trajectory from me to you
Jan. 10th, 2022 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
softpunkshal jordan & kyle rayner // ~7k
> fill for dckinkmeme, deaged Kyle thinks Hal is his real dad
When Hal left Kyle behind in the Watchtower with the League, Kyle was unconscious and still very much a twenty-something adult male. The incident that left him in this state was extraterrestrial in nature, so Hal would’ve normally taken him to be Mogo, but Kyle had said days prior that he missed the League, and Hal figured it was best to kill two birds with one stone.
He hadn’t been gone that long, flying to Mogo to give John an update about the situation and the reassurance that the threat had been dealt with—Kyle only needed some downtime to recover. No one was overly worried about him, when Hal had Bruce check on him in the medbay. His vitals were fine and he didn’t sustain any injuries besides a solid conk to the head. His ring was what saved him at the very last minute, but it also made a sizzling sound right after, and Hal didn’t think it was suspicious, distracted by the fact that Kyle blacked out.
Now, Bruce was glaring at Hal like missing that detail made it his fault that they were in this entire predicament, specifically:
“Papa,” the kid said, tugging onto Hal’s leg. “I really like your costume. Green is so cool!”
Hal looked down. Kyle was no longer the twenty-something adult male he’d been when Hal left, but was now some five-year-old brat with baby fat on his cheeks and big toothy grin. His nose was permanently red, which Hal found more amusing than he realized, so he reached over and pinched it.
“Ow,” Kyle said, scrunching up his face.
“That’s what you get for saying costume,” Hal told him. “It’s a uniform.”
Kyle looked at Hal like he was an idiot, before scurrying off because he spotted J’onn. J’onn didn’t react, but Hal swore he could hear the mental sigh he made.
“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Barry commented, now that Kyle was out of earshot.
“What the hell are you talking about?” From the corner of his eye, he caught Bruce still glaring at him. He probably would’ve stomped over to Hal if not for the fact that Clark was in the midst of discussing something with him after Hal had commented about how weirdly Kyle’s white ring had acted after the fight. They were definitely talking about Kyle’s situation, which meant Hal should’ve been there with them, but at the moment, he preferred to stay a safe distance away from Bruce. “Weirder things have happened in space.”
“I’m not talking about that, though it is… different,” Barry trailed off. “I meant when Kyle called you his dad.”
“He’s, like, five. Kids that age think everyone’s their parent. I’m not even the first person he saw when he woke up. He probably called Diana mom.” In fact, Hal was sure the only reason he was mistaken for a dad in the first place was because he hadn’t managed to find time to dye his hair, so some of his silver streaks were peeking out.
“He called Diana ‘lady’, actually, and the first person he saw when he woke up in that state was me,” Barry explained slowly. “And he didn’t call me ‘papa’. He spent most of the time being skittish around everyone because we couldn’t tell him where his mom was and he didn’t recognize anyone until he saw you. Then he started answering our questions, but I think that was only so we could let him go to you. He said he never actually met his dad, but his mom apparently gave him some descriptions of what he looked like, and you’re the only one here who matches all of them.”
Hal stared at him, even though Barry wasn’t the type to lie. “Oh.”
Before Hal could descend into a potential meltdown, someone cleared his throat. It was Bruce, who had somehow snuck up behind them. Typical. “He’s somewhere from five to seven, give or take,” he began, as Clark approached them. “The ring had protected Kyle from sustaining any injuries from the enemy’s attack, but we think it might’ve malfunctioned in the process.”
“There was still some power when you brought him in,” Clark inputted. “But then the ring’s light faded, and this burst of light caught us all off guard. When it disappeared, he became a kid.”
“The blasts from the aliens Hal and Kyle were fighting must’ve had a special side effect that the ring protected Kyle from,” Barry guessed.
“They… regressed things,” Hal said, recalling the fight. He initially thought what they did was shrink or evaporate things, once he looked back and saw that the rocks they hit had minimized, the towering plants disappearing. It was something else, he realized. They only grew smaller because they grew younger. “Kyle’s ring didn’t have a lot of battery on him—he said before that he had to recharge, so it probably wasn’t at full capacity when it shielded him. If his ring’s defunct now, then he must’ve ran out of juice.”
“The ring must’ve absorbed a fraction of the blast’s effects instead of expelling it completely,” Bruce said. “So when the ring powered down, he transformed.”
“Charging it should reverse the process then,” Hal concluded. “It should work. He’s a White Lantern. They have control over all the colors in the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum, plus some literal life-changing properties—don’t look at me like that, Bar, I don’t spend enough time with Kyle to ask about these things. Anyway, in theory, the rings should automatically charge themselves whenever the wearer does something, but Kyle had the foresight to make a backup power battery just in case.”
“Do you know what they have to do for them to charge automatically?” Clark asked.
Hal paused. “Something about actions that constitute ‘living’.”
“Well, that’s vague,” Barry said. “And Kyle’s barely seven—”
“Leaning more to five,” Hal corrected, as if it made things better.
“—he probably can’t even spell the word crochet.”
Hal had to take a second to recount how the spelling went. Bruce, who felt more like League’s telepath instead of J’onn, must’ve been reading Hal’s mind, judging by the withering look he gave him. “Do you know where he puts his power battery?”
Frankly, Hal didn’t even know if Kyle lived anywhere, Earth or otherwise. Hal himself no longer had a permanent address—tending to crash at either Carol or Barry’s place whenever he was back, mostly to assist in fighting their enemies—but he probably came back a bit more often than Kyle did. Being a White Lantern meant he went nearly everywhere, every time. “Nope.”
Bruce sighed.
“He’s not the only White Lantern anymore though,” Hal added. “We can search for another Corps member of his and borrow their power battery.”
“What guarantee do we have that they’re trustworthy?”
Hal shrugged. “I mean, Kyle trusted them with the rings and portions of the Life Equation, and the universe is still in one piece.”
Despite how Bruce’s face remained mostly unreadable because of the mask, there was the hint of a grimace that meant he was unimpressed, and it was the kind of look he always had for Hal, even though this wasn’t even his. Luckily, Clark interjected with, “So how do we locate them?”
They couldn’t use Kyle’s ring to locate the other White Lanterns, and Hal doubted they could manage to teach him to even use it when it couldn’t be charged—or how to charge it himself—when Kyle was currently playing by the steps that led to the teleporters with Victor, and was clearly having a hard time understanding and accepting that the holograms flashed in front of him were not actually real and tangible. They had to do things the old-fashioned way, visiting popular sectors and places where travelers gravitated to and asking around.
Either way, they could only find their answers in space. And it wasn’t a job that they needed the entire League for—just Hal, really, who was the most familiar with space since he was there more than he was on Earth—but he did need Kyle with him since it was his ring they needed to charge and separating him from it wasn’t an option. Neither was taking the power battery of the White Lantern they were borrowing from all the way here, at the risk of making them feel intimidated by being in their home turf and ultimately uncooperative.
Hal should’ve expected that as straightforward as the plan was, it was bound to cause an uproar.
“Kyle wouldn’t be safe in space,” Bruce pointed out. “He’s a child—he doesn’t know how to protect himself, and there’s no guarantee you can protect him.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been up to out there,” Hal retorted.
Bruce was undeterred. “He needs to stay on Earth with us.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself, Bruce. We both know why you want him to stay here. You do realize adopting kids doesn’t actually count as a healthy coping mechanism, you know?” Hal said. “And there’s no way I’d ever trust someone like you with Kyle! You don’t know how to be a decent dad to your kids half the time! Don’t think none of us know about the things you put each of your Robins through!”
Bruce took a menacing step forward. “Don’t bring my kids into this.”
Clark clamped his hands on both of their shoulders, and despite his strong grip, his voice was cautious. “How about Kyle staying with me instead?” he offered. “Jon’s a bit older than Kyle is right now, but he’s always looking forward to meeting new friends.”
“Or how about,” Barry suddenly interrupted loudly. “We ask Kyle what he wants to do.”
He’d disappeared from the conversation at some point, which Hal didn’t think much about until he reappeared with Kyle clinging onto his shoulders. The shouting faded under Kyle’s wide-eyed gaze.
“Kyle?” Barry prompted gently, and Hal thought—if he had to leave Kyle behind with anyone in the League, it’d probably be with his best friend.
“If—if mama isn’t picking me up,” Kyle started tentatively. Confidence crept in his voice the more he spoke when he realized everyone was listening to him. “Then I wanna go with papa and live in space!”
“You aren’t going to actually live—” Clark said, only to be cut off by Bruce.
“You’re already in space, Kyle,” Bruce pointed out softly. “We’re in this place called the Watchtower. It’s a house we made for space.”
“But I want to go to outer space,” Kyle protested, like it was something entirely different. “And when papa left before, I thought he’d be gone forever, ‘cause that’s what mama said, but you’re back, so you have to take me with you!”
Everyone finally looked at Hal, but Hal only stared back at Kyle. Hal had no idea what the rest of them were thinking, but he had no plans of correcting Kyle by telling him he was not, in fact, his real dad. For all that Carol liked to joke that Hal had daddy issues, Hal’s sensitivity was because they were meaningful to him. There was no way Hal could ever substitute for being a real father to Kyle, and it was unlikely that he’d even remember this entire experience even once he returned to normal—which was, as far as Hal was concerned, a good thing. But Hal had always been soft on the kid, even as an adult, and it wasn’t fair that he was deprived of any sort of conventional relationship with a father figure in his life.
It would be temporary, and it wouldn’t be real, but it was still something, and it was better than anything Kyle had actually ever got in his childhood, which was nothing.
“No problem, kid,” Hal said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Just tell me if you’re scared. We’ll be flying to places you wouldn’t even be able to imagine.”
“I won’t be scared,” Kyle told him confidently.
“‘Course you won’t. You’re flying with me.” Hal grinned. “And you’ve never flown with me.”
On Earth, there were specific spots that criminals were known to occupy frequently. It was a surprisingly universal thing, certain places being great hotspots to collect information when everyone had some knowledge of everyone else, legally and illegally alike. The Corps tended not to raid those locations if its patrons weren’t officially reported for any recent crimes, because you didn’t arrest folks based on suspicion alone.
Hal needed information for White Lanterns though, so he didn’t need to resort to underground tactics or communication. Normally, he didn’t think much about getting his hands dirty, but the Corps was trying to build a better image, making up for all the Guardians’ mistakes, and with Kyle around, the less trouble there was, the better. Hal didn’t doubt his ability to protect Kyle, but that didn’t mean they had to dive face first into trouble. Nothing was worth Kyle’s life.
The planet Yopon barely had any gravity outside. They were most known for their infrastructure that suspended itself midair and cruise ships that could either levitate close to the planet’s grounds or higher than their skyscrapers. Gambling wasn’t illegal here, so there were a couple of cruise ships that specialized in them, though each one doubled as other things as well in order to stay relevant and unique, like pubs or inns or restaurants. The informants Hal had in mind often populated these places, and it was just a matter of heading to each one and asking around until he got something.
“Stay here,” Hal told Kyle, the construct plane hovering near the first cruise ship Hal had been eyeing.
“No,” Kyle whined. “Lemme come with you.”
“What, that ride wasn’t enough for you?”
“No!” Kyle giggled excitedly. “I wanna see aliens, papa.”
“Alright, alright.” Keeping him close would be better for Hal anyway. His constructs could extend far and he didn’t need to actively think about them for them to be maintained, but if his concentration faltered even in the slightest, he didn’t want Kyle to be far when it happened. At least the air on Yopon was breathable for them.
Kyle insisted Hal carry him, which was why Hal had walked into the first cruise ship with a ridiculously clingy kid sitting on his shoulders. It painted a less than intimidating picture, but when Hal raised his voice and introduced himself to all the customers there, they stopped their activities and turned their heads towards him, recognizing the uniform, and more importantly, the name. Hal had accomplished enough for his image to not even let an accompanying kid make a dent on his reputation, so it only took him two more stops of popping up and flashing the White Lantern badge to everyone, asking if anyone could tell him where to find individuals who wore the symbol, before he got the directions he needed to find the right cruise ship, and the passenger who could give him what he wanted.
It was obvious that Kyle was more than impressed. Hal was glad that Kyle withheld his excitement until they left the ships before he would whoop loudly and exclaim, “Papa, did you see their faces? Everyone knows your name! You’re amazing!”
Barry always said his ego was a little inflated, and this definitely didn’t help. At least it made up for the fact that Kyle kept on pulling his hair to stay in place, taking an unfair fascination to the silver streaks. He didn’t plan on getting down anytime soon either. “‘Course I am,” Hal said, grabbing Kyle’s legs to keep him steady because he was swinging them too much. “I’m a Green Lantern.”
“I wanna… I wanna be a Green Lantern too.”
“You definitely can be.”
“Now?” Kyle peered down at him, eyes hopeful.
“When you’re older.”
Kyle made a face. Hal couldn’t help but pinch Kyle’s nose again, but that only made Kyle whine and wiggle, so he eventually let go.
It was rare for Hal to work without the possibility for a fight to break out, especially in these areas, but for once, he got what he wanted without anyone wanting to resort to violence. The informant was a burly-looking alien, but he wasn’t in the mood to get on Hal’s bad side, and only requested payment instead.
It seemed legitimate. A White Lantern was spotted in Sector 872, using their powers to aid in rebuilding the destroyed planet, supposedly because that was their home. Foreign traders had seen symbols in the sky that matched the White Lantern symbol, acting as a protective barrier in case any external forces intended to attack the recuperating cities. Definitely better than nothing, and Hal had been in space long enough to have the foresight to have cash on hand to pay the informant. He had no reason to push it, to decline. Green Lanterns had to do things the right, formal way, even if circumstances sometimes needed them to do the opposite when lives were on the line, and his priority was still in keeping Kyle as safe as possible.
“Papa,” Kyle said, watching Hal take out a pouch to set down the money on the table between them. He’d been quiet when they entered this latest cruise ship, noticing that most of its patrons looked even more unique than the previous ones. This place held more of the ruffians, even if the atmosphere was currently civil, and Hal had wondered if he overestimated Kyle’s ability to remain in awe rather than terrified at all these new things he was seeing. Kyle had crouched closer to Hal, as if he was trying to hide himself behind Hal’s head. “I wanna help. Can I help?”
Hal paused. “Sure,” he said, because Kyle’s silence had begun to unnerve him, and it was good to know that if he was scared, he was either doing a good job at not showing it or was trying to get over it. Finding something to concentrate on would help. “Mind counting the money we need to give this friendly fella here?”
“I can do it,” Kyle insisted. “I can count up to more than a hundred.”
“That’s awesome, but we don’t need numbers that big around here.” He set Kyle down on the chair carefully, and Kyle had to stand on the seat in order to be seen above the table. Hal placed the bag of money in front of him. “There are a bunch of long blocks and short blocks in here. Two short blocks equal one long block, and we owe this guy five long blocks.”
The blocks were tough but ultimately malleable, taking on a clay-like texture and coming in two distinct shapes: rectangular prisms and cubes. Kyle looked like he knew what he was doing, and he seemed to understand Hal’s instructions easily enough, because he nodded. “Okay.”
Hal smiled. “Let me know once you’ve given our friend here his money. I’ll just go look up nice places for us to turn in for the night.”
He memorized how much money they had, and they were missing one more rectangular block he was supposed to. When Hal asked Kyle to recount what happened in as much detail as he could, he found out that their informant had tricked Kyle into thinking that the rectangular block had less value by reshaping it into a slightly larger cube right in front of him. Hal recalled seeing Kyle take out five long blocks, but the informant altered the shape of one so that Kyle would give him one additional cube, more than what was owed.
Hal felt angry over being so obviously played like that until he remembered Kyle was five and probably didn’t understand that just because something changed shape didn’t mean it had a different volume. Guy talked about something like that once, a kid’s inability to reverse and conserve properties or whatever. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault, just Hal’s for not accounting for this happening. Still, he was annoyed that the informant didn’t even bother being sneaky about it.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said meekly. Hal had changed the construct aircraft they were originally on into a sailboat. Standing in the middle of the deck, Kyle looked so small—smaller than he’d been projecting this entire time, with his wide eyes and loud voice, as if he wanted to take all the space in the room just so Hal wouldn’t forget he was there.
“It’s fine, kiddo,” Hal said, even though it wasn’t really fine. A cube block here was the equivalent to a few hundred dollars on Earth, so now his calculations for their food and hotel stay were messed up. “We just might have to rethink what we’re getting for dinner or where we’re sleeping tonight.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kyle said again. He sat down, pulled his knees together, and looked like he was about to hide his face in his hands to cry. Hal panicked and knelt down, gently prying Kyle’s hands away.
“I’m not mad, Kyle, I’m not.”
“You’re not happy,” Kyle murmured. “‘S my fault. Don’t leave.”
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Hal’s voice had turned soft, chest aching at where Kyle’s thoughts were going. “And yeah, I’m not happy, but who I’m really mad at is that big guy for messing with you. He wasn’t being fair to you, and that wasn’t cool with me.” Kyle sniffled and looked at Hal. “I’m actually proud of you for having the guts to want to help, you know. We’re in this strange place with strange-looking people, so it might’ve been scary—”
“I wasn’t scared,” Kyle argued.
“Okay, so not scared, but definitely weirded out, and that’s enough to stop people from doing anything. But you still wanted to help me, even if you didn’t have to, and for that, I’m thankful. Doesn’t matter what happened afterwards,” Hal explained. “I’ve been alone for some time, so I’m not used to someone having my back, but if I could have anyone do it, then I’m glad it’s you. Alright?”
Kyle nodded. He no longer looked upset, even if his eyes were a little teary. “Alright.”
Hal conjured up a tissue box and handed it to Kyle, who took a piece and blew his nose obnoxiously loudly. He sneezed right after, but shit, Kyle was just too cute, and the moment felt right, so Hal wrapped his arms around Kyle in an embrace, and Kyle practically melted into his touch. Hal didn’t remember ever being this affectionate with his old man, and he knew Kyle’s mother was good to him, but he supposed there was a difference between touch-starved for anyone’s affection and touch-starved for a specific person. Hal had half a mind to go search for Kyle’s real father after this entire ordeal was fixed to give him a piece of his mind, but that wouldn’t take back the time and childhood Kyle lost, so he simply held onto the kid tightly, understanding he made more of a difference doing this.
Kyle wasn’t a picky eater, but to cheer him up, Hal said he’d try his best to make a dish he wanted given their current situation for dinner, and the kid asked for quesadilla. “With adobada,” he added.
“What?”
“A-do-ba-da,” Kyle said slowly. “Mama said that’s what you ate when you two fell in love! She said it was really good.”
The ring knew everything the Guardians knew, which was supposed to be everything, but adobada sure as hell wasn’t one of them. Hal had a vague idea of what quesadillas were like despite never having one—similar to tacos, but cheese was a very key factor—and this shoddy knowledge would have to do given the ring didn’t come with recipe information and Kyle couldn’t explain what adobada was. It was probably some kind of meat with a special marinade, and Hal only hoped that whatever he managed to make with the ingredients he had on hand, it was similar enough to what Kyle wanted.
Their hotel room had no kitchenette, but it did have a large balcony with something that looked like a fire pit, so Hal lit a flame and used his constructs to cook their dinner. In the end, he scrambled up something that was close enough to tortilla, cheese, and pork to make the quesadilla Kyle wanted, and grilled it over the fire while Kyle entertained himself with the sketchpad and coloring materials Hal made for him using his ring. It was the only thing Kyle was interested in doing that didn’t require Hal’s involvement, and Hal found it interesting that art was something Kyle was into even at that age.
Hal’s marinade had been pretty random, but the quesadilla ended up being a bit saltier than normal. Kyle said it tasted weird, but since it was alien food, it made sense, and he still enjoyed it because Hal was the one who made it for him. After cleaning up, Hal had Kyle take all his art supplies to the balcony with him so they could sit around the warm fire and stargaze. Despite being in a completely different galaxy, the stars on this planet had the same ones on Earth. When Hal was younger, when his dad was still alive, every moment they didn’t spend flying, they spent talking about it, detailing the ways they would soar high enough to reach space and touch constellations, let the wind kiss their cheeks until they were freed from gravity’s limitations. His dad was born to fly, and even on the off-chance that Hal wasn’t the same, he would’ve done everything he could just to have that same right. It was one of the brightest memories in Hal’s life, a reminder that he could never be anything but what he was right now.
Flying wasn’t something Hal and Kyle talked about though. As high as Hal flew, as renowned as his name became, Kyle had reached heights Hal was never able to, but that was because what Kyle had was imagination. All he wanted to talk about was art, showing off the doodles he made on Hal’s makeshift sketchpad and explaining that there was an overarching story behind everything he made. There was a plane, and there was a man, who Kyle said was Hal. The plane could only fit one person, so Hal couldn’t take Kyle with him. Kyle’s mother was afraid of the unknown, so she didn’t mind that Hal wanted to leave, but because Kyle wanted to go with him, both parents spent three days and three nights building a sailboat that could fit both father and son.
Kyle was at least five years old, and even if he became a skilled artist when he grew up, his art now was crude at best, but Hal still diligently used his ring to mimic Kyle’s drawings, making them three-dimensional and come to life based on what he described.
“And then,” Kyle concluded. “Papa and I told mama that we would make sure to eat well and bring back a gift for her when we came back, and then we went to space!”
It wasn’t the most original thing Hal heard, but he was impressed by how Kyle gave the boat wings and how he narrated so solemnly.
“Sounds like we did a lot in your story,” Hal told him. “Are you tired?”
“No,” Kyle said, but his voice came out a bit scratchy from talking too much, and he was blinking owlishly up at Hal.
Hal tried not to grin. They’d been sitting on a thick blanket, and he used his ring to transform it into a thick mattress under them. He let his uniform fade away and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over Kyle, who immediately snuggled against it for warmth. His drowsiness was more apparent now, but he probably needed one more nudge, so Hal reached over to grab a small mug and filled it with pink, hot liquid before handing it to Kyle. “Here. This is Yopon’s version of hot cocoa.”
“Ooh,” Kyle’s eyes widened, taking a sip. His face broke out in a small smile. The steam of the drink made his nose a little redder. “Papa, it’s even better than what mama makes.”
“Don’t tell her you said that,” Hal said, distantly thinking it was sad he never got to meet Kyle’s mom. “This drink will be our little secret. But you can only have one, okay? I know you’re sleepy, and one more might end up having the opposite effect on you since you’ll wanna pee so much.”
Hal wiggled his fingers at Kyle and tickled his stomach, and Kyle tried to bat his hand away while making sure he didn’t spill his drink. “No, I don’t wanna pee,” Kyle whined. When Hal stopped, Kyle went back to smiling, now satisfied, and he fell silent, sipping from the mug every few seconds like he couldn’t get enough but wanted to try to make the most out of it. “Papa,” he began shyly. Hal glanced at him. “I’m not supposed to be like this, right? Like, I’m bigger, right? That’s what Flashman said. ‘Cause if I am, then I can’t wait to be a big grown up again..”
“Why’s that?”
“‘Cause I wanna remember all the cool stuff we do!” Kyle exclaimed, before pausing. “We do cool stuff, right? Together?”
“I—” For a split second, Hal was at a loss on what to say. He’d been neither lying nor telling the truth to Kyle—just never addressing the fact that whenever Kyle referred to him as his dad, it wasn’t actually right. “We… the two of us do a lot of cool things together,” he settled for instead, because there was no need for them to specify whether or not it was as father and son. He didn’t know how well that would go along with Kyle anyway, if he revealed the truth now, after everything they just went through together. Hal didn’t even know if he was still doing this because he wanted to specifically give the kid something he never actually had; more than anything, it just felt like something Hal was doing because Kyle was a good kid—literally, and Hal simply found himself reciprocating in his own way to that goodness.
“But now that I think about it, we could definitely afford to go on more,” he added. “Kyle, listen—the thing is, in life, anything can happen. The future’s almost always uncertain, even the memories you’ll have when you get big again and revert back to normal.”
“Oh,” Kyle replied, sounding disheartened.
“Aw, geez—that wasn’t what I meant,” Hal said. “I’m trying to tell you that because the future’s uncertain, you should make the most out of what is certain, and that’s moments like these. All the right nows. You get what I mean?”
After a pause, Kyle nodded, looking a little starry-eyed at Hal the same way civilians did whenever Clark said something particularly heartwarming and inspiring. Hal wanted to laugh. He wanted to pinch Kyle’s cheeks. He wanted Bruce to be here just so he could gloat that Kyle was clearly taking his words to heart and found him awesome. “The right nows,” Kyle repeated, like he wanted to remember the words. Then his face turned bashful again. “So… can I have another cup of cocoa before sleeping right now, papa?”
This time, Hal did laugh. “Sure thing,” he relented. “But only after you finish this one.”
“He’s not a bad kid,” Hal told her, when she set down the power battery and Kyle wandered towards it, curious.
Saysoran shook her head. “It’s not a matter of whether he’s good or not,” she explained. “I have nothing against children, nor him as a child, but he is the leader of the White Lantern Corps. Though we may not move in groups like the rest of you do, we still acknowledge his importance. It does not bode well if he cannot attend to his responsibilities for long.”
“I—you’re right,” Hal sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just give me a moment to say… goodbye, I guess.”
That seemed to amuse Saysoran. “He is not dead.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I understand,” Saysoran said, tone much gentler. “Most of my people have left home when we were under attack, and even now with renovations, many have yet to return. My sister was one of them. She was newly born when they all had to leave, but I had spent a few months with her before then. Now—”
She didn’t get to finish her statement, because a burst of white light had suddenly caught their attention, coming from Kyle and Saysoran’s power battery, and the light grew so much it blinded them. All Hal could think about was Kyle though, worried that he’d gotten hurt because Hal wasn’t attentive enough to protect him. “Shit. Kyle!”
There was no response. At last, the light dimmed, leaving behind Saysoran’s power battery that buzzed with electricity, and Kyle, slumped beside the power battery and unconscious, reverted back to his twenty-something self. His ring glistened, finally charged, but he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He was in civilian clothes, wearing Hal’s jacket.
Just like that, Kyle was back to normal. It was sudden and… uneventful, given how yesterday had gone by. But what was done was done, and Hal was hard-pressed to say that he regretted it. It wouldn’t have been fair. Still, Hal lifted Kyle and sighed, not knowing if it was out of relief or disappointment.
“Thanks,” Hal told Saysoran, who was giving him a peculiar look. He suddenly remembered that she was in the midst of telling him something. “What was that you were saying earlier?”
Saysoran shook her head. “My sister and I knew one another, but she was too young to remember me. When she eventually returns back to Sussurus, it will have been years since, and she will no longer recognize me, but that does not mean the time we had together meant nothing. We carry these memories in us for as long as we live, even if he cannot consciously recall them. Perhaps that is something worth keeping in mind, Green Lantern.”
“Maybe,” Hal said, because he didn’t know what else to say to that. “I think we need to go. He’s got a couple of people worrying about him back on our planet. Good luck with renovations.”
“May you have a safe journey back home,” Saysoran told him. “And thank you for looking after my Corps leader. Tell him I said hello.”
Hal didn’t see Kyle again until two months later. Kyle visited Mogo as much as he visited Earth, which was barely, but John commented that Kyle was around after Hal had given his report of the successful diplomatic mission he was sent on. John didn’t tell Hal where Kyle was, but it was easy to figure out where he’d be staying—there was a cliff spot in the planet in the middle of their forest, and Kyle once said it was a nice, quiet spot to doodle and occasionally think.
When Hal finally got there though, Kyle was doing neither of those things. Instead, he was using his ring to conjure up constructs in front of him, creating robots that looked so complex that they seemed to come out of obscure movies or TV shows Hal didn’t recognize and watching them fight one another. Hal dropped himself beside Kyle. “Reliving your Green Lantern glory days?” he asked in lieu of a greeting. Kyle was using the green light to make them, even if his white light could do the same thing. “Haven’t seen you use that in a while.”
“Reliving some fond memories, actually,” Kyle answered, grinning. “Want a drink?”
He fished out a thermos. Using the cap as a cup, he poured in something brown and thick. It had a distinct smell that Hal thought was familiar, and it took him a moment before he realized what it was: hot chocolate, the Earth kind. Kyle remembered.
Still, he said nothing, even when Hal glanced expectedly at him. It occurred to Hal that Kyle wasn’t going to give one, because Kyle, as an adult, was shy about confrontations and honesty that way, and when Hal thought about it, then his conversation with Saysoran, he supposed he didn’t really need one. The hot chocolate Kyle was offering him—it said enough. It was some kind of unsaid gesture of gratitude.
“Thank you,” Hal said, finally accepting the cup. He took a tentative sip, surprised by how it tasted better than he thought. “Hey, Kyle.”
“Yeah?”
“You happen to know what adobada is?” he asked. “Someone told me about it once, but I never got around to checking what it was about. It’s supposed to be really good.”
Kyle looked at him in surprise, and his nose turned a little pink in what Hal realized was embarrassment. Hal made sure to hide his smile behind his drink.
> fill for dckinkmeme, deaged Kyle thinks Hal is his real dad
When Hal left Kyle behind in the Watchtower with the League, Kyle was unconscious and still very much a twenty-something adult male. The incident that left him in this state was extraterrestrial in nature, so Hal would’ve normally taken him to be Mogo, but Kyle had said days prior that he missed the League, and Hal figured it was best to kill two birds with one stone.
He hadn’t been gone that long, flying to Mogo to give John an update about the situation and the reassurance that the threat had been dealt with—Kyle only needed some downtime to recover. No one was overly worried about him, when Hal had Bruce check on him in the medbay. His vitals were fine and he didn’t sustain any injuries besides a solid conk to the head. His ring was what saved him at the very last minute, but it also made a sizzling sound right after, and Hal didn’t think it was suspicious, distracted by the fact that Kyle blacked out.
Now, Bruce was glaring at Hal like missing that detail made it his fault that they were in this entire predicament, specifically:
“Papa,” the kid said, tugging onto Hal’s leg. “I really like your costume. Green is so cool!”
Hal looked down. Kyle was no longer the twenty-something adult male he’d been when Hal left, but was now some five-year-old brat with baby fat on his cheeks and big toothy grin. His nose was permanently red, which Hal found more amusing than he realized, so he reached over and pinched it.
“Ow,” Kyle said, scrunching up his face.
“That’s what you get for saying costume,” Hal told him. “It’s a uniform.”
Kyle looked at Hal like he was an idiot, before scurrying off because he spotted J’onn. J’onn didn’t react, but Hal swore he could hear the mental sigh he made.
“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Barry commented, now that Kyle was out of earshot.
“What the hell are you talking about?” From the corner of his eye, he caught Bruce still glaring at him. He probably would’ve stomped over to Hal if not for the fact that Clark was in the midst of discussing something with him after Hal had commented about how weirdly Kyle’s white ring had acted after the fight. They were definitely talking about Kyle’s situation, which meant Hal should’ve been there with them, but at the moment, he preferred to stay a safe distance away from Bruce. “Weirder things have happened in space.”
“I’m not talking about that, though it is… different,” Barry trailed off. “I meant when Kyle called you his dad.”
“He’s, like, five. Kids that age think everyone’s their parent. I’m not even the first person he saw when he woke up. He probably called Diana mom.” In fact, Hal was sure the only reason he was mistaken for a dad in the first place was because he hadn’t managed to find time to dye his hair, so some of his silver streaks were peeking out.
“He called Diana ‘lady’, actually, and the first person he saw when he woke up in that state was me,” Barry explained slowly. “And he didn’t call me ‘papa’. He spent most of the time being skittish around everyone because we couldn’t tell him where his mom was and he didn’t recognize anyone until he saw you. Then he started answering our questions, but I think that was only so we could let him go to you. He said he never actually met his dad, but his mom apparently gave him some descriptions of what he looked like, and you’re the only one here who matches all of them.”
Hal stared at him, even though Barry wasn’t the type to lie. “Oh.”
Before Hal could descend into a potential meltdown, someone cleared his throat. It was Bruce, who had somehow snuck up behind them. Typical. “He’s somewhere from five to seven, give or take,” he began, as Clark approached them. “The ring had protected Kyle from sustaining any injuries from the enemy’s attack, but we think it might’ve malfunctioned in the process.”
“There was still some power when you brought him in,” Clark inputted. “But then the ring’s light faded, and this burst of light caught us all off guard. When it disappeared, he became a kid.”
“The blasts from the aliens Hal and Kyle were fighting must’ve had a special side effect that the ring protected Kyle from,” Barry guessed.
“They… regressed things,” Hal said, recalling the fight. He initially thought what they did was shrink or evaporate things, once he looked back and saw that the rocks they hit had minimized, the towering plants disappearing. It was something else, he realized. They only grew smaller because they grew younger. “Kyle’s ring didn’t have a lot of battery on him—he said before that he had to recharge, so it probably wasn’t at full capacity when it shielded him. If his ring’s defunct now, then he must’ve ran out of juice.”
“The ring must’ve absorbed a fraction of the blast’s effects instead of expelling it completely,” Bruce said. “So when the ring powered down, he transformed.”
“Charging it should reverse the process then,” Hal concluded. “It should work. He’s a White Lantern. They have control over all the colors in the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum, plus some literal life-changing properties—don’t look at me like that, Bar, I don’t spend enough time with Kyle to ask about these things. Anyway, in theory, the rings should automatically charge themselves whenever the wearer does something, but Kyle had the foresight to make a backup power battery just in case.”
“Do you know what they have to do for them to charge automatically?” Clark asked.
Hal paused. “Something about actions that constitute ‘living’.”
“Well, that’s vague,” Barry said. “And Kyle’s barely seven—”
“Leaning more to five,” Hal corrected, as if it made things better.
“—he probably can’t even spell the word crochet.”
Hal had to take a second to recount how the spelling went. Bruce, who felt more like League’s telepath instead of J’onn, must’ve been reading Hal’s mind, judging by the withering look he gave him. “Do you know where he puts his power battery?”
Frankly, Hal didn’t even know if Kyle lived anywhere, Earth or otherwise. Hal himself no longer had a permanent address—tending to crash at either Carol or Barry’s place whenever he was back, mostly to assist in fighting their enemies—but he probably came back a bit more often than Kyle did. Being a White Lantern meant he went nearly everywhere, every time. “Nope.”
Bruce sighed.
“He’s not the only White Lantern anymore though,” Hal added. “We can search for another Corps member of his and borrow their power battery.”
“What guarantee do we have that they’re trustworthy?”
Hal shrugged. “I mean, Kyle trusted them with the rings and portions of the Life Equation, and the universe is still in one piece.”
Despite how Bruce’s face remained mostly unreadable because of the mask, there was the hint of a grimace that meant he was unimpressed, and it was the kind of look he always had for Hal, even though this wasn’t even his. Luckily, Clark interjected with, “So how do we locate them?”
They couldn’t use Kyle’s ring to locate the other White Lanterns, and Hal doubted they could manage to teach him to even use it when it couldn’t be charged—or how to charge it himself—when Kyle was currently playing by the steps that led to the teleporters with Victor, and was clearly having a hard time understanding and accepting that the holograms flashed in front of him were not actually real and tangible. They had to do things the old-fashioned way, visiting popular sectors and places where travelers gravitated to and asking around.
Either way, they could only find their answers in space. And it wasn’t a job that they needed the entire League for—just Hal, really, who was the most familiar with space since he was there more than he was on Earth—but he did need Kyle with him since it was his ring they needed to charge and separating him from it wasn’t an option. Neither was taking the power battery of the White Lantern they were borrowing from all the way here, at the risk of making them feel intimidated by being in their home turf and ultimately uncooperative.
Hal should’ve expected that as straightforward as the plan was, it was bound to cause an uproar.
“Kyle wouldn’t be safe in space,” Bruce pointed out. “He’s a child—he doesn’t know how to protect himself, and there’s no guarantee you can protect him.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been up to out there,” Hal retorted.
Bruce was undeterred. “He needs to stay on Earth with us.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself, Bruce. We both know why you want him to stay here. You do realize adopting kids doesn’t actually count as a healthy coping mechanism, you know?” Hal said. “And there’s no way I’d ever trust someone like you with Kyle! You don’t know how to be a decent dad to your kids half the time! Don’t think none of us know about the things you put each of your Robins through!”
Bruce took a menacing step forward. “Don’t bring my kids into this.”
Clark clamped his hands on both of their shoulders, and despite his strong grip, his voice was cautious. “How about Kyle staying with me instead?” he offered. “Jon’s a bit older than Kyle is right now, but he’s always looking forward to meeting new friends.”
“Or how about,” Barry suddenly interrupted loudly. “We ask Kyle what he wants to do.”
He’d disappeared from the conversation at some point, which Hal didn’t think much about until he reappeared with Kyle clinging onto his shoulders. The shouting faded under Kyle’s wide-eyed gaze.
“Kyle?” Barry prompted gently, and Hal thought—if he had to leave Kyle behind with anyone in the League, it’d probably be with his best friend.
“If—if mama isn’t picking me up,” Kyle started tentatively. Confidence crept in his voice the more he spoke when he realized everyone was listening to him. “Then I wanna go with papa and live in space!”
“You aren’t going to actually live—” Clark said, only to be cut off by Bruce.
“You’re already in space, Kyle,” Bruce pointed out softly. “We’re in this place called the Watchtower. It’s a house we made for space.”
“But I want to go to outer space,” Kyle protested, like it was something entirely different. “And when papa left before, I thought he’d be gone forever, ‘cause that’s what mama said, but you’re back, so you have to take me with you!”
Everyone finally looked at Hal, but Hal only stared back at Kyle. Hal had no idea what the rest of them were thinking, but he had no plans of correcting Kyle by telling him he was not, in fact, his real dad. For all that Carol liked to joke that Hal had daddy issues, Hal’s sensitivity was because they were meaningful to him. There was no way Hal could ever substitute for being a real father to Kyle, and it was unlikely that he’d even remember this entire experience even once he returned to normal—which was, as far as Hal was concerned, a good thing. But Hal had always been soft on the kid, even as an adult, and it wasn’t fair that he was deprived of any sort of conventional relationship with a father figure in his life.
It would be temporary, and it wouldn’t be real, but it was still something, and it was better than anything Kyle had actually ever got in his childhood, which was nothing.
“No problem, kid,” Hal said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Just tell me if you’re scared. We’ll be flying to places you wouldn’t even be able to imagine.”
“I won’t be scared,” Kyle told him confidently.
“‘Course you won’t. You’re flying with me.” Hal grinned. “And you’ve never flown with me.”
==
Kyle was a bit of a monkey, wanting Hal to give him a piggyback for the duration of the trip. There was a reason Hal had made an airplane construct with a backseat though, so Kyle had reluctantly obeyed Hal’s instructions in exchange for riding a boat construct later. He spent the entire ride describing what he wanted the boat to look like, because aircrafts were cool, but not as cool as boats, because it turned out that Kyle had spent months insisting he was going to be a pirate. It didn’t matter that now that he knew that Hal was a space cop, he said he was going to be an alien.On Earth, there were specific spots that criminals were known to occupy frequently. It was a surprisingly universal thing, certain places being great hotspots to collect information when everyone had some knowledge of everyone else, legally and illegally alike. The Corps tended not to raid those locations if its patrons weren’t officially reported for any recent crimes, because you didn’t arrest folks based on suspicion alone.
Hal needed information for White Lanterns though, so he didn’t need to resort to underground tactics or communication. Normally, he didn’t think much about getting his hands dirty, but the Corps was trying to build a better image, making up for all the Guardians’ mistakes, and with Kyle around, the less trouble there was, the better. Hal didn’t doubt his ability to protect Kyle, but that didn’t mean they had to dive face first into trouble. Nothing was worth Kyle’s life.
The planet Yopon barely had any gravity outside. They were most known for their infrastructure that suspended itself midair and cruise ships that could either levitate close to the planet’s grounds or higher than their skyscrapers. Gambling wasn’t illegal here, so there were a couple of cruise ships that specialized in them, though each one doubled as other things as well in order to stay relevant and unique, like pubs or inns or restaurants. The informants Hal had in mind often populated these places, and it was just a matter of heading to each one and asking around until he got something.
“Stay here,” Hal told Kyle, the construct plane hovering near the first cruise ship Hal had been eyeing.
“No,” Kyle whined. “Lemme come with you.”
“What, that ride wasn’t enough for you?”
“No!” Kyle giggled excitedly. “I wanna see aliens, papa.”
“Alright, alright.” Keeping him close would be better for Hal anyway. His constructs could extend far and he didn’t need to actively think about them for them to be maintained, but if his concentration faltered even in the slightest, he didn’t want Kyle to be far when it happened. At least the air on Yopon was breathable for them.
Kyle insisted Hal carry him, which was why Hal had walked into the first cruise ship with a ridiculously clingy kid sitting on his shoulders. It painted a less than intimidating picture, but when Hal raised his voice and introduced himself to all the customers there, they stopped their activities and turned their heads towards him, recognizing the uniform, and more importantly, the name. Hal had accomplished enough for his image to not even let an accompanying kid make a dent on his reputation, so it only took him two more stops of popping up and flashing the White Lantern badge to everyone, asking if anyone could tell him where to find individuals who wore the symbol, before he got the directions he needed to find the right cruise ship, and the passenger who could give him what he wanted.
It was obvious that Kyle was more than impressed. Hal was glad that Kyle withheld his excitement until they left the ships before he would whoop loudly and exclaim, “Papa, did you see their faces? Everyone knows your name! You’re amazing!”
Barry always said his ego was a little inflated, and this definitely didn’t help. At least it made up for the fact that Kyle kept on pulling his hair to stay in place, taking an unfair fascination to the silver streaks. He didn’t plan on getting down anytime soon either. “‘Course I am,” Hal said, grabbing Kyle’s legs to keep him steady because he was swinging them too much. “I’m a Green Lantern.”
“I wanna… I wanna be a Green Lantern too.”
“You definitely can be.”
“Now?” Kyle peered down at him, eyes hopeful.
“When you’re older.”
Kyle made a face. Hal couldn’t help but pinch Kyle’s nose again, but that only made Kyle whine and wiggle, so he eventually let go.
It was rare for Hal to work without the possibility for a fight to break out, especially in these areas, but for once, he got what he wanted without anyone wanting to resort to violence. The informant was a burly-looking alien, but he wasn’t in the mood to get on Hal’s bad side, and only requested payment instead.
It seemed legitimate. A White Lantern was spotted in Sector 872, using their powers to aid in rebuilding the destroyed planet, supposedly because that was their home. Foreign traders had seen symbols in the sky that matched the White Lantern symbol, acting as a protective barrier in case any external forces intended to attack the recuperating cities. Definitely better than nothing, and Hal had been in space long enough to have the foresight to have cash on hand to pay the informant. He had no reason to push it, to decline. Green Lanterns had to do things the right, formal way, even if circumstances sometimes needed them to do the opposite when lives were on the line, and his priority was still in keeping Kyle as safe as possible.
“Papa,” Kyle said, watching Hal take out a pouch to set down the money on the table between them. He’d been quiet when they entered this latest cruise ship, noticing that most of its patrons looked even more unique than the previous ones. This place held more of the ruffians, even if the atmosphere was currently civil, and Hal had wondered if he overestimated Kyle’s ability to remain in awe rather than terrified at all these new things he was seeing. Kyle had crouched closer to Hal, as if he was trying to hide himself behind Hal’s head. “I wanna help. Can I help?”
Hal paused. “Sure,” he said, because Kyle’s silence had begun to unnerve him, and it was good to know that if he was scared, he was either doing a good job at not showing it or was trying to get over it. Finding something to concentrate on would help. “Mind counting the money we need to give this friendly fella here?”
“I can do it,” Kyle insisted. “I can count up to more than a hundred.”
“That’s awesome, but we don’t need numbers that big around here.” He set Kyle down on the chair carefully, and Kyle had to stand on the seat in order to be seen above the table. Hal placed the bag of money in front of him. “There are a bunch of long blocks and short blocks in here. Two short blocks equal one long block, and we owe this guy five long blocks.”
The blocks were tough but ultimately malleable, taking on a clay-like texture and coming in two distinct shapes: rectangular prisms and cubes. Kyle looked like he knew what he was doing, and he seemed to understand Hal’s instructions easily enough, because he nodded. “Okay.”
Hal smiled. “Let me know once you’ve given our friend here his money. I’ll just go look up nice places for us to turn in for the night.”
==
It was only when Hal was recounting the money in the pouch that he realized they’d been scammed.He memorized how much money they had, and they were missing one more rectangular block he was supposed to. When Hal asked Kyle to recount what happened in as much detail as he could, he found out that their informant had tricked Kyle into thinking that the rectangular block had less value by reshaping it into a slightly larger cube right in front of him. Hal recalled seeing Kyle take out five long blocks, but the informant altered the shape of one so that Kyle would give him one additional cube, more than what was owed.
Hal felt angry over being so obviously played like that until he remembered Kyle was five and probably didn’t understand that just because something changed shape didn’t mean it had a different volume. Guy talked about something like that once, a kid’s inability to reverse and conserve properties or whatever. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault, just Hal’s for not accounting for this happening. Still, he was annoyed that the informant didn’t even bother being sneaky about it.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said meekly. Hal had changed the construct aircraft they were originally on into a sailboat. Standing in the middle of the deck, Kyle looked so small—smaller than he’d been projecting this entire time, with his wide eyes and loud voice, as if he wanted to take all the space in the room just so Hal wouldn’t forget he was there.
“It’s fine, kiddo,” Hal said, even though it wasn’t really fine. A cube block here was the equivalent to a few hundred dollars on Earth, so now his calculations for their food and hotel stay were messed up. “We just might have to rethink what we’re getting for dinner or where we’re sleeping tonight.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kyle said again. He sat down, pulled his knees together, and looked like he was about to hide his face in his hands to cry. Hal panicked and knelt down, gently prying Kyle’s hands away.
“I’m not mad, Kyle, I’m not.”
“You’re not happy,” Kyle murmured. “‘S my fault. Don’t leave.”
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Hal’s voice had turned soft, chest aching at where Kyle’s thoughts were going. “And yeah, I’m not happy, but who I’m really mad at is that big guy for messing with you. He wasn’t being fair to you, and that wasn’t cool with me.” Kyle sniffled and looked at Hal. “I’m actually proud of you for having the guts to want to help, you know. We’re in this strange place with strange-looking people, so it might’ve been scary—”
“I wasn’t scared,” Kyle argued.
“Okay, so not scared, but definitely weirded out, and that’s enough to stop people from doing anything. But you still wanted to help me, even if you didn’t have to, and for that, I’m thankful. Doesn’t matter what happened afterwards,” Hal explained. “I’ve been alone for some time, so I’m not used to someone having my back, but if I could have anyone do it, then I’m glad it’s you. Alright?”
Kyle nodded. He no longer looked upset, even if his eyes were a little teary. “Alright.”
Hal conjured up a tissue box and handed it to Kyle, who took a piece and blew his nose obnoxiously loudly. He sneezed right after, but shit, Kyle was just too cute, and the moment felt right, so Hal wrapped his arms around Kyle in an embrace, and Kyle practically melted into his touch. Hal didn’t remember ever being this affectionate with his old man, and he knew Kyle’s mother was good to him, but he supposed there was a difference between touch-starved for anyone’s affection and touch-starved for a specific person. Hal had half a mind to go search for Kyle’s real father after this entire ordeal was fixed to give him a piece of his mind, but that wouldn’t take back the time and childhood Kyle lost, so he simply held onto the kid tightly, understanding he made more of a difference doing this.
==
They opted out of buying already-made food they had in lieu of good old ingredients to cook fresh with the allowance they had. Hal didn’t mind—he knew how to do basic cooking—but everything was alien, and it was a struggle to roam around Yopon’s version of a grocery store and have his ring identify which had the closest properties to the things they often ate on Earth.Kyle wasn’t a picky eater, but to cheer him up, Hal said he’d try his best to make a dish he wanted given their current situation for dinner, and the kid asked for quesadilla. “With adobada,” he added.
“What?”
“A-do-ba-da,” Kyle said slowly. “Mama said that’s what you ate when you two fell in love! She said it was really good.”
The ring knew everything the Guardians knew, which was supposed to be everything, but adobada sure as hell wasn’t one of them. Hal had a vague idea of what quesadillas were like despite never having one—similar to tacos, but cheese was a very key factor—and this shoddy knowledge would have to do given the ring didn’t come with recipe information and Kyle couldn’t explain what adobada was. It was probably some kind of meat with a special marinade, and Hal only hoped that whatever he managed to make with the ingredients he had on hand, it was similar enough to what Kyle wanted.
Their hotel room had no kitchenette, but it did have a large balcony with something that looked like a fire pit, so Hal lit a flame and used his constructs to cook their dinner. In the end, he scrambled up something that was close enough to tortilla, cheese, and pork to make the quesadilla Kyle wanted, and grilled it over the fire while Kyle entertained himself with the sketchpad and coloring materials Hal made for him using his ring. It was the only thing Kyle was interested in doing that didn’t require Hal’s involvement, and Hal found it interesting that art was something Kyle was into even at that age.
Hal’s marinade had been pretty random, but the quesadilla ended up being a bit saltier than normal. Kyle said it tasted weird, but since it was alien food, it made sense, and he still enjoyed it because Hal was the one who made it for him. After cleaning up, Hal had Kyle take all his art supplies to the balcony with him so they could sit around the warm fire and stargaze. Despite being in a completely different galaxy, the stars on this planet had the same ones on Earth. When Hal was younger, when his dad was still alive, every moment they didn’t spend flying, they spent talking about it, detailing the ways they would soar high enough to reach space and touch constellations, let the wind kiss their cheeks until they were freed from gravity’s limitations. His dad was born to fly, and even on the off-chance that Hal wasn’t the same, he would’ve done everything he could just to have that same right. It was one of the brightest memories in Hal’s life, a reminder that he could never be anything but what he was right now.
Flying wasn’t something Hal and Kyle talked about though. As high as Hal flew, as renowned as his name became, Kyle had reached heights Hal was never able to, but that was because what Kyle had was imagination. All he wanted to talk about was art, showing off the doodles he made on Hal’s makeshift sketchpad and explaining that there was an overarching story behind everything he made. There was a plane, and there was a man, who Kyle said was Hal. The plane could only fit one person, so Hal couldn’t take Kyle with him. Kyle’s mother was afraid of the unknown, so she didn’t mind that Hal wanted to leave, but because Kyle wanted to go with him, both parents spent three days and three nights building a sailboat that could fit both father and son.
Kyle was at least five years old, and even if he became a skilled artist when he grew up, his art now was crude at best, but Hal still diligently used his ring to mimic Kyle’s drawings, making them three-dimensional and come to life based on what he described.
“And then,” Kyle concluded. “Papa and I told mama that we would make sure to eat well and bring back a gift for her when we came back, and then we went to space!”
It wasn’t the most original thing Hal heard, but he was impressed by how Kyle gave the boat wings and how he narrated so solemnly.
“Sounds like we did a lot in your story,” Hal told him. “Are you tired?”
“No,” Kyle said, but his voice came out a bit scratchy from talking too much, and he was blinking owlishly up at Hal.
Hal tried not to grin. They’d been sitting on a thick blanket, and he used his ring to transform it into a thick mattress under them. He let his uniform fade away and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over Kyle, who immediately snuggled against it for warmth. His drowsiness was more apparent now, but he probably needed one more nudge, so Hal reached over to grab a small mug and filled it with pink, hot liquid before handing it to Kyle. “Here. This is Yopon’s version of hot cocoa.”
“Ooh,” Kyle’s eyes widened, taking a sip. His face broke out in a small smile. The steam of the drink made his nose a little redder. “Papa, it’s even better than what mama makes.”
“Don’t tell her you said that,” Hal said, distantly thinking it was sad he never got to meet Kyle’s mom. “This drink will be our little secret. But you can only have one, okay? I know you’re sleepy, and one more might end up having the opposite effect on you since you’ll wanna pee so much.”
Hal wiggled his fingers at Kyle and tickled his stomach, and Kyle tried to bat his hand away while making sure he didn’t spill his drink. “No, I don’t wanna pee,” Kyle whined. When Hal stopped, Kyle went back to smiling, now satisfied, and he fell silent, sipping from the mug every few seconds like he couldn’t get enough but wanted to try to make the most out of it. “Papa,” he began shyly. Hal glanced at him. “I’m not supposed to be like this, right? Like, I’m bigger, right? That’s what Flashman said. ‘Cause if I am, then I can’t wait to be a big grown up again..”
“Why’s that?”
“‘Cause I wanna remember all the cool stuff we do!” Kyle exclaimed, before pausing. “We do cool stuff, right? Together?”
“I—” For a split second, Hal was at a loss on what to say. He’d been neither lying nor telling the truth to Kyle—just never addressing the fact that whenever Kyle referred to him as his dad, it wasn’t actually right. “We… the two of us do a lot of cool things together,” he settled for instead, because there was no need for them to specify whether or not it was as father and son. He didn’t know how well that would go along with Kyle anyway, if he revealed the truth now, after everything they just went through together. Hal didn’t even know if he was still doing this because he wanted to specifically give the kid something he never actually had; more than anything, it just felt like something Hal was doing because Kyle was a good kid—literally, and Hal simply found himself reciprocating in his own way to that goodness.
“But now that I think about it, we could definitely afford to go on more,” he added. “Kyle, listen—the thing is, in life, anything can happen. The future’s almost always uncertain, even the memories you’ll have when you get big again and revert back to normal.”
“Oh,” Kyle replied, sounding disheartened.
“Aw, geez—that wasn’t what I meant,” Hal said. “I’m trying to tell you that because the future’s uncertain, you should make the most out of what is certain, and that’s moments like these. All the right nows. You get what I mean?”
After a pause, Kyle nodded, looking a little starry-eyed at Hal the same way civilians did whenever Clark said something particularly heartwarming and inspiring. Hal wanted to laugh. He wanted to pinch Kyle’s cheeks. He wanted Bruce to be here just so he could gloat that Kyle was clearly taking his words to heart and found him awesome. “The right nows,” Kyle repeated, like he wanted to remember the words. Then his face turned bashful again. “So… can I have another cup of cocoa before sleeping right now, papa?”
This time, Hal did laugh. “Sure thing,” he relented. “But only after you finish this one.”
==
If Hal was being honest, a part of him thought he’d have a little more time with Kyle even as they made their way to Sector 872 to see the White Lantern named Saysoran. The following morning, they flew to her planet and were welcomed despite the protective barriers she had placed in the city capital, her ring recognizing Kyle’s presence but not his own ring. She’d been so unnerved that when Hal explained the situation, she quickly went to get her power battery, too awkward to reciprocate Kyle’s eagerness to talk and ask her so many things she didn’t have time to answer.“He’s not a bad kid,” Hal told her, when she set down the power battery and Kyle wandered towards it, curious.
Saysoran shook her head. “It’s not a matter of whether he’s good or not,” she explained. “I have nothing against children, nor him as a child, but he is the leader of the White Lantern Corps. Though we may not move in groups like the rest of you do, we still acknowledge his importance. It does not bode well if he cannot attend to his responsibilities for long.”
“I—you’re right,” Hal sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just give me a moment to say… goodbye, I guess.”
That seemed to amuse Saysoran. “He is not dead.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I understand,” Saysoran said, tone much gentler. “Most of my people have left home when we were under attack, and even now with renovations, many have yet to return. My sister was one of them. She was newly born when they all had to leave, but I had spent a few months with her before then. Now—”
She didn’t get to finish her statement, because a burst of white light had suddenly caught their attention, coming from Kyle and Saysoran’s power battery, and the light grew so much it blinded them. All Hal could think about was Kyle though, worried that he’d gotten hurt because Hal wasn’t attentive enough to protect him. “Shit. Kyle!”
There was no response. At last, the light dimmed, leaving behind Saysoran’s power battery that buzzed with electricity, and Kyle, slumped beside the power battery and unconscious, reverted back to his twenty-something self. His ring glistened, finally charged, but he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He was in civilian clothes, wearing Hal’s jacket.
Just like that, Kyle was back to normal. It was sudden and… uneventful, given how yesterday had gone by. But what was done was done, and Hal was hard-pressed to say that he regretted it. It wouldn’t have been fair. Still, Hal lifted Kyle and sighed, not knowing if it was out of relief or disappointment.
“Thanks,” Hal told Saysoran, who was giving him a peculiar look. He suddenly remembered that she was in the midst of telling him something. “What was that you were saying earlier?”
Saysoran shook her head. “My sister and I knew one another, but she was too young to remember me. When she eventually returns back to Sussurus, it will have been years since, and she will no longer recognize me, but that does not mean the time we had together meant nothing. We carry these memories in us for as long as we live, even if he cannot consciously recall them. Perhaps that is something worth keeping in mind, Green Lantern.”
“Maybe,” Hal said, because he didn’t know what else to say to that. “I think we need to go. He’s got a couple of people worrying about him back on our planet. Good luck with renovations.”
“May you have a safe journey back home,” Saysoran told him. “And thank you for looking after my Corps leader. Tell him I said hello.”
==
Kyle didn’t seem to have any recollection of his time as a kid, as they expected, but he was a lot more easygoing than before, no longer acting like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders ever since he became the White Lantern. It filled Hal with relief. Kyle hadn’t exactly known rest ever since he became their Torchbearer, and things didn’t exactly become easier for him even after the Corps was restored.Hal didn’t see Kyle again until two months later. Kyle visited Mogo as much as he visited Earth, which was barely, but John commented that Kyle was around after Hal had given his report of the successful diplomatic mission he was sent on. John didn’t tell Hal where Kyle was, but it was easy to figure out where he’d be staying—there was a cliff spot in the planet in the middle of their forest, and Kyle once said it was a nice, quiet spot to doodle and occasionally think.
When Hal finally got there though, Kyle was doing neither of those things. Instead, he was using his ring to conjure up constructs in front of him, creating robots that looked so complex that they seemed to come out of obscure movies or TV shows Hal didn’t recognize and watching them fight one another. Hal dropped himself beside Kyle. “Reliving your Green Lantern glory days?” he asked in lieu of a greeting. Kyle was using the green light to make them, even if his white light could do the same thing. “Haven’t seen you use that in a while.”
“Reliving some fond memories, actually,” Kyle answered, grinning. “Want a drink?”
He fished out a thermos. Using the cap as a cup, he poured in something brown and thick. It had a distinct smell that Hal thought was familiar, and it took him a moment before he realized what it was: hot chocolate, the Earth kind. Kyle remembered.
Still, he said nothing, even when Hal glanced expectedly at him. It occurred to Hal that Kyle wasn’t going to give one, because Kyle, as an adult, was shy about confrontations and honesty that way, and when Hal thought about it, then his conversation with Saysoran, he supposed he didn’t really need one. The hot chocolate Kyle was offering him—it said enough. It was some kind of unsaid gesture of gratitude.
“Thank you,” Hal said, finally accepting the cup. He took a tentative sip, surprised by how it tasted better than he thought. “Hey, Kyle.”
“Yeah?”
“You happen to know what adobada is?” he asked. “Someone told me about it once, but I never got around to checking what it was about. It’s supposed to be really good.”
Kyle looked at him in surprise, and his nose turned a little pink in what Hal realized was embarrassment. Hal made sure to hide his smile behind his drink.