A/N: I ask your forgiveness in advance for the cheesiness about to ensue. I couldn't help myself. The song just….fits. However, I ask that in your mind you deviate from the original for this chapter as there are many covers that fit the mood much better. If you are so inclined, clips of all are easily accessed on itunes. Some are rather bad, so in case you're interested, versions from LiTaL, Jann Arden, & Cherri & the Violators served as inspiration. Call it research or call it batty – either works for me. J
Anyway, try to make it through the cheesy as this chapter also throws in some BMWW moments and more evidence that I have watched far too many reruns of Criminal Minds. (Didja catch it last night?). Please bear with it - there's more action and 'action' in future chapters.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, songs, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 8: Song
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet. - Plato
Bruce was seated between Dick and Tim in a private box for the Stone Foundation Benefit Concert. The three were enjoying the show, or so it appeared.
From their vantage point, the three scanned the crowd watching for anything or anyone suspicious. The performance in Gotham could very well draw out their prey. If he was indeed obsessed with Diana, the opportunity to watch her in person while being able to melt into the crowd undetected was too good of an opportunity to pass up. At least that's what Batman hoped.
Given the chance their serial killer would make an appearance, the Justice League was well represented at the event. Although he wasn't likely to admit it to himself or anyone else, particularly to her, but for Bruce this security detail was also designed to help assure Diana's safety.
Bruce Wayne, having purchased a vast number of tickets for local youth organizations, was in attendance. As expected, he was accompanied by his two adult sons. However, an active threat against a member of the League made Batman's absence in Gotham particularly conspicuous. With some help from J'onn, they both were present. True to character, "Batman" hovered in the shadows, keeping a protective watch over Diana.
The media was also out in full force for the event. This included two reporters from the Daily Planet – Clark Kent and Lois Lane, who were seated in the press box. Superman was also close by.
Green Lantern and Green Arrow kept watch outside of the theatre while Shayera was up in the Watchtower running facial recognition software loaded with every one of Gotham's most wanted and Justice League enemy.
Huntress, Question, Black Canary, and Zatanna, the Leaguers most familiar with Gotham, were patrolling the city in case the killer decided instead that it would be a good time to deposit a fifth victim.
Everything was in place. Now they just waited for something to happen.
So far, the evening had been uneventful.
Diana was scheduled to perform last with Dylan Stone. Bruce felt his anticipation and apprehension growing by the moment.
Finally, it was time. The lights dimmed. Soft, bass-heavy music began to play. The lights on stage slowly came up.
My God.
She was seated on a tall stool in front of the band. Dylan Stone was just to her right.
As expected, Wonder Woman was not appearing in her familiar uniform and armor this evening. Instead she was dressed in a Grecian-inspired long black tank dress. There was a slit up the right leg to mid thigh. A gold cord was wrapped around her waist and torso. On her feet were gold sandals, with straps wrapping up her leg. The only visible pieces of her usual costume were the bracers on her wrists. Her raven tendrils cascaded loosely over her shoulders.
The vision of her was enchanting. The sound of her was captivating. Bruce was frozen, mesmerized. Truth be told, so was much of the crowd.
We are young
Heartache to heartache
We stand
No promises
No demands
Love is a battlefield
This version was entirely different from the original in the tone and the seriousness it conveyed. It was evocative. If it were possible, it was even fitting given the current circumstances.
Bruce's heart was pounding. His initial apprehension gave way to another feeling that swept through him at the sound of her soft breathless words. This feeling was a familiar one - overwhelming need. He needed her.
We are strong
No one can tell us we're wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
Both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield
In the spotlight and with darkness filling in behind her, she faced the crowd searching out one set of ice -blue eyes. Bruce's breath caught as their eyes locked. It would have been impossible for the average human, but her meta-enhanced senses allowed her eyes to find his easily in the darkness. It quickly became clear in the grip of her intense gaze, that she was sending him a message.
You're begging me to go
You're making me to stay
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
Do I stand in your way?
Or am I the best thing you've had?
Believe me, believe me
I can't tell you why
But I'm trapped by your love
And chained to your side
Her eyes pulled away from his as she shared her attention with the audience and her companions. She stood and walked to the front of the stage. As she sang, she leaned over and shook hands with the adolescents and young adults that the Wayne Foundation had packed into the area just in front of her. Bruce did this because it would make Diana happy. For Batman, of course, it was part of a plan to make it almost impossible for anyone over the age of 21 to get close to Diana onstage, without looking out of place.
Diana returned to center stage and once again, she was captured within the spotlight as it darkened behind her, the musicians fading into the blackness. As if it was only her up there. Once again, two pairs of blue eyes found each other.
When I'm losing control
Will you turn me away?
Or touch me deep inside?
And if all this gets old
Will it still feel the same?
There's no way this will die
But if we get much closer I could lose control
And if your heart surrenders
You'll need me to hold
As she released her hold on him, again her attention was directed elsewhere as Bruce tracked every movement she made onstage.
We are young
Heartache to heartache
We stand
No promises
No demands
Love is a battlefield
We are strong
No one can tell us we're wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
Both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield
The music continued as Diana stopped singing. Only Dylan Stone put down his guitar and walked to Diana, taking her hand and pulling her close. They began to dance slowly. Having been a central focus of media attention nation- and world-wide in the last week, the crowd responded with enthusiastic approval. Bruce did not.
The clear physical familiarity and ease Stone clearly felt with the princess – his princess – gave way to another emotion. This was a less familiar feeling. This feeling was pure jealously. This is what it would feel like – what it felt like – to see her with someone else. It wasn't the rumbling of anger and irritation that were triggered by her periodic associations with Superman in the media. This feeling included desperation. It included fear. It crystallized into one thought. Mine.
The two pulled away from each other. Stone paused before releasing her to brush his lips across the back of her hand before retrieving his guitar. Bruce stiffened and glared. As it turned out, Bruce Wayne's angry glare was every bit as terrifying as Batman's.
On either side of him, Dick and Tim exchanged a knowing look as they observed the clenched fists and struggle to regain Bruce Wayne's placid expression. Dick leaned over and whispered, "Bruce. Go." Bruce remained silent as the sound of her voice surrounded them again.
After a moment, he muttered "stay sharp". He didn't know for sure what he wanted to do or what he wanted to say, but he began making his way through the crowd anyway.
As the performance concluded, Bruce headed backstage. His conspicuous VIP pass allowed him to be relatively free of individuals wanting access to tabloid-favorite Bruce Wayne. Although this evening, they had many others available to occupy their attention.
He turned the corner into the long hallway that housed many of the theater's dressing rooms. Bruce stopped short as he came upon Renee Montoya and Dr. Gesine Mastles at the far end of the hallway, attempting to engage J'onn/Batman in conversation just outside of Diana's dressing room. After another moment they began to walk away from J'onn and in his direction.
Bruce contacted J'onn telepathically. "What did they want?"
"They asked if I had anything new on the investigation."
"What did they want?"
"That is what Ms. Montoya wanted. As for the other – "
"Gesine Mastles."
"She did act as though we'd met before, but I couldn't be certain."
That gave Bruce a moment's pause. "You couldn't?"
"No. I found it as difficult to read her thoughts as I do yours or Shayera's."
At this point, Bruce passed them in the hallway as he made his way toward Diana's room. Without stopping, Renee Montoya nodded to him, "Good evening, Mr. Wayne."
"Ms. Montoya," he returned.
Dr. Mastles, in turn, met his gaze and flashed him a wide smile.
With the roar of applause unyielding, Diana escaped from the stage and made her way to her dressing room. A small fraction of the stress she'd been experiencing over the last couple of weeks subsided as she fulfilled her duty to the foundation. She uttered a quick prayer of thanks to Apollo. It was a small amount of relief though, as the crisis in Gotham continued.
Despite the evening's brief reprieve, the general mood of the city was palpable – a populous gripped with fear. A serial killer was on the loose. Even Gotham, a city often overrun by the madness of criminals, was not numb to it. They were waiting, hoping, that the Batman would again save the day. She knew him well and although they had not spoken since right after she had gone to California, Diana knew Bruce was frustrated – most likely devoting every spare moment to tracking this killer.
Bruce. It wasn't a long time she knew, but it had been nearly two weeks away from the League and away from Bruce. The knowledge that he'd be there did little to prepare her for how she felt seeing his indescribably handsome face watching her so intently. Her song choice had, of course, been deliberate.
She smiled softly to herself as she recalled the dozens of red roses in her dressing room, all delivered without cards. Typical. The vast number of them more than assured that she would know who had sent them.
Still pondering Bruce's state of mind, Diana entered her dressing room, stopping short as she realized that the man in her thoughts was there waiting for her. He looked uncharacteristically vulnerable.
He didn't look up as she entered. "Bruce?"
Silence.
"BRUCE." More forcefully.
"Do you love him?"
Diana leaned against the door and whispered softly. "Look at me."
Reluctantly he raised his head and looked into her eyes.
"Bruce, in my long life, I've only been in love but once - with you. I love you despite your reasons that I shouldn't, despite your attempts to push me away, and despite the cold way that you exclude me from your life. My attempts to make it fade have met with no success so far. I can't deny it. I don't want to."
Bruce walked toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck. A choked, barely audible whisper came out. "Why?"
"Why?"
"Why. How. How can you with the way I've behaved? How I am? What I am?"
Diana pulled back and laid her right hand on his left cheek and forced him to look into her eyes. "What you are? Bruce, there are so many things about you to love. Your unrelenting drive to accomplish your goals. The selfless way you sacrifice yourself to protect others. Your strength, your leadership, and the way you save us all, time and again with that brilliant mind and indomitable willpower. There are many reasons that I love you."
He had closed his eyes as she spoke, almost as if he couldn't bear to hear her words. She sighed. They had a lot to work through. But not right now.
She smiled softly as she brushed his lips with hers. Bruce's eyes flew open. His breath was ragged as they searched each other's eyes. In them, she could see the conflict that still raged within. In those few seconds, the conflict ended as he brought his hands up to thread them through her raven curls. He pulled her into a searing kiss as her lips parted instinctively to allow his tongue access to caress her own.
Their kisses deepened as Bruce pushed her back against the door. One hand untangled from her tresses and slid its way up her thigh, under the slit in her dress and pulled her hips closer to his. The passion they had denied for so long quickly grew until a knock came at the door from behind Diana.
Bruce and Diana broke from their kiss, to look at each other once again. Both breathless, they gazed at each other hungrily.
From outside, "Diana? Do you still hear that applause Diana – you were amazing!"
Dylan Stone.
In a split second, Diana watched the look in Bruce's eyes change from barely contained desire to animosity and anger. She gently pushed away from the door and led him by the hand across the room.
"Diana? Are you okay?" from outside.
Never losing eye contact with Bruce, she called out over her shoulder toward the door. "One moment Dylan."
Diana wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently and affectionately. Before she left him to open the door, she whispered in his ear. "I love you Bruce Wayne."
It was her desire that her words and actions would facilitate the reemergence of Bruce Wayne's vacuous expression. It didn't. As she caught sight of her own flushed cheeks and tousled hair in the mirror, she knew that she wouldn't be able to conceal anything – even if Bruce were to bother to try and he didn't seem inclined to do so.
Diana opened the door and allowed Dylan Stone entry. He walked into the room as Diana pushed the door closed behind her.
It took just seconds for him to take in the meaning of Diana's disheveled appearance and the glare Bruce Wayne had fixed on him.
"Really Diana?" He frowned. "Bruce Wayne?"
Her eyes flashed with anger, but she held her tongue and let him continue.
"When you told me that anything more than friendship with me would be impossible while you were in love with someone else, I figured my competition was a superhero like you. Superman, maybe. Or even the creepy one lurking outside in the shadows who won't take his eyes off of you. But Bruce Wayne? My competition is the biggest womanizer in the Western Hemisphere? To say I'm surprised is an understatement. I'm not sure anyone truly is, but certainly he is nowhere near good enough for you."
Diana held her breath as Bruce walked forcefully across the room to stand between them. He turned his back on Dylan to face her. Taking her hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles and leaned forward to gently kiss her cheek.
"I hope to see you at the reception later?" She nodded in return.
Bruce then turned around to face Dylan Stone, standing his full 6 ft, 2 inches. They were eye to eye.
"Do you think I don't know that I'm not good enough for her? I just hope that she'll have me anyway."
A few minutes after Bruce's departure and she had explained that she would not be engaging in any further discussion with him about Bruce Wayne, Diana and Dylan were in the back of a limousine on their way to a reception on the roof of Wayne Towers. The post-concert function was sponsored by the Wayne Foundation in an effort to squeeze a little more charity out of Gotham's rich and famous.
In front of the main entrance, Bruce stood with Wayne Enterprises private security team and a small contingent of Gotham PD that included Commissioner Gordon. Scanning the buildings around Wayne Tower, Bruce picked up the silhouettes of several of his teammates in the shadows.
The limousine carrying Wonder Woman drove up the well-lit street and stopped at the curb.
A dark figure sat in a nearby window, high above the street below. The figure began to chant.
The driver opened the door to the limousine and Diana emerged, a vision of poise and grace. Dylan Stone was close behind.
Bruce walked toward the car to claim the princess and escort her upstairs to the reception.
Transporto viscus mortuus
mulier iratus ut mulier admiratio
Between Bruce and Diana, a black haze formed and thickened.
Transporto viscus mortuus
mulier iratus ut mulier admiratio
The thick black fog dissipated to reveal a figure lying prone on the sidewalk. Tall, black hair, and the familiar red, blue, white and gold.
Despite the fact that the individual had apparently been badly beaten and her face was obscured, it took only seconds for Bruce and Diana to recognize that the victim was someone they both knew.
