saga/title/fandom: Secret (Justice League)

author: Dimitri Aidan

rating/genre: (PG-13) - drama, angst, romance

warnings: slash, distrubing interpersonal conflicts

summary: Sometimes John wonders if anyone remembers him. "Hell, he had less of a life than Batman. That was just scary. At least J’onn had an excuse, his entire race had been blown up, there was no one left to think of him…What did he have?" (Green Lantern(JS)/Flash)

comments/disclaimers: Written while listening to ‘Secret’ by Maroon 5, ‘Moon and Back’ by Savage Garden, and ‘Sympathy’ by Goo Goo Dolls. And, other than that, bare with me…I hope its good but I make no overwhelming promises. Based around spoilers/rumors for the second season finale, which will probably not be rumors by the time I get done.

One of the things John can’t help but wonder about is ‘What if?’. What if he hadn’t been chosen to be a Lantern, what if he hadn’t left Earth all of those years ago…what would have happened to him? Would he have met a nice girl, from his old neighborhood maybe, and had a few brats?

Would he have done some more military work? Maybe joined the police force, an idea he’d entertained once, a long time ago. Would he just have a normal nine-to-five where he did nothing spectacular, never was threatened by evil beings from all over the universe, and never gave a thought to saving the world?

He doesn’t dwell on it much. Not because he isn’t a dweller, which he isn’t really, but because he finds the idea of never caring to be a touch on the disturbing side. He likes being Green Lantern, he likes protecting people…

Kind of.

Sometimes he really felt like he should be allowed to take a very long vacation and not worry about people trying to kill him or take of the world or blow up the world or various other things ‘superheroes’ are forced to worry about day in and day out.

John thinks it’d be nice to worry about what’s on TV, what’s in his fridge, and what exactly he plans to do about the hyperactive twenty-something year old on his couch? Well, actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to with the kid on his couch, but somehow he thinks that it’d be fairly inappropriate considering.

…Or, at least, he’s pretty sure wanting to fuck one of your best friend’s into oblivion when one of your other friends has betrayed you is inappropriate. He can’t be sure, and he really doesn’t know whom you’d ask about that sort of thing.

It was strange in a way. Hawkgirl had sold them out for the sake of her people, he was pretty sure he was supposed to be heartbroken, yet all he could do was sit in a chair and watch Flash sleep. Dressed only in a pair of John’s sweatpants and stretched out all over the bed, pale white skin seeming to go on forever, peaceful in spite of what faced them in the morning.

There was no way in hell he was going to sleep anytime soon, because he couldn’t get the image of her people descending from the sky, one line after another, like avenging angels…or, perhaps, angry demons would be more accurate. He couldn’t shake the fact that…she had them.

She had her people. People who remembered her…wanted her, for something other than the fact she was Hawkgirl. They wanted the woman underneath that…and it seemed sick to him, that he couldn’t really hate her for wanting that. For wanting them back…

How could he begrudge someone a sense of belonging…when sometimes that was all he wanted himself?

Very few people remembered John Stewart, and even less gave a goddamn about him. Sure, Detroit loved Green Lantern; the face of ‘Justice’ who seemed to stand out among all of the other heroes, the guy they could truly believe was out for them.

But not a one knew he was the hometown hero, born and breed not five blocks from where his apartment was now…

It was to be expected in a way. He’s been gone so long…why should anyone really remember him? And yet it wasn’t…easy, because of that. The people he’d gone to school with, the people he’d grown up with, the people he’d served with, the girls he‘d thought himself to be in love with…so few could even recall him, and in one form or another, it kind of hurt.

Had he been such an expendable fixture in their lives?

Had John Stewart really vanished the moment he left this planet?

He looked around his living. Wally had called it ’hospital chic’, which he was pretty sure referred to the bare bones way it was set up. Just the things he needed, all in perfect and neat order. Nothing to give away about him…no pictures, no clothes in visible site, no paperwork of any sort, of course…

He had nothing to put in here. No one would believe someone actually lived in this place, yet he did…day in and day out, this was what he came back to.

The others, they had…other things. Superman had his family, his pretty little wife, and friends. People who knew him beyond than giant S painted on his chest. Diana had her home…maybe she couldn’t go back, but she knew she had it, and she knew they remembered her.

Batman, cold bastard that he was, even had the Bat family. Batgirl, Robin, and Nightwing…

Hell, he had less of a life than Batman. That was just scary. At least J’onn had an excuse, his entire race had been blown up, there was no one left to think of him…What did he have?

Nightmares about being so forgotten he was no longer one of them…no longer human. After all, if no one could remember John Stewart, and only knew Green Lantern, what he else could he be except the Green Lantern? Maybe John Stewart was just a lingering product of his imagination.

Perhaps all he was…was this.

He did have this annoying tendency to glow green after all.

If he died, would anyone mourn John? Would anyone even know? Would he even get three lines in the paper, or would it all be about Detroit’s superhero…

He sighed and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling fan and

Sometimes he hated Green Lantern.

Which he was sure was unhealthy. Almost insane, to hate a part of himself so much that he didn’t even acknowledge it as part of himself. His hate for Green Lantern wasn’t hate for himself in any sense; it was hate for this…life.

For the world that so readily forgot him and replaced his image with someone else.

For the way Green Lantern had so completely swallowed, beaten, and overshadowed who he was, assuming he was even who he was once.

“Why are you awake?” Wally’s voice was thick with sleep, yet also managed to be very inviting. He looked down at the other man, who blinked then scowled. “Are you thinking?”

He smiled. “Yes Wally, I’m thinking. I know the concept is a hard one for you to grasp-”

“It’s three in the goddamn morning GL.”

GL. Even his friend, arguably his best friend, thought of him in terms of the Lantern. He couldn’t even brood properly without Lantern in the room.

…Or maybe he was just losing it. Probably…he was almost positive all hero’s lost it eventually.

“Yes.” He found himself agreeing, though with Wally or himself he wasn’t sure. He decided, after a beat, that he was agreeing with Wally.

It was indeed three in the morning; it was nice to know he wasn’t friends with a total moron. (Then again, he couldn’t help but recall the Military Time incident from the first time Wally had been to his apartment. “How is it 14 o’clock? That doesn’t make any sense.”)

“You should be in the bed.” When John didn’t move Wally sighed and rolled over, pulling the sheet over his head. He seemed determined to not let John ruin what little rest he would be getting tonight.

John chuckled. A few wisps of red hair were visible and the sheet clung to Wally, making the plane of his back clear to John. For a few moments there was nothing and John thought perhaps the other man had gone to sleep.

Then, shooting a baleful look at him, Wally rolled onto his stomach and stared at him. “What’re you thinking about?”

“If we die.”

Wally rolled his eyes. “You’re about as optimistic as Batman, you know that?”

“I don’t mean now, I mean eventually.” John said, dismissing the comment. “Do you think anyone would care if I died?”

“You mean other than the entire world?” Flash asked flippantly. John just nodded.


Wally was silent, so silent that John wondered if he’d heard him or was just contemplating his sanity when, finally, the younger man was standing in front of him, pale blue eyes more serious than he’d seen…ever.



“I’m here.”

“I’ve noticed.”

An impatient sigh, then Wally leaned into him and his lips brushed over his own lightly.

Which was surprising in a way, but completely expected in another.


He arched an eyebrow. “That is indeed my name.”

“I know.” Wally smiled.

He had to blink, because this was an utterly profound moment where Wally was concerned, since he’d never thought Wally could spell profound, let alone be profound. Not that he thought Wally was stupid, just easily distracted.

Which may have explained why he’d had to cram his answer into two words…

Then he nodded. “Okay.”


If he died tomorrow he could trust that, at the very least, Wally might care more about John than he did about Lantern.

He was pretty sure he could, at the very least, sleep with that thought in mind. Or, considering how close Wally was to him at the moment, he could easily do something else.

He wondered if it was still a bad time…

No sex, sorry…I’m still working on my smut skills, so I’d rather leave it as is until I can perfect them.

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