19474/Working Late at Ferris Air

Working Late at Ferris Air
Date of Scene:	10 November 2024
Location:	Carol's Office, Ferris Air, Metropolis
Synopsis:	Carol's pushing 24-hours-straight at work, and Hal arrives with a welcome distraction -- an unidentified signal and a promise of a few uninterrupted hours alone in the Interceptor.
Cast of Characters:	Carol Ferris, Hal Jordan

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Carol Ferris has posed:
It's late. Everyone has long since gone home except for the night-time security that patrol the grounds or watch the monitors of the multi-million dollar aerospace research complex. But Star Sapphire has been needed -- on New Themyscira and elsewhere -- and Carol Ferris's responsibilities have suffered for it.

As much as she would like nothing more than to use her ring to conjure up that violet light, to step out onto her office balcony and race up into the stars and let the power of their love guide her to Hal, she has... other responsibilities. Mundane responsibilities.

Documents to review and sign -- performance reports, contracts, security evaluations, safety evaluations, financial evaluations...

It's endless, and to some extent, it's mindless. She could delegate all of it, of course, but it's guilt that has her sitting in that chair at two in the morning. She hasn't been around, and she feels like she needs to do this... either to punish herself or to prove something. To who? Herself? The stockholders? The company has been doing well. There's no reason for her to be up this late...

She's still in the day's pencil skirt, blouse, and pumps. And her ring? That's stowed safely in the top drawer of her desk while she works diligently on her computer... hidden away specifically to help fend off the temptation to do what she really wants to do.

To go find Hal.

Hal Jordan has posed:
There is never exactly a shortage of things on the ToDo list of Hal Jordan and Carol Ferris.

That's just the nature of their lives.

In fairness there tend to be a few more things on Carol's plate of responsibilities then Hal's if only because she wears more hats. Or at least the more prominent ones. CEO. Queen of the Zamarons. Those are some pretty loft heights.

Not that Hal isn't important too in his role in the Corps. He has become respected, a prominent voice amongst the Green Lanterns to be sure. While each of the human Green Lanterns have done a fair bit to raise the status of humanity in the eyes of the galactic community, probably none have done more then Hal. He was the first afterall.

But he isn't looked to as the foremost of Green Lanterns. Salaak most often speaks for the Guardians. Kilowog is their strong right hand, training the next generation. Mogo, the planet that is also a Lantern is the most powerful amongst them, the guide that directs the rings of the fallen to their next bearer. And then there is Sinestro, the greatest among them.

Even his other titles are simpler. Easier to bear. Test pilot. Son. Uncle. All important in their own way. But not quite the burden of responsibility that the love of his life has to bear.

They have found a way to spend more time together as of late. It hasn't all been free of stress of course. Not with the troubles on New Themyscira. Not with Hal's conflict with the Guardians. And, of course, not with the looming threat of Galactus and his Heralds still troubling the world.

But they have been separated for several days now, drawn apart by their conflicting duties. And as Carol focuses on the work laid out before her on that desk, she might not even notice the emerald glow that begins to radiate in that window behind he. Not at first. But it swiftly grows as that streak of brilliant green energy nears until Hal floats there, just beyond that oh so thin barrier of glass that stands between them, grin on his face.

She doesn't need to seek him out.

This time, he has found her.

Carol Ferris has posed:
Click. Click. Highlight. Backspace...

...the fourth-quarters projections, based on third-quarter growth...

The glow of the monitor seems to shift, and Carol reaches up to rub bridge of her nose, blinking hard to clear her vision.

What time is it?

2:07AM, the little clock in her taskbar reads. She's been at work for almost twenty-four hours straight. The words are starting to run together, and her vision is...

She blinks again, looking away from her monitor to the desk. The ceiling. The wall. Hope explodes, unbidden, in her chest, and threatens to consume her. She finally swivels her chair towards her balcony, her eyes going wide, her smile unmistakably thrilled.

In the next instant, she's on her feet, heels clicking against the hard floor of her office as she clicks the balcony door unlocked and pulls it open, stepping out to come face-to-face with a man that possesses very nearly unfathomable power. A man that can create energy constructs of anything he can imagine with just the combined power of his will and his ring. A man who whose responsibility isn't 'limited' to the protecting the violet light of love, but who puts his life on the line every single day for his entire sector, fighting battles that would make lesser men shrink and cower and cry.

The Earth and the rest of the planets in his sector are safer because Hal Jordan -- the Green Lantern -- was willing to take on that responsibility.

And he is the love of Carol's life.

"I'm afraid the office doesn't open until eight," she manages, schooling her excitement even though everything about that smile suggests it's all she can do not to throw herself at him and simply trust him to catch her. Behind her, she leaves the balcony door open as she steps out onto it, her eyes cast up to the man that floats there, radiating that brilliant emerald aura.

It's a particularly vulnerable feeling, being awash in that glow without having her own power ring on, but it's so reminiscent of their first years together, back before Carol took up those additional responsibilities of her own.

Back when Hal first confessed to being the mysterious super-hero who saved her life -- the first time he saved her life, but far from the last.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Her dedication. Her sense of responsibility.

It isn't something that he has always admired admittedly, at least not outwardly. There was certainly a time when he was younger that he seemed to take great delight in pushing her towards irresponsibility. To see if he could coax her into lightening up a little, to see whether he could get her to ignore some of her duties.

Not exactly his proudest moments any more. Not something that he can look back on without a few regrets. Certainly it probably played a part in some of their troubles, some of the flare ups that set them walking down separate paths for a time instead of finding ways to making it work.

Fortunately he has grown a little since then. Those traits are no longer flaws in Hal's eyes. They are things to cherish. Things that make Carol as special as she is. He is a whole lot more accepting for that sense of responsibility these days -- possibly because it's one that he shares now.

Still, it isn't hard to see that she has been pushing herself. To see a little of that weariness that comes from going at something for hours upon hours without any sort of break. The little lines, the little shadows under her eyes.

She's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. The most beautiful woman he can imagine.

As he proves enough of a lure to pull her away from her desk, away from her charts and projections, Hal floats over towards that balcony too. Ferris might no longer be on the verge of going under like it has been so often in the recent past, but that hasn't changed her hands on approach in the least.

He's just going to make sure she doesn't push herself too hard.

As the lights down on the balcony with her, that emerald glow around him seems to intensify for just a moment, running over him like a ripple, a sheen and as it passes the green and black uniform of the Green Lantern Corp is washed away, leaving him in the equally familiar jeans and leather bomber jacket.

"Hi Pretty Lady," he says, that customary grin sliding over his face. "Hopefully you missed me as much as I missed you," he says lightly, arms already lifting towards her.

Carol Ferris has posed:
Hal's arms have barely lifted from his sides when Carol crashes into him, arms slipping under his jacket like it's the safest and warmest and best place in the entire galaxy -- a surprising amount of speed gathered in such a short distance, especially teetering on those heels.

But even with the extra few inches of height, she still buries her head against his shoulder, turning to nuzzle in against his neck, her nose brushing sensitive flesh -- his throat, his jaw. His scent is intoxicating, and even as she inhales him, her arms around him tighten like she might never, ever let go again.

"More," she answers, a smile in her voice.

There was a time in their lives that she would have believed that, too. A time when she used to sit behind her desk and lament his responsibilities even more than he lamented hers. But while he focused on trying to get her to lighten up and have fun, she let bitterness and frustration at the Green Lantern Corps tear them apart... more than once.

In fairness, back then, she had no concept of what he did when he was away. All she knew was that he would be gone for days, weeks, sometimes months with little warning. All she knew was that he seemed to prioritize everything else in his life above her, and waiting for him to make time for her was... heartbreaking.

Then came the Star Sapphire Gem and the consciousness inside it that twisted that bitterness and resentment into something more like hatred in its attempt to separate Carol from Hal for good so it could use her capacity for love for its own purposes.

But now she understands. Now they share some -- albeit small -- percentage of those responsibilities. And Hal has proven that the depth of his love for her matches her feelings for him time and time and time again. So perhaps she didn't actually miss him more. In fact, it's very likely they both felt a nearly identical ache of loneliness and separation, but knowing that isn't enough to stop Carol from playing it up.. just a little.

After a moment, her face lifts again to look up at him, that adoring smile still plastered on her lips.

"You came."

He always did, when he could, and it filled her heart to bursting every time.

Hal Jordan has posed:
They have different missions. That is inherent in the energy they represent. Violet and Green. Love and Will.

While the Guardians might have their representatives take more of an active hand in galactic affairs and keep them busy from that perspective, the Green Lantern Corps is over seventy-two hundred members strong. While that might seem a pittance when put against the immense size of the galaxy -- all thirty-six hundred sectors of space -- it is still vastly more sprawling then what the Star Sapphires boast.

So while Carol's focus might necessarily be narrower then Hal's, to focus and preserve the power of love versus a sort of galactic peacekeeper slash space cop, she has a lot fewer peers.

And unlike Hal who is at best, one of the most prominent members of the Corps amongst a host of similarly respected voices, she is her Corp's leader. The first of them.

Once those conflicting responsibilities might have got in their way. Once Hal might have felt challenged by her seriousness, felt like he had to somehow crack that shell. Once she might have resented that time apart, that time away. They've found a way to bridge those gaps now. They've found a sort of equilibrium, a sort of understanding. That while they may be parted for a time, they will always find their way back to one another.

More, both are a little more willing, a little more motivated to make the necessary choices to make room for one another. It's why they moved in together. So that they could make the most of every moment they do have free, every moment they can spend together.

Those arms enfold her gladly, gratefully, drawing her in against him in that warm embrace, burying his face in those dark strands of hair, feeling that silky softness teasing his cheek, his nose as he breathes in the scent that is hers and hers alone. Even if he wanted to -- which he most certainly does not -- it is doubtful that he could wipe that smile from his face and when he lifts his head once more, when his eyes seek out her own, one hand comes up to cradle her cheek in his palm.

"More or not, I definitely missed you," he admits freely, leaning in, claiming a kiss from her lips, letting it linger for just a moment before he straightens once more.

"I most certainly did. Sorry it took longer then I expected," he says quietly. "I'll always come back to you," he adds softly before the humor creeps back onto his expression, into his voice. "Though I see you found something to keep you busy," he says wryly. "You do know that you have an entire accounting department for that sort of thing. I mean, I assume that's what they're for. And finding ways to write off the planes that I crash," he adds slyly as those hands settle on her hips, just holding her close to him.

Carol Ferris has posed:
That kiss is returned gladly with a little lift through her toes, her smile vanishing just long enough to savor the feel of his lips against hers for as long as it lasts. And once it's over, she lifts the tip of her nose against the side of his lovingly.

"I know," she admits, her smile playfully rueful. "I'm just glad you're safe."

Which part does she know? All of it, probably. That he missed her just as much as she missed him. That he would always come back to her -- as long as he was capable of it, anyway. And that she did, in fact, have a department dedicated to doing the work she was doing.

In fact, it was their work she was revising. Because of course no one knew how to represent her father's company -- her company, now -- better than her, right?

Or perhaps she just felt the need to do... something. The need to make her mark while she had time to.

"Are you suggesting that I'm becoming a workaholic?" she asks archly, very pleased to stay there, trapped under the heat of his hands even as her own arms remain securely tucked between his jacket and ribcage.

Hal Jordan has posed:
He is only too happy to have her here, like this. Her arms wrapped around him, burrowed in against him so that the fringe of the jacket envelops her sides, those arms that snake around him.

There is just enough of a chill in the air to make it especially welcome and Hal gives a pleased little sigh at having her back where she belongs. Back in his arms. That he is back where he belongs, here with her. There will be news to share of course, things to catch up on. Despite his teasing her is invested in the success of this company too.

Ferris has been his home since he was a kid. For as long as he can remember, with his father flying those jets, the test aircrafts and that tragic day that changed his life didn't break those bonds. It only made them stronger.

The fact that he is in love with Carol -- that he has been since they were nine years old probably -- might have a little something to do with that too admittedly.

"Would I do that?" he asks lightly, lips curving into that little grin once more, leaning in to brush them against her forehead, just seeking out that touch, the reminder of the feel of her pressed close, of her skin beneath his own.

Besides," he adds, that grin taking on a sort of lopsided caste, eyes glinting with mischief even in the dark. "Do you really think that I would ever let that happen? I can't keep you from working hard, I learned that a long time ago," he concedes. And the days of him wanting to are long in the past.

"But I can at least make sure you play just as hard," he points out with a grin and a playful wink before that smile softens. "And that you get some rest when you need it," he murmurs, dipping his head and nuzzling at the side of her neck. "Let me guess. You're at the tail-end of another sixteen hour day. Eighteen hour?" he asks.

They do know each other so well. Almost better then they know themselves at this point.

Carol Ferris has posed:
2:10AM says the clock on Carol's desk.

Her office is a sleek, modern space with sharp lines softened by personal touches: an old photo of her and her father, a model jet that Hal gave her years ago, and a single violet orchid perched on the corner of her desk. The air hums faintly with the sound of her computer, its glow the only illumination aside from the faint spill of moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Out on the balcony. there's a clear view of the Ferris Aircraft compound -- rows of hangars and runways lying silent beneath the stars. Behind her, papers are strewn across Carol's desk in neatly chaotic stacks, her blazer draped over the back of her chair.

Carol's eyes flutter closed as Hal nuzzles her neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. Her grip around him tightens reflexively, as if holding him here could make the world -- and all its endless responsibilities -- wait a little longer. She tilts her head, giving him better access, but her lips curl into a wry smile at his guess.

"Twenty-four," she admits softly, the guilt in her tone undercut by the teasing lilt she can't quite suppress. Her fingers smooth against the leather of his jacket, tracing the familiar seams as she continues. "Give or take a few minutes, if you're counting time spent staring at numbers until they stopped looking like numbers."

Her voice drops, just a little quieter, a little more serious. "But I needed to finish. There's so much riding on this next project, and it's not like I've been around much lately." She lets out a quiet sigh, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

For a moment, she studies him, her eyes softening. Her smile shifts -- still warm, but tinged with something a little more self-aware, a little more vulnerable. "I don't suppose you brought me an excuse to knock off early... or late, as it were?" she asks, her tone light but her meaning clear.

She doesn't say it, but it's written in every look, every touch. She needs this -- needs him -- to remind her why she works so hard, to help her believe that maybe, just maybe, she deserves to step away and breathe.

Hal Jordan has posed:
That dedication.

It's not that he can't match it of course. Hal has become incredibly dedicated to the Green Lantern Corps and to Carol herself. It just took him longer to find that sense of duty then it did for her.

Yes, he served in the military. He was good at it. And yes, he was certainly dedicated to following in his father's footsteps. But the level of committment to anything never really rose to anywhere close to her own. Not until a magical ring summoned him, carried him to a spacecraft, to a dying hero of an organization of alien space cops.

And charged him with doing better.

It was a first step, one that has continued to mature and grow. Until he doesn't feel anywhere near so out of place at her side. To where their respective senses of duty, of responsibility, no longer seem at odds with one another but instead complimentary in their own ways. To the point that they don't have to resent the time they miss with one another, but to be grateful of those shared moments that they do get to have.

Even if it just happens to be on a balcony overlooking an airfield in the darkest hours of the middle of the night.. It's special because they happen to be together.

LAcking that emerald glow surrounding him, it is even darker, the world almost eerily silent. In a few hours the air field will bustle with activity once more. There will be no shortage of people milling about, both in the office and in those hangars, out on the field.

But right now it is just the two of them, and Hal's arms tighten around her warmly, drawing her close to him as he makes a teasingly chiding sound, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "There are times that you are like a machine," he says with wry admiration, lips still playing along the side of her neck. "Though I'm very, very glad that you're not," he adds, a warm note coloring his words.

"Mostly I just missed you and wanted to see you," he says matter of factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Which, in fairness, it is in his mind. "But my ring did pick up an oddity on my last sensor sweep and I was thinking of taking the Interceptor out to check it out. If you wanted to come along, there would be at least a few hours of downtime on the way when you could get some sleep," he notes with a smile.

"But it's not so pressing that I can't just sweep you off your feet and tuck you into your own bed for a few hours of shut-eye."

Carol Ferris has posed:
Carol's grin spreads wider at his teasing, the corners of her lips curving with playful mischief. Her fingers tighten against the soft leather of his jacket as she presses herself closer, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad of that," she murmurs, her voice dropping to that warm, teasing register she knows he likes. "AI is replacing people everywhere these days. If I'm not careful, they'll replace me too, and then love really will be in danger."

But at the mention of an "oddity," something shifts. The languid warmth in her soft, bedroom eyes clears, her focus snapping back into place. Her head tilts, her brows arching as her smile dims -- not disappearing, but folding into something more curious, more deliberate.

"No, of course I'll go. I just need to get my ring," she says, her voice losing its dreaminess and gaining a touch of briskness. There's a beat, and then, "What kind of oddity?"

There's reluctance in the way she pulls back. As much as she hates to leave the circle of his arms, she manages to withdraw, her heels clicking against the hard floor as she moves back into the room. She doesn't look back -- at least, not immediately. She knows if she does, she might stop. She might let herself get lost in him all over again, in the way the rest of the world fades when he's this close.

She pulls open the top drawer, but there's a moment of hesitation before she reaches inside. Her fingers hover over the violet ring, brushing the cool metal. She's tired. It's been a long day already. It feels heavier than it should, or maybe that's just the weight of everything it stands for lingering in her mind. Still, her grip steadies as she picks it up and slides it onto her right hand, the brief glow catching and refracting against the sharp angles of her face.

When she glance back to Hal, the faintest smile is there again, tugging at the edges of her lips, but her eyes are sharp now. She closes her laptop and slips it into a tote that she hooks over an arm, then tucks her jacket between the handles. She won't need the extra warmth within the cocoon of her violet shield.

Carol Ferris. Part superhero. Part executive. All woman.

Or, something like that, anyway.

A few strides carry her over to the alarm system next to the door, which she arms. Then she gestures back to the balcony so she can close it behind them.

"Where's the Interceptor?"

Hal Jordan has posed:
A part of Hal feels a little regretful that he brought it up at all.

Not because he didn't want her company of course. THere's nothing that he wants more. More because given the situation, he never had a doubt about what option she would chose. Yes, there will be time to catch a few hours of rest on the Interceptor, and yes, it is comfortable enough. But it is not hte same as their bed, in their home. And while there is no real reason to expect anything particularly dangerous or particularly taxing out amongst the stars, a full night's rest would do her good.

For a moment he considers retracting the suggestion, considers insisting that they go back to the apartment, that she take a little time to relax and unwind.

But just for a moment.

In some respects this is their curse. Her even more then him. That sense of responsibility. He knows it's out there, that anomaly, and hwile it might be nothing, given the somewhat precarious situation he hates to let it linger uninvestigated. It is one more potential source of trouble that they just don't need on their plate.

So he puts aside those better impulses and instead slides a familiar grin back onto his features, leaning back casually against the rail of the balcony, making a show of watching her as she goes to retrieve her ring and laptop. All woman indeed.

"A strange energy fluctuation. Probably nothing serious and well away from Earth, but I picked it up on the way back and the ring couldn't identify it. Which doesn't happen very often."

Say whay you will about the little blue trolls that he works for, but having had billions of years to catalogue the galaxy, their records tend to be pretty complete. It isn't often that he encounters something that the ring can't identify at all. Indeed, it is a big enough rarity that he feels the need to drag her out to the middle of nowhere to take a clsoer look.

An abundance of caution? Or an inkling that maybe -- just maybe -- not everything is what it seems.

As she sets that alarm and joins him out on the balcony once more, he straightens up from that somewhat indolent pose, flashing another smile her way. "It's just waiting for us in orbit. So it will take us about thirty seconds longer to get there then it would have taken to get back to the apartment," he says lightly.

Then Hal holds out a hand her way, that flickering emerald glow once more surrounding him. Like a smooth, seamless ripple that green glow spreads, the comfortable jeans and leather bomber jacket vanishing as he once more finds himself garbed in the uniform of the Green Lantern Corp.

"Shall we?"

Carol Ferris has posed:
Carol pauses at the balcony door, her gaze tracking the easy confidence in the way Hal leans against the railing. That grin of his -- so familiar, so infuriatingly charming -- pulls a soft laugh from her, low and under her breath. "A strange energy fluctuation," she repeats, her tone dry as she steps back outside. "Probably nothing serious. That's what you said before the time vortex incident. And the sentient meteor swarm."

Her laptop and tote rest against her hip, one hand adjusting the strap while the other brushes an errant strand of hair from her face. "You'd think the Guardians would have invested in an update for their little green encyclopedia after all these years," she adds, but there's no heat in it. Her smile, small and wry, tugs at the corner of her lips as she looks at him.

She hadn't missed the shift back into his Green Lantern uniform, and she lets her gaze flick over him, appreciating the contrast between the relaxed charm of his earlier look and the resolute energy of the man standing before her now.

As she steps toward him, a soft shimmer of violet energy begins to glow at her fingertips, moving like liquid light over her frame. By the time she reaches for his outstretched hand, her corporate attire is gone, replaced by the sleek, radiant uniform of the Star Sapphire Corps. The violet light intensifies for a moment, catching the metallic sheen of her emblem before it settles into a steady glow around her.

When their hands meet, there's a ripple of energy where they touch -- a swirl of emerald and violet light that intertwines, as if acknowledging the balance between them. The light doesn't divide, doesn't separate them. It blends, creating a single current of energy that pulses softly, uniting them in that moment.

"Thirty seconds, huh?" she muses, her voice lighter now, though her eyes hold a flicker of anticipation. "You make it sound like a vacation." Her grip tightens slightly in his, and she lets herself lean just a little closer.

Her smile grows, soft but sure, as she nods toward the sky.

"Let's go."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Okay, it probably isn't nothing.

By it's definition, it wouldn't have caught his attention if it was truly 'nothing'. There is always a chance that it is nothing very significant, but again, given their past experiences the chances of that being the case are fairly scant too. He does seem to have a fairly honed instinct for trouble and if his intuition is telling him that this is worth checking out -- worth it to the point of dragging her away from some well deserved rest -- there is the distinct possibility that this is something more significant..

"Neither of those were my fault," Hal protests mildly. Which is technically true. But he nonetheless dragged her out into the middle of them. He might not have caused them, might not have been responsible for them, but it might be fair he was very much responsible for her being right in the middle of them.

Her transformation sequence draws an appreciative look from him as well and as her hand reaches for his own, as they slip comfortably, familiarly into one another's grip there is that faint hum of those mingled auras joining.

He gives a little snort at the mention of updating the galactic database that is a part of all Green Lantern power rings. "Might be nice. But that would require them admitting that there might be something they don't already know. I guess after a couple of billion years I might get a little hidebound too," Hal concedes. "Though hopefully not to their level," he adds, a twinge of exasperation still very much coloring his words even now.

He knows that Ganthet has helped them, he knows that not every Guardian is incapable of acknowledging the possibility that there might be something they don't know, that there might be something they're just wrong about. But it happens so damn infrequently.

That is a problem for another time though and the grin slips back onto Hal's features. Her presence has that effect on him. "What? The Interceptor is pretty comfy and we'll have a few hours to kill. I can think of worse ways to pass the time with you, all alone in the depths of space," he says with a wink.

The his hand tightens on her own and he launches himself heavenward at her side, a streak of green and violet starting to extend through the night sky as they race towards the waiting ship overhead in orbit.