Title: Come Cryin' To Me

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics, Donna Troy, Wonder Woman, or Batman.

"When you're tired of it all and tears need to fall, your back's to the wall, come cryin' to me…You don't have to be strong, you don't have to hold on, you've been there too long, come cryin' to me" - Lonestar

Flashback

He was always there for her.

Sometimes, she wasn't sure how he managed it or even if she cared. All she knew was that whenever she needed him, he was there, letting her cling to him as she sobbed out her grief, cloaking her in the darkness and the shadows that always seemed another part of who he was, of how he thought of himself.

The darkness wrapped around her just as surely as his arms, but she couldn't feel it in the comfort and warmth of his arms, secure and safe no matter the turmoil and sorrow that had entered her life when she had learned of the death of her sister, the unassailable grief that was being rained out on the Kevlar of his uniform. Her mind felt shadowed, hazy, but she knew enough to realize that he was being unbelievably patient, holding her in a rare moment of true weakness for both of them, allowing their emotions to spring free in the harsh reality of the moment.

She had lost her sister today, lost the woman that the world knew by so many names – Donna Troy, Wonder Girl – but names didn't matter. To Diana, she was simply a sister, in more than the tradition of the Amazons, a piece of her soul, a piece of her heart, and a friend in so many meanings of the word.

And that light had been stripped from Diana's world, bringing her into the arms of the man who knew about the darkness, who knew how to survive when the lady known as fate threw out her worst. He had picked up the shattered pieces of his life so many years ago, reforging it and making that boy into the man that he was now, the urban legend that roamed the streets of Gotham in an effort to protect and harbor those in the city that had taken his parents away from him, to prevent others from suffering that same sense of loss.

That shattering sense of loss, the aching heart that felt barren and empty.

He knew what it was to lose, to face the deaths of those closest, and to continue in whatever form, whether vigilante or ambassador, whatever role suited and fit. There were many that would say that he didn't care, that since that night so long ago, he had never cared. But she knew differently. It wasn't that he didn't care; it was that he couldn't help but care. And for some, like the Batman, that kind of depth of emotion ran so deep that it scared, that they had to shut themselves off in order to stay sane, stay alive and in control.

He was the strongest man that she knew, but also the weakest. His mind gave him strengths that she couldn't even comprehend, that tactical analytical brain always searching out the foibles, the discrepancies, and the reasons behind the logical and the illogical. Sometimes, it was like watching a computer, his brain turned around information so quickly, processed everything so easily, spitting out facts and plans without conscious effort.

But emotions couldn't be processed, couldn't be simply digested and dealt with appropriately, and that gave him considerable pause, considerable difficulty in opening his heart and understanding what lay within.

Today, though, he had allowed his heart to open just a sliver and consented to let her inside, to allow her access to the inner recesses that had for so long been denied her. And it had all begun with a question, with the death of her beloved sister.

After her alleviation of Superman's guilt, she had walked outside, watching him fly off into the air in a flash of red and blue, barely feeling the breeze on her cheeks as she'd walked out in the tiny courtyard, knowing that he would be there, clinging to the shadows, but still there.

Striding forward to the low wall that enclosed the courtyard, she spoke softly, seeing a flash of cape in the darkness that lay behind her. "He feels responsible somehow."

"Do you?" he murmured, his tone just as deep as ever, but somehow, less brusque, more caring, with a depth to it that was rare for this illusive and enigmatic man.

Curling her arms tightly around herself, striving for warmth, she answered, "I should have been there to protect her. I should've sensed that she needed me."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his movements, she watched him come up to her side, giving the simple comfort of his presence that had become so vital to her, no matter that at that point they had been only what could have been termed friends, albeit close friends. "She was my sister," she murmured, working desperately for control, her throat tightening with every word, every emotion that clogged her airway. She gazed around at the darkness, the perfect setting for the grief that was threatening to tear her apart. She could barely see the beauty that shone through the shadows of the courtyard, her eyes welling as she looked up into the strong, harshly lit face, his lips unmoving, his eyes hidden by the cowl, but his mere presence lending her…everything.

And with that, Diana could no longer hold back. Collapsing into herself, she allowed the tears to overflow, to stream down the cheeks that lay pale in the moonlight and ashen with grief. Hands wiping ineffectually at the pale traces that were spilling down, she was surprised but barely able to comprehend his actions fully when he wrapped the billowy cape around her, securely pulling her into his arms and letting her grief pour into his Kevlar covered chest.

"She was a part of my soul," she murmured into the darkness…

-

To be continued…

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