A Road Paved In Gold

by Nadin4400

Steve Trevor doesn't die in the sky in Belgium, but survival comes with the price he couldn't ever imagine. Angst. Wondertrev, Post-movie

19. Chapter 19

Author's note: Hey folks, with WW84 just around the corner, I'm trying to get as much of this baby out as I possibly can. Hopefully, I'll post it all before the film comes out because I've got some other stuff waiting for you already! That being said, please feel free to harass me if I start slacking out on updates :P Sometimes a kick in the butt can go a long way, as far as motivation is concerned.

Dig in and have fun! Got some fluffy and angsty goodness for you!

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"So, let me get this straight," Barry started, enunciating every word, his eyes trained on Bruce. "Your girlfriend went to Paris and stole a metal glove that kills people from under Diana's nose. Did I get that right?"

"A gauntlet," Diana corrected him.

"She's not my girlfriend," Bruce snarled, but no one seemed to notice.

"Not this week, anyway," Alfred added.

Bruce glared at him. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Anytime, sir."

They were down in the Batcave, crowded around one of the workstations where the grey, grainy image on the computer screen was showing a woman dressed in black who stood in a painfully familiar corridor of the Louvre, looking somewhere past the camera. Her hair was peeking out from under a mask that featured… cat ears?

Standing to the side and looking at the frozen frame from behind Diana's back, Steve leaned forward and rested his chin surreptitiously on her shoulder for a moment. A silent, I'm here. Without turning, Diana reached back and found his hand with hers, her thumb drawing circles on his palm.

"What's her deal?" Barry asked, jerking his chin toward the screen.

Bruce sighed. "Her name is Selina Kyle, she's a…"

"Thief," Clark offered when he hesitated.

"That's one way to put it," Bruce conceded flatly.

Victor cleared his throat. "Based on her line of work, it's the only way to put it."

"It's complicated."

"Ms. Kyle is a woman of… many talents," Alfred added quite fondly.

Steve glanced at Alfred, taking note of his small smile, which left Steve rather curious, and then over at Bruce who appeared to be more shocked than angry, as one would expect him to be in given circumstances. If Selina Kyle was indeed a woman of many talents, like Alfred had claimed, one of them was apparently making Bruce feel quite unsettled.

In the brief time that they had known each other, Steve had seen him concerned, annoyed, angry, irritated. Come to think of it, there had been quite a bit of irritation involved. Yet, Steve couldn't recall a single instance when Bruce seemed even mildly... nervous before. And that, he had to admit, was somehow more fascinating, at the moment, than the fact that Bruce appeared to be closely acquainted with the person who had stolen the ancient war gauntlet from one of the most secure museums in the world. Far more fascinating, in fact.

Clark puckered his lips. "What's with the cat ears?"

Bruce gave him a pointed once-over. "What's with the cape?"

"Part of the costume," Clark said.

"There you go."

Steve let go of Diana's fingers and straightened up, clearing his throat. "Hey, if you know her, maybe you could give her a call and ask her to just, I don't know, give the gauntlet back?" he offered.

Bruce's face closed up, his jaw taut. "We're not really on speaking terms, most of the time."

Barry tore his gaze away from the screen. "Okay, so… what's with the bracelet?" he asked no one in particular.

"A glove," Victor said.

"A gauntlet," Diana corrected again. She glanced at Steve and took a deep breath. "It's a weapon, a powerful one."

"Of course, it is," Barry muttered under his breath.

Bruce shot him a look and the young man mimed zipping his mouth shut.

With grim faces, they listened as Diana spoke, repeating the same story she had told Steve a few days ago, explaining the origins and the powers of the Claw as best she could. For a while, everyone remained silent. For once, not even Barry interrupted her with questions even though Steve suspected that they all had plenty.

Truth be told, he did too. Still. Hearing the story for the second time did not make it any less outlandish, wild even. And here he was starting to think that there was nothing left in the world that could still surprise him. His eyes moved from face to face, taking in slight frowns and pursed lips and tautly set jaws, rightfully worried, and his own concerns stirred in the pit of his stomach.

His eyes darted toward the image of Selina Kyle once more, and then he walked away from the group and paused in front of Batmobile parked at the other end of the Batcave. He stared at the aggressive vehicle, sleek and practical, without really seeing it as he felt himself slip into spy mode, familiar and as comfortable as a second skin. His body was tense and coiled like a spring, ready for whatever was coming before his mind knew how to even begin to process it.

There was a comfort to the feeling, a familiarity that reminded him that he hadn't lost touch with that side of his life just yet. Maybe never would. But it brought back memories, too. Memories he didn't want to relive in this lifetime or any other, and Steve wondered in the back of his mind – and not without a twinge of concern – if it was going to get better now that he had different people to build new memories with. Or if his old life would continue haunting him for as long as he lived.

Diana's voice carried to him across the space between them, bouncing off the stone and metal around them. Steve loved it, love the way the words rolled off her tongue, always measured as if each was meant to count, none ever wasted. Loved the slight husk of her cadence and the way it sounded when she whispered his name into his ear as his lips danced over her skin. It was sure and steady now, despite the gravity of the situation.

The League might have come together for Bruce, and none of them would ever deny it, but they stayed for her. Every time Steve thought about it, the centre of his chest filled with fierce pride that he had no right to own but that brought him satisfaction nonetheless.

A pandemonium of questions erupted the second she fell silent.

"A pharaoh? Like, a real one?" Barry repeated at least half a dozen times as it appeared to be the only thing that he had managed to pick up.

Steve turned to him to find the speedster looking mildly shell shocked.

"As opposed to what, a fake one?" Victor huffed.

Barry poked a finger into his metal chest. "Hey, it's a legit question!"

Victor waved him off. His eyes found Diana's. "What do you mean, the magnetic core of the Earth?" He frowned.

"What does this have to do with Master Luthor?" Alfred inquired before she had a chance to answer and all eyes turned to him.

Steve walked back over to the group and paused near Diana who was standing with her back straight and her arms folded across her chest. She glanced at him, and he offered her a small smile that did little to smooth out the worry lines on her face, but he chose not to take it personally.

"We don't know," Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck and jerked his chin toward the workstation and the monitor that was still displaying the recovered footage, with the woman responsible for this mess stark in the middle of it. "We were kinda hoping that this would help."

As if on cue, everyone turned to Bruce.

"No," he said firmly.

"It wouldn't hurt to call," Alfred suggested.

Bruce shot him a warning look. "No," he repeated.

Alfred remained unfazed. "Maybe she would even pick up this time."

"Alfred."

The old man raised his hands but didn't press any further.

Bruce's gaze flicked toward Diana, but instead of saying anything he only pressed his lips together into a flat line.

"Do we know how it happened?" Clark broke the silence. Six pairs of eyes shifted to him. "Lex. How he got out of Arkham? I can't recall many precedents of that sort."

"It happened two nights ago," Bruce explained, an expression of mild disgust crossing his face like he had bitten into something sour. "After the lights went out for the night. As of right now, it's unclear who was helping him, but there had to be someone. Four guards are at the hospital now, one of them in a critical condition. There is a chance that we might get something from them, but…" he trailed off.

He clearly didn't harbour any hope for that, Steve thought, watching him, quite fascinated by how carefully Bruce was controlling his emotions, and how they were spilling all over his face nonetheless. This was not the nameless, faceless burglars or pickpockets that he was used to dealing with, or so Steve heard. This was personal, and dangerous, and the last time the League came face to face with that man – well, face to face with his experiment – one of them ended up in a grave.

Unlike Bruce, Clark was an embodiment of composure. His shoulders were square, his face open. If he took Lex's escape as an insult or a challenge, there was no sign of it, and for that Steve was grateful. Bruce seemed like the type of guy who would ram a car into a brick wall for dramatics and jump into cross-fire for just the same reason. Perhaps it was a good thing to have one of them balance the other out.

He was not certain where Diana stood in that particular equation.

According to her, Bruce blamed himself greatly for what had happened to Clark, and if Steve had to guess, locking Lex up felt like some sort of redemption for him, if a belated one, at that. After all, it could hardly bring the dead man back to life. If nothing else, there was a certain degree of satisfaction to it – something that Steve understood all too well. And now they were back to square one, and if Steve was being honest with himself, he couldn't even begin to guess how this situation was going to play out.

"He has not shown up at his house or tried to use any of his cards," Bruce continued. "Nor was he caught on the CCTV cameras."

"And you know this how?" Barry inquired, curious.

"I have a police scanner," Bruce said flatly, his expression blank.

Barry blinked, not sure whether to believe him or not.

"Of course, you do," Victor muttered.

"So, we've got nothing," Clark summed it up.

Bruce shook his head. "Lex is not the kind of guy to make a show out of escaping one of the most guarded prison facilities in the country and then go into hiding."

"Which would actually be smart," Victor pointed out.

"I don't think smart is what he is going for," Bruce muttered.

"The word you're looking for is payback," Alfred said.

No one disagreed.

"He has to have money," Bruce added, his eyes sweeping over the group. Steve noticed that he was pointedly avoiding looking in the general direction of the workstations. "Offshore accounts, perhaps. Money prepared exactly for a scenario like this one. Lex is a lot of things… always has been," Bruce grimaced a little, "but he is not an idiot. In the general sense of the word," he muttered under his breath.

Steve and Diana exchanged a look.

"What?" Barry demanded, eyes darting between the two of them.

Diana cleared her throat. "The painting found in the possession of Darrell Quinn… We think Lex gave it to him with the intention of getting it back later, when he needed something of value. If that is true, he might have been planning this for a while."

"Like a safety cushion of sorts," Steve added.

"His name is all over Quinn's papers."

Bruce scrubbed his hand over his face. "Great. He has god knows what within arm's reach and we won't know what it is until it's too late."

Steve suspected that Lex would likely use an alias, too. This was exactly the type of thing that he really and truly hated. The type of situation that, to his memory, had cost people their lives more often than not, leaving those who stayed behind sick to their stomach over their own helplessness.

You couldn't be prepared if you didn't know what you need to be prepared for. It reminded him too much of his time in the trenches, his feet frozen in his boots that were stuck in cold mud, making his progress painfully slow, and never knowing which grenade would be his last.

He had seen people die before his eyes, drowning in their own blood, and not one of them ever saw it coming.

"Is he behind those creepy things at the Lab, too?" Barry asked almost matter-of-factly.

They all looked at him.

"What?" He frowned. "Like it's that wild?"

"They're people, not things," Diana noted. "And we don't know that."

"They didn't seem like people that night," Barry grumbled.

"Wait, what about Waller?" Victor turned to Diana.

"No, it wasn't her," she shook her head, but didn't add anything else.

Oddly, no one pressed for details.

"But can't we just, like, ask them?" Barry asked.

"They don't remember anything," Victor explained, shaking his head. "They've been kept separately to avoid having them agree on a story to tell, but even so, they give the same answer. Waller's people have been all over them for weeks now, but they'll have no choice but to let them go eventually if they get nothing out of them. They can't keep them in custody forever."

"Your dad told you that?" Bruce asked.

Victor tapped a finger against his temple – metal on metal. "I have my own ways."

"I suppose I should go take care of Mr. Curry's flight," Alfred said after a moment. "It seems like we are going to need all the help we can get."

No one stopped him when he left.

Steve wasn't sure how long they stayed there, tossing ideas around only to have them bounce off the walls and break against logic and reasoning. Hours, for certain. Plans had been drawn and discarded and reworked again and again until they could no longer remember where the initial idea was meant to go or how it was supposed to be executed.

He had lost track of time. At some point, someone – he suspected Barry – had ordered pizza. Ten boxes. Alfred brought coffee for everyone but didn't stay, disappearing once again up the wide staircase leading to the ground level of the house. Diana left after a while to make some phone calls to Paris but then came back, Steve's heart shifting back into place every time his gaze fixed on her talking to someone on the team. He watched her speak with Victor, taking note of her easy way with Barry, and her apparent affection for Clark. One didn't need to be a spy to see the certain strain between her and Bruce, but they felt like a team right now in every way Steve could think of. A unity.

He wondered if the feeling was going to hold after Lex Luthor had been dealt with. If it was meant to exist in the first place outside of one crisis or another.

Which made him feel, oddly, like an impostor. He was not; he knew that they didn't think so either, could see it in the way they listened to him, actually hearing what he was saying. He chalked it off to not being there from the start, not sharing the same experiences with them. It was hard to ignore the feeling that something was missing.

He thought about Bruce and their conversation earlier that day about Waller, and wondered once more if the other man was right. If she really was looking for someone to become the link between the League and the government. He knew all too well that she was not going to stop coming for them. People like her never stopped until they were stopped, and one day someone was bound to get hurt in the process.

It was hard to get his scattered thoughts together when he felt so… all over the place. Too much was happening at once, and he had only so much focus to spare. He would have to sort it all out once the dust had settled and they weren't facing some impending doom anymore, but Bruce had got him thinking. There was no denying that.

Steve ran his hand over his face. Diana would kill him for even considering Bruce's idea. Working for Waller—hell, he was getting mad at himself for thinking about it, too.

She had found him some undetermined time later, sitting in front of one of the computers, trying to—

Okay, he wasn't sure what he was trying to do, exactly. Hadn't been for a while, truth be told. The facial recognition system that ran through the Gotham CCTV cameras had yet to find a match for Lex, but Steve knew that it meant nothing. A baseball cap and his face turned downwards went a long way as far as those things were concerned. Right now, every cop in the city was looking for him. Steve didn't expect him to make it easy on any of them.

Diana's hands landed on his shoulders from behind, palms sliding down his chest as she leaned closer to him. The smell of something floral and sweet invaded Steve's senses, wrapping around him like a cloud of comfort.

"Admirable dedication, Captain," she whispered into his ear, a smile in her voice. "You've been at this for hours. Find anything?"

Steve caught her hand and turned it to kiss the inside of her wrist, her pulse a rapid flutter against his lips. He glanced up. "Hi."

Diana smiled down at him, gaze skating over the glasses he was wearing. Steve could hear a quip dance on the tip of her tongue. Yet, what she said was: "Hi."

He shook his head, his hands curling around her wrists. "No, nothing yet. What about you?"

She sighed, her smile fading as two faint lines appeared between her eyebrows.

"We are not going to find Lex Luthor until he wants to be found," she said with a displeased kind of certainty that left Steve without a counter-argument because she was most certainly right. He didn't see it happening otherwise, either.

"He might want to take some time. Get everyone on edge."

She didn't argue though he knew she didn't much like his theory. "Perhaps." She hesitated for a moment, then straightened up, pulling out of his grasp. "Come with me," she asked softly.

Steve glanced at the screen once more, taking note of the time and was surprised to realize that it was past 11 PM. It was easy to lose track of time down there, in the cavernous room without windows. He looked at the couch in the corner where Barry was slouched, nose buried in this phone, his eyes glazed over. Clark and Victor were talking quietly, standing by a glass display with one of Bruce's old Batman costumes, but Bruce himself wasn't around. He had disappeared a while ago, but Steve couldn't for the life of himself remember when that happened.

When he turned to Diana again, she was already halfway up the staircase. She didn't look back, clearly expecting him to follow, and he scrambled to his feet, yanking his glasses off and leaving them on the desk as he hurried after her, half-jogging up the stairs to catch up.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he reached for her hand and grabbed hold of it. Absently, he wondered where Alfred was and if Arthur was actually coming.

"Bed," she said without looking at him. "It's late."

"But it's not that la—Oh."

Steve cleared his throat, as it went dry at the sight of her small half-smile.

She pulled him into their room, closing the door behind them. It was dark, but neither one reached for the switch on the wall. He couldn't believe that they had spent nearly the entire day down in the Batcave and yet they had nothing to show for it. Not that that was Steve's primary concern at the moment.

Outside, the lake was black and ominous, its surface as smooth and reflective as a large mirror. It was quiet here, too. Downstairs, he had tuned out the ever-present hum of the air circulation system, the drone of the computers and the buzz of the conversations filling the air, but here the silence was almost deafening, so much so that it felt like someone had turned the whole world off.

"Steve?"

He turned to Diana and she moved into his arms, her hands framing his face, pushing into his hair, dark eyes roaming over his features. Steve leaned in, crowding her space until there was no air left between them and his heart was pounding straight into hers.

"Hi," he repeated, feeling the corners of his lips curve upwards.

She smiled back, her fingers scratching through his hair. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Steve dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. Like thank god. Like finally. Having been thinking of nothing but Lex Luthor for hours on end, Steve didn't know if he'd be able to put this whole day behind him so easily. Boy, was he wrong.

Diana kissed him back, eagerly and without hesitation, a small sound of appreciation forming in the back of her throat and nearly undoing him in the best way.

"Been thinking about doing this for hours," she whispered hoarsely against his lips.

He could feel her smile against his mouth.

"You have?" Steve echoed. "Gotta say your poker face had me fooled. I was certain that you were focused on the crisis at hand."

Her smile spread out wider. "I can multitask."

Desire flared up inside of him, white-hot and consuming, a strangled sound escaping his lips. Steve swallowed past it, his heart seeming to have lodged itself in his throat. Her hands fell to his chest, sliding down along the cotton of his shirt, heat burning in her gaze. He wanted to touch her all over, wanted to kiss her until she forgot her own name.

"Good thing I pretty much always think about doing this, too," he breathed.

He reached for the elastic band and pulled it off, unravelling her tight braid. Diana moved her head a little to shake it out, her nose brushing against his cheek. Her breath fell on his skin, and even something as seemingly unessential as that made his blood rush south in an instant. Steve combed his fingers through the black mass, silky against his skin, and lifted her face to his.

"Won't they wait for us to come back?" he asked, tracing his thumb along her jaw.

Diana pressed her lips together around a smile. "They'll know better than to come looking for us." Her eyebrow quirked pointedly, and he wished that it wasn't this dark, that he could see her better. "Although—"

She slipped out of his arms and took a step away from him, and then another one before Steve could process what was happening and grab onto her. She kept on moving until her back was pressed against the door. There were a few feet of space between them now, which was a few too many, and he missed her terribly already.

"We could go back, I suppose," she said slowly, her finger running absently along thin silver necklace around her neck. From under her eyelashes, she watched him watch her, head tilted ever so slightly to her shoulder.

This was not their first night together in 1918 when she was – briefly - fascinated with the workings of his belt buckle and frustrated over the number of buttons on his shirt. It wasn't even seventy years ago when they were still learning each other. This Diana before him knew what she was doing, perfectly aware of the effect she was having on him. Steve suspected that she understood exactly just how much he wanted her, taking pleasure in the power she wielded over him. If nothing else, it was written all over his face, as he didn't even bother trying to hide it.

Her fingers traced the collar of her shirt and dropped down to the top button, pausing for only a moment before undoing it. Steve's eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribcage – a little harder, and it would have burst right out of his chest. He forced himself to stay focused. Still, when the second button was undone revealing even more skin he felt all air rush out of him.

Diana smiled and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Steve asked.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his pants so as not to reach for her. He wanted to touch her so badly it made him ache.

"Enjoying what?" Diana asked innocently. "We were talking about… ah, work."

He grinned and shook his head, his smile slipping when she reached the next button, fingertips trailing slowly along her skin, her eyes never leaving his face, clearly pleased with what she was seeing. He caught a glimpse of black lace beneath her shirt, which got him thinking of the set she was wearing the night of the auction in Metropolis. Which got him thinking about the time she wore it for him. Which got him thinking—

Steve allowed his eyes to dip down and slide over her body. Life was simpler in certain ways back in the time when they first met, he could admit that much, but one had to appreciate the present-day affinity for tight clothing. He certainly did. His eyes lingered on her legs. He had never made a secret out of his fondness for them, though it wasn't just that. It had never been just her body that he wanted.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be professional here," Steve said evenly, barely able to keep a straight face, his voice low and hoarse despite his attempt at a joking tone.

"Steve?"

He snapped his gaze back up.

There was so much fire in her eyes now it was a miracle the whole house wasn't ablaze. She was beautiful. So beautiful he forgot momentarily how to think.

"I don't suppose there is much we can do tonight," she said, reaching for the knob behind her back, her hand curling over the polished brass. "But if you do want to go back—"

He couldn't bear it any longer. This was fun and all, but he was going to implode if they stayed apart for another moment. Steve swore under his breath and moved towards her. His hands pushed into her hair, his body flush against hers, trapping her between him and the door.

"Christ, Diana…"

She was the one to close the space between them, pressing her mouth to his. He kissed her hungrily, the weariness of the past hours that had settled over him melting away. Steve heard the sound of fabric tearing, the remaining buttons running down the front of her blouse spilling onto the floor, not sure which one of them did it. He would buy her a new shirt. He would buy her a hundred if only she stopped holding back right now.

Diana gasped against his mouth when his hands skimmed over her skin, her breath catching in her throat. Steve pressed her back against the door and she arched away from it and into him, fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt. He was tempted to pause for as long as it took to ask her to tear it off of him. Maybe later, he thought. Maybe tomorrow. Right now he needed to remember where the bed was and how they could get there.

"Steve—"

"For hours, huh?" he mumbled, his chest heaving against hers.

Diana smiled and hummed noncommittally, a sound that morphed into a moan when he ran his fingers along the base of her spine and then traced the curve of it up to her shoulder blades.

"What else did you think about?" he asked, dipping his head to press his mouth to the spot behind her ear and kissing his way along her jaw.

She gasped when his hands slid down and under her thighs to lift her up, her legs wrapping around his hips. She wound her arms around his neck and, for a moment, all Steve could do was stare at her, her eyes dark with want and her lips parted slightly.

And then she leaned down, her voice wonderfully breathless against his mouth. "Let me show you."

xoox

In the past, finding Selina was a matter of not looking for her. It had always felt as if something was throwing them in front of one another, and if Bruce didn't know any better, he would almost believe in the providence of sorts. The truth, however, was much simpler than that – Gotham wasn't big enough to keep people like them apart for too long.

Until one day it got too small, to the point of suffocating them both.

That was why he didn't want to go searching for her. That was why he was a little bit disgusted with himself right now, freezing in the rain what was only a degree or two away from turning into snow as he tried to track down someone who didn't want to be found.

Restlessness crawled under his skin, making him listen harder even though the sound of his own footsteps was all he could hear, making him glance over his shoulder more than he normally would despite the street remaining dark behind him. For all he knew, Selina wasn't even in town, maybe not even in the country. God only knew where she might have ended up between the last time they saw each other and now. He had long stopped keeping tabs on her for their mutual sake.

That she got tangled up with Lex Luthor's mess left him pissed. She was smarter than that. Better than that, for that matter. Even the unsavoury nature of her lifestyle called for better judgement than that, for heaven's sake.

The rain grew more persistent, and Bruce wished that he was wearing his Batsuit instead of his coat, that had ended up too thin for the weather. At least the suit was water-proof.

He wished he hadn't come. It had been hours and this wild goose chase was starting to feel like a waste of time. All because of Diana. He grimaced at the thought. She hadn't asked for it, but he was so damn desperate for her approval and one of those smiles that she was dispensing so freely to Trevor. He should be happy for her, Bruce thought. Clark was right, she was like a different person now; luminous in a way Bruce could never have imagined before. If he was a bigger person, a better person, he would put his feelings aside and be glad that she had gotten her long-lost love back.

Instead, he bitterly wished that Steve Trevor remained dead the way Bruce had thought he was, and that it was his company that Diana was spending her nights in. If that was the case, he wouldn't be forced out of the comfort of his house on a night when even petty criminals stayed away from trouble, chasing a ghost he didn't want to deal with in the first place. She wasn't in love with him, never had been, and yet here he was trying to please her again because somewhere along the way it ended up being a priority in his life.

Bruce cursed quietly and paused in his tracks.

He had no business being in a dark alley in the middle of the night, foolishly thinking that nothing had changed in the past year and that Selina was still picking pockets for fun, just because she could. Just because she wanted to prove to herself that she was the best. He had long stopped arguing with that logic. If he paused for one moment to even try to think logically, he would start with—

Bruce rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. Lost in thought – and a little bit of paranoia – he hadn't noticed he had been circling back to his car. His initial relief over the idea of putting this ridiculous night behind was slammed against a wall of recognition when his eyes adjusted to the deeper shadows of the alley and he saw that he wasn't alone.

Selina was leaning against the passenger door, cashmere coat hugging her body, arms folded over her chest. Her lips twitched when she saw him freeze to the spot, although he doubted that there was any good humour behind that smirk.

"Bruce," she greeted him in a low drawl, all too familiar for his comfort. Bruce scowled, mostly at himself and his pulse that stuttered traitorously. She pushed away from his car and straightened up. "After all this time… To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Some things never changed.

xoox

The wind picked up some time after midnight, whispering in the vents and making the bare branches of the trees growing around the house scrape restlessly against the walls. With half a dozen people hanging around the place at all times, it was easy to forget now and then how remote the lake house was from the noise of the city. How quiet it could get. Until it wasn't.

Steve wondered sometimes how Bruce could stand the isolation, and whether his choice was a reflection of his character, or the other way around. The stillness never failed to make him nervous, pushing him to think of something lying in wait, watching them from the darkness. The hassle of the city posed a different sort of threat, what with the crowds that made him feel like he was suffocating, but if he had to choose, he preferred it to this eerie silence and the endless stretch of forest for miles and miles around them. His blood was no longer freezing in his veins at the sound of a car backfiring or explosions of fireworks, but old habits die hard, apparently. This place, somehow, was as discreet as it was exposed.

Right now, though, he loved it. Loved the quiet peace and the soft sound of Diana's breathing being the only thing cutting through it, her chest rising and falling slowly against his. She wasn't asleep, her fingers trailing absently over his chest in a pattern only she understood, but they hadn't moved or spoken in a while, content in their silence. He loved that they could have this, the blissful sensation of just being, without the need to fill it with empty conversation.

His body felt drained, completely spent, but his mind was wide awake and on fire. Like one of those dreams where someone was chasing after him, but his feet were leaden, making it impossible for him to take another step. He was fairly certain that if something forced him to move beyond combing his fingers through Diana's hair, he'd fail spectacularly.

Earlier, she had whispered You feel so good into the crook on his neck, the words barely breaking through the incoherent haze of pleasure wrapped around his brain. It was a miracle he had heard her at all. Now the memory made his lips twitch. A hundred years later, and he was still ridiculously, stupidly proud of not being unnecessary as far as her experiences went and of being able to show that even though he wasn't like her, strictly speaking, he was still enough.

Mine, he had murmured in response, his words punctuated with chaste kisses as his lips danced over her face, her shoulders, the curve of her neck. You're mine, Diana.

Steve pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and her hand froze on his skin.

"You were right, no one came knocking," he chuckled under his breath.

"They would have if something happened," Diana murmured, kissing a spot just below his collarbone, a smile in her voice. "Good thing we can keep ourselves busy." She raised her head from his chest to look at him, one eyebrow arched suggestively.

He laughed, the sound of it morphing into a groan. "Have some mercy."

The smile broke across her face. "I don't remember you complaining earlier."

"I am 137 years old," he pointed out.

Diana lifted her head to rest her chin on the back of her hand lying on his sternum, watching him with unmasked fondness. "I don't remember that being an issue, either," she pointed out, amused.

"Yeah, well, just trying to stay on top—" he started, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger.

She grinned. "You are good at that, yes."

"—of my game," Steve finished, feeling the heat shoot through his system.

He flashed a self-indulgent smile at her, the glint in her eyes chasing the remnants of his fatigue away. He lifted his hand and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Are you alright?" he asked when she turned into his touch and kissed the palm of his hand. He lost his train of thought momentarily, only knowing that once he was able to move again, they were going back to figuring out the whole staying on top thing. He certainly had an idea or two he wanted to put into practice. Probably.

Diana's smile dimmed. "I am," she said after a moment, her eyes searching his face in the dark.

Steve couldn't see her clearly, but he could feel that there was something else there, something in her voice telling him that there was more than she was willing to let on.

"But you'd rather be out there, patrolling," he suggested.

She shook her head, rising to settle next to him, propped on her elbow. "There is nowhere else I'd rather be," she said sincerely. "Besides, if Lex Luthor is waiting for us to come to him—If it's a trap, then not looking for him will perhaps lure him out and make him come looking for us instead."

"Give us an upper hand," Steve mused. "Throw him off-balance."

Plenty of battle tactics were about the subversion of expectations of one's opponent, and many of those battles were won because of that, and he hoped against all hope that Diana was right. That everyone was right about not making the first move. Hoped they were not going to regret it later.

"That's the idea," Diana admitted.

"But?" he prompted when he heard a but coming.

A small smile made its return. She shook her head a little. "I don't think patience is my strong suit," she confessed, and Steve let out a quiet laugh.

"A woman who left her home to go fight a war that wasn't even hers, the one who charged across No Man's Land without a moment of hesitation?" He quirked a pointed eyebrow at her. "You wouldn't say."

Diana rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was struggling not to laugh as well, which felt like a victory, no matter how small. He didn't want her thinking about the mess that was waiting for them, not tonight. Not for the next little while, if he could make it happen.

Steve lifted his hand and stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. "You should sleep," he said when common sense took over.

The last couple of days had been hectic enough for both of them, and even though Steve firmly decided to leave his own thoughts about Lex Luthor and, well, everything else on the other side of the door, it didn't mean that those things ceased to exist simply because he was doing his best to pretend that they had. Getting some rest probably wasn't a bad idea, all things considered, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do when the alternative was so much more attractive. When it was smiling at him in that glorious way that was making it hard for him to breathe.

"Me?" Diana smiled, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Steve blinked.

Diana swept her hand through his hair, the tips of her fingers trailing along the stubble on his cheek. She watched him quietly for a few moments, and all Steve could think about was that he had never loved anyone the way he loved her, to the point of feeling dizzy with exhilaration.

Her lips twitched just a bit. "Well, we're together," she noted, trying very hard not to smile. "And this is a perfectly good bed." She paused, but Steve only stared back at her, his mind blank. "I don't suppose there's anything stopping you from sleeping with me."

Steve scrubbed his hand down his face and pressed his lips together so as not to laugh.

He looked at her. "I suppose it can be arranged," he conceded after a moment.

He was tempted to mention the other night, a long time ago, when she had asked him to sleep with her and the duality of her request – and say that he was more than happy to take it either way. Wanted to ask if she really remembered every single thing he had ever said to her because he sure as hell did. But when Diana leaned forward, all he could think to do was rise on his elbow and meet her halfway, lips brushing to hers and kissing her smile.

"Will you tell me what went down between you and Amanda Waller?" Steve asked when he pulled back, surprising them both, if her startled expression was any indication.

Diana's brows pulled together. The name of the Director of A.R.G.U.S. was sobering, and he half-regretted bringing it up and shattering that small cocoon of contentment that they had managed to weave around themselves in the past couple of hours, all the more comforting with the foul weather raging outside. Wished that they could stay in that cocoon forever, although he would settle for twenty years or so, to start with. Yet, there was a burning need inside of him. One he didn't know existed until the question had slipped out of his mouth, but once it had, it was all Steve could think of.

Earlier, he had pushed his thoughts of that encounter out of his mind, not wishing to bring in up in front of the rest of the League, but there was nothing stopping them from discussing it now. Even if the cost of it was the slight frown on her face and the uncomfortable tightness of foreboding in his chest.

Eyes never leaving her face, he ran his thumb over her chin when she remained silent. "Diana…"

"She found you because of me," Diana sighed.

He frowned. "I don't understand."

She traced her fingers along his collarbone, her eyes cast down, but she didn't move away, and he was glad, grateful for her closeness.

"The photograph from Veld… Lex Luthor found it when he was gathering information on meta-humans," she said, her voice measured and her words careful. "Waller discovered it when he got arrested and they gained access to his personal files. Thinking that I might not be the only one still alive a hundred years later, she dug deeper. Bruce suspected it too, when he first came across the file, but I told him he wouldn't find anything. I don't think he bothered looking."

"You told him that I was dead," Steve muttered, speaking more to himself than to her.

She looked up, her eyes finding his. "No, Steve. No, of course not. I never said that. I wouldn't." She paused. "I merely never corrected his assumption when he assumed that you were, not wishing for him to keep digging into my life. And yours."

He nodded. "I guess I can see why Waller would get curious," he admitted.

"She knew that you and I shared history, but didn't know the extent of it. I don't think anything that had happened between us ever made it into archives."

"I sure hope so," he said pointedly, cajoling a small smile out of her. He brushed her hair back from her face. It was still an odd thing to consider. Someone going methodically through his life, thinking that they had the right to do it. He expected to be angry over the idea, but mostly he was just glad that he had gotten rid of the most obvious trail that had followed him across time. "There was always the chance that I might have seen you and walked out of that door without another word, but she was willing to take that risk."

Diana rolled her shoulders in a small shrug. "I'm assuming she thought that she had nothing to lose."

He peered at her. "Does she now?"

Her expression grew serious. "She is not going to use your files for her gain," she said firmly, not a hint of doubt in her voice. "If she ever planned on doing that, she does not anymore."

Steve stayed silent for a while. Then he let out a long breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You shouldn't have done that."

Her frown deepened, her face growing confused. "Shouldn't have done what?"

He dropped his hand onto the sheets between them. "Threatened her. I know she's not a good guy here, but that's—that's not you."

Diana froze. "Not me?" She pushed up to sit, staring at him in disbelief, bristling visibly at his words. "And who am I, exactly, Steve?"

He stared back at her, feeling frustration well up in his chest. At her for not seeing this the way he did; at himself for being the reason of it; at Amanda bloody Waller for—more things that he could think of.

"You're better than that," he said at last. "Better than—"

"Than what?" Diana demanded. "She was the one who threatened you, who threatened Barry and Victor — did you not tell me that?"

"I did, but—" he started.

"Then I don't understand what part of me protecting the people I care about is not me," she interjected. "You know people like her. You have known people like her your whole life, people who would stop at nothing to get what they want. How is this different from me stopping Ludendorff from wiping off half of the world? How is this different from anything that we do here?"

"Because you are better than her, Diana," he said, his voice rising. "Because I don't want you to put yourself on her level for me."

He pressed his lips into a thin line and exhaled slowly through his nose, searching for composure. For better words that would make her understand that there was nothing that terrified him more than watching the vile and ugly parts of his world plant their seeds in her soul.

All those years ago, her mother had been right when she had told Diana that his people didn't deserve her. Steve never felt more convinced of it than he did right now. They didn't. They never had.

"You're the one who put me on a pedestal," Diana said quietly, shaking her head, and for once, there was fear in her voice. He watched her fingers flex as if she needed to hold on to something. "I didn't do it. I didn't ask for it."

She still wasn't looking at him, and he wished she would.

Steve rubbed his eyes. "I didn't—it's not—" He huffed out a breath of frustration. "I don't want to be the reason for—for you being someone you are not."

"You don't know who I am anymore, Steve. You weren't here to see who I became after you chose to leave."

She might have as well have struck him. Steve felt the air wheeze out of his lungs as white-hot shame flared up inside of him, making his face grow hot.

Anguish chased across Diana's features when she saw him flinch. She turned away, her back to him like she couldn't stand looking at him. Steve watched her draw her knees up as silence fell between them, heavy and hurtful.

For a long moment, he made no attempt to reach for her, her words running on an endless loop in his head, and he wondered if he was ever going to forget them. If there was a way to erase the memory of accusation in her voice. What a fool he was to think that they could put his terrible mistakes behind them once and for all.

He didn't doubt that she wanted to forgive him, but he was starting to wonder if she ever could.

He watched her push her hand into her hair in silent frustration. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, all too aware of the thudding of his heart somewhere in his throat, and wondering how it was even possible to cut each other so deeply with nothing but words. How many scars had they had already left on one another? And how could the night that had started out with so much affection have taken a turn for the worse so suddenly?

At last, Steve sat up too, hesitant to touch her. He was close enough for her to know that he was there, and when Diana made no attempt to move away from him, he leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder before resting his forehead against the base of her neck.

She was right. He had not been there—a mistake Steve knew would regret for as long as he lived. They might have known each other for a century, but there was still so much they didn't know about one another it made his mind reel, the years apart like an abyss between them. He wondered, not for the first time, if they were ever going to catch up. Diana had told him she had forgiven him, and he didn't doubt that she'd meant it. Or wanted to, at least. But he could still the hurt behind her words, the lingering aftertaste of his betrayal.

"If I could undo it all, I would do so in a heartbeat," he said, after a moment.

She didn't respond.

"What are you so scared of?" he asked quietly without moving. His eyes fluttered closed, his senses zeroed in on the two of them, focused on nothing but the warmth of her body and the way she relaxed ever so subtly at the contact.

"That you'll leave again," Diana breathed, her head bowed down.

"I won't," Steve said. "I told you I won't. I swear to god, Diana, there is nothing that can take me away from you."

She said nothing, and he pulled away to sit next to her, her face a pale outline against the shadows crowding the room.

"You don't believe me." His words came out as a statement rather than a question.

"It's not you I don't believe."

He stared down at his hands, the old hurt that had flared up at her words simmering down. The truth was, he knew that she was right. He knew that he couldn't blame her. She had spent decades battling through ugliness and violence and the absolute worst that the world had to offer, and just because she hadn't given up yet didn't mean that he could blame her for still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He wanted her, and knew that she wanted him to, but somehow it only made that wonderful thing between them feel all the more fragile.

"I don't want you to be someone you're not because of me," he repeated, but the fight was gone from his voice.

She hadn't looked at him once. He could feel the heat that had built up between them in the past couple of hours seep away without a trace, replaced by a cold, harsh reality that he wasn't yet ready to deal with. Steve kicked himself mentally for having started this conversation at all. For not waiting till tomorrow, or maybe ten years from now, just to be safe, foolishly thinking that the darkness could smooth out their rough edges. Instead, they seemed to have used them to cut each other open.

"Waller is mad." There were disgust and resentment in Diana's voice. "She put nano-bombs in people's skulls and didn't hesitate to activate them just to make a point." Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw her fists clench tight. "I've made my choice. I know what I want. She might have found you but she will not come anywhere near you again. I will not let her use you against me or anyone else."

He didn't respond, all too aware that if their situation was reversed he would have done the exact same thing. There might have been more blood on his hands than a thousand years of good deeds could ever wash off, and Diana might have come to his world to bring peace, but he couldn't and wouldn't fault her for protecting those she cared for.

Steve hung his head, his pulse throbbing fast in his veins, his mouth dry and his thoughts a garbled mess in his head. He thought of Bruce's words earlier and the loophole that he mentioned that could keep everyone happy, but he couldn't bring himself to voice that idea, half-hating it somewhere deep inside. Knew that she would, too. He wished they could go back to the moments of lazy kisses and slow smiles and whispered confessions, away from the cold abyss that he hadn't seen coming and couldn't see the end of.

Diana shifted beside him, moving closer, and when he turned to her, she was reaching for him. Her hand slid up his face and through his hair and down again to rest on the back of his neck. She leaned in and pressed her forehead to his.

"I'm scared of losing you, too," Steve murmured, his voice low and hoarse. "I'm afraid that one day you'll want more than I can give. And that's not much already…" He shook his head.

"Steve…"

He took in a breath. "So if you think—if you want to maybe take it slow—" He was babbling. He was babbling because even with her right there, her skin smooth and warm beneath his touch, he couldn't help feeling like she was slipping right through his fingers. And it terrified him. "Anything you need."

"You make me happy, my love," she whispered, stopping him gently. He watched her eyes flutter shut. "You make me so happy that I forget what not having you felt like."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, his throat growing tight. "I'm crazy about you. You know that, right?"

Diana lifted her gaze, her lips curled ever so slightly at the corners. He tried to look past the remnants of fear and devastation in her eyes. "You're very convincing, yes."

Steve sighed. "I trust you, too. Just for the record."

"I don't trust her, and I don't regret what I've done."

"Okay," he said simply.

Her nails scratched along his scalp. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

Steve wasn't sure which one of them kissed the other. Had no idea if she had moved or it was he who pulled her into his lap either, but suddenly she was there with her arms woven around his neck and her mouth fused to his, desire laced with devotion and need to make the other understand coursing between them.

Diana muttered something in Greek against his mouth, and he had no idea what it was. Not a protest for sure. Perhaps one of the many expletives she seemed to be familiar with. He would ask later. Right now, he wanted nothing but to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her, and she didn't seem to mind.

They didn't speak much for the rest of the night.

xoox

It was the pale light of the cold autumnal sun chasing away the gloominess of the day before that awoke Diana several hours later. The first thing that occurred to her when her mind sharpened enough to pull her out of her slumber was that she planned to close the curtains before she and Steve had fallen asleep but must have forgotten.

It was quiet, save for the light breeze outside tugging at the branches of the trees. Whatever time it was, it couldn't possibly be late. Still, she couldn't recall the last time she had slept past sunrise, not in recent years for sure. It was almost as if the fight had drained her, the angry words that they had flung at one another. Ones that rang true. And those that followed, meant to make up for the wounds that she and Steve had left on one another.

Then again, they also did stay up most of the night afterwards, she recalled, quite happy to remain wrapped in one another and the promises whispered in the dark until exhaustion claimed them, at last.

Now Steve's body was curled around her, his arm slung possessively around her waist and his chest rising and falling slowly against her shoulder blades, the warmth of him making Diana dozy. She felt her lips curve into a smile and turned her face into her pillow, aware of the futility of trying to fall back asleep, too awake and alert for that already, but still adamant to hold on to those moments of peace before the pleasant remnants of her drowsiness wore off.

And it was then that she realized that it wasn't the light of the early morning that awoke her but the faint buzzing of her phone on the nightstand.

In the back of her mind, she wished that she had left it somewhere across the room, somewhere she wouldn't be able to hear it, but concern took over before regret could. She opened her eyes and looked around the room, registering her surroundings and their clothes strewn all over the floor. Her gaze caught on the now-ruined blouse forgotten at the foot of the bed, the torn-off buttons scattered around like small white pearls.

Smirking to herself, Diana rose up on her elbow and reached for her phone. Behind her, Steve shifted when she moved. He tightened his grip on her, and stretched over her and caught her hand, interlacing their fingers together before she picked up her phone and drawing it back.

"No," he muttered sleepily and tucked their hands against her chest, his face buried in her hair and his grip impressively strong. It didn't matter that she still could slip out of it without effort, Diana couldn't help but love the intent behind it anyway.

"It could be something important," she whispered, sinking back into the comfort of his embrace despite her better judgement, revelling in the weight of his body pressed against hers.

Steve brushed his lips to her bare shoulder, inching his way slowly toward her neck. "If it was important they'd just burst through the door."

"It's locked," Diana said. For that exact reason.

"Oh." He nuzzled into her neck, a smile in his voice. His lips pressed to a spot behind her ear. "Good."

She pulled her hand from his grasp and thrummed her fingers back and forth along his forearm, tempted to allow herself to disappear into an all-consuming bliss that she never wanted to end. All these years later, and she still couldn't quite figure out how it was war and destruction that gave her something as wonderful as this man who made her feel like she was alight from the inside. How something awful could turn into happiness beyond anything she could ever have imagined.

He was right about something else, too. If something bad had, in fact, happened, locked door or not, someone would have come knocking. Their tactfulness only went so far, and the thought soothed her. Behind her, Steve stretched and draped himself languidly over her, tugging her closer, his breath on her skin making Diana's chest constrict. His fingers trailed idly along her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, his intentions clear.

She shifted against him, rolling on her back to face him. Her smile stretched wider on a will of its own at the sight of his spectacular bedhead, her fingers itching to either smooth it down or mess it up even more - she wasn't sure. Oblivious to her thoughts, Steve smiled back, a little sleepy, a little playful, completely hers. Diana's heart squeezed fiercely with tenderness.

She reached for him, her palm sliding along his cheek, his stubble somehow both soft and prickly against her skin. Without wasting another second, Steve dipped his head to press his mouth to her neck, seemingly beyond excited to have better access to it.

"Morning," he murmured against her throat, his voice still hoarse with sleep but his lips moving with precision and purpose.

"Good morning," Diana breathed and thought, I could have a thousand years' worth of mornings like this and it would still never be enough.

His hand drifted down her sternum and toward her hip, his lips moving slowly across the valley of her chest with steady determination.

Desire stirred up in her belly, turning her blood into molten lava of need. After missing each other for decades, it was, perhaps, no surprise they both felt quite insatiable with one another now. Perhaps, she didn't want it to be any other way, not for a while.

Diana swept her hand through his hair. "Have I not worn you out?" she teased, struggling to stay focused and trying to figure out how much time they had before their absence became downright indecent. They had things to take care of, after all, and she had a distinct suspicion that this was the kind of issue that wouldn't go away on its own.

Steve glanced up at her and grinned, lopsided and cheeky, leaving her wanting to kiss that smile of his. To never stop kissing it. "Not possible."

She bit her lip against a pang of guilt, but his touch quelled it without much effort. She had spent a century protecting this world from itself, willingly and gladly and without wanting for anything in return, and she wasn't planning on stopping. It wasn't about pride or a sense of superiority, nor was it about proving anything to herself or her mother or her people. It was about devotion and purpose and peace and doing the right thing in the face of all wrongness that she would never be able to look away from.

There were parts of her that Diana was certain were made of nothing but scar tissue, her heart included. Parts she was proud of and wistful about in equal measure. Lately, she was starting to feel them again. The numbness inside of her coming to life. Did she not deserve these moments of happiness after all she had been through?

His mouth on her sternum, Steve traced the curve of her thigh with his fingers, moving dangerously close to having her pick up her phone and text everyone that they would both be otherwise occupied for the rest of the day, Lex Luthor be damned.

His name fell from her lips as nothing but a whoosh of breath. Steve hummed without stopping his explorations as he pressed a kiss just above her navel. Diana's eyes fluttered closed—

Her phone vibrated again.

She opened her eyes. They would come here if it was urgent, she reminded herself, but even Barry knew not to bother her without reason so persistently. It had to be important, then.

She caught Steve's face in her hands. He looked up at her, confused, his eyes hungry. She had never been this close to throwing caution to the wind—and her phone against a wall— and letting him have his way with her. Clearly, he either hadn't heard her phone or had made nothing of it. To be honest, she couldn't blame him for either.

He blinked, waiting for her to let go. Diana bit her lip, torn for a moment. And then steered him off of her and back onto his side of the bed.

Steve's eyes widened. "Wait, wait, wait, no!" he protested, adorably panicked, his eyes darting back to her body under the sheet. "I wasn't done," he finished in a sad voice.

Diana pressed her lips together around a smile, more amused than she was willing to admit by his attempt to tug her closer again, even though pushing against her hand on his shoulder was probably akin trying to move a brick wall. She had always admired the man's determination.

Her hand slid up his shoulder and curled over his cheek as she leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Later. I promise," she whispered, and he swallowed audibly.

With a sigh, she picked up her phone from the nightstand. A missed call and two texts, all from Bruce. She frowned, her finger moving over the screen as she scrolled through them. Meanwhile, using her distraction to his advantage, Steve leaned down, his mouth latching onto her collarbone.

"It's Bruce," Diana told him, turning her head to the side to give him better access to her throat, sound reasoning be damned. The fingers of her other hand scraped through his hair to keep his attention at least somewhat where she needed it. "He found something."

Steve hummed noncommittally, a little too preoccupied to care.

She hesitated for another moment, urging herself to remember the feeling of his touch, and then took a deep breath and slipped out of his grasp and out of the bed.

"Oh, come on…" he groaned as he landed face-first on her pillow. He looked up and she smirked at him over her shoulder. "That's mean."

Diana laughed. "I'll make it up to you," she promised.

Steve's gaze dipped down her body as he stared unabashedly at her. For a moment, she contemplated giving him something to look at. She liked having his eyes on her. Loved the way it would make her body feel hot all over. Enjoyed knowing that he desired her as much as she desired him, and that time hadn't seemed to have erased that.

His gaze drifted up slowly. He grinned at her when their eyes met, unashamed by his gawking. "You sure you don't want to come back to bed?" he asked innocently.

She watched him for a long moment, barely resisting the urge to climb back into his arms and love him again and again like she wanted to, until the black hole that his absence had left inside of her was gone without a trace. One day – one day very soon, Diana vowed silently to herself – there wouldn't be a tragedy to prevent or an exhibition to curate or phone calls to return, and they would do just that.

But today was not that day.

Diana shook her head, smiling, and stepped toward the bathroom. "I don't trust you to behave."

"To be fair, I wasn't planning to behave," Steve called after her.

She glanced at him and tilted her head, one eyebrow arched. "That I do believe." She paused. "Are you joining me?"

His brows pulled together for a second in comical confusion, and then realization dawned, and he tumbled out of bed with much less grace than she knew he was capable of, caught up in his own eagerness and still half tangled in the sheets.

That was not something he needed to be offered twice.

xoox

Steve figured they would find Bruce in the Batcave, and when Diana headed straight there he wasn't surprised, following her down the stairs without argument even if it meant forgoing coffee. And, maybe, if they could get this over with fast and there was nothing else on the docket, he and Diana could—

He didn't allow himself to venture any further than that.

However, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, the place appeared to be empty, the fluorescent lights casting an eerie white glow that gave the whole place a bluish hue.

Steve's gaze skittered around, taking in the ever-present glow of the screens and the gadgets strewn across the desks in various degrees of completeness. The prototypes that Bruce never stopped working on because there was nothing like making something better than it already was. Steve was about to suggest they go check elsewhere when something caught his eye. It turned out that they were not alone, after all. Sitting at Bruce's computer and staring intently at the screen was a woman with short dark hair, her expression curious but not troubled.

Diana noticed her at the same moment, her brows knitting together and slight tension creeping into her body.

The woman looked up when she noticed them out of the corner of her eye, her lips curving into a smirk.

She swung around on Bruce's chair to face them and crossed one leg over the other, her head tilted to her shoulder as she studied them with an unmasked interest that, Steve figured, would make a lot of people uncomfortable.

"Bruce told me he had people over," she said after a moment. Apprehensive, her gaze darted between the two of them before it fixed on Diana. "You must be Diana. He mentioned you." Her eyes drifted over to Steve next, a spark of curiosity flaring up in her gaze. "And you… he said nothing about."

"I'll do my best not to take it personally," Steve noted.

The realization hit hard and fast and when he least expected it. Even without the mask covering half of her face and the lack of cat ears and the clothes that didn't hug her like a second skin, as he had seen on the security footage, Selina Kyle wasn't hard to recognize. As the shock settled, Steve wondered absently if she'd be flattered or insulted if he told her just that. After all, the costume was meant to keep her identity secret.

Then again, no one else probably knew to look.

Her lips stretched into a wider, more genuine smile. "You shouldn't." She took note of the space between him and Diana, which was nonexistent, and his knuckles touching the back of Diana's hand. "Oh, I see. That explains it."

She stood up then, languid and lazy. It didn't escape Steve's attention that her eyes darted around as though to check for emergency exits and a possible retreat strategy. She didn't look like she felt threatened, but old habits—

"I'm Selina," she said and offered him her hand, and he had to bite his tongue around I figured. "Selina Kyle."

He shook it on autopilot. "Steve Trevor."

Her grip was firm. Solid. She didn't offer her hand to Diana, though. Only a nod.

"Is Bruce around?" Diana asked, not bothered by the breach of social protocol.

"Shower, I believe," Selina said. "It's been a long night."

Steve decided that he didn't want to know the details.

"I'm sure he'll be here any—" Selina started.

"I told you not to touch anything," Bruce's snarl cut her off.

Her smile slipped, and Steve barely resisted the instinct to look away, so private the scene unfolding in front of them felt. And he had a distinct gut feeling that this was a bad idea. His own relationship with Diana probably complicated things within the League whether they wanted it or not, and it was a good relationship. This, right here, was something ugly, something full of pent-up anger and unresolved pain, and he feared that if things got bad, all this tension, all this hurt could backfire for everyone involved. Badly.

"Do you work for Lex Luthor?" Diana asked, studying the other woman impassively.

"She doesn't work for anyone but herself," Bruce muttered under his breath.

Bruce might want to keep a second liquor cart here, strictly for situations like this one, Steve thought.

"Do you mind?" Selina arched an elegant eyebrow at him, and Bruce raised his hands, gesturing for her to continue. She turned to Diana. "I got a request several weeks ago. An email, believe it or not. Doesn't happen often." If she was going for a joke, it fell flat. She didn't seem to be bothered by it, though. "They were asking me to procure an artifact."

"To steal it, you mean?" Diana clarified.

"To get it any way I could," Selina countered. "If it was for sale on the black market or from a private collector, I'd buy it and charge them ten times what I paid for it."

"No wonder our economy is thriving," Steve breathed, earning an appreciative grin from her.

"As it turned out, it was being kept at a museum," she went on. "Whoever it was, they wired half of the fee to my account when I said yes with the other to be transferred once they had the item."

"Who was it from?" Diana asked, her brows knitted together.

"John Doe with a generic account that was deleted immediately after my response," Selina said, effectively squashing their hopes for any clues. Bruce's jaw clenched in disappointment. "I tracked it to a coffee shop in Sao Paulo which, technically, means they could have been sitting in a hotel across the road from my apartment and using some high-end router." She shrugged.

"Why would you track it?" Steve inquired.

"To cover my bases," she explained. "If something went wrong, I would have preferred to know who and what I was dealing with."

"Well, I hope you're happy to know now," Bruce murmured – a remark that remained disregarded.

He looked away when Diana shot him a sharp look.

"What happened next?" Diana asked.

Selina shrugged. "I did some digging, found out where the object was. The rest was… interesting." She smiled. "I've never had to sneak into a museum before."

Diana's hand twitched ever so slightly against his, and Steve all but heard the comment or two that she had to swallow – for the time being, at least.

"Did you know what it was?"

"No," Selina shook her head.

"Like hell you didn't," Bruce growled.

"I didn't," she pressed forcefully. "I knew it was valuable. To be some sort of a museum rarity it had to be. That was all I needed to know. The rest is rarely my business."

Diana regarded her without much pleasure. "What did you do with it?"

The other woman looked her square in the eye. "I was supposed to leave it in a private deposit cell in the Bank of Gotham. They sent me a code, in a text message from a blocked number. An hour after I delivered the item, the second half of the payment dropped into my account."

Bruce huffed. "Who was the sender?"

"A private bank in the Cayman Islands. Do you think they are stupid?"

He bristled. "You don't want to know what I think. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"It's good to see that some things never change," Alfred cut into what was a step away from becoming a blood bath, by the looks of it. He walked over to them, pushed some papers sitting on the desk aside and set down a tray before handing a mug of coffee to Bruce – and God knew, he looked like he needed it – and a cup of tea to Selina.

"Thank you, Alfred," she smiled and… patted him on the cheek, a familiarity that wasn't allowed even to Diana, Steve was willing to assume. Not that Diana was likely to try. "You're wonderful."

Steve pressed his lips together, trying to keep his smile at bay and expecting Alfred to brush her off, but he didn't. Instead, he looked rather pleased with the compliment and even slightly flustered, probably because Selina seemed to have meant it.

Alfred glanced at him and Diana then. "Ms. Prince, Captain Trevor, if I'd known—"

"It's okay, Alfred," Diana stopped him, smiling kindly.

"We're good," Steve echoed, even though some caffeine would have come in handy at that moment.

"Well, in that case…." Alfred started and trailed off.

"Why is everyone yelling?" Barry demanded as he strolled towards them. "Have you guys not heard of indoor—" He cut off and skidded to a halt when he spotted Selina. "Oh." And then his eyes widened. "Oh." His face lit up. "You're that cat lady!"

Bruce choked on his coffee, having to put down the mug as he coughed, lest he spilled its contents.

The speedster was observant, Steve had to give it to him.

Selina gave Barry a pointed once-over before turning to Bruce. "Are you recruiting on playgrounds now?"

Barry's cheeks flushed. "Hey, I'm older than I look!" He protested, indignant. "Maybe not as old as Di." His finger shot out to point at Diana. "She's practically ancient, and her guy here—"

"Mr. Allen?" Alfred stopped him. "A word of advice?" Confused, Barry looked at him and nodded reluctantly. "Should you ever choose to elevate your love life to a better status, I would recommend not referring to any woman as ancient, regardless of the context. Ever. You can't go wrong with avoiding that word in general."

"I didn't mean it like…" He sputtered and glanced at Diana, turning a darker shade of crimson. "I didn't mean it like—"

"It's fine, Barry," she promised before he launched into a half-hour explanation of what it was that he had been going for. Despite the gravity of the situation, Steve was certain that she was barely holding back her own laughter. He bit his lip, genuinely feeling bad for the guy.

It wasn't like he didn't have a point.

Barry cleared his throat and turned away, choosing to focus his attention on something else, his cheeks still burning. "Anyway..."

Bruce regarded Selina grimly. "I don't believe you."

She turned to set her cup back on the tray. "I don't care."

At that, Steve glanced at Diana, one eyebrow raised.

There was a certain degree of irony, he thought, that in this situation, when the whole world might be teetering on the brink of destruction – again – the truth was the one thing that they didn't have an issue with.

It took her a second to understand what he was trying to say without saying anything at all. The pause stretched between them, the decision completely in her hands.

Then, after a brief hesitation, she nodded. "Very well."

She cast another look at Selina, giving her a pointed once-over, before heading towards the elevator, not seeming particularly enthused when she left, but not arguing either.

It took her but a couple of minutes to go upstairs and come back with the Lasso in her hand. However, in that time Victor had made his appearance – something that couldn't go unnoticed. If Steve had to guess, there probably weren't many instances in Selina Kyle's life that left her somewhat slack-jawed. She certainly seemed like the type to forgo an outright sense of astonishment. Then again, Victor tended to have quite an effect on people. All things considered, she was taking their merry company remarkably well.

Diana walked over to her. "Raise your hands please," she asked, stopping before the other woman.

Selina turned to her, only then noticing the Lasso in her hands. Her eyebrows crept up and her lips curved into a knowing smile.

"Oh, you like that." Still, she obliged, lifting your wrists up. She glanced at Bruce. "You know, tying me up to keep me here wasn't part of the deal." And then, to Diana. "Will it hurt? Because I wouldn't mind—"

"Selina," Bruce cut her off, a warning in his voice.

Steve cleared his throat, feeling the back of his neck turn red. He had lived through the sex revolution, had seen everything there was to see, but he still never quite got used to people being so casual about it with strangers.

"Only if you lie," Diana responded as she wrapped the lasso several times around Selina's wrists. "Speak the truth and it won't."

The Lasso started to glow, faintly at first, and then brighter and brighter until it was almost too painful to look at.

Selina gasped and tried to step back and pull away, but to no avail. Not with Diana's hands holding the loose ends of it. Her eyes widened, the veneer of her nonchalance shattering. "What the hell is this?" she demanded, her voice cracking just enough to betray her fear.

"The Lasso of Hestia. It compels you to tell the truth," Diana explained calmly as the other woman stared at her. "Do you know Lex Luthor?"

"We've met," Selina said. She licked her lips nervously, her eyes darting between her bound wrists and Diana's face every few seconds.

Diana glanced at Bruce, briefly, before she focused on the other woman once more. "Do you work for him?"

"I don't work for anyone."

"Did you know what you were stealing from the Louvre?"

"Only that it was of value, maybe expensive. Maybe for another reason."

Diana tilted her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Do you mean us any harm?"

"No," Selina said through her teeth.

"Do you work for anyone who means us any harm?"

"No."

Steve noticed that Selina's fists were clenched so tight that her knuckles had gone white. He knew that it wouldn't help against the burning but she couldn't help it. Like he couldn't either, on the occasions when the Lasso had touched his skin. The human body was funny that way.

He was only bound against his will once, nearly a century ago in the throne room on Themyscira, the Lasso clutched tightly in Menalippe's hands and burning right through his shirt. At that moment, he had been sure that they would kill him right there and then, if not with that glowing rope that filled his brain with fog, then with their swords or a rain of arrows. He had tried to go still and rigid against the pain then, too, even though it didn't work, the only relief was through the words of truth tumbling out of his mouth, each lessening the burning across his chest.

The second time he had experienced the effects of this powerful weapon – and there truly was no other word for it, if he was being honest – was on that night in Berlin when Diana requested the proof of his identity, but he was too angry with her, too hurt and too confused, and too mad at both of them at that moment to take note of the effects of the ancient magic.

After that, years later, Diana had bound him once upon his request, under entirely different circumstances, and the way it felt was nothing like he had ever experienced, although now wasn't the right time to remember that night.

He took in an unsteady breath.

Diana glanced at him but said nothing, although he wondered if she knew what it was that he was thinking of now.

"Do you plan to betray us?" she asked Selina.

Selina's gaze darted toward Bruce. She winced. "Haven't decided yet."

"Well, at least she's being honest," Victor muttered.

"Do you know where the Claw of Horus is now?" Diana went on.

"No, I told you," she shook her head. "I left it in the deposit box the night I came back to Gotham."

There was a moment of hesitation before Diana's hand reached to free Selina's hands.

Barry's arm shot into the air. "I've got one."

Everyone turned to him. After a second, Diana nodded for him to go ahead.

He cleared his throat and wiggled his finger between Selina and Bruce. "What happened between you guys?"

"Bruce has commitment issues," Selina responded immediately. "Although he's always been good in—"

"That's enough," Bruce cut her off.

He marched over to where the women were standing and yanked the Lasso off Selina's wrists. He hissed and let go of it when it burned his hand, and it coiled itself promptly back in Diana's hands, steadily losing its glow. Diana walked over to stand by Steve, and he reached to brush his fingers against hers.

"Well, that was informative," Barry breathed, rubbing the back of his head.

"A little too informative," Alfred noted dryly.

Bruce's gaze swept the room and the people standing around them. He turned to Selina who was rubbing her skin, even though it remained unscathed. "You have to help us."

She looked up at him. "I don't have to do anything, Bruce," she said calmly. "I don't owe you a single thing. Not anymore."

"It's not about me." His jaw set tautly, his gaze heavy. "Whose fault is it that all of this is happening in the first place?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Are you serious right now? Do you really want to start assigning blame? Because I'd be happy—"

"I'll pay," he interjected.

Wrong thing to say. Even Barry winced, watching Selina's face harden, tuning into a stone-cold mask. When she spoke, her voice was measured, ringing ever so slightly with barely contained fury. Steve suspected this wasn't the first time Bruce had said something that severed the thread of civility between him and that woman.

"I think I would prefer to remain the one thing that you can never buy."

It was Bruce's turn to grimace. When she turned on her heel and headed towards the elevator, he didn't try to stop her.

"What'd you do to piss her off?" Barry inquired once she was gone, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled around them, and it was hard to tell whether the question was rhetorical or not.

"What didn't he do?" Alfred muttered all the same, shaking his head and regarding Bruce without a trace of fondness.

Bruce turned to the two them, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked pointedly.

"Nope," Barry shrugged.

"Not at the moment, no," Alfred responded dismissively.

Steve leaned closer to Diana and whispered into her ear, "He has found something alright."

xoox

"I thought you left."

Diana stepped onto the deck bathed in the late November sun, her every breath puffing out in small white clouds. She squinted in the sunlight that seemed all the much brighter after the pale fluorescent glow of the halogen lamps down in the Batcave and inhaled the cold smell of the pines that were framing the lake stretching out before them. There was a frost on the grass and the air smelled distinctly of snow, even though no trace of the snowfall a few weeks ago was left on the ground.

She took another deep breath, feeling the chill snake down her windpipe and coat her lungs from the inside. Not an altogether unpleasant feeling.

A hundred years in man's world, and she never ceased to be amazed by the change of seasons, of weather that wasn't frozen in a state of perpetual summer. She missed her home, sometimes to an ache deep in her very soul, but there were things that she knew she would miss dearly had they been taken away from her. Many of her sisters never knew any different, and never would see the foliage turn golden and then green again, and she wondered, absently, if one could miss something they never knew.

"Bruce has my car keys." Selina wrapped her jacket tighter around her body and shivered in the frigid wind but didn't look away from the water that was impossibly still and so smooth it looked solid. "I suppose I could have hotwired it. Or maybe one of his cars. You know, to get on his last nerve." She looked like she was contemplating the idea for a moment as Diana paused beside her. "Then again, you and your Captain Blue Eyes seemed to have that covered."

Diana glanced at her, an eyebrow quirked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

The corners of Selina's mouth turned upward ever so slightly, but there was no humour there. "One needs to be blind not to see that Bruce would rather have you keep his bed warm rather than… what was his name, again?"

Diana's gaze shifted back to the lake as her hands curled around the metal railing circling the deck. "Steve. I'm sure you heard his name fine the first time around."

"You are a peculiar one, indeed," Selina mused. "You don't believe me," she said after a moment, without a hint of accusation in her voice. "None of you do. Even after that rope thing—whatever it was, you still don't believe that I'm telling the truth."

"I have no reason to," Diana didn't argue. "Bruce told us about your—"

"Hobbies. I'm sure he did." She didn't sound surprised or offended. "What else did he say?"

"Why did you come if you weren't going to help?" Diana asked, ignoring the question.

"If a man forgot to return your calls for five years and then suddenly came to seek you out in the middle of the night, wouldn't you be curious?" Selina turned to her, genuinely interested.

"Depends on the man," Diana responded honestly.

Zeus only knew what she would have done if Steve came looking for her sometime in the past sixty-seven years. Would she care about his motives? His reasons? Would she listen to him or walk away if she knew that it wasn't her that he came for? Those were the questions she had no answers to. Never would.

Were Bruce's feelings really that transparent, she wondered. No one ever said anything to her, but they didn't need to. Alfred had to have noticed. He never made a secret out of more or less hoping for a certain development in their relationship even though he was tactful enough to refrain from being overt about it. Clark was observant but he would never speak of something like that. Not unless Diana asked. She hoped the rest of them remained oblivious.

Bruce was a good person despite his adamant attempts to make it look otherwise. She respected him as a fighter and cared for him as a friend. But she was desperately and madly in love with another man, had been for so long that she could no longer remember what it felt like not to carry him in her heart. It wasn't a matter of choice. She had made hers a century ago, and she would make it again and again for as long as they both lived. Not that Bruce ever asked. Not that she gave him any reason to. There was hope in him, though. But it was easier for Diana to pretend that she couldn't see it when her feelings for someone else were on display.

"I don't know anything," Selina spoke. She'd been standing there long enough for her cheeks and the tip of her nose to turn pink. "If I knew I would have told you. Believe it or not, Bruce is a friend."

"Is he?"

"He is not the enemy," she amended. "Is it not the same thing?"

"You'd be surprised," Diana murmured.

The line was thin but it was there nonetheless. It was about loyalty, and the lengths people would go for a friend but not someone who merely wasn't their foe. Whatever the history was between Bruce and this woman, Diana was certain that they had been on the same side of that line at some point. She knew her way around the house. She clearly cared for Alfred and he cared for her. And despite the interrogation she had been put through, she all but felt at home in a situation where others would panic. She clearly knew about the secret side of Bruce's life, and that spoke of trust more than any words ever could.

But somewhere along the way, something went wrong and whatever held them together had fallen to pieces. Now the question was whether or not it was a good idea to mix it into what they were already dealing with.

Selina exhaled slowly. "Whatever I have done, I have never intentionally hurt anyone."

Diana nodded, choosing to hold her judgement for the time being. "Would you still steal the Claw of Horus if you knew what it was?"

Selina's lips quirked. "I would have covered my tracks better."

Diana smiled, despite herself. She was hardly in her right to have an opinion but Bruce sure knew how to get in trouble. Still, she turned to face the other woman. "Why?"

Selina shrugged, clearly amused. "To avoid this conversation, maybe?"

"No, why are you doing it?"

"For fun."

Diana regarded her pensively. Bruce had said that Selina Kyle meant no harm, and Diana believed him. He could lie to Barry and Alfred and Clark and the rest of them, but he was not in a habit of lying to her even if his reasoning was flawed. She believed that he had meant what he said. Didn't mean that it was true, though.

"Surely it's not the only way to have fun," she noted after a moment.

Selina turned to face her properly, her head tilted to her shoulder. "Bruce is leaping from rooftop to rooftop in a bat suit. Whatever it is that you and the rest of all you people do… do you think you are in a position to judge?"

"It's not about the thrill," Diana said. "Not for everyone."

"Then maybe you're doing it wrong."

---

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated! :)