A/N: Well, seems like this story is a bit more hated than I realized. Oh, well. For those who gave positive feedback, thank you.
This is a rewrite of the last chapter. I read over it and I didn't like how it was paced. It was a bit fast, and I think I'm gonna let the drama between Clark and Diana draw out a bit more than the beginning of just one chapter. Perhaps one, two, maybe six more. Who knows.
Enjoy the revision of the last chapter.
Clark smiled at Diana as he stood at the stove in the kitchen of the decently sized mess hall of the Tower, cooking breakfast.
She didn't smile back.
The smile faltered as she stared at him, daring him to look away. A cup of coffee in her hand, she made her way to a table, sitting down, never breaking eye contact.
Clark cleared his throat. "Uh, would you like something to eat, Di?"
Nothing.
He felt uneasy. "How about French toast and eggs? I made enough-"
A red blur made its way into the room, stopping right next to Diana. "French toast and eggs sounds great!" Barry said, grinning. Only then Diana looked away, focusing her attention on the speedster.
Sighing, Clark complied, his own smile fading fully. Six weeks. It had been six weeks since they last spoke to each other, and even then, their last conversation was not very...pleasant. He tried everything in his power to make it up to her, apologizing profusely, cooking, everything he could think of, but nothing worked.
"So, how was your mission down in Cuba last week?" he heard Barry ask Diana.
Clark caught the beam on her face, as well as the happiness in her voice as she spoke, "Pleasantly well. The children there were amazed that I am capable of flying, and I spent roughly two hours taking them around by flight. It was quite amusing, actually."
Yep, she was beaming. And talking to Barry, not Clark. With a slight glower, he continued cooking, frying the eggs as the French toast was being prepared. "The townspeople were even more amazed than the children of my abilities. I enjoyed myself quite a bit."
Diana's mission was to help with relief from a drought. In less than two hours she had gotten clean water and food to almost every city and village that needed it, and had plenty of free time to spare. "Wait, you speak Spanish?" Barry asked, astounded.
Diana grinned, mischief in her eyes. "Sí, estoy muy fluido en español."
From the bit of Spanish Barry understood, he was at least aware she said she knew it. "That's amazing! What else do you speak?"
"Well, of course my native tongue is Greek, but I am also fluent in almost every language you can name off of the top of your head, I'm sure."
Clark was watching, and he was searching for any sign of boasting, but there was none. She was being sincere, and at the same time, innocent, as if it was second nature to know any given language."
Barry started shooting names right and left. "Russian?"
"Yes."
"German?"
"Yes."
"Japanese?"
"Yes."
"French?"
"Yes."
"Dutch?"
"Yes."
"Arabic?"
"Yes."
The list continued for several more names of languages before Barry couldn't think of any others, and Diana sat there, waiting patiently. "Many languages I learned from studying books amongst the libraries of my people when I was only a child," she explained. "The rest, I learned through books here."
"And how long does it usually take you to learn a language?"
She thought for a moment. "Usually three to four hours." His jaw dropped, and she laughed. "My hardest language was Cantonese, but the easiest was Armenian, as it's slightly similar, but not by much, not how Italian, Spanish, and French are all linked together, but separated by region."
"...How the hell are you so smart?" Barry asked, dumbfounded.
Diana laughed again, and this time Clark could tell she was boasting. "I'm Wonder Woman."
By then, Clark was done cooking and merely sat back, watching the show. Oh, how he'd love for Barry to move the hell away from Diana at this point. He wanted her alone so he could at least try to talk to her, for the umpteenth time.
Sigh.
He started to clean up the mess, but the spatula he was holding in his hand snapped in two when he heard Diana laugh again. Grunting in irritation, he set the two halves aside and went to work on the pan, which ended up bending when he noticed her hugging Barry out of the corner of his eye.
The hell's getting into me, he thought, bending it back. He couldn't stand the sight of Barry…
No, oh no. I am NOT jealous of Barry with Diana, not even close.
He ended up snapping six scrubbing handles and almost breaking four pans by the time he gave up and, after quickly heating up the food with his laser vision, walked out from the kitchen, setting two plates in front of Diana and Barry. "Sorry it took so long, had a bit of trouble in there," he said sheepishly.
Barry chuckled, while Diana merely stared ahead, not even sparing him a glance this time. Clark noticed that her coffee mug was empty and reached for it, saying, "I'll refill that for you."
The grip that suddenly enveloped his wrist was frightening, especially since he didn't expect it. "I can get my own coffee, thank you very much, big man," she said in a tone that, to Clark, said clearly of her hatred for him, but for Barry, it spelled playful banter. Even the grip couldn't be noticed as anything going on between them; both were incredibly strong, so both usually used great portions of strength on each other.
"Look out, Blue, she's feisty," Barry chuckled.
He forced a joking smile. "I can tell. Can I have my wrist back, Di?"
After a few seconds she let go, and he was surprised to actually find her fingerprints in his skin. Most objects would just break when making fast contact with him, yet this woman could bruise him?
How terrifying.
Later on, deep in the night, Clark found himself wide awake, and was wondering the halls of the Tower. He recapped everything that had happened during the day, starting off with Diana's heroic rescue of two children in a burning building. While he had to hold the building up, Diana rushed inside and saved the two kids, one looking to be a pre-teen, the other a small toddler. Once doing so, she flew them to safety, then managed to catch the guy who had set the building on fire in the first place, the children's father.
He had congratulated her on a job well done, but all that was received was a grunt of acknowledgement and a hand slapped away as she walked the father to the police, using her lasso to keep him close.
Afterwards, they had flown to Florida, to help with relief from a hurricane. Diana was friendly with nearly everybody, while Clark seemed, as Hal later described it, "too big and muscly for them to be comfortable with", whereas Diana was, although taller, much more lean, and on top of that, friendly, while he was the strong, silent type.
She had spent majority of her time with the children, answering their barrage of questions and settling anything they wondered, such as how she managed to fly, and how it felt flying. This of course led to many trips into the air, with giggling, excited children in her arms.
Clark blamed the tight feeling in his chest on exhaustion from clearing debris.
But, now he he was, walking around the halls. Everyone, including Bruce, had stayed in rooms, too tired to go out again. Each time he passed Diana's room, he was heavily tempted to go inside, and do something. He hated not being able to be around her without feeling her hatred of him radiate off of her. It was pure hell.
As he made his way through the third time, he caught the sound of heavy breathing, and mumbling. And it came from Diana's room.
As he neared her room, he heard her mumble clearly, "Aleka...not clay…"
Clay? By now he was in front of the door, hesitant to go inside. Eventually, he punched in the number to her room-he remembered her telling Barry how she came up with it, her birthday, and her mother's birthday-and slowly entered the room, noticing the body lying perfectly still on the bed, facing him. Her face was slightly scrunched in discomfort, mouth turned into a frown.
Clark couldn't help but notice how...serene she looked in slumber, almost like a dream. As he watched, he noticed her shift, muttering, "Hush...traitors…"
What was she dreaming of? He backed up a little...and into a vase that almost fell. Luckily, he caught it, putting it back.
"And just what do you think you're doing in my room, big man?"
He froze, turning to the source of the voice. Blue eyes met blue eyes, shock met annoyance and anger. "I was just checking on you," he claimed, holding his hands up sheepishly. "When I was walking by, you were muttering things in your sleep."
Diana, still glaring, sat up. She was wearing nothing but a silk gown, which impressed him. He never saw her in anything like such. "My condition and state is none of your concern, Superman. Now, you can kindly get out of my room." She motioned to the door with her eyes, signaling she already had enough of him.
He didn't move. "Diana...who's Aleka?"
Her eyes swiveled back to him, and for a moment there was a gleam of something he couldn't recognize, but it definitely wasn't related to the look of annoyance she had against him earlier. "A childhood bully, Superman. Don't worry anything about it."
"And what about clay?"
She sighed. "Childhood nickname given to me by the children of Themyscira." His look was one of curiosity. "I wasn't born normally, Superman. I was originally sculpted from clay, and the Greek gods gave me life."
"Oh. So Clay is…"
"Not an endearing term." She looked troubled.
"Di…" Clark carefully stepped towards her, checking if it was safe. "Was it an insult?"
Diana nodded. "I longed to be considered, well, a person. Not clay."
The usual hardness that was in her eyes was replaced with a vulnerability Clark had never seen before. Did this bother her that much?
"Now that you know," the hardness was slowly returning, "get out. You still crossed a barrier I refuse to forgive."
He looked defeated. "Di, I'm sorry. I am. I did cross a line, and I regret it-"
"And why do you regret it?" Diana was standing now, anger taking hold of her. "Why do you regret doing what you did? Was it because you truly feel sorry for doing it, or because you were pushed against a wall when you were caught?"
"I…" He was at a loss for words.
"Exactly my point." She motioned to the door once again. "Now leave. My tolerance for the likes of you has diminished to absolutely nothing."
"Wait." He licked his lips. "I regret putting the look of pure anger and intrusion on your face, Di. I should've never done that, but I only realized how horrible it was when you had your reaction. I'm sorry, I really am."
She didn't move for a few seconds, rage still evident in her eyes. "You're not forgiven."
"Diana…"
"Now you listen to me, Kal." That was the first time in a long time she had used his birth name. "You violated my trust, my honor. You went behind my back and had the audacity to casually peak at personal notes of mine, information that was gathered behind my back because of wound during a battle. This proved exactly how much of a snake you are, how low you're willing to go just to get what you want. As an Amazon, I stay away from the likes of you, as you poison the minds of the innocent, portraying yourself as a man looking for justice and peace, yet you do the exact opposite within your own team. You're no Superman, you're anything but."
The air was thick with tension, and he could see clearly, just how badly he messed up. Looking into her eyes one last time, he saw another look, one much stronger than the other: pain.
Without a word, defeated, unforgiven, he left the room.
A/N: How did you guys think of that? Sorry it took me so long to write this, I didn't know exactly how I'd edit the last chapter. I excluded the date scene, merely because that was entirely too rushed, and I wanted the drama to be drawn out longer, simply because it seemed like a better approach. Plus, when Diana is angry, she's angry for a good reason. This is more than a good reason. This is betrayal.
I'll write the next chapter, date scene included, as soon as I can. Slowly but surely coming back to the writing field, finally.
Comments and criticism are welcomed.
