Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Rating: PG-13

Boldface detonates flashbacks. Okay? Got it? Good.

Shayera didn't know how much time had passed when Batman finally released her. He loosened his grip on her waist and placed a hand on her shoulder, effectively separating them.

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked. His voice was unusually low, and slightly husky.

She gave him a wan smile and moved her wings slightly outward, giving him room to move. "I'll survive." She looked into his face as he stood, but his expression was unreadable. Big surprise.She knew she'd heard a tremor in his voice when he spoke to her, though. The Bat, with feelings? Amazing. And no doubt, Diana, being…Diana, had let him know in no uncertain terms what she felt about a relationship with him.

At least he talked to her, Hawkgirl thought. That's a hell of a lot more than I did with John.

As he moved silently down the hall, she called after him. "Where are you going?"

He paused and turned. His steely expression was back. "To…I want to investigate more on the Vandal situation. And find him, if I can."

Hawkgirl stood, her feathers barely rustling. "Take me with you."

Batman shook his head. "No. you need to sleep." He glanced at her stooped shoulders, her drooping, ruffled wings. "You've done enough. And technically, we've got our teammates back, safe and sound- the immediate problem has been taken care of. Get some rest."

Hawkgirl smirked. This guy really doesn't know me. "Trust me, I need to get my mind off…everything, okay? Don't make me beg."

Batman tilted his head, considering. He wanted to go to the Batcave, which might present a problem identity-wise…and he wanted to be alone for a while, to pore over the Vandal case, to work out a strategy for solving it, on thinking the whole situation through…by himself.

By himself.

As he stared deep into the bottle-green eyes of the young woman standing in front of him, he signed inwardly. Joining the Justice League had been a mistake. He knew that now. Being part of a team meant that you became…attached to people, and when that happened, complications always arose. Big complications, that often resulted in the most private areas of your life being broken into.

Would he have ever been as mad as to do what he'd done with Diana, had he distanced himself that night, like he always did?

Now, he wished he had.

Unwilling to dwell upon the question, Batman turned with a swish of black cape and said over his shoulder, "Come on. You're driving."

She followed him, the first glimmer of a smile that he'd seen in days on her face.

His last fleeting thought was that it might not be so bad to have her along, after all.


On the other side of the Watchtower, locked up in the den, Wonder Woman and the Green Lantern were still in a meeting with the Queen, telling her all that had happened.

After a short period of silence, broken only by Timeus' gurgles, the Green Lantern began to speak, taking his son on his knee.

"This is what happened…."

Six months into their captivity, John and Wonder Woman were still alive, much to their surprise.

Vandal seemed to be making good on the statement that he wanted to keep them "very much alive," despite the fact that John's escape attempts wrecked pure havoc in the small enclosure nearly every evening…and he had the scars on his back, chest and upper abdomen to prove it. He had been entangled with the gigantic barbed-wire fence surrounding the place more times than he cared to imagine, and androids followed his every move. If the place was like a fortress before, it was impenetrable now.

Except for these small…interruptions, the GL and Diana had fallen into a routine of sorts, headed by the ever-present, ever smirking Vandal, always armed with that damned detonator. The scars from where he'd put the implants were growing faint, proof of the amount of time they'd spent there.

Their routine varied little from day to day. They were awakened promptly in the morning, and ushered to a room, where they were given a series of stretching and endurance exercises to do for two hours, tightening and releasing various muscles.

Even for Diana, who still had her powers, this was quite a feat, day after day, on an empty stomach. Then they were showed to the showers by Vandal's ever-present androids, and to a breakfast of grain-bread, butter, and a thick, oatmeal-like porridge fortified heavily with cream and sugar. A special "vitamin blend," Vandal called it.

After this, they went to the lab, and were subjected to intensive testing. Blood, urine, hair and sweat samples were taken and tested. They were asked to run on treadmills, to lift weights. Vandal subjected them to IQ, psychological and endurance tests. It wasn't, John thought irritably, much different from being in the Marines.

After time in the lab, they were shipped off for their second, midmorning meal- usually bread, fruit, cheese and cold meat. Then they were sent off to do weight training. Vandal had steadily been increasing the amount of weight that each of them trained with, and both their bodies were beginning to show the effect. John grew leaner, harder, stronger, and even without his ring, began to show a strength that was nearly supernatural in itself. Wonder Woman's already impressive muscles took on an unbelievable sharpness and cut.

Next was the heaviest meal of the day- usually a stew, a thick stew fortified with barley, lentils and meat, along with of course- more bread. This they choked down under the watchful eyes of Vandal and his androids, who hovered over them, making sure that each of them ate at least two servings- three, if Vandal was in a particularly sardonic mood. Then came sleep, a long two-hour nap. The final training of the day- and the most intense- was done after "naptime."

It consisted of various outdoor activities that varied from running an enormous- hundred-yard obstacle course to swimming dressed in full armor, to various battle training with ancient, heavy, blunted weapons. After that was a light dinner of meat and vegetables- and then a light workout before sleep.

John was the most agitated, always looking for a way to escape, threatening not to eat anything at first, openly defying Vandal in any and every way- Wonder Woman's calm demeanor frustrated him even more as the months began to drag.

"Don't you want to get out of here?" he'd spat at her one day, about three weeks after their initial capture, as she was cleaning him up after a particularly messy run-in with the fence, his seventh escape attempt that week. Vandal, as usual, had made him complete his exercises, still covered in grime and blood. "What is wrong with you? And you still have your powers, too…this isn't like you, Diana."

Diana shrugged, fixing her eyes on his bruised back, which she was sponging off with iodine. He wasn't even wincing. "I…I have no idea what is to be done. We're in an alternate universe, John. You know that. We have no idea what's out there, and-"

"Spare me that foolishness," John reached behind him and snatched the iodine-soaked sponge from her hand, wiping it over his cuts himself, gritting his teeth against the pain. He threw the sponge impatiently to the floor of their tiny dorm-style room and whirled around to face his teammate. "Diana. I'll ask it again. What is wrong with you?"

He'd asked he this question many times before, but was always answered by an incredibly…defeated look in her eyes. Like she didn't even want to fight. He tilted her chin and looked at her. Her face was blank, unreadable.

"Diana. God." He said aloud. What had Vandal done to her? He remembered the night that they had arrived, waking up shackled to the wall. Diana had already been awake when he came to. What had…what could have Vandal done to her beforehand?

And if he had done something, why wasn't Diana telling him?

That had been months ago, though.

And now, John felt himself growing just as complacent as she. It was almost as if…almost as if he didn't care anymore.

"Six months," he muttered to himself.

"What?"

John looked over his shoulder at the intrusion. Diana had appeared in the doorway of their small room, where he was in the process of getting dressed for breakfast. Their android would be calling on them- soon. He reached for the simple gray cotton shirt that he now thought of as part of a jail uniform.....

Before he pulled it over his head, he studied his upper body in the fuzzy mirror image on the wall. From looking at himself and from Vandal's testing, he could probably safely say that his body fat was at less than one percent; he was all muscle, now, and scars now crisscrossed his chest and back, both from training and escape attempts. "I said, six months." He pulled the garment over his head and glanced at Diana. "That's how long we've been here, Diana." He had been scratching out the days on the wall since day one. "That is, if this freaking place even goes by months…." He sat down on his bed, burying his face in his hands

How easy it would be just to give up, as Diana had…

"The worst thing is," he said, looking down, "is that we still don't know why we're here." Sure, Vandal had blathered on and on about the perfect human race that first day- God, how long ago that seemed-!- but he had never mentioned it again, instead concentrating on his intense testing and training of the two of them. And the last time the Green Lantern had tried to escape, he'd been beaten by Vandal's androids, so savagely that Diana had been afraid for his life. "He must want to use us for some experiment…but what? And when?"

"We've talked about that," Diana said, wearily. "Many times before." She sat down on the floor, dressed in her gray cotton, hair pulled back tightly. Her face was wan and pale. "I haven't the least idea."

John looked at her, feeling a sudden measure of concern. "Di, you okay?" She had always been quiet since the beginning of their ordeal, but seemed healthy enough. Today, she looked almost sick. It was strange, seeing his usually strong, independent, willful teammate like this…maybe he should have been paying more attention to her…he felt another surge of hatred towards Vandal. Thank God it was Diana and not Shayera, though. He shook the thought from his head, quickly. He'd learned to not think about her in the first few weeks of his captivity- if he did, he'd surely go crazy. Would he ever see her again?

He refused to consider that possibility. He would see her again. No matter the cost…

Diana's answer broke his thoughts. "I'm fine." She got to her feet in one graceful motion. "Let's go. Vandal will be ready for us, soon."


"John?"

The Green Lantern rolled over in bed and grunted, more than a little cranky. "What?"

"Are you sleeping?"

"Obviously not, since I'm talking to you." He sat up and lighted a candle by his bedside, squinting into the wan light. Diana was sitting up in her bed already, staring at her hands. The expression on her face was…bemused. He furrowed his brow. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," Diana said, quietly. "I just feel so tired."

The GL leaned back into his pillow. "You're probably just worn out," he said. "That bastard had us running up and down all day, and…." He gritted his teeth at the memory, and his hands clenched involuntarily. "God. I don't even need my ring. Just let him take out these freaking implants, and give me one clear shot at his head, and-" he glanced at Wonder Woman and paused. "What's the matter, woman?"

She shrugged.

"Well, you woke me up, so it must be serious." And she's not spazzing out about my calling her 'woman'…. He climbed from his bed and made his way to her side of the room. "Do you feel nauseous or anything?"

She shook her head.

"Fever?" Without thinking, he reached out and touched her arm. It was warm.

"I…I don't think so."

"Maybe it's the room." He sat down on the edge of her bed, suddenly feeling more than a little warm himself. He called for the resident android- one was always behind the door. "Hey, Jeeves! Could we get a little AC in here?" he wiped his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt.

There was no answer.

"I wonder what's going on," he muttered. "Metalhead never failed to show up before." He went to the door, and tried it. It was locked. He turned back to Diana, who was now wiping prespration from her face and neck. "You really are sweating up a storm."

"So...tired all of a sudden…" Wonder Woman took to the air and hovered, but she seemed to float sideways for a moment, not quite on balance. The GL made a move as if to catch her, but she managed to stumble back to her bed, slumping onto her side. Really worried now, John wiped the sweat off of her as best he could, removing the heavy blanket from the bed and leaving only the light linen sheet underneath.

"Six months, John."

"What?" John looked up from where he was rearranging her bedclothes on the floor.

"Six months. We've been here six months." She began to shiver, in spite of the fact that she was still sweating. "I…I've been of no use to you. I'm sorry…"

John stopped what he was doing and looked at the shivering woman on the bed. "What-?"

"Vandal…broke me. That first day." Diana swallowed visibly. "He said that he'd make it impossible for me to ever return to my former life, to ever be worthy enough to live with the Amazons again…." Her shaking had increased. "He said that he owned me…that he I was going to do what he wanted, that I was going to help him…"

"Diana?" John was bewildered by his teammate's disjointed speech. "Help him what?"

Diana stared up at him, her pupils bright and dilated, a brilliant blue against skin that had lost most of its tan hue during her months of captivity. Her face, opposed to the rest of her, was wet and clammy, but cool. He reached out and touched her face.

She jerked away from him.

"Di…" without thinking, he shortened her name. "What the hell did he do to you?" Some kind of…vicious manipulation, obviously. What else could make her act so weak?

He didn't listen for an answer, however. He was growing far too warm.

John pulled away from her and stood, yanking his shirt over his head. He made his way to the door, and tried it again. Still locked. He hit it with his fist in frustration. "What do you want us to do, Vandal? Bake?" he yelled, angry and frustrated.

"On the contrary, Mr. Stewart." Vandal's cool, cultured voice suddenly broke into the confines of the small room, startling John.

"Vandal!"

"Yes, indeed." Vandal's voice was so calm that John could just picture the bastard leaning back in a chair, his fingers steepled. "Who else would it be?"

"We need air!" snapped John. The heat was spreading upwards and now felt like it was penetrating his body. It was unbearable. "What are you up to now, you godamned, freaking-"

Vandal laughed- a long, hearty laugh that sent a shiver up John's spine, in spite of the fact that now he was burning up. When Vandal's last chuckle died away, he spoke again. "Mr. Stewart."

"What?"

"Are you a fan of the American show Star Trek Voyager?"

"What does that have to do with anything, you freak?" John demanded, fanning himself. He glanced back at Diana, who was taking in the proceedings with a slightly stunned look on her face. The thin cotton shirt she normally slept in was soaked through, sticking to her skin, which was now flushed from the intense heat.

"Patience, Mr. Stewart." Vandal sighed. "Anyway, the show is wonderful. I do love it so."

John didn't dignify him with a reply.

"Well," Vandal finally said, "I was intrigued by one of the concepts on the show. A character, a Mr. Tuvok, was Vulcan by birth, an alien race.

"In his race, every seven years or so, the male and females of the species suffer from a phenomenon called Pon Farr, commonly known as blood fever. This syndrome incites the same symptoms you are now feeling- intense heat in the body, a burning sensation on the skin's surface, mental distortion…" he paused, and John heard a click. Is that sicko lighting a CIGAR?!?

Vandal continued. "The condition eventually boils the blood, leading to the person's death, if the syndrome is not resolved. However, there is one solution that cools the blood fever."

He paused again, and John heard him exhale. Yes, he was smoking a cigar.

"Mate or die."

John's brain, addled by the heat, barely registered the man's words. "What?" he hissed, too overcome to shout. Behind him, he heard Diana moan, and cry out in Greek, probably to the gods. "Hera…" she whispered through barely parted lips...

Vandal smirked audibly. "It's a reproductive trait in all Vulcans. Anti-pheromones released during mating cool the blood fever, and cure the patient. It ensures that the race keeps reproducing." He took a moment to give a discreet cough. "I managed to fuse several elements that produced the same effect in human beings, which was put in your food this evening. Your training was to ensure that you would be…strong enough for the…ordeal you'll go through tonight. Pon Farr can make the mating rather…violent, and repeated." His tone and words somehow left a sinister tint to the air. "Shouldn't have taken seconds on the pot roast, eh, Mr. Stewart?"

"You…." John was speechless. And growing hotter. He glanced at Diana, who had slid off the bed and was creeping forward on the rug. The expression in her eyes was as shocked as he felt, although she said nothing. Her skin had flushed an even brighter hue during the few seconds he and Vandal had been speaking. Her body was burning up, too. From the inside. And according to Vandal….

"You sick bastard!" John hissed. With the little strength he had left, threw back his head and hurled some of the foulest names he'd picked up during his years in the Marines, and then some. When he'd run out of breath, hanging on to the door gasping for air, Vandal came back on, sounding bored.

"Control yourself," he said, coolly. "You'll need your strength."

"I'll never do that!" John was beyond disgusted, despite his discomfort. "And neither will Diana. You'd better give us an antidote now, or you won't have any test subjects in the morning."

"I'd rather die!" This came from Diana, a spar of her old self finally coming through.

Vandal laughed. Laughed.

"The fever will reach your brain in a matter of minutes, if it isn't there already," Vandal said, softly. "You'll no longer have any control over your actions, my friend. It will be as if you were unconscious. You will mate. She will conceive. And after a little genetic fine-tuning by me, of course-" he paused dramatically. "I will have my wonder child."

"Why can't you create the kid yourself, Savage? Immortality making you shoot blanks?" John, in spite of the intense weakness and throbbing beginning in his head, still managed to make a vicious crack. "Your suckers go bad around the time of Cesar the Great?" H heard Vandal suck in his breath and felt a sudden surge of satisfaction that he'd managed to make the man angry.

"No," breathed Diana. It was the last words she would utter that night. She stumbled forward and fell against John's bare chest. Her skin was just as hot, and it was as if the two had fused together. He struggled in vain to push her off, and she managed to brace her hands against his chest, separating them. Help me resist, her eyes begged.

"Sleep tight," Vandal said, and the room was silent.

John turned around and faced Diana, duly aware of the hot, stabbing sensation racing its way up his neck. "Diana," he said, hoarsely, "We can fight this…" but as the sensation crept higher and higher, he knew otherwise. He took one final long, stubborn step away from Diana…and then felt heat, hot, searing, overpowering heat envelope his head, his mind…he had no feeling, save for the feeling of heat, and Diana's skin, and his skin, and touch…

…and then, he knew no more.


"Hawkgirl?"

At the sound of Batman's voice, Hawkgirl looked down from her current position above Wayne Manor. She and Batman had taken the Javelin to Earth, but as soon as they re-entered the atmosphere, she asked him to allow her to fly after the Javelin. In spite of her extreme exhaustion, she felt like flying, like stretching her wings for while. Batman obligingly opened the hatch for her and she took off, spreading her wings. It took a couple of hours to reach the Manor, due to Hawkgirl's slower flying speed, but Batman needed time to think, anyway.

Hawkgirl landed, folding her now-air-ruffled feathers close into her side. She'd deal with them later.

Batman steered the Javelin into a large steel enclosure that looked that it was made especially for that purpose, then brought her into a passage that led directly from the wall. The hallway was cool, and dark- and when they emerged from it into a brightly lit laboratory, Hawkgirl had to blink.

So this was Batman's famous lair.

The laboratory was impeccably clean, spacious, and stocked with every piece of machinery and equipment that any detective or scientist could probably want. Cabinets and iceboxes lined the walls, some marked with biohazard signs. There was a small table furbished with two chairs, and two lab coats and sets of goggles- one smaller than the other. Shayera walked over to where the coats hung on the wall, fingering the smaller set. "Robin's?"

"Yes," Batman said, shortly. He was beginning to regret bringing her here. It was almost…tainting his sanctuary, in a way, to have anyone here other than Robin…he shook his head to clear it. What was done was done. "Putt them on. They're small, but-" he glanced at her. "You're not that much bigger than Robin, so they'll do."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she mumbled. After all, she was in HIS house. She pulled her mask off, and placed the goggles on her head. When she turned around, she saw him staring at her, a slightly bemused look on his face.

"What?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"I…never mind." He pulled on his own lab equipment and went back to the Javelin, taking a bag he'd left there. When he returned, Hawkgirl was pulling on the lab coat, careful of her wings, folding them close to her body.

"Does that hurt?" he ventured to ask. She looked as if she was crushing them.

"I…what…oh!" Hawkgirl caught his meaning. "No, it doesn't. they're pretty flexible."

Batman nodded, feeling slightly awkward.

It was Hawkgirl who broke the silence. "So. What are we doing here?"

Batman jerked back to action. "I have…some forensics from Diana and John that I took when they…when they returned. I have samples from the baby as well." He saw Hawkgirl's face cloud slightly, but she said nothing, only looked up at him. Her eyes were magnified by the goggles. "We need to examine the samples for any forensic clues as to where they've been and-"

"I know." Hawkgirl cut him off. "I'm a detective too, remember?"

"Yes." Of course. She had been a member of the Thangerian police force and a detective as well. Then he narrowed his eyes. "How did you know about me being a detective?"

She shrugged. "Common knowledge."

Batman shook his head and began to lay out the samples. Maybe my life isn't as private as I think it is.

Hawkgirl moved next to him, intent on the samples he was laying out. "We need to test for radiation poisoning," she said, calmly. "It must have taken a great deal of energy to bring them back. And viruses Savage may have planted in their blood. Double check on the baby's urine and blood for that as well. We also need to see if…there's been any evidence of genetic manipulation." She looked up at him for his approval.

He nodded, dumbly, then found his voice. "Yes. We also need to see of there's anything…left in their blood form the agent that Vandal used to make them…to make them…"

"Screw." Hawkgirl's voice was flat. "Let's get started."

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