Stay, a justice league fanfic

Last edited on March 10, 2009 (GMT) - Minor fixes

Title: Stay

Rating: T (mild sexual reference)

Summary: Sometimes, life isn't all fun and sunshine. Especially not for superheroes. Fluff/angst, BM/WW.

Word count: 4650ish (with reservation for minor future edits).

Notes: First and not entirely unlikely my only story. Ever. I've never fancied myself much of a writer and I still don't. There's about 1600 words of commentary on the story in my profile page (since I'm not allowed to publish authors notes, apparently) in case you're interested in why I wrote it and why I chose to write it the way I did.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, no likeness to any real person, living or dead, intended, likeness to fictional characters very much intended. You all know the drill.

Gasping for air, Diana rolled onto her back. As she caught her breath, she spared a glance towards the man on the floor beside her. Known to the world as Bruce Wayne, billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises and frequent subject of the gossip columns. Known to her and a select few as Batman, the Dark Knight watching over the city of Gotham. He lay on his back with his eyes closed, sweat glistening on his skin, as it did on hers, breathing heavily. As she studied him, her satisfaction, as it so often did, slowly slipped away and left her with only regret. Not at what they had done, after all, they had so many times before. The source of her regret was that it was all they had done. All they had ever done.

It had started a few months ago. She supposed it was inevitable, in a way. It had been a particularly bad mission. One of those missions you just wanted to forget about, but simply could not. No matter how desperately you might want to. Far too often, despite all the powers at the Justice League's disposal, they were not quite fast enough, not smart enough, or not strong enough. Far too often, they failed. This time was one of those. At least it felt like it. Another scheme by another aspiring ruler-of-Earth, the maniac that this week had to offer. What he could possibly have hoped to achieve with the attack was a mystery.

In the end it did not matter. Why and how, the result was the same. It happened so fast. Explosives detonating, buildings crumbling, panic, and innocent people in the middle of it all. In just an instant, so many innocent lives were lost, countless injured. By the time they arrived - her, Bruce, Clark, Wally of the founding members, as well as a handful of the newer recruits - it was all over. All that was left was "damage control". Such a succinct way to describe it.

For hours they worked among the ruined buildings, desperately trying to find and free the people trapped under the rubble. Many lives were saved that day, but far too often all they managed was to recover the bodies for a funeral. Those that there were enough left of to bury. Clark and Diana searched the ruins, moving what they could. Wally rushed the wounded to the impromptu medical stations. The others did what they could to aid the rescue workers. Bruce, being the only non-powered member present, spent his time on what he did best; investigate. It was too late to stop this attack, but until the one responsible had been found, there was always the possibility of more like it.

It was when Diana lifted yet another slab of concrete that it happened. At the time, Bruce was on his knees only a few feet away and examining what remained of an explosive device that had destroyed the same building the slab was once part of. That was when Diana saw her, a small girl among the rubble where the slab had once been. She could not have been more than five or six years old. To Diana's relief, the girl was alive and apparently unharmed. Her parents had not been so lucky. The girl was not crying though she clearly had during the hours she had spent trapped with only her dead parents for company. If she had been crying, it would have been better. Easier to handle. Instead, as Diana stood frozen, all she could see were those eyes. Deep green, she noted absently. They held no anger or pain or sorrow. That she could deal with. But that horrible emptiness... Those eyes would haunt her dreams for weeks to come.

At some point, Bruce had noticed how she had frozen. By the time she recovered, he had also noticed the reason. Even at the best of times, the Batman was hard to read. Perhaps Clark would know, had he been nearby, but few others would have spared a second glance. But then again, few people had spent nearly as much time with the Dark Knight as Diana. Or watched him as intently. Right now, she saw the small but significant signs in his expression, his posture, even the way he was breathing. She had read about his history and she knew what he saw when he looked at the girl. It was not their fault. They all knew that. He knew that. It still would not stop him from blaming himself.

But what happened next surprised even her. Without a word, Bruce turned and walked away. He gave no signs of even registering Wally's cry of "Hey Bats! Where ya goin'?!", having arrived to check on the progress, before he disappeared from sight.

"Hey, what's up with Dark-and-Scary?" Wally said as he turned to the stunned Amazon. Before Diana could think of an appropriate response, Steel, who busied himself clearing the street of debris for the rescue vehicles, unintentionally bailed her out.

"Probably found something to analyze," he injected, pausing to casually pulverize an unsuspecting piece of concrete with his hammer. "It's Batman, vanishing without a word is kind of his thing."

"Yeah, I guess," Wally shrugged. He awkwardly gathered the girl into his arm, her situation not lost on him. He was perceptive enough not to try cheering her up. He never saw what Diana had though.

As a gust of wind announced his departure and the girl with him, Diana was still staring at the corner Bruce had turned. Unlike her friends, the significance was not lost on her. Batman gave up.

It took another few hours before they reached the stage where meta-human assistance was mostly redundant. Clark volunteered to stay of course, and a few additional members had arrived to help anyway, so covered in dust and blood, Diana returned to the Watchtower. After a much-needed shower and quick meal, she decided that she had given him enough time. She entered the coordinates manually, as usual Bruce took no risks when it came to his identity, and stepped onto the pad.

The darkness and cool air hit her as she got her bearings after rematerializing. The only light illuminating the cave originated from the screens of the massive computer, sitting on its platform. In the chair in front of it, still in full uniform, was the Dark Knight. No doubt he had been there since he left the scene of the attack. He knew she was there, she was well aware. Only she and Clark would dare to come here unannounced, and Clark would not go anywhere unannounced if he could avoid it. He knew, but gave her no reaction. She slowly made her way up the stairs until she stood behind him in front of the computer. She took a moment to study him; slouched slightly in the chair but clearly not relaxed. The screen had stopped flashing with information, setting on something to do with explosives. Her attention did not linger long enough to absorb it. Taking a deep breath, she made her move and placed her hand on his shoulder. She felt him tense, but just for a moment. As he relaxed slightly, she gave him a gentle squeeze in silent comfort.

They remained that way for a minute or two. While he had given her no encouragement, he had not pulled away from the prolonged contact either. Given that this was Batman, it spoke volumes. She made her decision then. She bent down and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. He tensed again, but did not move away as she let her head rest on his shoulder.

After what seemed like hours, though it could hardly have been more than a few minutes, she felt him shift. She slowly released him from her hold as he stood and turned towards her. She shifted her stance, knowing that the moment was over and it was time to return to the limbo that was their relationship. She was wrong.

She suddenly found him kissing her, hard. Had she not been the Champion of the Gods, she might have been bruised by his intensity. Her pride dictated that she should resist. She would have resisted at first, had she not been so surprised. She would have resisted once she recovered, but by then she was kissing him back with equal passion. Not a word was said as the kiss continued and his hands explored her body as hers did his. Not a word was said as they sank to the cold cave floor. It was nothing like she had wanted it, like she had dreamed, but he needed this. She did as well, though perhaps for somewhat different reasons. For a few additional reasons. So when he started working on removing her breastplate, she let him, as he allowed her to remove his own armor a moment later. Even if just for tonight, she would let him have her.

Like the kiss, it had not been about romance. It was not an expression of love, just an outlet for all the pain and sorrow of two people who carried far too much. Since that first time, it took three weeks for it to happen again. It wasn't planned or intended, probably quite the opposite for both of them, but it happened nonetheless. Since then, they had continued on an almost weekly basis. Sometimes he would come to her, but far more often, it would be she who teleported down to the cave to escape the world for a few precious moments. It was always the same; a temporary relief for the frustration and stress they had built up. You could not do what they did, see what they saw for long without an outlet.

Clark had his civilian life. His loving parents at a farm in Kansas that he visited ever so often. Then there was of course his day job as the farm boy-turned-journalist which he seemed to enjoy thoroughly. In no small part, Diana suspected, due to a certain feisty colleague. Lois had a personality, to put it mildly, but she was a good woman at heart and could keep Superman grounded. He badly needed that.

J'onn had placed himself on reserve status, opting instead to spend most of his time among the general human population in order to find his own place in this relatively foreign world. He seemed to spend quite a bit of time with a certain female specimen in particular. Not that it was easy to tell with J'onn, but on the rare instances when Diana had seen him recently, he seemed genuinely happy.

As for Wally, well... The Flash was what he had always been. Anything that was edible, he would consume and blame it on his hyperactive metabolism. Given the quantity and quality of his diet, it was enough to make Diana suspect he was actively trying to induce a heart attack. Whatever wasn't edible, he generally joked about or flirted with, with mixed results. Barda had very nearly left a Wally-shaped hole in the Watchtower hull at one point. Her husband had seemed mostly amused by the whole incident. Perhaps it was all just his own way of coping, but it seemed to work for both him and those around him. As annoying as he could be sometimes, Diana hoped he would never change.

John and Shayera was a different matter. John was still trying his luck with Vixen, and both he and Shayera still did their best to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. There was an ongoing bet in the League on how long it would take for one of them to snap and either kill or sleep with the other. If they lasted about seven more months, Diana would be a moderately rich woman. But while John seemed at least somewhat content with his new girlfriend, Shayera had taken a turn for the worse. Her relationship with the rest of the League was, while improving, still strained. She was not dating and seemed to spend most of her time alone and brooding, enough to give Batman a run for his money (of which his alter ego had no shortage). Diana had no doubt that, given time, she and John would eventually find each other again, she just hoped it would not take too long. Until then, Diana did not know what she could do. While she and Shayera had done what they could to bridge the gap between them since the invasion, the bridge was not particularly stable just yet.

How Bruce had managed for so long, she did not think she would ever understand. He seemed to be working constantly. It was a wonder he even had time to sleep and eat. From what Alfred had told her, on more than one occasion, he simply did not. His nights were spent patrolling Gotham as Batman. No doubt he received some satisfaction from scaring the life out of criminals, but he could at best break even. Every night, more fuel was added to the fire that burned within him. His civilian life consisted mainly of his public appearances as Bruce Wayne, a spoiled playboy with a none-too-impressive intellect. Traditionally, heroes put on a mask to hide their true identity. If anything, Bruce's cowl was his chance to be the real him. Or at least so he thought, Diana was certain it wasn't quite that simple. The Bat was, however, less of a charade than the playboy.

Speaking of secret identities, she herself lacked one. Going out in public in disguise, pretending to be someone else, had never been comfortable for her, but if she did not, she would almost always be recognized. She had for the most part lost her family since her banishment. She still talked to her mother sometimes, but it was not the same. She had friends in the League of course, those who were not simply too awed by her that is, but she couldn't live her life through them. Her attempts at a romantic relationship had been a disaster with no signs of improving. This, of course, led her back to the situation in which she currently found herself.

She moved to get up and started gathering her clothes to get dressed and return to her quarters aboard the Watchtower, as she always had after their private encounters. As she started pulling on her suit, she glanced back at Bruce on the floor. He was half-sitting, covered from the waist by the sheet, supporting himself on his elbows as he watched her. As she turned back to her uniform, he spoke.

"Stay."

True to form, it was not a question or a request.

"Bruce, I... I don't think that's a good idea..." she managed.

Gods, she wanted to stay so badly, but she wasn't sure she could take it. Perhaps she could stay awhile longer, but even if she did, she would have to leave far too soon. It would hurt all the more when she did. It was better this way.

"Please?"

That did it, she melted. As she abandoned her uniform and slipped back under the sheet of the futon, on her side facing away from him, she cursed herself for her giving in. If only her mother and sisters could see her now. Weak and dependent on this man, this mere mortal.

No, that wasn't right. He was far more than that. He had this... aura about him. He had this inexplicable power. The criminals he fought, they feared him. She was slightly envious of him for that. She was strong enough to smash their skulls in without even trying and was practically invulnerable as far as the average criminal should be concerned. And yet, when she showed up all they did was try to shoot her or attack her with whatever weapons they had handy. The mere sight of the Batman however, and they would practically faint where they stood. It really did not seem fair.

The members of the league, they respected him. If they did not when they joined, they would soon enough. They may not ever come to like him, he placed almost unreasonable demands on those around him and it hardly made him popular. But, as they would come to realize, he demanded even more of himself. It was difficult not to respect him for that, however grudgingly it might be. Of course, the patented glare helped. That look that said 'I may not kill, but I can damn well make sure you'll wish I would'.

While Diana did not fear him, for the most part at least, she certainly respected him, but neither was the source of the power he held over her. She hated herself for that. Of all the men in the world, she had to fall for this one. She was not so naive as to think there were not plenty of men willing to be on the receiving end of her affection. It was a difficult fact to miss, sometimes expressed in rather crude terms when they thought she could not hear. Not that Bruce would have any problems himself, even as Batman. The occasional discussion on the Watchtower had not escaped her, and to her great annoyance, Batman seemed to be a fairly common participant in various fantasies. Not that she had any right to complain, they were not in an official relationship and it was not like he was absent from her own dreams. At least she knew she was not the only one, that she was not entirely crazy. Thankfully, his attitude seemed to be enough to deter any potential admirer from making a move.

More than once she had told herself that it had to end, that it would only bring her more pain to carry on like this. More than once, she had gone to him, fully intending to tell him that it was over and could never happen again. Today was one of those times. But, like always, her attempts ended the same way and she would once again have that temporary relief followed by regret. But she needed him. She knew that if this was all he had to offer her, she would take what she could. It disgusted and pained her, but still she kept coming back for more. She also knew why. She loved him. She was no stranger to love, having experienced it with her mother and sisters, but this was different. It was not the comfort of family or the passion of a lover, though that was certainly part of it. The latter at least. She had never experienced romantic love, but she was certain that this was it. She had never told anyone about it or even said it out loud to herself, but she knew. Perhaps J'onn did as well given his unique advantage, she was not sure. At the very least, he suspected. Regardless, it did not really matter if Bruce would never be willing to admit he loved her too. That is, if he did. She did not know which option was preferable.

Her reverie was interrupted as she felt him shift behind her. She suspected the worst even before he said it.

"I'm sorry."

She felt ill. Here it came. 'This was a mistake. You should leave. We have to stop doing this.' She always knew that it would come to this at some point. It was part of the reason why she had tried to end it first, reasoning that it would somehow hurt her less if she was the one to do it. She never could however, and whether it would have helped or not seemed to be a moot point now. She bit her lip as she fought the tears that stung her eyes. Thankfully, at least he could not see her face. Amazons did not cry, especially not over a man. She would not let him see her weakness. She would not cry.

"I should've done this a long time ago..." he continued.

"I love you."

For a moment, time stopped. At first, Diana was not sure she had heard him correctly. She could not have. In her current state, it sounded so ridiculous that she almost started laughing. Instead, in that short eternity, she somehow managed to digest what he had said. Amazons did not cry, but as she had become so keenly aware of since leaving the shelter of her island, that was not all she was. She was also a woman. A human being who, despite all her powers and training, was as susceptible to love and sorrow as any other person.

She cried. She was not sure why or what she was feeling. Anger, joy, sorrow, relief, perhaps all of it, perhaps even more. Whatever it was, the dam that had held it back for so long had burst.

"Diana, are you... Did I..."

She barely registered what he said, but there was a hint of panic in his voice. She reached behind her and pulled on his arm. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely wrapped the arm around her and pressed herself back against his body. He seemed to accept her silent reassurance, settling in and hugging her tighter to him as her tears kept flowing and she let out all the emotions she had not even realized she had bottled up for so long.

She did not know how long they stayed that way, but eventually her tears dried up. They remained still and silent for a while longer as she sniffed quietly and let the storm within her settle into a gentle breeze. She was not exactly happy, more confused than anything, but there was a sense of relief. Like a weight had been lifted from her. She still needed to know though. His arms still around her, she turned around in his embrace. He did not move a muscle, but gazed into her eyes with an unreadable expression as she faced him. She broke eye contact and looked down on his chest.

"Did you mean it?"

Her voice sounded foreign to her. Slightly hoarse from the crying, but it was the insecurity it held that surprised her. The last time she could remember that she had sounded like that, it was when she was but a small child faced with an angry stare from her mother. She could not even remember what she had done, but she had never forgotten that feeling. The memory was starting to upset her again, but she was interrupted by his hand on her chin as he tilted her face upwards and locked his eyes on hers.

"I've never meant anything more in my entire life."

With that, he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. It was slow and lacked the urgency of those they had shared before. It was different, but in many ways, she decided, better. For a while she just enjoyed the moment, before pulling away slightly.

"So... Where does this leave us," she asked, for the first time in a very long time feeling hopeful about her future.

He gave her a small smile. "Well, like I said, I'd like you to stay for awhile..."

"Really? 'A while', huh? Just how long did you have in mind?" she smiled back.

He seemed to consider her question. "I figure about forty or fifty years or so."

She punched him playfully, still smiling, before he continued. "Ouch! What, not enough? We could try it and see where it goes from there", he added.

Not knowing how to reply to that, she settled with kissing him again. As it ended, she snuggled up against him and he kissed her forehead. They remained that way for a few minutes, until she once again pulled away. As he looked at her with a question in his eyes, she gave him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"Like what?" he replied, slightly confused.

"Like... this. Weak," she clarified, blushing slightly.

He reached out and touched her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"Princess, you are the strongest person I know. I don't think there's anything you can do to make me think of you as weak."

This time she managed a genuine smile.

"You have no reason to be sorry," he continued. "I'm just sorry I was too damn stubborn, that it took me until now to admit how I feel. If I-"

Placing a finger on his lips, she did not let him finish. "I'm sorry too, but I'm glad you got around to it. That's all that matters."

With that, they settled into a slightly uncomfortable silence before she spoke up again.

"Great Hera, I must be a mess right now," she said with a small laugh, attempting to lighten the mood.

Her hair tangled and her eyes bloodshot from crying, she was not too far off the mark. Not that he cared.

"Perhaps a little," he agreed, before giving her the biggest smile she had ever seen on him. "But you know what? You've never looked more beautiful than you do right now."

She simply stared at him, then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. This time it certainly was not lacking in passion. Before it could lead them to where they both knew it would however, he wrapped the sheet around them, rose, and picked her up with him. Normally she would protest, insisting that she was quite capable of walking herself, but not now. Not with him. Instead she opted to allow herself to be carried up the stairs into the manor, followed by a second set of stairs leading to the master bedroom. Thankfully, the other residents of the manor was nowhere to be found. She was not sure if she was quite ready to explain the situation to them just yet.

Unbeknownst to both of them however, their ascent had not escaped the notice of a certain butler. Thinking that it was 'about bloody time', he made sure not to make himself known and to ensure that young Master Tim and Miss Cassandra would not either. Later that night, an old man in his bed spoke quietly to no one in particular, "Well done, my boy," and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

That night, it was not an outlet. This time, it was just what she had wanted, and for the first time in a very long time, Diana was truly happy. As she lay draped across him under the Egyptian cotton sheets, content for now to simply listen to his breathing and heartbeat, she thought that she could get used to this. Deciding to break the silence, she vocalized that thought.

"I think it's only fair to warn you, Mr. Wayne," she murmured against him, "I think you'll have a hard time getting rid of me."

This earned her a chuckle and an "Oh woe is me," his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Here I was thinking an Amazon didn't need any man."

She laughed softly against him. It was not a very bright thing to say to an Amazon princess, but she could not bring herself to care at the moment.

"Oh, they have their uses. I don't know about 'need', but we might want one anyway."

She lifted her head and gave him a predatory look. "And, I might add, we are taught that when we want something, we take it."

He swallowed noisily in mock fear, but did not reply. Deciding to let the matter rest for the moment so that she could get some too, she let her head drop back down on his shoulder.

She knew it would not be easy, but she was determined. After all, love was a battlefield and despite everything else she might be, she was still an Amazon. Besides, nothing in life that was truly worthwhile came easily. As she slowly started fading, she remembered something.

"I love you too, Bruce," she whispered.

She was not sure if he was still awake to hear her, but she figured it did not matter. She would have another chance tomorrow. There would always be a tomorrow. She smiled at that thought, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

Closing note: There we are. Bit too sappy for my taste really, I must be getting soft, but I couldn't really justify killing someone. As mentioned, there's commentary on the story in my profile page, so read that as well. It's should offer at least some clues as to why Wonder Woman is depicted the way she is, and why I picked her in the first place. It'll also mention some of my own issues with the story. Review if you want to, I'm interested in anything from plot to clinical writing techniques, it's all good (even if it's bad).