Broken

~*~*~*

Disclaimer: I don't own Justice League. Wah wah wah wah pout.

Random Note: This story takes place before Wild Cards. It will not fit in with the continuity of the series past a certain point. That's all. ^^
~*~*~*

*click*

*click*

*click*

The footsteps of John Stewart continued to fall in a rhythmic pattern as he paced up and down the narrow corridor. There wasn't much more he could do. It was his own fault, really. Maybe he would've still been in there, if he hadn't been so damn emotional. J'onn had ended up saying it would be better if he waited out here, for all of their sakes.

So, that was when the pacing had started. Anything to keep his mind numb, anything to keep from thinking about it.

Unfortunately for John, his constant movement wasn't so soothing for anyone else. Flash narrowed his eyes, slumped in a cushy chair on the side of the hall. "Would you just give it a rest?"

John paused long enough to shoot Flash an icy glare. "Shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up!" The fastest man alive was up in a second, cutting John off before he could take another step. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be sitting here like this in the first place!"

"I said SHUT UP!" His eyes turned their unnatural shade of emerald green as his hands became fists.

Flash wasn't the least bit intimidated. "Why should I? Or are you gunna put me in there too?!"

He gave an involuntary gasp as John grasped the neck of his costume, pulling him foward until he had a good, close look at the man's enraged face. He nearly made a crack about breathmints, but decided this probably wasn't the best time for that. "One more word, Flash. Just say one more word." His voice was low, dangerous.

If Flash was in his right mind, maybe he would've backed down. But not now. "Go on. Getting a little more blood on that ring won't matter, will it?"

John tightened his grip on the red fabric in his hand. "You know damn well I never meant to - !"

"Tell her that!"

For a long moment, there was nothing. Neither said a word, and neither one moved. Finally, something happened; the door to the medical bay opened, and there stood J'onn, his expression neutral.

Promptly releasing Flash, John walked towards the martian. Finally, he could ask the question that had been plaguing his mind for hours. "How is she? Is she going to be alright?"

Hesitantly, J'onn spoke. "She is going to survive. Her injuries are not fatal, though it will take time for her to recover." The sense of relief that flooded the room made him feel that much more guilty for what he was going to say next. "However...the wounds will have a lasting effect. Her back took the worst of the blast." He took a deep breath, bracing his mind for their reaction.

"Her wings were damaged beyond repair. Hawkgirl will never fly again."