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Razer stares at the portal Ghia'ta conjured and feels his breath catch in his throat when the image coalesces. This is - what this implies is - he has been aware that he feels something for her, yes, but he thought... he cherishes her companionship, enjoys her presence, not - not this. Not this much. He had no idea.
And yet, looking at Aya now, he knows it could be nothing else. Nothing less.
Further thought on what this means will have to wait; the unpleasantly familiar woman standing over Aya can't be doing anything good to her circuitry. Razer focuses on his anger at that, at Aya being taken advantage of and hurt, and steps through the portal, Red Lantern ring aglow.
The two of them do not speak of it, beyond Aya's initial, stuttered question. Not even when Hal Jordan inadvertently brings it up, asking how Razer managed to arrive on Oa so quickly; not even after he's left for Earth and the two of them have nothing to do but wait for the Guardians to finish arguing over their fates. They speak of many inconsequential things, as well as several highly consequential things, but never of it.
Razer doesn't know why, and is merely absurdly grateful for her silence. The idea of addressing his feelings for her, when even to think of it brings on overwhelming humiliation and embarrassment... no. He would run a coward from such a conversation before enduring that pain.
Still, at times he wonders. She must know, he thinks. The energy used by the Star Sapphires is utterly unique; there is no way she could mistake it for anything else. And she must know what that means. She suffers from none of the illogic of organic beings, so she must know that to use a Star Sapphire's transport is to be in love, and that she was the only one there he could love.
Yes, she must know.
But then why has she not mentioned it?
Hal Jordan returns two days after his departure, bringing with his typical chaos and charm. The debates about inorganic sentience and what to do with exiled former enemies fall apart at his feet, and within the hour the three of them are back on the Interceptor, Aya calculating the ultrawarp coordinates for the Forgotten Zone, where Kilowog awaits their return, having soundly defeated, or at the very least held off, the Red Lantern armada. Somehow. Hopefully.
Hal is, not without reason, entirely pleased with himself. He single-handedly saved the entirety of Guardian space from utter annihilation, brokered a peace with the new leader of the Red Lantern Corps, and after nine months of absence was finally able to return home. Dessert, whatever he truly means by that, was "great", and he is apparently no longer living in a house intended for Earth pets.
Earthlings have such strange customs.
He basks in his own happiness for a full half hour before he declares his boredom and asks Aya how much longer it will take to finish her calculations. Five minutes later, he asks again. Not even two minutes later, he asks again, and Razer's patience vanishes. He shouts at Hal, who simply laughs, amused as ever by the lack of control he inspires in others. After a moment, though, his smile falls away as he confesses to worrying about Kilowog.
Razer shifts in his seat, feeling guilty for snapping. Of course Hal Jordan would be concerned - if he, usually so indifferent to the Bolovaxian's well-being, is catching himself speculating fruitlessly about the likelihood of the Green Lantern's survival, surely someone who truly considers him a friend must be constantly wondering. And how could one be expected to patiently wait to learn the fate of that friend?
Aya agrees with Hal, but emphasizes that she must perform the calculations, lest the same damage experienced last time happen again. Hal insists that he's aware of the necessity of the action, but that doesn't lessen his fear. His gaze turns to Razer, growing speculative, and he suggests that perhaps the two of them could go ahead, using whatever method brought Razer to Oa so quickly.
Caught off guard, Razer stumbles over his words. He searches futilely for an answer that is not the truth, because if the thought of speaking to Aya about it is embarrassing, the idea of speaking of it to Hal is beyond comprehension. He would rather die. He clumsily explains, to Hal's obvious amusement, that the trip was one-way and could only carry one passenger, which is all true enough, if an incomplete truth.
Suddenly understanding, Hal likens it to the Star Sapphires' portals. Razer's hackles rise at the comparison, but when Hal doesn't go on to insinuate further parallels, he calms down and offers a shrug he hopes looks unsure. Hal sighs and slumps back in his chair, disappointment radiating from his posture and expression. He doesn't know how close to the truth he came.
After a moment spent staring pensively into the stars nearest Oa, Hal ventures a question about what powered Razer's transport, likely hoping they can replicate it with supplies aboard the Interceptor. Whatever his reason, it leaves Razer stuttering and trying to find another half-lie he can use. Aya, to Razer's undying gratitude, interrupts at this point to inform them that her calculations are complete. It's still a good ten minutes before she'd predicted she would be done, but Razer is simply glad for the distraction.
Hal, for his part, looks between Aya and Razer, and the expression on his face is one Razer, disconcertingly, cannot decipher. Humming contemplatively, he settles back in his chair and tells Aya to take them to Kilowog.
They find Kilowog, entirely unharmed and smugly triumphant, on a familiar planet that's far from its home system, with one other.
Saint Walker.
Kilowog attempts to make introductions, calling Walker a Blue Lantern, whatever that may be, but when he attempts to introduce Razer Walker smiles, greeting him once again using the title of brother.
Razer growls in distaste; this man is no brother of his, nor does he wish him to be one. All his brothers have long since fallen in battle, lost as surely as Ilana and the rest of his homeworld. He needs no reminder of that loss.
Walker, irritatingly enough, is simply amused by Razer's reaction, as he was not so long ago on this same planet. He explains to Hal and Kilowog their previous encounter, painting it in a much more favorable light than Razer would have. He injects a bitter remark of his own in the telling, heeded by no one except perhaps Aya, who is more capable of following multiple lines of conversation... as well as generally more willing to listen to what Razer has to say.
Razer fails to gain no pleasure from that thought.
Something of the pleasure must show in his face, because Saint Walker interrupts his own storytelling to happily declare that he'd been right about Razer, that he is not as lost to his anger as he once appeared. Watching him preen over his hopes being validated, Razer hates Walker more than words can say, and not only because his increased hope has Razer's ring flickering on and off like dying candlelight. Scowling, he marches away.
Saint Walker seems assured that Razer will one day give up his anger - that he must, or be doomed to be twisted by it like so many others before him. What he doesn't understand - what no one seems to understand - is that Razer's anger is the only way he keeps his people, his family, Ilana, alive. To let go of his anger would be to let go of them, and he is not ready to do that. Not yet.
Saint Walker returns to Oa with them on the Interceptor, claiming to wish to meet the Guardian who created his beloved Blue Lantern.
While Razer has no doubt he wishes to do so, and likely will as soon as Kilowog and Hal can find out where Ganthet was exiled, he is equally certain that Walker had a secondary reason to join them. Every chance he gets, he corners Razer to discuss his philosophy of hope, share stories about his own long lost loved ones, and try his best to make Razer open up.
It is nothing short of emotional torture, and his true goal - to convince Razer to exchange his Red Lantern ring for Blue - is both obvious and unachievable. While Razer has considered the possibility that one day, long from now, when his vengeance is wrought and his grief less omnipresent, he might take off the Red Lantern ring for good, he would never take up the banner of hope Saint Walker so proudly waves. He is far too cynical - no, too realistic - to say as Walker does that all will be well, let alone to truly believe it as he does.
Unfortunately, with Hal and Kilowog off interrogating Guardians, and Aya in meetings of her own, Razer's options are limited to talking to Saint Walker, interacting with unfamiliar Green Lanterns (as likely to judge him harshly for the ring he wears as not), or staying on the Interceptor, in his quarters, alone.
Walker wins by a very small margin.
...and, Razer has to admit, their discussions of grief, of honoring those lost without living in the past, are almost helpful. Or, at least, less useless than he expected.
When Hal and Kilowog return, it's with their shoulders shaking in fury; apparently, the coordinates Appa Ali Apsa gave as Ganthet's location instead somehow led them to an Earth bird called a goose. The trip was intended as a distraction for Hal, as the meetings taking up Aya's time are actually the restart of the inorganic sentience debates he interrupted less than a week ago. Though from the way Hal phrases it, "debate" may be an inaccurate word; "trial" seems more appropriate.
And if Aya loses this trial - if she fails to prove that she has become a sentient being - standard procedure for ship repairs after long voyages dictates that her memory will be wiped.
Somehow, Razer has the sense of mind to return to the Interceptor before giving in to his rage, howling at the top of his lungs and allowing caustic Red Lantern energy to eat away at the walls of his quarters. Still it burns within him, an impotent anger that cannot be diminished no matter how hard or long he scream, because everything he does is useless. He is useless. This is not a battle he can win with force, and he knows no other way to fight. Crying out helplessly, he descends into madness.
He loses time.
When next he becomes aware of himself, there is not a square meter of his quarters left uncharred, and when he goes to open the door, it collapses into dust at his feet. No matter, he thinks, mind suddenly, sharply clear. One way or another, the ship will be repaired soon enough. In the meantime, he has work to do.
He finds Hal and Kilowog neck-deep in legal documents, looking for precedents, arguments they can use to show the cool, logical Guardians that Aya is as much a person as any of them, but there isn't much to find. Their only previous attempt at artificial intelligence, the Manhunters of Razer's childhood nightmares, were so purely robotic and limited that they could not see the difference between a man stealing bread for his family and one stealing weapons for his army. Since then, the Guardians have avoided working with machines more complex than on-ship navigational computers; even the creation of the technology the Interceptor uses goes against their practices, as Ganthet so often does.
Razer leaves them to their research, and goes in search of Aya. He finds her locked up for the night in a room disconnected from the circuitry and electronics of the building around it, designed to keep her from attempting an escape. It is an insult to even think she would do so, to go against the Green Lantern Corps she admires so much and has so firmly aligned herself with. Sorrow tugs at his heart at the sight of her, looking so very lost and alone waiting in the center of the room for morning, and he vows to save her any way he can.
The "debates" are set to end tomorrow. He returns to the Interceptor, knowing he doesn't have much time. Luckily, the coordinates he needs are still in the computer's memory, and it is only the work of a moment to take the ship high enough in Oa's atmosphere to activate the ultrawarp drive. From the edge of Guardian space, it should take half a day to reach the planet he needs to find, but he ignores the computer's warnings and taxes the engines, pushing the Interceptor to its limits.
He reaches Zamaron in seven hours.
Ghia'ta is easily convinced to help him, thankfully. Equally thankfully, Oa is the Interceptor's home base; there's never any need to calculate ultrawarp coordinates to get there. If it wasn't for that, he would have needed Aya's help to return, and there would have been no way to get her back to Oa in time for the last day of debates, rendering the whole act pointless. Razer can only hope that the rest of his plans will go as well.
He tells himself that it has to, and nearly believes it. Saint Walker must be getting to him after all.
He can't go as fast through the ultrawarp as he'd like, not after the way he pressed the engines getting to Zamaron, but it's not long before Oa's familiar shape is gleaming against a background of stars on the Interceptor's viewscreen one more time. A Green Lantern contacts him, warns Razer that the Guardians are not pleased with what they view as theft of their most advanced ship, but Razer couldn't care less at this point. His pulse thrumming loud in his ears, he sets the ship down and leaves with Ghia'ta close on his heels, flying for the Guardians' meeting room at a breakneck pace.
Hal is making his closing arguments - a desperate emotional plea, no doubt, which will touch many of the Guardians but not all - when Razer bursts into the room. Aya, standing front and center, breathes his name, and he has to close his eyes against the deja vu the sound inspires, so similar to the last time he saved her, the first time he looked in her eyes and knew the tightness in his chest had a name.
Ghia'ta touches his shoulder, and the contact brings him back to the present. Shrugging her off, he apologizes insincerely to the Guardians for his intrusion and the theft, explaining that he'd taken the Interceptor to get an expert witness vital to Aya's defense. He steps aside to allow Ghia'ta to present his new piece of evidence, and hopes against hope that it will be enough.
She somewhat nervously introduces herself and the Star Sapphires to the Guardians, a handful of whom appear familiar with the violet energy Ghia'ta uses. When prompted, Hal provides the definition of sentience the arguments on both sides have been based on - the ability to independently feel and think. Razer feels triumph well up inside him, but pushes it down; his joy is premature. Ghia'ta seems to gain confidence, though, as she goes on to declare Aya capable of both actions, the first obvious in her design and the second easily proven by Ghia'ta's ring.
Sure enough, the ring flares bright in Aya's presence, a sign of how much she loves. Hope flutters in Razer's chest, but again he squashes the feeling down. This is not the time.
The Guardians are stunned and confused by this revelation, but a few, Appa Ali Apsa among them, remain stubbornly unconvinced. They claim that Ghia'ta could easily be faking the reaction, prompting an insulted response from her. They respond in turn, and the circular argument that ensues about how to truly prove that it's Aya the ring is sensing threatens to throw everything into disorder. It's just beginning to seriously escalate when a calming blue light floods the room.
It appears that Saint Walker managed to find Ganthet after all.
Some of the Guardians cry outrage at Ganthet's blatant disregard for his exile status, but as he points out he was significantly involved in Aya's creation. If anyone has an idea of what she was intended to be capable of, it's him. He also adds under his breath that assuming any data contrary to your expectations is faked is a terribly illogical way to live, not to mention rude, but that appears to be a secondary point to him. He goes on to describe the processes and intentions that went into Aya's development, but the technology is far beyond Razer's comprehension, and so he turns his attention back to Aya herself.
She's staring at him.
Before, he wouldn't stare back so blatantly. He would avert his eyes, afraid of what they would show and embarrassed by it. But that's wrong, because while the strength of his feelings did embarrass him, he was far more afraid of them, and reluctant to admit it. He thought he feared being overwhelmed by his feelings, that he would forget how it felt to love anyone else, and in doing so would forget everyone else he ever loved, but he was wrong about that too.
In part because Saint Walker is right; losing his anger hasn't made him forget, and neither has loving someone new.
But more than that, now he knows what he was really afraid of: the pain of losing her. It's the flip side of the coin to love, this fear; her presence lightens his heart and thrills his mind, but underneath it all is the haunting thought that one day this will be gone. She'll be gone. Razer's had that fear realized too many times to dismiss it out of hand, and when he came a hairsbreadth from losing Aya, the pain at just the thought was familiar and overwhelming in its intensity. So he knows, now, that however much he lets himself love her, or doesn't, it will hurt just as bad to lose her.
When the pain of loss is as strong regardless, it's foolish to not take what joy he can from the love that causes it.
And so he looks at Aya, and for the first time since this revelation took his breath away, lets himself feel everything. The irritation he felt before he really knew her, the camaraderie and friendship that developed quickly after that, the respect for her as an intelligent being, the admiration of her strength and determination, the frustration with her stubbornness, the gratitude for her kindness, the fear for her safety and the relief found in protecting her, and most of all, the love for her, made up of all of the above and something more beyond, a desire to be with her and make her happy that is so intense she's become a priority above all others.
Aya's eyes widen, she gasps, and Razer suddenly realizes how very still and... violet... the room has gotten.
Well, that, as Ganthet puts it, settles that. The Guardians can (and do) argue freely among themselves whether or not Aya should be considered a fully fledged Green Lantern, with a ring and everything, but to claim Ghia'ta was falsifying her ring's reactions to love is patently ridiculous at this point. She couldn't see Razer when her ring started reacting to him, but everyone who could agrees that his face said it all.
It's a bit more public a declaration than he intended, but Razer's almost glad for it. He can't back down now, can't talk himself out of telling Aya or claim he didn't mean it. An entire room of Guardians and Green Lanterns knows otherwise.
Now, if he could only actually find Aya. She disappeared the moment a unanimous decision was reached on her status as a sentient being, and Razer was unable to follow. He looks down at the broken ring in his hand and marvels that this, of all things, was what it could not handle. It almost seems funny, when so much of his rage was because of love.
Then again, he was hardly dealing with the loss of that love in a particularly healthy way. If he had someone to talk him through his grief back then, maybe his love would have never been channeled into that rage and bloodthirsty desire for vengeance. Maybe he could have honored Ilana's memory in a way she would appreciate, rather than with more of the violence she had always loathed.
But then he would have never met Aya, or the other Green Lanterns.
A person coughing behind him distracts Razer from that line of thought. He sighs, recognizing the voice, and holds out a hand, finally acquiescing.
The pieces of the Red Lantern ring fall unnoticed to the ground as Razer slips on his new one. All will be well, he says self-deprecatingly, nearly laughing when the half-serious thought translates to a rush of energy flowing through him. He lifts off from the ground and flies in the direction he last saw Aya, picking up speed as he adjusts to this new form of flight. Getting frustrated and angry as he hunted down an enemy was always easy; having faith that he'll find Aya isn't really so different, but it is a little disorienting at first.
He finds her back at the Interceptor, of all places, busying herself with repair estimates. He stumbles a little on his landing, distracted, and the noise alerts Aya to his presence. She pauses for a moment, then goes back to her work, by all appearances completely ignoring him.
Not that he's allowed himself to think much about it, but Razer hadn't considered this reaction. Rejection, yes. Public humiliation, frequently. Reciprocation, rarely. The cold shoulder, though? That's not like Aya.
When he asks, she says flatly that she'd thought better of him. That she understood taking advantage of the phenomenon to reach Oa in time to stop Atrocitus, but to lie to the Guardians and Green Lanterns? To bring someone else in on the act? To put on that performance? That, she says, was cruel.
Lost, Razer can only wonder, what phenomenon? What performance?
Awkwardly, with uncharacteristic hesitance, Aya explains, inadvertently revealing that Razer has perhaps idealized her in some ways by assuming she is completely beyond organic illogic. The phenomenon she describes makes it clear that she believes Razer was able to use the Star Sapphires' portal to reach her because she superficially resembles Ilana, of all the ridiculous things. But as she continues talking, it begins to take on a twisted amount of sense. When he told her that how he got to her didn't matter, she thought he said so because it was not truly about her, but rather about the woman Queen Aga'po identified as his true love. And after their queen dismissed Aya as an emotionless robot, it must have looked strange for Ghia'ta to come into the room declaring her a living, feeling thing.
Razer tries to interrupt, but Aya's picked up steam and won't be stopped. Each sentence hurts more than the last, revealing how poorly Razer's communicated himself to someone so important to him, but the last one is undoubtably the worst. Those breathless moments Razer has let himself hope were signs of possible reciprocation were moments when Aya was in pain, hurt because she thought he was looking at her and seeing someone else entirely.
When she's done, glaring defiantly at him, Razer is speechless for too long, and she returns to her work.
He apologizes, quietly, and starts talking.
Words have never been his strong suit, and he suspects that even now he'll prefer to fight his battles with fists and weapons rather than diplomatic turns of phrase, but it's clear he needs to put in the effort here. His reluctance to use words to describe what it is that lies between them has led to misery for both of them, and the only way he can change that is to explain himself. So he does. He tells her everything he can think of, every truth yet unspoken between them, every emotion he feels for her that he's capable of putting into words, feeling more inadequate the longer he speaks but with no acceptable alternative he can think of.
He doesn't know how long he goes on for, but his voice is hoarse and his throat sore by the end of it. He hopes that she'll believe what he's said, and his ring flickers weakly in response. Aya stares at the ring for a long, quiet moment, then lays her hand over his. Razer stares at it, heart pounding in his ears.
Then, she wonders, Queen Aga'po was wrong? I... can feel? Her hand twists until palm meets palm, and Razer laces their fingers together. The contact soothes him even as it brings up old memories, of taking comfort in a loved one's presence, and he hopes that what he could not find words for is expressed through this. Aya looks at their hands, blue and green and white intertwined, and must see something in it, for she nods decisively. Yes. I do feel.
Razer's breath catches in his throat, and he smiles. As do I.