TITLE: Spark
AUTHOR: LOTSlover
CHARACTERS: Batman / Wonder Woman
RATING: T
WARNINGS: Author Chooses Not to Use Warnings
DISCLAIMER: I love Justice League, but especially Batman and Wonder Woman. Unfortunately, I do not own the characters. If I did, things would be much different for them and Batman would be marrying his true love Diana.
SUMMARY: Spark: the light produced by a sudden discharge of electricity through air…anything that activates or stimulates.
Day One of Wonderbat Milestones, First Meeting. Set in DCEU. BMWW Bruce's POV.
Spark
A spark.
So benign and yet so potentially dangerous.
A spark from a fire can fizzle out, becoming inert…cold and lifeless. At the same time, if given the chance, it also has the potential to produce a flame, growing hotter and spreading like a wildfire.
There's a creative spark…watch the sparks fly…spark an idea…it only takes a spark to get a fire going.
I'd heard all the lines about experiencing a spark when eyes unexpectedly meet across a crowded room. That unexpected, sudden rush of instantaneous attraction, intense enough to cause a physical reaction like a quickening of the pulse or a skip of the heartbeat.
I'd never really believed in it, never so much as experienced it before in my life. In my mind, it ranked right up there with romantic notions such as soulmates, fated love, and happily-ever-after. It was never meant for someone such as myself. It was something that always happened to other people or was read about in fairytales as a child.
Don't get me wrong. I've experienced moments of attraction. There are times I've felt physical desire, and even had hints of what I believed to be real love, but nothing like what I had experienced when I first saw her that night.
I was on a mission to get information from Lex Luthor, knowing that I could gather far more as Bruce Wayne then I could as my terrifying alter ego. Arriving in the skin of the playboy, I had played the arrogant billionaire to my usual level of grandiose expertise, attracting the looks and attention that I typically garner when I attend events such as these and turning on the charm.
Standing in the midst of a crowd, I had been listening intently when I felt a pair of eyes focused on me, causing me to look up and to my right. A man shifted on his foot to his left, revealing a stunning woman in a deep claret red dress with her gaze locked squarely on me.
Our eyes met, and, in that instant, I felt that first spark that I'd heard about but never experienced for myself. My every thought and attention fully arrested as my brown eyes met hers. She was gazing intently at me with obvious appreciation for who I was, but there had also been something far more to that look…something that I wouldn't come to understand until later.
She held my gaze for a couple of heartbeats longer as if silently trying to ascertain some fact or convey some notion. Without a word, she turned her attention back to Lex Luthor and broke the connection with me. There was something about her, something fascinating to spark my interest.
It was the second look that had caused the feeling to solidify inside of me.
She firmly caught my attention once more as she walked past me and Clark Kent, her mahogany brown eyes meeting mine again and momentarily stealing my breath. "Wow…pretty girl," I murmured to the reporter, tilting my head in appreciation. "Bad habit…don't quote me on that, all right?"
After, I'd done everything in my power to get away from the reporter as quickly as I could in order to retrieve my device and the information contained on it. I also wanted to find the woman who had sparked something deep inside of me that I'd never felt before.
Little did I know at the time that she was already two steps ahead of me, turning my world upside down. Very few have ever been able to do that to me, to get one over on me, but this mysterious woman had managed to her first try.
The spark I had felt returned with a fierce vengeance when I went downstairs to retrieve my device only to find it missing. Looking to my right, I was stunned to find the beautiful woman in the wine-colored dress staring back at me from the other side of the glass doors that divided us, a knowing look on her face. She wanted me to know it was her who had taken the device, wanted me to know that she knew.
The intelligence in her eyes and the self-assured way that she carried herself had left me captivated and more than a little intrigued. I had quickly followed her, determined to get my device back from her but to also find out more about this woman.
Unfortunately, she was still two steps ahead of me, her car ready and waiting for her outside. By the time I had exited the building, she was about to get into it, giving me a penetrating look that seemed to pierce my very soul in that instance. I'd had to remind myself to breathe as sparks flared once more.
I spun on my heel in anger as she sped away, furious with myself for not anticipating this. Of course, who could've anticipated a stunning woman swooping into my life and stealing my device like this? I have no idea how she knew what I was up to, but I also couldn't help wondering just how much she knew about me and my nighttime activities.
After that, my search for this mysterious woman had come up empty. Thankfully, our paths crossed again a couple of nights later at a museum gala event. She had looked positively breathtaking in a backless gold dress with gold arm band, her hair done up in an elegant twist.
I had stayed in the shadows just watching her for several moments, utterly mesmerized. She moved with such grace and yet exuded so much strength. I felt an overwhelming desire to reach out and touch her as she gazed into a display case, to find out if her skin was as soft and smooth as it appeared to be.
I got the opportunity to then, my fingers slipping around her upper arm to grip it as I walked with her. Her skin was like the finest silk and, when she spoke, I felt like I was being drawn under a spell intricately woven by her cadence and intoxicating scent.
She didn't crack once under my intense scrutiny, didn't wilt in the presence of the infamous and powerful Bruce Wayne of Gotham. She held her own, going toe-to-toe with me and putting me in my place in a blink of a lovely eyelash.
She was good…very good.
It takes a lot to impress someone like me but impress me she did. Very much. She had left her mark on me as if I'd been branded by the shower of sparks that had cascaded around us as she adjusted my bowtie and graced me with that sexy little smile. The warm mahogany of her eyes had drawn me in and wrapped me up like a blanket, creating a fleeting sense of peace inside of me that I hadn't felt in so many years.
And I greatly longed to feel it again.
Watching her walk away, I had been entranced by the sensual sway of her hips, my throat like an arid desert as my appreciative gaze raked over her perfect, feminine form. Truer words had never been spoken before. I honestly had never met a woman like her before and I knew that I never would again.
I found myself wanting to know everything about her after that meeting. She lingered in my thoughts at work and followed me on patrol at night. She even started invading my dreams—especially after I discovered her name and was greeted by her heavenly scent.
I knew there were things in this world that could not be easily explained, going far beyond the reaches of logic and science. She was most definitely one of them and she had ended up saving my life.
Diana Prince…an Amazon…Wonder Woman.
I had been as good as dead when Doomsday had turned to unleash his fury on me. I had futilely raised my arms to brace for the attack that was coming straight at me, one that would have taken my life. Then, she had dropped out of the sky like an angel from heaven, landing in front of me and blocking Doomsday's fire. I still don't understand how she was able to defend against it without being swallowed alive, but I'm grateful nonetheless.
She had fought the Kryptonian demon like a warrior only read about in storybooks, singlehandedly taking the beast on without fear or hesitation. She threw herself into every swing of her sword, a warrior's cry on her lips with every brutal attack she unleashed on it.
There were times that Doomsday threw her like she was nothing more than a rag doll, throwing her through walls and causing her to skid countless yards across rock and concrete. I had thought for certain there was no way that she could ever survive such an attack only to watch her brush herself off and leap right back into action.
I had ended up losing a friend that terrible night, but I had gained even more respect for a new one as something more that I'm still wrestling with. Like me, it was obvious that she carried things inside of her that weighed her heart down, things that she had yet to share with anyone. I was determined to learn her story as well as everything else I could about this amazing woman.
Sitting before my computer system in the Batcave now, I can't keep myself from staring at her picture again. So many questions race through my mind as I drink in her image, so many emotions I'd long ago buried struggling to resurface.
I look down at the black and white picture that she had been so desperate to retrieve, happy to be able to return it to her. I can't help wondering why this particular picture holds so much significance to her. Does it have anything to do with one of the men joining her in the picture? The young man standing to her right someone of great importance to her?
I feel a tremor of jealousy tremble through me as I clench my jaw, my grip tightening on the picture. I don't have the right to be jealous of a man who is long since gone and yet I can't deny the feeling is right there beneath the surface.
Diana looks as beautiful and strong and fierce in that picture as I know her to be now, but the heavy weight that she seems to always carry with her is more than likely linked to this picture. I want to know everything there is to learn about her, want to know why she has all but hidden herself away from the public eye for all these years.
Picking up my pen, I jot a quick note to her, hoping that by sending this picture to her she'll begin to trust me.
"I found the original.
Maybe one day you'll tell me your story."
Sitting back in my seat, I stare at the picture of the Amazon and the note I wrote for a moment longer. Even though she's back in Paris, France, I'm determined to gain her help for the battle that I know awaits us on the horizon.
Looking at the note once more, I find myself wanting to write more, but ultimately decide to leave it as is. I don't want to scare her away despite the fact that opening myself up to another is not exactly my strong suit. For some reason I can't quite comprehend, I find myself wanting to do just that with her.
Maybe it has something to do with the spark that I felt when I first saw her.
