Author's Note:
Inspired by another one my WonderBat fanarts.
It would have been better if he had chosen to let the computer generate a hologram that looked and acted like the Joker.
And yet he didn't. For some reason, he had decided to pick up one of the white, humanoid dummies and hastily painted a red smear on the lower part of its head. The line of paint was curved like a smile, a creepy and familiar one. Strangely, it had been enough to provoke him.
It was just by chance that she came back early. Just by chance that she was hungry for a dessert in the cafeteria when she had found him like this. Diana had been hearing pounding sounds from a distance and couldn't help but approach what was transpiring inside the Watchtower's gymnasium. At first, she thought that he was practicing with the dummy but the deadly hits and the strain of his grunts proved a different purpose. Batman had been releasing his rage and, by the looks of it, he had been at it for hours.
Mesmerized by his current obsession, the princess watched him give his best moves. It was as if the dummy was the real Joker and it was taunting him, challenging him to do the worse to it. And as his imagination had asked, he delivered satisfying attacks, because every time his fists meet the smiling face, pieces of the foam from the inside burst out.
It was definitely strange, or even a little disturbing to watch, but she understood why. He chose to vent out here so that Alfred, the only person who could stop him, won't be able to come in his way. He had used these couple of hours because he knew that most of the League was scheduled to practice emergency drills and won't be present in this side of the Tower. It was the private revenge that he could to allow himself to have. It was deserved and it was right. Whatever crime the Joker did today, it was surely too sick for anyone to handle. Even for the Batman himself. But his morality didn't let him do the brutal vengeance that anyone would think of. In the end, it was better to dispose a dummy than the real monster.
At the limit of his energy, he resorted to bash the dummy's head to the ground. Its hard material made a crack sound and the rest of the foam was let out in one go, which indicated what Diana thought was the end.
But no, he wasn't finished. Panting, he stood up and walked towards the storage room, apparently to fetch another dummy.
That's when she had to intervene.
"That's enough" she said to him as she flew to his direction.
However, he continued his stride and remained focused on his next target. But this was quickly halted when she landed in front of him. Determined, she placed her knuckles to her waist. She was an indestructible wall that will surely stop him for good.
Knowing this, the white lenses of his cowl gave that icy stare. His panting was sounding consistently angry. In that moment, he perfectly embodied the darkness that haunted the streets.
"You have no business here" he growled.
She remained undeterred. Her eyes were clear and her face confident. The Amazon princess was just different from them all. She wasn't afraid of him and she won't let him boss her around. She was the perfect match in the staring showdown
"You've done enough" she stated in a demanding manner, "You need to rest and heal for a while"
He defiantly walked on, intending to go passed her. But with her left hand, she held his padded shoulder and prevented him to continue.
"Bruce…" she said softly, "I know you'll get him. You always do. But right now you need to get it together. If you don't, you're letting him win"
After her last sentence, he let out a sigh and stayed still for a while. She moved in front of him and held his face. His breathing became slower and his uptight demeanor was reduced significantly. He was giving himself up to her. She pushed the cowl up, revealing his handsome but fatigued face. There were dark circles around his eyes and the sweat that poured down made his black hair untidy. When she held his cheek, his dark blue eyes met hers. It was like he had found peace right in front of him.
She let out a small smile and felt the sad reality of his life. He is the perfect hero for Gotham's redemption. And yet, he was still the boy that lost the very people he adored.
She pulled the cowl down and once again, his face was half-hidden.
"Your knuckles must be really sore… Come with me. I have a first-aid kit in my room"
Soon, they walked out of the gymnasium together and eventually, they reached her quarters.
Diana closed the door and quickly went for the small cabinet in her bathroom. With his cowl off again, Bruce just stood in between the bed and the couch. She could feel him watching her as she retrieved the box with a red cross.
"Sit" she said as her left hand pointed on couch and her right held the box.
He obeyed as he held his head down. She sat next to him and began to remove his gloves. His hands revealed cuts and red bruises on his knuckles, while his fingers remained stiff and rugged.
"Relax" she reminded him.
Again, he cooperated. She opened the box, took out a few of cotton balls and soaked them in alcohol from a small green bottle. Gently, she dabbed the cotton on the cuts.
The small room remained quiet until he spoke.
"Thank you" he said softly.
Diana looked at him for a moment and smiled. She continued to dab the cotton until the cuts were covered. Next, she got ice from the fridge placed them on the bruises. After a few minutes, she dried his hands and wrapped them gently with thin bandage.
"There. Good as new" she happily declared while she set the kit on her bed.
He replied with a very slight smile. And then he yawned freely.
She grabbed one of the pillows on her bed and sat beside him again. She placed the pillow on her lap and patted on it, signaling him to lie down. He stared at her, looking unsure if he should do it.
She laughed a bit and said "Trust me. You need this"
After a few seconds of stillness, he lied down, placing his head on the pillow. His legs hanged beyond the armrest but were adequately comfortable. Immediately, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of satisfaction. It didn't take him long before his face and body relaxed.
Diana watched him doze off. With her hand, she lightly brushed his hair, setting every group of misplaced strands to its rightful curve. His chest, where the bat symbol was centered, continued to rise and sink.
She wondered if he wasn't deep enough in his slumber to not hear anything, but nevertheless, she whispered one last poetic line.
"Rest, my weary knight"