Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Coast City, California. Population: 7,056,714

[Reentry in 8 seconds,] his ring tells him on its familiar monotone.

"Do we have enough juice left to stay in orbit for a few minutes?" Hal asks, watching the northern lights burn across the arctic under him.

He wouldn't mind dropping by the Watchtower to hang out with the League. He hasn't seen his friends in months and he misses their presence, their banter, even Bruce's faked annoyance whenever Hal tries to tease him.

[Negative,] the ring replies like a total killjoy.

"Fine. Straight to home, then."

Hal cuts through the atmosphere somewhere above the Pacific Ocean and heads for the California coastline. People in Coast City are used to seeing a burst of green light blaze across the sky, but swimmers and surfers still point at him as he flies over Dropaway Beach. A grin pulls at the corners of his mouth. He loves the Corps and being lost in the stars but after months of dealing with endless misery in space, it's good to be back home.

***

Coast City, California. Population: 0


A mushroom cloud towers over the crater that used to be Coast City. Beaches, buildings, and people are swallowed up in hot smoke and ash because a megalomaniac warlord from outer space was hell-bent on pointless destruction. Seven million people are lying in the mass grave that used to be his city and there's nothing he can do about it.

Something in Hal cracks, never to be repaired again.

***

Coast City, California. Population: 726

The news stream playing on the Batcomputer paints a bleak picture of what's going on in Coast City. The aerial footage shows vast, empty land where the metropolis used to be, then zooms in on a tiny spec of movement near the shore where excavators and building crews are working to reconstruct it all one building at a time. The small group against the scale of destruction looks ridiculous, their efforts hopeless. The government's post-disaster rehabilitation project only just started but it's already decried as a waste of money and resources.

The roads of the city have been remade as if by magic, carefully following the city's old layout like they were reconstructed from the collective memories of all the people who have died there. Their origin is a mystery still discussed on social media and niche forums, erroneously linked to conspiracy theories and aliens. Bruce could tell them Hal Jordan is responsible but no one would believe him.

Jordan is still trying to resurrect his city from the ashes and just like last time, it's going to end in tears. He claims he has changed but Bruce doesn't trust him at all. Would Jordan snap again? How far would he go this time? His descent into madness broke the trust Bruce had in the League, made him devise plan after plan against his own friends in case they went the same route Jordan did. There's no way Bruce is going to forgive and forget like everyone else.

He closes the news site and leans back in his chair. He needs to keep a closer eye on Jordan, beyond all the surveillance footage he has of him, and alert the League if (when) he goes off the rails again. A major undertaking but one worth the price.

Bruce picks up the phone and puts on his best Brucie voice.

"Candice? How do I go about making a large donation to the rebuilding efforts in Coast City?"

***

Hal strolls down the white, sandy shores of Dropaway Beach. It's empty, his only company the occasional noisy seagull and the rhythmic sounds of the ocean. The horizon is peppered with steel cranes and the bones of would-be skyscrapers growing out of the ground.

The rebirth of Coast City is a slow process. The government is talking a big game about post-disaster rehabilitation, resilience strategies, and community recovery but none of that will bring back the people who have died. Nothing will. Hal has tried to undo it all and just made everything worse. The old Coast City is gone and so is his life as he knew it. Carol is married to some guy he's never heard of and Hal's lucky he has his ring back at all. The only thing he can do now is move forward.

He pulls out his phone (brand new) and scrolls down his list of contacts (woefully short). Few people want to hang out with a guy who went crazy with grief over getting his city blown up, then caused a whole lot of murderous problems afterward. Some Leaguers are willing to give him a second chance but since Hal hates himself, he chooses the guy most likely to tell him to fuck off and calls Bruce.

The phone rings once before Bruce picks it up.

"What do you want?"

"I heard on the news your company started funding a ton of projects in Coast City," Hal says all in one breath, half expecting Bruce to end the call then and there.

Bruce makes a humming noise. Hal thinks he'll leave it at that to make the conversation as uncomfortable as possible, but he opens his mouth after all.

"Is this Hal Jordan or Parallax speaking?"

Bastard should have stuck to making vague humming noises.

"Listen here, you paranoid ass. I'm trying to thank you for helping my city recover so can it for like five seconds, okay?"

It stings, even though he knows Bruce has a good reason to distrust him. Everyone does.

"No need to thank me, Jordan. I'm doing it for the people of Coast City."

"There are barely any people here, Bruce. It's mostly just the building crews and their families."

"And you," Bruce says, his tone suspicious.

"Yeah, and? Wouldn't you do the same if Gotham was destroyed?" There's silence on the other end of the line. Hal thinks he has finally managed to make his point. "Just... thanks for everything."

More silence. Did Bruce hang up on him? Hal almost pulls the phone away from his ear when Bruce replies.

"You're welcome."

The line clicks quietly and goes dead.

Well, that could have gone worse. Better, too, but Hal is willing to count his blessings. His stint as Parallax burnt a lot of bridges and some will take time to be rebuilt.

He heads home. He could fly but decides to walk instead, taking the scenic route to check out how the development is going near Star Square. The only people he meets are construction workers and an old lady walking her Pomeranian. He passes by the new memorial park dedicated to the victims of the city's destruction. It's brown and barren, not open to the public yet, so he pauses by the wire fence to watch a crew install the irrigation system. Something like survivor's guilt bubbles up in his chest but he squashes it down. Move forward, move forward.

He finds his brother waiting for him by his empty apartment. It's no tearful family reunion but they haven't seen each other since before the destruction of Coast City and the relief at seeing the other alive is palpable between them.

They compare notes on who in their family and circle of friends died in the disaster. It's a grimm topic but almost inevitable when two people from Coast City meet for the first time. 'No, I was on the road when it happened.' 'Only four people will be at our high school reunion.' 'We were on vacation at the time but my wife's side of the family is gone.' The stories Hal has heard are starting to blend together.

Jim tries to convince him to move somewhere else. Hal shouldn't be surprised; Jim has always been the more cautious one of his brothers so it's no wonder he expects the city to be blown up again.

"Sacramento is a nice enough place," Jim says conversationally and takes off his glasses to wipe the lenses clean with the edge of his shirt.

"I'm glad you like it there."

Jim is silent for a moment. It's not like Hal didn't understand what he was hinting at, it's that he has no interest in his offer.

"I think it'd be better for you, emotionally, to let this place go."

The implications are loud and clear. The last time Hal was this hell-bent on resurrecting Coast City from the ashes, he became delusional and tried to rewrite reality. Parallax is the ever-present elephant in every room he walks into and he's getting sick of it.

"What happened to Helen?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

"She lives in San Jose with her mother."

"Janice woke up from the coma?"

"Yeah, just before you... came back. I'm sure they'd welcome you if you'd rather live near them."

"I'll drop by their place if you have their new address," he says because that at least isn't a polite lie.

Jim writes down the address and they say their goodbyes, making vague noises about a family day trip to Valdale at an unspecified time in the future.

As soon as Jim disappears behind a corner, Hal shuts the door and sags against the frame. He refuses to abandon his city. He can't live life always looking over his shoulder and waiting for the next disaster to strike. Coast City is a second chance and he isn't going to throw it away just because it'd be the easy way out.

His phone chimes at him from the sofa and he drags himself away from the door to check it. He doesn't get a lot of social calls nowadays and the other Lanterns would use their rings to contact him, so it must be someone from work. Hal plops down and pats around under the cushions until he finds his phone. He almost drops it when he realizes it's a text from Bruce.

I'm coming over on Friday.

Hal stares at the screen blankly. Alright, what the fuck?

Chapter Text

"It's certainly an opportunity, Mr Wayne, but I need to caution you."

Bruce resists the urge to rub between his eyes. The California sun glaring down at him is an annoyance in itself but his business partner hounding him over his investments in Coast City is worse. 

He hands the yellow hard hat back to the crew as they leave the construction site of the new Wayne Enterprises headquarters. The unfinished highrise stands in the would-be business district of Coast City, towering over all existing buildings, a testament to Wayne Enterprises' commitment to the rehabilitation project.

"It's prime real estate, Alec," Bruce says to his frazzled colleague. It's an effort to keep his tone light and ditzy when he's feeling weary. "And it's dirt cheap."

"It's 'dirt cheap' because nobody wants to live in Coast City anymore, sir."

Bruce looks at his watch in a thinly veiled attempt to communicate his annoyance. He has another meeting in twenty minutes and he needs to do something about his headache to maintain his facade.

"The government is putting considerable resources into resurrecting the place," he says. "It'll be a bustling metropolis in no time and I'm going to own the best properties. It'll print money!"

Alec's left eye twitches. Bruce can sympathize.

"Sir, think of the optics, at least. Even if the venture is successful, people will accuse you of profiting off tragedy."

"Nonsense!" Bruce replies and pulls out his phone. "We'll be building factories and research facilities here to create jobs and help the city recover. Probably some hospitals and affordable housing too. The people will love it."

He dials one of his assistants to set up an appointment before Alec could go on a rant about his cavalier attitude. 

He suffers through two more meetings before he's free for the day. The roads are empty when he drives back to the only semi-luxury hotel in town for a late lunch. He pulls into the deserted parking lot, passing by vegetation that's much greener than anywhere else in the city. 

His room is modern and clean, good enough for his purposes. If he had any sense, he'd take the opportunity for a nap but that can wait. He wants to be back in Gotham by the evening and he still needs to see Jordan.

After lunch, he drives to Jordan's address, noting a lone motorcycle in front of the building. The apartment complex is so new Bruce can smell fresh paint as soon as he opens the door. He takes the stairs to note the placement of cameras, his steps echoing in the grave-silent space. Wires are left exposed in some places, some light fixtures unfinished.

"Bruce?" Jordan asks in surprise when he opens his door with a large cup of coffee in his hand. He glances both ways like he's checking if Bruce was followed by cameras or paparazzi. "Why are you here? Did something happen?"

"I thought you'd be interested in how the project is going," Bruce says and holds up a laptop.

Jordan eyes it like it's going to blow any second before he opens his door wider. They both know that 'the project' could only refer to one thing.

"Yeah, okay. Come on in."

Bruce steps in, his gaze sweeping the room for exit points. Jordan's place is mostly utilitarian, though hardly sterile. Photos of his friends and family are all over the living room and there's a replica of an old-timey Blackhawk Squadron poster pinned to the wall. A miserable-looking potted plant is slowly dying under it, its leaves turning yellow.

"Coffee?" Jordan asks from the kitchen. "I'm warning you, it's instant."

Bruce is still tempted.

"No, thank you," he says and unbuttons his suit before taking a seat on the sofa. "What do you know about the redevelopment project?"

"That not enough people are moving back so investors are bailing and Congress is considering cutting funds before they pull the plug on the whole thing," Jordan says as he walks back from the kitchen and sits next to Bruce. He looks tired but lucid. He's freshly shaved but his hair is a smidge longer than he usually prefers. His clothes, an old white T-shirt and sweatpants, are worn but clean. "In other words, it's a failure."

Bruce makes a noise of acknowledgement in his throat and opens the laptop on the coffee table.

"Wayne Enterprises isn't withdrawing," he says and pays close attention to Jordan's reaction, to how his shoulders relax at the words. He pulls up maps and blueprints on the screen. "We're currently in talks with City Hall to set up a crystalline silicon solar cell factory and to buy land for further research facilities."

"That's great?" Jordan says.

"I'm also investing in office buildings in the business district near Wayne HQ. The property values will skyrocket if Coast City recovers."

Jordan tenses at the word 'if' but gives no further signs of stress.

"You should buy up land near Presidio too," he says, "and build waterfront villas for your rich buddies. Guaranteed profit."

Amusement tugs at the corners of Bruce's lips but he keeps a straight face.

"I'll add it to the list."

It's a pity their friendship is ruined because he can, on rare occasion, enjoy Jordan's company. That's the problem. They used to be friends and Bruce trusted Jordan with his life. Having that trust ripped to shreds changed something between them permanently.

Jordan leans back and runs a hand through his thick hair.

"Bruce, why are you really here? Not that I don't appreciate what you're doing for the city but we both know you don't care about my opinion on any of this."

Bruce stretches an arm over the back of the sofa.

"What would you do if the Coast City project was shut down?"

"I don't know," Jordan says and takes a sip of his coffee. "Maybe I'd finally take my brother's advice and move closer to family."

His shoulders sag at the idea. Jordan, being the stubborn man he is, doesn't like giving up, no matter how impossible the odds are. He's as bullheaded as they come, holding onto his city like a lifeline. Bruce studies him, looking for any cracks in the facade but he acts just as Bruce remembers him being before Parallax.

"No thoughts of resurrecting the city on your own?"

Jordan turns to him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you interrogating me right now?" he asks and stands up, his coffee mug clinking hard against the table. He sounds betrayed. Bruce can relate. "I thought you were being nice for once but of course not, you're just here to gather intel."

"I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Oh, I'm sure," Jordan says, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Out of curiosity, have you hacked the cameras in the building?"

"Not yet," Bruce says flatly.

"Unbelievable," Jordan says and turns his back on him to stare out the window overlooking his city. 

Bruce expects him to kick him out so he closes his laptop and stands up.

"Make sure you don't give me a reason to do so," he says as he rebuttons his suit. "Or I'll have to involve the League to—"

"The League trusts me," Jordan says, his tone biting. "Only you don't."

"The League is full of idealists all too willing to see the best in people," Bruce says and walks to the door, his laptop clutched under his arm. "Unlike them, I can be objective about you."

He can hear Jordan mutter 'bullshit' under his breath.

"Not that I care to prove myself to you," Jordan says, "but what would convince you anyway? A psych eval? J'onn probing my mind and confirming I'm definitely not Parallax anymore?"

Neither of those would, which makes Bruce realize he might have impossible standards. No matter. He trusts his own judgement alone and remaining cautious is the most rational choice.

"Just stay out of trouble," he says, knowing full well Jordan won't, and takes his leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

Chapter Text

The events of his visit to Jordan keep replaying in Bruce's mind. He eventually comes to the conclusion that he doesn't have impossible standards, it's that he only trusts his own judgement. Were he to give Jordan another chance, he'd need to see him in the field and evaluate his behaviour for himself.

The opportunity arrives a few weeks later. It's not a case Bruce would normally need help with but the killer is potentially connected to Coast City and it's a good excuse to call Jordan to Gotham.

Bruce is working on the Batcomputer when Jordan shows up, a too bright light in the comfortable darkness. The bats resting in the depths of the cave flee in a skittering cloud.

"There you are, the second grouchiest hero of Gotham," Jordan says with an irritating grin, "after Alan."

Bruce's eyes narrow and he stands up.

"If you got paid for being annoying, you'd be richer than me," he says.

Jordan's grin doesn't falter.

"Man, I wish. I wouldn't have to worry about bills." He floats closer and his feet finally touch the ground. "By the way, I managed to convince my brother and his family to move back to Coast City. I've been helping them unpack their stuff."

"Hn."

Jordan keeps trying but Bruce rebuffs his every attempt at friendly small talk with one word replies until Jordan gives up on the banter and focuses on the case.

Bruce presents him with documents on the Tattooed Man killing people in Gotham. Each murder is gruesome and supposedly motivated by revenge. The photos of bloody corpses only elicit a mild grimace from Jordan; it's clear they're both too used to the sight of carnage.

"Why come to me with this?" Jordan asks.

"The Tattooed Man is from Coast City and I want him out of Gotham."

"My guy is sitting in prison. This Richards fellow is just a copycat."

"They could still be connected."

"I don't know..." Jordan looks thoughtful, not dismissing everything Bruce is saying out of sheer bullheaded contrarianism for a change. "I'll look into Tarrant later but I don't expect to find anything. He has been trying to go straight for years."

"Good," Bruce says and tosses the files on the table. "Now let's deal with Richards."

"You want me to fly us there?" Jordan asks when they pass by the Batwing, his voice brimming with excitement.

"Don't you fly enough at your day job?"

Jordan reaches up and all but caresses the plane.

"They aren't letting me fly. I work in the repair hangars as a glorified mechanic." He sounds bitter, obviously sick of being grounded. He can fly as a Lantern but Bruce knows it doesn't give him the same thrill as piloting a jet. "I've been considering taking the Javelin for a joyride."

Bruce ignores the bait.

"Get in the car. I'm driving."

Jordan mutters 'control freak' under his breath but follows Bruce to the Batmobile. His long legs barely fit the space in front of Tim's seat once he gets in. 

Gotham rushes past them in a blur, its shadows deep like smeared ink. Some billboards flash by but Jordan is the only persistent source of light in this part of the city. They pass the drive to Richards' place arguing with each other about the case.

"My gut is telling me this guy has never once stepped foot in Coast City," Jordan says.

"I'd prefer if you used your head instead," Bruce replies as they take a sharp turn. 

They come to a stop in front of a giant motel sign, its yellow light flickering above their heads. The motel is a run-down little place, far from the shine and splendor of Wayne Tower.

"Listening to my instincts doesn't make me stupid," Jordan says as he gets out.

Bruce ignores him. He gets out too and stalks closer to the building, watching for movement around Richards' door.

"Ring," Jordan says to his left, "camouflage mode."

His light burns out and the green parts of his uniform dull in color until he's wearing all black, blending into the darkness of Gotham.

"If your suit can do that, why are you always flying around like a flashing target?" Bruce asks.

"So the bad guys shoot at me and not at random civilians."

"If you're that eager to be bait, I have an idea."

That's how Jordan ends up fighting Richards' tattooes come to life while Bruce slips past them unnoticed. Jordan throws himself into the fray, attacking a giant scorpion and a centipede the length of a truck. It can't be that different from dealing with constructs but Jordan still comes out of the fight bleeding. Gone is the ever-powerful Parallax the League could only talk down but never defeat; Jordan, though clearly experienced and tough, appears mortal.

Bruce is busy taking care of Richards, something he needs no help with, but Jordan still flicks away a flying vulture tattoo trying to attack him from behind just as he knocks Richards out. Bruce nods at Jordan in acknowledgement, then turns away to work on wrapping up the case.

On their way back to the manor, Bruce replays the fight in his head. It felt like some of their old cases, when everything was simpler and Bruce had unwavering faith in Jordan to have his back. Too bad those times are gone for good, Bruce thinks as he pulls into the cave.

"Home, sweet home," Jordan says as he steps out of the Batmobile and pushes the door shut. "It's just as cold and full of weird crap as we left it."

Jordan will really comment on anything to hear himself talk.

"Your suit is a heated blanket and mine is insulated," Bruce says gruffly.

"Yeah, but I know you often hang out here in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Even though you insist on wearing your suit around me nowadays."

Ah, so that's what's bothering him. Bruce has visited Jordan unarmored (though not unarmed) but as Batman, he hasn't even taken off the cowl in his presence.

"I have no reason to do otherwise," he says.

"Because you don't trust me?" Jordan asks and slips off his ring. 

His suit melts away almost immediately, revealing that he's wearing his usual combination of shirt, jeans, brown work boots, and aviator jacket underneath.

He's too vulnerable like this, without his powers, his shields, his mask. Bruce knows Jordan trains his hand to hand with Ollie regularly but he isn't skilled enough to take down Bruce if they came to blows.

Jordan holds out his ring toward him, his brown eyes full of sincerity. 

"Let me show you something."

His first instinct is to reject the offer. It could be a trap but it's a gamble for Jordan as well. He's volunterily handing his powers over to Bruce and leaving himself vulnerable.

Unlike Jordan, Bruce isn't a creature of instinct. Others may call him paranoid but he relies on reason and deduction to solve his cases and his experience tells him to give Jordan a chance to prove himself at his most defenseless.

Bruce reaches out and slips on the ring.

It's a mistake. Not because Jordan was trying to trick him, not at all. He's forward about how a Lantern's abilities work, willingly providing all the insight Bruce could ever want, but as Bruce stares at his first construct, the shining faces of his parents bathing the cave in green light, he realizes using these powers comes with too heavy a price. He lets the construct dissolve despite Jordan's encouraging words. He's unwilling to move on from their deaths while he still has work to do.

He pulls off the ring and holds it out to Jordan. Their fingertips brush for a moment when he takes it back and Bruce wants to reach out as soon as the contact is lost. 

Jordan's uniform manifests around him in a flash of scattering light and he moves to leave. As unpleasant as the experience of wearing the ring was, it was ultimately harmless. Jordan wasn't trying to deceive him or possess him, he was offering Bruce a chance to move past his worst memory. Helpful, like a friend. A part of Bruce wants their relationship to be back to how it used to be but that only works if he gives it a second chance.

"...Hal?" Bruce asks, the word slipping out like a forgotten memory.

Hal pauses at the mouth of the cave, silhouette outlined by faint moonlight, and turns to look at Bruce.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're back."

***

"Why didn't you call in the League when Mongul made contact?" Bruce growls at Hal who is, as usual, ignoring his concerns.

The rest of the League falls silent while the Watchtower buzzes with its usual quiet beeps and whirs in the background. 

"Green Arrow and I took care of it," Hal says and looks at Ollie with a grin.

Ollie grins back and winks at him. Bruce is immediately annoyed.

"Cut the cavalier attitude, Lantern," he says.

"He was born with an attitude, Bats," Ollie says and turns to Hal. "Right, Mr California?"

"Guilty as charged," Hal says and leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

"This is the warlord who destroyed Coast City and you didn't think to call for backup?" Bruce asks. "Or did you want to wait until he destroys it again?"

The grin falls from Hal's face and he leans forward at the table.

"Like you'd outsource the decision-making to the League if the Joker blew up Gotham," he growls. The other Leaguers exchange glances. "That was my fight to deal with! I took care of it and Ollie was there as my backup. Can we move on?"

They, in fact, move on. The League goes back to discussing the cases they've been dealing with on their own while Bruce fumes in silence.

A long time later, Bruce pulls into the Batcave and sits in the driver's seat for a second. He replays what happened on the Watchtower in his mind, this time focusing on his own reactions instead of how Hal behaved. His hands tighten around the wheel. Maybe he was too quick to react. He could blame it on not wanting his investments in Coast City wasted if it gets blown up again but he mostly feared what it would do to Hal.

He's greeted by the earthy smell of the cave when he gets out and heads to the computer. Hal gave him his ring's recordings of the fight to review and Bruce intends to do just that. 

("How do I know it wasn't tempered with?" 

"You'll have to trust me.") 

Bruce sits down at his usual place with a weary sigh and prepares for a long evening.

An eternity later, Alfred's familiar gait descends the stairs behind him. He comes to a stop next to Bruce and arches a judgemental eyebrow.

"Master Bruce, the video evidence you have of Captain Jordan is fast approaching half a terabyte."

"He's no longer a captain," Bruce says without looking away from the screen.

"I'm familiar with the circumstances of his dishonorable discharge," Alfred says as he heads back up to the manor. "Dinner will be served in half an hour, sir."

Bruce continues to scan the new files and browse old security footage. Hal working out. Hal hanging out with Ollie and Dinah. On one notable occasion, Hal messing with the Watchtower's video archives to pull up recordings of a long-dead Barry Allen. Inadvisable and breaking protocol, but not particularly suspicious. 

Bruce rewatches the footage of Mongul's attack. It's a brutal fight but Hal and Ollie handle it like seasoned heroes. 

Bruce sighs and lets his body relax. Hal really is back to normal, in every sense of the word. He's neither a villain bidding his time, nor will he revert back to Parallax at the first sign of trouble. 

Bruce pulls up the folder with all the Watchtower security footage he has of Hal and deletes, well, most of it. His favorites, only titled with long jumbles of numbers and letters he has memorized, remain in his archives, just in case.

He shuts off the computer and heads to the shower. He has a gala to attend tonight and he can't let thoughts of Hal distract him.

Chapter Text

"Are you usually this involved with the company's projects?" Hal asks as they stand on the sandy beach near Presidio and stare at the construction crew in hard hats and high visibility vests pouring concrete further inland.

"I figure my presence will draw more attention to the city," Bruce says. He's wearing slacks and an expensive-looking white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. The attractive image is somewhat ruined by the knowledge his fancy shoes must be full of sand. "You'd be amazed how many people only ever read celebrity news."

Hal's sure he'd be. Bruce has been more cordial as of late but their newfound cooperation is a muscle that hasn't been exercised in a long time. They're both rusty at being friends. 

"So, what are we looking at?" Hal asks. "New shopping district? High-end hotels?"

"Waterfront villas for my rich buddies," Bruce says, deadpan.

Hal laughs.

"Took my advice, huh?"

"In my defense, I'm reinvesting the profits in affordable housing."

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna need that," Hal replies and pulls out a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of his aviator jacket and holds it up so Bruce can read the big, fat EVICTION NOTICE title at the top. "My landlord has sold the building because he's leaving Coast City."

Hal isn't a stranger to couchsurfing and living out of a truck so he knows he can handle it. He's more worried about Coast City. Bruce is trying his best to help but it seems to be in vain. People are simply too afraid to move back, fearing it's only a matter of time before it gets blown up again. Businesses can't thrive without people so even those who have come back are forced to give up and leave eventually.

"Do you want one of the villas?" Bruce asks out of the blue like the crazy fucker he is.

"What?"

Bruce motions to three construction workers carrying a stack of rebar. Someone shouts something about lunch break.

"Some of the villas will be in a habitable condition by the end of the month. I don't expect to find buyers for them in the near future. You can stay in one of them while—"

"No," Hal says and holds up his hands. The eviction notice slips from his fingers and flutters to the ground. "Jesus, Bruce, that's insane. I don't want a fucking villa. I don't care about luxury, I just need somewhere to sleep. I could live in a trailer and be happy."

Honestly, if he didn't know Bruce better, he'd think he was flaunting his wealth. The effort would be wasted on Hal considering how much he doesn't care about affluence. It's more likely Bruce is just trying to help, like he does with the city, even if he goes about it in the most absurdly rich person way possible.

"In that case," Bruce says and scoops up the sheet of paper before the wind could blow it into the ocean, "the top of the new Wayne HQ is a penthouse I rarely use. The retina scanner will let you in."

Before Hal can think of a reason to object, Bruce approaches the construction manager with a question and tosses the crumpled eviction notice into one of the crew's makeshift trashcans.

***

Duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, Hal stares up at Wayne HQ standing proudly in Coast City's brand new business district. It's a bit smaller than Wayne Tower in Gotham but it's hard to miss, being one of the few completed skyscrapers in the area. It's dark and imposing, a gunmetal gray hunk of glass and steel overlooking the sunny streets. Hal makes a mental note to ask Bruce why he's building his own little Mordor in beautiful California, then weaves his way through a small group of teenagers passing by to get to the entrace.

"Are we sure this city isn't, like, radioactive?" Hal overhears one of them say. "That mushroom cloud was something else, man."

Alright, maybe he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and just let Bruce build whatever the hell he wants. 

The elevator ride to the penthouse takes ages, but once he passes security and the retina scanner, he's greeted by floor to ceiling windows, luxurious materials, and dark, modern decor. The view of the ocean alone must double the property value. Everything looks spotless and untouched, straight out of a catalogue. Hal feels out of place and trashy in comparision but tries to reassure himself this isn't any different from crashing at Carol's old penthouse, except hers was positively modest compared to the extravagance of this place.

He lets his duffel bag thud to the ground and sprawls out on the huge sofa with a satisfied sigh. 

He turns on the TV.

"—n today's episode," the show host on the screen says, "join us as we discuss whether the government should spend our tax dollars on a vanity project social media only refers to as Ghost City."

He turns off the TV.

Hal fishes out his phone from his pocket and types out a quick thank you note to Bruce, then rises to look for something to eat. He's halfway to the kitchen when his phone starts ringing. It's Bruce.

"Aren't you too busy for social calls?" Hal asks by way of greeting and sits back down.

"I make time," Bruce says. "I can't travel to Coast City for a few weeks so the penthouse is all yours. Don't trash the place."

"My villains have started crawling out of the woodwork so I can't make any promises."

"Do you need any help?" Bruce asks.

Hal is so surprised the phone almost slips from his hand.

"No," he says, perhaps a bit too fast. "John can be here at a moment's notice and you travel enough as it is."

"The Zeta tubes can get me there just as fast."

"The nearest operational Zeta tubes are in San Francisco."

Bruce hums into the phone.

"Wait," Hal says and sits up. "You aren't thinking about building fucking Zeta tubes in Coast City, are you?"

"It'd be easy to hide with all the development going on."

"Bruce, Coast City is just an oversized village at this point."

Bruce hums again, which could mean anything from 'I'll reconsider' to 'I do what I want.'

"Whatever, it's your money," Hal says.

"My investsments in Coast City are certainly playing into Brucie's airhead reputation."

A snarky retort is hovering on the tip of Hal's tongue but he has seen the things people say and he isn't the least bit surprised Bruce's involvement reflects negatively on him. 

Still, no one should speak ill of his city. It's his baby, flaws and all, and he would do anything to protect it. Zeta tubes may be a good idea to get the League in fast if things go sideways, even if the reason Bruce wants one is because he still doubts him. Hal is oddly hurt by the idea.

Hell, maybe Bruce's generosity isn't out of a sudden change of heart but to keep tabs on him. The penthouse could be bugged for all he knows.

Great, now it's his turn to be paranoid.

"Hal?"

"I'm fine," Hal says. "Drop by anytime."

He cuts the call and tosses his phone somewhere on the sofa where he doesn't have to look at it. He lets his head fall back against the cusions and stares at the pristine white ceiling, wondering if his friends will ever trust him again.