Chapter 3
Clark,
I hope this letter finds you well. So much has happened since you left the League and Lex Luthor made himself at home in a chair that rightfully belongs to you. I could happily remove his smug, baldhead from his manipulative body every time I see him sitting where you should be. But it's all I can do to keep Bruce from killing the egomaniac himself. Odd that I've found myself playing referee to Batman who can barely contain his outrage at having to share the League with the likes of Luthor. On this, Bruce and I are in agreement. On other things, as usual, we are not.
Only for you have I stayed. Your reasoning was sound, as it so often is, but I feel as if my remaining on the League is a betrayal of all that we are to each other. An Amazon is loyal, even when said loyalty is unpopular. I care not for popular opinion. It's a waste of my time and distracts from much bigger issues.
But for you and Bruce I agreed to remain, unwilling to give the media more fodder for their foolish claims that, as a couple, we pose a danger to the world. I am so tired of such nonsense. I wish you could find peace from hearing the endless accusations leveled against you. If I could spare you, I would. Despite what the media says, my powers are not unlimited.
And we do feel pain. We bleed. We cry. We want.
They know nothing of us. They never truly did, so why should I be surprised by how quickly some have turned against you? I shouldn't, but I still am. And it angers me, more than I would reveal to anyone but you.
My patience and tolerance for such things are finite; whereas, your own is admirably endless. In this vein, I think you have it right, for what good does harboring anger do? But I ask you, Clark, when does patience and tolerance turn into martyrdom?
I will abandon my anger and desire to seek retribution on your behalf, if you abandon your guilt and grief over circumstances beyond your control. A difficult challenge, I know. But you are Superman, the Man of Steel. But more, you are Clark Kent. A baby who fell from the sky then learned how to fly - a man, a myth, a hero.
I've never met anyone like you, man or god.
Diana
"It says here that this letter was originally written in Kryptonian and translated to English for this book."
Nina lifted her head once more, and met Brian's knowing eyes. "She learned Kryptonian for him?"
"I guess so. I can't see Diana having much use for it otherwise."
No, neither could Nina. Besides Kara, Zod, and Faora, Superman was the last of his kind.
"Diana was proficient in many languages. I don't know why it never occurred to me that she would've taken the time to learn the language of her lover. I think that single act speaks volumes to how much she cared for and respected Clark's culture and heritage, even though all his knowledge of his Homeworld was second-hand information."
"True, but, in many ways, they were both outsiders, from ancient lands no one knew much about. I'm sure it pleased Clark to have one person he could share something so personal with and who would understand and value what it meant to him to have something . . . anything of Krypton." Brian cleared what sounded like a dry throat. "Umm, sweetie, I think I'm ready for that cold water now."
TO BE CONTINUED
