Author's notes: You guys are so wonderful ❤ Thank you for sticking around
It's quite a lot of fun to finally get to the present-day events of this story. Now, Justice League…. I have quite conflicted feelings about that film, which I'm not going to go into. However, I'm quit glad that it fixed the issue of bringing Superman back to life for me. This part, and the next one, were written before the film came out and Clark was already in them, even though I wasn't sure how. Well, now we all do – hooray. That, and the character introductions were useful, I'm going to keep them. And Diana hitting Bruce for badmouthing Steve. Everything else – never happened.
This chapter takes place after the events of JL, but before they find that new manor in the end of the film, although we'll get there. Right now, all we have is Bruce's glass house.
Also for those of you who never saw Suicide Squad, or forgot what happened there: Amanda Waller gave Bruce the files on other metahumans, including Barry Allen and Arthur Curry. That particular scene is going to be referred to when they speak again.
Aside from that, you're good to go :) Have fun!
Gotham, 2017
There were exactly two things in the world that Amanda Waller hated with a passion – asking for help and dealing with Bruce Wayne. In no particular order. Combined, they were her worst nightmare. It frustrated her to no end that there was nothing she could do to stop him, seeing as how his 'heroic' endeavours weren't technically illegal; nor could she control him in any way, which, at times, felt even worse. Amanda Waller didn't like not being in control.
In her 20-year long career in the US government, she had a 'privilege' of meeting the worst of the worst – something she wasn't particularly proud of, although it made her feel like she was having an upper hand in just about any situation nonetheless – but she had yet to encounter another individual who could be defined as a human equivalent of a headache as much as that man.
To say that she wasn't overly fond of dealing with Bruce Wayne, whatever the circumstances, would be a major understatement, all things considered. And yet here they were, all spread out over the conference room below her office like an impromptu party. The only thing missing was perhaps a picnic blanket and an assortment of snacks.
Bruce was the only one who was invited, but Waller should have known better. She wasn't particularly surprised that Diana Prince came along, seeing as how they seemed to be co-running their club for the special and the gifted, although Barry Allen and Alfred Pennyworth were certainly an unexpected appearance. She was not prepared for them, and being caught off-guard didn't sit well with her. That man was enough of a wild card even without trying to make her trip over her own feet with every step she took.
Amanda Waller did not like that at all.
"No," Bruce said the second she stopped speaking, and had they been in a different situation, she would have appreciated the fact that he even let her finish.
"We're on the same side, you understand that, right?" Waller reminded him flatly, and there was something pleasing about not showing him just how much he was getting under her skin, she thought as he pressed his lips together.
This man was impossible to reason with, in part because the idea of teaming up with anyone went against everything that he was (she was surprised beyond measure that he'd decided to expand his team rather than keep on leaping from rooftop to rooftop by himself), and in part because disagreeing with any opinion that differed from his own was in his nature more than anything else. Certainly more than relying on common sense, it seemed.
She didn't want it, either. None of this was something that Waller would have preferred to deal with under other circumstances. She and Bruce Wayne were alike that way – neither one of them was good at playing well with the others. On top of that, the man standing before her had a god complex and an affinity for breaking the rules – everything that was an honest-to-god nightmare in her line of work. If it was her personal choice, Bruce Wayne would have never stepped into her office in the first place; not to mention the merry party that he insisted on bringing along with him, either for moral support or to witness him deflect her jabs – she wasn't quite sure yet.
The only problem here was that they needed each other, and Gotham needed them both, and Amanda Waller knew that he knew it, too. And they both equally hated it, neither one of them used to giving in.
Bruce let out a short snort. "And you want to spy on us?"
"I believe the press is doing a damn fine job there already," Waller deadpanned, her eyes flickering toward a stack of newspapers on the cabinet, the headline of each of them featuring someone from his home-grown gang.
Superman's return alone was such a big deal it managed to have stolen every front page for weeks on end. Barry Allen made an appearance or two in the recent past, and while Diana Prince was less frequent a guest in their neck of the woods, she'd also made quite a name for herself. Arthur Curry and Victor Stone were not that much on display, either less involved or stealthier than the others, however even they didn't stay completely unnoticed. If Waller wanted to spy on them, she'd get a team to stalk every type of social media. Would be a no-brainer, really.
"What I want is information," she added.
Bruce laughed at that, and even Alfred chuckled softly, drawing attention to himself for the first time since he'd entered the room half an hour ago.
"Right," Bruce shook his head, and Waller pointedly avoided looking at Diana who was watching her impassively, waiting for her to open her cards. "Information. Why would I want to share anything?"
Waller leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped together before her. "Because I can share back. Believe me, it's something you might appreciate at some point. If memory serves me right, our partnership proved being rather useful in the past."
"It was a one-time deal," Bruce reminded her.
He had refused an offered seat, choosing to keep standing, and while to him it might have looked like having some advantage in this conversation, Waller couldn't help thinking of him as a petulant child who would rather remain inconvenienced out of spite.
"It doesn't have to be," she said simply.
Despite the present audience, she knew that essentially, this was between the two of them.
She also knew that she had him then. Maybe not completely but his resolve was crumbling before her eyes, and she loved every moment of it. She knew that he came here solely for the sake of rubbing how much they didn't need her in Waller's face, and however this meeting was going to end, this flicker of indecisiveness of his face was worthy of her time, that much she was certain of.
"So let me get this straight," Bruce started again, "you found someone else with… special abilities, and you want them to work with us so they could pass the inside information to you? Am I getting this right?"
"Not at all. He will be working with you like Mr. Allen here," her gaze darted towards Barry. "And the information will be coming from you, Mr. Wayne. This is between you and me, and no one else." Still, she gave the other three a pointed look as if to say that they were not meant to be a part of this negotiation in the first place.
"What's the catch then?" Bruce inquired, not quite willing to swallow the bait yet.
"There is no catch. You need help. I am willing to provide the best person who can offer it."
"Why? His morals are too high for your bunch of petty criminals?"
"No one is perfect," Waller responded flatly and offered him a small shrug. "Sometimes they come with principles."
Not to mention that there was no bunch anymore, just an array of people locked away for the sake of their own and everyone else's safety, she thought grimly.
"We don't need help," Diana shook her head, speaking for the first time.
Waller fixed her eyes on her, not quite certain if she meant it as that they didn't need help or that they didn't want it from her. Not that she cared. "Yes, you do, and you know it. Otherwise, none of you would've spent months looking for it. You're stronger than most but you're not invincible. None of you are. And certainly not the people you care about. Not all of them, at least." She paused for emphasis. "Therefore, you're hardly in a position to turn down any sort of assistance. You, of all people, should understand that, Ms. Prince."
"Me, of all people?" Diana echoed, an eyebrow raised. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Waller levered her with an even look. "I would assume you know more than most about what can come next. Demons, aliens. Take your pick. Besides, you can't swing your sword and keep an eye on traffic updates at the same time."
"Why?" Bruce asked, unimpressed.
Waller turned to him. "Because saving lives and multi-tasking don't mesh."
"No. If this guy is so good, why would you want to… give him up?"
"Because I have no use for him. Because, as per our agreement, I'm not working with metahumans anymore. And because I'm nice like that." She paused, watching his jaw twitch a little. "And you could benefit greatly from his expertise, trust me."
"Trust you?" He echoed, and Barry had to cover his chuckle with a cough.
Waller's lips curved into a humorless smile that didn't touch her eyes. "We haven't always been on the same page, but have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, Mr. Wayne?"
"There's always the first time for everything," Bruce scoffed. "We don't need anyone," he repeated, his eyes darting toward Alfred. "I think we're good for now, as far as traffic updates are concerned."
Waller cocked her head. "And how willing are you to risk the life of the man who raised you after your parents died the next time the sky opens up and spits out something nasty? That, and how foolish are you to think that you can do it alone? This city is bigger than you think. And the world is even bigger than that." She picked a folder from the chair next to hers and put it on the desk, pushing it toward Bruce. "An ex-military, doesn't like following the orders but has an enviable moral compass. You'll probably have a thing or two in common. Unless you have other leads, of course. Or maybe someone else you would like to bring back from the dead."
Bruce's jaw clenched, and this time she knew that this was it. Everyone else did, too. He didn't move, his gaze only briefly landing on the offered dossier. The eyes of both Alfred and Barry were on him now, and Diana shifted from foot to foot, never looking away from Waller who continued to watch the man standing before her, knowing that she'd found the perfect way to corner him into a situation from which there was no way out.
Well, he could walk away, of course. But what a stupid thing that would be to do.
"And why would he want to be involved, that guy of yours?" He asked.
Waller shrugged. "Everyone needs a hobby. He doesn't have one at the moment."
Bruce gaped at her, and Diana Prince looked away, suddenly disinterested. "Are you seriously trying to sell me on the idea of putting our lives in the hands of someone who needs a hobby? You're kidding me right?"
"Isn't that how we all got here?" Barry scoffed.
Waller raised a curious eyebrow at him. "What was that, Mr. Allen?"
He buried his nose in his phone again. "Nothing. A cat meme."
She nodded and turned to Bruce again. "No, I'm asking you to consider employing someone who has experience in espionage, not just stocks market, fishing, and…" her eyes darted toward Diana, "antiques."
"And competitive dancing," Barry piped up.
Bruce shot him a warning look. Waller ignored his comment entirely. Alfred still hadn't uttered a word, and if she had to guess, he was trying to weigh the pros and cons of her offer in his mind, quite possibly both hurt by the implication of someone else being involved in what had always been his domain, and relieved, she could imagine.
"Didn't you just say that he wasn't a spy?" Diana inquired.
"I said he wasn't going to be spying on you," Waller corrected her.
"All of this because you want information from us?" Bruce asked again, eyeing her skeptically.
"I want us both to stop pretending that the other one doesn't exist. We're not helping anyone by doing that." He all but scoffed, but she continued, "We're not doing anyone any favours by staying on the opposite sides in this battle."
He rubbed his chin, his gaze heavy now that he couldn't simply walk out the door the way she was certain he was planning to from the start. In his mind, she was sure, this was all meant to be a show, but look how tables had turned.
They stared at one another for a long moment, and Waller thought that if he could incinerate her with his gaze, there'd be nothing but a pile of ashes left of her.
"Okay then," Bruce let out a frustrated sigh in the end, "I supposed we should meet him first. Does he have a phone?"
"I'm glad we're on the same page after all." Waller nodded curtly and pressed a button on the intercom. "He can come in," she said when her assistant on the other end responded, trying to ignore the satisfaction of seeing a shadow of surprise pass over Bruce Wayne's features. He probably assumed that they might need to track him down, their previous arrangement considered.
Oh, how much she loved defying expectations.
Not a few seconds later, the heavy door opened and a man in his late 30's walked in.
His glanced at Alfred and Barry without any particular interest, recognition sparkling alive in his gaze when it landed briefly on Waller. His eyes lingered for just a second longer than necessary on Bruce before fixing on Diana. He froze, all colour draining from his face.
Unperturbed, Waller stood up from her chair and turned to Bruce.
"Allow me to introduce Captain Steve Trevor."
xoox
She had to have known, Steve was thinking now. Amanda Waller had to have planned this from the start, and shockingly, this was the only thought that managed to anchor itself in his mind while the rest of them, half-formed and torn apart, were nothing but a tornado in his head. There were very few instances in his life that felt like a metaphorical sucker-punch, leaving him breathless and gasping for air, but seeing Diana stand before him now, 60-something years later and not aged a day was more than that. It made him feel momentarily like he'd fallen into some kind of black hole that turned his reality inside out.
The time stopped - there was no other way to explain a million and a half emotions what swept through him in under one second, nearly knocking Steve off balance when their eyes met. Impossible. She was like an apparition, almost unreal, her gaze shocked and disbelieving, neither of them daring to so much as blink for fear of having the other one disappear. This was the last thing Steve expected to ever have to deal with, the last place he'd ever imagined himself to end up in. All the pain, all the aching that had reduced over the years to a dull throbbing, everything he'd learned to ignore came rushing back in.
Thin jacket, practical black pants, her hair pulled into a ponytail – Diana was looking at him like he was a ghost, and Steve knew that his own expression mirrored hers. This room, the whole world fell back as his heart climbed up all the way to the Olympic jumping tower, thirty feet above the water, took a run, pushed away from the springboard, and leaped forward and down, plummeting into his stomach where it continued to flutter frantically, successfully pushing anything and everything else out of his mind.
His breath shortened, and he wondered absently if the rest of Waller's visitors could hear it, too, deciding that he didn't give a damn about it in the end. In that moment, he cared for nothing except taking her in, after all this time, so different and yet achingly familiar. Unchanged. Here. So very real it hurt to think about it.
Diana's lips parted as if she wanted to say something, ask something, but no words came out. Just silence, and the pounding of his heart, deafeningly loud.
In the years that had passed since Steve last saw her, he'd imagined this moment thousands of times, playing out in thousands of different ways. Couldn't stop thinking of some providence bringing them together again, knowing that he would never be able to walk away once more. And yet none of those scenarios ever made him feel like the ground was being kicked from underneath him. In his daydreams, Diana never looked at him the way she was looking at him now – with a mixture of doubt and denial. Like she wished that there was someone else standing in his place.
Steve swallowed and forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, fearful of keeling over if he didn't.
Beside her was a man who he recognized instantly – Bruce Wayne. There wasn't a rat in Gotham who didn't know him, although, admittedly, he wasn't quite as identifiable when his mouth was latched onto Diana's a few nights ago. He straightened his back when Steve walked in, squared his shoulders as if to seem taller than he was, and there was something possessive in the way that he nearly stepped in front of her – something that almost made Steve laugh out loud because if there was anyone among the present company who least required any protection, it was her. The proprietary gesture rubbed him the wrong way nonetheless.
Then a wave of white-hot anger washed over him, nearly making him see red.
Waller knew. She did this on purpose, and Steve couldn't believe she'd played him so effortlessly; couldn't believe how easily he walked into this trap, frustration rising inside him, threatening to spill over the rim.
He took a steadying breath, acutely aware of the five pairs of eyes glued to him, and slowly unclenched his hands that curled into fists on the will of their own. With effort, he dragged his gaze away from Bruce Wayne who was glaring daggers at him – be it for Steve's name or his face but there was an odd air of familiarity around them - and turned to Waller.
"No," was all he could say after a brief round of introductions that barely registered with him.
Diana looked at Waller too, arms crossed over her chest. Defiant.
"I'm not working with him," she said firmly.
Steve's jaw dropped. He gaped at her, not sure for a moment that this was really happening. "You are not working with me?" And then he turned to Waller as well, "I'm not working with her."
"And I want to know how this movie ends," Barry muttered, and smacked Alfred on the shoulder with the back of his hand, "You got popcorn?"
"Is there a problem?" Waller asked, one eyebrow arched. One had to admire her ability not to give a shit. If it wasn't for the slight tension in her shoulders, Steve would have thought that she was bored by the entire affair.
"We don't need anyone else, we're good as we are," Diana responded, her voice uncompromising, and something akin smug satisfaction flashed over Bruce Wayne's features, making Steve's hackles stand on end.
"Really? Because a minute ago it was your idea to make proper introduction," Waller reminded her.
Diana's lips pursed into a stubborn line, and if Steve wasn't awfully busy trying to find a way out of this mess, he'd definitely take note of the thin ice that Waller was standing on, by the looks of it.
Steve shook his head. "You'll have to find someone else," he said impassively, managing to swallow that quiver that snuck its way into his voice.
Waller looked at him. "We had a deal, Captain, had we not?" She asked very calmly and very coldly.
They had, and he was starting to regret it, quite desperately so.
And suddenly, there was a sense of camaraderie in the room – as if everyone realized in that moment how much they despised the position they found themselves in. As if Waller actually had them all in her fist despite everyone trying to pretend that this was not the case at all. Maybe this was why Bruce Wayne looked so damn pissed, and why Diana hadn't stormed out of the room yet, taking the massive door with her like it was nothing, although he'd be a bloody bad spy if he hadn't spotted a flicker of panic in Waller's eyes, something that she probably wasn't aware of herself, and it got him wondering…
"I don't even know what you want from me," he said flatly after a few long moments, when the silence grew sufficiently uncomfortable and rather unbearable.
Waller's lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. "I'm glad you asked." He tried to ignore the finality in her tone. Like she knew that he was trapped, which, perhaps, he was. "Mr. Wayne and his friends here believe in helping people in desperate situations. If I'm not mistaken, this is something you have an impressive expertise in, don't you? They could benefit greatly from it, I'm sure."
Steve held her gaze, too tired all of a sudden to keep carrying on with this charade. Amanda Waller was hardly the scariest person he'd ever met. Frankly, Adolf Hitler still held the top spot. And just about any telemarketer who happened to stumble upon his number. And Steve was pretty damn sick of dancing to her tune.
"You have the wrong guy," he repeated.
"We're not interested in forcing any of this on anyone against their will," Diana added, quite pointedly keeping her eyes on Waller. On anyone but hi, for that matter. He wasn't sure if he was insulted or relieved by that, mostly for fear of combusting under her gaze if she'd so much as glanced his way again.
"There you go," Steve muttered under his breath.
"That's true, I practically volunteered," Barry piped in, his eyes darting between Steve, Diana, and Waller like he was watching an elaborate ping-pong match.
Before anyone could say anything else, an older man who Steve mistook for Waller's chauffeur, raised his hand like he was in a classroom, and Waller nodded, diligent teacher that she was.
"Perhaps, a probation?" Alfred Pennyworth, as Waller introduced him earlier, suggested earning a searing glare from Bruce Wayne which he promptly ignored, completely unfazed, making Steve like him instantly. Well, more than the rest of them, at that.
Diana's phone chimed just as Bruce opened his mouth to object, and she pulled it out of the back pocket of her jeans, manners be damned. This was too surreal for this to matter.
Steve? THE Steve?!
A text from Lois.
Her pulse stuttered.
She glanced at Barry who openly was gawking at… was it really him?
Steve.
The name resonated in the pit of her soul with a dull ache that she'd spent years – decades – learning to live with.
Her stomach had folded in on itself the second she saw him, her lungs crumpling inside her ribcage, rendering the simple act of breathing nearly impossible. Her chest felt hollow and caved-in, and she could barely look away from him, his black jacket and dark jeans, so different from the way she remembered him, but his eyes were the same – the impossible blue that reminded Diana of the waters around Themyscira, and the curve of his mouth was so familiar it was almost painful, his voice washing over her, the sound of it more important than the words that he was saying.
How was this possible?
She'd had this dream before, more times than she could count, except it always ended differently – his gaze was warm, not guarded, his embrace welcoming, and she couldn't stop kissing him as something all-consuming blossomed and unfolded inside her. Something that must have been happiness. In her dreams, Steve always came back to her and stayed. He would kiss her back, and she would wake up with tears in her eyes because the reality was heavy and unbearable.
This was nothing like it. Aside from the initial shock that she knew was impossible to feign, not to that degree, however good an actor one was, when they both seemed unable to stop staring at one another, Steve hadn't looked at her once, his gaze somehow sliding past Bruce and Amanda Waller, barely registering the presence of Barry and Alfred, and she was this close to waking out of here because she couldn't…
Her phone chimed again.
Is it really him?
Lois.
It had to be Barry, Diana thought absently. Except he didn't know Lois… but he knew Clark. She reminded herself to kill 'the fastest man alive' later.
The very air in the room was starting to feel like there was not enough oxygen, the electrified tension hanging between them almost palpable. Like the sparks were about to start flying.
And then Alfred's voice cut through it, his words feeling like the nails sealing her coffin shut.
A probation?
This was not an office manager job, for heaven's sake.
Diana opened her mouth to protest – because there was no way on earth this could work. There had to be a way to make this sound logical without bringing up her past because this was supposed to be a gesture of goodwill, and Waller had no power over them to force another person on them no matter the reasons, when Bruce spoke again.
"Does this have anything to do with ARGUS?" He asked, and Diana frowned.
Waller's lips quirked for a second. "We're working toward it," she responded vaguely.
For a long moment, they simply looked at one another, and then he turned to Alfred and Barry who, in turn, were waiting expectantly for further instructions before glancing at Diana, but there was nothing that she could offer him. Bruce knew who Steve was, he saw the photo, and even though they'd never discussed it, although not for his lack of trying, she knew for a fact that he'd done his homework, and the striking resemblance plus the same name… He wasn't stupid.
And all the while, Steve simply stood there, motionless as a statue. So still she didn't think he was even breathing, his eyes on Agent Waller, his brows furrowed.
In that moment, she wanted so bad to climb into his head and see what he was thinking. If only because it would probably stop the flow of her own thoughts that felt like a tidal wave that threatened to pull her to the bottom of the ocean.
She prayed for him to walk away, and begged all gods to let him stay, uncertain as to why when he clearly didn't want to have anything to do with them.
"That, and I can share, too," Waller added, seeing Bruce's hesitation. His eyes narrowed slightly. "A beneficial agreement all over."
"This is not a good idea," Steve said, breaking the silence just as Bruce spoke:
"It's a deal then."
They looked at each other, and Diana could feel Alfred roll his eyes.
This was not going to end well.
"You can't just agree to that," she objected, making the men turn to her. "It must be a team decision."
"Oh, democracy!" Barry perked up. "Who is for bringing this guy to our club?" He jerked his thumb toward Steve and raised his hand.
After a moment of hesitation, Alfred did the same. Bruce huffed through his nose in disgust but nodded, too.
Diana turned away, her hands flexing on her elbows in what she hoped resembled a confrontational stance rather than an attempt not to fall apart, as if holding herself in one piece required a physical effort on her part.
"Well, in that case-" Waller started.
"Wait, it has to be all-inclusive," Barry interjected, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone as his fingers flew over it with inhuman speed, typing away with abandon. A few seconds later, it beeped. Barry grinned. "Vic doesn't care, so that's a yes." He glanced up at no one in particular, his gaze merely swiping over the room. "And Arthur asks if we can have KFC for dinner." He scrunched his nose. "D'you guys know if there's a joint somewhere nearby?"
"Are we done here?" Waller sighed with exasperation she didn't try to conceal.
"Apologies," Barry muttered.
"Well, that's two against five," Steve spoke when they fell silent.
He squared his shoulders against Waller's glare, unwavering.
"No, no, Arthur is in," Barry explained quickly. "He's just hungry."
"I didn't mean… whoever Arthur is," Steve shook his head, feeling all five pairs of eyes on him, seemingly trying to burn a hole right through him.
Barry scrunched his face, confused. "Then who else is against?"
"Me," Steve said, peering at Waller without much pleasure. "Can we have a word?"
She gestured to him to carry on.
"In private," Steve added, as if it wasn't obvious enough, his voice brimming with impatience. Why she needed this show was beyond his comprehension, but he was sick of it.
"I think we've already discussed everything there was to discuss," she countered.
"In this case, I'm out."
"In this case, our agreement is off," Waller shrugged. "You know where the door is, Captain Trevor."
Steve gritted his teeth but didn't move, drowning in helpless fury.
"I think that's a yes, too," Barry nudged Alfred with his elbow after a few moments, and then looked up, "Sorry, Di."
"Do whatever you want," Diana muttered before turning on her heel and walking out of the conference room without so much as a goodbye, leaving them all in stunned silence.
xoox
If someone asked Steve to explain how exactly he ended up in this mess, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it, no matter how hard he tried to trace it back to the damned day when he'd made a fatal mistake of picking up the call from a blocked number.
Amanda Waller knew how to convince people to do as she said, he had to give her that. A useful trait in her line of work. It wasn't her methods, however, that had stirred unease in Steve but the fact that she knew things about him. Things that no one else was meant to know anymore, and the conversation left him equally curious and perturbed, if only because his past was supposed to be long buried by then.
Curious enough to get him to come to this godforsaken city for a face-to-face talk.
She made an offer to him – to erase all information about him that still existed in the world in exchange for a favour, as she'd phrased it. He didn't like it, but he'd come this far and it felt foolish to back away now.
Had Steve known what that deal was about, that he'd be nothing but a pawn in her elaborate game for power with Bruce Wayne, he'd burn his phone, change his name again, and disappear somewhere where no one would know to look for him until Amanda Waller stopped being an issue. The funny thing about not dying – yet – was that he became rather patient when it came to waiting for the others to leave this world, should the need arise. He was intrigued, though, and desperate to finally be in full control of his life.
To say that the details of this arrangement caught him by surprise would be an understatement of the century, and Steve had been alive long enough to be a good judge of that.
What it was that Amanda Waller and the rest of – what did she call them? Justice League? - were getting out of it, he wasn't sure, and quite frankly, didn't really care. It was no brainer to put two and two together, though – a week around here gave him a good idea of what Bruce Wayne was when he wasn't wearing tailored suits and signing multi-million deals, which explained his alliance with Diana. However, joining their little club was not Steve's idea of fun. To be completely honest, he could think of a thousand other things he'd rather do with his time, as far away from this place as possible.
What he wanted more than anything was for this to be over.
And yet here he was, in the back of an expensive car, colourfully cursing Amanda Waller in his mind. He needed her, and she knew it, and Steve resented her for it, and himself for giving in.
His phone pinged softly with a new message, and he knew instantly what it was – the files on everyone in the League, as Waller promised before Steve was whisked away by the overly-enthusiastic Barry Allen. Had he known from the beginning where this all would end, he's start running in a different direction immediately, Waller's offer be damned. After all, the concerns of the government had long stopped being of interest to him. He could still do it, Steve told himself. It would complicate some things again, but he could live with that. Surely, between that, and having to work side by side with Diana and her new… what were they called, he wondered. Romantic partners? Lovers?
The thought was nauseating, so much so that he almost asked Alfred to stop the car so that he wouldn't have to throw up on this expensive upholstery. Bruce Wayne wouldn't appreciate that. It could also work as a great exit strategy, Steve thought grimly. Drop dead on the side of the road somewhere to avoid moving any further.
"You okay, man?" Barry asked him. "You look kinda pale."
Sitting in the passenger seat, he had spent a chunk of their ride either texting or chatting a mile a minute, barely giving Alfred a chance to hum in response as the tune that Steve couldn't recognize was spilling from the speakers. Come to think of it, he couldn't quite remember how he ended up here in the first place. By the time Waller handed him over to the League, Diana was long gone, and Bruce Wayne disappeared shortly afterwards (and Steve was working hard on trying not to imagine her waiting for him in the garage or something).
But now Barry was hanging between the front seats, looking quizzically at him, his eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for some reaction.
"Yeah…" Steve cleared his throat and straightened up in the slippery leathery seat, somewhat aware of the fact that it wasn't an answer but unable to come up with anything else. "Barry, right?"
The kid grinned. "Sure thing, and this is Alfred," he patted the older man on the shoulder, not without affection. "Bruce's babysitter."
"Mr. Allen…" Alfred started with a warning in his voice.
"Sorry. Butler." With that, Barry turned to Alfred. "I didn't know anyone still used that word." And added, "Anyone not living in the 17th century, that is."
"Would you like me to stop the car so you could walk the rest of the way?" Alfred asked flatly.
Steve glanced out the window behind which the outskirts of Gotham were nothing but a sea of grey, blurring before his eyes as the rain fell on them, angry and fierce. They did stop for food, too; the bag now sitting on the seat next to him was filling the car with the smell of French fries and chicken – something Steve could definitely do without, if he was honest with himself.
"Where are we going, exactly?" He asked, cutting into the banter happening in the front.
"Batca-" Barry started and cut off when Alfred shot him a look. "Bruce's," he corrected himself.
Right. The briefing, Steve recalled. Proper introductions. He just thought it would take place in Wayne's office or something of that kind. Not his house.
"So, what's the story?" Barry prodded again, and Steve got a distinct suspicion that the guy was about to get strangled with the seatbelt, sitting the way he was.
"What story?"
"With you and Diana?"
The mention of her made everything inside Steve coil into a knot, the memories giving leaving him with a vertigo strong enough to make him feel like the whole world was spiraling away from him.
Diana…
This was going to be interesting.
"Why would you think there is one?" He asked with pointed nonchalance, mindful of keeping his voice as even as possible.
"Because you should've seen the look on your faces," Barry snorted.
Alfred caught his gaze in the rear-view mirror, half-curious and half-amused, and if a little bewildered, too. "Because Miss Prince is the reasonable one. It is usually Master Wayne who indulges in storming out and slamming the doors," he explained with a small smirk.
Ignoring Barry's unabashed anticipation for details, Steve shook his head and turned away, choosing to study the unimpressive landscape outside.
"There's no story," he muttered, not really caring if they heard him.
Not anymore.
xoox
Can't be, can't be, can't be…
Diana twisted the steering wheel, her car swerving sharply and earning a handful of angry honks that faded as another vehicle wheezed past her, disappearing in the late-afternoon traffic. She hit the brakes, bringing the silver Volvo to an abrupt stop at the curb somewhere in Chinatown, spooking a flock of pigeons pecking at something near the newspaper stand on the sidewalk, not knowing how she ended up here and not certain where she was going in the first place.
Away.
Away from that windowless room.
From Amanda Waller with her cold, measured voice that sounded like she was incapable of any human emotion.
From Steve.
Diana's hands were shaking when she peeled them off the steering wheel, her heartbeat rapid and frantic, the sense of ever-present composure that she'd mastered long before she even came to this world nowhere to be found.
Outside, a steady stream of passers-by was flowing past her car – well, Bruce's car, the one she'd borrowed this morning because she had somewhere else to be before he called her, asking her to join him for the meeting with Waller. They were giving her funny looks, undoubtedly curious about the smell of burnt rubber and skid-marks left by expensive tires on cracked and patched asphalt.
And inside her, a storm the likes of which she couldn't remember raged with such a force and ferocity that she could barely breathe.
Diana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the image of Steve out of her mind - his confusion and shock, disbelief flickering across his features, his palpable denial – but it only made it worse. The blue of his eyes that haunted her for over half a century was all she could see.
It had been so long that she almost forgot how much it hurt to think of him, like something was slicing her open from the inside. It took her years to learn to breathe without him, for her stomach to stop dropping whenever she'd see the same haircut or an army jacket on someone else, for her heart to stop fluttering in hope and anticipation. Until it drained her. Until she was no longer reaching for his side of the bed in the night or waiting to see his face upon waking up in the morning. Until she found it in her to move on and start healing as best she could, and the pain had finally ebbed.
And then Lex Luthor and the photo re-emerged, knocking the ground from beneath her feet. She'd spent decades looking for it, unsettled by the idea of someone else being in possession of something this personal to her. She thought it would bring her solace.
Yet, when it finally happened, when her efforts had finally paid off, Diana was once again faced with the simple truth – pretending that her past was dead and buried was one thing, but it didn't change the fact that there were things in everyone's life that couldn't be forgotten or overcome. Steve Trevor was that for her, and not several decades and half a dozen lovers could erase what they used to have.
Today proved that, if nothing else.
And if she were honest with herself, she wouldn't want to erase it either, the memories of their time together bittersweet, but cherished deeply nonetheless. However, what she wanted to do now was to go back to that moment when her phone started to ring this morning, Bruce's caller ID flashing on the screen, and ignore it, let it go to voicemail and then erase it without listening to it even though she knew she'd never do that. Not when the world was teetering on a brink of falling into the void more often than not, her armour and sword always within arm's reach.
Wherever Waller found Steve and whatever her game was was another story, and probably something she'd have to think about at some point. However, for now, she was fighting the urge to catch the first flight to Paris and go back to her life, to the semblance of what passed for normalcy these days.
Diana sighed when her phone came to life once more. Lois again, she thought, allowing it to keep ringing. Or Barry. Or maybe even Bruce – she was half-heartedly avoiding him since the gala night, not knowing how drunk he'd been then and not certain if she wanted to find out. Either way, it could wait for a little while longer. She also made a mental note to get Clark to find a hobby instead of mulling over the gossip. And Barry was in so much trouble for starting it.
She thought of Steve's watch, tucked away in a nightstand drawer in her room in Bruce's house, the very same one that his father gave to him over a century ago and that he somehow left behind in his hurry when he left her.
Still ticking.
xoox
"Who's that?"
A man with a wild mane of hair and the eyes so pale that Steve could have sworn they were translucent yanked the front door open before Alfred had a chance to so much as find the key, a loose shirt hanging from his massive frame that filled the whole doorway. He gave Steve a blunt once-over, his eyebrows arched quizzically.
"Fresh meat." Barry squeezed between Steve and Alfred and pushed the KFC bag into the giant's chest. "Here's your food, Arthur."
"Finally," the man muttered, grabbing it and turning to follow Barry inside, seemingly no longer interested in Steve now that he attention was focused elsewhere and not at all bothered by the appearance of a stranger on his doorstep.
Bruce Wayne sure kept one colourful company around.
"Sorry, they didn't have fish fingers," Barry added, earning a heartfelt chuckle in response, their voices fading as they walked away. An inside joke, by the sound of it.
"'Course they didn't, you genius. That's the whole point."
Steve didn't hear anything after that.
That was the mysterious Arthur then, he thought as Alfred gestured for him to come in and he stepped into the wide hallway, and when the door closed behind them, it was like it cut the four of them from the rest of the world, the sound of the lock clicking into place oddly final.
There was no briefing, per se.
Instead, Steve spend most of the afternoon eating cold French fries and reading their files – as much as Waller could acquire, and he wondered what exactly was missing as there always was something – on a borrowed laptop while trying, with little success, to wrap his mind around certain facts. Like maybe that the chatty kid he had shared the car with not a few hours ago could run faster than the time itself. Or that the sullen man who he'd met earlier, and who was currently watching TV in the empty living room was, well, a cyborg. A result of an experiment gone wrong, and Steve felt chill in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the people who went through that, and worse, in the times of the war.
It was interesting how some things never changed, it seemed.
The time was supposed to dull his memories, make them fade around the edges, but some of them, he figured, were impossible to forget. That, and maybe they were not meant to be forgotten.
By the time Steve reached Arthur Curry's file, it was dark and his head was on the verge of exploding. He purposely didn't touch Diana's info, and only briefly skimmed over Bruce Wayne's credentials that listed primarily the mundane milestones – the date of death of his parents, the years when he graduated from school, then university, then another one, and such.
At least the man couldn't set things on fire with his brain or teleport or do something else super-human. It appeared that being able to fund this vigilante business was his main shtick, and for some reason, it made Steve feel better about this whole situation. Not because he necessarily wanted Bruce Wayne to be lesser than most (even thought there was that, too, he was not going to lie to himself) but because he found the idea of not being the only one without any inhuman skills around here rather comforting. Well, there was Alfred too, but he wasn't exactly expected to jump from skyscraper to skyscraper, apparently.
Which led Steve once again to the question of his involvement with any of this. They had nothing to gain from him, nothing they couldn't get from someone else. Perhaps someone who wanted to be here.
When he brought that issue up with Waller the first time they met, the first time he had asked her about the nature of her request, her response was vague at best, something about his skills and experience. It made little sense then, and even less now. If she thought that his past connection to Diana was going to give him some kind of upper hand – well, he had some seriously bad news for her.
He refused to think of how this all fit into Diana's life. If she was happy – well, he was happy, too. After all, her happiness was the whole point of letting her have the life she wanted and deserved. He was hardy in a position to have an opinion, let alone to express it, anymore.
Earlier, Alfred allowed him to set his small camp in the study and even supplied him with a teapot and bottled water, and while Steve appreciated the space, when the grey day turned into a gloomy evening, he couldn't help but feel trapped in this dark room with its paneled walls and heavy drapes on the floor-to-ceiling windows brushing the floor. The rain had stopped, or at least reduced to a soundless drizzle, and the clouds were hanging low and ominous over the lake stretching before him on the other side of thick glass as the emotional fatigue had finally caught up with him.
Steve closed the laptop and heaved a weary sigh. His body ached from not moving for too long and his eyes felt raw from staring at the screen. He squeezed them shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to push away the mother of all headaches that started to build in his skull, the whole day feeling so surreal he was half-certain he was going to wake up any moment now and leave the madness of the past several hours behind.
It was time to get out of here.
"Captain Trevor?"
The voice made him snap his head up in alarm only to find Alfred standing in the doorway, watching him expectantly, and Steve wondered how long was lost in his mind.
"Oh, hey." He ran a hand over his hair and uncurled from the chair, barely resisting the urge to stretch and get the kinks out of his stiff body. "I, um… I think I'm about done."
For today, at least.
Alfred nodded. "Would you like more tea? Maybe something to eat?"
A drink, Steve thought, but swallowed that response. Stiff one. And a sedative.
He picked his phone from the desk and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans, shaking his head. "Thank you, but I think I better get going back to…" he trailed off, the thought of a dingy hotel where he was staying during this past week, with its tiny room and never-ending buzz of voices from other suites and the narrow street that morphed into white noise after the first two nights simultaneously dreadful and, well, rather exciting, actually. Never did he think he'd feel that way about that hole of a place, but idea of getting away from this house, these people, Diana, was so overwhelming he nearly ran out the door, fearing that he would suffocate in these glass walls. He cleared his throat. "Any chance I could get a cab here?"
Alfred blinked, confused. "A cab? Haven't Agent Waller told you about the arrangement?"
An arrangement…
Steve's inner alarms went off, resonating in the pit of his stomach. "What kind of arrangement?" He asked warily, his mind vividly supplying him with a mental image of a stone cell in the basement – old habits die hard.
Alfred glanced over his shoulder to where someone laughed loudly, breaking the ever-present stillness of this place, and then turned to Steve again. "Agent Waller and Master Wane agreed that it would be better if you stayed here. So you could get to know everyone, you see. And perhaps for your convenience as well. I believe the hotels of Gotham leave a lot to be desired, even the best of them." He paused to let the information sink in as Steve stared at him. "Your belongings have already been delivered. I'd be happy to show you to your room whenever you're ready."
Steve heard the words, recognized them, but the combination of them made no sense to him whatsoever. He gaped at Alfred as if the other man had suddenly grown a second head and was now speaking a language he couldn't understand.
And the only coherent thought running through his head was, You have got to be fucking kidding me.
xoox
London, 1919
"What about birthdays?" Steve asked, his hand trailing lazy patterns on Diana's bare back, the tenderness of his touch making her heart ache.
Sprawled across the bed on her stomach, she allowed her eyes to drift shut, marvelling in the sensation of his closeness and the warmth of his body stretched out next to her, blissful and sated. Somewhere across town, there was a table at the restaurant that he booked earlier this week that they never made it to, distracted by each and somehow managing to turn 'dressing up' into 'undressing', their clothes now strewn across the floor of the small bedroom bathed in moonlight streaming through the window that was taking up almost the whole width of the wall.
They would get hungry soon, Diana thought absently, however the realization was short-lived. This was new still, and wonderful in every way, the closeness, the beauty of being given a second chance. The war was behind them at last, even though its shadow still hovered nearby, and Steve had healed, but she knew better than to take this blessing for granted. Every day, Diana gave thanks to the gods for bringing him back to her, for this consuming, impossible happiness that made her heart feel so full she feared it might burst in her chest.
Her lips curved into a lazy smile, "What about them?"
Steve propped up on his elbow and brushed her hair away from her neck. His mouth trailed slowly over her skin, and she had to remind herself to breathe. "Well… when is yours?"
Diana hesitated. "Our calendar is different…" she murmured, and added after making a mental calculation, "That will be April 7 for you."
"April 7," he echoed. "I'll remember that."
"Birthdays were acknowledged, but seldom celebrated," she explained. "Being born wasn't considered a personal achievement."
"I beg to differ," Steve whispered, planting another kiss to her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her skin; his lips brushed to the nape of her neck, the pleasant warmth spreading over her body at his touch. "I might have to show you how we do things here."
Diana giggled. "Haven't you already?"
The things that people did when there were no wars to fight proved being worthy of every battle she could ever imagine. Having this, with him, was worth fighting them all, a thousand times over.
He laughed softly, the sound of it reverberating through her, and Diana rolled on her side to face him, her smile growing wider at the sight of his rumpled hair and his crooked grin, his eyes crinkling as he beamed down at her, comically proud of himself, although not without reason. She knew what it was like to be loved, the concept of physical intimacy not new to her. But it was never like this, never with someone who was willing to give all of them to her without asking for anything in return. Which only made her want to give all of her back.
No wonder the parts of her body she didn't even know existed were aching quite pleasantly now.
"Did you ever want to leave?" Steve asked after a few long moments, watching her in the dark. His face turned serious, a frown lodging itself between his brows. "Your home, I mean."
"I had to," Diana reminded him as she tucked her hand under her cheek, studying his features, the way his face was lined with shadows.
"Yes, I know, but… did you ever want to?" He pressed, smoothing down her hair.
Did she?
This was not something she pondered often, if ever, the world beyond Themyscira as alien to her as she was to it. It wasn't that she never wanted to leave but that she never needed to.
"I was raised to believe that the island was where I belonged," she responded. "Why did you ask?"
Steve pressed his lips together and let out a small sigh, "I feel responsible, I guess… for making you do it."
Her features softened. "You didn't. It was my decision to make, not yours, Steve."
"Yeah, I know. I know, but…"
She pushed up on her elbow until his eyes were all she could see, striking blue even in near complete darkness, and never failing to take her breath away. Her palm curled over his jaw and she brushed her lips to his, a feather-light touch that still left both of them short of breath. "There's nowhere I'd rather be," she promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. The truest words ever spoken.
"You know, this is the fourth dinner reservation that we let go to waste," he murmured with a small chuckle as Diana bumped her nose against his playfully, the tension leaving him, chased away by her reassurance.
"We were otherwise engaged, no?" She noted, grinning, her head tilted to her shoulder, and he laughed, the sound lighting her up from the inside.
"This is also something that usually goes differently," Steve muttered, shaking his head not without amusement.
"Differently how?" She asked, her hand playing absently with his hair.
He considered her question, eyebrows furrowed contemplatively.
"Well, usually you meet a girl and take her out for a meal, and maybe a dance. Then you meet her parents, and get married and…" He trailed off, his fingers drifting along her side and toward her hip. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "As a rule, you don't take a girl to the war." He smirked. "With us… I met your family first, and then I did take you to the war, which is the worst date idea ever, if you ask me." Diana smiled. It felt odd to speak of it with lightness, and his voice caught ever so slightly, but they would get there, she thought. Put the war behind them for good. "And then we danced," he continued. "And then we proved Clio wrong…"
"That we did," she agreed, her gaze holding his and making Steve lose the train of his thought.
He cleared his throat. "The dinners, however, keep remaining rather elusive. Why is that, I wonder?"
Diana hummed and leaned back to lay on the pillow. "Is there anything else we're doing wrong?" She murmured, tugging him to her.
"Mm-hm, I can think of a few things." Steve leaned to kiss her neck, shifting his weight over her. "How about I show you?"
xoox
Gotham, 2017
"Why did you do it?" Diana asked, arms folded over her chest and eyes shooting daggers at Bruce who either wasn't in the slightest perplexed by that, or was doing a damn fine job at making it seem so.
Or maybe it was the dim light of the reading lamp sitting on the desk in the study that kept their faces half-obscured, smoothing out the sharp edges of the feelings that neither wanted the other one to see. In the living room, or the hallway maybe, Barry and Vic were arguing softly over something or other, and she could hear outbursts of Arthur's laughter. There was comfort in those sounds, comfort in knowing that not everything in their lives was about the battles. And Bruce knew it too, his half-hearted complaints about the noise in the house masked the relief of not being on his own anymore.
Diana liked to remind him now and then that all of this was his idea, earning a scowl in response. He never denied it, though.
Her phone was burning with unanswered calls and ignored voicemails that she knew she wouldn't be able to put off dealing with for much longer. And she couldn't wait to retreat to her own room, shut the door and try to tune out every single thought that was starting to drive her mad. For years, she wondered what it would be like to have Steve back, and now he was but she had no idea how to process it.
She needed time.
Yet, this conversation was the matter of the utmost priority, something that wouldn't settled inside her until she knew.
Bruce shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, the face of his watch catching the light of the lamp and winking at her.
"Thought it would make you happy," he replied, cutting straight to the chase. She liked that about him, that there were no games – most of the time. That there was no need for unnecessary pretences. Again, most of the time.
He caught her gaze and held it, open and unapologetic.
As far as she could remember, he'd never made a secret out of being attracted to her and Diana had never made a secret out of not reciprocating the feeling, but ever since the gala, there was a new kind of wall between them, the unsaid words churning inside them, ready to spill over the rim and drown them both.
They were good partners in a battle, fighting for the right cause. She respected him as a warrior and a friend, and she didn't want to lose that, the understanding and kinship the likes of which she hadn't experienced for a very long time. But this was all she could give him, and to Bruce, she knew, it wasn't enough.
Soon, they would need to talk, before those words torn them apart.
Now, she also wished they had sorted it out before her past knocked them both off balance, although not surprised that the life wasn't as considerate as Diana wanted it to be.
"And why would it make me happy?" She asked, remembering the shakiness that filled her in Waller's office, as if Steve's presence was charging the air around them, making electric current jolt along her skin, the fine hairs on her arms standing on end.
Bruce's lips curved humorlessly. "Because you all but turned heaven and hell upside down looking for the photo," he responded, probably expecting her to deny it, to argue. She didn't. "Thought that having the original would be preferable," he added, stressing the 'original'. "Besides, Waller was right, you know it."
"When you said you wanted to find the others like me, you were talking about people with… abilities," she reminded him, cross at herself more than at him for feeling this frustrated.
"Last time I checked, Agent Waller was very diligent with her homework," he pointed out. "Ergo, I'm going to assume that he has something to him. Until proven otherwise, that is."
Diana shook her head. "He does not."
"And you know that how?" A pause. "It's be a while, after all."
"If she thinks that he does, she's mistaken," she insisted.
"This is what we're going to find out." He fell silent for a long moment, his gaze hard, unkind even. "I thought you'd jump at the opportunity to have your boyfriend on the team." No, not unkind. Hurt. "With all the fuss around breaking into Lex's personal files, you never mentioned anything about the trouble in paradise. Or that Steve Trevor was alive, for that matter."
She pursed her lips together, bristled momentarily by his attitude. "Is this some kind of a game to you, Bruce? A joke?"
He stepped toward her, forcing her to look up, what with less than a foot of space between them.
"I don't know. Is it?"
In another lifetime, Diana thought. In a different version of reality, perhaps… He was not a bad man. The only problem here was that he wasn't—
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned, taking an involuntary step back from Bruce even though the space between them was sufficient enough to not be considered intimate.
"Steve."
He was standing in the doorway, seemingly as surprised to find someone else here as they were to have been walked in on in the middle of the conversation.
For a long moment, the three of them simply stared at one another, waiting for someone to do something, anything. Bruce's hands were flexing ever so imperceptibly, Diana's gaze was locked on Steve, and Steve was making a mental note of the distance between them, which, in a room roughly the size of the last apartment he lived in seemed nonexistent.
If he felt like he didn't belong here before, like this wasn't his place to be, right now it became blatantly clear that this arrangement wasn't going to work. Not for either one of them. They didn't need him, and he certainly didn't need them, and Waller—he was going to figure out how to deal with her without dragging a century-worth of history to the surface.
"I'm sorry," Steve spoke first, breaking the eye contact with her, his gaze darting toward Bruce before he looked away altogether as if the bookshelves to the left from him were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Didn't think anyone was-"
"You didn't," Diana interjected.
Bruce took a step away from her and cleared his throat. "I was just leaving," he muttered and brushed past Diana, pausing briefly by Steve. "Welcome to the team, Captain. We need to catch up sometime soon."
Steve held his gaze, unwavering, and then said, "We do." He wanted quite desperately to find out what this man knew about him, and how he learned it.
With that, Bruce was gone, his footsteps echoing in the hallway, and Steve wished he'd never left his allocated room a few minutes ago, the USB drive he'd left here earlier and now came back to find be damned. He could feel Diana's presence, her eyes on him; could smell what he assumed was her floral perfume permeating his senses and wrapping around him like a cloud, his skin tingling from her proximity. He could probably do nothing but look at her and breathe her in for as long as he lived, and it would've been enough. More than enough.
"Hey," Diana breathed out, and on some selfish, stupid level, Steve was relieved to notice that she was about as uncomfortable with this situation as he was.
His mind went blank.
"I didn't know you'd be here," he said when the words came back.
She shrugged. "It's easier for all of us to stay here when we're in town. Bruce… he may not always be willing to admit it, but he appreciates the company."
Of course, he does, Steve thought, feeling his stomach coil into a knot. Of course, she'd be staying here. Where else? Jesus Christ, why didn't he think of that?
A wave of white-hot jealousy swept over him, blinding in its intensity. She wasn't his to claim, hadn't been for a very long time, he reminded himself. He had no right to feel this way, no right to have a bitter aftertaste in his mouth from swallowing his response, and yet one thing he knew for a fact – he was not going to stay here. Wouldn't be able to. If he did, sooner or later, he'd walk in on more than some sort of private conversation.
There were many ways to die, and sometimes, Steve felt like he was familiar with them all, but seeing Diana with another man was, by far, the worst one he could imagine. This was not worth it. If Waller wanted him, they'd have to make it work some other way.
He nodded, dragging his mind back to here and now. It was hard to imagine Bruce Wayne as a man running a shelter home for the lost souls, but there was more than altruism at play here so, to a certain degree, it made sense.
"So I've noticed."
Her lips quirked ever so slightly, curving into a faint smile that was gone before he was sure he even saw it. She leaned against the desk, hands gripping the smooth polished wood on either side of her hips. "And so are you, then?"
Her voice was steady. Even. A little curious. This was easy, and it was the easiness that Steve hated the most. The easiness they no longer had any right for.
"Only for tonight," he shook his head. "There was a mix-up, apparently." He sounded like a moron. "I'll sort it out with Waller tomorrow."
"Oh."
And maybe it was just him, and all the wishful thinking that Steve was trying to keep at bay, but for a flicker of a moment, she looked almost disappointed.
Not that she had any reason to be.
"Is it really you, Steve?" She asked softly, studying him in the dim light, her disbelief reflecting his own – over seeing her, as well as this farce of a situation in general. He wasn't quite sure yet what threw him off more.
He held her gaze. "We can do the glowing lasso routine if you want," he offered, his voice low he willed it not to betray him. "You would ask me all the right questions, and I would tell you every single thing I've ever said to you, and every single thing you've ever said to me. Those that were not meant for anyone else." He paused. "Or we can accept the fact that there is only one man in this world with my face who has a clear recollection of what you looked like when you first saw the snow."
The words tumbled out of his mouth, tripping over themselves as he spoke before Steve knew to stop them. A storm of emotions flashed across Diana's face when he fell silent as she looked at him, acceptance finally clicking into place.
"It's not your face that surprised me, but your association with Waller," she said, composing herself. "You know, after everything you said about not wanting to have anything to do with all of this." She gestured vaguely around them.
Steve picked a black USB stick from the desk, tossed it in the air and caught it effortlessly, desperately trying to divert her attention from the nervous jitteriness coursing through him that he was certain she couldn't miss.
"What? You never met a hypocrite before?" He breathed.
"Then why didn't you…" Diana began but trailed off when he glanced at her again.
"Why didn't I what?" He asked.
Why didn't you find me? She pressed her lips together, a shadow falling over her face as an unasked question and the only possible answer to it dawned on her.
"It wasn't this lifestyle you were trying to avoid then," she said – a statement, not a question.
She looked away, her tone impassive, and there wasn't a moment in over 60 years when Steve hated himself more than he did right now.
He put the USB in his pocket and rolled his shoulders in a half-shrug. Chose not to correct her.
"I didn't know what this would be about," he muttered, desperate to fill the silence that settled between them. "Waller isn't exactly a sharing type. I had no idea it would have anything to do with you."
Diana nodded, still focused on studying an empty wall in front of her.
"Otherwise you'd never come, undoubtedly."
"Undoubtedly," he echoed, and then cleared her throat. "Look, you don't want me here, I get it. Can't blame you. The last thing I want is to cause any more… discomfort, I guess. To you. Or anyone. I honestly have no idea what is it that Waller wants from your—" he cut off. "From Bruce Wayne. If I did, well…"
"And what is it that you want from her?" Diana interjected.
"What?"
"The deal. She said that you and she had a deal," she reminded him.
Steve shook his head. "It's nothing. Nothing for you to be concerned about," he brushed it off. "None of this… none of this is about you, Diana. Or us."
"I thought there was no us anymore," she said softly.
"There isn't," he confirmed, and she nodded again, pushing away from the counter this time.
"Well, I'm glad we're on the same page here."
"It's what we do best, don't we? Being on the same page?"
"Right." A pause. He thought she was going to shake his hand or do something else of that kind; something formal and cold and impersonal, now that they were here, in this odd place where they were neither strangers nor lovers, with a vast void stretching between them. Instead, she merely said, "Good night, Steve."
"Good night," he muttered to her back as she walked briskly out, all but sucking in her stomach when she passed by him lest they accidentally touch, as Steve tried not to think of her heading to Bruce Wayne's bedroom, wherever it was for fear of losing his sanity.
He was so screwed.
To be continued...
A/N: Feedback and yelling are much appreciated :)
Also I have quite a lot of backstory in my head, so if you want to discuss anything or have any question – let me know!
(I SO CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO GET BACK TOGETHER!)
I hope you're all enjoying this season, whether or not you celebrate anything, and I'll see you in 2018! :)