousness talking, and I am enraptured by the sight. “Are you a Justice Leaguer? Are you secretly Big Barda? I love Big Barda! She’s so--”

Behind him, a dark-haired beauty enters. She speaks softly, but there’s a force behind her words, and I know who she is immediately. “Careful, Gar. Gods have a way of knowing when they’re discussed.”

Holy crap. Donna Troy. I’ve spoken to Diana during the quiet moments between end times, and I know enough about her. She’s an Amazon and daughter of the Titans of Myth. She’s more powerful than anybody in the room right now, but she doesn’t act like it. I watch as she opens her arms and embraces Vic, and I can’t help but smile. I think I love this woman, and I wonder if that’s just me or the fact she’s a mythical being. She’s wearing a long skirt and a tunic; her shiny black hair tied in an ornate plait that sits in front of her. She really is perfect, and considering her sister, I’m not surprised.

“Donna! Oh, man, guys, it’s really been too long,” says Vic.

“It really has. And this is Angie?” Donna turns her gaze on me, and I wither. Her eyes are bluer than blue and I nearly get lost in them. No wonder she elicits such love and loyalty in her friends. She’s a wonder.

“Yeah, that’s me. Troia, right?”

Troia? I kick myself for being a nerd. You heard her name, Angie! You know she’s Donna Troy. Don’t try and be cute or deferential, you walk shoulder to shoulder with giants, and being self-deprecating isn’t funny. You’re not in college anymore. I feel myself blush twice over, but she shakes her head and her smile lights up the room.

“You can call me Donna when we’re out of costume. Gosh, you can call me Donna when we’re in costume, I’m not too fussed about it.”

Gar clearly feels left out and pipes up, drawing attention to his current shape-- a gorilla who speaks with the strained voice of a teenager whose voice is still awkwardly finding itself.

“Kori is in the kitchen with Dick, Raven’s meditating in the garden and Tara is in the workshop, tinkering with the Amber suit, how could I forget! And Carrie and Dagon are in the Bahamas catching some Sun, which is fine with me, but, you know, it’s our Titans Christmas, I wish they coulda made it.”

Vic’s expression shifts, and for a moment he looks sad. “No Roy? Garth? No Kid Flash?”

I rack my brains. I recognise the names, but I’m confused as to why they’re so frivolous with secret identities? Am I trusted that much? Who vouched for me? Vic? Roy Harper was Speedy, but he left the team under mysterious circumstances that no one seems interested in divulging-- not that I push.

Garth is Aquaman’s old sidekick, right? Aqualad or something else unoriginal? I hear he’s a big player in the Atlantean power structure now, from sidekick to right-hand-man. Tempest?

And Kid Flash… he’s a mystery. No one knows much about him. Does Vic? He used everyone else’s real names, but not the speedster? Hell, no one knows much about any of the speedsters, but that’s probably worth discussing some other time.

I pull myself out of the thought process and see Donna shaking her head. “You know how hard it is to get a hold of them,” she says, sadly.

Vic quickly agrees. “Yeah, it’s… it’s been a while.”

“Anyway! Angie, let me show you around! If that’s all right with Vic, of course!”

“I mean, if it’s all right with Angie, Gar,” replies Vic, looking over at me with that damn twinkle in his eye. If you met the guy you would know. Something just… radiates from him, and I get drawn in every single time.

Gar does a double take, me to Vic then back to me again. Gosh, he flusters up easily, doesn’t he?

“I mean, uh, sure, I, ha--”

I could lead him on a bit, string this awkwardness out for a while, but I decide to put him out of his misery. “Don’t worry, green dude; Vic has told me all about you. So, this place is shaped like a giant ‘T’, huh?”

I watch as Gar shifts back to his human form, and I’m fascinated. It’s nearly instantaneous, and it looks completely painless, but if he’s changing his entire bodily structure, gaining mass or losing it, depending on his shape, where’s it coming from? And why doesn’t it hurt? He’s wearing cargo shorts and a San Francisco FlameThrowers t-shirt, whatever that is. A sports team maybe? Not one I’ve ever heard of, for sure.

He gestures me to go forward, and I follow, turning back to Donna and Vic in time to catch her nudging him in the ribs and mouthing, ‘she’s nice’, which I don’t think I was supposed to see. But it’s nice. It’s good. I’m here, terrified like nobody’s business, and so far, so good.

Gar spends the next half hour or so giving me the grand tour of Titans’ Tower, explaining how Vic’s dad designed it before vanishing off the face of the earth. Everyone thought he was dead but it turned out that wasn’t the case. I know Vic had a strained relationship with Silas, but I wish… I’ve tried telling him before, but it’s hard to find the words.

My dad is a monster. His made some bad decisions. I listen to Gar talk, and he’s excited, and interesting, but my heart isn’t in it. I make the right kind of sounds in response to his speeches about the features of the tower, and I hope he doesn’t notice my lack of interest. He’s more interested in the sound of his own voice, clearly.

We head back downstairs, and we enter the kitchen, and I’m blown away by the sight of this group of heroes hanging out, chatting, just being normal. Over with Vic I spot Nightwing without his mask on, but he’s completely cool with my being here? And then there's Starfire, who I think I would completely turn gay for, dressed like a regular girl, drinking wine and chatting with Donna.

Nightwing clears his throat and as if on cue, Vic walks past me, squeezes my shoulder gently, and heads over to Gar, the two of them beginning their conversation before he’s even out of earshot. “You better not have been weird--!” I hear him say, chastising Gar like a well-oiled comedy bit, the ‘Who’s on First?’ of the superhero-set.

“You’re Angela, right?” says Nightwing, looking over at me.

“Y-yeah. Angie, though,” and I stutter, nervous like a school girl, but I shouldn’t be, should I?

He’s tall, dark and clearly ripped like an Olympic gymnast. I’d swoon if I was that kind of girl. I spot scar tissue of various types on his arms and chest. Bullets and knives, more than likely. The black tank top he’s got on leaves little to the imagination when it comes to his torso, and his jeans are tight and I realise I’m spending far too much time fantasising about the shape of his ass in them.

“I’m Dick. Batman told me all about you. He likes you.”

“He does? He did?”

“You saved his life, Angie. It’s usually him being the cavalry, you know? He’s… not the most open man. But I’m lucky to know him, and I think he did a good job helping me become the man I am today. You saved him. We… might not say it much, but he’s my dad, and I owe you.”

“No, it’s fine, really.”

I’m shocked to hear this. We went through hell, Batman and me, and I’ve not spoken to him since. And the trust that this guy, Nightwing-- Dick-- has in me for that act, it’s mind blowing. I feel like I’ve been accepted into a secret society, and it’s just…

“Let me introduce you to everyone, okay? Vic’s great and all, but put him in a room with Gar and they become kids again.”

Dick leads me over to Starfire-- who I quickly learn insists on being called Kori-- and she hugs me, and her skin is bright and warm. Touching her feels like hugging a summers day, and I cling a bit longer than I should, but for some reason she clings a second longer. She’s an alien, she explains, but she loves Earth and it’s her home now. She tells me everything, and I watch as the others prepare dinner, chatting and reminiscing about the old days.

It’s obvious that they were young, younger than most in the business, but they’ve lived through fights and wars that would make the Justice League turn pale. After some time passes, someone I don’t recognise enters, and she opens the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk and takes a slug from it. Donna rolls her eyes at this, and introduces me to her.

“This is Tara, she’s our resident milk thief,” Donna tells me. “Tara, this is Angie. Vic’s friend.”

Something clicks in my head and I snap my fingers. “Oh! Amber, right? You wear that armoured suit now?”

“Ever since I lost my powers, yeah,” Tara tells me. There’s a dark cloud around her, and I can tell that if I’m too enthusiastic it’ll grate on her, and I don’t want to cause any problems.

“It’s really cool, I just wanted to say.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” she says, before wandering over to Gar, milk carton in hand.

“She’s been a bit tense since she lost her powers,” Donna explains.

Another woman’s voice enters the conversation, and I turn to see a pale skinned, dark-haired woman in a purple hoody standing nearby, having appeared from nowhere. “Donna’s being kind. She’s always like that. I’m Raven.”

“H-hi,” I say, stuttering again like a moron. I feel my skin crawl, and I wonder what caused it. Raven looks me over, like she can feel my discomfort, and shakes her head.

“Sorry. That’s me. I sometimes… radiate… give it a few minutes, you’ll feel fine.”

Outside, the sun finally sets and the skies outside the tower streak black and blue, like it was in a fight and won. Dick declares dinner ready and begins dispensing the myriad bits and pieces into serving dishes, and the others all join in. I help Raven with the salad, and she was right, I feel less awkward the more time I spend with her. She smiles a small smile at me as I pass her a spoon, and then we take our seats. There are a couple of empty places at the end of the table, but cutlery is still left there. I assume it’s for those who couldn’t make it, just in case they make an appearance, but I don’t ask about them.

Vic leads me to my seat, opposite Dick and Kori, while Gar takes a seat next to his best friend. Tara sits next to him, and Donna opposite her, with Raven after that. It’s a close-knit group, and I feel privileged to be allowed into it.

Dick clears his throat and looks contented with the dinner he had a part in putting together. “Right. Does anyone have any dramatic speeches they want to make?” He asks the question like it’s a normal one, and I smile, only for Vic to raise his hand tentatively. I make myself small for some reason, and watch as he opens his mouth.

“Before we eat… look, you guys… I’m sorry I’ve not been around much. Being in the Justice League takes up so much time, and, I don’t know, it’s not like…”

Before he continues, I see Donna shake her head. “I will happily speak for everybody when I say don’t even worry about it... I know what it’s like being pulled in every direction, we’re not going to judge you for doing the good work you’re doing. Besides, Diana sings your praises. That means something to me, you know? You’re doing the Titans proud.”

Gar laughs and Tara shoots him a look that shuts him down. I wonder what’s going on there?

I shift my gaze back on Vic, who’s trying to find the words to express himself. “Diana? Wonder Woman? Oh, man… it’s like, we were doing great work here, in the Titans, and then I’ve been… it’s Batman, Donna. It’s Batman and Green Lantern and Wonder Woman. It’s massive. It’s terrifying!”

“How do you think I feel? She’s my sister,” Donna replies.

Dick pipes in. “And Batman’s Batman, you goof. Of course it’s terrifying, but you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with them. You’re doing good work. But man, it’s good to see you. Glad you haven’t forgotten about your old pals in the Titans. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Where would I be without you guys? You’re my best friends-- my family. I just wish I got to see you more.”

“Well, we’re still fighting the good fight,” says Dick.

“Thanks, guys. Sorry for interrupting eating time-- not that it’s stopped the dynamic duo over there,” Vic motions at Gar and Tara, who have already began spooning food onto their plates.

We dig in and make small talk, and it takes a bit of time, but Tara leans forward and catches my gaze. She raises a fork and points it at me. “How’d you get into this business, Ange?”

“You want to hear my origin story?” I dab my mouth with a napkin and look at Vic, whose hand finds mine and squeezes gently.

“That’s currency around here,” he tells me.

Gar raises his hand. “Experimental drug treatment.”

“Daughter of mythical beings, adopted daughter of the Amazons, sister of Wonder Woman,” Donna says.

“Batman,” explains Dick, succinctly.

“Bastard child of the Markovian royal family plus mad science experiment equals--” Tara gestured at herself.

Kori barely looked up from her plate. A sore spot? “Oh, umm, space princess, mad science experiment.”

Raven, meanwhile, sighs, before starting. “Are we playing this game again? Let me see. Daughter of a demon king, trying to do right by the world in every way I can…”

“And I’m another mad science experiment gone kinda-wrong.” Vic tells me, gesturing to his cybernetic body like I wouldn’t know.

I can’t help but laugh. “You’ve practiced that, haven’t you?”

Dick smiles. As good as he seems, he strikes me as a troublemaker in the best possible sense. “Clearly.”

I search my past and try and think of what to say. It’s not a good story. It’s a hard, ugly tale, but it’s worth sharing. These people have been so open with me, so welcoming, so trusting. It’s only fair.

“Umm, well, my dad is a super-villain. You might have heard of him-- the Engineer?”

I see Tara’s brow furrow. She’s lucky, she doesn’t recognise the name.

“Nanotechnology, right?” offers Dick.

“Yup. Alberto Spica, one of the masters of his field. He went a little mad and he’s locked up now, but a couple of years back he tried to delete all the data he’d put out in the world on nanotechnology. He nearly succeeded too. But in his madness, he kinda forgot that there was someone else who knew just as much about nanites as him. Me. So, when he realised that, he tried to kill me. Did I mention he was a total loon? The Guardian saved him, and I became a consultant to the Global Peace Agency in my spare time. Now I’m with the Justice League full-time, solving the big problems as best I can.”

“I thought I had it bad,” Tara says, letting out a low whistle.

“Ah, he’s been locked up since then, and he’s getting treatment. But the crazy bastard replaced his blood with nine pints of liquid nanotech. If he ever got out…”

“I can relate,” Donna says with a sad nod.

I understand why. “Titans of Myth, right?”

“Yeah. They’re locked up tight, but if they emerged again, mega daddy issues, I guess.”

Even with the tightened in my chest forming from out of nowhere, I still smile, I still swallow down how unexpectedly hurt I am by reliving the story. “Why do our parents all want us dead?” I ask.

“Well, theologically, to my dad, I’m his Anti-Christ,” Raven offers.

Dick laughs. “That’s fair! Our favourite Anti-Christ, of course!”

I spot Gar chuckling out the corner of my eye. “Man, that is messed up.”

How do these people process trauma so effectively? I tell a stupid story, and my heart aches and my throat threatens to seize shut. All I can muster is, “totally,” before another voice joins the conversation:

“Did I miss the game? How’s this-- scrappy orphan raised by the Navajo then later adopted by hard left liberal archer with a staunch anti-drug stance?”

Everyone turns in surprise at the voice-- including myself-- and I can see that they’re all surprised at the sight of the newcomer. I can’t place the guy, a scruffy redhead with a baby swaddled close to his chest. To me, he was a stranger, but to everyone else he was instantly recognisable

“Titans Christmas is a standing invite, right? I’m not intruding?”

“Roy?” Dick says, standing abruptly, nearly kicking his chair over backwards.

Roy Harper? Speedy? I run the Justice League’s profile through my head, trying to fill in the blanks, even as I watch everyone stand to meet him. What did the computer say? An expert marksman who can make anything a weapon, he left under a dark cloud that I know nothing else about. I remember his profile photo though-- He’d filled out, less awkward gangly youth and more muscled, and while his photo made him look surly back in the day, with this baby in his arms he had a warm smile plastered firmly across his face.

“R-Roy?” starts Donna.

“And company,” he replies, rocking the baby in his arms back and forth.

I feel anxiety seize me. I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t for me. Everyone’s paying attention to him, so I make a beeline toward the patio doors, slide them over and slip out. I can hear them talking even as I head to the edge of the patio, toward the crashing waves.

“This beautiful little lady is Lian.”

“You didn’t--”

“--I did not wear protection, no.”

I hear Dick laugh. “You’re a dad, Speedy.”

“That I am, Boy Wonder. Long time, no see, am I right?”

The voices fade as I get further away. I watch the sea lap at the edge of the island and fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist, the regulator that controls the nanotech in my blood flashing green lights one after the other. It tells me that without it, I’d be in a low. A damn big one. My brain chemistry is regulated by these tiny machines of my own design, and without them I’d be curled up in bed, unable to crawl out from under the duvet. With them, I’m functional, I can get outside, but sometimes I wonder if I’m playing Victor Frankenstein with my mental illness. I shouldn’t talk about my dad. I shouldn’t talk about his attempt at killing me. I shouldn’t tell my origin story. It makes me sad and it makes the nanites inside my body work harder than before, draining my body of energy along the way. I get tired and I get sad and one of these days they’ll drain me dry--

“Angie?”

I turn and Vic stands there, looking concerned.

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and shake my head. I try to passively wave for him to go back inside but it doesn’t take.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I just-- I didn’t-- I didn’t want to get in the way. It’s just… I think… it’s times like this, Christmas I mean, when it really hammers home that my dad is a monster, you know? And… even with we do, the monsters we face, it still hurts. My mom is dead, my dad is locked up god knows where, and it’s just me. So… I’m sorry, I’m rambling, go back in, okay?”

“Angie, I can only begin to imagine what it feels like… you know my mom isn’t with us anymore, and my relationship with my dad is… strained at best. But those guys in there? They’re my family, Angie. And you… you’re part of that. So, well… please. Come back in?”

I try not to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I know it’s hard. And if you need me, I’m right here. Just like you are for me.”

I try to dismiss the sadness inside me. It’s not him, of course. It’s entirely me. And I know that. And knowing, as they say, is half the battle. I turn to face him and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the flesh-and-blood cheek. “You’re an amazing man, Victor Stone. You know that, right?”

“Aww, shucks,” he says, and I laugh, and he laughs, and we head back inside.

Everyone is back at the table, gathered around Roy and his daughter.

“Who’s this then?” Roy asks, looking me over.

“I’m Angela. Angie.”

“Welcome to the family,” Roy tells me.

And in that moment, with Vic’s hand in mine, surrounded by these wonderful, astonishing young men and women, I feel more at home than I have in years.

Being unused to Earth customs had been a recurring problem for the Kheran expat known as Majestros. He was the warlord of a long dead army, the prince of a culture that had died in flames. He was thousands of years old even before he’d been tossed through space-time by his traitorous blood-kin, and now he was expected to acknowledge events like birthdays? Thanksgivings? Christmases?

“Stop growling, Majestic. I get enough of that from him,” said Kendra Saunders.

Majestros shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms Saunders. I know how difficult that disposition can be.”

“Don’t apologise to her, it reinforces her mistaken idea that I’m a grumpy person,” said Katar Hol, who immediately received a soft punch to the arm from his long-time girlfriend. He rubbed his arm, but smiled at the violent act of affection.

The three of them were stood in the back garden of the Justice Society’s brownstone. Since the early days, the League’s teleport was calibrated to land them there, away from prying eyes that might want to catch a glimpse of the city’s superheroes out of their costume. Even since the introduction of the ‘Door’ technology that allowed the team to step through a portal and arrive nearly anywhere, they’d kept the practice up. It was only polite, after all.

“Are you sure this won’t be a problem?” asked Majestic.

Katar Hol looked over his shoulder at Majestros. “I said it would be fine. You’re part of this family now, Majestros. The Justice League… and beyond. The Society would be appalled if I didn’t invite you.”

Majestic had chosen to wear a white shirt under a scarlet sweater vest, along with a pair of simple black trousers to compliment his shoes-- for some reason all the clothing the Justice League had procured to him matched the colour scheme of his royal regalia, or as they saw it, his costume.

He didn’t mind, and he’d noticed a similar trend in Ted Kord’s style of dress, all blues and navy, but he’d yet to find the time to buy himself his own wardrobe. When he wasn’t operating alongside the Justice League, he worked across the globe in secret, preventing natural disasters from escalating, repairing the damage done to the ozone layer, rolling back the effects of global warming… then there was his work with Jack Marlowe over at HALO, trying to figure out how to make the Daemonite-detection grid operate considering the recent setbacks…

Kendra wore a red dress, simple and elegant, while Katar wore the Christmas jumper she’d chosen for him. Loud and with an appliqué polar bear dancing around, surrounded by strings of Christmas lights. The kind of sweater you’d wear if you lost a bet.

The back door opened and Ted Grant, wearing a paper crown and tinsel around his neck, beamed as he saw the trio stood waiting. His cauliflower ears and awkwardly broken nose highlighted his past as a heavyweight championship boxer, but his grin and the light behind his eyes was something else entirely.

“Ho ho ho, Justice Leaguers! Welcome ta the annual JSA Christmas party!”

The three of them entered, and Grant embraced Katar tightly, much to Majestros’ surprise. He had never considered Hawkman one to be so open to such public displays of affection-- outside of his relationship with Kendra-- but he reciprocated the hug gladly.

“Hawk-kid! Always good ta see you round here. Ya know the invitation to join us is always there if ya wanna leave these kids in tha dust?”

“I think there are enough Hawkmen to go round, don’t you, Ted?”

Carter Hall stood at the end of the hallway, shaking his head in mock embarrassment.

Grant patted Katar on the back and took a step back. “Ah, ignore me then. I’m just tonight’s drunk uncle, harmless an all that,” he said.

“Hey, Teddy,” said Kendra, kissing the irascible former boxer on the cheek.

“Kendra, ya look like a dream. An this tall drink a water?”

“Majestros,” came the Kheran’s response. He extended a hand, but Grant ignored it and embraced him like he had Katar. Majestic stood there awkwardly for a moment, his hand still out stretched, before he awkwardly patted the Golden Age hero known as Wildcat on the back.

“Tha alien, yeah? Always blows my mind how ya always look like the rest of us,” said Ted.

“Indeed,” replied Majestic.

“An how come he sounds like he’s a Brit? Like, ah, whassisname, Sherlock Holmes…”

“Cumberbatch?” offered Kendra.

“Brett?” said Katar.

Ted clicked his fingers. “Cushing!”

“Cushing was barely Holmes and you know it, Ted,” said Carter.

Ted grinned. “Ah, what do I know?”

Majestros mouthed ‘Cushing?’ at Kendra, but she smiled and mouthed, ‘It’s a compliment’ back.

Td led the trio forward, and Carter joined them on the way through the hallways. The latter made small talk with Katar and Kendra, while Majestros marvelled at the plethora of history on the walls. Portraits of the JSA throughout the ages, their early pre-war years, their time as the All-Star Squadron, and the post-war years up until their forced retirement in the 1950s. There were articles detailing solo adventures, articles about Senator Alan Scott among others, and then as they neared the main ballroom, where the hustle and bustle of activity was focused, he saw the headlines detail their return from retirement, the new All-Stars, and more. It was amazing, and homely, and warm.

“We value our history, Majestic,” said Hall, noting the alien’s amazement.

Katar and Kendra gave Majestros a nod, and then entered the ballroom with Ted, where they were greeted by the assorted members and families of the Justice Society.

“Our decisions today should always be influenced by our decisions yesterday,” said Majestros.

“I agree completely. I’m Carter Hall. The… well, the first Hawkman.”

“Katar’s father, yes. You must be proud to have sired such a man. He is a noble soul, no matter how hard he argues he is not.”

“He does me proud. I wish we were closer, but I’ve lived a long life-- lives-- and I hold out hope. I have to say, he mentioned your origins briefly, but I would be honoured if you would share your history with me today, Majestros. I know you’re far from home, both in time and space.”

Majestros smiled, but there was a great sadness behind it. “I do not know how far from home I am. The Green Lantern Corps have searched the universe, and their records, for some sense of where Khera once was… yet there is nothing. No mention of my people. I wonder if when… when all was lost, our enemies expunged all record of us from the cosmos. But maybe… hopefully. I will see home once more.” He placed a hand on Carter’s shoulder and nodded. “It would be my honour to tell you the history of my people, sir.”

Carter led Majestros into the ballroom and Katar introduced him to the group. The Kheran was surprised by their reaction to him-- he was a stranger, yet they welcomed him like a long lost relative. There was no fear, or confusion, just warmth and acceptance. He chatted with Jay Garrick and his wife Joan for a bit, discussing time travel theory, then was introduced to Dinah Lance, who was here in honour of her dearly departed mother. The blonde, goatee and moustachioed man accompanying her kept chatting with Katar and their light-hearted arguments caused the heroine known as Black Canary, along with Hawkgirl, to roll their eyes.

“That’s just Ollie,” Dinah explained, “he’s like that all the time.”

After dinner, prepared with finesse by Ma Hunkel, he thanked the chef with enthusiasm; it had been one of the best meals he’d experienced since arriving on Earth. He began to understand the attraction of Christmas, the entire holiday making him feel more at home than he had since his arrival into the arms of the Justice League.

“Where are you staying?” asked Jesse Chamber, her arm tucked between her boyfriend’s, Rick Tyler, as the three of them walked down the hallways of the brownstone.

“I do not sleep, so I have no fixed quarters,” explained Majestros.

“That’s no fun,” said Rick.

“I store what little belongings I have on Laputa, and it is a good central location for my work.”

“I’ve heard about the ozone repair you performed. Nothing the other super scientists ever did stuck. Even the Green Lanterns’ couldn’t make their repair work stick.”

“On my world, we never had such problems with the atmosphere. We had long evolved past requiring fossil fuels and other harmful substances to survive the day. Not that it saved us at the end, but if I can bring some positive from my culture to yours, then I gladly--”

They were interrupted by a shadowy figure walking through the wall in front of them, then into another. Majestros’ Zoom Vision flexed, and he saw the shape emerge in one of the sub-levels, in the medical wing. “Who--?”

Jesse sighed. “That’s Todd. He’s not one for festivities. You met his sister upstairs?”

“Jennifer-Lynn. The green-skinned woman, I remember,” said Majestros.

“Their dad, our Green Lantern, is in a coma. Has been for a while now. It’s really sad, nothing has woken him up,” said Jesse.

Majestic nodded slowly. “Do not let me hold you two up. I know your parents are upstairs. I am going to look around a bit more. This place is astonishing.”

“Okay, sure. You know where to find us if you need anything,” said Rick.

The heroes known as Hourman and Jesse Quick departed. Instead of heading back to the festivities they ducked into one of the numerous side rooms, and Majestic allowed himself a laugh at their youthful exuberance.

There was no one in this world for him. His love, Zannah, was lost to him, thanks to the treachery of Imperator. He had held out hope for as long as he could-- Lord Emp had survived the sabotage at the hands of the latter, along with one of his Spartan droids, so if Majestros himself could survive the void, and Emp too, then perhaps she might have as well… but he couldn’t hear her heartbeat on Earth, and the Green Lantern Corps could find no trace of them in space.

Majestros was alone.

In the medical wing, Todd Scott-- Obsidian-- looked up when Majestic entered. “Can I help you?”

“I am Majestros, with the Justice League. Your father is in a vegetative state, I thought I might--”

Obsidian interrupted him. “--We’ve tried everything, pal. No offence, but--”

An odd expression spread across Majestros’ face. He was looking at Alan Scott-- Green Lantern-- laying there, breathing under his own power, but with a face mask covering his mouth just in case that changed. The machines monitoring his life signs were easy to ignore, but there was a light visible deep inside the labyrinth of the Green Lantern’s brain, a tiny spark, small but promising to grow larger. He had never seen anything like it before, and he had to pull himself away from the hypnotic sight to address Todd.

“He’s alive, there’s brainwave activity, but he’s unresponsive?” asked Majestros.

“What did you see?” asked Obsidian.

“Something… beautiful. I am not sure what it means, but…”

Obsidian rushed to grab Pieter Cross and Michael Holt from upstairs-- the team’s resident doctors-- and Majestros explained what he had seen to the two men, both dressed in their holiday fineries. Their scans couldn’t detect what the Kheran had seen, but that was because, as he explained, his Zoom Vision was beyond the scope of their technology. He could see further, and closer, than their devices could ever.

“You’re saying there’s a fire in his brain, a microscopic fire, and we don’t know if that’s good… or bad…” said Michael, better known as Mister Terrific.

“I can see no damage to brain matter, so the flames do not appear to be physical in nature,” said Majestros.

“Mystical then,” said Cross. He rubbed his eyes and nodded.

“Well that just adds another dimension of weird to his case,” said Holt.

Todd looked at the three men, nervous energy causing his shadow self to ripple across the surface of his human body. “Couldn’t we ask Jakeem to, I don’t know, use the Thunderbolt to do something? If it’s mystical?”

Holt placed a hand on Obsidian’s shoulder. “We need to run more tests, Todd. You know how the Thunderbolt works. If the wrong request is made, it could cause more harm than good. Remember when Jakeem told him to make Alan open his eyes?”

Obsidian nodded, sadly. “The Thunderbolt opened dad’s eyelids. I know. I know.” He looked up at Majestros. “Thank you, man. I’m sorry I was… I’ve…”

“Do not worry. If you need a further consult, I am more than happy to help. You know where to find me. I should…”

Cross smiled. “Get back upstairs. We can’t do anything now, but we’ll begin a diagnostic program tomorrow to try and figure this out.”

As the night rolled on, the younger members of the Justice Society family had to excuse themselves to go home. Wildcat made a comment about it being past their bedtime, and the Young All-Stars collectively groaned. He waved them off and everyone was wished a happy holiday.

Carter asked Majestros numerous questions about his past, and the Kheran answered them gladly. Katar and Kendra slow-danced, the dance floor slowly filling with spouses, couples, parents and their grown children, and even Ted managed to coax the spectral Jim Corrigan onto the dance floor, both old men laughing as they waltzed. Eventually, the night ended, and the trio of Justice Leaguers said their thank yous and left, an armful of presents between them.

“How was that then, Majestros?” asked Kendra, as the cold New York air hit their warm, booze-buzzed faces.

He contemplated the question, then answered in a quiet, solemn voice. “I do not think I make it known how much I appreciate all the Justice League has done for me. I know it has been difficult. I am a powerful man, and I have my temper. But they-- and yourself, of course-- have been patient. I wish I could do more, but where do I start? I am just… very thankful. I wish I… I wish…”

Katar patted Majestros on the back. “You’re a good man, Majestros. We fight side-by-side with each other, That means we are brothers. Know that as much as you value us, we value you tenfold.”

Kendra held out her hand for Katar to take and he did so, her thumb rubbing across his knuckles. “Where’re you going to go now?”

“Back to Laputa, I suppose. I know that Doctor Light is on monitor duty, but another pair of eyes could not hurt.”

“You know, just because you’re an alien prince, doesn’t mean you have to drop contractions,” said Kendra.

“Excuse me?”

“‘Could not’, ‘do not’, ‘I am’, you can loosen up, if you want,” said Kendra.

Majestros considered her point. “I shall… I will… I’ll try, thank you.”

Katar chuckled and patted him on the back hard once more. “That’s the spirit, Majestros. Now let’s head back to our place. I have a bottle or five of Thanagarian 500 proof vodka that might be able to get you buzzed. Kendra tried it once, and well--”

“I had a sip-- a sip-- and was ill for days,” finished Kendra. “What do you say?”

Majestros laughed. “How can I say no to that?”

Hospitals never sat right with James Harper. He’d been reborn in a military hospital back in the 1940s, and the sickly-sweet smell of disinfectant always took him back to those nascent months. He remembered pain, an acute side effect of the operations that transformed him into the super soldier the world needed at the time, and he remembered the drive that made him want to get better faster. Every day he wasn’t out there in the world was a day that boys died, and if he was the answer to the debilitating war effort, he needed to be out there as soon as possible.

In his hand he held a bouquet of flowers, but he was unable to take any further steps down the corridor, locked in discomfort at the thought of what awaited him in the ward down the hall.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked an orderly, noticing the strange man standing motionless near the nurses’ station.

Back in the moment, Harper looked the young gentleman who addressed him up and down, the war computer that lived in his brain doing its job. Former football player, that was clear. Injured by the way he held himself; knees, more than likely. He’d put on weight, but he still held himself like he knew how to throw down, but one sharp kick to the back of his leg would take him down quick, and potentially leave him crippled. He was left handed, there were calluses on his fingers and knuckles-- did he box? But the scar on his right arm interested Harper more. Surgery? It was a single incision, clearly, healed over after a long time, but was there metal there?

James exhaled, that split-second analysis winding down as he focused on why he was here.

“I’m here to see Marjorie Lawson,” he finally replied.

“Visiting hours are over, I’m afraid. You can come back tomorrow--”

Harper slipped a hand in his back pocket and pulled out his Justice League identification and military credentials. The orderly looked them up and down, recognised the mask in the photo but not the man before him. “Uh, I’ll have to call…”

“Call who you need to, I’ll be here,” said Harper.

After two phone calls, one to a UN special hotline and the other to a military agency that very few people were aware of outside of itself, the orderly hurried back and apologised profusely. He beckoned James forward, and led him into a private ward where an elderly woman lay in bed, rolled over on her side. Her breathing was quiet, but it was not the breathing of someone who slept. As the orderly gently knocked on the door, she turned, her eyes widening at the sight of James Harper in the doorway.

His expression was still, analytical. She could see the shadows dancing across his features as he stepped into the room that was only illuminated by the muted black and white rerun of The Dick Van Dyke Show that played on the screen on the wall opposite her bed.

“I didn’t… expect to see you…” she said. Her hand wandered over to the light switch on her bedside and she turned on the lamp next to her, filling the room much needed illumination.

Harper patted the orderly on the shoulder, a please-leave-us-alone-now motion, and then entered the room. “I couldn’t go a Christmas Eve without seeing my baby girl.”

Marjorie laughed, a husky, ancient laugh, one that rattled her bones and made breath whistle through her rib cage. Harper removed his jacket and placed it on a chair next to the hospital bed she sat on, then handed her the flowers. Her thin, bony fingers played with the stems and petals, before smiling and handing them back to him.

“Thanks, dad… there’s a vase… under the sink there… could you?”

“Of course.”

James quickly located the empty vase and filled it up with water, before carefully placing the flowers inside. He positioned it on the bedside table, then returned to his seat. Her frail hand found his, and he held it gently.

Marjorie was his eldest daughter from his first wife. Having effectively stopped ageing during the second world war, after the experimental steroid treatments and nth generation musculature reinforcement, it became very clear ten years later that his wife was ageing and he wasn’t. She died in the sixties. His children didn’t. They lived long lives, though some were cut short by tragedy-- Terence Harper was hit by a car before his 22nd birthday, Sophie Mamet drowned when she thirty-seven. Katherine Wright was killed during the Apokolips invasion a few years back, along with the rest of her family, and now that left Marjorie. Born before he became the Guardian.

“Have you… spoken to the… doctors?”

“You told me I shouldn't, so I haven’t.”

“So, you… actually listened to me… for once?”

“You made your position very clear…”

“But what does that brain of yours tell you?”

Harper shook his head. “Margie …”

“Dad, the look… on your face… when you walked in… you know…”

“I know, but…”

“No, no, listen… we always knew… this day… would come. I’m dying. The cancer…”

“Margie…”

“…It metastasised.”

“Do you know how long you have?” asked Harper.

A tight knot formed in his stomach that threatened to rise and clasp itself around his lungs. He swallowed it down as far as he could manage, but his eyes stung and he had to blink away the realisation he’d tried to ignore since entering the room.

“Could be… tomorrow… could be… next year… could be… I live… to a ripe old age of…”

Marjorie was cut off by a coughing fit that rattled her tiny frame. James held her hand as she suffered through it, but a few moments later she stilled, and looked at him, tired but happy.

“I… I have friends that could… that could do something,” said Harper.

“No. No, no, no. I’ve lived… a good, honest life… and I’m not going… to cheat… this.”

“What’s the point of walking shoulder to shoulder with giants, with gods, if I can’t… I can’t share something from that? You’re my daughter, Marj, I don’t-- won’t--- can’t--”

“Will,” said Marjorie, solemnly.

“I… you’re all I have left.”

“And I’ve… been… been thinking… and I think… I’d like… to introduce you… to my children.”

“You always said…”

“It would be confusing… to know… their grandfather… great grandfather… was an… an immortal… soldier… yes, I know… what I used… to say. But this is… is different. Let me… let me talk to them… and we’ll… there’s… there’s more to this life than me… and them… for you…”

Harper wiped a tear from his eye and shook his head. “If I… if I find… something that will help… that will benefit everyone, not just you… but anyone who needs it… would you… would you let me help you then?”

Marjorie shook her head. “Let’s not… let’s not now… do you… can you… stay for a bit?”

Another coughing fit overtook her, and Harper rubbed her hand with his thumb, his fingers still intertwined with hers. He tried his best to put a strong front on, but his defences crumbled at the sight of her suffering, and he barely held it together until Christmas morning, when he slipped out while she was sleeping, minutes before her family came in to see her, presents in hand.

The Guardian returned to Laputa, relieved Doctor Light-- and a visiting Blue Beetle-- of monitoring duties, and took a seat in front of the countless monitors plugged into news feeds and satellites across the world. And it was then, the world continuing to turn in the early hours, that he finally broke down and wept.

Thaal Sinestro and Katma Tui landed in front of their target destination, and after two steps they had transformed their Green Lantern Corps uniforms into civilian garb. They weren’t undercover so there was no need for subtlety, but it’s not like they spent all their free time in the black and green.

“Have you ever been to Hardcore Station before, Sinestro?” asked Katma.

Hardcore Station. An ancient, nomadic space station that the current owners believe was designed to mine asteroid fields, the creators of the thing had long since died off-- no one knew if it was under mysterious circumstances or not, it had been so long ago and the record books were patchy. The place was run by a conglomerate known as Entrepreneurs, Inc, and there was a private security force keeping the order, so long as they didn’t impact or cause problems for any of the local star systems, the Corps left well enough alone.

“Once, back before I donned the ring. This place travels from sector to sector, cleans up asteroid fields for a small fee and keeps whatever they find inside them. Frozen water they can melt down and sell to drought-stricken systems, fragments of combustible materials… it’s an ugly, heavy duty machine for a job that requires finesse.”

“Are you talking about the station or Guy Gardner?” asked Katma.

Sinestro shrugged. “Yes.”

The commercial district of the space station they’d arrived on was thriving, alien races of various colours, shapes and sizes going about their daily business. Sinestro cast a glance down, toward the base of the floating city, where the mining mechanisms ground through the latest asteroid belt, searching for precious minerals and fuels that the owners of the place could sell. There were massive tubes that were designed to process different types of salvage, be it metal or rock, water or precious mineral.

“I think this is the place,” said Katma, pointing at the bar they’d found their way to.

The duo entered and the place was deserted apart from a booth in the corner occupied by three human males. The bartender waved at Sinestro and Tui with three of his six hands, while the other set poured numerous shots of some iridescent liquor. An old-fashioned jukebox was currently playing Toto IV, and one of the men in the corner was belting out a horrifyingly off-key rendition of I Won’t Hold You Back.

“Hey hey hey!” Guy noticed the newcomers and broke off from his singalong. “They made it!”

“Thank God,” murmured John Stewart.

“Toto… Hydra… Turn Back… and now Toto IV. And he knew all the god damn words,” said Hank.

Guy ignored the complaints of his friends. “You’ll love this place, we’ve got the run of it tonight, and all it cost is that jukebox!”

“Loaded with all the hits, don’t you worry,” said Hank.

The bartender gave them thumbs up. “Hold the line!”

John rolled his eyes but then looked over to Katma. “Hey, did you have any trouble getting in here?”

Katma’s hand brushed against John’s, and she nodded. “Guy’s instructions were pretty good.”

“Is it Christmas again already?” asked Sinestro.

He remembered his last Christmas, spent at the home of Chloe Sullivan and Hal Jordan. Along with Jordan’s daughter and extended family, John had been there; Guy was with Arisia Rrab at the time, but in the time since they’d separated. Hank turned up late, and Kyle didn’t turn up at all. He remembered the food and the drink, the exchange of presents and the camaraderie inherent to the celebration.

This was before their world turned upside down and back again. The disappearance of both Hal Jordan and Kyle Rayner; the return of the mad Kryptonian called Xa-Du and his heinous crimes against the Daxamites; the disappearance and return of Hank Henshaw; the resurgence of Parallax and the revelation regarding his Effigies; and more.

“Yeah, well, you enjoyed it so much last year, I thought it’d be worth trying to get the bad back together,” said Guy.

“Hardcore Station is drifting through Sector 2814 and no one knows us here, it’s away from Earth, I thought it would make an interesting change of scenery than our usual hangouts,” said John.

“So, this was your idea?” said Katma.

John shrugged. “Have you seen the mining mechanism downstairs? I had to get a closer look at that thing.”

“Don’t get him started. He has a speech prepared, it’s actually quite boring,” said Hank.

“Hey now,” said John.

“I’m sorry, man. Just calling it like I see it.”

“Anyway, it’s an open bar and we’ve got the run of the place, so why not pull up a pew and take a load off,” said Guy, gesturing to the booth they’d made themselves home in.

“Barkeep, booze?” said Hank, raising his empty glass.

The bartender swanned over, whistling Africa, and laid out a round of drinks. Even without ordering, each one of them got exactly what they would have wanted, which surprised Katma.

“How’d he--?”

“Alcohol-epathic,” answered Guy. He pointed at himself, then John, Hank, Sinestro and Katma. “Beer; rum and coke; cider (yuck); don’t know; no clue.”

Sinestro considered his egg-nog. “Alien beer. Don’t worry about it, Gardner.”

“So, who wants to make the first speech?” asked John.

“I did it last year, and it was a winner, so I won’t even try and rehash that greatness,” said Guy.

“I’ll take this one, how about that?” said Hank. He held up his glass and smiled. “To absent friends.”

“And to their safe return,” agreed Sinestro.

Their thoughts drifted to Kyle Rayner, the sole White Lantern of the Universe. None of them knew what happened to him, but somehow no one else in the Green Lantern Corps remembered he existed. Katma had to be reminded, but once the seed was planted all the doors that had been closed in her memories had opened.

The constant between the rest of those who remembered? Kyle had tinkered with their rings, made them retain much more than a 100% charge. That meant something. That connected them. A brotherhood within a brotherhood.

And then there was Hal Jordan. His daughter, his partner and him, vanished. No one knew where he’d gone, and no one could find him. Their rings turned up nothing during the search, and not even the enhanced senses of Superman and others in his position could hear or smell or spot a sign of them. They hoped he was alive, but they wouldn’t know until they saw him for themselves… and with Black Hand hunting the backwaters of America for him, they prayed they found him before that walking monster.

The five Green Lanterns-- the five friends who were closer than family-- toasted their drinks together, alien booze spilling out in a cascade of colour, splashing into each other’s beverage in their exuberance, and cheered. They drank deep and their night began, stories exchanged and laughs shared.

For every horror, for every mission that went down the wire, they had moments like this. And even with absent friends, they knew they’d be reunited someday soon, be it the day after, in a month, the Christmas after or time after that.

They had each other, and to these Green Lanterns, that’s all that mattered.