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Set in the Justice Lords universe, where Dove has been killed for resisting the Lords, and Hawk is left alone.

Hawk rocked the small body in his arms, tears streaming down his face, numbness taking over his body as he whimpered helplessly at the murder he never saw coming. Don's pale eyes were closed, his forehead holding two small holes where The Man of Steel had burned away the little Dove's life. Dead. They hadn't lobotomized the heroes, they'd killed them. Superman had flown off, having more important things to deal with.

Hawk was alone. But he shouldn't be. He wasn't because any time now Don was going to open his eyes and smile, and tell Hank that everything was alright, that it was going to be fine, and Hank would be angry and relieved and happy except that he wasn't because Don wasn't waking up, but he had to wake up, didn't anyone understand he had too!

Hank began to choke on his sobs, body racking with their force, Don's limp body offering no resistance to the heaves. Hank twined his fingers in Don's hair, the boy had returned to human form after… after…

How could this happen? They were supposed to be friends, allies.

Justice Lords… This wasn't justice. Anything that left a pacifist dead, one that hadn't even reached adulthood yet wasn't justice. He'd almost been an adult. 17. So close… he would never grow up now. Never be married; have a family. Never have kids never…

NO! He couldn't think like this! A part of him needed for Don to remain the pacifist, the unfair victim, because he couldn't be the little brother, couldn't be the center of Hank's universe, the one he loved and needed so much. He couldn't be because… Hank needed him. Needed him so badly, but the walls were coming down, and he couldn't fight it any more.

Don was dead. Hank saw Don's gentle face, smeared through his tears, and the shock crumbled into agony. Nothing could hurt like this. Nothing. Don… he hadn't done anything wrong. Just fought for what he believed in, for the cause the League had used to believe in. Don's broken body sagged, and when Hank buried his face in Don's chest; no comforting fingers rose to comfort him.

Hank couldn't bear the pain. Don had always been there, always. He was the only one who really understood Hank, who really understood his insecurities, his feelings and thoughts. Don had always accepted him, always loved him, and now… now he was gone.

Gone. The word hammered into Hank's consciousness, burning at him, almost physically hurting him. Burning him. Don was cold. Hank hated cold. Being Hawk was warm. Hot, even. Burning passion, burning fury. Dove had been as cool as a gentle breeze. He was colder than that now.

Hawk clutched Don tightly, feeling something build up inside him. He trembled as it reached it's climax, and then, throwing his head back, he screamed. Howled out all his pain and fury, howled his pain and rage. The chaos in him had never been stronger; there was no Dove to hold him back. No Dove… no Don… no brother… shaking with fury, he felt something snap inside him as Don laid in his arms.

Growling, he hunched over, feeling his muscles expand, and his hands… panting hard he looked at his hands. Claws. Perfect. Perfect for destroying them. The Lords. He was pure chaos now. Nothing could stop him. Nothing could keep him from avenging his brother. There was nothing human left in him. And yet… when he looked at Don, the pain, the consuming stabbing pain still shot to his heart. Gently he bent over and pressed a gentle kiss to Don's forehead. Tenderly he hid the body; the Lords wouldn't have that either. Then he straightened, and fire burned in his eyes. He wasn't hot now, he was burning. And all the Lords would burn too.

He would make sure of it.