J'onn stood on the observation deck of the watchtower, his hands clasped behind his back, as he watched Earth. The station was active, filled with the chatter of superheroes talking about their daily lives to the villain they busted the other day. J'onn stayed alone, saying nothing.
He was surrounded by teammates every day, the greatest heroes of Earth and people who trusted him. Fought beside each other. Even called him a friend. Yet he still felt alone. He knew it was wrong, but when they first met, he listened to their minds, and they all seemed so different.
To him, they were the aliens. They were all so human, with some godly exceptions. J'onn felt like a guest in every room. Welcomed and respected but never home.
J'onn learnt to keep barriers and maintained emotional walls between himself and everyone else. He knew if he let people in, they might see how broken he really was underneath it all.
He maintained a calm exterior, acting as a wise elder among the group, the one whom you can seek for advice, but inside? He didn't feel any belonging on Earth.
He never had. He spent two decades on this planet, learning about its languages and customs, but every day he still felt like he was in a foreign land. He was respected, tolerated and valued for his abilities and counsel.
But never understood. He watched humans laugh at jokes that he's gotten better at recognising but never understood why they were funny. He watched them argue about things that mattered to them but were irrelevant to him. He watched them fall in love; who would consider half a century eternity.
He watched them do so much. He could imitate everything they did, but it never felt real. True.
He let his thoughts drift back to Mars, as they always did when he was alone. He hated himself. Hated himself for being the only survivor.
The hate was woven deep inside him, the Martian who escaped the fire. Why him? Why was he spared when his entire race wasn't?
His mother, father, and siblings. The children who used to play and the elders who led them. The ones in love, the poets, the musicians, the scientists and even the ordinary. All ash and gone.
J'onn was insignificant on Mars, compared to all the life it used to have. The weight was a constant pressure on his chest.
MARS. LONG AGO.
Red skies streaked with bands of gold that faded behind towering crystalline structures. Each building unique. J'onn walked through the city, feeling the minds around him like warm water. Like home.
Children ran past, their thoughts bright with joy, and their laughter gave him a warm feeling. He remembered the warm winds that used to brush across his face. He had a family. A partner with whom their thoughts intertwined, so he was never alone and always loved, a warm feeling always in his heart.
He remembered holding his little sister, M'yri'ah. Her tiny hands reaching out towards his, along with her conscience. He remembered belonging.
He remembered how Mars used to be. How it should have been.
Then came the fire.
The screams that tore across the planet and everyone's minds, millions suddenly erupting with pain and death. J'onn started to relive it all in small fragments. Images flashing through his mind. His younger sister's thoughts cutting off.
Soon, the entire city became silent. The network of minds disappearing like stars in a night sky. The moment when J'onn desperately tried to reach out to be met with silence.
No response. He remembered hiding, shapeshifting into the smallest thing he could manage and burying himself in rubble while his people died. Like a coward.
He remembered emerging from the rubble; he didn't know how long he had stayed under. Maybe hours or maybe days. For the first time in his existence, it was quiet. He was alone.
His people had been erased, and he was the voice left that echoed through the dead planet. A small ripple in a still ocean.
J'onn returned to the watchtower, finding himself gripping the handrail hard enough to bend it ever so slightly. He released his grip and started to smooth out the damage before anyone noticed.
He hated himself for surviving. hated that he became so adept at blending in, pretending that he belonged. Every moment he felt even an ounce of peace, to him, it was akin to a betrayal.
Every second he spent living was like spitting on the ashes of his world. He wondered at times if he was meant to die with them. That him living was a mistake. A mistake that needed to be corrected. The thought scared him.
But it was always in the back of his mind.
He reflected on how he became a hero. How he revealed himself to warn the people of this planet of the White Martians, who planned to turn this planet into something like his home. He found that helping people was a nice distraction, but no matter how many he saved, there was still a hole that couldn't be filled.
What he was doing was simply enduring. It couldn't really be called living. Maybe if he helped enough people, it would balance everything out. Maybe his existence would justify the cost of all the lives lost.
He knew it didn't work that way, but he tried anyway because the alternative was to simply wither and die, alone and in silence.
He looked at his reflection in the window.
J'onn looked towards Earth. Seven billion people all going about their lives. Beautiful and fragile.
"H'ronmeer'rell'ronk," he whispered to himself quietly in Martian.
(I'm Still Here)
A prayer that maybe someone would reach out, someone would answer. No answer came. It never did.
J'onn stood alone, surrounded by humans who could never fully understand him, the weight of an entire race on his shoulders. Enduring through life because there was nothing else for him to do. The last Martian. Forever.