A/N: Thank you for the reviews! More angst I'm afraid, but then you were expecting that weren't you?

Chapter Nine - Our City

She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but in those dark days immediately after Bruce's death, Diana had left the Justice League in all but name, to take her new place – with the Batclan. It was strange… there had been no outward decision, but it was never questioned. Batman, who had so fiercely opposed metas working and patrolling in his city, would never have let her be fully integrated into his family. However, Dick, and Alfred and Tim had accepted it with no objection whatsoever. Barbara, too, though they'd never gotten further than small talk in the past, had bonded with her surprisingly quickly.

Gotham was no longer Batman's much-repeated my city – it was now our city. Which was definitely a good thing, since every criminal on the East coast was making like it was Mardi Gras. Clark told her he'd actually found a flyer up in Metropolis, advertising that Gotham was now a free house. As if there was a single person in the northern hemisphere who didn't know that Batman was gone. Dick had requested that Diana patrol with he and Tim every night, since the influx of scumbags was simply too much to handle for them alone.

She would look at them at the end of every night and think how proud he'd be of his sons.

It was a struggle she went through with every single criminal now – just as she knew it would be. Killing, now that she'd done it once, wasn't addictive, exactly, but it was… It was seductive. It was simple. Permanent. The temptation of it hovered at the edge of her mind constantly, taunting her with just how easy it would be. Because it had been easy. Humans – mortals – were such very fragile things, after all. If nothing else, murdering the Joker had reminded Diana of just how very terrifyingly strong she was. Dick and Tim were not that strong, but still more than capable of taking those last fatal steps toward becoming killers, and they hadn't. Diana didn't think they'd even come close to it.

She'd sworn never to wear the armour of Athena again, and had stuck to that. She wore now whatever she had on, usually something in black - and her bracers, of course. She was still an Amazon... even if she was a broken one. She didn't need a costume to inspire fear now, not with the Joker fresh in the mind of every criminal in the city. Most of the time she only needed to turn up, and they would simply tuck tail and run. It wasn't something she was used to – people saw her, and they opened fire, but they didn't run. They'd run from Batman, though, and it made her feel like she was replacing him. Perhaps she'd feel less like that if there were more of them, if the League got involved too; but she knew that however guilty trying to be Batman made her feel, it would be worse to see anyone else here. It would be like spitting on his grave.

Which was another matter they had to sort out. Where he would be buried did not even require thinking about, of course, but the funeral... Would it be a private, quiet affair? She doubted it. Even with a simple funeral a journalist would do his or her very best to sneak in. Diana was having a hard enough time dealing with the idea of Lois being there. She could cope with the idea of her there as one of Bruce's loves, as Clark's wife, as a friend. The fact that she was a reporter, though... Diana wasn't sure she could trust her anymore. She was running short of names of people she could trust.

It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

The problem was that people were demanding more than a small service. Once the reporters had realised that no one in the Wayne family or connected to it was willing to give them more than a 'no comment', they contented themselves with harassing the police and giving Bruce's many floozies the time of day. Then, once the press vanished, the mourners arrived. Within a day, the flowers were piled four rows deep against the Manor gates. In a week, a dozen rows. It was like the Princess of Wales all over again – and, like then, was probably heading toward a state funeral. There were hundreds of Gotham citizens whose lives he had saved personally, thousands indirectly. Even people who had never been sure of Batman's existence, or been scared about him even if they had known, arrived to pay their respects. More than once, Diana had seen whole families stop there and place something at the gates, or sometimes just lone individuals. So far, no criminal had been stupid enough to try and disrupt the proceedings.

Even the League wasn't immune. Dick ended up having to disable the main inbound teleport link to the Watch and Metro Towers, since now everyone knew where the Batcave was located. Diana had given the override code to the other Founders, with strict instructions that no one else was to come.

Clark had come, ten days after Bruce's death. She was there, as she always was now. She'd let him in through the front door, took him down to the Cave, and held him while he wept. When he'd stopped, he touched Bruce's face. In the chill of the subterranean environment, he was in stasis. "You've cleaned him."

"Did you expect us to leave him as he was?" she spat.

"No, I didn't mean… I-I'm sorry, Diana..."

There was a silence. "I keep expecting it to not be real," she whispered. "For it to have been part of some case, which for some stupid and noble reason he couldn't tell us about. Like to rid Gotham of..."

Clark knew where she was heading, and turned from his best friend. "He would never use you like that, Diana," he frowned.

"Use me?" she questioned. "Clark... I would have done it for him gladly. I still would. If it brought him back... I'd do anything."

His frown deepened. "You don't mean that."

She focused her gaze on Bruce. "What if I do, Clark?" she asked. "What if I told you that if it brought him back I'd happily tear the world apart?"

"Stop it."

She looked at him. He looked afraid. From somewhere, a feeling that was lot like bitter triumph welled up. If she could make Superman feel fear, what couldn't she do? The answer came all-too-swiftly – she couldn't save the man she loved.

"Sorry," she said, not at all meaning it. He nodded, but apparently had caught her true feelings, since the worried expression didn't fade from his face.

"Um... there's a Founders' meeting tonight. There are... things were need to talk about."

"Fine," she said blankly. There was a hurt silence, and she realised that they were shattered, the two of them. They were nothing without the third. One thing she knew for certain, though – Bruce would not have wanted them to break so easily. Her lethargy not to do anything had persisted during the daylight hours since – there was no point in doing anything. Now, though, she needed to make an effort. Clark was her best friend, and now she was his.

Under other circumstances, she might have prayed to the gods for strength, but she didn't. Diana had not spoken to any of the gods since that night.

"Kal," she said quietly, "do you want a cup of coffee?"

He hesitated, but recognised the offer for what it was. "Yes," he said finally. "Thank you."

She led him back upstairs, and made them two cups. Alfred would do the hula before he'd allow freeze-dried coffee in his kitchen, but it wasn't difficult to make filter coffee. She poured them both a cup, and sipped immediately, welcoming the burn in her mouth.

She looked at Clark. He looked like a schoolboy waiting to be called into the principal's office. "So..." How did one start a conversation, anyway? Suddenly she'd totally forgotten. Small talk. She had been reduced to making small talk with her best friend in the whole world. "How's Lois?"

"Good," he said, almost too quickly. A long pause. "She's in Tokyo at the moment. Story."

She nodded. Couldn't bring herself to ask what story. As long as it wasn't Bruce, Diana didn't really give a damn. "How's Tim holding up?" Clark asked.

Diana tried for the most accurate answer. "Well. So is Dick." It's me who isn't holding up at all. "Busy, obviously."

When Bruce's identity had been disclosed, it wasn't just him who had paid for it. Anyone with any kind of intelligence immediately made the connection between Richard Greyson and Nightwing, Tim Drake and Robin. Tim hadn't gone back to school, and Dick hadn't returned to work in Bludhaven. She knew he wanted to go back – to watch over his city if nothing else, but so far his sense of duty towards Bruce was proving more powerful and he remained in Gotham. For now his two sons had assumed their night-time identities full-time, forcing themselves into a punishing routine. She knew Dick wasn't sleeping much; he'd come home exhausted from patrol but then straightaway go to the Batcave, in the gym for five or six hours at a time. Diana wasn't even sure when – or if – he was sleeping. Tim was punishing himself less vigourously, but several times Diana had walked past his bedroom and heard him sobbing through the door.

Alfred had all but disappeared. She hadn't seen him in two days. The house was still immaculate, the meals were still being prepared, but the Englishman was mysteriously missing from all aspects of daily life – as though he'd suddenly become a ghost.

Clark nodded, then timidly asked, "Any news on Harley Quinn?"

Diana's cup smashed in her hand. Clark flinched as scalding liquid went in all directions. She didn't. Somehow, in the time between the Joker's death and the police going inside, Harley had vanished, and hadn't reappeared since. Diana had no idea where she was, but hopefully she'd realise that what the princess had done was to release her from a crippling, violent relationship. She didn't think so though, somehow. She swore, however, that if the former psychologist showed her face in Gotham again... she'd pay for what she did to Bruce. Maybe marginally less harshly than the Joker, maybe. Diana had yet to decide.

"No," she said tightly. Standing up, she grabbed a dishcloth from the sink and began mopping up the spilt coffee.

Clark's hand settled over hers. "Diana."

"Yes?"

"I – You're cold," he said, his tone full of wonderment. "You're never cold."

She looked up at him. "You're mistaken, Kal. I've been cold for two weeks."

His expression changed to something that, if she had to name, she'd have gone with you're not kidding. Whatever he was thinking, though, his next actions caused a storm of guilt in Diana. He embraced her tightly. Recognising what he was doing, Diana accepted his offer; she hugged back with all the strength she had in her. No bones cracked. No air was forced from his lungs. No organs were pulped. It was liberating.

She still couldn't cry, though.

They knelt like that on the floor together for a long time; when she next looked up it was dark. Clark shifted, his head tilting as he heard something no one else could. "Sorry, Diana, I have to go."

She nodded. "Alright."

He made to stand, and she clutched his sleeve. "Kal."

"What is it?"

"Stay safe," she implored.

He nodded, kissed her cheek. "I will."

Once he was gone, she headed down to the Cave. As expected, Tim and Dick were already down there, sparring. It helped a little that neither of them looked or moved like Bruce. They'd been trained by him, and trained exceptionally, but both had different styles, different movements.

Diana bypassed them and headed for the weapons room. There were some things in here that Bruce obviously hadn't been ready to put into operation yet, as well as others he used on a regular basis. There were thousands of batarangs, for instance, and more than a hundred grapples. It had been Alfred's suggestion that they make an inventory of what was useable, what was not, what needed destroying, which in-progress projects they might be able to complete. Diana was about halfway through. Because of the nature of what Batman did, it required most of her concentration to look out for things that would and wouldn't explode as soon as she picked them up.

About an hour later, she frowned as she noticed a set of batarangs that looked exactly like the others, but were stored in a separate part of the room. Picking on up somewhat gingerly, she carried it into the main Cave and placed it under the scanner of the computer. A few moments later the results flashed up onscreen. She had been right to be cautious. It had been coated with a thin layer of venom that would paralyse – but not kill – an enemy if the poison got into their bloodstream within ten seconds.

"What is that?" Tim's voice asked, coming from just behind her.

She pointed at the information. "It's designed for enemies larger in bulk than yourself, I'd imag-"

Suddenly she stiffened at a voice sounding in her mind. Diana?

Alarmed, she replied straight away. J'onn. Is everything alright?

Yes, he sent back quickly. Then there was a pause. You're late for the Founders meeting.

Late for... It was a moment before comprehension crossed her mind. Right. There still existed a world outside of Gotham. She was still a member of the Justice League. Oh, she finally replied. I see. I'll be right up. She felt J'onn withdraw from her mind, and found Tim looking in concern at her. She offered a weak smile in reassurance. "I have to go," she said quickly, hating the words. She couldn't leave them alone, surely? But still... she did have other responsibilities too. "I have to… Founders' meeting, I..."

Dick only offered a short nod. "Fine," he said calmly.

Diana squeezed Tim's shoulder, who wasn't looking all that reassured in his older brother's confidence. "I'm only a com-link away," she said. "Call me if anything happens. I'll be back soon."

He nodded uncertainly.

Without another word, she transported up to the Watchtower. Upon her arrival, Diana headed straight to the conference room. When she entered, the rest of the Founders were gathered already, looking as though they were trying hard not to notice the gaping hole at the table. Diana wanted to tell them they were all failing miserably. "Sorry I'm late," she said. "It slipped my mind."

Flash nodded. "Yeah. We didn't want to, but..."

"We've left it too long as it is," completed John.

Superman handed around sheaves of paper to everyone; four sheets stapled at the top corner, each with lists of Watchtower components. Diana flicked through hers with a frown. "What's this?"

"A list of maintenance items," Superman answered. "Bits of the Watchtower that need repairing."

"So?" she asked, beginning to feel her irritation turn to anger – she'd been called away from Gotham because of a maintenance meeting?! Suddenly Diana was beginning to understand why Bruce had always seemed so irritated by having to attend these gatherings.

"So..." He shrugged helplessly, as if it were painfully obvious. "There's no more money coming in, Diana."

"No more –" Her mouth fell open as she realised just what he was saying. The sheets in her hand crumpled. "No more money?!" she demanded, slamming her fist down on the table. It left a sizeable dent, but Diana couldn't have cared less – fury was coursing through her. "We haven't even buried Bruce yet and already you're discussing him as if all he was a bank balance!" She stood up, still shouting. "Next you'll be talking about who's to replace him on the Founders' Council!" No one said anything, and the few who had been making eye-contact immediately looked away. Diana's fury turned abruptly to complete shock – there wasn't room for rage. Yet. "Athena's mercy," she whispered, "you actually have, haven't you?"

Clark finally spoke. "Green Arrow's name has come up a few times." He still didn't look directly at her.

She let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh how convenient. We lost one billionaire and oh, look! We found another one!"

"It isn't like that!" he protested, also standing up.

"No?" she asked, no longer smiling. "Then what is it like, Kal?"

"We have no choice, Diana," he muttered, sinking back into his seat and burying his face in one massive hand. "Life... Life goes on. The world goes on," he added.

"No, it doesn't!" she shouted passionately. Suddenly shouting wasn't enough, so she upended the table instead, sending it hurtling into the wall, narrowly missing Shayera. "It stops! It ends! Don't you dare for one second imagine that nothing is going to change!"

With that, her voice broke, and she stormed from the room. Before the door shut, though, she heard Flash speak.

"Well... that went well."

She didn't go far – not yet. Though she was still firmly intending to return to Gotham, she couldn't go to Bruce's sons so quickly after being told that the League was... replacing him. In order to calm down a little, she picked the corridor, and stood, looking out over the Earth. Clark's words still echoed in her ears. Life... Life goes on. The world goes on.

For one second, she found true hatred in her heart for that planet, and for all the people on it. Then she felt J'onn's presence at her back. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Diana."

She gestured at Earth. "He's right, J'onn. Look at it. It looks exactly the same as it always has. I could be anywhere except Gotham, and it would be exactly the same as it's always been."

"I know," he said lowly. "When was the last time you slept?" he asked, apparently noting the huge dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

She shrugged. "I don't know. When I was on Themyscira, I think." She looked down, knowing the reason she hadn't slept in weeks. "I don't want to dream about him," she whispered.

"Why?" he frowned.

"Because then what do I have here, J'onn?" she asked rhetorically. "A world without him – all over again. You know," she said. If anyone could grasp what losing everything felt like...

"Yes," he agreed.

She pressed her palms to the window, not sure who or why she was asking. "Why does it hurt so much?"

His answer was simple. "Because you loved him."

She shook her head. "Because I don't know if he loved me," she corrected.

J'onn turned her to face him. "He did. For weeks his thoughts revolved around you."

She shook her head. "But we never – We were never... We never were," she finished sadly. "I just... I wish I knew how to mourn him." Turning away from her friend, she set off toward the hanger again. Stopped at the doors to the turbo-lift, she said over her shoulder, "Tell Clark he can vote for me."

Once she was gone, J'onn was joined by Superman. "You heard I assume?" the Martian asked him.

Clark nodded. "Yes. I'm worried."

"So am I."


She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful.

A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there.

Three. That's enough.

One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back.

Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more.

Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart.

There is no scream.


A/N: Review please!