This just something I thought of one night. I don't really think I'll continue it, but who knows….inspiration works in mysterious ways……

I couldn't believe what I saw laid out before me. She was like a slab of meat on a butcher's block. The medical examiner had placed a crisp white sheet over her body but the likeliness still lingered in my mind. Hours before I had come here, my friends had reminded me that I didn't have to do this. But I wanted to, it was the least I could do for this poor soul that I had never met. Bruce came with me, after all it was his city and secretly I think he felt that I needed some form of support.

He had called me yesterday and relayed the story to me and what I had been requested to do. There had been a brutal murder in Gotham, but it was the victim that had gotten me involved.

On July 18, 2006 at preciously 1:00 am, a female Thanagarian was found in a warehouse in Gotham city. She was found with a stake rammed through her heart and multiple stab wounds to various parts of her body. Her wings had also been cut off and possibly kept by her attacker as a trophy. There were also signs of torture; she had died a slow and painful death. And spray painted on the wall where she was found were the words, "Die Filthy Hawk".

And I had been called to come and identify the body. I didn't know most of the members of the Thanagarian armada. There had been so many new recruits since I had left home. But I was their best shot in identifying their Jane Doe. I couldn't imagine how or why the army would have left her behind. There had been rumors of some captured Thanagarians. But these had been dismissed as untrue, until now. But the thought of seeing one of my people having endured so much horror almost made me refuse the offer. But I figured that I owed it to her, to try and give her the final peace of having a name once again. But as I stood outside that room looking at the covered body I couldn't help but freeze. I had thought that the hatred of my kind and I had subsided a little in the recent year. But I had been proven wrong and the idea of the people of earth still harboring this much hatred to perform such a deed scared me.

"Shayera, you ready?" Batman asked softly snapping me from my thoughts.

"Yes" my brain said but my heart disagreed.

Despite the growing feeling of dread I found myself standing beside the table. I nodded to the examiner and the sheet was pulled down enough to reveal the face of a Thanagarian woman. I looked at her face; she had soft features almost unusual for my kind. More commonly we had sharp faces like that of a hawk. She was beautiful, long flowing dark hair and large kind shaped eyes. Though she was pretty I could picture a soldier's glare on her face. This wasn't just a stowaway one of the men had smuggled on to the ship out of loneliness. Cautiously, I asked if I could see her arm. I felt the strange sense to need to ask permission of the examiner. I didn't want to touch her; it had been so long since I had seen one of my own dead or alive. The simple action struck me as disrespect if I had done so without asking. And though she was dead I, didn't wish to offend her. Although I had no idea how I could, after all she was gone but I remembered Grundy speaking of a soul. I had no faith, I don't understand how someone can believe in something they can't see or hear. And yet based on how I was feeling around this deceased being, maybe I did have some belief after all. Respect for her still living soul made me respect her unliving shell.

Sensing my hesitation and discomfort, the examiner removed the girl's arm from beneath the sheet. When I caught site of the Thanagarian military sign tattooed on her tricep my thoughts were confirmed she was a solider. My eyes traveled back to her face, I wanted so badly to just spit out a name and have the comfort of knowing she wouldn't be put to rest as a Jane Doe. But no one in my memories had her face, I didn't know her. Both Bruce and the examiner looked to me for an answer; I shook my head sadly in reply. The examiner gave me a sympathetic smile and started to pull the sheet back over her face. I asked softly if, she could leave her face uncovered for a few more minutes. She nodded and both she and Bruce left me to my thoughts. My eyes were drawn to the absence of her wings. Nothing but dried bloody stumps protruded from her back. It angered me, one of the worst things that could be done to one of my kind. Depriving her of something that was a cause of great pride, power and strength was truly cruel. It was like the ultimate way to break a Thanagarian. It showed that you were nothing, a disgrace and also causes a feeling of helplessness. I had a feeling that her attacker de winged her before finishing her off.

It was then that a revelation passed over me, I was just as guilty as whoever did this to her. I caused the hate of my kind through my betrayal of the earth. I was the reason for their hate and the reason for the attack on this woman.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen to you." I stammered as I fought back sobs.

I had to control myself the staff would really think I was crazy, crying over a person I didn't even know.

"I don't even know your name." I said softly.

With one last look at her lifeless form, I turned away from her and met Bruce in the hallway.

"You okay?" he asked on the ride back to the Watchtower.

"Fine" I lied, hoping I was convincing.

"It's not your fault you know."

I looked at him, not at all surprised that he had read my thoughts. Batman had that affect on people.

"I didn't hold the weapon, but I gave the motivation." I answered.

He turned to give me a stern look, "Shayera, what happened to that woman was a tragedy. It had nothing to do with you, had you not returned to the League she would have still died. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it."

I nodded, but the feeling that I was still somehow responsible never fully left my mind.

The rest of the day at the Watchtower I lost track of how many people asked if I was ok. I smiled and reassured them that I was fine. John didn't say anything to me but gave me a sympathetic smile from across the room. I went through the day with a feeling of unrest about the woman lying on that cold slab, without a name. Such feelings brought me to Diana. I had talked to her before about faith a lot after Grundy's death that fateful day. She listened thoughtfully her eyes full of understanding as I told her my feelings.

"I just wish I had some closure to give her." I explained.

"It sounds like you want closure for not only her but yourself as well." She replied.

I was silent; Diana took this as a sign to continue.

"Then give her closure, give her a name."

I looked up at her surprised at her answer, "What do mean? I can't just rename her."

"Shayera, no one will ever know her original name. But you can give her a name so she doesn't have to be buried without one. It would give her soul peace and yours as well."

"Diana, what do you do….to honor the dead?" I asked hesitantly.

She smiled, "I ask the gods to make their journey to the afterlife peaceful and safe."

Later that night when I was alone in my room I thought of all the names that I could remember from my language. I wanted to give her a special name, something with meaning. Nothing seemed to fit, all of the names often had to do with family, meaning first daughter or mother's daughter. Suddenly one word popped into my mind, Imani meaning "faith" in my language. I whispered it softly to see how it felt when spoken. The word fit the face I had seen earlier. With this now decided I made a note to call the morgue and ask if she could be buried with the name. I walked over to my window and kneeled. I had seen John pray a few times, and though I wasn't sure who I was praying to or even if I was in fact praying I tried. I asked that Imani's soul be at peace and for whoever killed her to be brought to justice. It was strange I had thought that I would feel stupid, not knowing who I was talking to. But instead a strange sense of peace came over me. Maybe, I had more faith than I thought.

Well…..what do you think? Let me know! Loved it? Hated it? Tell all.