Chapter 3

Bruce felt nothing as he watched her through his binoculars. She was lying still on the bed, staring at the ceiling. What was she thinking about? He should have handled it better earlier. Should have said something, let her cry-scream if she wanted too-but Gordon was still missing and he had a job to do. He always had a job to do. Part of him was dying to swing over there, crawl through the window and-and-and what? Hell if he knew. He could hold her hand. He could be there. He knew that was what people did. But what did he know about what other people did. He had never been the nurturing sort. Sure he had Dick his fair share of times, but it was Alfred that put them all back together. It was always Alfred that fixed people. Not Batman. The Batman was an instrument. But his was Barb, his sweet Barbara and he owed her more than this.

He felt something tighten jut behind his solar plexus when she started screaming at the ceiling. Tears streamed down her cheeks onto the pillow, her fists clenched as she screamed and screamed and screamed. The nurses ran in, pushing the needle into her IV and pumping her full of sedative, but it didn't take effect immediately. He watched them offer useless platitudes, stroke her arms as if she were an animal that needed soothing. She didn't strike at them, even paralyzed she could have incapacitated every single person in the room, but she just lay there and screamed at the ceiling.

Bruce knew he felt something. He could feel the presence of the feeling even if he wouldn't let himself what it was. As she finally started to calm down, he shot the grappling gun and swung away into the night. There was nothing he could do for her until the morning. In the morning he would have Alfred visit her, and begin ordering people into researching spinal injuries. Stem cells maybe-there had been some promising results recently. Maybe alien technology on the Watchtower; he would fix this.

He didn't sleep that night, or the night after. Alfred had gone to see Barbara twice, staying for hours talking and keeping her company, but Bruce let himself become the Batman. Working constantly, he divided his time between taking all of the Joker's known associates off the streets for good, and researching the most recent medical trials in spinal recovery. The results weren't promising, but he had faced far worse than this. For as often as everyone came back to life, it would stand to reason one of them could figure out a little nerve rebuilding.

He was starting to hallucinate when he called Clark. He would have to sleep soon, only a few hours, but he still hated the time his body forced him to lose.

"This is Kent."

"I need something." Clark answered him with a snort.

"Hello to you too," Clark mocked him. Bruce didn't waste time bantering. He had no patience for Kent's genial ways.

"I need all the information we have on medical procedures, alien and human," Bruce told him.

"You mean Kryptonian don't you?" Clark asked with a sigh. "You already have access to the Watchtower database, but you want me to take you up north."

"Yes." There was silence on the line for three heartbeats. If Kent agreed he would sleep in the air-no time lost. He was already planning what he would do with the Kryptonian information when Clark cut him off.

"No."

"No is not an option," Bruce ordered him.

"Wait, why are you so angry?" Clark asked him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste my time reading my blood pressure." Bruce's voice was soft now, more a growl than human.

"What do you need it for?"

"Kent," he ground out, already considering how he could use the Kryptonite to force Kent into helping, "have I ever asked you for something that wasn't important?"

"Of course not," Clark answered him, "but Kryptonian technology-"

"Is incredibly advanced," Bruce cut him off. "I need to take a look at it. I'm asking for your help. As a friend." Not for the first time Bruce wished he could just punch him.

"Alright," Clark finally answered. "When do you want to leave?"

"Now." He hung up before listening to Kent's reply.

It was a half hour before Clark finally showed up at the cave; Bruce was already dressed for the artic.

"You're late."

"Some of us aren't private billionaires," Clark joked, but his smile dissipated as Bruce approached him. "Bruce, what is wrong?"

"I'm going to nap on the way up," Bruce told him, ignoring the question. As Clark picked him up and lifted off, there was finally only silence.

It was another three days before Diana showed up. She was standing there, in his cave, waiting for him when he returned from that night's patrol. Alfred was standing by, studiously studying the tray he held.

"Bruce, Clark told me you were interested in Themysciran medical practices." Her voice always got to him. So smooth, she sounded like she didn't need to breathe-as if she spoke instead of sang only because she knew the beauty would destroy everyone around her. Diana sounded nothing like Barbara; Barbara's voice was always changing-lower when she was mad at him. Husky when he was in her. When she whispered in his ear it was suddenly as if her voice controlled him, a string that lifted all his power, all his responsibility from his shoulders.

He felt himself start to swell painfully as the Kevlar restricted him. Visions of Barbara-under him, riding him, in front of him, twisted around him-bombarded him, refusing to let his body go. The arousal made him furious. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he be aroused when Barb was lying in a hospital bed somewhere, paralyzed?

"Bruce?" Diana interrupted his thoughts. "Bruce what is wrong?"

Bruce turned on her snarling, something inside of him breaking, snapping apart in the middle and ricocheting around his brain.

"How often do I ask for anything?" he growled, "from any of you? Give me what I need Diana, and stay the hell out of my life."

He spun away from her, but he could guess what her face looked like. Probably something similar to Alfred's. Horror and pain and expectation as if he had only done what they knew he would but wished he couldn't.

"Can I have the information or not?" he flung over his shoulder.

"Of course Bruce," she told him graciously. "I will have it to you by the morning."

Alfred set his tray on the computer console and left the cave, never saying a word.