Author's note: Hey guys, just wanted to thank you all again for sticking around and reading this story for... over 3 years now. Wow. We're getting close, I promise!
The morning greeted Steve as the bright light of the cold autumnal sun reflected off the waters of the lake and streamed through the glass wall that was still fogged up at the bottom where the rays had not yet reached. It felt uncomfortably harsh to his eyes.
He groaned in protest and blinked at the ceiling, trying to find his bearings, confused momentarily about where he was. His shoulder throbbed, pain trickling along his arm and under the brace on his wrist that felt uncomfortably tight. Steve ran his hand over his face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and looked around.
The previous night was a blur, and he didn't trust his memory of it. He vaguely recalled waking up sometime after midnight, the dull ache in his broken rib too much to bear. Remembered Diana whispering to him in the dark, the soothing words that were not as important as the sound of her voice or her hand stroking his hair until he had drifted off once more. But it all felt fragmented and out of place somehow, and he wondered if maybe he had dreamt it, after all. Either was equally possible.
His gaze swept over the room, a sigh stuttering out of his chest. Diana was not there. The sheets still smelled like her, like sunshine and something floral, but it was a weak consolation in the wake of her absence. Steve wondered what time it was and tried to remember if she had mentioned last night where she was going but all he could recall was the warmth of her body pressed to him as he slept, filling him with a sense of safety.
He sat up with a grunt, his ribs unhappy but the discomfort bearable. His phone sitting on the bedside table was dead, and now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had bothered to charge it. It had been long enough for it to give up. However, sitting next to it he noticed a note, Diana's familiar handwriting gracing a piece of notepad paper.
Be back before you know it. Rest. I love you.
Steve smiled. He reread it a few times, eyes following the easy curve of the letters, before setting it back down.
If anyone had ever told him that one day he would be grinning like a lovesick moron over a two-line message, he would have laughed them in the face. Then again, if anyone had ever told him that he would fall madly in love with a goddess and that she would love him back just as fiercely, he wouldn't have believed that either. Go figure.
He dressed gracelessly, wishing that Diana was there to help him with the buttons. And zippers. And laces. At least he could grimace his way through the daunting process without having to worry about her concerns, Steve thought, wishing that he didn't feel like he had been run over by a tank. A few times. What little was still left of his dignity had apparently been shot in the head and left behind on that goddamned plaza two nights ago. He hoped that he could at least get a cup of coffee for his troubles.
The house was quiet when he stepped out of their room, the space bathed in the early morning sunlight that left streaks of shadows on the polished floors.
For a moment, Steve thought that maybe no one was around, but then his eyes caught two dark forms in the hallway by the front door, tucked away where the light could barely reach them.
Bruce Wayne stood with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants, his shoulders slumped slightly forward, and his gaze cast down. Before him stood Selina Kyle. Steve couldn't hear the words that were being said, but even from twenty feet away, he could see the small smile on Batman's face and the curious tilt of Catwoman's head. And truth be told, seeing Bruce look slightly out of his element was an indulging image indeed.
And then Selina lifted her hand and placed it on Bruce's shoulder as she leaned forward.
Steve didn't stay to see the rest. He looked away, feeling his cheeks flush, and ducked into the kitchen before either of them spotted him, the moment suddenly too private for him to bear witness to it.
Arthur was sitting at the table, a plate piled with food before him. He looked up from it when Steve walked in, giving him an appraising look, his eyes lingering for a moment too long on Steve's face, and another one on the brace wrapped around his wrist.
"You look like shit, Trevor," he noted around a mouthful of eggs.
Steve swallowed a smile. "Hope that's not something you say to your wife first thing in the morning."
Arthur regarded him before biting into a sausage. "My wife's prettier than you are."
And from what Steve had heard about Mera from Diana, she was also the only person capable of successfully keeping the King of the Seven Seas in check. Having met Arthur, Steve was beyond curious to make acquaintance with his better half.
"Had it worse," he noted dismissively, choosing not to take the other man's comment close to heart.
"Is the cat lady gone?" Arthur asked, waving his fork in the general direction of the hallway.
"Just about." Steve pressed his lips together. "I think it's Catwoman."
Arthur blinked at him, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. "What's the difference?"
"The difference is that you don't repeat that to her face," Bruce cut in before Steve could decide if trying to explain that particular nuance to the Atlantian was worth the effort.
Arthur hummed, unfazed. "Wasn't gonna." Before mumbling under his breath, "Wouldn't want to have my face scratched."
His gaze shifted from Bruce to Steve and back to Bruce and whatever it was that he saw it made him bite back his next comment. He cleared his throat and pushed his chair back, legs scraping along the tiled floor as he stood up.
"I think I'm gonna go find Barry," he muttered. He looked like he was going to add something else but then he merely picked up his place and disappeared down the hallway.
Steve wished he'd stay.
His relationship with Batman was tense on the best of days, before they had started throwing punches. What it was now he had no idea, and he wondered absently how the scene he had witnessed a few minutes ago was fitting into this mess. Clearly, the situation and Bruce's feelings for Diana weren't as black and white as Steve had first assumed, but in all honesty, he also didn't think he wanted to dwell on it if he could help it.
Except he still wasn't sure where it left him and Bruce, exactly.
He was about to follow Arthur's example and find a way to escape when Bruce moved towards the coffee maker. He glanced at Steve.
"You look like shit."
Steve hummed. "Yeah, so I've heard. It looks worse than it feels."
He chose not to point out that the other man didn't look much better either. If nothing else, Bruce appeared to be utterly exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed and the shadow of the two-day stubble coating his cheeks hiding the swelling from Steve's fist meeting his jaw. Although the cut running across his cheek was someone else's doing, Steve thought.
A corner of Bruce's mouth twitched, his lips twisting into a smirk. "Coffee?" he offered.
After a moment of hesitation, Steve nodded. Might as well see this through.
"Thanks."
Bruce handed one mug to Steve and reached for the second one for himself.
"I guess I owe you an apology," he said after a moment. Steve looked up at him, surprised. "For the other night," Bruce added as he rubbed his chin, his eyes cast down, and he heaved a sigh. "I crossed the line. I shouldn't have said what I said."
"It's not me you should be making amends with," Steve said, his palm curled over his mug.
"Diana." Bruce nodded. "We spoke." He cleared his throat but didn't say anything else.
Steve didn't press for more. If she wanted to tell him how that conversation went, she would.
"What you did the other night, for Amanda Waller—" Bruce began after a moment, his words measured.
"—was something I would have done for anyone," Steve interjected.
He didn't expect gratitude, not from Amanda Waller and not from Bruce Wayne. The woman was a psychopath, to put it mildly. The things he had heard about her would be enough, he suspected, to make someone else look the other way if they had been in his place. She was ruthless, unpredictable, and dangerous in every way he could think of. Steve didn't like her, and he didn't trust her, and objectively, the League would have been better off with her gone—one way or another.
The only problem was that he had done that before. Followed orders and looked the other way, turned his back on something ugly because someone told him to do so. That was the pain and loss and grief that would haunt him for as long as he breathed, lurking in the back of his mind, occasionally hidden but never forgotten. Nameless lives that didn't deserve what had come for them. Maybe Amanda Waller didn't deserve another chance, but Steve was not going to be the one to rob her off it. He could barely live with what he had already done. He couldn't imagine making his worst choices all over again, if only for his own selfish reasons.
Not that he was going to explain any of that to Bruce who was watching him curiously right now. Steve wasn't sure that Bruce believed him, but he didn't argue.
Steve wondered, then, if there would ever come a day when he would regret his decision.
He chose to not think of it until that moment came. He would cross that bridge when he had to.
"You are good," Bruce said suddenly. "At what you do. You're really good, Captain."
"Steve," Steve corrected him automatically. Somehow, coming from anyone but Alfred who appeared to not fancy first names much, the formality sounded almost ludicrous.
Bruce didn't seem to have heard him.
"Ever since Amanda Waller unearthed you from wherever you had been hiding all this time, I was hoping that you wouldn't be. I was hoping the League wouldn't need you." It was perhaps the least flattering thing Steve had ever heard in his life. But, coming from Bruce Wayne, it also seemed to be the sincerest one, too, which intrigued Steve greatly. "But you are, and we do."
He didn't look particularly thrilled about it, Steve noted. For someone who was used to being right, wrong judgement wasn't the easiest thing to admit. In another situation, Steve would have probably felt a smug satisfaction over this confession, from a man who he still was mildly jealous of, if only on the small, petty level where his ego resided. Like he knew he would always be jealous of every partner Diana had had in the time that they were apart, even those that Steve would never know of.
With Bruce, it was worse, and more personal, on more levels than Steve could think of, but he also would never forget that Diana didn't choose Batman. She chose a lonely spy for whom she had always been a beacon of hope, and maybe, because of that, the complacency over Bruce's confession didn't come.
Which felt, surprisingly, like a start.
"But you need Diana more," Steve said, guessing where Bruce was going. A statement, not a question.
"Yes," Bruce agreed easily.
"I would never ask her to leave the League, if that's what you're worried about. Would never ask her to choose between me and all that you do," he said.
Bruce regarded him for a moment, and this time, there was unmasked doubt in his eyes. Like he was still expecting Diana to say her farewells any moment now and never come back. Like he had been expecting her to do that ever since Steve had appeared in her life again.
"I don't think you would need to ask," Bruce said carefully. He took another sip of his coffee, and only then did it occur to Steve that this wasn't an idle chat, but an honest to god fear that had found a home under Batman's skin.
Steve shook his head. "What Diana does is not up to me. She is her own master, you should know that."
To be fair, he suspected that more often than not, stopping a freight train would be easier than changing Diana's mind about something. Right now, however, they were not talking about the League. Not really. This was personal, and however delicately Bruce tried to dance around it, Steve doubted that they could undo what had happened and pretend that nothing had changed.
Bruce's eyebrows lifted.
"I will not speak for her," Steve added. "She does what she thinks is right. I was not here to see why she joined the League, but I see why she chose to stay. Diana has a lot of respect for you—all of you. It would not be smart of you to lose that over—"
Jealousy. He didn't say that, shrugging a little instead.
Bruce smirked. "You know, I don't think anyone ever called me an idiot quite so… politely."
The corners of Steve's mouth tugged upward and he hid a smile behind his mug as he sipped his coffee. "Well, some might say that I'm a man out of time."
He meant what he said, though. Diana was fond of them, her affection for each member of the League running deeper than they thought or could imagine. She was proud of them too, of what they were doing and of being part of the team, that pride shining brighter than the sun when she spoke of them. However, Bruce's concern wasn't entirely unreasonable. He might have brought them together, but she was the one for whom they had stayed, and Bruce knew that, they all did. To lose that would mean losing everything they had built, and while Steve would never have gotten in the way, he didn't think it would be up to him to stop her if she chose to take Bruce's accusation close to heart.
"I wouldn't have blamed her," Bruce said after a moment, as if reading his mind.
Deep down, Steve knew he wouldn't have blamed her, either.
"She is a much better person than you give her credit for," Steve said simply.
"I don't think that's possible." Bruce stared into his mug for a long while before raising his eyes to Steve.
They drank their coffee in silence for a couple of minutes.
"What's going to happen now?" Steve asked eventually. "To Lex Luthor."
"Solitary. I think Waller will make sure that Arkham Asylum triples its security and adds an extra lock on Lex's door," Bruce said, although he didn't sound very convinced, if the small frown that he tried to mask was any indication. Either not trusting her, or not trusting Lex. Bruce checked his watch, his brows pulling together for a moment, and then he looked up again. "We'll debrief when everyone else is here."
Steve nodded.
"As far as everyone is concerned," Bruce added, "Lex had nothing to do with the explosions. To drag him into it would be to reveal too much—about the Claw of Horus, about Selina—and for Waller to come across as incompetent in keeping her city in check would be the end of her career. Lex will be punished for his escape but not anything else. She wouldn't have it otherwise."
Steve felt his jaw clench. He glanced away, trying to quell the anger rising inside of him. A hundred years later, and nothing had changed. Those at power still pulled the strings and played them all however they pleased.
"Waller's decision?" he asked.
"She has her hands tied," Bruce shook his head, his expression one of disgust.
"That does not sound very good for the League," Steve mused.
Bruce shrugged. "We were there. She won't dig her own grave by going against us now. Not even she is devoid of that sliver of gratitude."
Steve didn't argue, but he was not convinced.
Bruce glanced into his empty mug and then raised his eyes to Steve.
"I suppose you and I can figure out a way to play nice with one another," he said after a moment, which, to Steve's mind, was the closest thing to a truce offering he might get. Bruce smirked a little when he held out his hand. "For the greater good."
Steve thought of a thousand words he could have said to Bruce Wayne right now. He thought of how there would most likely always be a foul feeling between them, even after a while, even when they would be convinced that all their disagreements were dead and gone, and every now and then it would flare up and make them both see red. He thought, for just a moment, what it would be like to walk away from this all and never look back, and was tempted to say just that.
Instead, he gripped Batman's hand and gave it a firm shake.
"I'd like that."
"Captain Trevor," a voice came from behind, as Alfred appeared in the kitchen, a plate that must have been Arthur's—empty now—in his hand. "It's good to see you up and about."
He paused, his eyebrow lifting ever so slightly when he saw Bruce. "Master Wayne." For a moment, his eyes moved between two men. He looked like he was going to say something, but what came out was, "Would you like to have some breakfast?"
Bruce reached for the pot to refill his mug. "I think I'm going to take this downstairs to finish something—Thank you, Alfred."
The older man nodded. He turned to Steve when Bruce walked out of the kitchen, his steps echoing in the corners and bouncing off the panelled walls.
"Captain?"
"Hm?" Steve turned to him. He set his empty mug down on the counter and rubbed his forehead. "No, thank you, Alfred. I'm—" An idea struck him then. "Actually…"
"Have something on your mind, Captain Trevor?"
Steve nodded and muttered, "A visit to an old friend."
xoox
A sip of scotch, the good kind, burned its way down Amanda Waller's throat, making her grimace. She had never been a supporter of day drinking—or morning drinking, for that matter—but desperate times called for desperate measures, or however that saying went. In the aftermath of Luthor's escape, the Arkham Asylum was under investigation and she had to take it on good faith that, this time, he would be locked away for good.
Good faith and a great deal of security improvement—she doubted that only one of them would do the trick.
Thirty-six hours after the showdown in front of City Hall, and she was still nursing a headache the size of Texas and had her heart clenching every time a car backfired outside—both things maddening in their own way. Amanda's fingers curled tight around the glass as she debated finishing her drink in one gulp or pouring it out and going back to trying to tackle the aftermath of Lex Luthor's antics with a clear(er) head. Truth be told, she wasn't sure which way it would be less of a nightmare.
Unsympathetic, her superiors were on her case about the details of the stunt that Lex had pulled. They wanted an investigation and they wanted to keep the incident buried as deeply as possible, for it was throwing serious shade on both A.R.G.U.S. and the Department of Homeland Security, and she didn't know how to do both. Not when Justice League was involved. She was beginning to feel like she was failing, again. It was, perhaps, no surprise that her head was pounding and that the egg-sized bump on the back of her skull had nothing to do with it. How they wanted her to sweep the explosions under the rug she had no idea, but it was in her best interests to figure that out. Pronto. Preferably before lunch.
And if that wasn't bad enough, Catwoman was back in town. Just as Amanda had started to believe that maybe Gotham had gotten too small for someone like Selina Kyle, who did not like to be bored. How Amanda was supposed to even begin cleaning up this mess was beyond her.
Perhaps, day drinking was justified, after all.
When her intercom buzzed and her secretary told her that she had a visitor, Amanda realized that she was too tired to keep deflecting the blows coming her way. At least it wasn't one her superiors, she mused. As they didn't bother with announcing themselves. Or knocking, for that matter.
Waller set her glass on the liquor tray sitting on the cabinet behind her desk and swivelled around in her chair just as none other than Steve Trevor walked into her office. Perhaps the mess that Lex had caused could wait a few minutes.
"Captain Trevor," she said dryly when the door closed behind Steve. "What a pleasant surprise."
His eyebrow quirked.
"What a surprise," she amended. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She took him in, her gaze sweeping over the bulky wrist brace peeking from the sleeve of his jacket, the bruise adorning his left cheekbone and, if she was not mistaken, there were stitches peeking from under a sweep of his hair. She didn't need to ask or wonder what the hell had happened to him, her own slight limp and the sizable hematoma that she had yet to explain to her husband a good enough answer. At least for the time being.
"We need to talk," Steve said.
"I don't suppose you came for a thank you?" Waller cocked her head, watching him speculatively.
Thanks to the blow to her head when Lex had seized her, her memories of what had followed were slightly blurred, which felt equally merciful and infuriating. She did remember Steve Trevor cutting the binds on her wrists though, feeling his breath on her neck as he did. He had helped her even though he didn't have to. She suspected he wasn't thrilled about it, either. And so far, Waller couldn't decide if it earned him some points or made him weak in her eyes.
If he did, in fact, come for tearful gratitude, he was in for some serious disappointment.
Steve walked over to the bookcase lining one of the walls, his eyes scanning the spines of the books.
"No offence, but you don't strike me as an overly grateful person," he muttered, without looking at her.
"None taken," she said flatly, leaning back in her chair as she watched him, wishing she had finished that drink. "Does your girlfriend know that you're here?"
It would be unfortunate if Diana Prince was the next one to burst through her doors, wielding her sword and that rope thing, determined to rescue her long-suffering beau. Entertaining as it sounded, Amanda didn't have the time for it. If she could avoid thinking of or seeing the Justice League altogether until dealing with Luthor's mess was done with, she'd be quite happy.
"Have you read all these?" Steve asked, ignoring her question.
"She doesn't," Amanda nodded to herself. "I supposed she wouldn't have been thrilled."
Her own memory of her one-on-one encounter with Diana Prince was still uncomfortably fresh in her mind. The nights following it, she had kept waking up with a burning sensation around her wrists, unable to tell her dreams from reality and scared that she would find her skin blistered and peeling off her bones. There was never a mark on her upon waking, of course, but the unease over not being in control of her own mind had not quite gone away.
Amanda was not used to being scared. Not of the superheroes and not of those they opposed, but the memory of being completely at a mercy of something that she had no understanding of frightened her more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.
Which made her wariness of Steve Trevor all the more irritating. She did not want to consider this man a threat, regardless of who he was rolling in the sheets with.
"They're not going to fall for any of your tricks," Steve said, turning around. With the light filtering through the window behind her, he looked more worn out than she had first thought. It wasn't the brace, or the bruises. There was something in his eyes… Something that only someone who had spent a century stuck in a perpetual fighting mode would bear.
"The Justice League," she echoed, lips pressing together into a thin line. "Did Bruce Wayne tell you that? Are you here on his request?"
Wouldn't that be hilarious?
Steve's lips twitched without humour. "Come on, you gotta understand that they are not going to dance to your tune, no matter what you do." He paused, watching her. "You know as well as I do that you will gain nothing from being enemies with them."
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him across the expanse of her desk. There was a report still waiting to be written on her laptop and a meeting she was already late for, and a million and a half other things that she needed to take care of if she wanted to go home before midnight tonight. She didn't have time for this, for a lecture from a man who had been running from himself longer than she had been alive.
"Is this why you're here, Captain?" she snorted. "To make peace?"
"We're not at war, Director," Steve pointed out.
"Maybe not from where you're standing," Waller replied.
"Then maybe you should take a step back and get a better look."
"Need I remind you that you have a contract with the US Government and that failure to comply can lead to drastic consequences? For everyone, I must add."
Steve, who was fiddling with a miniature Statue of Liberty that someone had given Amanda at some point, and that had been gathering dust on the shelf since then, put it down. He chuckled, shaking his head a little as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"And who exactly would benefit from it?" he asked.
She sighed, the mother of all headaches starting to build behind her eyes, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Why are you here, Captain?"
"Diana told me about the photo. About Lex Luthor and how you had tracked me down."
Waller figured she would. Diana Prince's reputation preceded her, and while Amanda didn't necessarily appreciate Wonder Woman's adamant desire to keep peace at all cost, knowing full well that just a little bit of instilled fear sometimes did a much better job, she respected it nonetheless. She also suspected that someone who fought for the truth would not keep secrets from her lover.
She didn't say anything, merely watched him, waiting.
"What I want to know is why?" Steve said after a moment.
"A hunch," Waller said honestly, surprising them both, if Steve Trevor's lifted eyebrow was any indication. "How are you alive, Captain Trevor? After all this time, looking like…" She trailed off and waved her hand at him.
"To be fair, today's not my best day," he chuckled under his breath.
"Don't be coy. It doesn't suit you."
"Really? I heard quite the opposite."
"From Wonder Woman, I presume?"
"I don't think Diana has ever called anyone coy," Steve noted, the lightness of his voice, the easiness with which he said Diana almost grating to Amanda's ears. Possessiveness mixed with affection. In her time of being aware of Wonder Woman's existence, Waller had never attributed those things to her.
She wasn't sure she wanted to start doing it now.
When she had first seized Lex's files, the whole point of her quest was to be a step ahead of Luthor—whatever that meant—as he wasn't particularly cooperative, even at the worst of times. It didn't surprise her, but she was intrigued nonetheless. When it turned out that Steve Trevor was alive and well, all things considered, she merely wanted to ruffle some feathers and stir the peace within the League, throw them off because nothing else could, it seemed. She had not been planning on reuniting Diana Prince with her long-lost boyfriend, and had she known what she was walking in on, Waller would have thought twice before handing Trevor over to the Justice League.
So much she should have and would have done differently, if only she could turn back the time.
"You're good at deflecting," Waller noted, more to herself than to him.
He would have made an excellent agent, had their paths crossed differently, she thought. It was no surprise, the man's war records were an ode to his excellence.
"They didn't make me a spy for my looks," he shrugged, unfazed.
"Not for your modesty, either," Waller said flatly.
The corner of Steve's mouth curled upwards.
"I looked for you because I thought that you were like her—"
"There's no one like her," he interjected.
"—and if you were, then maybe they were others, too. You know, pulling one thread and unravelling the whole picture."
"I don't think you're going to believe me if I say that there is no one else."
Waller regarded him without much pleasure. "This is no longer about me. Not anymore, hasn't been for a very long time. It's about politics and accountability. The Justice League is a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Every single one of those people is capable of wiping out half of the planet if they so wished." Steve opened his mouth to protest but she raised her hand and continued, "There is a very fine line between admiration and fear, Captain. You have seen what it can be like, what kind of power can people wield over those they want to control."
"No one in the League wants to control anyone," he shook his head, his expression disgusted.
"My job is not to coddle metahumans," Waller interjected. "My job is to make the people of America, and the world, for that matter, feel safe. I don't believe they do, seeing as how the Capitol building blew up around Superman on national television." She paused for emphasis, waiting for her words to sink in. "What if Victor Stone decided to crack the nuclear codes just because he can? What if Diana Prince tripped and accidentally knocked a building down—"
"Don't be absurd," Steve snorted.
"What if," she continued, "Superman forgot himself again? You were not here, but Metropolis still remembers. I don't believe they've finished fixing the damage he caused."
He didn't say anything, merely watching her, his eyebrows pulled together.
Amanda Waller didn't care if she was selling this pitch. For once, she was being open because she was sick of hearing those same words coming out of other people's mouths.
"I'm not talking about total control," Waller finished. "I'm talking about cooperation."
"It's not the way they see it."
She shook her head. "If you came here to negotiate a better deal, you're wasting your time. And mine."
Steve glanced down at his brace before saying blandly. "Actually, I came to find out if my medical leave is covered."
Waller pressed her lips together into a thin line. "This is not over, Captain Trevor. Your heroics the other night change nothing."
"You're making a mistake," Steve said, his voice tired, before he sighed and headed for the door.
"It can't work any other way," Waller called after him but he never turned back.
xoox
Diana pulled the glass door open and stepped out from the warmth of the lake house and onto the back deck, the cold wind tugging at her hair and whipping it against her cheeks. The wind was snaking under her jacket, although not altogether unpleasant against her skin. She stepped off the deck and followed the path that had been long trodden across the lawn.
In the dying light of the early dusk, Steve was standing on a patch of grass bordering the thin strip of sand that circled the lake, his eyes trained on the still water that reflected the dark wall of trees on the far shore, barely distinguishable now that the sun was gone and the sky was growing darker with each passing moment. His good hand was tucked into the pocket of his pants, his hair tousled.
She slowed down, her footsteps soundless on the dirt path, and like almost every time her eyes had landed on him since the moment he came back, she was overcome with unadulterated wonder. The same feeling that had her watching him sleep when she couldn't find her own rest, as if her mind still couldn't quite grasp the reality of the two of them coming full circle and finding one another again in a world where it was so easy to get lost.
Her heart squeezed fiercely in her chest, a familiar pang that made her wonder if she was ever going to look at him and not feel like she was still dreaming.
Behind her, the house was alive with conversations flowing in every room and food cooking in the kitchen, the liveliness of it an almost overwhelming contrast to the devastation that they had had to deal with only a couple nights ago. It was no surprise, perhaps, to find Steve here, away from all the noise of people milling around and talking over one another.
Diana stepped towards him and slipped her arms around Steve from behind, turning her head to press a kiss to his neck.
"Hi," she murmured into his skin, feeling him relax against her instantly.
"Hi," Steve breathed, turning his head slightly to rest his cheek against her forehead. He clasped his good hand around her forearm, his thumb running over the sleeve of her jacket. "Where've you been all day?"
Diana felt the corners of her lips tug up slightly. She nuzzled into a spot behind his ear. "Saving the world."
He chuckled, the sounds of it rumbling out of his chest and reverberating into her body.
"Figures. Always having fun without me."
"I have plenty of fun with you," she whispered in his ear, smiling at the slight hitch of his breath. At the way he cleared his throat to cover it, undoubtedly grateful that they were alone.
"As long as you have more fun with me…" He trailed off, his voice amused.
"Always," Diana murmured. "Are you cold? It's freezing out here."
Steve ran his fingers up and down her forearm.
"Not anymore."
She tightened her grip on him, mindful of his broken bones, and kissed the side of his throat again. He smelled like Steve again—his aftershave and her soap and something that she remembered all the way from Veld. Steve. So unlike her much-hated memory from two nights ago when it was mostly rain and dirt and blood on his skin, and none of the things that she found comfort in.
"Good."
And it was, she realized. It was good to hold him and not be afraid of losing him, a thought that disappeared when he was so close she could feel his heart beat against her chest.
Diana rested her chin on his shoulder, her gaze following Steve's that was still glued to the lake.
"I spoke with Bruce today," she said quietly.
"Yeah?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "How'd that go?"
"Well enough."
It had been odd, she could admit that much. It had never felt that way between them before, so… personal. The League certainly never left any room for the kind of tension that she had felt this morning, and Diana had yet to figure out how she felt about it. There were the mistrust and doubt and hurt that neither of them had the right to feel, but it was his implication that they couldn't rely on her judgement that stung more than she imagined it would.
Bruce was a complicated man, she had always been aware of that, but she had also assumed that they were already past the part where they would feel the need to test each other and go for cheap jabs to see how far they could push before the other would snap. It saddened and disappointed her to realize that she had been alone in her assumption all along. He had aimed to hurt when he had accused her of not being impartial, and it had worked, and she hated to think of how deeply it had cut her.
All of this, fighting together, working together, was meant to build their trust towards one another, not drive them further apart. Perhaps, ignoring his feelings when Diana first realized there was something there beyond having a common goal and striving for companionship and understanding had not been the right way to go about it, but it still gave Bruce no right to speak the way he had the other night. To her. And to Steve.
She couldn't imagine it being the end of them, though. They were friends and partners before everything else got in the way. She knew they were both willing to give their friendship another chance. She only hoped that it would not be in vain.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked softly when she didn't elaborate, and the pause began to stretch between them.
Diana's mouth moved to his neck again. Hera help her, she missed him. The past several hours suddenly felt centuries long. "I am," she said honestly, feeling the tension seep out of her body. His hand moved along her forearm until he was tracing idle patterns around her knuckles, his touch cool against her skin. How long had he been here? "Remember Clark's apartment in Gotham?" she asked. "The one where we…" She let the end of the sentence hang between them.
Steve hummed. Even without seeing his face, she knew he was smiling. "Vividly."
She smiled, too. "I asked Bruce to keep it and change the name on the lease to mine. You and I could stay there when we come over for the League business. I understand that this house is not… ideal."
Steve didn't say anything for a few moments, mulling over her words. She could all but hear him think, gears turning in his head. Somewhere behind them, inside the house, a burst of laughter erupted, muffled somewhat by the distance.
"You didn't have to do it on my account," he said at last.
"I didn't," Diana told him. "I did it for my own selfish reasons."
He laughed, and she was somehow once again caught wondering how it was possible that the sound of it was making her weak in her knees. Heavens, she loved it.
"I find that hard to believe somehow," he told her.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I like having you all to myself."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
He turned his head enough to brush a kiss to her forehead, and Diana felt her face split into a smile so wide she feared her head might crack in half.
"Good thing I like having you all to myself, too," he confessed.
Her arms tightened around him. Now that was an idea…
"We should go inside," she said after another minute. "You'll catch a cold."
Steve sighed. "Just needed to clear my head."
She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his skin wonderfully warm even through his shirt.
"I went to see Amanda Waller today," he added when she said nothing.
Diana knew that.
She wanted to ask him about it. When she had dialled his number sometime after lunch having left this morning before he had even woken up, his phone had gone to voicemail. She had tried the house then, only to learn from Alfred that Steve had gone to Gotham, his phone left forgotten on the kitchen counter. The mere idea of him anywhere near that mad woman had made Diana feel sick to her stomach.
She remembered Waller's face from where she had cowered on the ground behind Lex Luthor, the rain pounding down on her. Waller had been scared – the emotion so loud she might have as well been screaming about it. Diana also recalled feeling little remorse for her, something that had surprised her deeply. She was not prone to indifference towards suffering, no matter the circumstances. She blamed Waller, she realized. For what had happened. For the sound of Steve's neck snapping that Diana was going to remember for as long as she breathed.
What could he possibly have needed from her was beyond Diana, and before she knew it, panic was rising inside of her in hot waves.
She quelled it, although not without effort. Trust didn't come easy, not when Diana knew how fragile everything she cared for in this life could be, but this was Steve. She trusted him more than she had ever trusted anyone… than she should have trusted anyone.
They were still figuring things out. It wasn't easy—the adjustment to having someone in her life and the permanence of it. Someone who she loved deeply and without reservation, who filled her heart with so much joy that it could barely contain it all.
She pushed the thought away. They didn't need to deal with any of the questions still lingering between them right this moment. For now, being here with him was enough.
"Is everything alright?" she asked nonetheless, unable not to.
Steve let go of her arm and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah… yeah, it is. I actually…" He cleared his throat. "I wanted to see if she was okay. You know, after—"
He shook his head.
"She only sees what she wants to see, Diana. One day, someone is going to get killed because of it, and she will be none the wiser."
The disgust and disappointment in his voice didn't surprise her.
Diana had seen enough not to argue. She could understand where his worry was coming from even though she didn't know how to ease it. There was only so much she could do, only so many words she could say, before they lost all their meaning, turning into empty sound. It was one thing to protect people when they needed it, but trying to save them from themselves was something else entirely, and she had long given up on trying to figure it out, faced time and time again with the futility of such tasks.
One day, Amanda Waller would step over the line with her hunger for power and the foolish assumption that life was about control, and someone would have to be there to gather up the broken pieces. Diana didn't know if it was going to be her or the Justice League or someone else entirely, but the idea was dreadful nonetheless.
"We do what we do in hopes that it won't happen," she whispered into the curve of Steve's neck.
Steve nodded absently, but there was no conviction to it, and she had no words left to try and instill hope in him. Or in herself, for that matter.
Diana had thought of that, too. Thought of how some people could only learn from their own mistakes, and if Amanda Waller learned nothing from what had happened in Midway City months ago, there was hardly any point in trying to prove to her that they were fighting on the same side now. She was never going to see it that way without the League belonging to her, and there was nothing that that woman could say or do to make them relinquish their power.
Which left Diana fearing that this war between them might never stop. Feared that her threat might not be enough, either. That Amanda Waller might want something from them, from her, and would come for Steve because Bruce was right. Steve was her weakness that she would do anything to protect.
"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly after a while.
By now, the sky had turned dark grey and the two of them were almost completely swallowed by the shadows gathering around them, and had it not been for the lights shining in the windows on the lake house behind them, the blackness around them would have been absolute.
Steve exhaled slowly, his palm closing over her hand, his touch pleasantly warm even though the tips of his fingers were icy.
"Last night—no, the one before," he started and faltered. She felt him take a breath, his chest expanding against her hold and then deflating once more. "You asked me if I remembered what happened." Diana could hear him swallow, fingers flexing over hers, and she had a distinct suspicion that she didn't necessarily want to hear what was coming next. "I did… I do. It felt like—like the kind of emptiness that almost hurts. One moment, it was all there, and then suddenly there was nothing, and for a brief moment, while there was still a spark of life left, you're aware of it. You can see inside of yourself and there is nothing but this—this void."
Her eyes dropped shut and she rested her forehead against the back of his head. She had never thought of it that way, never heard one speak of dying with such frightening clarity. Her throat closed, not just from his words but from the sound of his voice, the way it was catching as if it was an effort to push the words out of his mouth. She forced herself to keep on breathing, to remember that it was over and that he was back with her.
And she vowed silently to keep his heart beating for the rest of her own existence.
"Steve…"
"I have never been so scared." It was a confession that didn't come easy, she knew that much. "You know, not even when we were running across No Man's Land and bullets were whistling past us and I thought we'd never make it because nobody ever did." There was a fond wistfulness to his voice that would have made her smile under different circumstances. "I'm not scared of dying, Diana, but I'm terrified of losing you."
You can never lose me , she thought, her eyes squeezed shut so tight against the unbidden image that she could barely stand it. She had to remind herself to loosen her grip on him lest she break another one of his ribs, and Zeus knew that they could do without that.
"I love you," she murmured, her breath on his skin making him shiver.
"I love you, too," Steve said without hesitation, and this time, she heard the smile in his voice.
I'm sorry , she wanted to say. There were promises on her lips and confessions and pleas to never, ever leave her. Not in this life and not in any other. Things that made her chest feel so full that she feared there was no space left for air.
"Are you ready to go back?" she asked.
"Mm? Yeah, I guess." He turned around without letting go of her hand, his cheeks flushed from the wind. He looked past her at the rectangle of the illuminated glass door and grimaced. "You're right, it's damn freezing out here."
"No, not the house," Diana shook her head. He lifted an eyebrow, confused. "I mean, yes, of course, but..." She smoothed her hand over his chest and then swept it through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, dark eyes searching bright blue ones. "We have the gauntlet back. Lex Luthor is no longer a threat and knowing about his involvement with what had happened at S.T.A.R. Labs means that the investigation is over. Our work in Gotham is done."
She watched the realization dawn on him, her words clicking in his mind. And then a smile so bright she could barely look at it broke across Steve's face, lighting up her very soul.
"Paris?" he clarified all the same.
Diana laughed, her fingers scratching lightly through his hair at the nape of his neck.
"Paris," she nodded.
He chuckled a little under his breath. "Yeah, I'm ready to go back."
She grinned. And leaned forward—
The door got yanked open unceremoniously behind them. "Get a room," Arthur snorted, his voice clear in the night.
Diana moved away from Steve, although her hand remained resting on the back of his neck and turned to the Aquaman who was filling nearly the entire doorway, both in width and in height. She tilted her head, one eyebrow lifted, and pressed her lips around the smile that threatened to spring across her features. It was incredibly hard to appear cross at his crude implication—even if it wasn't entirely incorrect.
Arthur looked away, his cheeks growing hot momentarily. He cleared his throat. "Dinner's ready. Better come now if you want some, while there's still something left. Before the fastest man alive eats it all." He rolled his eyes a little at the fastest man alive .
"Thank you, Arthur," Diana said, and he nodded and disappeared without another word, leaving the door half-open behind him. She turned to Steve who was smirking at Arthur's back. "Hungry?"
"Starving," he admitted, looking at her.
"Better go then." She weaved her fingers through his and squeezed them. "Barry won't be waiting around."
Steve laughed. "I don't think even Bruce is rich enough to keep Barry fed to his satisfaction."
Diana stepped toward the house but then stopped and turned to him again, causing him to pause in his tracks, nearly stumbling into her. She reached for him, her hand curling over his jaw as her mouth found his. Steve kissed her back, immediately and without hesitation, a low hum of approval forming in the back of his throat and sending a jolt of heat into her belly.
She kissed him until both of them needed to come up for air, and then she drew back and rested her forehead against his, their breaths puffing out in small clouds between them in the chilly air.
"Now we can go," she murmured, watching him break into a wide smile.
xoox
Arthur left three days later, the matters of his own domain calling. The night before, they had all cooked together (despite Alfred's protests), the kitchen feeling cramped and warm and welcoming for the first time in months. From her spot at the counter, Diana's eyes had moved from one member of the Justice League to another, taking note of the easy smiles and relaxed postures and jokes tossed around without care. No more straight backs and rigid shoulders and looking like they expected the world to end any second.
She had to admit that she liked it this way.
It was not often, to her memory, that their conversations didn't revolve around one crisis or another, that they were not mapping out plans and strategies or arguing about tactics and motives. It was as if their voices were softer now, their words slower. No fear that they might run out of time. Like they were a completely different group of people wearing familiar faces, their jabs and jokes old but the simplicity of the moment new and almost scary in how fragile it felt.
She tried not to think of how it might not last as long as they'd want it to, how something else would happen before they were ready, but in the end, she chose to soak up these hours of them as just friends as best she could.
Her gaze landed on Bruce who was deep in conversation with Barry whose hands were moving with dramatic animation, his eyes wide and his excitement nearly palpable. Before it shifted to Victor and Arthur caught up in a good-natured argument, their voices rising above the commotion but still not loud enough for it to signal a confrontation. Stirring something on the stove with his good hand, Steve was chatting with Alfred, who was positioned near him with a cutting board and a pile of vegetables.
If she didn't look too closely, the scene looked almost like a carefully choreographed dance where everyone knew their steps and never missed a beat.
Diana's heartbeat stuttered for a second and she sucked in an unsteady breath, her eyes lingering on her pilot. She had long stopped trying to pretend that she ever wanted to look away. In that moment, the difficult parts of fighting the good fight and keeping the peace as best they could were most certainly worth it.
Even Clark had stopped by last night to say his goodbyes before real life and the Planet swallowed him whole again. She had tried not to chuckle at how Arthur had had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants as he'd tried very hard to pretend that they weren't real friends now.
He had given up the pretence minutes later to wrap Superman in a one-armed hug.
"Is this not, like, cannibalism for you?" Barry had asked at some point during the dinner, brandishing his fork in the general direction of the seafood salad on Arthur's plate.
Arthur had plucked a shrimp from it and tossed it into his mouth, his eyes boring into the speedster. "Ask me again, kid, and I'll eat you."
Victor had guffawed and bumped his shoulder into Barry's. Barry, red-faced, had shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth and started to chew with great concentration, the tips of his ears burning.
Diana had bitten her lip around her smile, trying not to laugh. Even Bruce was chucking under his breath, his eyes amused as he had watched the scene before him. Sitting next to her, Steve had laughed under his breath when Alfred had made a comment about how they would need to clean up after themselves if they were going to start maiming one another.
She had turned to Steve, catching a glimpse of his smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I'm new here, but are they always like this?" he had whispered, leaning towards her.
"Actually, they're on their best behaviour now," she had observed, impressed. At least the food wasn't flying around yet, and no serious threats had been thrown about either, the conversation still civil and pleasant enough.
Steve had snorted and shook his head, and she had remembered wistfully the dinners they had shared with his boys, on nights much like this one when the possibility of tomorrow felt like the future they had been fighting for all along. When it was Sameer cracking jokes and Charlie telling him to get over himself and Chief watching them with that patient expression of his, like he knew all the secrets the world could hold.
Her hand had slid under the table and squeezed Steve's knee. He had lifted his eyes and smiled at her, and Diana thought for what felt like the millionth time, Please don't let me lose him again.
The next day, in the harsh light of the morning, while the mood was still light, the ruefulness was nearly tangible in the air, what with Arthur's bag sitting in the hallway and his trident propped against the wall. When Victor asked him about customs, he merely shrugged and said that it travelled as a pitchfork and that technically, agricultural tools were not prohibited on planes, provided they were declared and checked in properly, his eyes landing very briefly on Bruce, his lips curved in a smirk.
When Arthur drew Diana into a hug, she didn't hold back, squeezing him with all her might.
"Promise to visit," he asked, pulling back.
She laughed and framed his face affectionately with her hands. "We might stop by."
"And look after them," he clasped her shoulder and jerked his chin toward the rest of the League congregated nearby.
Diana glanced over her shoulder, her lips curving into a smile, before turning to Arthur again. "They can handle themselves, I'm certain."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Alfred remarked dryly, and Arthur laughed.
"See? Alfred gets it."
"It's not like we need constant supervision," Barry mumbled, and Bruce cleared his throat, covering his own laugh.
This was good, she thought. Not needing them here, together, was good, because it meant that the world was not in an immediate need of saving. It felt good to know that they each had their own way to go before they would need to come together again. She would still miss them, though. She'd miss them more than she had ever imagined she could.
That night, Victor returned to his father's apartment, their relationship still rocky but slowly mending. He promised Diana that he would call, and she believed him. Of them all, he needed the League the most; needed the sense of belonging, and she hoped with all her heart that he would find peace with himself, one day. And if not, that he knew that they would all be there to pitch in whenever he needed it.
"I am proud of you," she said sincerely before he walked out the door, his body hidden under the bulky clothes to hide all his sharp edges, both literal and metaphorical.
His features softened as he smiled, the vulnerability of a young man who had had to grow up too fast peeking out from under the veneer of someone who had to be tough in this world. A lovely smile that warmed her heart so.
"Come back soon," he grinned, trying to cover his sudden embarrassment with a heartfelt moment.
She laughed. "I hope I won't have to."
And then it was her and Steve the next morning that was grey and gloomy with promises of snow that would be there to stay, the air smelling of the storm. It would have Gotham buried under the crust of ice for the next four months and make the winter feel like it would never end. Diana was not looking forward to that, grateful all of sudden to be going back to Paris that never felt quite so dark and forbidding, to her memory.
She walked over to Bruce who was standing in the hallway, his hands tucked into his pants pockets and his face pointedly blank like none of this meant anything. For a moment, a twinge of sorrow jolted through her—at the thought of this house quiet and empty, of the sleepless nights spent downstairs in the Batcave because it was a better alternative than facing his demons and the silence during meals.
That thing between them still felt tender to the touch, like a wound that needed to heal before they went on prodding at it again, but it did not change the fact that Diana cared for him deeply. As a friend and team partner and a person who, ultimately, was the reason that she had gotten her happiness back. Even though she didn't think he would appreciate her gratitude for that.
And then she remembered the phone call last night, one that Bruce had gone to take in his study, and the uncharacteristic softness of his voice as he spoke, so unfamiliar to her.
Diana had never asked, and he had never explained anything, but if she had to guess, it was Selina Kyle on the other end of the line. Maybe loneliness wasn't in the cards for him, after all. Maybe the next time they saw each other, the longing in his eyes wouldn't be quite so raw.
"Well, I guess this is it," she said, pausing before him. "You are finally getting what you wished for."
"Peace and quiet?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think Barry is going to be that easy to get rid of."
At the sound of his name, Barry poked his head out of the kitchen. "Hey, I heard that."
"I meant for you to hear it," Bruce called back before turning to Diana again.
"You have a problem, Bruce," the younger man shook his head before he disappeared.
"Yeah, the people in my house who don't live here," Bruce muttered under his breath, and Diana had to press her lips around a smile. He cleared his throat. "I'm sure he'll get bored in a day or two."
She chose not to point out that he would miss them all even if he wasn't willing to admit it out loud. It was written all over his face, his voice more wistful than she'd ever head it. Loneliness was addictive, but so was companionship, and Diana hoped with all her heart that he would no longer deprive himself of it on purpose.
"Thank you," she said after a moment. "For the jet. For everything."
Bruce shrugged. "Figured you wouldn't want to declare a dangerous artifact."
That was the plan, at least. The Claw of Horus complicated things, but they all agreed that it was safer locked up at the Louvre again—somewhere where no one would be able to find it this time, she was going to make sure of that—than anywhere else. After all, it had stayed in her care long enough for Diana to prove being its worthy keeper. Hence Bruce's plane taking them back to Paris, the gauntlet stored safely away from prying eyes and dangerous curiosity.
As far as Diana was concerned, Amanda Waller was not aware of what had happened that night, of what it was that had made Lex as powerful as he had been, and they all preferred to keep it that way. The woman was causing enough trouble for them as it was, there was need for her to be informed about magical items in their possession.
"Thank you," Diana repeated.
Bruce ran his hand over his hair, suddenly shy in a way that she was not used to. Diana could see that he longed to say something, ask something, and she wondered if there was going to be a time again when they wouldn't dance around words that were better off unsaid.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Do you need a ride to the airport? Because Alfred could…" He trailed off when she shook her head.
"Clark is coming over to get us," she said, and added, smiling, when he arched a curious eyebrow at her, intrigued, "I promised a double date to him and Lois before we leave. We're having lunch together."
Her eyes moved past Bruce and he turned to follow her gaze to the lounge where Steve was standing deep in conversation with Alfred, oblivious to their scrutiny. Whatever it was that they were talking about had him engaged, his expression keen. The bruises on his face had faded somewhat, looking far less conspicuous now than they had a few days ago. He was holding his jacket in his good hand, his injured wrist held gingerly close to his chest.
For a second, Diana's mind drifted back to pulling him out of the water on Themyscira a century ago, surprised and disbelieving.
It was like she had never stopped being fascinated by him since.
Bruce's lips twitched a little. "I see," he said, turning to her. "Well, it sounds… dreadful, to be honest." He shuddered dramatically.
Diana smirked and shook her head. "I'm sure we'll manage."
"I'm sure you will," he muttered under his breath. And then he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Are you coming back?"
She blinked, surprised, her eyebrow pulling together at the implication. Why wouldn't I? she wanted to ask. And then she recalled nearly marching out of this house a week ago, fuming and furious. Recalled feeling like these glass walls were not enough to contain her anger at the hurtful words tossed at her and how they had tried to jab one another where it would hurt the most.
Truth be told, she couldn't blame him for doubting her future intentions in regards to the League.
Diana's smile softened. "Of course," she said. "Of course, I'm coming back, Bruce. Whenever you need me, I will be here."
He nodded. And then nodded once more, at a loss for words, by the look of it.
He looked like he wanted to say more, but loud honking from outside cut him off before he could so much as open his mouth.
She glanced at the door and then turned to watch Steve walk towards her, Alfred a step behind him and Barry joining them all with a sandwich in his hand. The picture felt incomplete without the rest of them here, but she tried not to dwell on that thought. One way or another, they would see each other soon enough.
For thousands of years, living on the island, she was spared the need to ever say goodbye. A blessing that Diana had never known to appreciate. And then she had paid for it by seemingly doing only that for a hundred years straight, living in man's world. Saying goodbye to people she cared about, sometimes for a little while, often for good. Of all the things that she had to get accustomed to, Diana thought, this one had ended up being the hardest.
She took a breath, reminding herself that she would indeed be back. That if she was lucky, she would have these people in her life for many years to come. Her gaze moved from Bruce to Barry to Alfred, who were watching her quietly, and her heart squeezed with a pang of longing and then unfurled in her chest, settling into a new rhythm.
And then she reached for Steve's hand and silently thanked her gods once again for the one goodbye that she didn't have to say anymore. Not for as long as they both lived.
A/N: Alright, well, we're basically at the finishing line now :) I really want to try to get this story posted before WW84 comes out. Do you believe in me?