a Justice League story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2004
PG
DC/Warner Bros. own the characters and situations. Spoilers for "A Better World." Note: I have never written second person POV before; this is a learning experience as much as anything.
Everything begins somewhere, but you're not sure when everything began for you. Was it when they returned from the White House, blood on their hands? Was it earlier, when the ray changed what you'd thought of as the universe from a tiny winged world to a galaxy of shapes and shades and sizes? Even further back, in the childhood you'd rather not remember at all, or with your parents? Before that?You're not sure of beginnings, and you don't trust other people when they talk about their so-called origins. You've heard that one pebble starts an avalanche, but you're certain the rest of the pebbles and boulders must also have rolled exactly in the right place. You're proud of this belief.
You don't remember how things began with John, if you made the first move, if he did. You don't try. You hold onto what you have right now, in this moment, these sensations. Besides, it's not good to remember much. That might lead you to compare Now with Then.
In the Now, there is order and peace (but Then there was the flight and the hunt and the power humming through you as you attacked). No one needs food (but they hunger), no one needs shelter (but they fear). You, all of you, have given this paradise to the people of this world. You give them structure. You free them from the consequences of their bad decisions by taking away those decisions. Every day, you monitor their well-being from high above them. You keep them safe. And many of them worship you for it.
When you glide above the streets and your shadow passes across their faces, you see fear, and you see respect, and a little relief. There are protests, people waving hand-made signs, demanding their privileges back (but they call them "rights") --- those are the minority: students, out-of-work politicians, troublemakers. The rest don't love you, but you don't need their love, just their obedience to the rules, and you and your friends write the rules (but you don't use the word "friends," at least not in your thoughts, not since Flash died).
Superman wrote the First Rule: we protect (but you wore a badge once, and that wasn't the only promise, and you can't allow yourself to think like this where J'onn can hear and take note and report back to the rest).
There is a celebration to mark the anniversary of the First Rule, the anniversary of President Luthor's death. There is a parade. You wave as people cheer. School children dutifully send you letters thanking you for freeing their home world. Most students choose only one of the Lords to write to; yours tend to come from little girls. You stopped keeping the letters after you noticed they all had the same phrases, dictated by nervous teachers. No one wants to attract the attention of the Justice Lords, not even secondhand. Some of the little girls write that they want to grow up to be like you. In your waking hours, you can believe that's a positive thing.
But you have to sleep sometime.
During love, you glow like a star. You're sure the others hear and see and know; surveillance is a lifestyle here in the Watchtower, even on one another. In the languid moments following, you can believe this is happiness.
You sleep. You dream.
In your dreams, you remember. You remember each rule passed after that first one. Protecting meant going after acknowledged threats. You and the others rounded up all known terrorists and incarcerated them, and the world hailed you as heroes. You set traps for the criminals, for Joker, Shade, Grodd and the rest, and you locked them away, and the world applauded again. But Joker escaped, and Flash died, and while Superman refused to kill again, he found a new way to prevent their enemies from hurting anyone else. He freed them from their own violent behavior. He saved them, every maniac, every criminal. He called this the better way, said that protecting meant preventing criminals from committing more crimes, and you chose to believe him. You all did.
If there was a beginning with John, it was then. You were already his touchstone, and he yours. You could go to one another, find where the line was, and say "Here. This is where we stand." After Joker, after seeing the ghastly sane look on his face as Superman walked him to his new home, you both needed someone to tell you this was right. You convinced him, he convinced you, eventually.
The Daily Planet ran an unflattering editorial about your methods. Superman politely asked them to retract the piece, making it clear that they did not want him to ask impolitely.
When the known criminals were neutralized, more criminals appeared. This second wave lacked the charisma and madness of their predecessors, were easily caught, were also neutralized. And more appeared. J'onn performed a study, with eager help from half a dozen universities, and proved he could single out potential criminals by certain easily-defined personality traits. Protecting meant stopping threats before they began. You rounded up the potential criminals, put them under a careful and caring watch to work in programs that benefitted society. Anyone who began exhibiting criminal behavior was dealt with quickly and hygienically. The death penalty was abolished; you could believe this was the best and most compassionate alternative.
You'd found the line, and you could stay there, and John agreed, and that made it right.
You began enforcing the laws as they already existed, and there was only one punishment for littering or murder. You yourself suggested the One Strike Rule as a deterrent. The crime rate, already at a historic low, dropped to almost zero. The few new criminals were arrested quickly, sometimes before they could begin thinking about committing a crime. You were reminded of home.
The Planet ran another editorial. To his credit, Superman did allow the entire staff to exit the building before he destroyed it. You were surprised when he did not arrest the reporter who wrote the editorial, but instead moved her into a lavish penthouse apartment in Metropolis, then posted guards for her safety. The major newspapers learned what to print. Minor newspapers were turned into examples. Protecting meant encouraging people not to think the wrong sorts of thoughts, so they wouldn't be tempted into becoming criminals.
And now ...
The movie industry, never entirely stupid, churns out romantic comedies and action-epics one after another, but nothing political, almost nothing historical save films set in Earth's distant past. Textbooks have changed, as have novels, to reflect how happy everyone is to be living under the protection of the Justice Lords. No books have been banned or burned; people simply no longer want to be seen carrying copies of radical literature. Surveillance cameras are everywhere, keeping silent vigil.
You have made the citizens of the Earth safe, and if they need reminding, as people do from time to time, that they are being kept safe, well, it isn't hard to manufacture an incident to demonstrate why they need to continue being kept safe. A rogue meteor here, a bomb scare there, even now you're in the process of allowing certain well-monitored criminal elements to get to a point of almost endangering lives before you capture them in a suitably heroic fashion. It's all for the greater good.
And the people thank you for protecting them. And you appreciate their gratitude, and in your heart you despise them just a little for signing away the freedoms they used to treasure in exchange for a sterile safety, and you don't look into his eyes when you make love because you both know the line is far behind you and there's no going back. You wonder if part of him hates you, just as a small part of you hates him and hates yourself, but you don't dare ask.
It's safe to have such bitter thoughts in your dreams.
You're a light sleeper; when John turns from his side to his back and begins to snore softly, you waken. In your half-asleep state, you can still remember this world as it used to be, before people feared you (and you know it is fear), before anyone carrying a map or walking in the wrong place or talking suspiciously over the phone could be detained for questioning, before the end began. Soon, you will be entirely awake, and able to banish these notions before the telepath can call you out for your inappropriate thoughts, and you will have no idea why your eyes are always wet after you dream. You will curl against your lover as he sleeps, and in another moment, you will forget everything but that you must protect him, protect your comrades, protect your adopted home.
But right now, you remember.
You do.
The End