As always, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it really means a lot to me. I love hearing what you guys are thinking, good or bad, so don't be shy. Compliments, improvements, and gripes are all gold in my book. As it is, you have Faye Chua to thank for a few paragraphs of this chapter because she found a plothole. --waves at Faye--

And you guys should all sacrifice your first born to my awesome beta reader, Neptune47. She had her beta in my mailbox within hours of me sending it just so you guys could get this chapter as soon as possible. She needs a standing ovation.

Don't forget to check my livejournal account for the extras on this chapter (www . livejournal . com/tools/memories.bml?userlaeladair&keywordExtras&filterall- no spaces). There are some author's notes, a few fun facts, and 2 deleted scenes for you guys.

Chapter 5

"What do you see when you look out there for so long?"

J'onn did not turn around at the voice, nor did he take his eyes from the stars. He had felt her coming.

"I'm not sure anymore."

Wonder Woman moved to stand next to him by the window. He wished she would go away. This was the second nightfall he had seen from his place in the Observatory, and he did not want to come out. Ever.

He could feel her. She was so close her thoughts were intertwining with his own, making it impossible to tell them apart. The others didn't know she was up here. They had agreed to leave J'onn alone until he was ready to come out. But Diana had already made an egregious trespass on privacy once. She saw no harm in doing it again.

"It must be different for you than for me...having lived out there, I mean."

The others were worried, as J'onn had been initially, that what had happened in the subway was an attack of some sort. Diana had gradually come to think otherwise. She had a remarkable perception for Truth that J'onn had never quite been able to explain. She was trying to offer herself as someone to speak to. He felt the trust and concern she held in him and became sick to his stomach.

It had taken a few hours for the shock of it all to wear off, but once it did J'onn realized the connections he shared with his teammates were drastically different from those he had once shared with his Martian family. Each mind was different. Flash and Green Lantern, both being human, were the easiest to read. Their minds spread themselves out before J'onn to reveal a complex web of conscious and subconscious thoughts meshing in a paradox of organized chaos. The layout was quite different from Wonder Woman and Superman, who did not allow such unhindered access. An aura of power seemed to protect the innermost recesses of their minds, allowing J'onn to feel their emotions and thoughts but not their subconscious. Hawkgirl was the only one who was almost entirely protected from him.

Her mind was the greatest enigma of all. J'onn wasn't sure if it was the helmet she was wearing or if it was due to a naturally high barrier of some sort, but he was barely able to access anything. He could only pick up the barest inkling of her thoughts by the emotions she projected. The shades took the form of a feint aura of color around her body since the psychic plane had no physical dimension. Out of everyone, J'onn found her presence to be the most heartening. He had never been more grateful for Hawgirl's stubborn will in his life.

"Diana...May I ask you something?"

The Amazon stopped what she had been saying. J'onn hadn't realized he had interrupted her, but he knew she didn't mind.

"Of course."

"This is a very different world from the one you are accustomed to...Do you ever find, living here, that you have a conflict of morals?"

Diana watched him for a moment, trying to guess why he would ask such a question. Her eyes then drifted down and out of focus. "Man's world is very different from Themescayra" she said slowly. "There are customs and rules here that have taken me a long time to get used to. Some of which I still fail to fathom." She turned her head away for the smallest of moments and J'onn felt a brief sense of shame coming from her. "Do you recall our fight with the Toyman? When we thought Superman was killed?"

"Yes."

"I remember...when I saw Superman engulfed in that enormous barrel of light—saw him evaporate before my eyes—Flash stopped me from killing the Toyman." Her expression grew puzzled. "He said, 'We don't do that to our enemies.' That's something I don't understand. On Themescayra, when one of our sisters is killed, her family is entitled to vengeance. It is our form of justice. But the "justice" practiced here where criminals are taken to the hospital in the very same ambulances as the policemen they shoot—that makes no sense to me. I used to be frustrated by it. Why couldn't anyone just...see? And then I realized that it was impossible. The people here didn't know what I did, just as I didn't know what they knew. Eventually, I decided that I couldn't look at this place in terms of my home. The two worlds just don't compare. They each must be viewed separately."

"Did you ever find peace with yourself?"

Diana smiled. "Let's just say, there would be a lot less criminals around if it wasn't for the rest of you." She frowned. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Her thoughts drifted through him, innocent of the fact that a parasite consciousness was feeding off their existence. "No" he said firmly. Then he softened. "But I do think I would like to keep you company on duty."

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The Batcave computer flickered vacantly in the darkness, briefly illuminating a figure in the seat before it. Alfred could see Bruce Wayne reclining in the chair, his right elbow propped on one of the armrests as he held a clenched fist to the top of his lip. The computer was working furiously on the screen but Master Bruce's eyes were not on the data. They had drifted down to the floor, blank and out of focus.

The loyal butler to the Wayne household paused for a moment in the shadows towards the entrance to the cave. He recognized that stance. It was one Master Bruce often assumed when deep in thought. He did not have to guess what was running through his charge's mind, much as he didn't have to guess why Master Bruce was still dressed in plainclothes. For another night in a row, the Batman would not be making an appearance in Gotham.

"I brought you some tea, Master Bruce."

Blue eyes moved briefly to the side, acknowledging the butler, but not looking at him. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred sighed inwardly and resigned himself to placing the tray in his hands on a nearby surface.

The tragedy had hit them all hard. The last few days of apprehension over Tim's health had been nothing compared to the weeks of torturous worry everyone in the family had been forced to endure. Master Bruce carried his burdens stubbornly and silently, as always, but Alfred could see the forces working inside of him: anger, guilt, and most of all, doubt. He had seen that look in his charge's eyes before. He had heard every thought now running through Bruce Wayne's mind at one time or another.

It was no secret that Alfred did not entirely approve of Batman's habits. He had seen the danger almost instantly—ever since that night so long ago when the police showed up at the door to Wayne Manor and he saw the look in young Master Bruce's eyes. He understood the reasons. He had tried his best to curb them. But ultimately the choice had not been his to make. There were times he wished he had the power to take the demons plaguing his surrogate son onto himself. But he had known all along that was something he could never do. So he did the next best thing and stuck by his charge through thick and thin, neither encouraging nor discouraging him to excess, merely walking at his side.

With this, though, he felt this was a place he could not journey to with Master Bruce. The people Batman interacted with every night were strangers to Alfred—individuals he knew by name and reputation, but not personally. He had never wished death upon anyone, but he had hoped that a world without the Joker in it would have been better. It seems, however, he was mistaken. Every candle left a ghost of light when it was extinguished.

"He meant well."

Bruce's fist tightened for a moment at Alfred's words. He did not have to specify who he was talking about. They had both heard the conversation in the car.

"I know."

"Do you think he was right?"

Bruce sighed. "I'm not sure. It seems I'm not sure of a lot of things, lately."

Alfred stepped forward and put a gentle hand on his charge's shoulder. "I would rather it that way. Uncertainty is what keeps us honest."

------------

Alfred's departing footsteps echoed hollowly around the Batcave. Bruce could still feel the place on his shoulder where the comforting hand had rested.

I hope you know what you're doing, for Tim's sake.

The words rung in his head for the thousandth time. Bruce was a confident man. He had made himself that way. As a person, as a businessman, as the Bat, he always knew what he wanted, where he was going, and exactly how to take it. Normally a typical response would have rolled off his tongue at Clark's jab, barely even stopping to make the electrical connection from his brain to his mouth. I always know what I'm doing.

But sitting in the car, staring into the street, the words hadn't come. The thought wasn't there. Clark had made it all the way down to the steps and out of sight without receiving any reply.

I hope you know what you're doing...

The truth was, for the first time, he didn't.

Batman didn't know what he was doing. He had placed a child in danger. He had taken something impressionable, vulnerable, and crafted it as a tool to throw into the middle of his own battle.

Bruce Wayne didn't know what he was doing. He had surrounded himself with something that he'd never thought he needed, that he'd pushed away so many times in the forms of willing women and desperate friends. And now, in a heartbeat, he was recklessly throwing away everything he had worked so hard to create. What scared him more: He wasn't even thinking twice about it.

He had taken Tim immediately to the hospital. Not to Leslie Thompkins, not to Alfred, not to the Cave or the Manor. The hospital. The Bat family was good at changing clothes and discarding identities, and both had been done in the car that night. Barbara had cleaned Tim up, he drove, and in little less than half an hour, Bruce Wayne had appeared on the steps of Gotham hospital carrying a limp child in his arms.

Bruce didn't remember the story he had told them. He knew it was good. His lies were always good, but only snatches of it stayed with him. He'd have to brush up on it for the police interview that was undoubtedly coming. All he recalled of his thoughts then were one thing—the same thing he continued to think: He wished he could sell his very soul just to switch places.

...know what you're doing...

Why hadn't he called the others? Why, when Tim went missing, hadn't he immediately used the resources that were available to him? Shayera's mind, Diana's strength, Clark's resources—even just the eyes would have been better than nothing. Eight pairs of eyes constantly searching instead of just two. And J'onn. Maybe J'onn could have found Tim before any of this even happened. Before the Joker had time.

But of course, he had provided the time, hadn't he? All those nights searching the bars, combing the streets, exhausting lines he knew wouldn't lead anywhere. All for Tim's sake? No. For his own.

...for Tim's sake.

Maybe, for Tim's sake, it was time to set it right.

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A blur of activity suddenly caught J'onn's eye on the GSS console. A square panel located near the top beside six other identical boxes had suddenly turned on, displaying a series of different colored bars and a large red light. Surprised, J'onn leaned forward, too focused to notice Diana's private smile in the background. Batman had just turned on his communicator. Seconds later, a green button beneath the box began fluttering in succession and then going dark, indicating at an incoming call. He answered before it had time to flash again. "Watchtower."

"J'onn?" The voice on the line was unmistakably Batman's, but there was something different about it. The Martian immediately felt a heavy weight descend upon his shoulders, as if he were now carrying another person's burden in addition to his own.

"Yes?"

There was a pause. "...I need a favor."