Chapter 28: The Road to Metropolis
Diana watched the rugged Gotham landscape with its tall, menacing buildings, its narrow alleys and roadways, and its tough-minded and quick-tongued citizens pass her by. So much of Gotham was dark, even during the safer light of day. Yet darkness did not breed ugliness and villainy, it only made it easier for vile creatures to hide and lurk within. No, criminals of all kinds could also be found in the light. Some, in fact, relied on the light to mask their evil deeds, the light a skilled magician's illusion and an unwitting accomplice. Magicians like Luthor and Talia.
The unbidden image of Talia and Luthor came to her mind. Their bodies entwined on his desk, Talia on her knees, Luthor's face contorted in depraved ecstasy as he came. The images jumbled together in Diana's mind, a collage of sexual pleasure made deviant because of the people involved.
And she'd felt like a voyeur when Zatanna had laid the pictures out, one-by-one, on the conference table the following afternoon. Her entire board was there, shocked at the pictures but not at all surprised. They'd all known Talia and Luthor were working together, they just didn't realize how intimately their connection had run.
"They're disgusting, but the pictures prove nothing other than Zatanna's talent with a camera."
Hippolyta had been right.
"Maybe we're all thinking of the pictures in the wrong way. They aren't a smoking gun or a confession, true, but there's value in them. It's all in how we choose to use them."
Everyone had turned his or her focus on Arthur.
"Because we know Talia's true identity," Arthur continued, "we know who her father is. We assumed, probably correctly, that Luthor does as well, and has aligned himself with Ra's al Ghul. But we've never had any real proof of the connection other than Talia, and she has no criminal record."
Which—Diana knew—did not mean she wasn't a criminal, only that she had yet to be implicated and arrested for any crime.
"As a proud father of a little girl," he said, beaming at his wife, referring to his and Mera's two-year daughter, Atlanna, "the thought of a business partner of mine doing the things Luthor is doing to Talia in those pictures would make me see red."
Ollie and John were the first ones to sober to the idea, especially John who had a seven-year old daughter of his own - Anansi.
"So you think Ghul may not know Luthor is bangin' Talia?" Ollie had said. "That makes a lot of sense, actually. Even the worst criminals don't relish the idea of one of their compatriots playing around in their sandbox."
"And there is no more personal sandbox than a father's daughter," John had added.
They had all turned to Diana then. But it was Arthur who'd asked, "How would you like for us to proceed?"
She had no good answer, then or now. So she'd said simply, "Do nothing for now. I need time to consider our options and the likely consequences of each one. By our next board meeting, I'll have a plan to bring before you."
There were nods all around.
She'd given herself a month to devise a plan. A divide and conquer plan that would also include catching the two who had invaded her home and killed her family. Diana wanted none of them to go free. Her net would catch them all. One way or another, they would all belong to her.
"A penny for your thoughts."
Diana smiled, then turned away from the window and the speeding cars and to the man across from her. Clark. The smile grew. She couldn't help it, and lord knows Diana had tried. But keeping Clark out of her heart, once he'd reentered her life, had been nigh on impossible.
The assault on the fortified castle her heart had been locked within was an unexpected war of honesty, gentle persuasion, patience, and humility. The moat had been the first obstacle he'd scaled, and that had been the road he'd traversed from Metropolis to Gotham. A journey that was meager in terms of miles but lengthy and rocky in emotional distance.
And when he reached the outer wall, with its bridge drawn and sentinels on the Parapet, their bows and arrows poised to do their worst, he'd whispered words of apology and regret and held his arms up and high, willing to accept his punishment.
The drawbridge had lowered, and so did the weapons aimed at his heart.
Clark Kent had been allowed through the wall but not yet into the castle. And there he remained, unperturbed by the silence and coldness within the stone structure. Making himself at home, the vassal went about warming the interior, mending cracks and holes and putting all to rights. Creating a habitable space that was welcoming and secure, welcoming and trusting, welcoming and wanting.
Then the door to the castle slowly, creakily opened, beckoning the vassal forward, a glimmer of light shining just within.
Dusting himself off, he'd come. Back straight, chin up, eyes forward, heart pure, he'd advanced, sure of the inevitability of his invitation in each confident stride. But there was no arrogance there, none found within the willing vassal, only hopefulness borne of trials overcome and a deep, abiding trust in oneself and the lady of the castle.
And when Diana had read Clark's book, each word, sentence, and paragraph had held her captive in the heartbreaking yet uplifting talons of a Phoenix reborn. In the end, through murky swamps and paveless forests called life, for Clark, self-empowerment was no longer the road less traveled.
Clark had found his own empowerment and he'd grabbed it with both hands, the narrative an intimate portrait into the heart, soul, and mind of the man.
And it had been that self-portrait, the mirror that had been pointed at the world for so many years and used to judge others, had been flipped inward, a forced reflection of self. He'd opened up his Johari Window: the façade, what was known only to him; the arena, what was known to all, the unknown, what was known by no one; and the blind spot, what was known to others but not self.
Clark had written it all, laid out his Johari Window in a memoir that would resonate with thousands, if not millions of people. For who did not have their own Johari Window to which to contend?
Diana did.
So when Clark had kissed her, pressing his warm, familiar lips to her own, Diana had completely dropped the façade, giving in to her blind spot. Clark had known, as did her family and friends. It had been Diana who had refused to know, refused to see and admit the bond she'd once shared with Clark was slowly being reformed, different and stronger. Different and stronger, just like the two of us.
"Even at the rate of one cent, I think the bill for my thoughts would be quite steep."
Clark glanced at the tinted glass separating the driver from Clark and Diana. "Is the partition sound proof?"
She nodded.
"What of visuals? Can Manny see us?"
"No, Clark. That's the point of the privacy glass."
The smile that followed her response was wicked and sensual.
Clark, who had been sitting across from Diana in the limo, moved next to her.
"This is better." Twining a hand in her hair, he pulled Diana close . . . and kissed her. Wet and wonderful, the kiss was their first since they'd parted at Clark's jazz club last Saturday. Diana hadn't seen him since. Except for the first two or three weeks when Clark first began researching Thomas Wayne, Clark had stayed in his Metropolis home whenever he wasn't scheduled to interview someone for the biography, or they had a date that was in Gotham. The last week had been no exception. He'd kissed her good night and that had been it, until he showed up at Wayne Manor this morning for their date.
It was unnecessary, but he wanted to escort Diana to Martha's home where they would meet up with his mother, friend and partner, Jimmy Olsen, C.J., and Lois. The thought of not only meeting Clark's son but also coming face-to-face with his ex-wife had given Diana a migraine. As far as Lois was concerned, Diana was the reason for her failed marriage, her husband's lack of total commitment. How would Diana handle an angry ex-wife? Or a son who may view her as trying to replace his mother, or perhaps even trying to take his father from him? It was all nearly too much when added to all the other drama she had to deal with.
But when Clark took her in his arms and kissed her the way he was doing now, all the termites threatening to destroy her home and life, bite by greedy bite, Diana temporarily forgot. She forgot and just allowed herself to feel the pleasure of being desired, of being held, of being kissed with wild wantonness.
Kisses to a throat gone dry, and bites to an ear that registered only the rapid pulse of her heart, had Diana moaning.
"You taste so good." One large hand found skirt, thigh, and then flesh. "You feel even better. So soft, so warm."
Mouth still working her neck, licking and kissing, Diana's eyes closed and permitted her body to absorb all the erotic sensations Clark was arousing in her. Old and new feelings mixed with new desires but also new fears.
As she'd told him on their last date, her life was not a peaceful one. Danger, real danger was a constant threat. It was a life she'd become accustomed; although, it was not a life she wanted. The standoff would end soon. The question, as it always was, was how it would end for the primaries—Diana Wayne, Lex Luthor, Talia and Ra's al Ghul?
Lips back on her mouth, Clark drew Diana deeper into his spell, his kisses a potent elixir, his roaming hands a magician's wand bending her sensitized body to his will.
She was falling - wanting a dream she couldn't yet have, too eager to forget all she had to conquer to have her Prince Charming. But there were dragons yet to be slayed, wrongs yet to be righted, and justice yet to be served. None of which she could do if she put her heart ahead of her soul.
And Clark needed to be told. Their phone conversations during the course of the week were not the ideal time to have such a conversation, so Diana had put it off, although he'd asked about her bodyguards. Too tempting kisses notwithstanding, now would be an ideal time to talk. Maybe after hearing the truth, Clark may not want me anywhere near his son. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't.
Forcing her body to obey her mind, Diana broke the kiss.
Clark appeared surprised but unperturbed. He moved in to reclaim her mouth, and she nearly let him, his magic having stirred and awakened vestiges of Diana the woman.
"We need to talk."
One hand returned to her skirt and the skin Clark had revealed just above her thigh-high silk stocking. A thumb stroked over the warm skin, raising goose flesh and earthly need.
Diana bit back a moan and then a groan of disappointment when she repeated, "We need to do a bit of heavy lifting, Clark. You wanted to know about the bodyguards. I'm ready to tell you."
Some of the lusty fog clouding his eyes began to fade. The hand left her leg as he sat up and stared at her, desire for her clearly warring with his desire to have his questions answered.
"You know I want to know, but right now is like throwing ice water into my very hot shower."
She knew and she was sorry. Hell, she'd been in that nice, hot shower with him.
"We need to talk."
Clark returned to his original seat, placing him in front instead of next to her. "So you've said, Diana. And, yes, I want to know what's up with those bodyguards of yours." He ran a hand through his hair and took several controlled breaths. "We have about an hour before we reach Ma's house and if we can't spend it making out in the back of this insanely huge limo of yours, then we might as well check something off of my 'need to know about each other' list."
He had a list? Diana had no idea.
"What's on the list?"
"Don't worry about it. That conversation is a tangent. I'll tell you later. The bodyguards I want to know about now."
"Fine, but I want a copy of the list."
"Why? It's my list."
"Is the list about me? Us?"
"Yes."
"Then I would like to have a copy."
"Why?"
"For editing, of course."
His gaze narrowed. "You're not editing my list. It's my list."
Diana laughed, and Clark's eyes narrowed to annoyed slits that finally shone with a glimmer of comprehension.
"You know, Diana, I never liked that sense of humor of yours. You're not at all funny."
"It wouldn't be so funny, Clark, if you weren't so anal about certain things."
"Speaking of anal," he said, his eyes widening with his own humor, "that's number eight on my list. Tell me, Diana, have you changed your mind about that?"
When her mouth fell open, it was Clark who laughed, low and satisfied but with also masculine curiosity. A sexual yearning for something they had never done, something she'd refused to allow him to even try.
No way were they having that conversation now.
Apparently satisfied he'd gotten Diana back; Clark reclined in the seat then took on a serious expression.
"Tell me about the bodyguards."
He knew plenty already. This didn't have to be a drawn out discussion.
"A year after Bruce had taken control of Wayne Industries as CEO; he discovered several discrepancies in the board's reports and other company documents. He began to investigate and learned more than he ever intended. Years of inventions deemed by the board as unsafe or unfit for use or sale had found their way, in some form or fashion, to Lexcorp."
"The Wayne board was stealing from their own company?"
"Yes, but worst, Wayne Industries receive many government offers to create weapons that's only purpose is to kill and destroy - land or people. Thomas Wayne always refused such contracts, no matter how much money he was offered. But once he died, the board began accepting those contracts, never asking or even informing Martha or Bruce."
"So the board put Wayne Industries in the military business?"
"More like the war and subjugation business. Big money, Clark. Money that comes with blood and suffering attached to it, I assure you."
"What did Bruce do when he found out?"
"He dug deeper, investigated the board members, unsure if they were all involved or just some. Not surprisingly, they were all guilty. Every single one of them received a kickback from their dealings with Lex Luthor. Betrayal pays handsomely."
"I assume that's the reason Hippolyta and Donna and the others now comprise your board."
"It was Bruce's idea. He planned to get rid of the lot of his father's old board and replace them with people he could trust. Hippolyta, Donna, and Ollie are business people through and through. John, Dinah, Mera, Mari, and Arthur provide their own and differing set of knowledge, skills, and perspectives. We don't all need to think the same to work as a collaborative, effective team."
And their diversity was their biggest strength, a leverage that had seen them through the last three years. There was no bit of information, no data set, no proposed plan that wasn't dissected from every possible angle, seen from every possible lens. They were no simple confederation of loosely united individuals but a true corporate league, a federation bound by shared values, beliefs, and goals.
"I'll tell you what I know, then what I speculate. I knew Bruce had been looking into the professional and personal lives of his board and that he had already dismissed the heads of Research and Design and Accounting for questionable business practices. I know he suspected Lex Luthor was the one bribing the board but none of his research directly linked Luthor to any member of his board - a Lexcorp employee or two, sure, but not the man himself. I know Bruce also thought Luthor had a partner."
And this was where the last conversation she'd had with her deceased husband became clearer, particularly in light of the e-mail he'd sent to Clark the night of his death.
By the way Bruce had refused to talk about business after the baby shower, Diana had known he'd learned something new in his investigation. He'd basically said as much when he'd tucked her in for what turned out to be the last time. "I have a few documents I need to review. I'll tell you about them tomorrow," he'd said to her.
It wasn't until Talia Head, a.k.a. Talia al Ghul had walked into Wayne Industries, seeking to fill the Administrative Assistant's vacancy, that Diana had begun to put the pieces together.
"Commissioner Gordon thought it best to put out to the public that the shooting was a robbery gone bad."
Clark's gaze intensified. "Are you saying it wasn't? Don't tell me someone deliberately tried to kill you and Bruce."
She wished she couldn't tell Clark that, but it would be a flat out lie.
"Gordon believes what I knew to be true when that beast of a man pushed his gun into my stomach and told me, 'That husband of yours thinks he can play with the big boys; he can't. But he'll learn. Oh, yes, he'll learn.'"
Then he had shot her, Diana's life no more valuable to him than an expired train ticket.
Immediately, Clark was next to her, putting his arms around her and holding her tight. It was then she realized she'd been trembling . . . and crying as she spoke those unforgettable words.
Through tears that wouldn't abate, she pushed on, needing to finish, needing him to know.
"That's how I came to know Steve Trevor. President Obama assigned several FBI agents to the case and put Steve in charge. But they found nothing on the assassins or any Intel to link Luthor or someone else to the shootings. Eventually, the other agents left and Steve stayed on, pledging himself to the case and my safety."
Head on Clark's sturdy shoulder, Diana continued. "Because I wasn't killed and have refused to slink away from the public eye, Steve and my family think I may still be a target. I have all the information Bruce gathered on the old board but I have yet to find the documents he said he would share with me. I'm positive whatever he found is what got him killed, the reason why those men were sent to my home."
"You think he found the link, the proof that would send Luthor to jail?"
That's exactly what she thought. To date, all she had were hollow speculations and a lot of partially connected dots.
"Yes. More importantly, I think Bruce discovered Luthor's partner in crime."
"Talia's father?"
She nodded, feeling better now that she wasn't talking specifically about the night of her chronic nightmares.
Retrieving a tissue from her purse, Diana dabbed her eyes.
"Four months ago, Talia Head came to me in search of employment, a recommendation by Lex Luthor in hand. As far as they were concerned, I had no reason to think of Luthor as anything other than a shrewdly brilliant, well-respected businessman with White House aspirations. Nor could they have known that I knew exactly who Talia Head was."
Clark was across from her again, respecting her need to tell her story without using him as an emotional crutch. But he was a lifeline for a woman who, despite her touted independence, still required one.
"The only thing I can reason is that Talia and Luthor assumed Bruce had never told me about his past conquests. Many people thought him to be a playboy who'd cleaned up his life for his wife but who was, at heart, a man of mystery and lies."
And Diana had hated that image of her husband, hated that he'd done much to create such a shallow, inaccurate image. But such low expectations had also served Bruce well when he'd resumed his rightful place as head of Wayne Industries. All too many, especially his deceitful board, thought him incapable of running the company, no less ferreting out their secrets.
But he had.
They did not know the real Bruce Wayne. And neither had Talia al Ghul.
"There were very few secrets between me and Bruce. And none involved his past lovers, including Talia. He told me about her when I returned from Europe and again when she tried to draw him into an affair with her. I didn't ask questions and he didn't elaborate. There was no need. I knew Bruce. Once he was done with a person or a project, he was done."
Whatever had been between Talia and Bruce was done and over with before he and Diana became an item. And she'd never given the woman a moment's thought until she appeared at Wayne Industries four months ago.
"I think Bruce found out that Lex Luthor was working with Ra's al Ghul, a wanted felon. I think Luthor, Ghul, or both learned what Bruce was up to and feared what he would do with the information. With a security code Talia probably managed to learn when she dated Bruce, Luthor or Ghul hired two killers and sent them to Wayne Manor to take care of Bruce and to find whatever information they believed Bruce had on them."
Bruce's library had been searched, that was clear, and his laptop taken. But they hadn't found the safe where Bruce had stashed the flash drive. But neither had Diana found Bruce's incriminating evidence. If she had, this horror that had become her life would have ended years ago.
"And Talia has no idea you know any of this?"
"No, and her ignorance will remain until I decide what to do with her. Right now, we've been allowing her to find pretty useless information on Wayne projects. Enough so that Luthor and her father think her spying is paying off but nothing that will harm us or anyone else. But what we've managed to learn from her has been priceless."
She'd tell Clark about the photos of Talia and Luthor later.
"We're hoping she'll eventually lead us to her father or the men who shot me and Bruce."
Clark studied her, his ocean blue eyes piercing and far too astute for her liking.
"This is all very complicated, Diana."
"I told you my life was complicated and not at all peaceful. Now you understand."
"I understand better than you know."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I haven't truly been listening to you. Don't get me wrong, I heard everything you said to me since we started this heavy lifting business. But I didn't really listen when you said you weren't ready, that you couldn't give me what I wanted."
He moved back to her side, twisting so that they were facing. Clark took her hands into his own.
"You were trying to tell me you quite literally are unable to move on with your life. I thought it was because you were simply afraid or couldn't trust me. But it's so much deeper than that, isn't it?"
"Yes."
He finally comprehended. Her future was inexplicably tied to her past and her present, no matter how much she may have wished otherwise. The bright light that was Clark Kent was beauty personified, a check she yearned to cash and deposit into Diana's First Bank of Lost Love. But she couldn't, not just yet.
"But you want more, don't you?"
"Yes, of course I do."
She'd stopped denying that truth. Stopped lying to herself that all she needed for sustenance was the food of revenge and justice, a paltry, insubstantial diet at best. After having Clark back in her life, Diana knew she could never feast on moldy bread again, not when Clark offered her a smorgasbord that would leave her full and sated.
"I can give you that more. I want to give you all I didn't have it in me to give you before."
She believed him, but she couldn't lay down her burden. The dead cried out for justice, and so did the living. All those innocents hurt by Luthor and Ghul were not nameless, faceless people to Diana. They were people who counted - whose lives had meaning. She would not turn her back on them or her mission.
"I can't stop, Clark. I won't stop, not until this is over. Please don't ask it of me."
And what would she do if he did? If the ultimatum was put before her? Something would have to give. Likely my heart, torn asunder. Again.
But his words of, "I traveled my journey, Diana, and so must you," had her melting into pools of sparkling magic that felt an awful lot like love. "If you need to find your peace, the key that will unlock the chains that bind you to the past, before we can be fully together, then do it. I'll be here. Trust me, I'm not going anywhere."
He hugged her. "How many times must I tell you that? I'm here for the duration, woman, for as long as you want me."
She wanted him for forever, but she was afraid to utter that wish aloud. Afraid that Clark, too, would be taken from her. And if that happened, Diana knew she wouldn't survive. The wretched thought had her shivering in his arms.
He held her tighter, and she was comforted by the steady, sure beat of his heart.
They had to be nearing Martha's home and Diana was not at all near her best. It hadn't been the wisest decision to have the conversation during the drive but it did feel good to have it all out in the open.
She lifted her head. "After all that I've told you, I'd understand if you changed your mind about today. It's not too late, Clark. Manny can drop you off and take me back to Gotham."
Clark reached around Diana, found her purse, and handed it to her.
"I assume you have a mirror and other stuff I can't begin to imagine in your purse. As beautiful as you are, you don't need it." He shrugged. "We have time. Dry your eyes and do your woman thing."
"My 'woman thing'?" Diana opened her bag and found her compact.
"You're not getting out of it, Diana. And I'm not about to let you draw me into another taunt. If I could get on those death traps you call roller coasters, you can suck it up and meet my son, ex-wife, and friend."
Her eyes were a little puffy and red. Like I've been crying. Great. Martha will think Clark and I quarreled. She grabbed a few more "woman things" from her bag and went to work, making herself presentable.
"You have selective hearing."
"No, I just won't allow you to use the unknown to dictate what we do or don't do."
"Allow?"
"It won't work, Diana. I refuse to be baited."
The limo slowed then stopped. Clark looked over her shoulder and out the tinted window, and then, with a frown of realization said, "The windows are bullet proof, aren't they?"
The answer was obvious so she didn't respond.
"When will all of this be over?"
"Soon." I hope.
"Do you have a plan?"
"Tentative."
"Does it involve putting you in harm's way?"
She didn't answer.
He swore.
Then he kissed her. Hard and quick.
"Your plan is now officially added to my list. And I'm officially part of your plan."
She opened her mouth to object, but the damn man kissed her again then jumped out as soon as Manny opened the door.
Giving her own silent curse, Diana plastered on a smile then alighted from the car. It was time to meet Clark's family.
TO BE CONTINUED
