somniphobia

If Bruce was in a better mood, he might have teased Clark over his choice of car. Really, it would have been less ridiculous if they’d all just taken separate vehicles. 

As it was, Batman driving a minivan full of exhausted superheroes through the desolate countryside wasn’t something anyone was finding a way to make light of right now. It was a testament to how grim their situation was that Barry hadn’t even cracked a joke when Bruce had kicked Superman out of the driver’s seat, and Clark had slid over to the passenger side without a word. 

Flash had, however, complained for the first fifteen minutes of the drive, fidgety and restless where he was sat in between Green Lantern and Aquaman, insisting that it would be safer if Bruce gave him the address so he could scope the place out before the rest of the league arrived. 

“Absolutely not,” Clark had said, clearly run ragged with the weight on his shoulders, voice tighter than he usually would have allowed. “Like Diana said, we need to limit using our powers as much as we can. We have no idea how they’ve been tracking us, we can’t risk it.” 

“But we can't just–” 
Batman had met his eyes in the rearview mirror, leveling Flash with a steely glare, and Barry had immediately shut his mouth without further complaint. 

Really, as if Bruce would ever bring them somewhere that could be compromised. 

He’d lost track of how long they’d been driving for, the world outside of the road in front of him blurring dangerously, but he knew the way to all of his safehouses like the back of his hand. It had to be pushing six hours or so by now, the sky darkening to a sea of orange and gray as the sun sank behind the endless scenery of dark forest.  

Bruce hadn’t been this exhausted in a long time. He was used to going days without sleep, night after night spent patrolling Gotham’s streets, but the last week had taken a toll on all of them.  

The Justice League had been kept on their toes, running from battle to battle for four days straight, their enemy always two steps ahead, never giving them a chance to rest. The Watchtower had been compromised and the founding members of the League had been sent running, left on the defensive without a solid plan of attack. 

They needed to lay low as long as they could, gather their bearings and come up with a plan before someone got killed. Nobody was thrilled about it, sitting back and waiting when a hostile force could change tactics and start targeting innocents at any moment, but there wasn’t much of a choice until they figured out what it was they were up against. 

Hence the minivan with tinted windows, and Bruce driving them to one of his remote safehouses. He’d done everything in his power to ensure they weren’t being tracked or followed, and the roads were desolate, but he hadn’t let himself drop his guard for a second.  
Clark and Diana had both offered to drive several times, worry lacing into their tones as they tried to coax him into pulling over, but he’d barely offered them a word of response, shrugging off their concern and keeping his eyes fixated on the road, stubbornly ignoring the way the right one had begun to twitch. 
Most of the others managed to doze off a bit during the car ride, Bruce able to breathe just a bit easier each time he saw one of them sleeping soundly, even if it was only for a few minutes. Even Clark managed to rest his eyes when it became clear Batman had no intention of willingly giving up the wheel.

Bruce was used to running himself this thin. He’d been burning the candle at both ends his entire life, he could handle a few more days. He’d rest when the Justice League was safely back in the Watchtower where they belonged. 
“We’re here,” Bruce said, turning the van onto the dirt road. He ignored the spike of guilt in his chest when Hal jolted awake at his words. “Get in as quickly as you can, then check and make sure every door and window is locked.”

They all went without argument, Clark and Arthur moving around to the trunk to bring in what little supplies they’d managed to grab. Bruce slowly made his rounds along the outside of the cabin, scanning the walls and the ground, double and triple checking for any signs of life. 

There shouldn’t be anyone around for miles, the cabin one of his more secluded safehouses, and everything seemed to be just as untouched as it was when he’d left it last. They hadn’t been followed, he’d been doing this long enough to know when he was being tailed, and they had a decent vantage point in case anyone did try to ambush them. Still, it never hurt to be wary.