Notes: Done at last. Yes, many of you thought I was going to just quit and leave it where it was!
Not so. I think I received two emails from people telling me that they didn't like it, and
something like thirty-five emails telling me I should continue it. *Preen preen* Ahem.
Anyway. This should have been done long ago. It wasn't, and for that I apologize
profusely. There was a house fire and my computer died. I lost all my notes and chapter
outlines and I'm basically having to recreate everything from scratch. So if the style is
different or everything is not-quite-seamless, please bear with me. I PROMISE I'll finish
this. And it's actually kind of fun to recreate it and tweak it a bit. But I'm keeping you
from the story, aren't I? Agk! Don't get distracted by me! Go on, Read it!
Enjoy,
SuperherogirlCat A.K.A. Cat Price
Chapter Eight
Dawn light from the east spilled through the cracks in the tightly-shuttered window in
Diana's room, illuminating the two figures on the bed.
Diana stirred and sat up, stretching. She was momentarily startled when two strong hands
gently gripped her waist and drew her back down to the bedclothes.
She smiled softly and nestled closer to the King of Gotham, in whose arms she lay. "Good
morning," He whispered.
For a long moment she was content merely to lie there in the circle of his embrace and feel
loved, but too soon, all too soon, her mind caught up with her emotions. Damn it. She could not do
this.
Firmly, she pushed away from him and retrieved her tunic from where it lay, forlorn and
discarded on the floor by the bed. It was not much, but it covered her. She pulled it on.
The King of Gotham propped himself up on one arm.
What's the matter," He asked. His voice held a touch of concern.
"Nothing, My Lord King," She responded tersely.
"Diana," His voice was firm. She glanced over only to find him standing directly behind
her.
Gods, he could be silent as a cat when he wished it.
"How can you call me 'Lord King' after what happened last night?" He demanded.
Diana walked over to the carved hardwood wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room
and opened it. She surveyed it's contents and selected a pair of buckskin legging. She pulled them
on, carefully not looking at him.
"Last night..." She met his eyes and took a breath, the words hard to say. "...was a mistake.
My Lord. It meant nothing." The lie came too easily to her lips. She hated herself for telling it.
She turned away from him.
"Diana!" He hissed her name out, angry. "Look at me!"
The last thing she wanted to do was look at him. She did it regardless, her expression stony.
Icy blue eyes met grey ones that sparked with anger and hurt.
"How can you say that?" He demanded. "How can you stand there and look me in the eye
and tell me that last night meant nothing? How can you stand there and- -"
"Because!" She shouted angrily. "Because I cannot handle this, Bruce! Because my
husband is dead and my child was killed and my one chance of saving them depended on my
disguise and I believe we both realize how well that succeeded!
"Last night resolved nothing! Not my grievance with my people, and not your grievance
with me for deceiving you. And I regret having done that, My Lord King. I regret that more than
you can possibly imagine. But that does not change the fact that last knot happened too soon, too
abruptly...if indeed it should have happened at all."
She sagged against the wood of the wardrobe, closing her eyes. She would not cry.
"It was a mistake." She said each word slowly and carefully, trying to convince herself as
well as him. It took effort, but she looked into his eyes.
"Last night should not have happened."
His face looked as if it was set in stone. The silence stretched palpably between them like a
living thing.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice neutral.
She watched as he gathered his fallen clothes and dressed in silence. She wanted to tell him
to wait, don't, stop, anything to take back the lie she'd told him, the hurt her words must have
caused. She did not trust herself to open her mouth.
He walked to the door, then turned back. Hope flared briefly in her then dimmed as all he
said was;
"I am calling a meeting of the greater nobles later to discuss the matter of your husband. It
would behoove you to attend."
Then he was gone.
Diana slid to the floor, folded her arms over her knees, and buried her face in them.
Last night had not been a mistake. Last night had been...wondrous. Wondrous and
beautiful and full of promise. Last night had not meant nothing. Last night had meant everything;
hope, awakening, love, even, and a new beginning. For her and perhaps even for him.
But she could not afford to give him that. It was not fair to either of them.
For she intended to go to Themyscira. She intended to avenge her husband and son. She
intended to kill her mother.
And for that, she intended to die.
***
Special Thanks To:
Mr. Charles Berlin, The Great And Powerful Art Teacher of Doom; For my boyfriend Ben
Wall for yakking to me constantly on the phone and distracting me whilst attempting to write; My
dad for the gracious use of his computer; Brian, my Muse for obvious reasond; Wonder Woman 1288 and GammaXmen for internet conversations and support; Noah for long, involved conversations about the DCU; Everyone who emailed me and all of my reviewers; and the musical talents (or lack thereof) of Teada, The October Project, Christy Moore, and The Sallymacs.