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Bruce hadn’t been interested in Halloween for a long time. He used to care for it. When he was a child, he used to enjoy picking out costumes and buying candy with his parents. Later, when Dick and Jason were young, he used to enjoy looking at them bounding around the house in colorful costumes so different from their suits. Now? Now, Halloween was nothing but social functions he was forced to host in the name of Wayne Enterprises.
It was nothing but an entire night of pleasantries and other meaningless bullshit he couldn’t be bothered with. So, when that was finally over, he thought he had been saved. He had a bunch of case files waiting for him. The night was still young. He might have enough time to go through all of them, if he were really lucky.
Yet the hallway that was supposed to lead him to the exit was getting longer than he’d remembered. Before he knew it, he had been transferred to some foreign, unearthly dimension. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the universe then decided to throw in Hal Jordan’s insufferably familiar face on a backdrop of glowing green, just to make sure that this would go down as one of the worst days of his life.
It was definitely Hal Jordan, even if he looked…different from how he usually does. His hazel hair had faded, streaks of white mixing in with the brown. Sharp facial features. Unmistakable cocky smile. He wasn’t the Hal Bruce had known for…15 years now. He wore a suit made of greens and blacks, with shoulder straps and an over-the-top cape. It was nothing like the Green Lantern suit. The mask was also different from standard GL-issued masks. It was still green. But instead of plain, it was intricately decorated. Stylized and fancy. Like the mask he was wearing. The one made specifically for pretentious galas like the one Bruce had just been in.
Parallax.
The moment that name popped into his head, Bruce felt the muscles on his face tighten. Every nerve in his body was on high alert. He knew he wouldn’t stand even one billionth of a chance against Parallax. Couldn’t even hope to turn tail and run. The only thing he could do, unfortunately, was wait and see what he wanted.
Bruce’s mask couldn’t seem to guard his feelings from Parallax. He took one look at his face, then threw him a sarcastic smile.
“Don’t be so tense. If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead right now. We don’t need to have this conversation.”
His smile suddenly grew friendlier. For a while, he looked scarily like the Hal he’d known.
“But I don’t want to do that. Today, I just want to see an old friend.”
Bruce chose to silently observe him instead of replying. Hal. No. Parallax looked at ease. He wished he could see under the mask. He wanted to know if there was anything…untruthful in the depths of his eyes. Though, he wasn’t sure if he could make out how a cosmic monster was feeling, even if it used to be a friend he knew so well. But he was sure as fuck going to try.
Parallax ignored his blatant distrust. He held out his hand and gestured forward with a jerk of his head.
“Come with me, Spooky!”
The familiar nickname coming from him made Bruce so bitter. He just couldn’t stand it.
“Don’t call me that.”- he snapped, angrier than he had anticipated.
“What? Spooky?”- he could see it in his mind’s eye. Parallax’s brows furrowing under the mask, as if he couldn’t begin to comprehend Bruce’s unreasonable line of logic- “Why not? I’ve been calling you that for 15 years, haven’t I?”
Yes. That nickname had been there since the first time they met. Bruce had never liked it. It sounded stupid, and it was no secret Hal came up with it just to mess with him. But after all those years fighting at each other’s side, he had gotten somewhat used to it. The same way he’d gotten used to Hal’s presence in his life. He was no expert on emotions. But maybe that was why he couldn’t tolerate this monster’s tone. The way he so casually called Bruce by that nickname. As if he were still the Hal Jordan who would put his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and tease him until he went insane. As if they were who they used to be, sticking around for a quick chat after one of Justice League’s meetings. As if he weren’t the narcissistic monster whose entire goal was to reshape the universe to his own image.
“That’s what Hal Jordan has been calling me.”- he replied. Coldly. As cold as he could manage- “You’re not that Hal Jordan.”
Against the obvious challenge in his voice, Parallax’s face was as unreadable as ever. He resumed walking. Calmer than Bruce had imagined he would be.
“Fine.”- he gestured at Bruce to follow him- “Come on, Bruce!”
The distrust was still there. But if he ever wanted to know what Parallax was planning, he had no choice but to comply. He hesitated, for a minute, before deciding to ignore the instincts screaming at him. He followed without another word.
Where they were walking towards had nothing but fine pebbles and cracked earth and dark sky. Some abandoned planet at the edge of the universe, he presumed. The only source of light was a faint green glow glittering in the sky. It didn’t take him a full minute to conclude it was Parallax’s work. They walked for a short while. Then they were exactly where Parallax wanted to take him. A city. Made entirely of the power ring’s constructs.
He knew all about that time Hal rebuilt Coast City with his power ring. A part of him was surprised. At the precision and intricacies of this alien-made city. Everything was so life-like. Down to the tiniest detail. Especially the people. Talking and laughing and going about their lives. As if they were actual humans made of flesh and blood. It must have been Parallax’s inexhaustible power that kept this city running so seamlessly. The fact that he was able to construct this vast city alone was more than enough to speak of Hal’s indomitable willpower.
It was so great. So terrible. That in the end, it was the very thing that ended him.
Before he could dwell on that too much, a long laugh demanded his attention. Turning his head over, he noted the source, two people/contructs, made of that eerie green light that was the ring’s power. A young Hal Jordan and his father, legendary pilot Martin Jordan. Martin had an arm around Hal, a booming laugh coming from the depths of his lungs.
“Well done, son. You’ll definitely make it. There has never been a pilot as remarkable as you in the last five years. I’m sure of it.”
“Don’t say that.”- young Hal smiled- “I’d think too highly of myself.”- there was an embarrassed flush on the tops of his cheeks. He looked overjoyed at how generously his father was dolling out praises.
“I’m not saying that just cuz you’re my son.”- Martin said, patting his son’s shoulder with one big, rough palm- “I know what you’re capable of better than anybody, Hal. I’ve always known you’re meant for greatness.”
Ironically, Bruce had been told enough of Martin Jordan to know this has never and will never happen. The father Hal told him about had never paid him the attention he needed. Never offered him the encouragement he wanted. Never told Hal he was worth more than he knew. Nor had he ever acknowledged any of his accomplishments. Maybe that was why Hal felt like he needed to spend his entire life proving him wrong. That he was worthy of something. Of being his excellent father’s son. The best pilot who’ve ever flown. The worthiest wielder of the powerful Green Lantern ring.
In the end, though, this was what Hal really needed. A world where his father would give him compliments. Real compliments that come from the bottom of his heart. Such a fantastical dream that could never come to pass.
Bruce had decided, steadfastly, to lock away all emotions he had once held for this man the day he went and got himself turned into Parallax. He must have done a worse job than he’d imagined. There was something in his heart, an old emotion he thought he’d long banished. He felt for Hal. He really did. He felt bad for a Hal Jordan who had once wanted nothing more than to be acknowledged.
Lost in thought, he didn’t know when the scenery had changed, just that it did. He saw himself. Younger. In his late twenties. Graduation gown. Smiling parents. His father gave him a hearty pat on the back. His voice was full of pride.
“You really got us there, son. Every time we asked how you were doing, you just say “fine.” Who would have thought you would be this year’s valedictorian?”
Young him smiled shyly. But he could see in his eyes that he, too, was damn proud of what he had accomplished.
“I didn’t know, Dad.”- he said, looking at Thomas with stars in his eyes- “Does that mean I can come work at Wayne Enterprises now?”
It was his mother’s turn to laugh.
“One thing at a time, son. You get through this graduation party, then we’ll see what we can do, ok?”
The smile on his father’s face was so wide. He replied with obvious joy.
“Of course. With your accomplishments, we would be happy to have you.”- a softer smile- “But I want you to think real hard about what you want to do, ok, champ? You don’t have to choose what you think we want. We’ll support you no matter what you decide on, you hear me?”
He couldn’t hear past the static in his ears. There were so many emotions inside his head right now. Swirling and toiling. Drowning out anything that wasn’t screaming at him to pull them into his arms.
He had seen this scene in his dreams. A hundred, if not a thousand times. How pretty. How impossible. A vision that would never come true, regardless of all the lives he’d saved. Still, it had never seemed as real as in this moment. Never felt as real. And knowing that it was something he could never have? He couldn’t find the right word to describe the burning pain tearing his beating heart in two.
Why would Parallax want him to see this?
As if reading his mind, Parallax said without prompting, voice light and coaxing.
“Consider it a gift. After all, isn’t Halloween a chance for people to meet the loved ones they’d lost?”
It was that very sentence that snapped Bruce out of the trance. He got it. He got why Parallax was doing this. After all, lies and manipulation are Batman’s specialty. Can’t really beat him at that, can he? Annoyed, he answered Parallax in the same sharp voice he’d always used to unmask criminal masterminds.
“You’re not as good at lying as you think you are.”- Bruce glared at him from under his ornate mask- “You’re showing me all this just so I would go along with your crazy plan to rewrite reality or whatever. Am I right?”
For someone who just had his masterplan spilled on the floor, Parallax looked unusually calm. Maybe he had anticipated this from the start. He was not wrong to think that, though. Bruce was pretty good at unmasking criminal masterminds.
“Is it working?”- he smiled, finally stopped beating around the bush- “You’ve never wanted another life? A life where you could be happy? With your parents? Discover your true passion, maybe? What if you could live a life where you don’t have to put on a bat costume and beat the shit out of criminals every night to cope with that gapping wound in your psyche?”
Bruce had spent his entire life mastering his feelings. Thoughts like that? He needed to reign those in. To pretend they never existed in the first place. However, as masterful as he was, now, in this very moment, he couldn’t lie to himself. He had dreamt of such a wonderful place. Where he could be something more than just a broken boy in a bat suit. Where he would have a family of his own, instead of dragging innocent children down this path of pain and self-destruction. Where he would have normal friends instead of these supernatural beings whom he could never truly count on.
It was a siren’s song. Such pointless, tempting, dangerous thoughts. It called out to him, waiting to drown him in Parallax’s void of madness. The void which had trapped Hal Jordan in an endless loop that was his memories.
Maybe Bruce was only a hair-width from it anyway. Maybe it was okay to let it sweep him away. Maybe he should just let go, for a moment. It would pull him in. And then he would know. Would feel what Hal had felt. Would see what Hal had seen. Would finally understand why he chose to tread down this path.
He was at the edge, staring right at Parallax. At that half-goodly, half-foreboding aura around him. It was blinding. Mysterious and splendid. Against the blackness of night, he looked every bit like the otherworldly creature that he was. A god. Standing at the very point where the universe began.
Batman, however, was never one to cower before gods.
“Will there really be such a life?”-he asked, slow and sure- “What if I grew up to be a spoiled little brat, withering away in the ruins of my city? What if Hal Jordan got a few decades more with his father only to realize he would never love him the way he deserved to be loved? What if it means that another city is put to ruin? Some other’s loved ones taken away? Some other dream reduced to ashes? Can you right all wrongs? How many times are you planning on rewriting reality to get it all figured out?”
He must have stopped sliding, halfway down the rabbit hole. His thoughts and words were finally clear. Words leaped out of his mouth felt easier. Firmer. Truer.
“As long as there is free will, you can never find a world where everyone would always be happy.”
Those words. They didn’t taste as bitter as he thought they would. It was just a fact. As unchangeable as any other fact in this world. A fact which he had accepted. Long ago. Even if he wasn’t aware of it himself.
For a while, Parallax actually seemed unsure of himself. His face grew tense. He wound a lock of hair around his finger. Twisting. The same way Hal used to whenever he was lost in thoughts…
Stop it, Bruce. This monster was no Hal. This monster was not the Hal you used to know.
In the end, the monster turned its eyes towards his, every bit as godly as it’d been.
“And you still want to live in a world like this?”- his words were so calm they sounded unnatural- “A world where you struggle to find a child who could love you only to lose him? A world where the city which you’d given up everything to protect will forever be drowned by its own darkness? A world where you spend every waking moment planning and scheming and grasping for ways to control the invincible creatures you call your brother-in-arms?”
There was something soft in his voice. Something so uniquely Hal.
“A world where we are who we are?”
Once again, Bruce was confronted with the fact that this monster was so much like Hal. A Hal Jordan who uses a bubbly façade to hide his crumbling heart. A Hal Jordan who is always so warm with everyone yet unbeknownst to them, is harboring an untouchable black hole inside his heart. A Hal Jordan who had lived through more heartbreak, loneliness and loss than anyone ever had in their lifetime, only to forfeit his humanity in the end.
The worst part was that Bruce was the same. He looked at that broken mess of a man and saw the darkest parts of himself. He couldn’t help but wonder, in that defining moment in time, what was stopping him from becoming someone like Hal?
A mirage of moments flashed through his mind. Snapshots of his life. Going at a mile a minute.
Alfred looking at him, in full regalia, eyes unreadable. As if afraid this would be the last time he would get to lay eyes on him.
The child he’d just saved from one of Riddler’s puzzles sobbing in its mother arms. And he knew he’d stopped crime from breaking up another family.
Dick telling him he couldn’t live in his shadow, before turning his back on him, leaving the roof they’d shared for more than a decade.
Him holding Dick gently until the tragic death of his parents began to sink in, and he cried himself to sleep in Bruce’s arms.
Him clinging to Jason’s body like a lifeline, feeling a part of his soul slowly seeping out, like the warmth of that tiny figure.
Jason sitting in his lap, telling him every little detail of this very interesting book he’d just read.
Him walking among creatures with superhuman strength that he calls his comrades, wondering when that burden was going to drive them crazy.
Him letting out a soft breath whenever said comrades would return, safe and sound, from another battle.
Him witnessing the birth of a monster, sprouted forth from the remnants of the Hal Jordan he once knew.
Hal giving him a half-smile, telling him in a voice so soft it was hardly above a whisper, that people like them will always have something missing deep within their hearts, and that it was quite alright to never find that piece of themself.
Unbearable pain. Unrivalled joy. Moments he thought had broken him forever. Seconds where he doubted himself. All those emotions, spanning more than half a lifetime. They swirled together into this obvious, undeniable, irrevocable answer.
“Yes.”- he said, with all the honesty he could manage- “I don’t want to be anyone other than who I am right now. Nor do I want to give what I have for any other life you can offer me.”
He didn’t say it for Parallax. He said it for the Hal Jordan he used to know. God, he might have been just an illusion dwelling inside this monster. But he had to try. Even if hope was slim, Bruce wanted Hal to hear what he had to say. Though his light had gone out, Hal remained the one who had shone brighter than anyone he’d ever known.
Bruce was prepared for anything Parallax might throw at him. He didn’t expect an extraterrestrial monster to get what he was trying to say, anyway. Still, him laughing out loud still caught him by surprise. It was so clear, his laugh, as if he’d just heard something fucking hilarious. It was playful and innocent at the same time. So very…Hal Jordan. It was the same tone that had driven him nuts at times, while being entirely too reassuring.
It was with that familiar laughing tone that he said.
“It’s so like you, Bruce, to surprise me even now.”- he sounded too cheerful for Bruce’s liking. He had no idea how to react to that- “I should have known I was no match for an expert manipulator such as yourself.”
He was right. Once again, Bruce had seen right though him. He got it. Got what he was saying with that seemingly meaningless sentence. It spurred him on, that knowledge. Got him to answer with the same kind of confidence he always has laying down new plans for the Justice League.
“Isn’t it why you come to me?”- he said, eyes never leaving Parallax- “You don’t really want me to agree with you. You want someone who could change your mind. You want someone to talk you into dropping this ridiculous plan of yours.”
It was a bold statement. Yet it was the only viable explanation for what was going on here. Alien forces don’t usually spend this much time and energy persuading some powerless human (like him) to take their side. It might have been what little remnant of Hal Jordan left in him, trying to find a way out…
Enough, Bruce! Don’t let emotions cloud your judgement!
He was struggling with his thoughts. Parallax smiled. It was faint. Just a speck among the brilliant green light of the power ring. The same way Hal would always smile at him.
“Maybe.”- he replied, simple and true- “Isn’t that how we’ve always been? Whenever I do something stupid or reckless, you’d stop me.”
With that one sentence, he had managed to shatter all the defenses Bruce had built around his heart.
Yes. It had always been like that. All those years fighting alongside each other. That’s who they were. Hal would be the one to oppose his dictatorship. He would be the one to talk Hal out of his reckless plans. They complete each other. Challenge each other. They are each other’s personal wake up call.
Bruce had thought it would always stay that way. That no matter how the Earth spins, Hal would always be there to tease him, fight him, save him from making bad decisions.
He looked up at Hal with that thought squeezing his heart. There, looking down at him, was not the Hal he knew. But he wasn’t Parallax, either. He didn’t even have the word for what this creature might be. Whatever he was, the Hal Jordan part of him was too evident to deny. So much so that Bruce couldn’t see him as anything other than his old teammate.
Still, it was too painful, too difficult to bear.
“What’s the point, if you’re no longer the Hal Jordan I knew?”- he couldn’t help himself. He sounded bitter, but then again, what really was the point anyway?
His words seemed to have confused Hal. He stopped dead in his tracks, like he didn’t know how to act. It made it easy to catch up to him. Bruce reached up to pull down his mask. He wasn’t even surprised Hal didn’t stop him.
True to his predictions, the Hal beneath the mask was every bit the Hal he remembered. Glinting hazel eyes. Chiseled facial features. Cocky attitude. As if no-one could ever touch him. In the low light surrounding them, he was so pretty. So beautiful. Yet so entirely untouchable. Words kept falling from his mouth. Bitter, stinging words he couldn’t stifle.
“Halloween is a chance for people to meet the loved ones they’d lost, isn’t it?”- he said, eyes fixed on Hal’s face- “Maybe you’re nothing but the ghost of my late friend, after all.”
At least, that’s what Bruce wanted to believe. No matter how much he wanted to quarrel with Hal again, hear his laughing voice again, he wanted to believe the Hal he once knew was really, truly dead. That there was nothing of him left inside this monster who looked just like him. Nothing but meaningless bits and pieces.
It was the only way he could move on without accepting something he didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to think that the monster who’d almost destroyed the universe was actually the same person who’d stood by his side for more than a decade. He didn’t want to believe that the Hal he’d placed his trust in had really sunk so low. He didn’t want to accept that he didn’t know Hal as well as he thought he did.
Once again, Hal only smiled. A single pained smile that looked as though it contained all the pain in the world. His brain was telling him it was just another trick, another move Parallax was pulling, using his feelings for Hal against him. His heart didn’t get the memo, though. It squeezed down on itself almost too painfully.
Bruce was still in the middle of dealing with those conflicting emotions when he felt Hal’s lips on his.
He had thought it would be strange, touching a force of nature. Yet the lips pressed firmly against his skin felt real. Soft and warm just like how he’d imagined Hal’s lips would feel like. There was nothing sexual in it. But he could tell it wasn’t a normal goodbye kiss. There was want there. Passion. The kind that was pushed down year after year until it exploded. There was also preservation. Hesitance. Hal didn’t want to cross the line, some unspecified thing they’d drawn in the sand long ago.
It was everything. Them. Their feelings. Building up over all those years standing by each other’s side. Never been voiced out loud.
Bruce knew he should evade this kiss. There was no place for such an intimate thing between them. Especially not now. And yet he stayed. Perfectly still. From beginning to end. Feeling Hal’s lips against his. Losing himself in this intoxicating feeling. It was soft. And sweet. Spreading from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Against all reasons. Against all odds. It stuck him as profoundly as every truth in the world. That this kiss, right here, was the rightest thing they’d ever done.
Hal ended their kiss, eyes once again becoming unreadable. It took Bruce a minute to gather his wits, voice going uncharacteristically soft.
“What was that for?”
Hal answered him with a chuckle, as if he couldn’t believe how stupid that question was.
“Nothing. I just feel like doing it.”- he tucked the black locks falling down Bruce’s forehead behind his ear. There was something so tender inside his shinning brown orbs- “The Hal you knew has always wanted to kiss you like that.”
Bruce couldn’t even convince himself that it was a lie, a desperate attempt to manipulate him. He wasn’t so dumb that he didn’t know what the look in Hal’s eyes meant, as he glanced at him when he thought Bruce wasn’t looking. The occasional brush of the hand, which he’d always hold onto longer than was strictly necessary. The numerous times he went out of his way to get Bruce to pay attention to him. It wasn’t this earth-shattering, point-turning thing. He wouldn’t think so. But it was there. This…sentimental thing. Throughout all that time they had known each other.
It would have been easier, maybe, if it was just all in Hal’s head. If that was the case, it wouldn’t eat away at Bruce as much as it does now. He wouldn’t be confused. Wouldn’t have to think about it. Yet here he was, unable to say he’d never fantasized about ending one of their arguments with a burning kiss. Or that his skin had never heated up under those absentminded touches. Or that he’d never imagined what that tan skin would feel like beneath the tips of his fingers.
15 years. They had known each other for too long, and yet neither he nor Hal had ever done anything about it. As if doing nothing was something they’d agreed on without exchanging even a word. They would shove it into the deepest parts of their mind and forget all about it. They had more than enough reasons to let it go: Selina, Carol, what happened to Jason, what happened to Hal’s mother, crises in Gotham, Green Lantern Corps breaking up. So on and so forth. But then again, maybe none of that was true. Maybe, the most important reason of all, had been who they were.
Despite their many differences, Bruce knew, deep down, that they were one and the same. Twisted. Broken. Unlovable. They didn’t know how to return other people’s feelings. They always had something that comes first. For him, it was Gotham. For Hal, it was freedom. And they would never, ever change who they were. Not even for themselves. Not even for the people that they love.
Maybe that was what had drawn them together. Their similarities. Maybe that was also why they both knew they could never be with one another, no matter how much they tried.
His thoughts were interrupted with Hal’s finger on his lips. Just one finger. Rough and warm. It surprised him. He wasn’t sure why.
“Did it feel like a ghost’s kiss? Huh, Spooky?”
Bruce might have seen something on his face. A light smile. Faint and bitter. It faded all too quickly, blending back into the swirls of the background. In that brief moment when the figure in front of him was fading away, breaking up into splashes of light, he remembered holding out his hand. Decisive. Desperate. As if trying his damnedest to hold onto something.
But what was there to hold onto?
When he came to, he was standing in the hallway, inside the building whose name he had completely forgotten. If it hadn’t been for that warmth still lingering on his lips, he would have thought that the whole thing had been an illusion.
Even when Bruce had gotten in the car, he could still see it in his mind’s eye. Reeling from the strange encounter, he thought of his old teammate. Of what little was left of Hal Jordan inside that intergalactic monster. Of what they might have once had.
For some reason, his mind kept getting stuck on that day. It was a day not so long after the Green Lantern Corps was shut down. Hal had come to him, in need of a friend. Someone who would listen. Something to fill the endless void in his soul. The thing around which he had built his entire identity had just collapsed. He deserved his sympathy. And yet Bruce didn’t even have the decency to listen. Had turned him away, with his tail between his legs. He knew why he did it. He was in no position to comfort anyone, shaken up as he was from Jason’s death. It made sense. Someone as broken as him couldn’t be Hal’s rock. Turning him away would be better than breaking him some more. Turning him away was the right thing to do.
But a small voice inside his head was wondering. Asking. What if he hadn’t turned him away? What if he had actually given Hal what he asked for? What if he wasn’t so dead set on burying these feelings burning in the pits of his heart, and had reached out to him? What then? Would that change anything?
He knew, deep down, that these were mere idle thoughts. He wasn’t the only person in Hal’s life. His existence was hardly enough to snap Hal out of whatever trance he was in. He didn’t have the love, nor the gentleness needed to fill that void in Hal’s heart. Their language was life-or-death situations. Fleeting moments of sympathy. The way they see themselves in the deepest, darkest parts of each other. That was all there was. That was all they were.
Try as he might, he wouldn’t be able to stop Hal from going down this road of destruction. Try as they might, they would still forever be two lonely people struggling with their own pain. Still, he couldn’t help but wish he had said something. Had opened his heart, just a little bit, and talked to Hal.
But he didn’t. And here they were. Nothing left between them but betrayal and pain and disappointment. Snapshots of the past. Memories of a Hal Jordan whom he’d lost, even if Bruce had never had him in the first place. He thought of that kiss. Too little. Too late. He tasted bitterness on his tongue. So real. So terrible. So much so that he couldn’t just write it off as remnants of a ghost long dead.