The Present

Zatana couldn't stop laughing. Her long, raven curls cascaded down her shoulders and swayed while her eyes shined with tears as she doubled over, shoulders shaking as she clutched at her arms and tried to contain her, at least salvage some of her composure that had long ago left, taken with her laughter.

"—and then, he comes up to me, and goes, "Wait a second, these aren't the ones that you gave me!" But I had to go along with it or else it wouldn't have been around, y'know? So anyways—" Wally gesticulated wildly, giving her a rather crude recreation of the incident he spoke of.

Bruce's eyes narrowed from where he stood at the overlook at the command, as he passed the overview of the virus they had found and the synopsis of his and Palmer's findings, the leather of his gloves turning taut as he found a grip upon the folder in his hands with more force than was necessary. It was as if he couldn't rip his gaze away from the two of them, Zatana and Wally, down by the 'porter, talking at a corridor entrance.

How long had they been talking? And why did she look like she was enjoying it so much? Were they going out? Bruce hadn't been informed of this.

"—man. Batman."

Bruce found his attention diverted and glanced away from them to J'onn, who had his hand on the folder and was waiting for Bruce to let go, his brow arched.

Bruce silently let go, unwilling to apologize for his err in attention and turned away.

"You should be able to find everything in there that you need. Send it down to S.T.A.R Labs and tell me when they receive it." He said, acting as if there had been no disturbance and refocusing on business, not her smile nor the proximity of their closeness, nor how Wally had extended an arm to tuck away a lock of hair that had fallen and blocked her vision, not how she had allowed him to, of all things, not how she had smiled—

"Bruce." J'onn had said, the folder in his hand, at his side, and Bruce paused. J'onn never referred to him as Bruce unless he had heard something, and quickly assumed the theme of Habanera in his head, full strings and cymbals and creeping, crescendo of a symphony in his head as he turned back to his teammate, obscuring any revealing thoughts from J'onn.

"Is there something else we need to discuss?" Bruce intoned coldly, more callously than he had intended but enough that J'onn would be able to understand how the matter of his thoughts was a private, personal thing.

Of course, J'onn being J'onn…

The strings paused for a moment and then resumed, louder and louder as they grew in volume.

"Is there?" J'onn asked.

When Bruce had no response, he continued. "It is not a subtle thing, your attraction to Ms. Zatara…"

"It's also none of your concern as to whom I have any attraction to," Bruce nearly snapped at him, shoulders stiffening, but J'onn did not take any insult at this; this was Bruce on a good day, as the symphony in his head swelled and then declined in volume, plucking at strings with the utmost gentility, ready to rise once more.

"Then you should understand that neither is Wally's for her. But her emotions not easily swayed. She has chosen to remain faithful to one person."

"What are you getting at?" his voice was accusatory, irritated, ever-so-slightly desperate for an end to this conversation but eager for the information that J'onn had (not that he would admit to this).

"Just because she's decided to choose you over Wally for the time being does not mean she will wait forever." He replied, and then with a nod of respect for his peer, turned away and back to the panel of buttons and levers and whirring lights, ready to send the folder down to Earth.

For a moment, Bruce paused, and then turned away to leave, digesting what J'onn had told him, as he rounded a corridor and waited in front of a lift, back stiff and arms rigid at his side, and waited.

The door slid open with a gasp of air and revealed the woman that had been on Bruce's mind that J'onn had read of in his carefully catalogued thoughts, and one of the few women that could give him pause, as she did now as she regarded him from inside the lift.

"Oh, Bruce!" Zatana grinned in pleasant surprise as she stood in the lift, "I was wondering who made the lift go up like that."

"Hi, Zee." Was all Bruce said as he got in, inexpressive as ever, and she scooted to make room for him, so close that their hands were almost touching, that, should he so desire, he just had to reach out a hand so that he could hold hers, so that he could tuck away that pesky lock of hair as Wally had, to cup her cheek and tell her as he closed the distance between the two of them, after all, J'onn had said that she was waiting, after all, wasn't she—

"Bruce? Bruuuuce." Zatana waved a hand, a warning signal in front of his vision as he was once more roused from his thoughts, and he turned to look down at her, at those bright eyes, those plump red lips, those bright, dusted pink cheeks, and admire her beauty.

"Yes?" he asked, and she giggled. "I thought you had been daydreaming. Something on your mind?"

She crossed her arms and she arched an eyebrow, daring him to disagree with her; she simply knew him too well.

"No." he lied, and she scoffed, tilting her head so that the irksome lock of hair over her eye dropped past, rescinding his opportunity to brush it away, not that he would have. He couldn't find the audacity as Wally could to put it away, and he mentally cursed himself, his mind a battleground yet his body immovable and silent as Zatana watched.

"Yes." He replied, after another moment, and Zatana smirked triumphantly.

"Well, go ahead. You can tell me." She said, and she shifted her weight to one leg, so that her hip popped out, as she placed a hand on it, her fingers brushing the fishnets on her thigh, the motion not escaping Bruce.

Oh, she knew. She did that deliberately. He fought the urge to smirk at her nerve.

"I need to tell you something." He said, and she nodded, the smile growing on her face. "I think we've established that. What is it?"

She moved closer, and the intimacy of the closeness that they assumed was natural, as she picked away a fleck of dust on his cape and flicked it away, and then looked back to him.

"Zee…" he said, using his old nickname for her, one well-practiced and well-loved by the two of them, and the distance between their faces grew closer, as he leaned down to relinquish the words that had suddenly become so close to becoming reality, the words that fought and struggled to escape yet would not, would not, for the life of him.

"That's my name, don't wear it out." She grinned, and the smallest of smiles found its way onto Bruce's face.

"It never will. Not for me." He admitted, and she chuckled, a soft, quiet laugh, just as genuine as the one she had given Wally.

"So, are we just going to stare at each other all day, or are you actually going to tell me something?" she joked, and they were just inches away from each other, he could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume, like flowers in summer and bright as day.

"I don't see you complaining." Bruce replied.

"True." She smiled, not moving her gaze from his. They were so close, his body heat just radiated from him and Zatana could have closed the distance with a kiss, oh, she so desperately wanted to, she wanted to so bad, why couldn't Bruce know? Why couldn't he do it himself?

Men.

"I need you to know—" Bruce began, finding the willpower and the well crafted eloquence to reveal well-hidden secrets, and the distance between them nearly closed as the elevator door slid open, silently but enough to reveal an unwanted presence, if not one of the most intruding.

"Oh." Clark said, taking in the propinquity of the two of them and hesitated, taking an unconscious step back. "Am I intruding?"

"No, not at all." Bruce said with the sarcasm and blatant lie mingling with the absolute insensitive tone he replied with to Clark, as Zatana flushed and looked past him to see the number of the floor they were on.

"Oh, this is my floor." She said, her disappointment betraying her, and she turned back to Bruce, trying to keep a firm, placid expression, those plump red lips pursing.

"Sorry, Bruce. Maybe next time." She said, and Bruce couldn't help but feel the overwhelming sense of loss as she said so, as she took his hand for a moment and squeezed lovingly, and then let go, allowing it to swing to his side. She turned away, with a sway of her hips, to slide past Clark, who moved out her way as she descended down the hall, removing her top hat and letting it dangle in the grip of her right hand.

Clark sidled into the shaft next to Bruce and the door closed, cutting off his view of Zatana with a hiss of closing doors and then a minor jolt as they descended downwards.

There was an awkward, tangible moment as Clark was unsure of how to broach the subject as to just what it was he intruded upon, though it seemed fairly obvious.

"So, Bruce…you and Zatana?" Clark asked, turning to look at him with that innocent naïveté that seemed so readily available to him.

"We've known each other for years." Was all Bruce said, and Clark responded with a quiet "Ah" and folded his hands in front of him, remaining silent.

She will not wait forever.

J'onn's words seemed like a slap in the face to him at that exact moment, and he cursed Clark and his innocence and his damn interruptions to hell. At this rate, he would never be able to iterate his thoughts and she would be lost to him. He could never let that happen. Not as long as he had breath or fight in his system.

Damn.

The chorus to Habanera, within his head, struck a final chord and echoed away into nothingness.