* * * * *

Of the following week, I remember very little. Leslie says that's for the best. They had to tie my arms to the bed, because whenever I got them free, I tore at the bandages, scratched my skin, and tried to reopen the closed wounds.

All that work to keep my secret, but now Leslie knew and the others guessed. Batman might have many scars, but no one with half a brain could miss the rows of scars I'd accumulated. I know J'onn spoke to everyone, although they've never revealed what he said.

Apparently J'onn arrived as Batgirl and Spoiler made it to the scene of the explosion; he transported us both to the clinic, and never left. He took charge of the situation, Leslie tells me, like the leader he is, making all kinds of arrangements and acting as everyone's confidante. He told the JLA he was on extended personal leave and had Nightwing make my excuses while I was unconscious. It says something about the JLA (and me) that nobody then or since has questioned those excuses.

Waking up was difficult, as much of my mind found unconsciousness more congenial than facing what had happened. But I could only avoid it for so long.

Years of habit left my eyes closed while my other senses tried to figure out the situation, and years of injuries meant that I recognized the sounds and smells and textures of Leslie's clinic almost immediately. Then there was the almost-tangible presence of J'onn. My eyes flew open as everything came back to me.

"J'onn. Tim...how is Tim?" I pulled at the straps restraining my arms.

J'onn was hovering by the window, but came to free my arms. "He is well. His injuries healed much faster than yours, probably because he is younger and his system was under less strain."

I closed my eyes, fought back tears.

"His greatest fear is that you will forbid him from acting as Robin. As you did to Dick."

A few tears leaked out despite my best efforts. I couldn't deny my first thought had been just that--protect Tim by pushing him away. In this case, there was even more justification, since I hadn't considered his safety as I led him into a trap. Hell, when was the last time I *had* considered his safety?

"He also said you would blame yourself," J'onn said. "Although he is not yet aware of the...full extent of the problem, he is a very perceptive young man."

That got my attention. "What...how much...do they know?"

J'onn's form rippled, which I recognized as uneasiness. "They know enough for the moment. They've known something was wrong for months, although the secrecy and stubbornness you seem to breed in your associates prevented them from confronting you."

His words hit like a steamroller. "They've known..."

"Yes, Bruce. They've been covering for you, cleaning up things you left undone."

I wanted to call him a liar.

"Problems they would ordinarily have brought to you, they've solved on their own. Dick has been putting in extra hours to help Tim. Cassandra is even showing some signs of the strain."

"My god. How could I not see?"

J'onn pushed on. "They were uncertain what was wrong, but their instinct was to protect you."

My lips moved, but I didn't even know what I could say. How many ways had I failed them?

"Tim does not blame you for his injuries," J'onn said as I tried to calm my reeling brain.

"He should." He knew it was a trap. Even if I had decided to go in, I should have made him wait outside, but I was so wrapped up in myself, it didn't even occur to me. I could have gotten him killed, I nearly did.

"You made a mistake."

"I don't get to make mistakes."

J'onn sank into the chair beside my bed, angling it to face me. "Perhaps that is where your problems begin."

I turned my head away and tried not to listen, helped out by a pounding headache.

"I had hoped that I could reach you, help you, before anyone else was hurt," J'onn said. "If there is blame to be placed, you may as easily place it on me."

"I put Tim in danger."

"Tim chose to follow you."

"We shouldn't have been there at all."

"Perhaps. But the fact remains that I knew there might be a problem, yet I did not take action."

I closed my eyes, despairing. What would I do now? What was there for me other than Batman?

"Bruce?"

Ignoring him, I felt the urge. My fingers twitched. Without a knife, I wanted to scratch.

"Bruce!" J'onn grabbed my arms and pinned them to the bed. I was so weak, I couldn't break his hold or use any of the thousand martial arts moves I knew for such situations. "Bruce, listen to me." His voice echoed through the roaring in my head. "You can survive this, but you must want to. You must want to stop hurting yourself."

How could I? I'd stopped before, but that wasn't through any effort of my own.

"You can. You will. Focus."

There was pain and memory and guilt. The screams of everyone who'd died while I was busy elsewhere.

"Focus!" J'onn sounded desperate, he sounded afraid. Afraid for me? "Focus on my voice. Let me all the way into your mind."

No! No, I couldn't let him see--

"There is nothing in your mind that can shock me. Please let me help you. Trust me."

And I did. I had trusted J'onn for years, from the earliest incarnation of the Justice League up through the present. For once, those years of habit worked in my favor, and I let him in, his mental presence a familiar beacon in the blizzard of my brain.

Images flashed by, almost too fast to see, a catalogue of failures, lives lost. Jason called my name, my parents died for the thousandth time, the Joker laughed as he gassed a roomful of innocent people. I saw Dick's angry face as he left the mansion, every woman I'd treated shabbily in the guise of the playboy, countless anonymous victims I couldn't save from Ra's and Bane and the Riddler and Ivy...

J'onn's hand was on my shoulder, keeping me from being drawn into the maelstrom. "This is what haunts you," he said, "and you will have to face these things and defeat them. But not today."

He stood before me, and stretched out his arms. I could see light streaming from him, filling the space between me and the memories, pushing everything else back. The pain receded and I could feel my body gasping for breath.

"This is only temporary," he said. "But it will hold for the moment."

When my eyes opened again, I felt as if I'd gone weeks without sleep. J'onn stepped back, looking weary. "Rest," he said. "There will be time to talk later."

My eyes slipped closed, my last thought a fervent wish for dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

The next time I awoke, the sun was down and the only light in the room came from a bedside lamp. It glowed on the features of Cassandra, who was curled up in the chair, peering at a book.

She looked up at me and nodded. I didn't know what to say, so I took my usual tactic of saying nothing. She studied me, hopped off the chair, and disappeared out the door. I closed my eyes again, only opening them at the sound of footsteps.

J'onn strode in, disguised as John Jones, and shut the door behind him before shifting to his more familiar form. "Cassandra said you were awake and looking much better."

"Did she?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, she said 'Better.' The rest was tone."

"Ha." I felt drained, empty, as my head dropped back against the pillow.

"Bruce? We must speak of this."

I stared at the ceiling, counting cracks. "What is there to say?"

"I thought we might talk of your recovery."

I looked at J'onn, then turned to stare at the dark window that reflected back the lamplight and my gaunt face. "Recovery. That's funny. Do you know how I dealt with the Joker, the Scarecrow, and the other Arkham inmates all these years?"

I heard the scraping of the chair. "How?" J'onn asked.

"By believing there was one fundamental difference between them and me: They were crazy and I was sane. Now even that's gone."

"You're not insane."

I didn't answer, just looked at my arms. It felt strange to see them bare, to know that anyone who walked in could see them. I resisted the urge to pull up the thin blanket.

"You're not insane," he said again.

"Then what am I?"

"Human, Bruce, very human. We forget that, but you are a human being who has seen too much and needs help."

I shook my head.

"There is no shame in needing help. You are not the first person to make mistakes. Nor are you the first to be too stubborn to ask for help. But you are my friend and I will help you anyway."

"How?" It was a challenge, not a question.

"As I said before--you will face the memories that haunt you. Your actions are a side effect of the emotional trauma."

Snorting, I crossed my arms, refusing to wince at the pull on my healing chest and back. "Psychoanalysis? I'd have expected better from you than 'Tell me about your mother.'"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not the one who thinks my problems can be solved by lying on a couch and describing my dreams."

"Bruce, I can only help you if you listen."

I swallowed, feeling trapped between two unappealing options.

J'onn watched me struggle for a long moment. "Why do you injure yourself?"

My mouth opened, but no sound emerged. My brain felt sluggish. "I...I have to, to be certain I don't hurt others."

"How might you hurt others?"

"Losing control. When I lose control, things happen. People get hurt."

"That is true."

"What?" I'd expected a denial.

"It's true that if you lost control, people would get hurt. But that doesn't happen."

"Because I keep it from happening by doing this!" I held out my arms, voice thick with anger at his obtuseness.

Staring into my eyes, J'onn didn't look at my arms. "No. Because you are too strong. Batman does not kill. You've held to that through circumstances that might have driven any of us past the point of control. You may be using this as a crutch now, but you are capable of taking that strain on your own. You have. And you will again."

I shook my head, made speechless by the faith in those words.

"I know you, Bruce. You feared what I would see in your mind would make me hate you. What I saw was what I expected to see: a man pushed beyond human endurance. Or Martian endurance, for that matter. You blame yourself for things you tried to stop, things you couldn't have stopped."

"I have to stop them. It's my responsibility."

J'onn ignored that. "Shall we begin?"

"Now?" My stomach curled into a knot.

"I see no advantage to you in waiting. This will be a long process."

"I..."

J'onn placed his hand on my forehead and we fell into my mind.

--continued in part 4--