Author's Note:

Ok everybody, I am SOOOOOOOO SORRY that you guys had to deal with the last chapter. I didn't really realized that BMWW fans would take it that bad... If I knew any better, I wouldn't even have given the idea a second thought. But don't worry, everything will be explained!

Oh, and, I prefer to have Hal Jordan vs John Stewart in my Justice League fanfics because I just like him better. So sorry for the confusement... So yes, it is Hal Jordan.

So I've been thinking about how this story will continue and I've got a pretty good idea. This chapter will be the start of a lot of problems to come! I hope you guys will keeping reading! (it gets exciting! lol)

Once again, I love you guys and if I knew you wouldn't like it I wouldn't have put it!

DISCLAIMER: I HATE WRITING THESE SO YOU GET THE POINT.

Wide Awake

As I silently fly down the north wing's hall, the familiar pain in my abdomen makes me fall from the air. I grab my stomach and my body falls to the hard floor as I feel my skin scrape against the metal.

Cold sweat builds on my face, the pain is spreading its stabbing knives all around my withering self. My breathing is short and rigid. I feel myself going in and out of consciousness, my first instinct is to call for someone.

"Batman… Batman…"

In my delirium, I didn't realize I was calling out for him until the words slipped out of my dry lips.

My body curls into a ball and all I feel is the tremendous pain.

"Batman!" My effort to yell comes out to be barely a whisper.

I see my eyes roll up and the world goes black once again.

That uninviting feel of cold, dark, and blackness takes over.

Am I dead?

I must be, but I'm not in hell for the freezing temperature is not the place for Hades.

I reach out to look at my hand, I can't see anything, just the pitch black.

Living the rest of my afterlife in the dark won't be too bad, I guess. For I will have a lot of time to reflect on my short immortal life.

Maybe…

Just maybe…

This one time…

I can save her…

Save them all…

My time here is done, I've done all I can…

I haven't accomplished my goal but, my heirs will.

For eternity…

Until time itself doesn't exist…

I think I'm dead, I feel cold, lifeless…

I hope you hear me, my sun and stars…

Those words keep repeating itself over, and over, and over again. The first person that always comes to mind when these never ending sentences repeat is Batman.

Would he care for me this much to say something so different from his actions towards me actually are?

Batman, I pray to Hera and the gods to bring him back to the Watch Tower where the rest of the League are probably mourning. They have lost another leader, my, how this world's protectors are disappearing.

Yet my hopes are still high for I haven't come across any signs of Batman in this desolate, black, wasteland of frost and death. But then again I haven't seen anything, time doesn't even seem to go by, only my thoughts.

It seems that the only thing that comes to mind is the black caped crusader that stole my heart from the moment I met him.

He swung in from the rooftops of his city, Gotham, and took my forever beating heart and ran away with it. I know he's still has it for I think I can hear it beating.

Of course it's nonsense, there isn't a sound that has escaped my thoughts. I have tried to speak, but the efforts are in vain for all I hear is myself talk.

I don't know how much time has gone by, I don't even think I know what time feels like anymore.

In the midst of the drowning darkness, I feel something. Its warm, so alluring. I want to dive into the sensation for death brings nothing, not even comfort.

I urge myself to fall into the alien feeling, engulf myself into its tender embrace.

I feel comfort, the warm feeling developing into the touch of a hand.

Then suddenly, the black slits just a crack, but enough for me to know what it is, light.

I don't know how long it's been, but I know for certain that it has been a long, long time since I've seen or even felt anything in my afterlife.

I want that feeling of being alive again so I force my mind to move towards the unfamiliar feeling of life.

I jump up, the jolt of physical feelings sends a shiver down my spine.

I'm sitting up right, my lips are chapped, my skin is dry, my throat is sore, and I just feel terrible at the moment.

When all the negative bodily sensations subside, the feel of my emotions sweep over me. Where ever I was for the past – I'm really not sure – minutes, hours, days, how ever long it was, those feelings that didn't exist came swirling from all directions.

The pounding in my head and the screaming muscles was too much for an upright position, I slowly lower myself back into the horizontal position on the bed.

I let all the sights, the feels – both mental and physical – sweep over me because its all so welcoming.

As my mind sluggishly starts to comprehend everything that's surrounding me, I can't seem to understand what happened.

I try to move my hands, when I do, my left hand grasps something warm, large, and strong.

My gaze travels from the metal ceiling of the infirmary to the hand holding my own.

A man, a person I have never seen before, sits by my bedside and holds my hand for dear life.

Wearing just a t-shirt and khaki pants, I can't seem to recognize the well built man.

I look down at our hands that are tangled together. I grasp his strong palm and brush the tips of my fingers along the top of it.

I turn my attention off of his soft hand to his body. He's slouched in the metal folding chair and his head is down resting on the edge of the bed. One hand is tenderly holding mine while his other hand is resting on my abdomen.

His short jet black hair is messy and looks like it hasn't been washed for a while. His closed eyes tell me that he's sleeping. The side of his face was so beautiful, I want to lift it just to see his entire face. He was so handsome, I haven't ever looked at a man this way for I have been raised to despise the entire male race.

I squeeze his hand slightly, his turns his head and his closed eyes faces me. A small smile is plastered on his lips.

He equally squeezes my hand back and slowly caresses my stomach.

As his eyelids slowly flutter open, I look into his deep blue auroras. For a very brief moment, I see comfort, love, happiness, passion. Then it's replaced with an overwhelming sense of surprise.

His pupils adjust and takes in the sight of me. He whispers slowly, like saying the word would shatter it, "Diana…"

He rises to stand from his slouched position and pulls his hand away from my abdomen. He keeps the grasp on my palm however.

He reaches over and touches my cheek with his shaky hand. His fingers skim over the top of my soft skin.

I feel worried for him, the unknown man acts very differently around me. Seeing him like this sends an unfamiliar pain in my heart, one that I have never felt before. I want to see the comfort put back into his gaze.

I feel my own expression change to worry.

I open my mouth to ask who he was, I wanted to know why a man cared so deeply for me.

Even though I spread my lips, nothing that made sense came out. My sore throat didn't help either.

He moved his fingers to the tips of my lips, "No, don't say anything."

He bit his bottom lip, his eyes were glassy, he was holding back a cry.

"Diana, do you know who I am?" his voice was reeking of worry and nervousness.

I studied his face closely. The soft hue of grey that lined the bottom of his face told me that he hasn't shaved in a while either.

My answer to his question was barely audible, "No."

He set his jaw firmly in place, he breaks eye contact and looks down at our hands.

"I'm Batman, Diana. My name is Bruce Wayne and I live in Gotham City. I am a multi billionaire owning the entirety of Wayne Enterprises."

I held back a gasp. If I recalled correctly, number one rule of the Batman was to never have his teammates learn his identity for it may cause the corruption of the team. Why he thought that still remained a mystery to me.

"Batman…" my whisper was loud enough to overpower the beeping of the monitor near by.

At the moment, all my emotions washed over me like I have never experienced them before. The tears unleashed themselves and they started to roll down my face and onto his hand still cupping my cheek.

This entire time, I believed so deeply that he was gone forever, that he was never going to come back. The relief I felt at the moment was so overwhelming I couldn't hold it back. The rush of feelings, I doubted for a second that maybe he is a figure of my imagination, that I was so far gone that I'd started to see things.

But no, here he is, full of life, standing here, holding my face.

I look away from him, it's embarrassing to cry in front of a man, especially this man.

How long have I been 'gone'? Where was I this entire time? I must have been 'gone' long enough for Batman, Bruce, to return.

Bruce sat back down on the chair, then quickly released my hand from his grip that was beginning to cut the blood from flowing.

I bring my unusually throbbing hand to my face, I use my other hand to rub feeling back in. Why was I so sensitive? Its only Batman who was grasping my hand, but it felt like Superman stepped on it.

I can feel Bruce's hot gaze following my every movement.

The distant beeping from the health monitor was the only break in the silence.

"Diana, you were asleep for two years."

His words came out flat, too matter-of-factly. It didn't phase him at all, or so it seemed.

"Two years?" My voice was slowly gaining strength, but the shock behind it covered everything else.

"Asleep?" As I try to comprehend everything, it just seems to be too much at the moment. "Two years in coma?"

Bruce's worrisome face disappeared behind the thick wall he built around himself who knows how long ago. That mask was there and it wasn't going to come off.

"Yes, two years Diana. I returned from my capture of trespassing on Themyscira a year ago and was sent to Olympus for my mortal trial. Under my order, Hawkgirl was able to escape before capture. Even if she is female, an unwelcomed mortal isn't allowed passage."

I know that anytime a mortal is under trial from the gods themselves, it isn't going to end well.

"What was your mortal penalty?" I don't think that I'm going to like the answer that he's going to give me, but I need to know.

He sits back down with a thud taking an over exaggerated breath. Running his hands through his crazy hair, he leans back and closes his eyes reminiscing the about the bad.

"I am 'gifted' with the power of flight, strength, and enhanced senses. I have inherited your Amazonian abilities, including your immortality."

He acted as if the news was bad, it was probably the best news I've ever heard come from his beautiful lips.

I was so excited that I tried to speak louder but it came out like a cry from hell.

I cleared my throat and whispered, "Batman, Bruce, that is not dreadful news, its-… its-… fabulous news!"

I was so happy that I thought I was going to fly out from under the sheets.

But at my words, his face seemed to contort into a grimace even more.

My celebration for good news clouded my sense of judgment. There had to be a catch, some sort of twist to the curse. For there always seems to be one.

"Diana, there's nothing to be happy about. My immortality and abilities comes with a price. My dim-witted choice to step foot on Paradise Island cost not only my life, but yours too."

His stern and forceful voice made me turn my attention to the bad news that always seems to follow the good.

Bruce reached out and rested his hand on my shoulder, "Listen Diana, you no longer have the abilities, the Amazon physiology, that you carried before. The gods…" he paused, searching my face for a better word, "switched, our physical abilities…"

Maybe I wasn't as distraught about it as I should be. If I were completely and fully honest with myself, I would say that was still the best news I've ever heard.

I will never see the man I love die in my arms, I will get to experience the life I've always wanted, to live like I could die any moment in any day. To live my life to the fullest knowing that I will have an end.

But I'm being selfish. The pain and sometimes the guilt that comes with living forever is now the burden of the Dark Knight.

He will see everyone he cares for die around him while he stays frozen in time.

"Bruce, are you saying that I am now… mortal?"

He grips my shoulder tighter, now that I'm no longer an immortal being, there will be a nasty bruise there.

I'm starting to think that his comforting shoulder touch was meant to brace himself.

"Yes."

Once again, if you guys have any suggestions about the story, please feel free to tell me! I am always looking for ways to improve my writing and the story!