Title: Alternate Universe Meme.
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League Unlimited or any other DC universe, continuity, whatever.
Summary: Write a drabble for each prompt given. Try and use the characters you feel most comfortable writing for. Enjoy the ride. Rated R just in case.
Warnings: Some of the drabbles are consistent with the actual JLU storyline, some are completely out there. Pairings will be odd, but so what, nobody likes to have fun anymore and diversity is a good thing.

This is written in dedication to Jarreditus, not only for a late Christmas gift, but for his endless patience and confidence in me. You're a saint, Rebound Man!

1.) Dove/Hawk/Wonder Woman
2.) Vigilante/Green Arrow/Vixen
3.) Star Sapphire/Giganta/Captain Atom
4.) Mercy Graves/Renee Montoya/Question
5.) Colonel Flag/Devil Ray/Black Canary
6.) Shining Knight/Jason Blood/Batgirl
7.) Harley Quinn/Atomic Skull
8.) Flash/Killer Frost/Parasite
9.) Tala/Lex Luthor/Huntress
10.) Deadshot/Superman/Batman

Seven finds Three all alone at a roadside diner:

Stepping inside the tiny little double-wide diner precariously situated near the interstate that led to or from Coast City, all about bar stools painted red and clear windows that showcased the blizzard going on outside that she had just come in from hitch-hiking in, Harley shook the loose snow off of her black leather jacket. Some ice was sticking to the bottom of her denim jeans, but she didn't mind that, seeing as it would melt and dribble across her combat boots as soon as she took a seat and ordered something.

Stepping up to the counter, her bright blue eyes looked about the place and noted the double set of couples near the back touching and kissing, a group of fly boys laughing about something near the door she had entered and the one lonely looking woman sitting with her hot coffee at the counter. It interested Harley that the woman was so out of place in what seemed like such a happy environment, with a couple of Christmas wreathes hanging in the window and tinsel strung up along the occasional table or stool.

It was so interesting that Harley couldn't help but take the stool right next to her.

"Anything good to order in this place?"

Not bothering to look up from her coffee, as though the little serving would reveal to her all of the secrets of the universe, the brunette smirked as handed Harley her menu, "The coffee is all that I can stomach, but the apple pie can be good if the cook's in the right mood."

"You sound like you've been here before," the bouncy blond acknowledged, accepting the menu, "You come here often?"

"It's right across where I work, so pretty much every day. You?"

"Nah, just passing by on my way to the air force's flight testing base. Supposed to get a job there tomorrow and I had to walk all the way here from freakin' Metropolis after my now ex-boyfriend kicked me out of the car."

At the mention of the testing base, the brunette looked up from her coffee and actually gave the other a once over, brow rising, "Which base?"

"Uh," Harley raised her hand to draw attention to the waitress, ordering one hazelnut coffee and some pie as an afterthought, "Lantern Air. Know it?"

"I work there, as one of the pilots. They call me Miss Sapphire. What's your position?"

"I'm a pilot, too," Harley smiled, "Professionally everyone calls me Quinn, but off duty everyone calls me Harley. Nice to meet'cha."

Four is doing laundry with One:

"Orange socks?"

Removing the stray bits and pieces of lint or receipts for his food from all the fast order and delivery restaurants he went to from a pair of his jeans, Question (well, actually, since he was in civilian wear, it was more appropriate to call him Vic) looked over towards the light weight washing machines and at Don Hall. The young blond man was holding up the secretive, mentally questionable heroes' socks of the aforementioned color, eyebrows tilted in the upward direction.

Turning back to the matter of his jean pockets, Vic shrugged his shoulder half-heartedly, "Yeah, so what?"

"Do these even go with anything you wear?" Don coaxed, putting a pinch of powdered detergent into the socks before promptly plopping them in with his own set of white, checkered and blue ones.

"Never really cared. My socks don't even reach my ankles, why should I care what color they are."

It was stated as a question, but came out as a simple statement. Don couldn't help but grin at Vic's logic, and made his way over to the brunette, arms wrapping around his torso and head nuzzling into the older man's neck.

"A rebel all the way, I take it."

"Hm."

Ten is Five's taxi driver:

"So what's so important that you can't even get your head straight enough to walk into that office, give those stuck up bastards a piece of your mind and quit on the spot? It's not like you need the money."

"That isn't the point," Flag sighed, running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

Floyd turned around in his seat, the taxi narrowly missing a fire hydrant and causing Flag to cringe noticeably in his seat, hugging his briefcase to his chest like it would protect him from the crash that would most likely come from this, "Then what is the point, because I'm just not seeing it!"

"Can you see the road?"

"What? Oh, right, sorry."

"Thank you."

"But seriously, why keep going if it makes you so miserable?"

"Gives me the opportunity to take your damn cab every morning and night?"

"Ha, funny."

Nine hates the country, Two tries to make them feel better:

"Aaaaaiiiiiii!"

Jumping up from where she was putting gas into her girlfriend's motorcycle, Vixen was met with the rather amusing sight of Huntress tumbling out of the interstate's rest area. Once out, the Italian woman started batting at her hair and clothes, fingers running through her hair as if to remove something; her legs were doing a sort of jitterbug action, heals clicking the ground and making her look quite completely like a lunatic that would put the Joker and Creeper to shame.

"Helena?" Mari voiced, putting the gas tank back onto the bike's carrier and approached the freaked out woman. She tried not to smile, but it was hard.

"Bugs!" Helen finally snapped, bending over to get her sunglasses that had fallen off during her little scene, "Hundreds of them stuffed in that disgusting pit! Red ants, wasps, bees, crickets! Why can't the state afford to clean these places, why? So disgusting!"

Giggling, Mari walked into the rest area, a glint in her eyes, "Maybe I should collect a few for our dinner tonight?"

"You're so gross."

"But, you love me anyway."

"Not if you eat any of those things and I kiss you, I won't."

Six and Ten are genderbent and at work:

Creeping through the shadows of Gotham's Crime Alley, Batboy followed after his boss and partner, Batwoman. They had been out for the last five hours looking for some very slimy, very dangerous arms dealers and were getting pretty frustrated. Well, actually, it was more like Batboy was frustrated and showing were his glowers and huffs. Batwoman still had yet to make any noise or actions to reveal her current emotions, as usual.

The long red ponytail he had wavered with the breeze as they both jumped onto another building, their capes making similar motions as Batwoman pointed to a pair of grimy gargoyles and seated herself on the back of one. Her sleek figure always looked so out of place to him in these settings, no matter how many patrols they had been on together since she had accepted his offer to help clean up Gotham. She was too gorgeous to be walking out in the dark and it humbled his to be in her presence at any such time that they were together.

But, he would never admit he had a crush. He would admit to an attraction, but not a crush.

Four is planning One's wedding to Eight:

Walking up and down the aisles, carefully surveying over every gown and linen train that followed after it, Mercy, with ease and motion as if she had done this all before, picked out four that would be a possibility to give to Diana, Princess of the Amazons, but put one particular one into a side room. One that was all white, save for an embroidered set of red and blue roses on the back of the train.

She still had about an hour to choose a tux for Mr. West, but that would be easy enough. It would be black, but the undershirt would be a nice red that matched Diana's embroidered flowers. Mercy had seen it fifteen minutes ago, but her main priority was for the princess. It was always the woman's special day, after all.

Opening her briefcase, ever present with her when she was away from Luthor, the dishwater blonde haired woman got out her list and checked off a few things, including Dress, Tux and Veil. She liked crossing through the words, it made her feel accomplished with each motion. It made her feel useful.

She still didn't quite understand why the two of them had chosen her to plan their wedding, what with her boss usually hell bent on destroying them and their teammates, but she had to admit that she was actually quite suited to do this. After spending most of her existence looking after Lex, his phony charity auctions, his wardrobe, she had developed the ability to completely visualize what something should look like for any occasion.

As such, the wedding was doing quite well. After she met with the soon to be bride and groom, she would be off to get the flowers and choose the linen for the ceremony and reception. The princess didn't know the first thing about planning a wedding, nor had Flash, so Mercy had been left to choose everything, only being told to be careful with price.

Putting the dresses, in their hangers, in a carefully chosen line-up, Mercy nodded to herself and clicked open her cellphone, her red nails flashing quickly over the numbers, "Hello? Mr. West? Yes, it's Mercy. Could you bring Miss Diana to Winter Harmony's Dressing Gown department store? Yes, I think I've got the perfect choices for you two. Alright, I'll see you—"

Clicking her phone shut, Mercy gave a knowing smile when she was met by a slight breeze and the sight of the Flash carrying Wonder Woman and coming to a stop a few feet before the chauffer, grinning like mad.

"Here," Mercy finished, taking Diana's hand as Flash put her onto her own two feet, the Amazon sleeking her hair back as it had become windswept.

Nine saves a spider from Seven:

Purple energy ran through her hand and down her pointer finger as Tala took aim and fired a little jolt of energy at Atomic Skull, causing the flaming cage fighter to be jostled forward and out of the stance he had been in to crush a little Daddy Longleg that had scurried into his path in the Secret Societies' halls. It was rather humorous, but Tala ignored it in favor of shooing the spider away. She didn't even smile when Skull stood up from where he had landed on his ass, groaning.

"Why must you bother the arachnids around here," the sorceress asked indignantly, hands on her hips, "What do they do to you?"

"I—" Skull stuttered, looking at the woman like she was an even bigger freak than everyone claimed her to be, "I was only doing it because I thought you would start screaming the minute you saw the thing!"

"Well don't do that, because I happen to like spiders."

"But-but-but you're a woman!" Skull said rather desperately, waving his arms like he was drowning and she was describing the water, "Woman always tell men to kill creepy-crawlies!"

"Most women," Tala pointed out, turning on her heal to leave Atomic Skull confused.

Two tries to give Three a bath as Three is a cat:

"C'mon Captain," Ollie soothed as well as he could, stepping into the shower's spray of water while still in his boxers and top. The water made the fabric stick to him unpleasantly, sort of like sand on the beach, but this was the best way to handle giving his silver tomcat a wash.

Growling lowly in his throat, Captain Atom continued to dig his claws into the now sopping white tank top, but the claws didn't prick Ollie. The water was unpleasant, but after a few minutes, the cat actually calmed enough to stop tensing up and let his owner pick up the anti-flea shampoo from the side of the tub.

Squirting a little of the pink stuff from the bottle, not much bigger than an Oreo cookie, the blond man continued to hold Atom to his chest, but carefully applied the shampoo, running it up and down silver fur as though he was just petting him. The ingredients that caused it to foam started to work its magic and sneak passed the layer of fur meant to protect Atom from any moisture, helping the poor creature feel the warm water.

Within a few minutes and a couple of rubs to the ears later, Captain Atom resigned to his fate entirely and even started purring into Ollie's big chest. This is turn caused Mr. Queen to smile and knead his fingers around the fur of the cat's neck, loosening muscles often stiff because of the collar he had to wear.

Six finds Eight in only a thong stuck in the bathroom:

Setting her drink down on the tray one of the catering staff so helpfully held out before her, Barbara made her way to the ladies/men's room. She had been sweating for the last two hours in the ungodly stifling black dress she had been made to wear at the charity auction both Bruce and her father had made her attend and by god she was going to freshen up!

Entering into the room, seven stalls set up in a nice and neutral beige color to accent the red painted walls, Barbara made sure the door was shut and nobody was going to come in at any time before making her way to the seven sinks. She absently wondered where the attendee for these sort of things had gone off to, but dismissed thinking more into it as she undid the top three button of her dress.

Grabbing one of the little towels she often and usually only saw in hotels for people to steal, she turned on the faucet and ran cold water over it. The feeling of the water felt good against her fingers, but felt even better as she dabbed the cloth against her chest. That was pure heaven.

Doing so again, this time under her bra, her good mood was suddenly brought to a halt as she heard someone curse from within the stalls, followed rather closely by some banging that she could only guess was the person's fist meeting the wall. Then to be followed by more cursing.

Turning on her heal at how familiar the voice doing the cursing sounded, the redhead stood just beside the stall and gave it a little tap, "Um, excuse me, but are you alright in there?"

"…Babs?"

"Wally? What are you doing in there?"

"Um, kind of a funny story," The Flash chuckled with no actual amusement in his voice, "You remember that reporter I brought with me here?"

"Linda, you mean."

"Yes. Anyway, she offered me one of the best nights of my life in here, and since I haven't gotten any in, like, weeks, I agreed wholeheartedly. And, well, one thing led to another and she tells me to take my clothes off and—"

"Wally!" Barbara blushed, giving the door a good kick with her knee.

"Don't worry! I didn't have sex with her. Actually, she kinda walked out after stealing all of my clothes, including my shoes…"

Raising a brow at the statement and biting her tongue so she wouldn't laugh at the image, the Commissioner's daughter tried to sound caring and sympathetic, "So, basically, you're naked."

"…Well, no. Not exactly…"

"Wally, if you're not naked, than what? She at least left you your underwear?"

"Ah, no….She left me hers."

Unable and unwilling to take the man at face value, Barbara opened the door to one of the adjacent stalls and stood on the toilet. There upon, she looked over the wood barrier of his stall, only to see he was speaking the truth.

The Flash, Wally West, sat on the toilet in nothing but a red lace thong with a big black and yellow ribbon on the front, blushing and suddenly in terror at the Joker-similar smile Batgirl wore as she made to get her cell out of her pocket.

Five is in the middle of a mass panic attack and Four and Nine try and help out:

Black Canary stayed in the sort of bear hug Huntress had her sitting in and accepted the paper bag given to her by detective Montoya.

The cop from Gotham gave the blond woman a little pat on the shoulder as she tried to breath, the bag flattening or expanding with her breaths and Huntress resting her head on her fellow fighter's shoulder.

Nothing had brought it on. A panic attack sometimes just happened when people like them, in such high pressure states of living, went out into the world and experienced their everyday activities. And Dinah was really no exception. She may go up against meta-human bad guys and extraterrestrial threats of the worst kind, but when told that her boyfriend was in critical condition at a county ER because he was bringing her the new motorcycle he had promised to replace the one she'd lost in a head-on collision with a train, well, that was just too much.

Two is a dog, Seven is a cat:

Curious and more than a little annoyed at the noise coming from outside of his fence, Vigilante, a large black dog with hound and collie characteristics, butted the handle that kept the gate shut and quietly padded out into the alley.

Even more annoyed at the sight of his master Justin's trash strewn out along the sidewalk and street pavement, Vigilante growled a little and was about to start barking for whoever was in his territory to get lost. Then, and rather unexpectedly, the sounds coming from inside the trashcan stopped and he was met by a pair of rather dazzling blue eyes. It was a little amber blonde stray cat, hair raised at the sight of him and what looked like a half-eaten jelly donut in her mouth.

Not exactly one to beat up on a feline that looked so skinny and scared that he'd seen around the block a few times, Vigilante found himself stopping in his tracks, speaking calmly to her, "You really won't find much in their miss tabby cat. Justin eats most of his food or gives it to me."

"Beggars can't be choosers," the pussy cat, Harley if he remembered correctly, shrugged. She picked up the food she had found and made her way out of the can. Once she was within touching range of the dog, her tail batted his nose, causing him to sneeze.

"Excuse you," Harley smirked.

Giving a snort, Vigilante got up and walked beside the feline. If anyone were to walk by, they'd be quite amused at the sight of a dog his size being friendly (though he was friendly to everyone) to a cat that tiny. He didn't mind though, he liked her the few times they'd spoken since she'd come into the neighborhood to get away from her abusive owner.

"Are you alright, little lady? I haven't seen you around the place lately," Vigilante asked politely, eyeing the fresh bite and scratch marks all up along her back and front legs.

"Oh, I've just been going through the usual," she answered, lowering her head ashamedly as they both knew what she meant. The usual for her mostly pertained to her getting chased out of other cats' territories or running from her ex. It was very rare to see her without some sort of injury and Vigilante had a feeling she didn't have a day go by when bruises weren't forming all along her body.

Bowing his head as well, the large black dog thought a little and then, rather spontaneously, he picked Harley up by the scruff and made for the doggie door stationed at the back of his house. She didn't really appreciate it, though. She even dropped her food to his indignantly.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Taking you to get some food," he answered, "Justin's home and he has a soft spot for all the girls I bring home."

Going limp as they went through the door, Harley couldn't help but say, "All the girls?"

"Er, I, uh—n-not like that!"

Three picks Ten up, a la 'Pretty Woman':

Steering her very expensive red Camero along the side street, Sapphire finally found someone and leaned out the window, eyeing the man that could have been a catch, had he not been in such a place like this.

"Um, excuse me," she called, getting the man to turn around and show off a nicely sculpted set of abs as he was carrying his button-down shirt over his shoulder to ward off the summer heat, "Do you know the way to the Rainbow Room?"

"I could," he started, taking a seat on top of her car's hood, "For twenty bucks."

Feeling already quite frazzled after wandering around this hell hole for the last hour, Sapphire stuttered a little and said in a tight voice, "You can't charge people for directions!"

He laughed at that, hopping off of the car to stand in front of her door, "I can charge whatever I want baby, I ain't lost."

Huffing a little at such logic, Sapphire conceded and got into her side compartment and pulled a crisp twenty dollar bill from its confines. When she looked back up, however, she was confronted with a big silver cannon of a gun pointed directly at her, the man smirking at the face she made.

"Get out of the car, honey, and nobody gets hurt."

Rolling her eyes at how damn cavalier he was about car-jacking her, she sighed, but did as she was told, unfastening her seatbelt. But, as she was opening the door he shook his head.

"Actually, get in the other seat. I've always wanted to visit the Rainbow Room."

One fishes Six out of the river in winter:

Dark russet red hair flew up in all directions under the water as Hank latched onto Sir Justin's wrist.

If he had a moment to look around, he would have seen the little baubles of frozen air and ice dancing around his head from where the two superheroes had impacted into the less than sturdy iced over river, or even the small groupings of fish strong enough to live in this unbearable cold swimming about and watching them, but no. He was much to occupied with pulling the Arthurian knight up to the light of day. If only the blond didn't have to wear that enchanted armor out in the field, then it would be so much easier to haul him up.

And that was saying something. Hawk could bend and break titanium, but it was this stupid armor that weighed about as much as a Kevlar vest that hindered their progress to the surface and oxygen.

Gritting his teeth, the younger man brought his right arm around Justin's torso and without waiting for anything else to go wrong, hitched his body, both of their bodies, up to the surface.

He would have to remember to thank Don later for making him try out for the swim team this year instead of Football. Not out loud of course, but maybe a box of those gross all natural health drinks and a Neanderthal grunt would do the trick and he wouldn't have to go into details about how he had been out to go fishing in an out of the way hut on a river that hadn't received the OK from the fishing committee.

But, he would think about that later. Now that they had gotten to the surface, the knight wasn't breathing and now Hank had to think of a way to do mouth to mouth, on the spot, with no pep talk to remind him that he was saving someone's life and just because his mouth was pressed to another man's didn't mean he was gay.

Five and Eight are stuck in an elevator:

Neck making a rather uncomfortable motion that was often associated with whiplash, Killer Frost stared up at the flickering lights above her and Devil Ray's head and tried not to think that it might be connected to how the elevator stopped in-between the first and second floor of the Secret Society's headquarters. That would be unacceptable. She was not going to be stuck in an elevator with the jerk who had just last week been making passes at her. Not because Luthor blew out the power to the generator again!

Moving for the little red button often kept in elevators that let the outside world know that the people inside the metal boxes needed help, Killer Frost pressed on the button about seven times. Each time came with an angry buzzing noise that irritated her, but didn't make any difference to Devil Ray as he just seemed content to stand with his arms crossed and his back leaning on the wall even if the metal box started shaking and they plummeted to their doom.

Not all that likely for super-villains, but still, that's how the blue skinned woman felt.

As she made to press the button again, the intercom crackled to life, Giganta's prissy voice echoing in the metal carrier as if it was a subway instead of a five-by-ten.

"Sorry for any inconvenience to whoever's in the elevators. Lex blew out the generator and we won't be able to fix it until he stops chasing Atomic Skull around with his laser gun. Give it about an hour or two. Tala will give the next up-date as I have to go now before Lex blows up the control deck, too. Bye."

Allowing a moment of shock to settle in the tiny place, Killer Frost couldn't help how every hair on her body stood up as Devil Ray chuckled, "Wanna have sex to pass the time?"

"I hate you."

"I'm not too fond of you either," the dark skinned man continued, moving from his place to lean into her, arms wrapping around her much, much slimmer frame like a pair of well muscles tree branches or snakes, "But you don't have to like someone to have sex with them. Best sex I ever had was with women who hated me."

Her mind sort of went blank as one of his hands made for the bottom of her suit, carefully working around that part of her anatomy that made her shudder like she could still feel the cold, and his other hand wrapped around her chin and inserted his pointer finger into her mouth to stifle a moan.

Nine is a journalist and Ten picks up coffee before leaving to scout leads:

Getting out from the elevator was quite a trick to accomplish if you didn't want to spill your coffee, but somehow, Clark managed it. For both coffees.

In his usual good spirits, the reporter and fact checker from Smallville made for the office he shared, but rarely occupied at the same time with his partner at the Daily Planet. Just because he was always fresh and awake in the morning didn't mean his partner was and that was why the brunette carried the triple shot espresso carefully. He'd need every drop of it if he wanted to stay alive awake he would no doubt have to wake his bald companion.

Noticing the blinds to the office were drawn and the general aura it set off was quite dark, Clark took a steadying breath before opening the door.

Once in the dark room, the country boy smiled at the sound of snores muted by arms wrapped around the head of Lex Luthor. The bald man's head rested on his desk, and subsequently, the papers he had been writing up the evening before. Clark winced a little as he took note that Lex was also resting on a ringed notebook, the metal pressing into the other man's cheek and forehead.

One is a slave and Three is a ruler of the castle:

"Why are you doing this?"

Looking up from untying the striking ebony haired woman's hands, Giganta smiled kindly, knowing full well that what she was doing would seem quite strange to someone who had spent their life being mistreated by the aristocracy.

"Because, even a commoner knows that you treat a lady like a lady," the redhead explained, the bindings completely slack in her hands as Diana blinked and rose unsteadily to her feet, "Even if she does come from a brothel or the street."

Still rather unsure of herself, Diana stood perfectly still, absently looking at the fine tapestries and tall white vases that littered the manor, all grand and beautiful. Rather and just like her knew master—er, mistress. That was the proper way to address the woman who owned her now. Mistress.

"Come along now," Giganta spoke again, taking the red shawl from around her own neck and placing it upon the other's malnourished, but sturdy looking shoulders, "You've had a long journey. I'll take you to the baths we have here. You'll like it, it's the size of professional baths they have at the forum. But, of course, there will be no men to bother you."

Blue eyes blinked in a sort of odd astonishment at being treated so well by this strange woman who had thought to buy Diana. This sort of thing was so out of the ordinary to her, she wasn't sure if she should be terribly frightened of what was to come, or welcome how destiny had turned over her luck.

Eight crash lands on an island, Six has been there for years:

Rudy jumped from rock to rock, trying to mimic Jason's movements to the letter so he wouldn't fell over the side of the mountain and into the ocean or, god forbid onto, the rocks below. The remains of the parachute that saved his life ruffle and make sleek slithering noises inside his pack, along with the little clinking sounds that come from his lucky rabbit's foot on the chain attached to his jeans.

"So, uh," the rather bulky man started off, the silence the man had remained in so long creeping him out tremendously, "How long how you been here?"

"…I'm not exactly sure," Jason spoke, eyes a little wide at realizing how rough his voice had gotten after not using it in such a long time to do anything but scare away the island's wild animals, "Last count, I think it was three, but for all I know, it's been five or six. You don't really keep track after you whittle four sticks down to nothing. And those weren't exact, anyway. It could be less. I'm not exactly sure."

The fact that the man had no idea how long he had been on this small piece of lonely rock and tree did absolutely nothing to raise Rudy's spirits. If anything, it helped diminish them, like an extinguisher to a grease fire at his restaurant back home. Not a good feeling at all to have when only the other day he had barely survived his plane getting sucked into a funnel spout and somehow getting thrown into a mountain that had not been on his maps.

Jason's flicked his red hair from his eyes and looked back at the both sturdy but frail seeming man. He hadn't meant to make him worry more, but he couldn't help it. He had been a pessimist before being marooned on the island, his social skills would not have improved at all since then.

Ten ripped off Seven's arm:

There was a certain kind of numbness that came with moments like these. It was never really the same, and the numbness came in episodes few and far between. For that, at least, Bruce was glad, but it still came with the occasion of right now.

He wasn't sure if he should even be in the ever sterile and clean environment of the Watchtower medical ward, not with what he had done, but he found that he couldn't leave, either. He had been there since the occupant of the bed in front of him had been put there and he hadn't moved, or really shown many signs of life, since then.

White lenses stayed focused on the young (funny how now that he saw her without all that makeup she really seemed young) woman, still asleep on and because of all the pain killers Batman had made sure the staff of doctors had given her. Her arm, now all clean and stitched and covered up in gauze and that rather archaic looking brace she was made to stay in for quite some time, had just half a day ago been ripped out by his grapple wire and then in his hands along with the rest of her very bloody body as he had J'onn transport them up to the Watchtower.

The Martian had been there to meet him on the transport deck, along with Clark and for that, he had been grateful, but he still couldn't get over how they had looked at him. He was covered in her blood from both the arm that he was holding like some simple piece of meat in the wrong hand and the ripped and mutilated stub of her shoulder. She was white as death even under the makeup, and he looked even more like a demon than he had built himself up to look like. They had looked at him like he had gone insane and snapped and he couldn't blame them.

When she had been in surgery (with the best doctors the League had, plus Dr. Fate to lend aid) and he had been in the observing room watching behind the glass, Clark had hovered in, in that sickeningly sentimental and kind way he did whenever a crisis had happened and been dealt with, and put a hand on the Dark Knight's shoulder.

The Boy Scout said it wasn't Bruce's fault. Bruce called him a liar.