Chapter 7

Time passed. Bruce hated this part, waiting for hours on end with no way to make himself useful other than to keep watch. The blinds to the room had long ago been closed and his jacket hung securely over the window on the door. As the hours of the night ticked by he sat in a chair facing the door and kept an eye out for anyone checking the rooms. He had made an "arrangement" with the hospital staff that allowed him to bend some of the visiting rules for just one night, but he still wasn't foolish enough to believe their deal whole-heartedly. After a short time the motion sensor beside the door switched off the overhead lights. He did not bother to turn them back on.

In wake of the darkness the eerie glow of J'onn's yellow eyes cast a perverse light throughout the room. The luminance was more than a little disconcerting, but it allowed Bruce to see that, for the first time since the accident, Tim's face was relaxed, his ragged eyes closed in blissful sleep. He hoped the battle within was going as smoothly as it looked from without.

Every once and a while he glanced over to check on J'onn. Knowing almost nothing about the powers working before him, he only had the Martian's own instructions to guide him as he watched for anything unusual. The way J'onn had explained it, sometimes within the subconscious of another the mind would recognize the foreign invasion and attempt to merge the two psyches in order to restore balance. When that occurred he had to withdraw fast lest he lose the connection to his own body. If he couldn't do it on his own, someone had to be ready to try and snap him out of it, preferably with a sensation that traveled to the brain quickly, like pain. Of all the times they'd done this Bruce had never had to step in. He didn't want tonight to be the first.

More than accustomed to sitting motionless for hours on end, he waited with unending patience as he listened to both J'onn and Tim mutter indistinguishably into the darkness. Then, after a little more than three hours of waiting, J'onn suddenly moved and the lights flicked on with the power of a gunshot. By the time the Martian stumbled backwards Bruce was already there to steady him.

J'onn recoiled from the touch as if it burned, staggering blindly until he found a wall to steady himself against. A tear was drying his cheek—a reminder of being bonded with Tim's tortured mind. Gradually, the life he had just lived and his own separated, and he began to remember who and where he was. Within moments he was able to stand under his own power, though his hands continued to tremble. He thrust them down to his sides to hide how violently they shook.

Bruce had moved away once he saw J'onn was steady enough to hold himself upright. The lingering confusion was nothing unusual; it simply needed a few moments to pass. As he waited, he studied Tim intensely in an effort to control his impatience. He tried to keep himself from making any speculations, but at seeing Tim's eyes still closed in a relaxed sleep, he couldn't help but take it as a hopeful sign. When he felt J'onn's eyes on him, he looked up.

"Can you help him?"

J'onn took a shaky breath as he considered his answer carefully before speaking. "There are powerful forces at work within this boy, not all of them fixable. Some will probably plague him for the rest of his life. However, they have not completely claimed him yet. It will take several more sessions, but...I believe I can help." His expression turned hopeful. "You should know that the mental block that has currently seized him is not of a foreign design, and that is good. Tim built it himself as a defense mechanism—a shield for protection. It means I won't be able to step deep inside his mind to help him out of it, so a great majority of his thoughts will not be available to me, but it does mean it is removable. Ultimately, however, he must be the one to choose to take it down."

Bruce did not take the time to digest the information as J'onn had though he would. Instead, he pulled a chair close to the bed and coolly took a seat. The words that followed felt as if they had been practiced many times. "I want to know what the Joker did."

J'onn looked away. He wasn't sure that was a good idea. Batman didn't know what he was asking.

The demand came again—solid, determined. "J'onn. Tell me."

Sighing, the Martian sunk into his own respective chair and began speaking in a soft, reserved voice.

Now it was his turn to tell a story.

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The automatic doors to the hospital closed with a gentle swish behind the pair as they exited out into the parking lot. There was no conversation to accompany them on the journey back to the car. The only sounds were those of their footsteps walking in time and the occasional splash of water from the puddles that stood in their way.

Bruce had not said anything since asking J'onn to relate what he'd seen. He was an excellent listener, almost frighteningly so, and had remained attentive and impassive throughout the telling. To J'onn, however—who could see on more planes than just the ones he was shown—the tale had been difficult to relate. The words hurt. He had felt the damage they were doing as he'd said them, so much so that more than once he had given serious consideration to stopping and refusing to continue no matter what was said. But each time the temptation arose, he reminded himself that Batman deserved far more than that. He was family, and as such he deserved the truth. If there was one thing a family should always have been able to share...it was the truth.

This thought followed him even after he had finished and during the long, silent walk out of the hospital, past the receptionist's desk, and into the warm night air. With the anxieties of the unknown now deadened into the calm yet sorrowful folds of understanding, J'onn's mind drifted away from Tim Drake back to his own shadow hovering darkly over his shoulder. His eyes glanced thoughtfully to the side, studying Bruce Wayne's pale face in the limited light. He had used his abilities to perform a great service here tonight, but deep within he knew it did little to outweigh all he had discovered. And deep within, he also knew it was time to stop denying, to stop running from himself and make the decision on what to do about it...just as Batman had.

He would have to tell the others.

The mere thought of it made J'onn instantly uncomfortable, but it had to be done. He saw now quite clearly that he had betrayed the Justice League. They trusted him, and he had taken advantage of that trust as well as broken it. Batman had been right to be wary of his abilities; J'onn was finally able to admit this to himself. Now, all that was left was to admit it to the others.

"I don't know how many favors I can get from the hospital staff."

Bruce's voice startled him out of his own thoughts. "I'm sorry?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'm assuming you'll have to get in to see Tim again. But I can't bend the rules forever without them getting suspicious."

On the surface it seemed as if things were returning to normal. J'onn felt himself slip effortlessly into routine as Batman began examining the situation from the logical standpoints that were his specialty. But both men knew no number of rituals could hide what was truly on their minds. The reprieve would not last long.

"Oh, yes" he answered halfheartedly. "I suppose that will be something we must work out." The humans had long ago learned to accept him as a member of the Justice League, and ordinarily hospitals allowed him free entry to work his miracles. This situation, however, was much more delicate than anything he had faced before. It would do no good to have Bruce Wayne's name closely associated with anything having to do with the Justice League, no matter how justified the contact between them was. "I am not sure how long or how many sessions it will take to coax Tim out of his prison." J'onn continued. "Is there a way you can have him moved to a private hospital? Or even into your personal care? It would make things a great deal simpler."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't move immediately—not until I know what the authorities are planning."

The Gotham police...it was not until they were mentioned that J'onn was reminded of the ramifications lying just beyond the immediate situation. He knew, just as Bruce Wayne knew, that more troubles waited eagerly on the horizon. Tim's fight may have been drawing to a close, but the battle was not over; it was merely in the process of moving to a different field. He was only able to dwell on it for a moment, however, before he was reminded that he was not supposed to know about the authorities at all.

"You have placed great faith in me this night...and now I feel there is something I must tell you."

The words came forth with a mind of their own. The night air grew thicker as the pair stopped before the black Jaguar they had vacated only hours before. J'onn lost the concentration needed to hold his human form as he paused in the awkward silence, fishing hopelessly for the rest of what he needed to say. Then a voice suddenly spoke for him.

"You knew."

His eyes shot up, horrified, but Batman's expression was simply tired, unchangingly so. "You don't have to be psychic to be able to read people. Even aliens."

"I am afraid it goes far beyond mere knowing" J'onn replied softly. "I was there."

Batman did not answer. He needed no more of an explanation. The members of the Justice League were very familiar with the fact that there was a range to the Martian's psychic abilities, but only one had ever asked for a specific measurement. In addition, it was no secret that the entire League had been in New York the night he had faced the Joker.

"I should have said something earlier" J'onn continued, the words falling into place almost automatically. "I fear my powers have grown far beyond anything I can control. The longer I stay here and the more I use them, the stronger they become. They are evolving. I do not know how it is happening, I did not even think it was possible, but they are adapting to this planet, these people...the Justice League. And now you and the others have been caught up against your will into a maelstrom of force that I cannot curb. I fear I may have become the thing I fought so hard to defeat all those centuries ago. And there is no way that I can—"

But he never got to finish. For at that moment, with no consideration to the magnitude of what he was saying, he was interrupted.

"J'onn. I don't care."

He stared and fell silent. At first he thought he had heard incorrectly, but Batman seemed as calm as ever, his voice as even as his words:

"You use your abilities for a good cause. The fact that you're Martian and we're not is out of your control, just as your powers are when they're thrown into an environment you couldn't possibly have prepared them for. I don't like speaking for the others, but what I'm about to tell you, you can take as the word of the entire Justice League: Whatever you were going to say, whatever you had rehearsed, it's not necessary. We aren't concerned with who you were or who you think you are. You don't owe it to us to explain everything about your old life. Your actions speak loud enough, and that's where our trust in you is based."

J'onn was speechless. This was not the reaction he had been expecting. Out of all the people in a position to feel outrage at such a confession, he assumed Batman's would have been the strongest. But not even the darkest recesses of Bruce Wayne's mind compromised his words.

He couldn't explain why, but for the first time in weeks peace entered his mind. Already he could feel the shadow lifting from his shoulders. A part of him still wanted to hold onto the guilt, the shame, but it was a part that had been suppressing an old life for so long it may as well have been embracing it. In turning away from everything he once was, he had simply led himself to yearn for that sense of trust, of companionship, of family even more. And now he saw that he had found it again in six people whom he trusted with his life, and also with the most sacred gift a Martian could ever give: his soul.

"Do you need me to drive you anywhere?"

Routine returned, except it no longer seemed awkward or wrong. There was nothing underneath to hide.

"No...I will return to the Watchtower from here. It is late and there is sufficient enough cover for me to fly over the city. Tim should awaken by midday tomorrow, though he may be slightly disoriented. It would be good to have someone he knows nearby as he's waking up."

"I'll be there."

"Thank you for—"

"No, J'onn. Thank you. From both of us."

The Martian nodded. Turning, he readied himself to lift off into the air when suddenly he felt a hand grip him on the arm, asking him to stop.

"There's one more thing..."

He turned to face this man he had come to know with a new respect in the past few hours; but even as he met Bruce Wayne's eyes, he could already see the person underneath sinking beneath a dark shadow, perhaps never to surface in such a way again.

"This stays here."

J'onn regarded him in silence for a moment. "I understand" he said, feeling slightly hurt that Batman would even feel the need to stipulate such a condition. "It is ironic, though, that for being the most human out of all of us...you should make the greatest effort to conceal it."

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They were waiting for him.

J'onn could feel it long before he approached the tower. It was very rare for the entire Justice League to all be together so late into the shift schedule, but they'd each made an appoint to be there tonight. By now Wonder Woman's fears had undoubtedly spread to each of them. The connections linking them to J'onn allowed them to share, to a small and subconscious extent, the emotions playing through his mind. They didn't know why they felt they needed be at the tower, they just knew it was important.

He entered to find them conducting a meeting with the New York authorities over the incident from a few days ago. There were streets to be repaired, assurances to be made, and other such manners of politics that often followed a victory of that nature. It was something constructive for the League to do as long as they were all there. Ordinarily he would have stood outside the room until the call was finished, but he thought it unfair to make the others wait any longer. It sounded from the conversation that they were on the verge of finishing, anyway. Quietly, he stepped through the door and took his usual seat at the round table before the large video monitor used for conference calls. The others glanced at him briefly when he entered, but were aware enough to not appear distracted while they were doing business—except for Flash, who kept trying to catch J'onn's eye for a positive or negative sign of the situation. Hiding a smile, the Martian indulged him with a brief mental message.

The conference call ended shortly afterwards when Superman cleverly steered it into a quick close. Thank-you's were exchanged all around, and then the League was left to itself.

Wonder Woman spoke first—so much like Batman in her willingness to take the initiative. "We heard."

J'onn glanced to a particular set of eyes across the table. He may have been bound to a promise of silence, but Superman was not. "Then I suppose there is very little I could say that you don't already know."

"Should we wait 'till later?" Flash asked in concern. "You look like you're gonna fall over."

"No. There is actually not much to relate. As far as I can tell Tim is fine for now. I did the best I could, but it will take time before I will know what is helping and what isn't."

Hawkgirl folded her hands on the table. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I may be unable to take watch for the next few weeks."

"We can handle that" Green Lantern offered. "New York and the surrounding cities are in the process of getting their volunteer organizations in place. It should take some of the pressure off of us."

"I think we could all use the break" the Martian answered.

The others agreed, some with ironic smiles, save for one.

"And what about Batman?" Superman asked.

J'onn's gaze fell. To the others it seemed as if he was looking at the table, but in truth he was already miles away. His eyes turned inward, seeing the silhouette of a man hunched on a sofa in an empty living room, his head buried in one hand in a pose that none would ever see. Above him, a man and woman smiled through the careful brushstrokes of a family portrait that hung above an intricate mantle. Their faces were concealed in shadow, but below them, the fireplace crackled with a determined flame, casting its light across the room.

"He will come when he is ready."

End

"Man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated."
- Ernest Hemingway