Several months post- Justice League

Alfred Pennyworth almost missed his employer's arrival at the Wayne Manor, so distracted was he by the appalling flavor of something called 'energy tea drink.' It was manufactured in an aluminum cylinder with the approximate coloration of a poisonous South American dart frog. Approximately the same nutritional value too, in Alfred's view. An otherwise-delightful physician named Leslie Thompkins had brought him a dozen cans of the stuff, swearing that they were every bit as enchanting as his beloved Earl Grey. He made a note to have Bruce buy whatever company was responsible for the abomination. Buy it and immediately sell it for spare parts.

But that was last in a very long list of things that needed Bruce Wayne's attention this afternoon. For a week, a steady stream of contractors had filtered in and out of the rubble-strewn edifice, photographing every surface, drawing up terabytes of designs, and running up a tab for the Wayne Corporation that was well into eight figures with no end in sight. Due to a holding provision, the money wasn't technically spent yet for another day. And it was pocket change for a billionaire, of course. But the funds and the conditions Bruce had attached to them were enough to raise the butler's brows.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred had to raise his voice to be heard above the din of the fledgling construction efforts on the old manor. Fortunately, he'd been commanding the attention of one Bruce Wayne since toddling days. The man seemed to be searching for something or someone, but he stopped, his head coming up right into one of the bars of light that pierced the open space. It cut across his face as he turned and for just a moment transformed him into the Dark Knight.

Bruce stepped forward, erasing the trick of light. He looked preoccupied- a touch grayer at the temples, a bit more crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He'd lost weight since the Steppenwolf invasion and it would not have been stretching the truth too far to call his hair unkempt. Still, the man hummed with energy that he hadn't seen in quite some time. Not the destructive rage that had led him to attempt to murder Superman either.

If the butler had to put a name to it, he'd call it. . . purpose.

Bruce spotted him at last. "Alfred! Almost didn't see you there. Hey, have you seen-" He did a double-take. "What on earth are you drinking?"

"My first and last American beverage," Alfred assured him, setting the offending concoction down on the nearest table he could find.

"Let me guess, a gift from the new ladyfriend?"

"A question I'll be happy to answer if you'll first answer a few of mine." Alfred shuffled through the printed contracts atop a very large pile of paperwork. "You hired seventeen separate firms to rebuild this place, thereby septupling the already-extraordinary costs by my approximation."

Bruce leaned against the table and swiped Alfred's abandoned soft drink. "Septuple. Now there's a fun word."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Less 'fun' when quantified in actual dollars. And euros and won, for that matter. This may be the most expensive, most multinational coalition of construction firms ever assembled in Gotham."

"Try the whole east coast," Bruce corrected, skimming the ingredient list with more than a modicum of amusement. "And it wasn't a sevenfold increase in the budget. It was at least tenfold. Maybe more."

"You're going to spend a billion dollars on this place? On a manor in which you've scarcely set foot for a decade? What's wrong with the Glashaus ?"

"Nothing's wrong with the Glashaus." Bruce paused to digitally sign a tablet rushed over by one of the drone-like contractors. "We're not going to live here, Alfred."

"Then why resurrect it?"

"Because I refuse to let the depravity of a madman be the final legacy of my childhood home. This place will not be a manor, but a meeting place. A headquarters for the Justice League."

"And you're still attached to that name?"

Bruce took an insouciant sip of Alfred's tea. "It'll catch on."

"We've not had the slightest hint of extraterrestrial bother in months. Arthur Curry seems to be stationed in Atlantis for the time being. Young Wallace West is in Central City. Victor Stone is perhaps the closest, but he more or less lives at STAR Labs now. And Diana-" The butler froze, a thought having just hit him. "Master Bruce, where were you the past week?"

"He was in Europe," came the unmistakable, Mediterranean-accented voice of Diana Prince. "London, specifically."

She wore her long dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail that bounced behind her as she strode to the small section of unoccupied floor space that Alfred had managed to claim. The background din dropped a few decibels as the mostly-male contractors noticed the new arrival. She was dressed in utilitarian garb- dark leggings, white tennis shoes, and a scarlet Lululemon hoodie rolled up at the sleeves. She looked like an Olympic gymnast out for a jog and moved like she owned the whole building.

Alfred's weathered features broke out into a wide smile as she approached. "The lovely Ms. Prince, in the flesh! I didn't know we were to have the pleasure of your company. How wonderful it is to see you, my dear."

She gave the Englishman a warm hug "It is good to see you too, Alfred. You look well." Her gaze drifted to Bruce, who had an uncharacteristically awkward smile plastered on his face. "I was surprised to receive the invitation-in person no less. How could I say no?"

Alfred shot Bruce a quizzical look as Diana squeezed the billionaire in turn. His employer had been quite a busy lad. And was that a hint of color on his cheek as he tentatively returned the embrace?

Diana stepped back, hands on her hips, to take a full survey of the space. "You know," she said, "Bruce did invite me but he neglected to mention the reason. I'm assuming it has something to do with the army of busy little men scurrying around."

Alfred stroked his chin. "Care to provide some explanations, Master Bruce?"

"I would love to." Bruce downed the last of the pilfered beverage and jerked his head toward the double-doored entrance. "Alfred, think you can supervise things here while Diana and I take a walking tour of the grounds?"

"Of course. Just try not to spend another billion during your stroll."

"How else am I going to get us an unlimited supply of this stuff?" He gave the empty can a dramatic waggle before dropping it into a nearby recycling bin.

Alfred's jaw dropped a quarter of an inch. For him, the equivalent of pure apoplexy. He turned to Diana. "Honestly, I miss the days when he lacked a sense of humor."

"No one misses that," Bruce said. He gallantly offered an elbow to Diana, who in turn took it with a surprised smile. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way," she said.

The land on the estate surrounding Wayne Manor was Diana's favorite place in Gotham- would have been even if she didn't detest the rest of the city. She'd decided as much during the flight overhead, marveling at the cleared landscape bordered by red and golden woods as far as the eye could see. She wondered if Bruce had ever seen his own childhood home from such a vantage. If he'd ever had the time or the leisure to enjoy the natural beauty to which he was the sole heir and proprietor. Which summoned a mental image of her flying Bruce over the woods, his toes skimming the treetops as he dangled from her arms. The notion was so farcical that she let out a bark of laughter, surprising her companions.

"See something funny?" Bruce asked. They entered the treeline and were immediately engulfed in a new environment. The air under the canopy was noticeably cooler, the sunlight filtered through layers of foliage. The ambient songs of thrushes and warblers and finches echoed between the trees, mixing with the crunch of dried leaves underfoot

Her laughter finally subsided. "Just an amusing thought. Anyway, I'd say we're far enough away for what I presume is to be a private conversation."

Bruce nodded, leading them to a stop in a small clearing of sunlit underbrush. He released her arm and stepped back far enough to face her. "I'll try to make this brief. In the months since Steppenwolf, I've been putting together plans for a command post, if you will. For the Justice League."

"Are we set on that name?" Diana interjected lightly.

"Oh, don't start," Bruce muttered. "Now you sound like Alfred. Whatever we call it, the team needs a public face, and we can't exactly hold press conferences from the Batcave. You'll recall the last time we were here together, at the manor in the immediate aftermath of the invasion. We talked about turning this into a meeting place."

"We talked about adding a table."

"Well, I took that idea and ran with it to the tune of about. . . fifty billion dollars. Poor Alfred's blood pressure will never be the same."

Diana's eyes widened at the figure. "The obscenity of capitalism aside, that sounds like an expensive table."

"It's an entire defense system," Bruce said. "Best money this obscene capitalist ever spent. With some input from Cyborg, I managed to get a network of defense satellites up and running that will detect the space-fold disturbances created by Motherbox events and locate their distinct energy signatures. It's powered by a five-hundred petaflop supercomputer hosed in a 1.7-acre sublevel beneath the housing complex and cooled by about a million gallons of diverted water from Lake Gotham. It's the most powerful private processing array on the planet and it will allow us to truly monitor the cosmos."

"And the Batcave?"

"We'll still have access to the Batcave from the Hall of Justice we need it for training exercises or covert operations.

Diana didn't yet appear sold. "The technical specifications are not something I can comment on," she said. "It sounds like you've bought a lot of very shiny, very expensive toys. I will grant you the efficacy of such means for defense. But if so, why not keep it a secret?"

Bruce was already shaking his head. "If we learned anything about Apokoliptans, from their technology to their warriors, it's that they respond to strength. The power vacuum left by the loss of Superman activated a threat that nearly destroyed us all. The seven of us together are the most powerful force on the planet. In the entire galaxy. The seat of that power will be right here in Gotham City. That manor will be a crisis HQ, embassy, and operational base all in one."

He retrieved his cell phone and, with a few keystrokes, pulled up a holographic array of images and documents. Some were diagrams, others inventories for chemicals with names like ethylene vinyl acetate. She saw technical specifications for satellites and an orbital rail platform called a Watchtower.

She reached out and touched the shimmering image, surprised when one of the files responded to her touch. "I have a WaynePhone and I'm pretty sure it can't do this."

"Gotta get the newest version, Princess." The corner of his mouth crooked up into a half-smile that dizzied her for a moment. It wasn't that he bore any strong resemblance to Steve Trevor beyond the superficial: tall, muscular, dark hair, strong jaw. Diana had met thousands of such men during her century in Man's world. Most bored her tears. Few could tease her without pretense, with the mere twitch of an expression. When Steve had done it, her heart had melted right there on the battlefield of the Great War. When Bruce did it. . .

She didn't dare finish the thought. She liked Bruce well enough, but he was no Steve. No one was. No one could be.

"Diana?" Whatever Bruce had seen in her expression cooled his smile and furrowed his brow.

She crossed her arms. "Why did you invite me here?"

"To show you-"

"That you have more money than God? Believe me, I know. And you can spend it just as fast, I see."

Bruce was already shaking his head. "I haven't spent a dime, Diana. Not yet. I have all that money in escrow waiting to be released."

She cocked her head. "Waiting for what?"

"You." Bruce paced as he talked, something she'd often seen him do. As Batman, he could be as still as a gargoyle. But Bruce Wayne was like the ataphoi- the restless dead in Themysciran folk tales.

Her arms crossed even tighter. "Explain."

"You're the heart of this team, Diana. You're the only one of us I would trust, myself included, to shape its future. I have a million plans and very deep pockets, but you're the only one of us who can sell this."

"I am not a saleswoman."

"But you are an ambassador, no?"

"Not for a long time."

"Then come out of retirement. We need it, Diana. Our honeymoon with the governments of the world is going to come to an end very soon. Four years ago, S.T.A.R. Labs' servers were full of experiments on how to synthesize kryptonite and red sun radiation. They're still at it- except now they've added countermeasures for Atlanteans, cyborgs, speedsters. . ."

"Amazons," Diana finished for him, eyes darkening dangerously. "You men and your weapons. S.T.A.R Labs. LuthorCorp. WayneTech." She said it like a vulgarity. "You just throw money at whatever makes the biggest goddamned explosion. The instant you learn of a new culture or civilization, your first thought is 'how can I kill it?'"

Bruce was already shaking his head. "That's the world of men, Diana. You should know-you've lived here longer than anyone. You know how fragile this planet is. The whole point of this thing I'm trying to build is to protect it in a way that doesn't end with all of us hunted down by a major superpower."

"Bruce-"

"Also, don't lump me in with Luthor." His voice was low and firm. "I thought you knew me better than that. There hasn't been a day since Clark's death that I haven't regretted what I did to Clark. Everything I have done since then has been to atone."

Her frown softened. He was right, of course. She reached out, laying a conciliatory hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I do know you better than that- I know this is well-intentioned. And it's impressive, it really is."

He put his hands in his pockets, lips pursed. "I sense a 'but' coming."

" But . . .I don't exactly need my lasso to recognize penance. You feel guilty for Clark being sidelined, and everything that followed as a result. Up to and including the near-destruction of the planet. It's a heavy burden to bear. I could tell you that this guilt is irrational and counterproductive, but I know from experience that you can't reason your feelings away." She let out a self-conscious laugh. "Hell, I'm still in love with a man who died a hundred years ago."

"There's more to it than the guilt, Diana. This could change the world. It could give us the legitimacy we need to truly make a difference."

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I will always be there if the world is threatened. You have my word, and you can always reach me. But I don't think I'm ready for something this public. And I'm not sure that once this burst of conscience passes, you will be either."

He gave a slow nod. Stepped back so that her hand dropped back to her side

"Bruce," she started.

"It's okay, really." His eyes met hers. "Don't worry about it, I'm glad you heard me out."

"I'm glad I did too. I was thrilled by your surprise trip to London." She looked back at the manor, a lone structure in the natural expanse. "I enjoyed seeing the manor again as well. And I wish you luck on. . .whatever you end up doing with it."

Both of them turned to face the manor. Its stone exterior wore the signs of age and abuse, but it was still a hauntingly beautiful sight. Diana had once asked Bruce to tell her what happened to the manor that had turned it into a hollowed, bombed-out shell. He'd politely told her that under no circumstances would he ever discuss it.

And now he wanted to turn it into an embassy for superheroes. She had to admire that conviction, even if she wasn't going to be a part of it. By some unspoken agreement, they began the walk back to the manor together. The warm blues of the afternoon sky had given way to brilliant splashes of orange and purple. Stepping back out of the treeline was like pulling back the curtain on a beautifully painted vista.

She nudged Bruce gently as they walked. "You've given more than enough, Bruce. To this city, to the world. No one would blame you for taking an early retirement from the fight and settling down to spend your nights watching the sunset. Alfred could join you to make it less sad and lonely."

Bruce chuckled "I wouldn't wish that on Lex Luthor, much less my butler."

Relieved that the tension had faded, Diana went on. She was practically walking heel to toe, preserving the time until they reached the manor. He seemed happy enough to do the same. "Okay, not Alfred. A girlfriend, perhaps?" She gave him a playful jab in the ribs. "I'm sure even Batman has a type."

Bruce snorted. "I do have a type, now that you mention it." He was looking at her from the corner of his eye, frank admiration written on his face. "Blondes."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes." His deadpan was flawless, his light tone belied by the intensity in his gaze. "Short, unathletic blondes. Can't get enough of them."

Those eyes were too dangerous for a mortal, Diana decided as they came back to the manor entrance. What if some poor woman fell into them and just kept plummeting forever. The dizzying sensation from earlier returned. They were facing each other in front of the manor's double doors and Diana found herself speechless. She waited for the memory of Steve to wash away this sensation that seemed to root her feet to the ground and her eyes on Bruce. It never took long, when she felt the nascent buds of attraction.

Rather than memories of Steve, her mind conjured a particularly vivid image of her and Bruce locked in a soul-searing kiss right there on the landing at the entrance of the manor. Her face flooded with heat and she had just begun to nervously tuck an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear when both doors opened, revealing Alfred at the entryway.

"Master Bruce, Miss Diana. I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost in the woods like a couple of storybook children. He gestured to the reduced activity behind him. "Regarding the manor, I'm told the last of these gentlemen will be finished within the hour." His gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them. "Shall I ask what exactly transpired on this jaunt?"

"You shall not," Bruce said. "And I'll be dismissing the contractors for now. The renovations are going to be far less extensive than I'd thought."

"And will our guest be staying for supper? Perhaps a libation? I do craft a mean cocktail, ma'am."

Despite the temptation to accept, she found herself shaking her head no. "I. . .think I should probably call it a day."

The butler nodded. "Understandable. I take it from the absence of a vehicle that you flew here. All the way from London?"

"In my invisible jet no less."

Alfred chortled at that. "Good one. A pleasure as always, Miss Diana. I hope we'll be seeing much more of you."

"You as well, Alfred." She hugged the older man and watched him retreat into the manor, leaving her and Bruce alone once more.

"Invisible jet huh?" Bruce couldn't resist the tease.

Her cheeks dimpled in silent amusement. "The funny part is you think I was joking."

He looked ready to banter back, but then just before doing so, he seemed to think better of his reply. His gaze was locked on hers like a magnet as if searching for confirmation of something in the windows of her soul. The attraction roared back like an ocean through a burst dam, flooding her cheeks with warmth, and causing her heart to jackhammer in her chest.

He likes you. It was a realization that for her happened on an almost daily basis. The number of heterosexual men on the planet not attracted to Diana of Themysicra could be counted on one hand. Even on the team, she'd have to be blind not to notice Flash's adolescent crush or Aquaman's habit of checking out her ass during mission briefings.

But this isn't that- Bruce likes you.

She couldn't begin to process what that meant in the moment. "You're staring, Bruce," was all she could think to say.

Despite his smile, she knew instantly that she'd said the wrong thing. A wall she'd never even noticed falling rematerialized in an instant. The absence of the warmth he'd shown her for just a moment felt positively frigid.

"Bruce-" she began.

"I just wanted to let you know that the next time you're in Gotham, you should stay at the Wayne Tower. Kane suites."

Back to safe conversational territory then . She forced an exaggerated sigh. "Isn't that like three thousand dollars a night?"

"The Kane suites are four thousand. But my name at the door will get you a generous discount. Ten percent at the very least."

She tapped her chin. "So I pay what, like fifteen dollars?"

"Ha. Maybe in Themysciran math."

Which earned him more than a laugh. Impulsively, she stepped in and planted a kiss on his cheek. His aftershave carried notes of rum and woods and spice. Not the synthetic compounds, the real thing. She stepped back and tweaked the lapel of his peacoat back into place where she'd disrupted it.

You like him too. Not so much a realization as an acceptance of something she'd known for some time.

"Goodbye, Diana." He absently ran his thumb across the side of his jaw where she'd left just the slightest trace of lip gloss.

"Goodbye, Bruce."

She flew. Slowly, at first, not wanting to lose sight of him too soon. She watched Bruce and the manor recede beneath her as she rose until he was little more than a dot on the landscape. Until there was nothing but landscape and water. Until she could see the curvature of the earth. She drank in the sight and then closed her eyes.

It was her space to think. Ever since learning to fly, she'd treated the sky as her sanctum. It made her feel closer to Steve. Most weeks, she found a day to roam the stratosphere. At high enough altitudes, she didn't even have to focus on flying. She could just float between the clouds, untethered by gravity. Just like Steve, her pilot. The only man she'd ever loved. She would pull the memories of him around her like a blanket and bask in nostalgia. As long as she had that, she didn't mind her solitary existence. The memories had always been enough.

Until now. She was already beginning to feel the dull ache of longing, and it wasn't for Steve.

He likes you.

You like him too.

What are you going to do about it?