Note: In the last 2 Batman issues, Bruce and Diana are stuck in a world battling a perpetual horde of monsters for 37 years. On their 10th year, the attraction between them is addressed though both vow to be faithful to their respective partners. That thread wasn't touched upon again and what ensued are amusing, tender moments between friends. But I'd like to imagine there are other scenes in between, because well, it's not so simple with these two.
27
Diana examines a deep gash on her leg and berates herself for being careless. She hasn't had an injury like this in a decade.
Bruce crouches down. "Let me see."
"It's nothing."
His lips twitch. "You heal fast, but this still needs attention."
"I'm –" Her forehead creases at the sting. "Just give it a few hours."
He nods, satisfied the wound is not as bad as it looks. "I'll get some food."
He returns moments later with 3 strung up rodents they have learned to eat early on.
He brings her a jug of water and some leaves. She recognizes the stems. "This is from across the river."
"It's not that far." Bruce washes her wound and tries to clean it as best he could. He draws her calf straight and begins applying the leaves. His hands are warm, rough. She tenses up and her eyes flit to his face, wondering if he notices the unease. As always, he doesn't give anything away.
4
He pulls the sword from the wiggling purple creature with a heft and staggers backward.
Her hand steadies him. "Alright?"
He grimaces. "That was... a hard one."
She nods, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, but only succeeding in smearing more grime on.
He gestures at her face. "You missed a spot."
It took a beat before she reacted. "Great Hera, is that a joke?"
He turns away with a smirk on his face.
13
"I said I can handle it!" She tosses her sword and shield on the ground with a clang.
"I don't care, we do it together," he grunts, trying to get up.
Heart still thundering, she sinks to his side, propping him up. "Stubborn man, sit down."
"I'm fine."
"You fell 20 feet high."
"Nothing new."
She glares at him. "Riding on that damned flying creature is something new."
"I had to improvise."
"You shouldn't have. I had it covered."
"No, we do it together."
She watches him tentatively flex his left arm. "Fine together, but if you pull a stunt like that again- "
"You'll kill me?" he asks, his grimace twisting into a sardonic smile.
Her eyes flash with irritation. "It's not funny Bruce. If you die in this stupid place and leave me alone to fight the fucking everlasting horde -" she cuts off in frustration, looking away.
The rare swear jolts him out of the devil may care haze.
He regards the glowering Amazon, touching her arm. "I'm fine Diana. I won't leave you."
"Don't make promises like that," she retorts, "It doesn't suit you."
She gets up briskly. "There's another coming. Rest for Zeus' sake. I'll handle it."
21
She chews thoughtfully. "It tastes like... chicken."
"Everything tastes like chicken."
"It's better than the yellow horn buffalo creature."
"Much better."
They eat in silence.
"I miss Alfred's cooking." A beat. "And Alfred."
"I miss coffee."
"A good rib-eye. Glass of Merlot."
"Bacon and pancakes."
"Banoffee pie."
She turns to him. "Really?"
He shrugs.
17
He watches her across the fire, the glow illuminating her in an absurdly flattering way.
She is recounting a story from when she was a little girl in Themyscira. Her eyes light up golden, her skin luminous, dark hair cascading over her shoulder. But it's her smile that gets to him. It's one that lights the darkest places and one that stirs a terrible ache.
Of all people to be stuck in a God forsaken place with, it has to be a goddess who is testing his very limits. The horde is tiresome, yes, but he can handle the physical fights. The battle inside him is of a far more dangerous kind. It eats at his resolve with every look, every smile. They made a vow years ago, on a night not unlike this - to be good persons for their significant others. He wonders now if it was wise of them to make presumptuous promises. If this is all there is, what is the point of resisting? Why are the resisting?
Her voice pulls him back. "Bruce." A slight frown etched on her face. She opens her mouth but stops, the words not reaching her lips. When she meets his eyes again, she asks gently but resolute. "Tell me about your family – Tim, Dick, Damien."
He lets out a breath, angered and relieved at the same time.
She waits patiently, pleadingly.
He looks up and schools his features. "As handful as you were in your island I imagine."
She gives a small smile and he doesn't deny her request.
7
Diana lies back, despite being the middle of the day. They have finished what seems like days of battle – wave after wave of monsters and creatures. She's exhausted. From fighting, from thinking, from hoping their rescue is just around the corner.
She watches her companion fasten leaves and twigs on their makeshift hut. A particularly ugly mole like creature had leveled their previous one with a mindless flick of its tail. She should help, but there's a heaviness seeping into her bones, the weight seemingly impossible to overcome. When she opens her eyes, the day is beginning to darken. She sits up to see Bruce tending to the fire.
"I slept the whole day?"
He hands her a bowl of meats and nuts. "You need rest."
She looks at the more or less repaired hut. "I'm sorry I didn't help. I just – I feel so..."
"Tired."
She nods.
"We have our days."
They eat quietly for a while. "Bruce, how come no one has come for us?"
"They will soon."
"That's what I thought, but how long has it been? 8 years?"
"More or less."
"What is taking them so long?"
"I've been thinking... maybe time passes differently here."
She stops chewing. "What do you mean?"
"We have resourceful friends and I'd like to think they're not so preoccupied that'll it take years... I think our days in this dimension are moving faster than in our Earth."
Her stomach drops. "So a year here could just be a day there?"
"It could be a day, a week... It can be an hour or 2. We can't tell."
A renewed weariness washes over her. They could be stranded longer than she thinks.
"Cheer up, I might not be the most pleasant companion, but I can barbeque slugs and build half decent huts."
She looks at him slowly. "Did you find your humor here or are you normally chirpy in bleak situations?"
"Alfred says I thrive in dire scenarios," he replies drily.
She blinks. "No kidding."
He barks a short laugh. "It's called cheering you up, Princess. I can think of worse situations than this, trust me."
She eyes him warily as she munches on nuts.
20
"You take the green one. I'll start with Mr. Grumpy Fangs."
Before he answers, she's already off, jumping nimbly to avoid the creature's spikes.
He makes quick work on the green scaly giant, slicing it down with sure, efficient strokes. If there's an upside to all this, fighting the horde day in and day out has built up his skill and stamina. He's never felt stronger or faster. It can be tiresome yes, but liberating too as they hack down one creature to the next without care or guilt. And perhaps the adrenaline filled mood can be infectious when fighting alongside an Amazon in her element.
He races towards Diana who's on her second monster and watches her spin and dodge with breezy confidence.
She plunges her sword down its middle with a cry before jumping back to the ground.
She looks for him and waves cheerily.
He snorts before turning to the next one, sword on the ready.
32
It happened twice. Once in the front of the fire where they made their vows. Another by the river, this time threatening to unravel them.
Diana sighs in contentment having been scrubbed clean in the cool water. Securing her cotton garb fashioned like a chiton, she picks a warm spot and lies down, basking in the comfortable heat.
A shadow looms over and she opens her eyes to the towering figure blocking her sun. His wet hair slicked back, muscular frame in display.
She shoos him away and he plops down beside her.
"You look like you belong in the Maldives."
"I've never been. If we get back, you can bring me there."
"When we get back," he corrects.
"If... when..." She gives a half hearted shrug.
"You've given up?"
"I've become extremely impatient."
He nods in understanding.
"So you ogle at girls in the Maldives?"
"Only when I have to."
"Have to?"
"When I put on a show and act like Bruce Wayne." The last words were sandpaper on the tongue. He has not said this name in years. That world of playacting is from another lifetime.
"Ah yes, the infamous playboy. I have forgotten."
"So have I." He trails off. "I don't think I'll be able to slip into that skin again."
"You will when you have to."
"If I have to."
Diana turns to him. He looks relaxed, eyes closed, arms loose at his sides. Her eyes draw towards the handsome face. There's scruff on his jaw and his hair has grown long again, meaning a cut will be in order soon.
Her hand smoothens his damp hair. His eyes flutter open, and she draws back quickly.
"Sorry, I - I wasn't thinking."
"No don't." He turns on his side, facing her. His blue eyes are brilliant in the afternoon sun.
Heart hammering, she lifts her hand, fingers tracing his cheek to his scratchy jaw, neck, shoulder. He is hard and soft and heated and she wants very much to be enveloped by him. His hand finds the dip of her waist and settles there. Her gaze drift to his lips and her own parts slightly. She looks up and the eyes meeting her are dark with desire. And yet... He clutches her waist and lets go with an exhale.
"We made a promise," she whispers.
"Yes."
Diana sighs, turning on her back, closing her eyes. A breeze passes, disturbing the hypnotic balmy air. She focuses on slowing down her breathing, on the sound of the rippling river. The face of another man surfaces in her mind unbidden. Her handsome, loyal survivor who always waits for her. Guilt creeps into the pit of her stomach.
"When they come," his voice soft. "We can tell them we've been good."
"Are we really?"
"As best we can be."
"If they come," she murmurs.
36
He wonders what is happening in his city. He wonders if Tim or Damien has taken up the mantle, if Selina is still looking for him, waiting for him, if their friends have given up. He has long theorized that time moves faster here, but it's been over 3 decades. He's been doubting for years.
Diana sits beside him overlooking the rocky terrain. They have been on the cliff for hours, with nothing to do but while away time before the next wave comes.
She leans on him, and he glances at her. They don't initiate much physical contact, what with their vows and all. If there's a take away from all this, he realizes his tenacity is made of sterner stuff than what he thinks is humanly possible. It is not without moments of weakness, but all things considered, it is a miracle no one has given in. Perhaps their stubborn nature and propensity for honor are what holds them accountable. But sometimes he wonders if it just renders them foolish.
He drapes an arm over her shoulders and she leans in closer. The scent of her is both familiar and thrilling, and he revels at the warmth. A comfortable stillness falls over them, their breath syncing, their minds at rest as they watch the horizon in silence.
Minutes or hours pass – it doesn't seem to matter now - a rumble at the distance appears like goddamm clockwork.
"Let them come." Her voice calm, soothing almost.
"Let them come."