Haunted
Ugly_Girl (mickerella@yahoo.com)
Disclaimers: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em. The only real crime I'm committing is the overuse of adverbs, and ending far too many sentences with prepositions.
A/N: This story was inspired by a challenge given on the JL Animated RPG message boards (like Artemis's "Sick Day" short). The first paragraph was given to us…the rest was up to the author.
HAUNTED
Part XVIII
Diana lay in the dark, unable to sleep. Her clock read only 3:30 am; she had monitor duty at six, and she knew that Batman usually didn't end his patrols until four thirty or five. She would be up and getting ready for the day before he would arrive – if he arrived. There was no reason for her not to sleep, then.
But she couldn't. Her mind raced, as she examined and re-examined her plan, tried to think of any flaws beyond the obvious one: she was going to have to die. She had absolute faith that she would be revived, but she couldn't pretend that there weren't risks.
And she knew that the biggest one she was going to take was with her heart.
She turned over on her side and sighed. If only she felt it was safe to take more time. If only she could have a few more days or weeks with him before she destroyed every possibility that could have existed between them. If only—
The door to her room slid open, and her breath caught. She could see him silhouetted against the light from corridor before he shut the door, locked it. Her eyes quickly adjusted, and she watched him as he looked over toward the bed.
"You're awake," he said.
She realized he wore his night vision lenses, could probably see her open eyes.
"You're early," she returned quietly.
"It was a slow night. Should I leave until you are ready to get up?"
She sat up slightly, lifting her head and propping it up on her hand, her elbow against the mattress. "No," she said. "My bed is big enough for the both of us."
He walked to the other side of the bed, sliding off his cowl. "I've set the lock so that only my code and yours can open the door. I don't intend to sleep in my mask."
She nodded, then realized that he couldn't see her now without his cowl. "That's understandable," she said. She didn't look away as he pulled off his tunic, but she felt compelled to tell him as his hands went to his waistband, "I can see in the dark."
His grin flashed briefly. "Then close your eyes. My uniform is loaded with armor – I don't intend to sleep in it, either." She blushed and rolled over, her back to him. He chuckled. "Don't worry, Princess, I'm not completely immodest. I've brought pajama bottoms." She heard the slide of fabric, then felt the give of the mattress under his weight.
She turned back over, watched him as he settled into position on his back, his arms bent and hands laced under his head. "Thank you for coming," she said.
He didn't respond for a few moments. "I'm becoming used to this bed," he said finally. "Maybe one day I'll be able to return the favor, and you'll become used to mine."
Her throat closed. She understood clearly what he was saying, but knew that by tomorrow he wouldn't be saying it anymore. She was suddenly glad that he couldn't see in the dark, couldn't see the tears that flooded her eyes.
"Maybe someday," she echoed hoarsely.
He turned onto his side, looked directly at her although she knew he couldn't see her. "Diana…it really was a slow night, but I came here early on purpose."
She stopped breathing, rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, certain her heart was breaking. He was offering this to her now…now, when she knew it was going to be taken away? How could she stand this, knowing she would never get this opportunity again, living her life knowing how it could have been, but never able to experience it more than once?
What would hurt more, she thought – knowing what it could have been, or wondering about it her entire life? Was the hell of knowing better than the torment of wondering?
He sighed, and she realized that she had taken too long to answer, that he had probably mistaken her indecision for rejection.
She made her choice.
"Bruce…" Her voice trembled slightly, and she didn't trust herself to say anything more, except, "Yes."
She felt him tense, as if disbelieving. "Yes?"
She nodded, and he must have sensed it, because in the next moment his hand touched her cheek, stroked through her hair. He reached past her, turned on the dim lamp next on the nightstand.
She blinked. He leaned forward, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"I spend most of my time in the dark, Princess. I don't want this to be there, too."
She couldn't speak, so she reached up, brought his head down to hers, captured his lips with her own.
Forcing herself not to think about the future, she concentrated solely on what she was feeling now, the way Bruce softly tasted her mouth, urging her lips to part, sliding his tongue over hers. The way he swept his hands down her body, pulling her against until she felt the heat and hardness of his body against her own. The way he cupped her breasts in his palms, causing her to arch her back, moaning into his mouth.
The words they spoke were incoherent, urgent whispers as he worshipped her form with his mouth and hands, tasting, testing her responses, wringing cries of pleasure from her. She learned his body, desperate not to miss anything, to experience every sensation possible, to make him feel everything she did.
She sighed in protest when he stopped, poised above her, trembling from the effort it took to restrain himself. He rested his weight on his elbows, brushed her hair from her forehead, damp with perspiration, and looked down at her. Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her eyes…he recognized the emotion in her eyes: beyond desire, beyond anything he'd ever seen before. He knew what he was seeing, but wouldn't name the emotion, wouldn't admit to himself that it was possible.
"Diana." He softly kissed her. "Are you sure?"
In answer, she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulled him down to her. Heat enveloped him; her eyes widened at the unfamiliar sensation, and he bent his head, capturing her gasp with his mouth. He waited there, slowly kissing her, letting her get used to his weight, the feel of him.
She began moving underneath him, her breath coming in small pants. Matching her rhythm, he watched her, locked his gaze with hers, neither one of them looking away. He slowed their pace, wanting it to last, but knew it wouldn't be much longer when her thrusts became more urgent, as she began to tighten her muscles under him, her hands clenching on the muscles on his shoulders.
"Bruce…?" Her breathy plea was a mixture of uncertainty, excitement and arousal.
He read the unnamed emotion in her eyes again, had to keep from closing his own against the intensity of it. "Give in to it, Diana." He reached down between their bodies, stroked gently where they were joined, forcing her over the edge.
She bit her lip, her body arching, her head thrown back, shuddering. He let her ecstasy feed his, let himself join her.
They lay there, the air cool on their slick skin. He finally turned to the side, pulling her with him, unwilling to separate himself from her yet. He slid his fingers into her hair, kissing her softly before letting her rest her head on his chest.
"Bruce, I…" Her voice trailed off, but he knew what she wanted to say, hoped she would say it. He held his breath, but she finally said, "I'm glad you came."
Trying not to feel disappointed, he murmured against her skin, "Me, too."
*********************
He woke the next morning, felt across the bed for her, but the sheets were cool where her body had been, and she was gone.
In the silence of the empty room, he let himself smile, remembering the look in her eyes, the feeling of her.
Diana loved him.
His smile widened.
Part XIX
Batman swept into the monitor womb. Diana sat at the console, staring pensively into space. She didn't notice his entrance.
After ascertaining that no one else was in the room, he walked to her side; she finally broke out of her reverie and glanced up. A blush spread across her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, back to the monitors.
He couldn't see any regret in her expression, and he found himself breathing more easily.
"Good morning, Diana," he said softly.
Her blush deepened, as if his simple greeting had been rife with suggestion. "Good morning…Batman." She said the name in obvious deference to the suit he wore, and he was suddenly pleased that she made an effort to use the name that concealed his identity, even when they were alone.
He sat in the chair next to hers, swiveled it so that it faced her. He let his eyes trace the line of her profile, her jaw. "You shouldn't be embarrassed, Diana."
She darted a surprised glance at him. "I – I'm not." She took a deep breath. "I'm just not certain of how one is supposed to act after…" Breaking off, she searched for the correct words. "After…"
He leaned forward out of the chair, pressed his mouth to hers, letting his tongue sweep between her open lips briefly. He sat back down. "After a night of that?"
She nodded numbly.
"I don't think there are any rules about how to act," he said. "Just try to be yourself, do what you usually do."
She smiled. "Do you usually kiss whoever is on monitor duty?"
"Yes," he said, keeping his expression serious, glad that her shyness was finally fading. She didn't realize it, but he was acting – and thinking – very unusually at that moment. "I especially like mornings when it is GL's turn."
She laughed aloud. "Shayera might have objections to that."
"Shayera? Why?" Had some aspect of the relationship between John and Hawkgirl escaped his radar?
"You mean you don't already know?" She grinned, and raised her eyes toward the ceiling. "I've finally figured out something that he doesn't know first," she said jokingly.
His eyes narrowed as he thought about that – not that he could say anything, he realized, especially now that he and Diana were…were…
He forced himself to think it: Lovers. They were lovers.
He wondered why the idea didn't bother him as much as it should have. He couldn't afford this type of attachment, shouldn't have sought it out last night, and not sure that he would have under different circumstances. But recent events and the hauntings had brought him closer to Diana in ways that he hadn't thought possible, and shouldn't have allowed – yet he had.
"What are your plans for this evening?" He thought that a dinner at the Manor probably wouldn't be possible, or even desirable considering the other 'guests' that might show up, but a meal in Metropolis might…be…
His mental planning ground to a halt as he saw the expressions that flitted briefly across her face: despair, resignation…regret. Finally, she forced an apologetic smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, and he could see by the tightness of her skin that she was barely able to maintain the expression. "I…I have plans with Shayera." She looked away from him, at the monitors.
He stared at her profile, trying to ignore the feeling that he'd just been kicked in the gut. She was lying. Why? Was she wishing that she hadn't said 'yes' the night before? Was she simply uncertain, or scared by her feelings for him?
"Diana," he said, his voice quiet, "are you regretting last night?"
She jerked her head around, her eyes wide. "No!" She said the word forcefully, her face earnest. Her eyes softened, and she said, "I…I am just a little overwhelmed. Everything is happening so fast."
He could tell that wasn't quite the truth, either – at least not the entire truth.
He stood. "Perhaps tomorrow, then."
She nodded, then caught his hand before he could go. Her words came out in a rush. "I get off duty in a few minutes, then I have to go to Dr. Thompkin's clinic, but I planned to drop by the Manor to return Alfred's books, and then maybe borrow a couple more." She hesitated, and that strained look passed over her features again before her expression became resolute. "Can I see you then?"
He lifted her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm. "I will be working in the cave," he said. "Once you have finished in the library, have Alfred show you down."
He turned, strode toward the exit, was almost there when Diana grabbed him, spun him around, pressing his back against the door. She raised her face to his and kissed him desperately, her arms wrapping around him, fingers bunching his cape. He returned the kiss, slowly taking control of it, softening it until she relaxed against him. He eventually lifted his mouth from hers, their harsh breaths mingling.
"Bruce…" Her eyes and lips were moist. "I need to tell you so much."
He smiled reassuringly. "Tell me later, Diana. We'll have more time then."
She stepped back, a sad smile on her lips. "Later," she echoed.
