Author's note: It's been quite a while since I wrote fiction; it's a lot of fun but things are definitely a bit rusty. Ah well, work-in-progress. Incidentally, this chapter—and actually, most of the story—was inspired by a single scene: how much could Bruce Wayne bench press?

Thank you for the comments/feedback thus far. Enjoy.

Chapter 2

What the hell had he been thinking?

He was slumped over the main controls in the Batcave, head cradled in his hands, ostensibly making use of his precious few moments of free time before the long day began. But instead of being productive, he had spent most of his time worrying about…tonight.

"Computer. Access Wayne PDA."

The Cray beeped instantly. "Online."

"List schedule today."

"Schedule for Thursday, November fourteenth," the toneless female voice began, as the words scrolled on the plasma screens before him.

"7:00 AM: Breakfast, Lucius Fox, Juniper's.

8:00 AM: Meeting, Board of Directors, Wayne Enterprises.

10:00 AM: Meeting, Dr. Siderman, Wayne Tech.

12:00 PM: Lunch, Simon Bradley, Acme Corporation.

2:00 PM: Meeting, Joseph Briggs, Wayne Enterprises.

4:00 PM: Meeting, Stanley Feder, LexCorp.

6:00 PM: Plane Flight, Gateway City

8:00 PM: ICF Ball, Gateway City"

"Stop. Cancel six-o'clock…" he began, but trailed off, licking dry lips.

The computer beeped questioningly. "Confirm cancellation of six o'clock PM: Plane Flight: Gateway City?"

His mouth worked several times, but the word wouldn't come out. Finally, he groaned and said, "No."

***

Diana stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of her. The things they don't tell you about being ambassador to Patriarch's world, she thought ruefully. Break spears. Run fast. Dodge bullets. And try to stay awake while reading the latest proposal for Kasnia's fifth economic treatise in as many years.

She pored over GDP and tariffs and trade requirements for an hour before words and numbers began to blur. When she caught herself wondering how much eleventy-teen was, she decided it was time for a break.

The Themysciran ambassador walked to one of the side tables and poured herself a cup of tea. She gazed longingly at the array of cookies and pastries laid out on the table, but forced herself to be good. A girl had to watch her figure; after all, she had a date tonight.

The intercom buzzed. "Diana? You have a call on line one. It's Cassie."

"Thanks, Amy," Diana called out, then strolled back to her desk. She braced herself before pushing the button for line 1.

"Hi, Cassie."

The young voice over the phone was almost a shriek. "Diana! I just read the gossip columns! Isn't your date tonight? Are you really going out with Bruce Wayne? I hear he's really really really filthy rich! How'd you get a date with him? What are you guys gonna do? When are you getting back? You have to, have to, have to tell me all about it!"

Diana held back a laugh. "Yes, I am going on a date with Bruce." That set off another round of chatter from the girl, during which Diana glanced at the clock on her desk. Only ten in the morning. Still a long time before…

"What?" she sputtered at something Cassie had said. "Cass, I am not going to sleep with him!" She shook her head in mild exasperation as the young girl continued to jabber excitedly.

***

Down. Breathe in. Up. Breathe out. Eight. Down. Up. Nine. Down. Up. Ten.

Bruce strained with effort as he pushed the bar up a final time and shifted it back into place with a loud clatter. He sat up slowly from the bench press, chest heaving. After an early end to the Lexcorp meeting, he was trying to ease some of his tension by lifting weights in the manor's gymnasium.

It wasn't really working. He glanced back at the weights on the bar. Two forty-five pound plates and one twenty-five pound one on each side. Two hundred seventy-five pounds, the weight he usually pressed.

He needed something more right now. He went to the weight rack and picked up another pair of twenty-fives, sliding them on with a soft clank. Three hundred twenty-five.

As he settled back into position on the bench, he wondered why he was feeling so…angsty. Well, he knew the reason, but…

He put it out of his mind to concentrate on the task at hand. He had hit three hundred only a few times before, preferring to tone and toughen his current mass rather than build even more. Fingerless workout gloves tightened around the bar. He inhaled.

With a grunt, he lifted the bar from its rack and began the smooth pressing motion. The first two repetitions were easy enough, but the third took some effort and by the fourth his left shoulder was twitching. A bullet had grazed it sometime last year and it still wasn't on par with the right one. He made a mental note to swing on grapples with his left more often.

He fought his way through the fifth, and through sheer force of will brought all three hundred-odd pounds down and up one last time, finally slamming the bar back into place with a tremendous clatter. Six reps. His muscles were trembling. He just lay there and groaned.

He sat up at the sound of Alfred entering the gym. The older man carried a tray with towels and a pitcher of water.

"Three twenty five, Master Bruce?" the butler inquired. "Most impressive."

Bruce grinned wolfishly.

"Might I recommend that you begin getting ready for your plane, sir?" Alfred asked. He placed the tray on a side table and handed a towel to Bruce, who accepted it gratefully and buried his sweat-soaked face into the soft fabric. "The flight is in just over an hour."

Bruce didn't lift his head; his voice was muffled. "I think I'm going to cancel, Alfred."

The butler frowned. "Certainly not."

Bruce looked up. "What?"

Alfred was bustling about wiping down machinery. "It would be most improper, sir, to cancel on a lady on such short notice."

Bruce blinked in surprise. "I do it all the time, Alfred. You never say anything."

The butler pursed his mouth. "That's different, sir. Regrettable, but necessary to maintain your image as a…womanizer." The word came distastefully off his lips. "Miss Diana does not strike me as the kind of person to be used for such a means, sir. The lady seems very special."

"I know, Alfred." Bruce stood from the bench, gestured at the bar he had just lifted. "She's Wonder Woman. She could toss that thing over her head with her little finger and snap the bar in half if she wanted to."

"And that is the reason you're so hesitant about going to this function, sir? Because she is physically stronger than you?"

Bruce gave his butler a glare that he usually saved for when he was wearing cape and cowl, a narrowing of the eyes and curl of the lips that made the most hardened criminal, and even the majority of the superhero community, shudder.

Its recipient was unfazed. "Might I remind you, Master Bruce, that the effect of that stare is rather wasted on someone who changed your diapers when you were a child. I would suggest you save it for a more opportune moment." Alfred dusted his hands off, having efficiently wiped down all the machines during their short conversation. "I would also suggest you take your shower and get ready for the flight, sir. Your suit and tie will be waiting."

As the English gentleman left the room, Bruce did something very uncharacteristic for the Batman. He sulked.

***

"Bruce Wayne," he said hours later, freshly scrubbed and impeccably dressed. He flashed his famous smile. "She's expecting me."

"Of—of course," said the dazzled receptionist, who was trying hard not to gawk. "W-Welcome to Gateway City, Mr. Wayne. Miss Diana will be…just a moment."

"I don't mind," he said with a wink. The receptionist turned red, then bent over her files and began typing furiously.

He walked around the desk, studying the décor and artwork in the waiting room. Soft pastels, pictures of landscapes and gardens. Boring.

"Mr. Wayne?" the receptionist called. "She says to go on up." She explained how to get to Diana's room. He thanked her and gave her another smile that left her whimpering.

As he entered the elevator and hit the button for Diana's floor, the suave façade fell away and he realized that he was very nervous. He ran his free hand along his freshly shaven jaw; the other clutched a bouquet of roses and an elegant box of French truffles. Flowers and candy had been done to death, but what did you give a woman who could lift an airplane over her head and fought crime dressed in a red-white-and-blue swimsuit?

The elevator dinged and opened. He stepped out into the hallway and headed to her room. She asked you out, he reminded himself. You're not the one that's supposed to be nervous.

Meanwhile, I can't believe I did this, Diana thought, staring at the clock. She blew on her hands to warm them. Amazons weren't supposed to feel the cold but her hands were chilled. Or was it just her imagination? For the millionth time that week she wondered what in Hera's name had possessed her to fly to Gotham that night.

It was already seven. Had he changed his mind and not bothered to tell her? Would Batman do that? He was the cold and calculating one in the league but there was no way…was there? She started tapping her foot to release nervous energy, but stopped immediately; it was unprincess-like.

He wouldn't stand her up. Would he?

The bell rang. She shot up and literally flew to the door.

***

He took a deep breath as the handle began turning. He plastered a wide smile onto his face, then realized he would look like the Joker and forced it down. Almost unconsciously, his shoulders straightened even more. The door finally opened and Diana stood facing him.

"Hi," she said shyly. Her eyes were sparkling.

She was a vision. A black strapless dress was wrapped around her slender but curvy form. Her hair was done up in an elegant coif atop her head, baring smooth, creamy shoulders and the perfect curvature of her neck.

Bruce Wayne had dated models, actresses, some of the world's most beautiful women, but none of them came close to the one standing before him. He struggled to find his voice.

"Hello," he said at last, managing to his surprise to sound almost normal. "How are you?"

"Good," she replied. "Thanks for coming. I was worried…" she trailed off, then brightened. "But you're here." Her eyes flickered to his left hand.

"Oh. Here," he said, offering her the bouquet and box. "For you. Not very original, sorry. I didn't have much time to look for anything…"

"They're beautiful," she murmured, accepting the gift and breathing in the roses. "Come on in, I'll put them in water and we can go."

He obediently stepped inside and looked around. As he had thought, her place was much more interesting than the receptionist's room. It was a unique mix of the modern and classical, with Amazonian busts and sculptures complementing sleek design and furniture to give the room a cheerful brightness.

He watched as she carefully set the roses in a Greek vase on the coffee table, head bent at the task. He caught a hint of her perfume. The back of her neck was smooth and so very enticing. He couldn't resist lifting a hand and trailing a finger along the soft skin. Still clutching one of the roses, she froze at his touch and trembled as he stroked her neck.

She straightened up to look at him. The rose fell to the ground, forgotten. They were standing very close together. "Bruce, I…"

The shrill rings of a phone jolted them both out of the moment. They laughed together in relief and embarrassment.

She pointed apologetically to the phone; "Excuse me." She picked it up and listened for several seconds. "Yes, he's here, I'll talk to you later," she said rapidly, and almost slammed the receiver back onto its hook. "Cassie," she explained to his bemused expression.

He had retrieved the rose and slipped it into the vase. "We should get going." He offered his arm with a grand gesture. "Ready for an incredible night of listening to bloated windbags dazzle you with stories about their golf game?"

She giggled and slipped her smaller arm into his. "Why, Mr. Wayne, one might think you don't enjoy these events. What's not to love about parading scores of beautiful women around, like you always do at these things?"

"I do it for the children," he declared with a solemn face. They shared a laugh and left the room.

***

Her face broke into a smile at the sight of the person holding open the passenger door to the limousine. "Hello, Alfred."

The butler returned her smile. "Good evening, madam. I hope you are well tonight?"

"Wonderful." She slid in gracefully and scooted to the end to accommodate Bruce. The limo's doorway seemed almost too small for his large frame, but he followed her in with an ease that matched hers.

When they were settled and Alfred had pulled onto the road, she leaned back into the plush seat cushion and gave a small, contented sigh.

"Tired already?" Bruce asked teasingly.

"Paperwork all day. And Cassie wouldn't stop calling me about this date." She smiled at the thought. "That girl dragged me to a dozen beauty salons until she found one she liked. How about you?"

"She has great taste." Diana blushed at that. "Meetings for me. And Alfred had everything ready."

"Lucky you," she said. "Does he always come with you to out-of-town events?"

"Sometimes. Especially if there's a chance that something might happen back in Gotham. There's a couple of situations I've been monitoring, just in case; one of them is…" he trailed off. "What?"

"Bruce…how about no shop-talk? Let's enjoy this night."

He shrugged. "As you say, Princess. Though," he made a face, "I'd rather talk shop than golf scores."

"You really don't like these events? I imagine you have to go to a lot of them."

"It doesn't mean I have to like them. The events themselves are for a good cause, it's the people I can't stand. Well, most of them…not all," he said, gazing at her. He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Besides, I'm terrible at golf."

She smiled. "So you actually can admit you're not perfect at something."

"I can't cook, either. Ask Alfred."

She laughed and turned toward the driver's end of the limo. "Is that true, Alfred? Even with a great chef like you teaching him?"

The butler gave a dramatic sigh. "Sadly, madam, yes. I do believe it's hopeless." She giggled and leaned back into her seat.

"Alfred--" Bruce began.

The tinted glass panel was already rolling up. "Terrible traffic, Master Bruce. Must concentrate on the road." It closed with a soft click. Bruce's eyes widened in panic.

They spent several moments examining each other's shoes.

He finally broke the silence. "I'm going to have to ask this sooner or later." He paused, as if trying to decide on the best approach, and finally just said, "Why?"

She arched a perfectly formed eyebrow at him.

"Why did you ask me to this?" he clarified. "I'm sure you knew the Wayne Foundation was involved and I would have been here anyway."

She took a deep breath, let it out. "Do you really not know, Bruce?"

"I'd like to hear your reasons."

They sat in silence while she formulated an answer. The limo's engine purred quietly as it traversed the road. Like everything else about him, Alfred's driving was immaculate; there were no sharp turns nor sudden starts and stops.

"There's something between us," she said finally. "Some kind of tension, but in a good way. I've felt it. Other people have noticed it. I think you've felt it too."

"Have I?"

"Kyle asked me why you were staring at me during our last meeting."

He blinked, startled. Had he really been that obvious, that Rayner of all people would…? He cursed his stupidity and made a mental note to especially torment the Green Lantern for the next week. Maybe month.

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him we were arguing over something and it was your way of trying to intimidate me." Her pouty lips twisted into a smirk. "He wished me luck and said he hoped you never stared at him like that, ever."

Definitely month. "You told a lie?"

She shrugged. "In a way, it was true. It was that or ruin your reputation, no? I don't think your…target audience would be nearly as terrified of you, if they knew you were such a softy inside." Her smirk widened.

He crossed his arms and glowered.

She laughed at his reaction, then grew serious. "More people are beginning to notice. J'onn knows, obviously, and I think Kal suspects."

"Suspects what, exactly?"

"That there's…something…between us."

"What?"

"Are you saying you haven't felt anything?"

He opened his mouth to speak, decided better and closed it firmly.

She smiled at that. "See, I knew you would never do anything about it. You're too stubborn; you'd keep it to yourself forever. So I decided to do something." When he didn't answer, she spoke up again. "I have…feelings…for you, Bruce. I don't know what they are, exactly, but, I think…" She took a deep breath, swallowed. "I...like you, Bruce. I think—I think you like me, too. I think something could…might…" she trailed off. Her face was red.

He continued staring at her; neither of them said a word. The flush had stolen down her neck and throat. The silence grew uncomfortable before they spoke at the same time.

"Princess, I—"

"I don't—"

They smiled. "Go ahead," she murmured.

He collected his thoughts. What kind of courage did it take her to say this to him? What would it have cost him to be the first to say such a thing? Could he have ever done it? In some ways, he realized, the princess was far braver than the knight.

"Diana," he said at last. "I don't think…" He tried again. "Relationships are never a good idea in our line of work. Especially mine. Regardless of what we might feel."

Her smile grew so radiant that he felt a tug at his heart. "So, you do feel something."

I do. All the time. Ever since I started working closely with you and realized what an incredible person you are. I dream about you sometimes. Not often, but it's a sharp contrast to the dreams I'm used to having.

He couldn't say those words. He took a deep breath and instead forced himself to say, "Perhaps," then amended it quickly. "But that should be as far as it goes."

"Why?"

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do you really need me to spell out the reasons?"

"I'm sure I can guess the ones you'd bring up. But how do they—"

His cell phone buzzed discreetly. It was an emergency line, so he muttered a quick "Excuse me," to Diana and pulled out the slim black case. He flipped it open.

"Wayne."

"Bruce, it's Barbara," came the muffled female voice.

"Babs! How are you?" The line was secure but it was still a cell phone; there was no sense taking unnecessary risks. Just like they hadn't directly mentioned any secret identities in the limo, even though he had scanned it three times over for bugs and other electronic devices. Long live paranoia.

"Good. There's a situation."

"Glad to hear that. I'm doing well. What is it?"

"It's about the old man and his daughter," Barbara said softly. His jaw clenched. They had a code for this kind of notification. The clown was obvious. So was the bird, or the cat, or the puzzle. The old man was Ra's Al Ghul.

Diana caught the tightening of his mouth and was looking at him curiously. "Okay. Hey, Babs, I'll call you right back," he said with a cheer he definitely didn't feel. Not now, of all times…

He slipped the phone back into its pocket and tried to smile at Diana. "I need to borrow your phone. Emergency." He tapped his ear.

She nodded and began fiddling with her right earring. "Of course." She slipped out the small earpiece and handed it to him.

***

Barbara Gordon popped the bubble she had just blown with her chewing gum, then shifted the gooey lump back into her mouth. One of the many consoles in front of her beeped over the alternative rock music blaring from her speakers. Her hands danced over a keyboard to track the comm's ID, and she frowned. Why would Wonder Woman be calling her?

She shrugged and pressed a button. "Oracle."

"What's the situation?"

She blinked. "Batman?" He spoke in a tone very different from their cell phone conversation moments ago, but she knew both voices as well as anyone. She re-checked the comm ID. Yep, Wonder Woman's, from Gateway City. "What are you doing—"

He cleared his throat.

"Right." One hand flashed furiously as she searched all her news sources for references to Bruce Wayne and Gateway City. The other continued typing away as it updated her on the six developing situations around the world, none of them as critical as Ra's. "Nightwing traced a suspicious character back to a warehouse in the docks district. He found a bunch of thugs unloading a ship. Ra's is there. Batgirl and Robin are en route."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Tell them to stay put until I arrive."

"Got it," she replied, still reading about Wayne and Gateway City. She clicked off the transmission. Ahh, the International Children's Fund was holding a ball. But why was Bruce using Diana's comm? Her eyes widened as the latest gossip column flashed on the screen.

"Bruce, you dog," she said, smiling.

***

He handed the earpiece back to Diana without a word.

"Bad news?" she asked with a grimace, knowing the answer.

"Yes." Curt.

"Okay..."

"Problem back in Gotham. I need to use your pad." Transporter.

"Okay."

They fell silent. He pressed the intercom button. "Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Alfred, I'm afraid we're going to have to head back to the Themysciran embassy. Something's come up back home."

"Very well, sir. And Miss Diana?"

"Oh, uh, we should drop her off first—" He paused; Diana was shaking her head vigorously. "Never mind, just back to the embassy, please."

"Very good, sir." Bruce released the button.

He rubbed the back of his neck and stifled a sigh. There were times, not often, that he wished things were different, that he could lead a normal life and go on normal things like dates without being at the beck and call of any maniac with a grudge. He couldn't think of a time he'd wished for it more so than now. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged, not entirely succeeding at keeping the disappointment off her face. "Our line of work, right?"

"I'll make it up to you, Diana. I promise."

"I'll go with you," she offered suddenly. Before he could protest, she waved her hand at him. "Yes!"

"No. Diana—"

"I'm coming with you. You promised me a date tonight, and I plan to get it one way or another. Once your problem's out of the way, we can try again."

So very tempting. "No. That's final."

"I'll wear the black outfit," she offered in a teasing, mock-seductive voice.

He let out a snort and shook his head, but he was smiling. His faced sobered quickly. "No. I'm going to be firm on that. Sorry."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. They didn't speak the rest of the way back to the embassy.