When the Hawks Cry
Summary: I liked Michael Shanks's performance as Hawkman so I have decided to try my hand at a different kind of story for Smallville that has nothing to do with Jonathan Kent. The basic rundown is what happens after "Absolute Justice" when Carter is looking for all the members of the JSA. Also this brings in the new Hawkgirl. Please review and tell me if you like it.
Carter Hall stooped on the concrete, his eyes on his daughter, Lydia. Lydia was only a year old and was straining her chubby arms out to him. Lydia had rarely left his side since her mother had died a few months ago.
Well, then again she had always clung to him more than her mother. Only Carter could get the girl to sleep. He would take her in his arms and fly with her while he hummed softly. She would then curl up into his chest and fall asleep with her thumb in her small mouth. And the first smile had been only for him. Now he would never put her to sleep or have her smile at him again.
A sharp cry came out of Lydia's mouth as her blue eyes sought his. "Please, let me hold her. I can calm her down," Carter begged. Maybe Lydia might stop crying and fall asleep if she felt safe in her father's arms.
The policeman who held his daughter chuckled cruelly. "I don't think so, Mr. Hall. You're never going to see this little girl again," the man said as he put her in the car seat taken out of the brownstone that Carter and Shayera ran as a museum.
"You have no right. She's my daughter," Carter said, faintly hearing Lydia's screams rise in crescendos that a normal person couldn't ever match.
Carter watched in helpless despair as the car holding his daughter drove away. It wasn't fair. His wife had died. Did he have to lose the only piece he had left of her? No! He wasn't going to lose Lydia. Whatever happened he would find her and take her back.
Carter Hall was rubbing his eyes tiredly. It had been hard work to fight "The Icicle." It wasn't like it was 12 years ago when he had the strength of a 20-year-old man.
That cocky idiot, Oliver Queen, made him feel even older with his jibes. Okay, the kid had what it took to be a good superhero, but Carter was willing to bet his stolen daughter, Lydia, had more sense and she was only 13 years old.
Talking about his wife to Oliver Queen and Clark Kent had been sobering enough, but thinking about Lydia was still heartbreaking. Carter had tried to get her back when she was two, but they had changed her name and all of the adoption agencies in Metropolis had locked all files pertaining to a little girl named Lydia Hall.
Carter looked up as the Martian detective John Jon'es came in. Carter liked John. At first it had been hard to see the policeman as an alien, but the man was strong and tough.
"You all right, Carter?" John asked a kind look in his dark eyes.
"I'm fine. I'm just thinking of the ones I love," Carter admitted as John sat down at the marble JSA table.
"Your wife? I think of my wife and daughter every day. It's hard sometimes to be the last survivor of a dead planet," John said in a consoling voice.
"I'm not the last survivor. Lydia, my daughter, is still out there. I have to find her," Carter said, scrubbing his bearded face with a hand.
"When was the last time you saw her?" John asked.
"12 years ago. Her mother had died and the government took her because I wouldn't unmask. She was only 1 years old. I tried to find her, but they changed her name and all the files were locked," Carter said his voice full of unshed tears.
"I'll help you find her. No man should lose his child. I should know," John said with a smile that was faint.
"Thank you. You will bring her to me when you find her?" Carter asked nervously.
"Yes. The way it sounds your daughter was taken against her- and your-wills. Also you don't strike me as a bad father," John said.
"I tried to be a good father. I never harmed her and I tried to keep her safe. They said that my not helping the government when they discovered my identity cost me my daughter," Carter said.
"Sounds like blackmail. The adoption even sounds illegal. So I can ask Chloe to go into the adoption records. We can start there and see what happens. Like you said, they changed her name when they took her so you'd never find her," John said, standing up.
"Probably. I looked at names and "Lydia Hall" wasn't among them," Carter said.
"So your daughter was adopted in Metropolis, right?" John asked.
"I think so. I was living here when she was taken," Carter said as John pulled out a phone book.
John turned to a page and then flipped a page. "Well, there's a page and a half of agencies. All of us could start calling and see which ones were running back then and look through the files of baby girls. Chances are she might be in the foster care system," John said.
"I thought of that. Also there's another problem. She's going to feel like she wants to fly soon. Shayera was 13 or 14 when she learned how to fly. I have to be there to help her when she does fly," Carter said as John tore out the pages.
"Don't worry, Carter. We'll find her. I'll get a search warrant and say it's for a kidnapped baby," John assured him as he wrote down 20 phone numbers and handed them to Carter.
"What's this for?" Carter asked.
"Start calling these numbers and check the ones that have been open since your daughter's adoption. I'll split the rest between me, Clark, Chloe, and Oliver," John said as he left the brownstone.
Carter took a breath as he picked up his telephone. He only hoped he found her and that Oliver took this seriously. The two weren't friends, but the kid had a good heart. He meant well, even though he was a loose cannon.
Lyanna Edmonson had just been kicked out of another foster home. She had been in the foster care system since she was one and had never stayed longer than six months in one home since she was five years old.
Lyanna wasn't a bad kid. Her quiet nature was just one of those things that unnerved people. She would fix her eyes on someone in reproach and they'd get upset and say she was uppity as the Queen of Sheba.
This time, however, was not her fault. Someone had slipped through the cracks and had beaten Lyanna and the other two foster children who lived in his house. It had only been found out when the man hit Lyanna so hard she had to go to the hospital. The school nurse had gotten suspicious when she noticed Lyanna was limping and wincing from a blow to the knee.
Lyanna gripped her ratty backpack and pushed her long hair back. "You ready?" Lyanna's social worker asked with a kind smile. The social worker was usually upset about how many homes Lyanna got kicked out of, but this time was different.
Probably because Lyanna was still limping, the woman was being kinder to her. "I guess. Did you check this one out?" Lyanna asked wearily as if she were jaded with all the foster care homes she had been to.
"Of course. You do realize that I never meant for you to be hurt? It was an accident," the social worker said, touching Lyanna's slightly crooked kneecap.
"I know, but just do it right this time. I could die with an accident like the last one," Lyanna said bleakly.
"I'm positive that this one will be just fine. If it's not I'm sure we'll find another one. Remember to call me if the foster parent mistreats you the first time. I'll also go by the middle school and drop off your transcripts. You are transferring in the middle of the year," the social worker said, stopping the car in front of a nice red brick house.
"Will they be able to duplicate my schedule?" Lyanna asked.
"Yes. You have been to this school. You went there for your 6th grade year," the social worker said.
"I remember now. I was in two foster homes that were a block or two apart," Lyanna said as she opened the car door.
They went up the sidewalk and the social worker knocked on the door. A woman with a smile answered the door. She looked like a combination between a grandmother and the Beaver's mother or the mom on "Happy Days."
"Mrs. Thomas, I'm Leona Jones and this is Lyanna Edmonson. You got a call from Social Services two days ago about Lyanna," Miss Jones said, pushing Lyanna forward.
Hello, dear. Welcome to my home. My, aren't you pretty!" Mrs. Thomas gushed as she hugged Lyanna tightly as if they were related.
"Thank you, I think," Lyanna said, surprised at the warmth. No one had ever been this kind to her.
"I'll check on you next week, Lyanna. Take good care of her, Mrs. Thomas. She's one of the harder ones to place in the system and the last foster home she was in wasn't a great experience. Also take her to the doctor. Her kneecap was nearly shattered and the doctor wants to see her once or twice a week," Miss Jones said.
"Of course. Now come on in, Lyanna. Your room is all ready for you," Mrs. Thomas said, taking Lyanna's backpack and hand after closing the door.
Lyanna followed the woman upstairs and into a cheery yellow room. "This looks nice," Lyanna said, looking around and noticing a skylight in the roof. It made the room look brighter.
"This was my daughter's room. She died in a car accident when she was 15," Mrs. Thomas said with tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Lyanna said, feeling a warm spot for the short, dumpy woman.
"Thank you. Now why don't you get cleaned up and then come downstairs for tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches? You look a little too thin," Mrs. Thomas said as Lyanna pulled a clean pair of jeans and a plaid flannel shirt out of her backpack and the woman left the room.
Lyanna looked at herself in the mirror as she cleaned up and combed her light brown hair. She often wondered who her parents were when she looked at herself in the mirror. From her adoption files her mother had died when she was a baby and her father had been arrested for going against the government.
She wondered if her parents had ever loved her. Her father especially. What kind of man got himself arrested when he had a baby to take care of? Lyanna felt torn. While she was a little angry with him she loved him and she hoped and prayed, like she was taught at church, that she'd find him or find a loving home.
Maybe here it'd be different. This lady seemed really nice to her. Maybe this woman would be the mother she couldn't remember