Thanks so very much to my wonderful readers! I really do love y'all! Without any of you to cheer me up, I am nothing, hopeless, and blah. Thank you!

Enjoy!

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An ant could have broken the silence that descended on them. It could have cried, 'Humans call us quiet, well look at them now. Not so loud anymore, are they?' Diana waited for a chance to hear the supposedly mute creature to appear and speak as she scanned the walls, carpet, ceiling, and her food. She could drop a bit of meat on the floor, but Alfred would have detected it in mere seconds and swept it clean before she voiced her reason. It would be just a waste of effort. And she couldn't waste what miniscule energy she had left to tell Bruce the baby news.

Shaking her head when the inane epiphany of her thoughts hit her, she downed her wine. The uncanny quiet must have drove her crazy to the point that she would actually imagine a talking ant mocking them for attention. So she gulped down more wine, refilled it, and drank more. Bruce and Alfred stared, anxious and discomfited by her sudden obsession over her alcoholic drink just then. She wavered a little in her seat, her groan filling the room.

"Princess Diana?" Old habits really were impossible to kill. Alfred approached her, replaced her empty wine glass with water. "Master Bruce and I believe you've drunk too much for the night." He glanced down at the half-eaten thigh swimming in gravy in her plate, said, "Doesn't tally to royalty's taste, does it?"

She patted his gloved hand, sat back with a wide smile pasted on her face. "Mother would have hired you as top cook the moment she's tasted your food. Back home, the specialty was either sheep's intestines or pig feet, depending on which one didn't run away. This certainly surpasses what my home has to offer."

Alfred blushed, chuckled. He abruptly cleared his throat when Bruce eyed him with odd amusement. "You flatter me, Princess Diana."

She looked up, grinned. "It's the truth, and the lot of us know it." Her eyes fell on Bruce's contemplative gaze. Blowing out a sigh, she said gaily, "Sir Alfred, would you please excuse Bruce and me for a minute? I need to talk to him privately if you don't mind."

If she didn't seem oddly cheery, it wouldn't have worried Alfred one bit. He glanced uneasily at Bruce, his wrinkled forehead a sure sign that Bruce shouldn't aggravate her anymore than obviously stated by her sudden downing of wine and mirthful reaction to calling him 'Sir Alfred'. Bruce nodded, stood up, walked to Diana's side when Alfred left them alone.

He tenderly touched her hand, said with heavy concern, "You're drunk."

"That I am," Diana slurred, pushed back the chair behind her, jumped up.

As much as he urged away his eyes from her, he couldn't. The silky, white dress hung low at the cleavage, revealing her strong shoulders and fine back. Her long hair freely framed her beautiful face in the same way as the halter dress precariously held on to her body. He moved his hand along the line of her spine, his fingers burning to unfasten the clasp behind her neck, his lips tentatively touching hers as he spoke.

"What's so important that you had to order Sir Alfred out of the room, Princess?"

Diana smiled, held his hand that rested on her waist, moved it to her stomach. "This."

Bruce frowned, looked down. Was this a multiple-choice question or a guessing game? Was she too intoxicated to realize her puzzling words? Was she implying something that he refused to delve into when it purported terrible things?

He remembered once walking along the street, stopping at a bookstore and finding himself in the women's section. Few people recognized him, whispered to their company when they actually saw Bruce Wayne flipping through pregnancy books.

When their murmurs grew louder by each turn of a page, he calmly put it back in its rightful place, strolled to the newspaper stand, and sat on the couch with his paper. As the onlookers lost interest and wandered someplace suitable to irritate another incidental front-page man, he rushed back to the 'You're Pregnant, Don't Panic!' book and frantically stopped at the symptoms page.

That same night, when Diana crawled into bed with him, he watched her closely. She did mention she puked a few times, so did the book. She mentioned a headache, he nearly cried when the book said something about that too. He relaxed when she didn't jump out of bed for a snack. His nerves tightened again when he remembered the nights she nearly swung him into the wall.

But as ever jaded, child-phobic man that he was, he simply ignored it.

Yet…

He stepped back, let go of her. "You're going to vomit again?" That seemed to be the only reason, right? She had too much to drink, so it was only sensible for her to say silly things and suddenly puke on his suit.

She couldn't be pregnant, no! A drooling, cranky baby was definitely out of the question. He nearly burned the image of the book in his mind when he couldn't burn the damn thing literally. He couldn't waste his money on a flowery, insidious manual for pregnant mothers when it could never be true. He wore protection, he was careful. He always was. He wasn't frigging Supersperm, for God's sake! Besides, the aforesaid alias was already taken by Oliver Queen.

Diana stared at his pale face. "I'm pregnant, Bruce."

He should have dropped Rex when he had the chance. That way, either he was sent to prison for blaming the floor to have killed the drooling infant or Shayera could have killed him before he had the chance to hear what Diana had just said to him.

"Bruce…" She held his freezing hand. "Say something."

How could he? He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't keep his hanging chin shut. He couldn't even blink! Maybe he could, but he barely noticed it. He couldn't breathe, and he heard Diana calling for Alfred when he must've turned blue.

"Master Bruce, goodness gracious! Breathe, Sir. Breathe!"

Didn't the book mention that too? Christ, he memorized the whole book and he wasn't even pregnant! Dammit! He'd rather choke to death than follow the instructions giddily published for women who were thought to be happy as morning sunshine when they discovered themselves to be carrying babies heavier than watermelons! Plus, would a mother be thrilled when she found out a devil was living inside her? 'Course not.

"Alfred! Do something!" Her head was no longer fuzzy and somehow cleared miraculously when she saw Bruce's awful pallor. She touched his cheek, but he didn't wince or budge. She grew extremely worried when he narrowly resembled Dr. Freeze's popsicle victims.

"Get water!" she yelled when Alfred ran hysterically from the table to the corner of the room, his old knees shaking.

Comprehending her simple directive, Alfred ran to the kitchen, came back with a bucket of water and splashed it on Bruce. Water caught in his eyes and nose as he coughed and swore, and finally, breathed.

She cupped his face in her hands, her body pressed to his soaked shirt. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to kill you." Almost.

"I thought you'd be happy," she continued when he refused to look at her. "Bruce, please. Speak to me."

He shakily yet gently removed her hands from his face, muttered, "I'll be in the Batcave."

Alfred and Diana wistfully watched him stroll out of the room, his knees ready to give in.

Alfred turned to her, a smile hardly replacing his sorry frown. "I'm happy for the both of you! Congratulations."

Diana suddenly hugged Alfred, wept. "I thought it might thrill him. But… I should have known better."

Alfred dropped the bucket and returned the hug. "Well, Master Bruce has never been wise in this sort of pitch. He's very sensitive when the P-word, or the M-word, or the F-word is involved in a sentence that pertains to him. But who knows? He might pull through, don't give up hope."

He pulled out his handkerchief, wiped her tears. "Master Bruce has a big heart. He obviously shows it through his philanthropic donations and villainy prevention. And on top of all that," he smiled at her. "He loves you. Give him time to unwind. The horror of his childhood is a depressing one, and I believe that he has a hard time adjusting to kids because he has to remember what it was like as a child in order for anyone, in general, to be a loving parent."

Diana choked back the tears, kissed the sweet butler on the cheek. "With or without Bruce's permission, I'd like to make you our child's godfather."

Alfred blushed, smiled. "By Jove, I'm not daft enough to refuse such honor! I'd love to, Prin—"

Diana narrowed her eyes.

"Diana," he murmured as though spikes grew on his tongue. "It will take a long time for me to bend the rule a little, but it's worth it."

"Of course it is," Diana gripped his hands in hers, glanced at the door. "I'm afraid that he might have rolled down the stairs in post-shock."

"Great minds think alike. Shall we have a look—?"

They were interrupted by the sound of oiled gates being open, then swung shut afterwards. An indication that the Bat has flown out of the cave for nightly purposes, Alfred shook his head.

"Looks like our fear hasn't been confirmed," Diana's soft voice betrayed her. So long as he donned on the cowl, it didn't alleviate her worst fear: Bruce could never want a child… their child.

"… Diana…"

She faced him, said, "Perhaps, he's not the only one who could fly off for some alone time." She turned away, added, "Hopefully Mother would be happy to hear a bit of good news from her daughter."

"I'm sure she'll be as pleased as I am."

"Yes, well, being thrilled and comforting doesn't excuse you for eavesdropping," Diana said candidly. She flashed him a grin before turning to the door. "I'll see you later, Alfred."

"Ah… yes. Of course," he muttered, his voice dropped low to hide the embarrassment cramping his well-mannered, British accent. "Fly safe, Princess Diana," he whispered when she climbed the stairs to change.

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He reshuffled his index cards, recited the cheesy lines written on them until his mouth was nothing more than an overwrought chatterbox. He slid on one of the cafeteria's chairs, tried to struggle against the mouth-watering aroma of food.

"A plate of eggs wouldn't hurt anyone," he muttered as he rushed to the table lined with heaps of plate and myriad choices of delicious, hot Oriental delicacies. He chose quickly, returned to his seat to find Shayera giggling at his cards.

"Hey! You're reading sensitive material here," he grabbed all of them from her grasp, counted each one before looking at her. "You messed up the arrangement. Thanks a lot."

Shayera chuckled. "You have eyes as dark as the night, hair blacker than burnt charcoal, skin as smooth as the immense plain I walk on that is my love for you. Marry me, Linda Park."

Wally rushed to her side, covered her mouth with his hand. "Shh… somebody might coincidentally walk by and hear you. Besides," Wally scanned the corresponding card. "You're wrong. I changed burnt charcoal to looming twilight. It was the only word I could think of that rhymed with night."

"Why not say, blacker than the rotten teeth of my fellow knight?"

Wally seemed to take the bait. "Not bad… wait. Rotten teeth! You're kidding me. She'd slap me before I have the chance to say the next line."

"And you thought burnt charcoal's flattering?"

"Sounds better than rotten teeth," he mumbled as he slurped soup. "Read the others?"

"You think I had the chance to read the rest when you're faster than a speeding bullet? Let me see."

Wally shook his head. "You'll mock me."

"I only tweak some for your own good. Hand them over," she ordered as she held out her outstretched hand.

Wally didn't concede. He tucked it away in the unknown abyss of his costume and said, "I'm no chump, Shayera Hol. I know you to be shrewd and sly to read it, laugh it off, crumple it all into papery dust, and tell me that I should act more myself than write tacky declarations of love that might just revolt my Dream Babe. I know you, Shayera Hol, and that is why, I will take my advice that is assumed to be coming from you because you're always the shrewd one and knowing that, I'll burn my hard work as if it never mattered to anyone else but me, which is all that matters. I love Linda and I shouldn't screen the real me with my declared, written poems of love blah blah blah blah."

Shayera just smiled. "I'm impressed Wally… very impressed…"

"Whew!" Flash leaned on his chair, fanned his hot cheeks. "I thought I'd never get through you."

She laughed. "You're so predictable. Give them to me, I'll burn them for you."

"Oh c'mon, Shayera, you know you'll break my heart if you do."

He gave her the pup eyes, his lips quivering. Shayera rolled her eyes, rested her chin on her knuckled fist. "Not working, but I'll let you go just this once. Just this once," she emphasized when Wally sat back, stuffed his mouth with herbed bread.

"Plus, I know you too well to know that you want to tell me something you've sworn never to tell John. What's up?"

Shayera nearly applauded his unnervingly keen, insightful observations, but she'd overlook that for now. She had to tell Wally her revelation for few reasons that Diana needed friends—those who weren't made of clay—to support her back. Knowing Bruce, she sympathized with Diana. What's more, she knew Wally was the man to keep secrets as long as you kept hard tabs on him.

"D's pregnant."

Wally looked up, wide eyes staring into Shayera's cool front. "Wait… Are you referring to our Amazing D?"

"One and only."

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Your buddy."

Wally's lower jaw dropped, strings of saliva hardly gummed his molars together. "No way."

"Believe it, Wally." She stood up, stretched her back. "That felt good. I trust you won't tell anybody?"

Staring up at her, he said, "You tricked me."

"How could I ever do that to my dearest friend?" She pecked his cheek, winked her eye. "It's our little secret. Adieu."

D and B are pregnant? Well, technically it's only D because it'd be gross weird when a guy's pregnant but that's not the point! Wait… how? WHEN? How could I have not noticed?

"Shayera!" He raced out the door, found her walking halfway down the corridor. How could you drop a load on my shoulders like that? But ya gotta admit, this is juicy good. Oh boy, I pity Bats. But ain't my problem. He called out Shayera's name again and she finally turned and smirked at him.

"Not enough?"

"By a hair's breadth."

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Her fingertips brushed the dusty wood that was her table's edge; the film of neglect coated her fingers as she brushed them off against her thigh. She opened one of the drawers, beamed when she saw her scrolls placed as how she left it.

"I never touched any of your stuff if that's the reason for checking the drawers."

"If you haven't, why sound guilty?"

Donna was glad that Diana's back faced her. Her cheeks pinked but she quickly retorted, "Okay, maybe just a few when I needed reference, but so I could pass. Geography and Algebra nearly murdered me. So… y'know…"

"Uh-huh." Diana moved to the bed, sat next to her sister, reeled in her private reverie. Unlike her, Donna had frequently visited Themyscira to help her sisters and recycle her 'depleted' brain cells by rummaging through forgotten books tucked away when she bumped into a few of Diana's musty scrolls.

According to Donna, she had enrolled herself in a class full of twelve-year-olds, and that seemed to bring eerie pride into her sister's swelling head when Donna mentioned she topped the class.

"How are your classmates?" Diana asked suddenly.

Donna turned, grinned. "Good, good. Heard of Apoline?"

"Should I?"

"Well, she's the daughter of Apollo. I hear her mother's mortal and Hera disapproves it because Zeus secretly does the somersault when he sees her. There are even rumors about Zeus courting Airhead Apoline."

Diana looked at Donna questioningly. "She didn't inherit Apollo's brain?"

"Apparently she got it from her mom. She's major weird. Like, she eats raw sheep's guts."

"Who? The mother or daughter?" Joining in godly gossips was so exciting and sinful that Diana knew both of them were bound to misfortune, but she wasn't a god, and no god was perfect. So, why would she care?

Plus, it momentarily slipped Bruce off her mind.

"Both. It was disgusting." Donna openly shuddered. "Anyway, she flunked two times, so as class president, I recommended her to repeat kindergarten."

Diana slapped Donna's knee when Donna giggled. "Cheeky. What did Apollo say?"

"Oddly enough, he agreed with me. Thought I was a genius, crowned me Voluptuous Warrior last summer, and vowed to be my dream god as soon as he could convince Apoline's mother to stop chasing after him."

"He nearly cursed you, didn't he?"

Donna pouted. "I was only emanating my emphatic concern for his daughter. They deemed repeating kindergarten as a death sentence. On earth, it wasn't so bad."

"It really depends, and you of all people should have expected their furious reactions. You didn't have any right to opt and declare their daughter's recurrent failure." Diana raked her fingers through Donna's velvety-smooth hair. "Before you judge other people, make sure you're not a twenty-year-old princess amidst twelve-year-olds attending elementary all over again."

Donna opened her mouth, clamped it shut, and muttered, "But fifth grade is like Earth's first year college's curriculum!"

"Geography and Algebra?"

"That was three years ago," Donna said with an ignorant wave of her hand. "Now we're taking up Biochemistry."

"What do you need Biochemistry for?" Diana asked with a raised brow.

Diana nearly shivered in fright when Donna gave her a naughty grin. It was almost similar to the Joker's.

"I dyed Apoline's hair pink," she whispered in Diana's ear, as if afraid that saying it in a normal tone would reveal the sadistic intent obscured by her soft voice.

She giggled hysterically when Diana stared at her in horror. "Hera, who are you and what have you done to my sister!"

"What is all the fuss in here?" Queen Hippolyta entered the room, gasped when Diana's slightly turned profile met her.

"Diana? You're here?" Unable to wait for the obvious answer, she hugged her daughter, afraid to let go. "Oh Hera, thank you. Let me look at you." Hippolyta smoothed Diana's cheek, her tears filming her perfect blue eyes. "Beautiful as ever. Why didn't you announce that you've returned? We would have made preparations…"

"Oh Mother, it's quite unnecessary, I assure you. And you," She held her mother's hand. "Need to sit down. I have wonderful news… for the both of you."

In case both her mother and Donna screamed after hearing her pregnant, she had to close the door before facing them. The moment she stopped in front of them, she was completely lost for words when she saw them staring at her expectantly; Donna's hand rested on their mother's, and their blue eyes were staring into hers as if her anxiety and mirth were evident in her unusual, shy gaze.

"Well?" Donna asked, her knuckles white with eager impatience. Hippolyta muttered, "Donna… don't rush your sister."

"But I'm hungry," Donna whined.

"Shush. I saw you lurking into the kitchen half an hour ago," Hippolyta looked at her frozen daughter. "Diana, you seem ill."

"Mother, I'm… I'm…" She couldn't say it. How could she when her mother and sister never expected her to be in love with a man in the first place? And expecting a child after years of absence would probably inculcate more scandal than intended. She could say that she was in love, but Donna disliked Bruce when he called her hopeless once. Bruce had always been a horrible judge of character and skill, and Donna refused to listen to further explanation afterwards.

Donna might just laugh, telling Mother that Bruce was an ugly brute even though Mother had already met him and favored him… slightly. Anyway, she couldn't waste her time in defending Bruce's sweet, caring nature; Donna wouldn't allow it.

She had to say it now though. Now! It wasn't so difficult. P-r-e-g-n-a-n-t. Say it, Diana. You can do it. Pregnant. Or maybe intestinal flu was more believable.

Knock, knock.

"Your Highness—"

"For Hera's sake, we're having a reunion here! Are you too blind to see? Of course you are! Nevertheless, the door was closed so there would be no interruptions! Isn't that the purpose of a door? Now, wait outside while I talk to Mother and Donna!"

Diana slammed the door before the stunned soldier could utter a word. She was seething when Hippolyta and Donna stared at her, wide-eyed, speechless, and mouths wide enough to allow a swarm of flies to call it their newfound, spacious home.

"Diana!" Hippolyta finally regained her composure, glowered at her daughter, sprung up from the foot of the bed. "That was uncalled for!"

"Absolutely the most stunning sight I've ever seen in my life." Donna applauded. Hippolyta glared at her, Donna stopped.

Hippolyta turned to Diana, huffed out a breath. "I'm disappointed in you, Diana." She walked past Diana, said, "More pressing matters might be at hand. Do bear in mind that you are not born of royalty so you may attain what is desired. You were raised as a civilized princess such as one who doesn't bang the door in a guard's face, for instance." She pinched the bridged of her nose, opened the door. "We'll talk more about your behavior later."

As the door closed, Diana crashed on the bed, her face buried on the pillow's soft pad. Her belly still flat, she wondered if mood swings started as early as now. The size of a granule yet highly aggressive, her baby was already as fierce as her. She sighed, groaned when her stomach grumbled in hungry complaint. The baby had no mercy indeed.

She felt Donna poking her arm.

"What?"

"Who were you and what have you done to my sister!"

Diana playfully threw the pillow at Donna, sat up. She leaned close to Donna's face, their noses a few inches apart. "I'm pregnant," she murmured.

Donna laughed. "You really crack me up. Hahaha… c'mon. Seriously. Why'd you zing the guard that way? And so suddenly. Are you all right?"

"I would be if you take me seriously," Diana said, her voice cool and serious. "Bruce is the father."

Seeing her sister's reaction was worse than watching Bruce turn blue earlier. I wonder if they have salad in the kitchen. Donna continued to gawk at Diana. Roasted Lamb might be more filling though. Donna tried to speak, but it sounded more like a frog's croak Or soup would do just fine. Donna paled, and it worried Diana. But her stomach couldn't stop growling.

She hopped off the bed, left Donna watching her walk out the door. "I'm starving. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen."

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"You look worse than usual."

Silence.

"Finding you in my usual lookout worries me. Can you loom somewhere else?"

The silence was deafening, and Dick clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering before Bruce yanked them out his mouth with a wrench.

Both of them sat still as they monitored harlequin, speeding vehicles zipping below them. Bathed under the moonlight's beam and looking down at the city's fast pace normally eased the tension of the harrowing day; but tonight was awfully different.

Frequently wondering Bruce's abrupt visit to one of Bludhaven's precipitous buildings, he couldn't unwind the knot that occasionally bothered his shoulders. He rubbed them, winced when the pain spilled throughout his back. He seriously had to pamper himself once in a while. A day in a spa would have felt like heaven. The only problem was that he had lesser time for himself than wanted these days. And dreaming of half-naked women kneading his back didn't bring any satisfaction at all; instead, his back pain did more harm than respite when imaginary spas were assumed to be as calming and satisfying as the real thing.

"I can't think. I'm moving to another rooftop." Dick stood up, stretched his aching back. "See you 'round."

"Dick."

"Yes?"

Bruce sighed, laid his head on his fisted hand. "Diana's pregnant."

"So?" His night may have not ended as planned, but somehow he knew that it would end better than previous nights. He waited until Bruce told him a few details—simple and short as always—and he grinned inwardly.

I'm gonna be a brother! Ho ho… wait till Donna hears this. I wonder if we should hold a baby bash. Mmm…

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To be continued…

So, what do y'all think?

Author's note: I'm still not sure if I should 'creatively' impregnate Helena. Got any suggestions? And what do you think of the idea of Linda expecting one too? Maybe Donna/ Dick as well?

I'd love to hear from you!