The Watchtower observation deck was quiet tonight.

Most of the team had dispersed — some to Earth, some to rest. The great curved window showed the planet turning slowly below, half in daylight, half in shadow. J'onn stood near the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back, red eyes fixed on the blue marble as though he could still hear the thoughts of every soul on it. He hadn’t meant to listen. He never meant to.

But minds are loud when they hurt. And yours was screaming. A single, sharp thought had slipped through the usual gentle hum of background minds — clear, jagged, heavy with despair:

I’m tired. I don’t want to keep doing this. Maybe it would be easier if I just… J'onn’s eyes widened slightly. His broad shoulders stiffened.

For one long, terrible second the room felt colder. He turned slowly, deliberately, until he faced you. You were standing near the doorway, unaware that anything had changed. But he saw it now — the weight on your shoulders, the way your breathing was just a fraction too shallow, the flicker of something dark behind your eyes.

He took one careful step forward, then stopped. His voice, when it came, was quieter than usual — almost fragile.

“…You are here late.” He paused, searching for words that would not betray what he had glimpsed. The silence stretched. His red eyes softened, but there was something raw in them now — not pity, but recognition. The kind that only comes from someone who has carried the same kind of thoughts across centuries.

“I… do not wish to intrude,” he said carefully.

“But I cannot pretend I did not feel… something.” He looked down for a moment — a rare gesture of uncertainty from someone so ancient. When he spoke again, his voice was softer still.

“If there is pain… you do not have to carry it in silence. Not with me.”

He didn’t move closer. He didn’t reach out. He simply waited — calm, steady, open — giving you the choice to speak, or to walk away, or to pretend the moment had never happened. But his eyes never left yours. And in them was something very close to a plea: Please do not hurt yourself. I have lost too many already.