A/N: Set after Batman vs Superman, and after the Wonder Woman movie. I don't own these awesome characters, please don't sue me.

Chapter One: Dirt

I'm hurled backwards. It's all I can make sense of. My cape shoots around me from the impact. Like a cocoon, it wraps me up as I skid against the concrete. My head spins and as I lay in the dust, he brings down another fist. My ribs crack. The pain shoots through every nerve, and if my nerves could scream, they'd be howling right now.
I reach for my belt and grasp a baterang but my hands tremble. What has he done to me? White noise blasts through the radios built into the bat suit. I can't. I can't.

He steps forward and gives me a menacing look. God, I want to punch that look clean off his face.
His red cape billows. I shove my cape off my shoulders and free myself. I try to move but everything feels heavy, splintered. Like I'm alien to my own body. My arms are covered in cuts from the brawl. I see my blood so often, the sight of it doesn't alarm me at all. What bothers me is the dirt I can see in my cuts. That's gonna sting like hell tomorrow.

A loud crash emanates behind me, I turn back and I don't see him. What I do see is a bus on its side, bent in the middle like it's been squeezed like a used can of soda. She's lands opposite me and gives me a smile that's somewhere between 'typical' and 'sorry you're hurting'.
"Diana—"
"Your strategy isn't working. Let's get you out of here."
I wanna object, resist, but I'm too battered and beaten to say anything. She swings my arm over her shoulder and leaps. The wind screams in my face. My head spins so fast I might throw up. I black out.

When I come to, rushing water is the first thing I hear. I know it anywhere, the sound of solitude. I'm in the batcave. The metal operating table I lie on is cold against my skin. There she is, standing, observing all the screens I have to watch over my city. She's still in her combat gear. I wonder what kind of metal her armour is made from.
I try to sit up silently, but a groan escapes my lips. She strides over to me. I look at her.
"You've looked better." She admits.
I look down at my ribs, they've got a bandage across them and it smells like chemicals.
"I learnt a few things during my time here." She tells me.
"What are you doing here?"
She smiles. "You have a strange way of thanking me for saving your life."
I scoff and shake my head.
"You should be in Paris."
"You should be at a charity ball."
"Touché." I stand and she looks into my eyes. Her gaze is intense, it's too much. I almost feel unworthy of facing her. She's one of the good guys, me? I swing between good and vengeance. I turn to the screens.
"What a return for our deceased hero." She says.
"More zombie, less hero."
"He isn't Clark. Superman without Clark is just…" She's searching for the words, so I help her out.
"Bizarre. Evil. A tyrant?"
She gives me a look. "He's something..."
"Well, that 'something' is reckless. It's destroying the city and doing as he pleases."
"Reckless is normally your style."
I frown. "I bring people to justice."
"At your own expense. That's reckless in my books." Diana concludes.
I turn off the screens and study her.
"So, why are you really here?"
"He attacked a military base in Paris. I thought you might know what he was after."
"You thought wrong."
She goes for her lasso—I grip her arm. I know she can snap my wrist with the flick of her arm, but she lets me hold her.
"Touch me with that thing, and we are no longer friends."
"Aw, we're friends?" She quips.
"He's attacked nine bases in four days. That's all I know."
This seems to satisfy her. She shrugs me off and looks at the water.
"Look, someone brought him back and he's a maniac. If you have anything to share, please go ahead."
"I'm not sure yet."
"That isn't an answer. You either have something to share, or not."
She looks at me for a moment, and I can see it in her eyes. As if she's realising she crossed a line by being here.
"I should go."
"Diana, I said you're a friend. I meant it."
She looks at me but now her face is a mess of pity and sympathy.
"Look at the state you're in, Bruce. You can't even be kind to yourself, how will you be a friend to me?"
She strides away and there's nothing I can say to stop her from going. I run my hands over my aching head and slump into the chair.

Diana

Once I make it to my apartment, I remove my combat gear and pull on my nightgown. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I climb out of my window and up the black metal fire escape until I get to the rooftop. I've come to enjoy wine. It barely affects me but I like having something to sip.
I peer out over Gotham city. It's gloomier than Metropolis, Paris and many others but it has a charm. All cities have their own charms, like people, and stories. How was Clark revived? Why is he evil?
What do all the bases have in common? And it hits me, Lexcorp. Lexcorp funds them all or is somehow affiliated with them via projects. I'll meet with Lex Luthor tomorrow. Tonight, I'll do my research.
A cool breeze sends a chill along my neck. I narrow my eyes. Something doesn't feel right. I'm not alone—before I can react, I'm grabbed by the hair and tossed off the rooftop.
I hurtle toward the ground, and grip a street lamp, then swing myself around it and launch upward toward the roof. I'm half way there when a powerful blur tackles me out of the sky and we tumble through an alley.
I'm covered by his cloak. I whip it aside and punch him in the face. That's when I see his eyes. They contain flecks of red.
"Clark! Stop!" I order. He tightens his grip around my neck and bring my knee upward. He lets go of me and hovers above me.
"Stop. Getting. In. My. Way." He grunts. I swing my leg out and knock his feet out from under him. He crashes to the ground hard. His eyes are more red than blue now and I scramble away from him.
I need to buy time. He speeds toward me with a menacing expression. I raise my sheaths to protect myself but instead he flies upwards, away from me.
I can't let him get away like this. I launch after him, we speed through the skies. He flies downward and weaves in and out of buildings, but I keep up. He's met his match.
He suddenly turns around and nosedives toward me. He slams me into a wall and pins my arms above my head. I struggle against him. Our strength cancels each other out. It's more frustrating for him than for me. He seethes as he stares into my defiant gaze. And for a fleeting moment, I think the red vanishes and his eyes soften. He shakes his head and they're red again.
"What's happening to you?!" I demand. "You're better than this!"
He tightens his grip on my arm, if I wasn't wearing my sheaths he would crush my wrists. He pulls me closer to him and after glaring into my eyes for a moment, he flings me aside. It's only as bricks land around me and dust fills the air that I realise he threw me into a building.
I stagger to my feet. He smirks at me, then flies away.