Disclaimer : I don't own these characters, I am not making any money out of this and copyright infringement is not intended.

Author's Note: Ladies and gentlemen, we are at the beginning of the end, the final two chapters. So be warned: This chapter's second half contains shippy, mushy BM/WW.

To all the readers, I want to say thank you for the feedback. Forgive me for the flaws. Sometimes my fingers just type away by themselves and I get carried away ;) (What a lame excuse!)

I must admit, though, that I never thought this story will be well received. Salamat.

Well…let me delay no longer.

Chapter Nine

The Day The Princess Stayed Home

It was her day off. And, contrary to popular belief, superheroes had day offs too. J'onn informed her of this last night and, a little to his surprise, there was no raised nor frowning brow, no pout of the lips that implied a complaint, not a word of protest, no resistance whatsoever this time. Instead, she said a simple thank you.

Truthfully, she welcomed this rest day. Unless of course there was another emergency near the area…kiss the day off goodbye.

For this one particular day though, later in the morning, there was not a single call for back up yet. And Diana took the opportunity to prepare herself for the top priority mission that she had been keeping on hold long enough. The humongous task of cleaning up the house after a Thanagarian gave birth.

Appropriately attired for the job in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, her hair secured by a silk bandanna, she acquainted herself with the intricacies of putting together a vacuum cleaner. Several minutes later, now sprawled on the floor, she was beginning to have the symptoms of a royal tantrum. When Athena blessed her with wisdom, it obviously did not include in the package assembling a household appliance.

She learned to pilot the Javelin in no time, she even learned how to operate the huge computers in the Watchtower in such a short period that would make Bill Gates proud, considering the fact that she was raised in an island of women who would swear that a mouse was a rodent. But these contraptions were simply frustrating, particularly when she was missing the manual. She was now carefully considering making use of her alternative, the mop, the broom and the dustpan.

She made a quick scan of the living room and made a face. Everywhere, there was dust. There was dust on the couch, dust on the throw pillows, dust on the side tables. There's going to be dust on me too if I don't get going, she thought. And then she could not help comparing. The watchtower did not have any dust all, well not this much anyway, and shook her head at the idea of ever moving back.

Then her mind wandered to Alfred. However in Hera's name could he ever tidy up the whole manor by himself? And of course, thinking along those lines, of Alfred, made her think about Bruce. He's such a slave driver!

Well…she wanted her independence, her own house, she had to face the consequences, clean her own mess. But, at least…she sighed, the upside was she had all the privacy.

Or so she thought when there was suddenly a loud, rapping sound on the front door.

"Wally!" She seldom saw him without the scarlet uniform on. And the thought of him visiting her on the middle of the day in the bright red costume made her smile. He would definitely stick out like a sore thumb. "Come in."

The sight of her in ordinary clothes surprised him. He made an admiring sweep of her appearance and never thought a plain ensemble of a baby tee and shorts that were really short, considering she had very shapely thighs, would look so flattering on her. Moreover, the red boots were gone, revealing long…very long, sexy legs…

"Earth to Wally…"

His eyes darted back to her face. "What was that again?"

"I was inviting you to come in."

"Oh…right." He looked embarrassed, stepping inside. "Am I interrupting?" It was hard not to notice the state of her living room.

It was her turn to be uncomfortable. "I was just cleaning up…or at least trying to."

"Need any help?"

"Actua---"

She was not even finished with her reply when he became a blur, brushing past her. There was a brief rustle, then the buzzing sound of the cleaning machine. Then there was a thump here, a clang there, and a few more moments later it was over.

"Clean as a whistle," Wally commented as he wiped his hands.

She happily surveyed the room, almost giving Wally a big kiss for the effort. "Thanks…so very much." It was really an advantage having superheroes for friends. "Can I offer you some refreshment?"

"Orange juice please."

"Hmm," she looked at him suspiciously. "What? No iced mocha?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Trying to cut on my caffeine intake."

Later, she joined Wally on the porch, juice in one hand. As expected, he downed the beverage in a blink of an eye. The feat never ceased to amaze her as she smiled at him. But as she continued to observe the boyish face, there was something amiss.

He interrupted the silence. "You must be wondering why I'm here." He leaned on one of the posts.

"The thought crossed my mind."

"Diana…" he started seriously. It was not very like him. "I came by to…apologize."

"For what?"

"The rumors…I mean, it had to start somewhere." Wally placed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I'm afraid…some came from me."

"Wally…" She regarded his guilty expression and could not bear the thought of him this distraught. "It's okay."

"You mean…you're not angry at all?"

"The whole world is suspecting something…even villains are," she added in a smile. "If I entertain any of these rumors…I'd be having a headache the size of Metropolis."

Wally still looked as if he needed more guarantee.

"Okay…to prove to you I'm not mad at you…" She ruffled his red hair. "I'm going to bake you a batch of double chocolate chip cookies."

There was a glimmer of a smile. "Extra chunky?"

"You bet."

"Wait a minute…you know how to bake?"

She looked confident "It's still a learning process."

"Is there anything you can't do?" He looked at her in awe.

She considered for a moment. "I'm afraid of baking soufflé. It's a little…ambitious," she smiled.

He finally heaved an audible sigh of relief. "I'm glad." He walked over to her and pulled her into a very enthusiastic hug. "Gee…Diana, this really makes me happy."

It was such a rewarding feeling to give comfort to a friend. It reminded her that she need not dwell too much on her worries because, the truth was, everyone had problems, big or small. What was important was to learn to face and deal with them.

But then, after a few more seconds, the rewarding feeling became one of a question when Wally seemed to be taking advantage of her short-lived reverie, leisurely taking his time, with his arms still around her. She opted for patting his back lightly rather than giving him a slight nudge, as a sign for him to let her go than to offer reassurance. He did not seem to take the hint. Instead, she felt that he was getting too comfortable.

He sniffed. "Your hair smells great," he commented with no clear intention of letting go.

"Wally…"

He pretended not to hear and she felt a naughty hand making a very slow, downward journey. "Uhm…since you and Supes aren't an item…maybe I…"

"Wally!"

"Ouch!" He immediately let go and touched a hand to where she pinched him. "Just wanted to find out if you had warmed to the idea…okay I get it." He finished with a grin when she glared at him.

She shook her head. That was the Wally she remembered.

"Who finally…ever convinced you anyway that there was nothing between me and Kal…I mean Superman?"

"The big guy told me himself…man to man," he stated, a little proudly.

She gave him a few minutes to relish the thought of him and the Man of Steel bonding before breaking out the news that she heard from John. "Ah…but there is something you have to worry about though," she warned. "I seem to remember…"

His expression turned serious again. "What?"

"You owe several leaguers twenty each…and I've heard somewhere that you up the stakes to fifty with John. Because…Supes and I are not an item." She gave him a matching wink. "Don't forget that I have access to the grapevine too."

He closed his eyes and grimaced. "Forgot all about that."

She patted his shoulder. "I'm sure they'll only be happy to remind you once you get back."

He looked at his watch. "I'll try and time in an hour earlier. Before they arrive." He grinned, "But I doubt if they'll be able to catch me."

She smiled as Wally waved a goodbye and slowly dematerialized before her as he teleported back to the watchtower.

Alone by herself again, she stepped back into her house that looked so very much cozy once more. She dropped on the welcoming couch, her head resting comfortably on the armrest, and closed her eyes, the woodsy scent around her calming her senses. She allowed herself the luxury of a few minutes to just…occupy space and lay lazily. After that, she continued cleaning the rest of her home. Following another short rest, she bathed then had a quiet and contented late lunch before facing yet another task at hand. Bake cookies for Wally.

It was not everyday that she got to busy herself with ordinary household chores and it was a welcome break from the very busy life that she was accustomed to, except of course for the minor incident with the vacuum cleaner earlier. And baking was her newfound hobby. While it was very unlike of the warrior in her to handle pots and pans, not to mention a rolling pin, it offered an amount of comfort, of relief, from the stressful life that she had been living lately.

Totally enjoying domesticity she lost track of the time. It was already dark outside when she finished baking a lemon butter sponge cake and two batches of cookies for Wally. The extra batch she prepared for J'onn was still cooking in the oven.

And even though her face and hair had streaks of flour, she was still a vision in ordinary clothes, a dark blue sleeveless top under the red apron, a darker pair of shorts, and the same pair of flip-flops. Her hair was swept away from her face, secured by a clip, but a few strands managed to free themselves, framing her beautiful face.

She put on her oven mitts and was just about to check on her cooking when there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Coming…" she called out. With a covered hand she opened the door and peeked in the quiet darkness. There was no one in sight. Probably Wally checking out on his cookies. "Wally?" Her call broke the silence of the night.

When there was no response she became alert, instantly scanning the area. A funny thought occurred to her as she asked herself if she was equipped to fight anyone with an oven mitt. Then she heard footsteps.

"Good evening, Diana."

She knew instinctively the owner of the deep, baritone voice even before Bruce emerged from the dark. He was wearing a white shirt, under a black coat and matching dark pants. His handsome face wore the hint of a question. "Expecting company tonight?"

"Not really." Do I look like I'm all dressed up for company?

She was suddenly aware of how fetching she must not look at the moment, the red, floral themed apron still on her with the matching accessory, the just as flowery oven mitts. If she was any other ordinary female, she would have fussed about her appearance by now, compared to how immaculately attired he was.

And even though she knew she did not look particularly regal at the moment, she stood her ground. "Wally…he just helped me with cleaning the house earlier." The instant she mentioned Wally's name, she regretted it. He had another name to add on his to watch list, if the young man was not there already. And why did that come out sounding…guilty? And what's he doing here anyway?

"I'm going to a party later, not far from here," he explained as if the question she had was pasted all over her face. "So I decided to drop by."

"Oh." Drop by or check up on me? While she was busy asking herself questions, he appeared to be observing her with quiet amusement. Then she remembered all that had happened between them and instantaneously she became wary of his true intention.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

She carefully weighed her options. On one hand, inviting him in was like inviting trouble, and she had just fixed up the house. On the other, not inviting him in meant that he still had that much effect on her, that she was still sore about everything. And that, she did not want him to know. Besides, she might still harbor an itsy-bitsy feeling of indignation but she was not an outright rude person. Rudeness and arrogance took skill and he had them mastered to perfection. Those were a few of his endearing qualities that she did not want rubbing off on her.

She managed a guilty smile. "Oh. Where are my manners?" Seemed to have flown out the door when you saw him, her mind chided her. "Please…come in." She held the door open as he entered.

He held up a bottle of wine, a very expensive looking one. "A gift…for the housewarming."

She managed another smile at the recollection of the aforementioned occasion. "It wasn't exactly the housewarming I had planned." She felt a little uncomfortable with just the two of them in her suddenly too small house, at this time of the night. "Can I…offer you something?" Offer him what? You haven't cooked dinner yet! A voice warned her.

"Just a glass of cold water, please."

She distanced herself and made her way to the kitchen, placing the wine on the counter along with the mitts. When she turned from producing a glass of water from the refrigerator, she was surprised to find out that he had followed her. He already made himself at home, sitting comfortably one of the stools beside the counter. She handed him the glass but his eyes never left her face. She was willing to enter a staring down competition but then she remembered the cookies.

She observed with dismay that from where he was sitting, he was facing the oven directly. That meant, she would be bending, displaying her behind in front of him, in full view. Unless she peeked from the side of the oven door but that would look a little stupid.

What am I fussing about? As if there is anything left of me that he hasn't seen yet. With that thought, she went ahead and checked the cookies. When she faced him again, he did not even bother concealing the humor in his eyes as he sat smugly.

"What?" She just had to ask.

"It's not everyday that I get to see…this side of you."

"The domesticated side?" An eyebrow rose at him. "Or my behind?"

That quick retort elicited a rare response from him. He laughed.

She had to be fair and admit to herself that his face when he laughed was just…mesmerizing. She was wrong in ever thinking that he could never be more handsome because when he smiled, his whole face lit up as if he was happy, as if there was no amount of darkness behind those wonderfully blue eyes.

"I seldom get to see this side of you too," she remarked. "You should laugh more often, Bruce."

As soon as it came, the smile was erased immediately, as if she said something wrong. "What time are you expecting Wally?" It was the voice of Batman.

Was he waiting all along for Wally to show up? "Actually, I'm not expecting him. He's…expecting me." For a while she thought she saw him stiffen.

"Well…I won't keep you from your date." He prepared to stand up.

"It's not a date." She could almost feel the desperate note in her voice. "I promised him a batch of cookies. I also baked some for J'onn." Why did I have to do that? Why can't I just let him leave? "Want to try?" If she could, she wanted to knock some sense into herself with the rolling pin. That was just, to put it plainly, pathetic.

"No, thank you. I'm not that much into sweets," he declined.

Minutes of slaving over that sponge cake went down the drain. The forced smile he had on did not help from offending her. "Too bad…I baked you a cake, as a thank you for the…hospitality. But then again, I'm not Alfred." The hurt was too obvious in her voice.

"Oh." For one of the rarest times, she could see he was at a loss for words. "I did not mean…"

"It's okay…Wally will only be happier." She just had to make an excuse for him. Why won't I just stick a knife to my heart…that would be a lot faster. Or, better yet, put my heart in a blender and hit the puree button. "I seem to have acquired this habit of…offering you something you don't want."

He was surprised by her remark and only knew too well of what she meant. "Diana…"

"Actually Bruce, I'm getting tired of it," she continued. "Aren't you?" Her eyes did not bother hiding the pain that she had been keeping inside. As she stared with tired eyes, she laid bare all the raw emotions before him.

"What are you doing here Bruce?"

"I wanted to see how you are."

"Why?"

He was searching her face. "Because I care."

She was a little caught off guard by his admission. "If you care…why do you keep on hurting me?"

He took a deep breath. "It's…complicated."

Here we go again, the never-ending dance. "Then uncomplicate it, Bruce. It's either black or white…yes or no…" She paused for more emphasis. "You want me or you don't."

"It's not that eas---"

She interrupted. "But then again…you have already answered that, haven't you. Several times already. You don't want me."

"Diana…"

"Just leave me alone, Bruce. I'll live without you."

He looked at her intently. "I can't."

She closed her eyes, feeling so very confused. A part of her desperately wanted to believe in him, in what he was saying. But a part of her told her that, if she gave in to him, it would start all over again, she would be opening her heart to be hurt all over again.

"Why are you really here?"

He seemed tired of her questioning but he answered anyway. "I wanted to know how you are doing."

"How am I doing, or…" She put on a cynical smile. "…who am I doing it with?"

It came out harsher than she had planned. And if Bruce Wayne or, for that matter, Batman could flinch, he did just that. A nerve painfully twitched at the side of his jaw. But he was neither confirming, nor denying her accusation. Instead, he just stood there, watching her.

And this only proved to her that she was right. It was all plain to see that he was jealous, jealous of something that he had no reason to be possessive about. And it infuriated her. He had no right to put her in this place, no right to make her feel guilty of something she had not done. He gave up that right.

If making him feel the pain she was feeling was the only way for him to finally and truly let her go, it was what she was going to do, plunge the knife deeper for his feelings, whatever they may be, to die.

"Bruce…someday, there will be someone. Someone who won't be afraid to admit his feelings for me. Someone who will show me every aspect of how it is to be loved…everything, even the…physical." She looked away when she said the last word, as if the thought of offering her body to someone other than him was unbearable. And in doing so, she was not able to see the pained expression on his face.

She looked at him again, before delivering the final blow. "You'd better get used to the idea of me being…intimate with someone else. Because there's absolutely nothing you---"

It was either he moved too fast, or her exhausted mind was moving too slow to notice that in a few strides he had managed to trap her between the kitchen sink and his body, his arms on both sides of her.

There was no uncertainty, no gentleness, in the way his lips devoured hers. It was all raw, untamed passion, full of an emotion that was long denied. It took considerable amount of restraint, of self-control, to keep from total surrender, to keep her overwhelmed heart from betraying her mind, to prevent her from parting her pliant lips and finally accepting him inside. And to taunt her further, to melt her, to show her the extent of his feelings, he did not bother concealing his unadulterated desire for her as he pressed his body close, making her feel his need for her. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, not because of anger but to keep them from running across his chest, feeling his skin beneath his shirt, feeling the thundering beat of his heart. She reminded herself, her voice chanting in her thoughts, that he was not doing this out of love but out of possession. He was trying to win her again, to take her whole being once more.

He doesn't know what love is…and her own words in her mind made her stiffen.

He probably felt it too, because he stilled suddenly and looked into her eyes.

She could see his eyes still filled with desire. But she willed herself from feeling anything, biting back all the sentiments that threatened to pour out any time soon if she did not finish what was started. If only her voice did not betray her feelings.

"Finished?" She could almost hear the faint sound of sadness in her own voice.

He looked at her and realized the magnitude of his actions. "I'm…sorry, Diana. This was a mistake," he apologized, moving away from her, as if ashamed of what he just did. Slowly he turned, never looking back as he left her by herself.

She almost called out to him. But she knew better than to belittle herself and beg for his affection again. And when she heard the faint creak of the hinges and the soft thump of wood against wood as the front door closed, it echoed a note of finality to it.

What was done could not be undone.

This was it. He finally let her go. And she had to admit to herself that it was sad to think that it was probably the last time he would ever set foot in her home again.

It suddenly felt empty.

Coming next week…the final chapter.