Work Text:
Though it had been decades, so much of J’onn’s memories of Ma'aleca'andra remained clear and sharp. Martians lived so long; their memories had to be ironclad in order to compensate for their lifespans, which could last for millenia. That could be both a blessing and a curse. It was easy for J’onn to remember M’yri’ah and K’hym, but it was difficult for him to let them go. When his memories with them were still so clear, it was hard to admit that they were gone, even with the memories of their passing being even clearer in his mind.
H’ronmeer had been right, however. It was time to let them go.
J’onn had never been good at this part.
At letting go.
His mind always found something to focus on. If he kept his mind busy, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the aching wound of his grief.
He realised, now, how wrong that was. By denying himself freedom from his grief, he was denying M’yri’ah and K’hym the opportunity for an afterlife.
The grief would never leave him, but he did not have to let it control him.
J’onn had many memories of exploring the outer plains of Ma'aleca'andra. The vast expanses of red sand were so different from the spiralling cities of metal and glass. Sometimes, it felt like a different planet all together.
When J’onn was alone on the outer plains, he could hardly feel the pull of any other Martians’ consciousness. The Great Mind went quiet. He could be alone with his thoughts, if only for a moment.
There was nowhere on Earth that felt quite the same, but he found somewhere close. In the Nevada Desert, J’onn felt more alone and more at peace than he had in several decades. The dense sands were almost like the ones found on Ma'aleca'andra.
Moving through the motions of an old-fashioned, Ma'aleca'andran dance, J’onn felt his heart well up with an odd mix of emotion, filled with equal parts of adoration and longing for the culture and people that no longer existed anywhere except within him.
As his song drifted across the Nevada Desert, otherworldly yet graceful, J’onn poured his love and devotion into every part. He took his love for his wife and child, and blended it into song.
The darkness swirled around him. The spectre of H’ronmeer’s influence in Ma'aleca'andra - the burning and deaths - threatened to consume him, but J’onn resisted. He found a way to move forward.
He had to move forward. There was nothing left for him on Ma'aleca'andra.
I dance with the past. I pray to it. I honor my world and family. I hold them close as my breath, then gently, so gently… I let them go.
The last child of Ma'aleca'andra may have lost his home; his family; his life…
… but he hadn’t lost his soul, nor his heart.
He had found a new home on Earth, and with it, people to protect. H’ronmeer would collect his soul eventually, but J’onn planned to save as many lives as he could before the old god finally came for him.
For better and for worse, J’onn was home once again.