I don't own Batman/Bruce Wayne, Martian Manhunter/J'ohn J'ones or his twin, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, Superman/Clark Kent/Kal El, the Kents, Alfred Pennyworth, or Frederick. So, please enjoy for free.

Gotham South Side Hospital Two Years After Waynes' Deaths

He was disguised as a doctor. Why wouldn't he be? They were all around. If he hadn't shoplifted, he wouldn't have had the energy to do so much. Just watching the child who thought so much about the law passed out on the hospital bed made him feel guilty. He swore inwardly to pay the store back as long as agents hadn't surrounded the place by the time he went back to do so.

Dr. Thompkins sat beside her godson. He'd imagined it would be Alfred. Perhaps the man was out looking for the one who set the place on fire, or him …

He hadn't known what he'd expected, when the boy woke up. But of course, he asked for him. Of course, Dr. Thompkins told him she didn't know where he was. And Bruce, the boy so sad in his heart, even angry deep down, at the man who killed his parents, at the system that hadn't found that man, and even, unfairly, at himself … blamed himself for this too.

As if on instinct, though he could have stopped himself if he'd really tried, he connected Bruce's conscious mind to the memory of pulling him into the freezer. You saved me Bruce, don't forget … don't misunderstand.

Of course, Bruce then tried to talk it out with the woman by his bedside. Of course, she told him the truth. All the adults in his life seemed to value truth, except him. Then, Bruce's despair overwhelmed him.

What should he do? Should he nudge his mind toward sleep to delay the inevitable? No. Should he make him forget? Wouldn't that confuse everyone and only confirm to any who questioned? No. He let out a deep sigh, hating himself and nudged the child's mind toward something else.

Cry Bruce … let it all out … Just let it go … Then let me go.

He watched Bruce wet his face, his pillow, and the sheets of his hospital bed with tears for several minutes. When he thought the child exhausted, it wasn't difficult to then nudge his brain toward sleep. It might not even have been necessary. But, he did.

I'm sorry Bruce. Let me go … Please just let me go now ... unlike with your parents.

He kept his own tears in as he walked back down the hall. There was a tray of mostly uneaten food. He made the person taking it away feel as if someone stared at her from her right, causing her look that direction, as he swiped the brownie from the left. He put it in the pocket of his white coat.

The night he'd knocked out the first arsonist, he'd taken some money, he kept in his pocket and put it in a spot only reachable by phasing. The fat, sugars, and carbs in the brownie should make that easy within minutes. Then he'd repay the store he'd stolen from to have the energy to make it here to this hospital. Then he might have to eat more before moving on … always, always, always moving on … Always it seemed … since Mars was still so far away … How many more years, how many more places, how many more humans will I have to abandon … before I might have a chance to make it home? How many will I have to leave behind by then?

Batcave Eleven Years After Waynes' Deaths

Batman parked the gunshot damaged batmobile in the batcave. He'd switched to it in the basement of Wayne Tower after parking the batmobile Waller's Agent had caught him walking toward there. Normally, he would have simply given the other a thorough examination. But Waller already knew he was Bruce and would suspect he'd work out of Wayne Tower. Hopefully, she wouldn't expect him to go to the trouble of having two bases. Nothing much was lost if she traced his ride there. He also thought John deserved an explanation sooner rather than later. And he had told Clark he'd give it to the Martian.

His green guest was sitting in a chair with his head hanging. Without looking up, John said, "This is justice …"

Batman paused and tilted his head staring at his friend for a moment. Then the Martian explained. "I have left so many wondering … Should I complain when questions important to me are left unanswered?"

"Clark talked to me. Martians are still living on Mars."

John lifted his gaze to meet his. Batman continued in a lower and softer voice. "He said, they all looked like you."

John looked away, but not down as a soft smile turned up his lips. "Green Martians …"

"He said he couldn't examine their cells …"

"Would he know the difference anyway? The cells of Martians white and Green are fairly similar. He's never met a White Martian before has he?"

"Not, we can be sure of. But one of those he saw 'could' have been your niece then. They were in a warm cave like those you say your people, the Green Martians, lived in while you were there. Perhaps, taking on the form of a Green Martian would be of some value in that environment."

John nodded. "It would. Tell me. You are shielding your thoughts, which you wouldn't have much reason to do, other than being you, if you thought you only had good news to share. I can also feel the tension you are hiding less well radiating from you. What do you fear to share?"

Bruce reached up and pulled off his cowl. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh before looking up to look into the Martian's face still turned away from his. Then he replied. "Superman saw two groups of seemingly Green Martians fighting each other after one group had a successful hunt."

The Martian nodded his head. "It makes sense. I didn't expect there to be any left alive, but … if there were … the extension of destruction of our 'habitat' you might put it, could force such confrontations."

"John, you said if there was still life on your planet your brother's mind might heal. And there is. And, you both seem like you'd be assets to any 'team' competing against other teams."

"Or two more mouths to feed for any team or planet."

"You don't have to stay on earth or go to Mars. As I hope you learned from our other off-world visitors, there are many places to go."

"You want me to join them and be a circus act?"

"Don't let Oberon, or especially Barda, hear you talk about it that way."

The Martian gave a sad smile. "No. I suppose that would not be wise."

"Have you finished your letters?"

"Not quite. I feel I should send one or two to the Kents. Perhaps, I should go write them before Superman comes back here to check on me."

"You know him well."

"Perhaps. It was kind of you to tell me for him."

"He delivered some not quite satisfying news to you last time."

"Not quite satisfying. That is one way to put it …"

Batman stared at the Martian in silence. He tried to take in every aspect of the Martian's expression and body language adding it to his mental notes about his tone of voice and word choice.

John interrupted this process. "You are still shielding your thoughts from me … quite well. Who taught you to do that?"

Bruce stopped shielding his thoughts. Without opening his mouth, he directed words straight at the Martian using an accusatory tone. I think you saw who.

Ah, she did not seem Martian.

She wasn't.

But she was another alien.

Yes.

She and you both seemed young.

I was older than I was when you met me, younger than I am now. Considering you got what you "do" know of this matter without my consent, perhaps you "should not" share it or speak of it aloud even with me.

The Martian nodded. Fair enough …

Wayne Manor Eleven Years After Waynes' Deaths

Alfred watched the interaction between his godson and the Martian and sighed. He went to a phone and dialed a number. He had just cleared his throat when someone picked up and asked, "Hey Alfie, are you psychic now?'

Alfred furrowed his brow and puckered his lips in puzzlement. "No, I simply called to see how your investigation for me was going and to encourage you to 'step on the gas.'"

"Interesting. I just got word the likely source is willing to meet with me tomorrow. What are the chances?"

Alfred replied raising an eyebrow. "What indeed?"

Whumptober Prompts recovery, hospital bed, holding back tears, "what have I done?"

What do you think?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes