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Smoking wasn’t typically allowed in the simulated “outdoor chamber” at the Watchtower. Famously, two out of the seven founders ran anti-smoking campaigns for children. With Superman being the face of multiple nationwide public service announcements, and Bruce Wayne funding a more extreme anti-drug program in Gotham city, it wasn’t in his best interest to be doing this. Not to mention, J’onn felt deeply uncomfortable with open, uncontrolled flames around himself, and he could rarely tell when the Martian was approaching him. It wasn’t a good idea, he knew, but the last mission he’d gone on had been particularly rough. It always was, when he got called in to work outside the Watchtower with the League. As a member of the newest generation of Blue Lanterns, the mission leader, Superman, was hoping that he could use his healing powers to assist in any life-sustaining rescue missions.
With a sigh, he flicked his lighter on and inhaled deep.
A distress call, from one of the neighboring star systems blue planets. A hyper-industrialist society that had polluted and overconsumed the planet's resources and changed the atmosphere so much, burning, acid rain had fallen for a week straight. By the time the distress signal made it to the League, three quarters of the population had been wiped clean off the planet's surface.
What was left wasn’t pretty, either.
They’d spent a week helping the evacuation get underway. Unsurprisingly, the planet could no longer sustain complex life forms. A fine red dust had settled across the surface of still, stagnant water. Bodies lined the streets, oftentimes left where they had fallen a week ago, baking in the harsh UV rays of the red sun that powered this solar system. By the time the evacuation had completed, over 30 million lifeforms had been wiped out, leaving a meager 250 thousand to continue living on their sister planet.
Rubbing his eyes, he dropped onto the ground, leaning back against a tree and running his fingers over the bark. He tried not to think about the implications of what he had just seen and how much it mirrored his home planet, Earth. The cigarette provided a familiar burn in his lungs.
Still, he wasn’t the only one who’d come to this secluded corner for a break. He sensed their energy before they even stepped into view — willpower, strong and intense, like an inferno.
“Hey.” A gravelly voice, worn hoarse by years of fighting and sharp, barked laughter.
“Hey, Guy.”
“Mind if I join you?” The grass beside him rustled, as Guy sat down before he could answer.
“Sure.” He held out a cigarette, flicking his lighter on when the lantern beside him took it between his lips.
“I shouldn’t be doing this, you know. Been tryin’ to quit for years.” A long pause followed, before he exhaled, acrid smoke curling up around his lip and nose. “Probably doesn’t make me look like a good influence, I guess.”
“S’not easy. We all need our vices.” He responded, a hand coming to rest on Guy's shoulder. “I don’t think it makes you any less of a hero.”
“I ain’t worried about that. Whether I look like a hero doesn't matter, as long as I can actually do something.” His white leather gloves groaned as his fists tightened. “We couldn’t do anything on that shithole of a planet we were on earlier.”
He looked over at Guy, studying his features. It was easy to see through the carefully constructed facade he put on. Years of service in the Lantern Corps did that to a man — hardened him up, ate away at the hope he might have had before, taught him to be cautious with his compassion. Some of it couldn’t be helped, with his history of severe brain damage and trauma. Some of it was that he liked to be the guy no one had to worry about. He liked pushing people away, because it was easier than letting them see how much he really cared.
Ambrose knew, though. Call it a hunch, or the ability to sense these things much more strongly due to his Blue Lantern powers. Regardless, he knew who Guy was underneath all of the snark and callousness.
More than that, though, he knew why he had sought him out, in this secluded corner where no one really went. It wasn’t just for a cigarette.
“It hurt you, didn’t it? Not being able to help.”
“Hurt?” Guy looked over, his expression becoming more guarded and embarrassed. “No. It pissed me off. The elite class destroyed their own world, and a bunch of the little guys died because of it.” He grit his teeth, baring them like a wounded dog. Another way for him to protect himself, in a desperate attempt to hide his fear and sadness.
Ambrose shrugged, taking another long drag. He exhaled slowly, finding the familiar burn in his lungs a grounding presence, no matter how uncomfortable it felt.
“It hurt me. It hurt a lot, to see so much suffering and pain. I was scared, too.” His voice stayed quiet and calm, steadfast despite the horror he’d experienced.
“You blue types always are. It’s just… how you’re supposed to be. Y'know, emotional.” Guy gestured weakly with his hand. “Not us. Willpower requires total control.”
“Cut the bullshit.” Ambrose hit his shoulder lightly. “You’re the most emotional lantern I know, and you know that’s true.”
A momentary attempt at protest died on Guy’s tongue, as he let out a long, defeated sigh. “…you’ve never been one to shy away from giving it to me straight. You’ve always got to needle your way past whatever I say and hit me right where it hurts.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” He frowned, earning a scoff from Guy. It only deepened the concern in his brow. “Guy, you know I don’t want to see you hurt, right?”
Guy didn’t answer, as he looked away. Ambrose could see the tremble in his fingers as he raised his cigarette back to his lips.
Fuck.
“Guy.” Ambrose gently put a hand on his shoulder. “Please. Don’t shut me out…”
“Why do you even bother, anyways?” He asked, incredulously. “It’s not like I asked you to give a shit, you know.”
“Because you’re my friend!” His voice raised slightly, as he glared at the self-destructive lantern. “I care about you, even if you’re stubborn as an ass and twice as angry — and it’s not just because I’m a Blue Lantern, it’s because you mean something to me. Is it that hard for you to believe someone likes you for who you are?”
Guy froze, his frown spreading deeper across his face. “No one’s liked me for who I was in years.”
“Well, I do.” Ambrose crossed his arms. “Sometimes you make me feel stupid for it, but I like you. Really. And I hate that you don’t let people comfort you when you’re obviously upset. You wouldn’t have come here if you felt okay.”
A long pause stretched between the two of them. He half expected Guy to just get up and leave, and maybe throw a few expletives his way for good measure.
Instead, he stayed quiet, eyes glued to the smoke wafting off the end of his cigarette. When he spoke again, it sounded less guarded than he’d ever heard before.
“…I hate it when there’s kids involved. Hate it.” Guy admitted, quietly.
Ambrose shifted closer, just enough so that their knees were touching. He didn’t speak, so as not to scare him away from opening up.
“I love kids. Always have. Y'know, I used to be a teacher.” His eyes shut for a moment, as if he was savoring the memory. “I worked with kids who had problems… The ones people didn’t think deserved a chance. It’s funny, a lot of the time, I think they were helping me more than I was helping them.” A genuine smile spread across his face, as he recalled his time working with troubled youth. “They reminded me of myself, when I was their age. I understood them a lot more than the social workers they were used to dealing with.”
“I’m sure you were great at it, Guy.” Ambrose’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, feeling the muscle tense up underneath, before settling back down.
“I did my best… but I’ve changed a lot. I have all this… I dunno, trauma ain’t the word I’d use for it, but it’s… kind of what everyone else says. I’ve seen a lot of shit. Been through a lot of shit.” He murmured. “And every time I go on one of these rescue missions, I remember their faces. The kids, the ones we… couldn’t save. There’s been so many… so many that the Corps has failed. So many that I’ve failed. And seeing it this week, it just felt so…” he trailed off, shakily lighting another cigarette. “This… planet. It was different. I’d never seen so many people dead in the streets before. It’s not like the survivors were in much better shape than the bodies on the street. Half of them were almost dead, anyway. There were entire generations completely wiped off the face of the planet in a few hours. And I… I found this group of kids. They had one toy they were all taking turns holding. None of them had any family left. I tried what I could to make them feel safe, but how could I? Every time they looked at me, it made me feel like a failure. It made me…” his voice dropped, as he stared down at his fingers.
“It made you feel guilty.” Ambrose finished, earning a slight nod from the man beside him. “Even though you know it’s not your fault.”
“It’s making me sick. I haven’t been able to eat anything since we got back yesterday. Can’t fucking… keep it down.” Guy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t fucking sleep, either. I’m so god damned hungry, and I need to shower, and all I can do is wander around this tin can and think.”
Another moment of silence stretched between them, both watching the smoke waft slowly into the air. This time, though, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. The air was heavy, heavy with sorrow and defeat.
Ambrose could sense the hope underneath it all. It was something he admired deeply about Guy — no matter what happened, he never gave up hope. Whether it was out of spite or the simple fact that he knew a better world was possible, he held onto that tighter than most.
“You know… I saw things a little differently, when we were on that planet.” He said, turning to look into Guy’s exhausted eyes. The heavy weight of self loathing hung around his neck like a yoke. “I saw you staying in the shelter with a group of kids, trying to help them feel safe by teaching them how to play baseball. You gave your rations to an elderly man who lost his family, and helped him find an old friend in the crowd that he could stay with on their sister planet. When an infant showed up in the shelter without anyone to care for her, you carried her around for two days. Two days, changing her bandages and diapers and feeding her. You could’ve passed her off to one of the other volunteers from their sister planet, but you chose to care for her yourself, just like you chose to show those people compassion and hope.” A warmth was growing in his chest, as he watched a thoughtful expression form on Guy’s face. “You focus so much on what you didn’t do, you forget to look and remember what you did. You’re a good man, Guy. One of the best of us.”
Guy stared for a moment, his cheeks turning pink under the smattering of freckles. In an almost shy manor, he looked away, before rolling his eyes.
“…thank you, Ambrose.”
Ambrose stood up, holding his hand out. “You’re welcome. Come on. Let’s go see if we can grab a bite to eat from the cafeteria. You can stay in my room tonight, I’ve got a spare couch with your name on it.”
Guy stared at his outstretched hand, no doubt contemplating if he wanted to take it or not. Taking it wouldn’t just mean accepting help — something he’d never been good at — it would be a nonverbal admittance that he was struggling and needed someone to take the lead for a night.
Then again… maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
“…okay.” Guy took hold of his hand, getting to his feet. “If you want my company that bad, I suppose I’ll stay.”
Ambrose let out a snort, shoving him playfully. He pretended not to notice that Guy’s smile stayed on his face the rest of the night.