Here i am

To live again, Aya mused through the faint buzz of her body twitching its way back to life, was like the first time. A great rush and a gentle voice, familiar and warm and male. English--North American subcontinent. She remembered that much from her first introduction, even if the database she pulled it from was lost to her now.

Her vision did not blink as much as it fizzed and popped its way back. Pockmarks of starlight, bright bursts with nowhere to go while the universe came back to shape. Aya did not cough or sigh or breathe. She could do nothing of the sort. Her limbs, lanky, pale things did not respond immediately to her command.

But...

It had been a long time since she had lain her eyes on the stars.

Aya did not recognise these ones. The sputters of her mind, still rebooting, fixated on three stars in a line and only bleated out the word Orion, a faraway word, an unfamiliar one. Not one from the database, she thought quietly. A word gifted to her alone.

"Aya? Aya, look at me. Aya, please," said a voice, a very persistent voice.

"Just a moment," she whispered. With an otherworldly creak only she suffered to hear, Aya turned her neck to look at the shadow beside her, the owner of that voice dressed in imperial green.

He looked... Aya knew human hair lost its pigmentation once at a certain age. Still, the white hair was jarring, as were the rings of weariness, the guarded way he sat with his cape balled in one fist. Strange. Hal had never worn a cape.

He had never looked more mortal to her.

"Aya," he breathed again. It took a moment for her to realise that the expression on his face was that of naked fear. She had never seen him this afraid either. Something about it unsettled her. "Can you--"

"Where am I?" Her eyes turned to the stars and then a little further. A marble sat in the distance. Beyond that, light. "I don't understand, Hal. Where am I? What happened?"

His expression crumpled. "You-you don't remember?"

How could she forget? Was that not Aya's curse? To remember all, to keep it all within herself and hope not to burst. Isn't that what she did? One finger traced a mindless pattern in the soft dust she lay in while her mouth waited for a coherent response. "I am dead," she said simply. The rot gone. The cancer trimmed neatly away.

"No." The way Hal said it was vehement enough to be desperate. Aya's head tilted. "No. You-you're back. You're okay."

Was she? Odd thing to say when she'd been scattered for so long. "I see. Where...where am I?"

To this, Hal's eyes glazed over and he stared at a point over Aya's head. "Home," he murmured, though it was no home Aya had ever known. "It's safe here."

Could that be true for her? She wasn't sure. Achingly, carefully, she sat up. His hand braced against her back to help her, warm and wide, tentative like he was still afraid. Of what? Her?

"Hal," she said quietly, her gaze affixed again to the white hair streaking away from his eyes, "how long has it been?"

He faltered then and the smile he forced looked painful to her. "Don't worry. Don't-it's okay. It's okay, kid." At her silence, he hurried on. "You have to have a lot of questions, don't you?"

"Plenty." They were alone on this rock and it was so quiet. A quiet that screamed. "Is Razer safe?"

There, his expression froze over again in that fear. "I'm not sure. I haven't...he's been away a lot time."

"I had hoped he would be safe," she said forlornly. "You did not look for him?"

"I--"

Aya didn't wait for an answer. There was another absence she felt sorely, an ache deep in her chest. "Where is Kilowog?"

Hal reared back as if she'd struck him. She hadn't, of course she hadn't but his mouth turned downwards in horror, eyes blown wide and bright. Brown, not warm but murky with terror. "Aya," he gasped, like he was choking on something.

She understood then, though it struck her hard and fast and left her dazed. Accidents happened. The Corps was not a kind profession. But she had hoped...

"Would you please tell me how it happened?" she asked quietly.

But Hal could not even give her that, staring like he wanted to run away and hide. Her unease grew at the widening cracks guilt left upon his face. His mouth was set firm, his hands shaking and oh--

The rings.

Aya could not fear Hal Jordan. She ought, perhaps, but she still reached out with a stead hand and uncooperative fingers to brush against two of the many rings she wore. Neither were his own. Aya would know.

"Aya," he rasped, her name acting as his apology.