A/N: Thank you to my reviewers, and as always, AQ. Enjoy!

Chapter Ten - Reality

Bruce had just stepped out of the shower and was updating his logs when Alfred's footsteps came down the stairs. "Master Kent is here to see you, sir."

Bruce paused. "At five-forty-five in the morning?"

"Apparently, Master Bruce. He's in the kitchen, shall I bring him down?"

"Is there coffee in the kitchen?"

"Of course. I thought it best to offer some to our guest at such an ungodly hour," Alfred said dryly.

Bruce ran his hands roughly over his face. He doubted Clark had gotten much more sleep than he had – which wasn't a whole lot since Diana had gone missing, and hadn't increased at all since they'd found her. "I'm coming up."

"Very good, sir."

A few minutes later, when Bruce emerged into the kitchen, Clark was sitting with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, but not drinking it. He looked tired. He looked drawn. He looked small.

Bruce wasn't in the mood for sympathy, and only took the cup of espresso that Alfred passed him without offering a greeting. "Why are you here, Clark?"

"I was on my way to work early. I have an article due and –"

"You live in Metropolis," Bruce cut him off. "Last time I checked, Gotham was a bit out of the way for your work, and you can type ten thousand words in three and half seconds, so don't waste my time with shit, Clark, I'm not in the mood."

Clark sighed. "Fine. I thought you might be... struggling with your decision."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Bruce." Clark looked at him very directly. "Are you telling me that this is just a walk in the park?"

"I'm telling you to butt out."

Clark's coffee cup smashed in his hand. "Do you have to be so damned unhelpful all the time?" he ground out. "I don't pretend to know how you feel about Diana – if you see her the way I do, as the woman you love, but since it's you I'm going to assume that even you don't know. But I do know how you shut down whenever your parents are mentioned. They're alive, in Diana's head if nowhere else."

"They're not. My parents died thirty years ago in that alleyway, and whatever that thing has done with the idea of them –"

"If I might paraphrase," Clark interrupted softly. "Cut the shit."

"Fine," Bruce snapped. "Frankly, I'm not thinking about it. At all. Logic dictates we need Diana back. That's the end of it."

"Do you believe that? Is that really going to be the end of it?" Clark's voice was quiet, but the incredulity was obvious.

"Yes," Bruce ground out. "We get her out, burn the damn plant, go after Circe, and that's it. I'll be on the Watchtower at seventeen hundred hours. Make sure everyone else is too."

With that, Bruce left the room, having no real idea where in his palatial house he was going.

I woke that morning with a sense of dread, dread that I couldn't shake off all day, no matter what I did. I couldn't eat breakfast, and chugged a cup of coffee before going to work. The fact that we had our staff evaluations that day was not helpful; though I was focused in lectures, during my tutorials and seminars I wasn't in the slightest, and the sessions were led more by the students than by myself.

Something felt wrong, and I didn't know what, but my gut was screaming that something was going to happen.

When Bruce phoned at lunch to see if I wanted to go out to dinner that evening, I had never been so glad to hear from him. It was like oxygen had flowed back into the room; suddenly, I could breathe again.

"Hera, am I glad to hear your voice," I sighed, momentarily pulling my glasses off.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

"I'm having a bad day," I answered, "and I have no idea why. I just feel like something's wrong. Like something's going to happen."

"Well when was the last something like this happened?"

I thought. The last time had been just before Lex Luthor had transformed into a Luthor/Brainiac hybrid – I had known then that something was about to happen, something bad. It was that same feeling now, I told Bruce.

He did what I knew he would – reassured me that everything would be fine. "You've got no evidence to suggest that's the case," he reminded me. "Gotham's safe, and the League's functioning well isn't it?"

I nodded. "Yes, as far as I know."

"There you go then."

"Yeah." I chuckled in self-deprecation. "You know what, it's probably PMT or something."

"You said that, not me," he replied quickly, a grin in his voice.

"Duly noted," I smiled. "Anyway, I better go. More classes this afternoon."

"Alright. Try not to worry so much, Diana. I love you."

The remaining tension in me evaporated. "I love you, too. Bye."

"Bye."

I closed my cell phone and set it down, smiling. There, I thought, much better.

"I'm unsure if this course of action is wise," J'onn said worriedly. "It could be that she will have no comprehension that something is wrong in her fantasy world."

Thankfully, Clark was all for Bruce's newly-unveiled plan of getting Diana out as soon as possible. "She will, J'onn. Trust me – as soon as you're confronted with anything real, it's impossible to continue believing in the illusion... no matter how much you want to," he finished quietly.

"Then I agree with Bats," Flash said. "If she's gonna believe you no matter what, then the sooner we get her out, the better."

"Maybe not, Flash," Superman cautioned. "I mean, we should get her out, but you need to be aware... it leaves a hole. We need to help her through that."

Shayera and John both nodded with Wally. The Thanagarian stood up. "Well enough talking – if we need to help her through it, we need to get her out of it first, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she looked across the table. "Bruce, Infirmary, now."

A few minutes later, they were gathered around Diana's bed, Bruce and J'onn sitting by her side. "Ready?"

Bruce nodded tightly. Diana... forgive me. She would believe him, true, but it was going to be hell nonetheless, letting go of a dream so cherished.

The tension that Bruce had eased during the afternoon returned full-force while I was on patrol that evening. This time, though, I didn't need to wait for Batman to catch up to me. After I'd finished dealing with a couple of would-be muggers, I turned to see him standing behind me, the unconscious form of a third crumpled at his feet.

"We need to talk."

I frowned. "What about?"

"You."

My frown got deeper. "Not here," I warned. Cathedral roof." I was not discussing anything where we could so easily be overheard.

I took off, not caring about how he'd get there, but sure enough he arrived via grappling hook a few seconds after me.

"Me, in what respect?" I asked immediately. "As protector of Gotham? I know it is often referred to as my city, but if you can stop the Joker's next plot, then there's no need to seek my permission, as I told you."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" I asked.

He sighed impatiently. "Diana –"

In a flash, my hand was around his neck. "How do you know my name?" I demanded. "Who are you?"

He made no sound except for a few faint choking noises for a few moments, until I realised that he probably couldn't breathe. I relaxed my grip only slightly, once again searching his masked face for some feature I recognised. I knew him from somewhere, but I had no idea –

"I know your name," he whispered, "because everyone knows it."

"Who's everyone?!" I hissed, trying not to acknowledge the knot of fear building in my chest. My identity was a secret, there was no way I'd let anyone know unless it was completely vital, much less tell everyone. It would be suicide, a bloodbath. Tantamount to killing everyone I loved with my own two hands.

"Everyone... in the League," he said.

"That's not true," I replied instantly. "The Founders, maybe, but certainly not the rest of them, and you are not a member of the Justice League. Now answer my question." I removed my hand from his throat and stepped back, though I didn't relent with my suspicious stare.

He looked as though he were struggling to come up with the right way to say it. From the impatient sigh before he spoke, he didn't find one. "In the real Justice League, you don't have a secret identity. You're still Wonder Woman, but you've never hidden who you are. In the real world, you've never needed to."

I stared at him. The man was obviously unhinged. "... the real world? What in Tartarus does that mean?"

He gestured at our surroundings. I had no idea if he was referring to the roof, the buildings around us or the entire city. "This," he said, "is not real. In our world, there's a parasitic plant called the Black Mercy. It's telepathic, and has latched on to you."

"Black Mercy ..." I mouthed. Where had I heard that before? It tickled something, a half-formed image at the edges of my memory. When I pursued it, though, I found nothing. I'd never heard of a plant called that, and a telepathic plant at that? I wasn't buying it.

"You're insane," I told him flatly. "A plant? In case you haven't noticed, I deal with murderous flora every time Poison Ivy escapes from Arkham; I don't think I'd have any trouble with one more."

He kept pushing. "No? Think about it, Diana, you've heard the name before, you know you have."

I denied it flatly, despite what I'd felt just a moment ago. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No? Then how about why sometimes you feel like the whole world is wrong? You have everything you want, but there's still something missing."

I opened my mouth, shaking my head. "Missing...? I don't – You're not –"

He took a step closer. "Think about your wedding, Diana."

My mind flashed back without thinking about it. Even through a memory the feeling of joy was overwhelming. "It was the happiest day of my life," I said, having no idea why I was feeling so defensive.

"Yes? Where did you get married?"

"The cathedral."

"Which one? There are six in Gotham alone," he pointed out swiftly.

"I don't see –"

"What was your dress like? Was it white or ivory? Did it have sleeves? Did you wear a veil?"

"What does that have to do –"

"What colour were the flowers in your bouquet?"

"Red," I blurted.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

My mouth turned down, because suddenly... I wasn't. Hera, help me. Why couldn't I look at Batman and tell him I knew exactly what my life was, exactly what it had always been? Why couldn't I tell him I had everything I wanted, that there was nothing wrong, that I could remember every detail of my wedding day?

I looked at Batman as though he had betrayed me somehow. "None of this is real," he said softly.

I swallowed hard. "Let's just say… for two, ridiculous seconds, that I believe you, that none of this is real –" I gulped again, "then what's different in 'the real world'? Am I still an Amazon?"

"Yes. And you're part of the Justice League, just as I am."

"Then what? There's something you're not telling me! If your world is exactly the same as this one –"

"It's not."

"Then what?" Suddenly my eyes widened. "Oh Hera. You mean Bruce," I whispered. "What – How – Does he exist?" I asked, tears welling up.

"He exists," he answered quickly.

"Then what? We're everything to each other, if –" My head went down. "If I've created this world that has everything I want …" I looked up again, clenching my jaw. "We're not together, are we?"

"No."

"Then he doesn't exist," I said immediately. "My Bruce…"

"Not the way you dream him," he answered, voice softening. He hesitated, then said the words in a rush, as if getting something painful over quickly. "His parents are dead."

My mouth dropped. "What? Thomas and Martha –?" No…

"Were murdered. He was eight years old; he saw it happen."

"But…why?"

"Wrong place and wrong time," he growled. "It's Gotham; you know the drill."

I closed my eyes, chanting softly; the ancient Greek rites for the dead. "And Bruce?" I whispered. "Not the DA, I take it?"

"No. Though…"

"Though, what?"

Suddenly I was so afraid, but my eyes hadn't stopped moving. Specifically over his cowled face, and his jaw line. That achingly-familiar jaw line. Realisation dawned slowly, and I shook my head. "No," I whispered. He said nothing to confirm or deny it, and I strode over to him, then yanked the cowl off with such force that it came away in my hand.

My husband's face looked back at me. His features were set, as if carved in stone.

"No. No, you can't be him." I knew the tears were coming, and I didn't bother to try to stop them. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

My fist shot out in a visceral reaction; faster than my eye could track him, he'd caught my fist. I hadn't put all my strength into it, but it was still enough to make him take a step back. "You can't be him," I repeated stupidly.

His face softened. "Princess –"

"Don't – Don't call me that. You – You can't – Only Bruce calls me that, and you're not –" I cut off when I couldn't breathe anymore. He didn't move or say anything, and I walked away to the other side of the roof until I'd regained some control over my emotions. "How long?" I asked eventually, hearing how ragged my voice was. "How long have I been…?"

"A little over a month."

I spun back to him, outrage welling up. "A month? We've been married more than a year, how can –"

"You haven't. The Black Mercy has fabricated your memories."

He spoke like a robot. Totally emotionless, all business. Not anything like Bruce. I threw the cowl back at him. "So… everything? The first time we met, the first time we danced, our first kiss, our wedding? Don't tell me they were all lies," I snarled.

Nothing could make me believe that. I closed my eyes. When he told me he loved me: a perfectly ordinary day – over breakfast, just slipping out like they were the most effortless words in the world. The day he proposed – the picnic we took in the grounds of the manor, the rain that ruined it, except it didn't, and the raindrops falling on the diamond ring just made it more breathtaking. Then just a few days ago…the look in his eyes when he said he wanted to have children with me. All of them…they'd never happened? My heart cried the answer.

"No," I said quietly, answering my own question. I opened my eyes, looked very directly at the man who wasn't Bruce. "I refuse to believe that they were all lies." I stepped closer. "I'm going home. I don't want to see you in my city again."

He didn't move or speak, and for the first time in my life, I took the coward's way out. I ran to the edge of the building and threw myself off it. Screw Gotham; tonight, I only wanted to see one person. It took me less than two minutes to get home, and I was sobbing again by the time I pushed open the door.

I looked around wildly, and there he was, sitting at the table with a laptop and briefs open in front of him. I felt my heart swell at the sight. He looked up at my entrance. "Princess? You've only been gone –" He cut off as he saw the tears on my cheeks. He was out of his seat and darting toward me in seconds. "Diana, what's wrong?"

I don't ever remember feeling so grateful in my life. This was Bruce, my Bruce; my husband, my lover, my confidant, my everything. I met him halfway, throwing myself into his arms. He was warm and solid and there, just as he always had been. "Diana?" he murmured after I'd spent at least ten minutes sobbing into his chest.

I looked up, finally, my grip on his biceps not weakening. Somehow he'd managed to move without me noticing, and we were on the couch. "Sorry," I whispered. "I… I just…" I took his face between my hands, scanning his gaze. He was real. There was no way he could not be real. "How can you not…?" Surging forward, I wrapped my arms around his neck. "You're real, of course you're real!"

He patted my back. "Real… and… choking…"

I let go with a very watery laugh. "Sorry. Bruce… tell me you love me," I said suddenly. "I – I need to hear it."

He blinked. "I love you, of course I do. Diana…" He smiled gently. "Do you even need to ask, Princess?"

There could be no mistaking the sincerity in his voice, and I almost melted in relief. "I love you, too."

Slowly, the tears dried up and the trembling ceased while he stroked my hair softly. "What brought this on?" he asked.

I didn't know where to begin. And how could I tell him anyway? 'None of this is real'? 'Someone who looks exactly like you told me that your parents are dead'? I shook my head. No, there was no way in Tartarus I could tell him that. Imagining Thomas and Martha dead myself was hard enough, but for Bruce it would be devastating just considering it.

I wiped the vestiges of my tears away. "It's nothing, I just... I had a really bad patrol."

He looked at me very directly. "Diana."

I sighed. "Don't freak out, but... you know I told you about Batman? Well... I saw him tonight. And we ended up –"

Suddenly he got up and paced to the window. From the reflection in the window, his expression was thunderous. "Bruce?" I frowned.

"I see," he said quietly. "Well... at least you told me up front." His voice sounded so bitter. I didn't understand. "If we'd had months of you sneaking out-"

Suddenly it clicked in my head what he meant, and my instinctive reaction was to laugh. "Oh Bruce." I sobered, then got up and took his face between my hands. "I'd never do that to you."

He frowned. "Then what –?"

"I was going to say we ended up fighting if you'd give me a chance to finish the sentence," I said gently. "I love you. Never, ever doubt that."

"Well when you started talking about not freaking out and Batman... I guess I got a little paranoid," he admitted. I hadn't thought Bruce could ever look sheepish, but he did.

I laughed softly. "Maybe not the best choice of words."

"No," he agreed. Then he frowned again. "Hang on, if you're not cheating on me, then why would I freak out?"

It was my turn to frown now. "Because... he's you," I finished lamely.

He blinked. "What do you mean 'he's me'?"

"I mean... he literally is you, Bruce. Not – not you, but I – I know you don't have a twin brother, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Well what did he say that upset you so much?" he asked, lifting my face up.

"That... that you weren't real. That none of this is real." The sobs were building up again, and I forced them down. "He said... he said that I've built this world because it answers my heart's desire, but that it's not real."

"Your heart's desire?" he asked.

"You," I said simply.

That made him smile, and he kissed my lips softly. "Diana, there is no possible world where you wouldn't have me. I love you. I'd love you anywhere."

His words clicked into place. Of course, how had I not seen it before?! The League had come across parallel worlds before, the experience with the Justice Lords had even proven that some were out to destroy us. Batman might be Bruce – but not in this world, and whatever world he came from, it was obviously a ruse to get me away from my world.

"How could I have missed that?" I muttered. A wide grin split my face as I looked back up at my husband. "Bruce, you're a genius."

He raised an eyebrow. "I am?"

I nodded. "Totally." Relief filled me, suffusing into my very bones. It felt as though the burden of Atlas had been lifted from my shoulders. I collapsed against Bruce with a sigh. "Hera, I love you."

He laughed, ran his fingers through my hair. "I love you too. I have no idea how I helped, though."

I took his hand and tugged him back to the couch. "Even if Batman is you, then he must be you from another world."

"Like the Justice Lords?" he asked.

I'd told Bruce about every mission I'd ever been on, and I nodded. "Yes, and just like the Justice Lords, Batman must have... I don't know, been trying to trick me into their world."

His arms tightened around me slightly. "And you didn't think of that?"

I shook my head. "I just... panicked, I guess. At the idea of losing you."

He kissed me again. "Never."

I closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss. Yes, it explained everything.

This is a good life, I thought as both my hands and Bruce's began to wander.

I refuse to let go of it.

"Well?" Clark barked as soon as Bruce woke up.

"I told her," he said, still in shock. "She refused to believe it."

"She refused to believe it?" Shayera asked, eyebrows raised.

Bruce nodded. "Yes. She's not waking up from this alone."

The four of them looked at Diana's prone form. As they watched, the pained expression on her face smoothed out, back to the glassy smile of before. As if to mock them, the Black Mercy waved its tentacles almost triumphantly.

Bruce clenched his fists and silently swore again that he was going to take Circe apart for causing all of this. It was easier to deal with it than focus on Diana's refusal to come out.

"Then we have no choice," J'onn said heavily. "We must remove the Black Mercy by force."

Clark nodded. "Okay... how?"

J'onn answer was simple. "Pull."

Clark blinked. "Just... pull?"

J'onn nodded. "The time for more sophisticated measures has passed, my friend. The only thing left is brute force."

"It worked before," Bruce added. "Just don't get caught in it yourself."

Superman nodded, then grasped the edges of the plant. As if in anticipation of what was happening, the Mercy dug its tentacles in harder. So hard Bruce saw thing trills of blood begin to weep down Diana's skin. "Hurry."

Clark took a deep breath, and pulled.

Faced with Kryptonian strength, the Black Mercy had no chance of hanging onto Diana, and was forced to let go, its tentacles ripping chucks of flesh from her body. The princess's agony-filled scream filled the room, but for now, at least, she couldn't be the priority.

They were prepared for what the plant would do; when it targeted Clark, J'onn wrestled it from him – half a second before it hit, he went non-corporeal, and it sailed through his translucent form to land on the floor. Bruce slammed the reinforced-steel box down on top of it, and Clark soldered the box shut, both of them breathing hard.

Then Wally's voice interrupted. "Oh no."

They both spun around, expecting to see Diana's eyes open, breathing hard, sobbing even – but she wasn't doing any of those things. She was still unconscious.

"What the hell's wrong with her?" Bruce demanded.

J'onn's answer was not reassuring as he rushed to check the monitoring equipment. "I have no idea."

A/N: Review please!