by IronRaven
edited by Sabbie-chan (bows, begs forgiveness for first posting before she was done)
Disclaimer: Batman, Wonder Woman, The Justice League, Teen Titans, and related entities, characters and concepts are the property of DC Comics. This continuum was developed by Bruce Timm.
A slightly different result to the start of Here After.
---
John Stewart, the Green Lantern, sat alone in the blackened observation lounge, staring out at the stars. It wasn't the first time he had lost comrades. Friends. Brother Marines, a few in the "blodless" invasion of Panama, others in the desert hells of Middle East and Somalia, and too many in simple training accidents. Fellow Lanterns, in the battle with Despero, some by Sinestro's treachery. Even just going home; he had been away for so long, most of the people he knew growing up as pillars of the community had finally crumbled.
But there was always something left. A body, a smear of blood, a piece of torn flesh, even just a last scream of pain or defiance. This time, nothing. It was almost as if they hadn't ever been there.
Some time after watching North America pass below for a third time, John's eyes twitched to a reflection of movement in the glass. The reflection's wings drooped in sadness as Shayera crossed to stand at the back of the bench. "Superman is sleeping; J'onn had to sedate him pretty heavily."
"He's never had to loose anyone before." Shaking his head, John looked down at the ring perched on his finger, thinking of the Toyman who lay in critical condition in Metropolis General. "I couldn't have stopped."
"I wouldn't have." Watching her friend silently, Shayera's hand moved closer, to a point where her fingertips could reach out and touch his shoulder. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a while? I don't want to be alone."
For a time, they stayed like that, motionless as their vantage point roamed the sky of their world, a world alien to one by birth and the other by duty. Just the slightest, lightest touch, and the greatest comfort. Wordlessly, Shay moved to join him on the bench, both of them taking the same posture as they shifted their elbows to their knees, each cradling their chins on their fists. Eventually, John spoke up, "It isn't right."
"It never is the right place, or the right time. Or the right person."
"No, it isn't. To many things not done, not said..." As he spoke, they glanced at each other at the same time. Hoping the other wouldn't notice, until their eyes touched, then they both snapped their vision out, unknowingly at the same star. John felt a flash of disgust at what had just been going through his mind. It was a time to mourn, to remember, not to think about.... "Shayera, I-"
"Shh, not now."
---
Alfred pulled the blinds over the study windows as Tim closed the door. The security system was already active, there would be no intruders or eavesdroppers.
The youngest member of the family had said he needed some time to apologize. It had been several years since he had been captured by the Joker, and in the aftermath of his rescue, he had been asked and then ordered to stop being Robin. When he ran, Tim hadn't looked back. Other than an occasional news article, he had been missing for some time, long enough that Bruce had finally taken Alfred's council and stopped looking for him. Then, in the aftermath of the alien invasion that had spawned the Justice League, another team was born in Jump City. From an abandoned Wayne Aerospace facility, the Titans rose. Following his student's activities filled Bruce with pride, but the two could never relent enough to make amends. Knowing that the words would never be heard, Tim Drake sat forlorn, staring sightlessly at the big chair that would forever be empty behind the desk.
Dick Greyson held Barbara, who held held back her tears until she reached the Manor. Alfred's summons were too slow, for Dick had seen the same news. When Batman was killed, he knew what was to come, and had immediately left Bludhaven for the Manor. He had argued with his mentor, successfully striking off on his own when he cast off the role of Robin. But Batman and Nightwing had patched their differences years ago, with two frequently assisting each other, even if they didn't always agree. Dick knew that it was bound to happen, they all did, but he seemed to be taking it the best.
Barbara had not allowed anything out, acting as surprised as her father when Alfred had called them, requesting their presence at Wayne Manor on a matter of extreme urgency. When the redhead came through the front door, she saw her on-again-off-again lover, and Alfred, and the television images became too real to describe. The grief had hit her like a physical blow, and wracked the young woman's body painfully as Dick's arms wrapped around her. She wanted to be a Bat, so badly she risked her own life as an untrained amateur. She was the only person who had ever really forced Bruce to do anything, but he really didn't have a choice. If he didn't train her, she would have been killed. After nearly an hour of sobbing, she was able to function again.
The other person in the room was her adopted father, Jim Gordon. Seeing his daughter's reaction when they reached the Manor started to put the pieces together. The "Wayne Murders" had been his first major case as a young man newly promoted to the rank of detective. Over a decade later, as precinct chief, criminals started telling tales of a giant, bat-like monster that had left them tied up, stuffed in car trunks, or out cold in garbage piles. When he became Commissioner, the Batman paid him a visit. Over the years, they had come to rely on each other, even a kind of friendship. During the day, Bruce Wayne was a proud supporter of the Gotham Police, and the two had occasionally talked at various city functions, with Jim never believing the vapid playboy image. Right now, he wasn't sure what bothered him more: that his friend, Batman, never told him his true identity, or that his daughter hadn't told him about her second life.
Alfred cleared his throat, just above a whisper. "Thank you for coming tonight, on such short notice. I think that Master Bruce would have been happy to see all of your here." With that introduction, Alfred swung the panels back to bare the television and tapped two buttons.
The screen came to life with a soft snap-pop, as the player hummed softly. From the glass panel, a barefaced Batman looked out. "I, Bruce Wayne, being of sound mind and body, do hereby command and bequeath:
"This secret, private portion of my will is to be read in the event of my death. However, if Batman should die in a manner that allows the secret to be maintained, only this portion is to be read. The rest will have to wait seven years, to allow Bruce Wayne to disappear and be certified as dead. I leave to all of you to develop a cover story for Bruce Wayne's disappearance.
"Alfred Pennyworth, my greatest friend, my oldest ally, my mentor. For my entire life, you have been my council, and my protection, acting for Bruce Wayne when Batman was on the prowl. You will find in my bedroom, behind the Matisse, papers extending your powers as my major-domo to allow you to carry out my disappearance. You may remain at Wayne Manor for the rest of your days, or any of the other properties, as you wish. I also gift you with the contents of the Bahaman banks accounts that are listed with your name in the appropriate documents, along with ten percent of my holdings in Wayne Industries and it's independent subsidiaries. Thank you, Sir.
"Jim Gordon, you have helped me more than you probably know. By now, you will have learned that Bruce Wayne and Batman were the same person; I've often wondered how long you've known." Sitting in his chair, Commissioner Gordon glanced at his watch to answer the question himself, as the recording continued, "Everything that makes Batman a hero, rather than a common vigilante, is your doing. You've sheltered me, and my students. I could not repay my debt in life, but I can now. I know you can make good use of my files on open cases, and even some closed ones. When you can no longer use them, retire, my friend, you've earned it. The Bent L Ranch is yours now; almost fifteen square miles of Montana grassland and a few thousand head of cattle. Consider it a hobby for your final years.
"Barbara, I don't remember asking you for your help. But thank you for not letting me push you away. You saved us all too many times to count, made a valuable member of the team. I find myself thinking of you as my niece, more and more each day." Where she sat, still pressed against Dick, Barbara bit her lip, trying not cry again as she heard the words. "I ask you to give up the life in the shadows, and follow your father's path. Please, Barbara. To help you, I leave my law and philosophy libraries, along with the Cayman Island accounts specified on Alfred's list. Those should cover admission to any law school in the North America or Europe. Or all of them. I also leave you with the rights to the patents from Balance Software- it is the company that designed the computer programs we use in our work, along with the condos at Vail and Killington. Look after my boys.
"Tim Drake, your leaving nearly made me forget our duty, but I see I have trained you well enough that you never forgot it. You were my best student. I would ask one thing of you: give up the title of Robin. That is the name of a student, a child, and you are no longer either of those. Keep the bad guys guessing, maybe you can convince your brother to let you have his old name. I want you and Dick to share the equipment caches and hidden workshops. I hope you can find a use for the even numbered accounts with Micheloud & Cie of Switzerland, along with 25% of the my shares of Wayne Enterprises. You shall need to stop living as you are, however, stop squatting. For this, I leave you the villa in the Catskills, the penthouses in London and Tokyo, and the facility at Gull Island. You and the Titans have made it a home, rather than an abandoned R&D facility." Smiling, the image of Bruce shifted its head, somehow knowing were Tim would sit, boring into his eyes. "Fight the darkness within as much as the darkness without, my son."
"Finally, but not least, Dick Greyson: I call you son also. Your adoption papers, and Tim's, are in the package of legal papers behind the Matisse. You have become my ally, and the mirror that shows my mistakes. Yes, I made them, you taught me that. The Batcave and Wayne Manor are yours, along with the houses in Miami and Martha's Vineyard, along with the penthouse in Metropolis. With these properties, you will also have control of the odd numbered Swiss accounts, and 45% of my Wayne Enterprises stock- you have the single largest vote in a corporation more powerful than most nations, be careful with it. To assist you in what I am about to ask, I suggest that you request Alfred's continued companionship. The task I ask of you is heavy in deed. I want you to take over for me, I want you to become Batman in appearance and duty. As I said to Tim, keep the bad guys guessing. And if you take my other name, I wouldn't be insulted.
"These bequeaths and burdens are to be implemented immediately, with the remainder of my will to be implemented as soon as Bruce Wayne is legally dead. Avenge me with justice, not with barbarism."
---
Hawkgirl set the Javelin down gently on the northern shore, just above the high tide line. She had flown low over the island, and slow, to make sure someone saw and heard her. As the only female member of the League now, it had fallen on her to deliver the news to Diana's people.
In the co-pilot's seat sat a pitifully small collection of trinkets. A diary; at least that was the assumption, it was in a language Hawkgirl didn't recognize. A few tiny, authentic Amazon pieces of art work that had somehow managed to leave the island. A worn leather jacket sent to her by a mysterious "old friend", like the ones from World War Two. A presentation box with a pair of Kasnian coins, one showing her image. That was all that there was to show that Wonder Woman, Diana, Princess of the Amazons, had been a part of the world.
As she stood, Hawkgirl flipped the switch that lowered the ramp. Cradling Diana's possessions in her arm, Shayera moved to sit at the bottom of the ramp to wait. Watching the gulls wheel and dive at the waves, she found herself both alone and undistracted for the first time since the fight. She had mourned Grundy. Yes, he had been a villain, but he was looking for something that she couldn't describe. And in the end, he became an ally. Wonder Woman had been an ally, and a team mate, for as long as Hawgirl had known her. When they had first met, Hawkgirl didn't think that the haughty Amazon would ever fit in, and even disliked her. But, in a way, they had almost became friends.
The whinny of an approaching horse brought Hawgirl back to what she was supposed to be doing. She rose gracefully to her feet as the horse left the tree line. "Hail and greeting, Hawkgirl."
"Hail, Queen Hippolyta." Swallowing, Hawkgirl glanced down at the coin that sat on the top of the pile in her arm. It commemorated rescue of the world, half of them stamped with Wonder Woman's likeness, the other half with Batman's. "I wish I could greet you kindly, Your Majesty, but I-"
"I know, the Gods told me of her passing." The Queen of the Amazons tightened the grip on her reigns, her nails biting into her palms. "Did she die in battle?"
The feelings of loss and rage at the moment her... teammates disappeared, vaporized, flushed through Hawkgirl for a moment, before she could find her voice. "Yes. She and Batman were killed." Knowing inside that what she was saying could bring no comfort, Shayera couldn't stop her lips from moving. "They felt no pain."
Hippolyta scanned the small items in Hawkgirl's arms, looking for the distinctive red, blue and gold costume her daughter had worn the last time she had been on the island. The time her heroism was rewarded with banishment. "Did you bring her body?"
"No; her body was destroyed in the blast. These are her personal effects, we felt they should come home." Seeing the lines etch deeper into the immortal woman's face, Shayera's body tightened slightly. "I'm sorry. I hope it comforts you to know that she died protecting innocent people."
With a short, pained nod, the queen closed her eyes. Without opening them, she tugged the reins of her horse around, letting her mount find the way back home. "There will be a ceremony tonight, I hope you will stay."
Without a word, Hawkgirl flexed her wings, letting the sea wind catch in her feathers, and wordlessly followed.
As evening fell, all of the Amazon's had gathered in the area around the temple. Hawkgirl had told the story of the battle with Toyman, Metallo and the others many times. In exchange, she learned much of young Diana. She also noticed everyone seemed to glance nervously at a tiny flame that lay burning at one of the shrines. Based on the marks on the floor, Hawkgirl figured it was normally larger. As the last light touched Thermascera, they all gathered around a large stack of wood and kindling, laced with olive oil and herbs.
Hippolyta lit a torch from one of the braziers, lifting it high. "Diana, our Princess, the only Amazon not formed by god and goddess, has fallen." With firm, slow steps, the Queen approached what Hawkgirl realised should have been a pyre. Ceremonially, Her Majesty lowered the torch to the pile, letting it lap at the oil. As it lit, the flames bred through the wood. "She was my life."
Each of the Amazons spoke in turn, each saying something small about Diana. Just a word or two, maybe a sentence, summing up their strongest connection to their Princess. Teacher. Healer. Student. Work partner. Servant. When the last of the warrior women spoke, all eyes turned to Shayera. Unsteadily, she stared into the flames, knowing they would soon pass to embers, knowing she had to speak before then. Then her heart spoke. "Diana, she was my friend."
---
Author's notes:
Ok, first the icky stuff. I went a long time without picking up comics, and it was Bruce Timm's continuum in the animated series that brought me back the DC universe. As a result, I use the storyline he developed- ie, no Oracle.
In the Gold Age, Wonder Woman was created by the gods from clay. I hate that story, it dates back to when she made coffee and took short hand at the Justice League meetings, rather than being the ass kicking Amazon we know today. I know, it fit the old tales about the Amazons, but I still think it sucks. I see something implied in the JL:TAS storyline, I might be alone, I don't know. Hippolyta loved Hades, once. Maybe Diana is the result. If she is, I doubt she would have been told.
I know that the Last Will and Testament of Batman was a big part of this. It wasn't done accidentally. Batman was Batman because of good schooling, training, lots of gizmos, and a disgustingly large amount of money. Diana was who she was because of who she was because of her birthright and a gift from a goddess. (Think about it, no one came looking for the holy bustier that was no longer in the temple, so Hera probably gave it as a gift, maybe Athena.) Diana's life was simple, and became complicated with the League; Bruce's life was complicated and stayed that way.
Parts of Batman's will help to iron out bits of the later points in Timm's timeline that I find messy. Like Commissioner Barbara Gordon telling Terry that she had once had an affair with Bruce. Ok, that's just icky to me. This makes it a little bit easier to deal with. It also nicely cancels out the argument in the Teen Titans storyline about which Robin it is, and which Nightwing Starfire met in the future.