Disclaimer: Any fictional character, place, or situation that you recognize is owned by DC Comics and associates. I claim no ownership, neither do I make any profits from writing this. Additionally, there is a scene premise and some lines of dialogue taken directly from issue #3 of Red Hood and the Outlaws, which is owned by DC Comics and produced by Scott Lobdell, Pasqual Ferry, Ig Guara, and Brett Booth. A rather awesome series, if I do say so myself.
Acknowledgements: As always our Lord and Master, Dinasis, must be paid the respect he is due, at least until I grow strong enough in the Dark Side to overthrow him.
Also thanks to the aforementioned people for making something as awesome as Red Hood and the Outlaws and inspiring guys like me. Thanks to all those who reviewed, you guys don't know how uplifting it is for me.
Notes: If you are like me, and hate long Author's Notes, then skip this. It contains nothing important to the story, just some things I want to talk about.
Considering the wordcount of the chapter itself is over 9k words without the note, I felt it okay if I did this, though I'm usually against it.
First order of business, I want to thank all those who favorited or followed me or my stories, or any and all combinations of the above. Truly, I am glad you thought my stuff good enough to keep an eye on. However, I have to admit that it is quite irritating to see someone favorite and follow you and your story, but still refuse to leave a review. Really dude? Really? You do all the needless crap, but you can't leave a two word review for the author? I appreciate the follows and stuff, and I'm not usually a review whore, but take a look at the BM/WW recently updated stories. You see shitty fics like that *asshatery that has 3 fucking chapters and barely 4k words. That's less than 1.3k words per chapter. And I see that it has over 45 reviews or somesuch. I see crap like that, and I suddenly don't want to live on this planet anymore. Newsflash people; if a story's chapters have anything less than at least 3k words, there is something seriously wrong with it, or its author.
Next thing I want to mention is something of a gift for you guys, whoever likes this fic. I have a very clear view of how this story will end, and a pretty clear view of how it will get there. However, I can easily fit extra scenes here and there. If you have an idea that you would like to see implemented, or a canon storyline (from whatever media)that you think would be interesting to see within this fic, let me know in a review or a PM. I will check out your idea, and see if I can adapt it somewhere in this story. I can't promise it will be exactly as you want it to be, since it will have to be tweaked to fit, but I will do my utmost to present it in the right spirit. Credit will, of course, be given where credit is due.
If you want to be helpful, point out typos and/or mistakes of any kind. It is the first step to becoming a Lord and Master.
This has been the longest chapter I have written so far, and packs quite the punch, methinks. But this story is still in it's early stages, so don't expect things to slow down after this. So far I have been updating weekly, but this may not last. My update rate may waver, but I shall endeavor to have a chapter ready at least every couple weeks.
I swear there was something else I wanted to say, but I can't remember it. Meh, it's too late-or too early, depending on how you look at it- for me to care.
*: There was the name of a story that was the perfect example of what I'm saying, but after the author bitched and moaned about it I thought it prudent to remove the title. Think of the children!
Enjoy.
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Generally upon awakening Diana always feels refreshed and ready for a full day. One of the perks of being Heaven's illegitimate child, she supposes. Even after a full day of fighting and collecting injuries as she goes, she is always fully healed and rested after a good night's sleep, barring near fatal circumstances. It would explain her surprise when she woke up the next day with a pounding headache and a foggy mind.
She awakes tangled in the sheets, still wearing the full Wonder Woman outfit sans boots, for some reason. She lets out a pathetic groan as she contemplates the merits of trying to go back to sleep. With herculean effort, she lifts her head and blearily looks at her alarm clock. Through heavy eyelids, she sees the time. Twenty minutes past ten in the morning. She has had over eight hours of sleep, so why does she feel like this?
Though her head is swimming and her eyelids flutter, she refuses to accept the indignation of such weakness, and floats herself to a sitting position. From there, she brings up her left hand to cover the gigantic and completely unladylike yawn that escapes her. Noticing that she is still wearing her armor, she absently reaches behind her back to unclasp it. Failing a couple of times and getting irritated, she tries again with both hands before finally succeeding. She rises, and discards the rest of her clothing as she stumbles toward the bathroom, accepting that she needs a cold bath to clear her mind.
Goal in mind, she enters the bathroom of her London apartment, and fumbles with the shower levers. She lets out a light yelp as the water hits her back, much colder than she anticipated. Though she is granted protection against extreme temperatures, even she is not protected against things that are simply cold. Quickly adjusting the temperature of the water, she starts to shower in earnest, remembering that she did not have one last night.
What did happen last night? She was right, her mind is clearing, courtesy of the cold water, Zeus bless Patriarch's World's inventors. With the newfound clarity comes a flood of memories. A quick flight to Gotham, Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd, Bruce, Gotham City, Cape Carmine, the unnamed restaurant and the clothes store, and finally the Wayne Foundation fundraiser, it's all coming back to her.
The memories also provide an explanation for her current state. She groans pathetically and considers that maybe drinking so much had been a bad idea. She had not had a single drop of alcohol since leaving Paradise Island, and that was years ago. Themysciran wine has nothing on Patriarch's World's alcoholic beverages, that's for sure. She was feeling so elated at the ongoing success of her not-date with Bruce, that she indulged in a little too much champagne and wine. Maybe Bruce had the right idea with that ginger ale.
Apparently, being a demigoddess and blessed by half a dozen goddesses did not gift her with a higher alcohol tolerance. Something to remember, that's for sure. She thanks Dionysus that she at least did not drink enough to forget all that came to pass the previous evening.
Memories of the hours spent with Bruce bring a wide grin to her face. She cheers internally, and then when she feels this is grossly inadequate, she lets out a loud, high-pitched cry of elation, barely muffled by the running water. Last night was a total success, she chants inside her head, unable to hold back a round of giggles but not caring at all for the indignation of it all.
Now fully awake and with her headache slowly fading, she rinses and shuts off the water flow. Ignoring its hot springs, Paradise Island would be greatly improved by showers, she thinks. Grabbing a towel, she wraps it around her hair with quick, deft movements. With another, bigger tower she quickly dries herself and heads out of the bathroom, wrapping it snugly around her torso. She cannot contain the wide grin on her face.
She enters her small kitchen area to prepare a cup of delicious coffee, fully intending to get rid of the headache in order to examine last night in more detail. As she waits for the coffee and for her hair to dry, she puts on some underwear and sheepishly gathers the pieces of her armor strewn between the bedroom and the bathroom. Being too impatient to wait for her hair to dry naturally, she cheats, and with a flex of her abilities as Heaven's child, the water evaporates from her hair. Grinning at the handy trick, she puts away the towel and wears the armor that she collected from around her apartment.
Next, she endeavors to find her boots. She finds the first one under the kitchen table, and then she eyes the new crack in her wall with suspicion. If she looks at it from the right angle, it seems probable that the throw was made from the bedroom and that the boot landed there after rebounding off the kitchen wall. Resigned, she goes off to find the other boot. After an initial failure, she returns to the kitchen. She resumes her search, this time armed with a mug full of steaming coffee. Twenty minutes of searching every crevice of her admittedly small apartment, she has a flashback from last night and groans audibly. Opening the front door, she quickly snatches boot number two from where she'd discarded it last night while unlocking her door.
Now fully clothed and caffeinated, she retrieves her League communicator and stands on the transporter pad, hidden in a secret room behind her closet. Her very heavy, wooden closet. She absently starts up the teleporter, coffee mug still in hand, and in a few seconds her molecules are reassembled aboard the Watchtower.
Today being a day completely free of any Ambassadorial or UN duties, and having not had any divine trouble recently, she has no better choice than to spend the day up in the Watchtower, as it is still too early to go wandering. She scrunches her nose at the memories of the few times she tried the local custom called 'clubbing', not long after she arrived. The times not ruined by Strife were ruined by the fact that she was alone and that the men there were sexist pigs. In fact, the last two points were interchangeable, probably. Eventually, she gave it up, even though she really enjoyed dancing to the music. Another great addition for Themyscira. Food for thought.
The recent lack of troublemaking gods has her on edge. Though War has probably better things to do than bother her, Strife usually doesn't leave her waiting for long.
Blaming it on her recent good fortune, she makes her way to the Monitor Womb. If anyone is aboard, they'll be there. With a mental jolt, she suddenly remembers that Hal is off planet, needing to go take care of a variety of trouble on some planet or another in their sector.
The existence of the Green Lantern Corps has fascinated her since Hal's first explanation. It gives her some perspective, knowing that there is a group of people protecting the entire universe, that they have done so for countless years. The group is led by a number of immortal and powerful creatures, aptly named 'Guardians of the Universe'. Hal spoke of them with what was probably less respect than he should, and much more suspicion than his station should allow, but the basic description that his ring provided was informative enough. Though the female voice of the ring's A.I. is a bit creepy, she thought to herself.
She does her best to safeguard the Earth, but Hal, as a Green Lantern, is responsible for the entire space sector, literally a small part of the universe. Hal Jordan is not her favorite person. Indeed, her opinion of him is rather low, chauvinistic pig that he is, but she does not deny his dedication, willpower, or sense of duty. Similarly, his long spans of absence are not begrudged by anyone in the League.
Surprisingly, only Kal, in full Superman garb, is in the Monitor Womb, sitting in front of a monitor and looking the perfect picture of boredom. A hand under his chin, check; drooping eyes, check; sleepy expression, check.
"Good morning, Diana," he says without turning.
"And to you, Kal." She refrains from remarking upon the paradox of wishing someone a good morning whilst on a space station, instead opting to sit on a nearby chair and nurse her still hot coffee. "Anyone else around?"
"Victor is tinkering with the reactor core, I think."
"Slow day?"
"Yeah." He lets out a heavy sigh, and Diana's hair flaps a little at the air current it produces. "I'll probably fly by Smallville later. Haven't visited in a while."
Diana idly notes that he is sulking. The fact that he is already here probably means that he was here most of the night, if not all of it. Probably trouble with that reporter he keeps pining after, if she's not mistaken.
Honestly, he's the strongest person on the planet and yet he is scared of a coworker. Diana doesn't think that she will ever understand his situation.
Superman, as if snapping from a trance or hearing a sudden noise, tears his eyes from the monitor in from of him and regards her with a critical eye, his hyper senses in overdrive. Her heart is giving her away, beating slightly faster than usual, and her smell is slightly different. Still, he suspects that even without super senses, her good mood would be hard to miss, with the huge smile on her face and glowing eyes. He is certain she is not even aware of how much she is smiling. His own mouth curls into a teasing grin.
He graciously waits until she is not drinking before commencing his attack. "Had fun last night, did you? You're positively glowing." Still she sputters denials and blushes fiercely. Her appreciation of innuendo has certainly grown over the years.
"No? Nothing interesting happen yesterday?" He sees the resignation her eye, as if she just remembered that she is speaking to a person who can hear everything and see anywhere.
"It was just a visit to Gotham. Bruce wanted to show me around. Why were you spying on us?" She doesn't know why exactly she is getting defensive, but she likes her privacy and demands-no, expects- that everyone respect it.
"Relax," Kal placates, "I was just in the neighborhood. I heard your voice from Gotham and found it curious, that's all."
She still regards him with suspicion, since 'being in the neighborhood' for him can mean that he was in Australia and happened to hear them. "You watched us the whole time?"
"Not really. Bruce has everything he owns lined with lead. He also outfitted the Manor and all his vehicles with something that keeps any sound from escaping, so that even I can't hear anything. I got bored around the time you left the restaurant."
"Yes, well…" She coughs awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "As I said, Bruce was just showing me around Gotham. I had never been there before, so it was an interesting experience."
"I bet it was." He winks at her teasingly, and she frowns in indignation.
"Listen here, Kal—" before she is able to tear into him for mocking her, Superman laughs, and she lets the sentence fade, not able to retain her anger.
"Sorry, sorry, you're just such an easy target. Look, what you and Bruce do with your time is your business, not mine. And besides, it's about time he did something other than beat people up or smile at people he wishes he could beat up." Hearing his description of Bruce's pastimes, she cannot hold back a laugh of her own. The mirth leaves Kal's face, and he regards her seriously.
"Honestly, Diana, I worry about Bruce sometimes. He's giving too much of himself to Gotham, to the world at large. I'm afraid that if he doesn't find something to do that helps himself and not someone else, he'll lose himself eventually. And there's no one better than you to help him with that."
Diana sighs and shakes her head, acknowledging that to deny anything to Kal would be, as they say, an exercise in futility. He can probably hear her pulse, or something equally ridiculous, to determine if she's lying.
"Am I really that transparent?"
"Alien with super senses, remember?" he says as he taps his temple. "Or, alternatively, a reporter. Blame whichever you prefer. Either way, if you were trying to hide it, you've been doing a pretty terrible job of it."
Diana grimaces. "I'm not, but I still didn't think I was being that obvious about it."
"Sorry to disappoint you then." He laughs again, and for a minute neither speaks. "I have to admit to being surprised, though. I didn't expect Bruce to be so open with you last night. And please don't tell him I was listening in. He'll probably poison the Planet's coffee machines with ground kryptonite dust, or something equally painful and fatal. Or he'll just fire me."
She ignores his humor, or at least she hopes he is joking, and instead focuses on his expectations of Bruce. She has to admit, she did not expect it either. Though Bruce was his usual gloomy self, he was also oddly accommodating and polite. He smiled more times in her presence last night than in all the years they've known each other put together. That alone should be cause for…not quite concern, but certainly interest and maybe further examination.
She thinks it a pretty safe bet to assume that he was being more positive out of respect or attraction towards her, though it's possible that he was just being a good host, or perhaps it was the absence of the Batman costume and its mental requirements. Though she is not averse to having his respect, she is rather interested in his attraction at the moment.
The whole affair is confusing her more than she thought it would. She cannot figure him out. She knows that everything he does is fully calculated, but without knowing his intention one can almost never presume things regarding the Batman.
She doesn't feel like much of a hunter at the moment, although last night was as positive a sign as she could get at this point. But if this is so, why does she feel like she is missing something? Why does she have a bad feeling?
"Do you think I have a chance, Kal?" she asks quietly, looking at her mug, now empty of coffee. She hates this feeling of insecurity. She hates the weakness it brings, but at the same time she cannot help it. Despite being an Amazon and a demigoddess, she is first and foremost a woman.
Of the people she knows and trusts, only Kal-El can claim to know Bruce, if only partially. Though no one in the world is likely to know Bruce better than the butler who raised him after his parent's deaths, she knows that the man is fiercely loyal to Bruce, so she is not sure that talking to him about it would be helpful, or productive. Hence, Kal is her only chance at gaining some insights. Maybe even—dare she think it?—answers.
Superman contemplates this question in silence for a while, his eyes never leaving Diana, searching for something there. Eventually, he exhales heavily, exaggeratedly, and answers in a somewhat tired voice, "I would say that yes, you do, but it isn't that simple. He isn't that simple.
"Bruce feels that any time he spends on himself is time that he could and should spend helping others, stopping bad guys, or both. It is a noble sentiment, but it means that he is actively avoiding even the smallest of personal comforts, gigantic mansion notwithstanding."
Neither smile at the humor, and Kal doesn't pause as if expecting her to. He keeps talking.
"I suspect that Bruce resents me a little for this. Where he views personal time as unimportant in the face of saving people, I maintain a life as Clark Kent, I go to work and socialize. He tries to understand, but he can't. He sees all my powers and abilities and it makes him wonder why I don't give it my all to stop injustice in the world, instead wasting half my time by having a regular life while people die." Kal pauses to gather his thoughts, it's obviously a subject he's thought about in length.
"The truth is that I need personal time. Without it, I would have gone mad long ago. I need to spend time among the people, with my parents, and with my friends, to replenish my energy and remind myself what it is that I fight for. Bruce needs it, too, but he denies it. I'm sure it's driving Alfred mad with worry."
A healthy pause here as well, during which all that Kal is saying swirls in Diana's head, as she tries to process and understand it. What exactly does this mean? And how exactly does she fit into this precarious balance the Dark Knight has created for himself?
"I don't doubt that he likes you, Diana. His suit may mute my super senses to a degree, but I can still see and hear like anyone can, and to anyone with those basic abilities who knows Bruce like I do it's pretty obvious that he likes you. And that's where the problem starts. Usually when Bruce enjoys something, he avoids it. He doesn't want distractions from his work. He feels that he can only be Batman if he fully devotes himself to the mission of cleaning Gotham's streets."
"But…why? I don't understand. So many other heroes are doing good work without giving themselves up. Why does he feel the need to do this?"
As before, Kal takes a while to answer. When he does, it is with cryptic words, something rare for him. "I can't tell you much. There are things that Bruce has entrusted me with. You'll have to wait until he tells you himself. However, I can tell you this: to understand Bruce, you need to first understand Batman. But to understand Batman, you must first understand Gotham."
He says nothing else, and Diana's mind is racing. She heard something similar three weeks ago when Bruce tried to explain to her why she would be better off not helping with Gotham's criminal activity. Was this an extension of that? Maybe…but still, she doesn't think that's all there is to it. By Zeus, this is all so confusing.
"If that is so, then why be so pleasant yesterday? Why invite me in the first place?"
Clark shrugs his heavily muscled shoulders. "That's why I was confused. I don't pretend to fully understand Bruce. I don't think anyone does. But the point of is that if you are serious about trying things with him, you can't let yourself be hurt or put off by his attitude. Maybe he will relent, but he may not. Think very carefully about every move you make."
"But yesterday was a good sign, was it not? I'm certain that he had fun, even if he tried to hide it." Her elation on last night's so-called success is evaporating rapidly, and she doubts her own words. Bruce did appear to enjoy her company yesterday, but did he, really? And, if he did, what now?
"I assume so. I don't know. I'm not the best when it comes to relationships. Hell, look at my own love life, the joke that it is." And just like that Bruce is forgotten and Kal goes back to his sulking, staring moodily at the monitor.
Seeing this, Wonder Woman brings her impressive willpower to bear against the encroaching thoughts about Batman. Diana slowly puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiles kindly. Her own troubled thoughts can wait for later. Kal helped her, and she will try her best to do the same. His brooding is not nearly as attractive as Bruce's anyway, she thinks to herself.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he replies petulantly, holding his head in his hands. It is funny, in a sad sort of way.
Diana knows that he does. With a bit more prompting, they launch into Kal's woes about a certain reporter, until well after lunchtime.
~W~
The Siege
~W~
Unfortunately, Superman's words proved eerily prophetic.
In the months following their night out in Gotham City, Diana's frustration with the Watchtower's resident billionaire kept rising. And the problem was that she did not have a good enough excuse to act on it.
As Kal predicted, Batman was avoiding her. Well, not exactly avoiding, considering they had to work together and function as a cohesive unit, but the principle was the same. She wishes it was as simple as avoidance. That she could deal with. While he was too smooth to simply pull one of his disappearing acts every time she entered the room or avoid talking to her, Diana had instantly noted a change in their dynamic.
When she first asked him about their night out, the day after it happened he had given a vague, noncommittal answer, and then chided her for being distracted during League business. Unable to deny that he was right, she held off until the team went their separate ways. As she attempted to catch up after the team meeting disbanded, she entered the corridor just six seconds behind Batman only to find it empty. She instantly knew that she would not find him again, short of taking a teleporter to Gotham. No matter, she had thought, there's always tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the following day had yielded no results, nor did the day after, nor the following week. Batman would work with her just as well as he always had, showing no signs that anything was amiss between them. However, that rare smile that she would occasionally coax out of him became even rarer.
Their banter subsided and the flirting all but vanished. That wasn't quite right, either. She would still prompt him occasionally, but where before he would respond with a snappy line with a double meaning and a vague smile, in the last few months he would simply ignore her. The few times he did respond in kind, he seemed to instantly get mad at himself, in that silent, seething way of his, as if he did something that he shouldn't have done. And then Diana figured it out.
As much as he wanted to give the impression that nothing was wrong, Diana understood that he was trying very hard to be professional with her, and nothing else. Every time she would try to talk to him on the Watchtower while not on a mission, he would answer cordially but offer little in return. Questions about the second part of their tour were blown off with one excuse or another. It was always hard to make small talk with Batman, but now she just felt silly even trying. Judging by their teammates' faces every time they saw her trying, they felt the same.
Then there was the fact that often times, Batman couldn't make it to meetings, since Gotham constantly required his presence. To his credit, when he had a serious case that needed his full attention, he notified the League in advance.
It's not like she had the time to devote to cracking Bruce. Hal Jordan's absence had strained the Justice League under the weight of Earth's emergencies. There were other superhero teams around the globe, but none as capable or well-informed as them, so they got the lion's share of the load.
Added to that, Strife had started popping up in her life again. She would not openly antagonize her, but her supposed platitudes were equally alarming to the suspicious Amazonian ambassador.
Two months of this and Diana was near her breaking point. She considers herself a patient, understanding person, but Batman's behavior was driving even her beyond her limit.
Never before had she been more grateful for Hal Jordan's arrival, not even during life or death situations. He returned, just short of three months after he left, looking more sullen than any of them had seen him before. He explained how he had helped his instructor and mentor, Sinestro, the Green Lantern of space sector 1417, repel an invasion on his own homeworld of Korugar. However, soon after that he found out that Sinestro was the dictator of his world, with unrelenting totalitarian methods. He and other Green Lanterns had brought Sinestro to the Guardians for trial and punishment. This development had obviously been harsh on Hal, who held great respect for Sinestro.
His bad mood after his return held for all of a month, during which there was blessed silence, but soon the Green Lantern was back on his usual high spirits. Barry Allen helped him a lot in this, since apparently the two were good friends from before the League's formation. Much as his behavior towards women disgusted Diana, she couldn't help but be grateful that he returned when he did. With Hal picking up the slack with the League, that left Diana with more time to figure out what she was going to do with the resident Bat.
Obviously what she was doing was not going to work. Batman was too controlled in the Watchtower, his excuses to leave too numerous. So, with her workload lightened, she tried to, as they say, up the ante. About three months after that night out in Gotham City, she informed him in no uncertain terms that she would visit Wayne Manor again, and that he'd better be there.
They had just finished their biweekly meeting in the Hall of Justice, and he was on his way to the Transporter Room, as usual. He had narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, which was as good as an agreement from him. In truth, Diana was not sure what she would have done if he'd expressly forbidden her to come. But she was positive that he wouldn't do that. His new policy was to pretend nothing was wrong, and taking advantage of that, he couldn't break his earlier word. That meant she could still come to Gotham so long as it was a strictly social call. She had been right.
Of course, she should have expected that it wouldn't have been so easy. When she visited the first time, Bruce was there, but he'd excused himself after ten minutes and left to attend to some business or another. Having his permission to stay if she wanted, she was left at the Main Hall, staring awkwardly at the spot Bruce had just vacated and unsure of what to do next. And that damn fountain was messing with her thinking. Honestly, who has a fountain inside their house?
Eventually, Alfred came to her rescue, and led her to a relatively normal—statues and paintings notwithstanding—sitting room with comfortable couches, a gigantic TV, and some light reading materials nearby. He'd offered to make her a beverage or a snack, but she'd declined, instead asking him to sit and talk with her. The polite Englishman gave her a smile and complied. They had talked for a few hours. Alfred Pennyworth made for good conversation, even if he refused to call her anything other than 'Miss Diana' or 'Her Highness', no matter how many times she asked. He had a dry wit that went along fabulously with his perfect manners, and that seemed to be brought to the fore anytime the Manor's other inhabitants, past or present, were brought up.
They talked a little about Alfred's past, about England, about Gotham, Themyscira, Bruce, and a number of other things. Eventually she thanked him and left. The aging butler had given her a kind smile and implored her to not judge his master too harshly for his rudeness, and that he would 'certainly have words with him. I taught him better manners than that'. That memory always brings a smile to Diana's face.
Even if Alfred did have that talk with Bruce, it appeared to have little effect. It did help a bit, because she managed to persuade Bruce to help her choose an apartment in Gotham and order a full wardrobe, but nothing beyond that. Bruce had made it a point to mention how he would have done the same for all of his teammates, and she'd gotten the hint.
Through the following few months she would visit Gotham when she had enough time to do so, and every time Bruce would talk to her for a bit before politely brushing her off. Indeed, the difference in his behavior while out of the Batman costume was startling. He always had a good excuse, of course, but Diana knew what he was doing. He knew that she knew what he was doing. If this was a battle of wills, of patience, Diana knew she would win. She was an immortal demigoddess, she had all the time in the world. If Bruce wanted to bunker down and deny her and himself, she would lay siege until he relented. She had not given up on the hunt just yet. She had smelled blood, and as much as her prey ran, she would catch up. Truly, Artemis would be proud. Then again, sworn virgin goddess and all, maybe she wouldn't, but she digresses.
She would occasionally manage to corner Bruce and get to spend some quality time with him, but he always steered clear of matters concerning them, and completely closed off and came up with an excuse to leave if she brought it up.
Even if she had made only a little progress in cracking Bruce's resolve, she did have some interesting encounters while she visited Wayne Manor. Alfred was her usual company, but many times she would spend some time with Jason when he wasn't doing Robin stuff or studying. The young boy was very awkward and nervous at first, but seeing no immediate wrath from his adopted father, he slowly started to open up to her, though he never talked about the time before he was adopted by Bruce and brought to Wayne Manor.
She had also met Bruce's eldest child, Richard Grayson. One evening she was in the Manor speaking to Alfred when she saw him walk past. He had obviously emerged from Batman's underground headquarters, the legendary Batcave, as he was in full Nightwing regalia. A black, form-fitting, custom brand of Kevlar with a blue shape that converged on the chest and back from his shoulders, along with a facemask. Unlike Batman's cowl, Nightwing let his hair flow freely, the unruly black mop barely reaching his shoulders and sometimes falling in front of his eyes, an easy smile always present on his lips.
He was not surprised by her presence, and greeted her warmly, recognizing her instantly despite her civilian appearance, or simply being pre-emptively informed of her presence. He'd removed his facemask and introduced himself, smiling widely. She was very surprised at how different he was from Bruce, and even Jason.
Where Bruce was direct and serious with the occasional bout of snarky humor and where Jason was closed off, distrustful, and nervous, Dick was a positive jokester kind of person. He sympathized with her for her dealings with Bruce and told her to 'hang in there', whatever that meant. They talked for a bit while Dick waited for Alfred to do something or other, and she learned a bit about Blüdhaven and about how Bruce had bought Dick his bike when he turned eighteen.
He gave fond recounts of his time as Robin and as a member of the Titans, his childhood team, since disbanded. He asked a bit about the League, claiming Bruce was not a very good storyteller. She answered his questions as best as she could without compromising the League, and Dick laughed when she told him that it was Batman who wrote those, and indeed all, protocols. Eventually Alfred returned and Dick left, heading up to his room.
Dick was certainly an interesting person, and a dedicated hero in his own right. Though his speech patterns often left Diana confused, since he mostly used expressions that she was not yet familiar with. One time, Dick had taken notice of Jason not-so-subtly stealing glances at Diana, and instead of ignoring it like she did, he had laughed in his face. Jason had blushed crimson, and Richard had rubbed his head while saying: "Way out of your league, junior. Leave it to the bossman, he's all over it." Diana was familiar with all the words, but she was certain that it was an expression, since she had discerned no meaning from them. She paid it no mind, however, knowing that boys will be boys and that siblings tend to tease each other.
She had briefly met Barbara Gordon while on her visits, who recognized her as Wonder Woman and introduced herself as Batgirl, claiming to be a fan of hers. Though they hadn't spoken much, she liked the girl. She was a recent college graduate, with a degree in forensics psychology and the daughter of the police Commissioner, James Gordon, with whom Batman apparently had something of a partnership. She had not met the Commissioner himself, but from what she was told, he is a pleasant enough character, as equally dedicated to cleaning Gotham's streets as any of them.
As members of the, as Alfred had fondly dubbed it, 'Batfamily' came and went, Diana realized that there was more than one hidden passage and entrance to the Batcave from the manor's interior. Though she suspected certain rooms held such passages, she made no effort to find out specifically or, Heaven forbid, snoop around. Ignoring the fact that she was certain that Bruce would know, this wasn't what she was here to do. If he wanted to show her the Batcave, he would. She wasn't here for Batman, she was here for Bruce Wayne.
That's not to say that her visits were fruitless. Besides getting to know Bruce's family, there were a few occasions which made the whole effort worth it. Times that Bruce would slip, or times that she would witness a truly majestic side of him, when dealing with his family.
On one such occasion, she had visited late in the evening, hoping Bruce would be a little more malleable before patrol. Predictably, she had no such luck, and she'd ended up sitting alone in the same sitting room she had spoken with Alfred in her first visit, reading a magazine, too bored to go home just yet.
Many years later, she would be told how the whole scene began…
~W~
"Master Bruce, there is a matter that requires your attention."
Down in the Batcave, Alfred was addressing Batman, who was sitting in front of the Batcomputer monitors, fully dressed and ready for patrol.
"What is it?"
"Master Jason is sick with the flu. It wouldn't be at all prudent to allow him to join you on patrol tonight."
Batman didn't even look up from the terminals.
"He's a smart kid, Alfred. He knows if he's well enough."
Robin chose this time to make his presence known.
"That's telling him." He paused to let out a sickly cough. "Ready?" he asked Batman.
Said crimefighter rose from his chair and headed towards the Batmobile. Turning to look back at Alfred and Jason, he addressed his adopted son.
"Alfred is right, Robin."
Robin sagged, recognizing that what Batman said would go.
"Yes, sir," he mumbled dejectedly, staring at the floor.
"You're sidelined until you get better."
'Hmph."
Robin didn't wait to watch his father leave; he instead headed up to the Manor after tearing off his mask. He stomped his way to the sitting room where Diana was reading her magazine. Ignoring her, he sat on the couch and drew his knees up to his chest, doing a very good impersonation of Bruce's brooding coupled with teenage angst. Diana said nothing, not wanting to upset the clearly sick youngster.
Alfred appeared not long after with a bowl of soup for Jason. He set the soup on the sitting room table in front of him, then picked up the TV remote control, turning on the television and saying, "Let's see what's on the telly tonight."
Leaving the television on a channel he thought Jason might enjoy, he picked up the tray and moved to leave.
"I'm not a baby! I can take care of myself!" Jason shouted after him, distressed.
"Then I wish you would, Master Jason." Alfred's retort is not angry, just resigned and tired. The same voice he's using when Bruce is being unreasonable about his health.
A few minutes pass during which Jason picks at his soup, while looking gloomily at the television. Alfred had appeared at the edge of the room near a staircase and stood straight, waiting until his services were needed.
Diana was gathering her thoughts to try and cheer up the troubled teen when the unthinkable happened.
Batman- no, Bruce- came into the room, without his cowl and holding his cape in his hand. Diana would have stared open-mouthed if she wasn't acutely aware of the delicacy of the situation. Bruce went and stood behind the couch Jason was at. Jason looked up at his father, but Bruce was instead staring at the television.
"Taking a night off once in a while isn't a crime, Jason."
Then he settled himself on the couch besides his son, and graciously accepted the bowl of popcorn offered by Alfred.
"So, what are we watching?" he asked, taking the remote.
Two hours later, Diana couldn't hold back her fond smile as she watched Jason sleep with a contented expression, leaning up against Bruce's shoulder and covered by his cape, as Bruce kept on watching the television and finishing off the popcorn. Bruce's eyes would alternate between the television and Jason, affection for his adopted son clear for everyone to see. Behind them, Alfred was beaming.
She couldn't wipe the smile off her face even as she bade Bruce good night, wanting to leave the family to themselves. Bruce graced her with a smile of his own, and she felt her knees weaken and a flutter in her stomach. When was the last time he had smiled at her? Their not-date, probably. Months.
Opting not to say anything right now, lest she ruin a perfectly good situation and Bruce's mood, she left. Alfred accompanied her to the door, neither of them saying what was on their minds, both sporting equally pleased expressions.
It was moments like this that Diana saw how deeply Bruce cared. No matter how he presented himself to the rest the world, Diana knew the truth. He loved his sons, he loved Alfred, he loved Barbara, he loved Gotham, and the world at large. He loved Kal as his brother, he respected his teammates, and he had a soft spot for her. Many called him inhuman, but there was no person on Earth more human than Bruce Wayne.
These were her thoughts as she flew her way to her new apartment in Gotham City.
~W~
That specific occasion had been two months ago. A full nine months have passed since her original tour, and Diana has not given up. Nor does she plan to. But Bruce is equally unrelenting. Has she really made any progress in the last nine months?
Yes, but not enough. It's not working, it's not enough! She has to do something else, something drastic. Either it will work and something will give, or Bruce will snap and just tell her to leave him alone. She's not sure what she'll do if he does that. Kal's words of warning still resound in her mind, even after nine months.
Today, she has a plan. This week has been quiet, no serious threat appearing and little in the way of natural disasters to keep them occupied. The team has taken to teamwork exercises and upgrading the Watchtower.
Today, she will do something. Enough of the games, enough messing around. She's had enough of his avoidance and his brush offs. She will confront him today, and he will not leave until they have resolved this, one way or another.
She watches as Batman performs the monthly maintenance on the Watchtower's hardware, he and Victor talking in hushed tones about things that she does not understand in the slightest, nor does she have the inclination to try to. She does her best to keep up conversation with Barry while keeping her attention to Batman. Superman is quizzing Green Lantern on various alien races, and Hal is only too happy to talk at length about his various encounters and dealings with them.
She notes Batman and Cyborg finishing their work and gathering the few tools they used. Batman bids goodbye to Cyborg and moves to leave. Wonder Woman catches the slight flit of his eyes towards her, and smiles.
She excuses herself from the Flash and heads towards Batman before he has time to leave the Monitor Womb.
"Batman, a word?"
Batman turns to look at her, and notes her determined expression and the fierce look in her eyes. She can almost see his mind furiously work as he figures it out.
"Fine. Come," he grounds out. He can't just ignore her in front of their teammates, and she knows it. If there is discord between the Big Three, they might as well disband the team. Bruce knows this, and Diana banked on it. The gambit worked perfectly.
She follows him out of the room, and they head to an empty briefing room near the Transporter Room.
As the door hisses closed, Batman turns to look at her, frowning. Diana is not intimidated, but she is perfectly aware that she must pick her words carefully.
"This has to stop, Bruce."
"What does?"
"Don't patronize me!" she shouts in frustration, the urge to break something rising. Her anger, accumulated over nine months, begins to spill.
"You know very well what I'm talking about."
Batman is not moved by her show of anger.
"Is this about the tour again?"
"Yes—no it's not about the damn tour!" She almost yells. "It's you. Stop what you're doing. Stop avoiding me, stop avoiding what we have before it's even started!" Her plan is crumbling, and she realizes that this is not at all what she had planned on saying. No matter how much she tries, however, she cannot remember what it was that she had planned to say.
"We are teammates, colleagues. I respect you. There is nothing further. Your numerous visits to my home should have made that clear by now." Though he tries to keep his tone as level as always, Diana can sense the waver in it, and it only makes her madder. His iron-hard control is slipping, but he still insists on being stubborn!
"Stop lying! You're lying to me and you're lying to yourself! We can have something, and it scares you. Well no more! We will sit and talk about this like adults." In an act of controversy, she pokes his chest; hard. A lesser man would have flinched in pain or rubbed the spot she poked, but Batman doesn't even twitch.
"There is nothing to talk about, Princess. I have made myself clear." He moves to brush past her and exit the room. The sheer nerve on that man!
Just as he passes by her, Diana catches his arm and holds him in place. She is applying enough force to stop his momentum but not enough to bruise him through his gauntlet. He turns his cowled head to look at her, and the Amazon realizes that their heads are inches apart. Her breath hitches, and for a moment she is back at the fundraiser, dancing with Bruce, their faces again only inches apart.
The split-second passes, and the moment with it.
"Let. Me. Go," he says slowly, dangerously, his voice is almost like a growl, forced out from deep inside his throat.
"No, Bruce. We will talk about this. You know I like you, and I know you like me. Why must you make this so hard, why must you confuse things so?" She is trying to be strong, but Bruce's continued rejection is crushing her. She is not so certain that he does, in fact, like her. Batman has given signs, sure, but how can she be certain when he denies it so vehemently and over so many months?
Her emotional state is in tatters. She's never felt like this in all her twenty six years. She's never before had these emotions for a man, or anyone for that matter, and she almost doesn't recognize herself anymore. She is the strongest of the Amazons, she has defeated or outsmarted gods in combat and she is one of the strongest of Earth's protectors, yet in these matters, she is no better than a teenage girl, worrying over her first crush.
Still Bruce says nothing, only glaring at the hand holding him in place. This is not an expression she can bear to see on his face right now, the frowning Batman cowl making matters all the worse.
Terrible thoughts cross her mind, as they are wont to do in a woman going through her first love, rejection, or a combination of the two. Is it her fault? Is it something she did, or something she didn't do, or something she said? Or does he really not like her in that way, and the signs have all been born of her hopeful mind? What if Kal was wrong?
"Why can't you at least try? What else do you want from me? Why can't I be enough?" Her voice gets progressively lower, its angry edge long since lost. She hates herself for these words, for they are the words of an insecure girl hopelessly crushing over a man. She hates herself for doing this, but she cannot stop. These are true fears, and her voice is laced with desperation as she clutches at his arm, refusing to let go. Her vision blurs with tears, and the tingling on her cheeks and wetness on her lips lets her know that she has failed to contain them all.
Bruce is left speechless, his mouth half-open, the words he meant to say forgotten. Her words make him whip his head upwards and stare at her face, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Does she really think like this? Has he made her think, what? That he doesn't consider her good enough? That there is something, anything, about her that he despises? Has he brought a woman as strong and as independent as her to such a point of insecurity and self-doubt? His guilt nearly overwhelms him, to have once again brought such a strong woman to tears. He hates himself at this moment; he hates how it is necessary that he does this. But is it truly necessary? It's taken every single fiber of his self-control to not give in over these past nine months, but has it truly been worth it?
He remembers the night of her first visit well. He started off seeing it as an obligation, a promise to be fulfilled, borne of a moment of pity on his part. As the evening went on, no one was more surprised than he when he realized that he was actually enjoying himself. He found himself having fun. Fun, of all things! 'Fun' for him is a concept that died that terrible night along with his parents. It is not fun that will stop it from ever happening again, it is not fun that will stop kids from being orphaned or killed by some madman. It is neither love nor fun that keeps Gotham from crumbling unto itself! Gotham needs Batman, and Batman needs Bruce Wayne to be focused on his work, not on his love life.
When their not-date was coming to a close, he remembers that for a few horrifying moments he considered postponing patrol for a few hours, or not going altogether. The prospect of spending more time with Diana was too enticing. When he caught himself with those thoughts, he knew it could never happen again. He could not allow the Batman to slip just because he started having feelings for a woman, even one as formidable as Diana.
As he told Robin, taking a night off once in a while is not a crime. But this is different. If he had allowed things between him and Diana to continue and evolve, the consequences for Batman would have been cataclysmic, there is no doubt about that. It is not a matter of a few hours for a date now and then. He is intelligent enough to know how things would progress from there, if he allowed it, and it is indeed a scary prospect for him.
But she doesn't know any of this. She can only see his rejection, not the reasons behind it. And how can he explain himself to her, how can he explain in a way she can understand? This is not the same as all those months ago, when she angrily confronted him over Gotham City. This is much more personal, and he doubts she will view his reasons as anything other than excuses, anyway. She doesn't understand.
He had thought that Diana would eventually resign, understanding that things wouldn't work out between them, and move on. Maybe find someone else that interests her, some nice bloke from London, perhaps. The mere idea had twisted his insides, but he knew it was for the best.
That is the thought process that has kept him going for the last months, whenever she visited his home. But now, looking at the woman he admires most of all, in tears because of him, he feels guilt tear him apart from the inside. Here he is, the man hailed as the world's greatest detective, proven wrong by a woman he thought he'd had completely figured out. Yet, here they are. She has not given up, and somehow managed to turn the truth on its head to think that it's her fault. What was supposed to be a simple progression of events has spiraled out of control.
And now she is crying.
This is wrong. He must stop this, she must not cry anymore. He caused this, he must do something to make it stop, anything. He opens his mouth to speak, for once in his life not knowing what will come out.
"Diana, I—"
Whatever he was going to say is cut off as the personal communicator in his cowl goes off. He inwardly unleashes a flurry of curses in several languages, as he recognizes the emergency signal from the Batcave. He instantly brings his free arm to his left ear and presses the communications device in his cowl, activating it and opening the channel.
"What is it?" he hisses angrily into the device. Diana's head snaps up and looks at him, her keen hearing and their very close proximity allowing her to easily pick up Alfred's voice.
"Master Bruce, you must come at once." Alfred's voice is frantic and almost panicked. Diana has never heard that tone from him. Apparently it's not common, because Bruce's tone is equally frantic.
"What happened?"
"It's Master Jason, sir. I cannot find him, or track him."
Eyes wide, Diana immediately releases Bruce's arm as his gaze falls on her. His mouth is now set in a firm, grave line as he rushes out of the door and breaks into a run toward the Transporter Room.
He notices that Diana is hot on his tail.
"No!" he barks out. "Stay out of Gotham!"
He doesn't slow down or wait for her to say something, instead running to the nearest transporter, setting it up with deft movements of his fingers, and promptly vanishing.
Diana is left frozen outside the Transporter Room. Her vision swimming, she slams herself against the corridor's wall, her back leaning heavily against it. Tears flow freely out of her eyes as she fights to control her breathing.
She slowly slides down and ends up sitting on the floor, holding her head in her hands and forming fists in her hair. Her mind is everywhere at once. On Jason, on Bruce, on Bruce's order to not help him, on his tone, on her own stupidity, on the utter disaster that was their confrontation.
She just sits there pathetically, quietly and does what she hasn't done since she was nine years old.
She hugs her knees to her chest tightly, and cries.
~W~