Story 6: Feels Like Forever
Author's Note: "Feels Like Forever" is divided into two parts. Part one, this part, is written from Diana's point of view and covers events directly after the nuclear explosion. Part two will be from Clark's point of view and will cover events after they are both healed – essentially the second half of issue 7.
Part 1: Diana
While death was a natural extension of life, a ticking clock that began at birth, Diana had never given her own death much thought – not really. Even when she fought villains and ungodly creatures, the possibility of death one wrong move or decision away, Diana refused to entertain the thought that death could claim her, sending her soul to her uncle, Hell. Yet a warrior's death, for an Amazon, was preferable to a coward's demise.
For while Diana may have been an Amazon, she was also Wonder Woman. And Wonder Woman would gladly die a thousand times if it meant saving the lives of innocents. There was a sad warrior's glory in such a sacrifice. But there was just enough selfishness in Diana that almost had her praying to the gods of her youth – gods who'd turned out to be her family and as deadly and untrustworthy as Zod and Faora.
So when she and Clark did the unthinkable, perhaps even unforgivable, Diana had cast her faith inward instead of outward. For, in the end, what good were capricious Greek gods? If she and Clark were to survive, it would be because of one reason. We're stronger together than we are apart.
When they sliced an atom, Clark's superior vision helping Diana guide her sword, death imminent, regret blossomed in her heart, stronger than the explosion to come. He loves me. Loves. Me.
But time for regret at what she did not say, a vulnerability of the heart that frightened Diana more than the prospect of dying, was nothing more than a fleeting heartbeat. From one exhale to the next and with inhuman speed only Superman was capable, Diana felt herself being quickly wrapped in something. Dully, she realized it was Superman's cape that encapsulated her. A swaddling blanket the likes she'd never known – protecting and shielding Diana from the worst of the blast.
She wanted to fight, to scream, to make Clark take back one of the few mementoes his birth parents had left for him. The red cloak was for Kal-El, not Diana of Themyscria. It was his heritage, his legacy, his protection against all the dark places his parents knew he would travel. And he gave it to me.
Regret and guilt slammed into Diana. A tidal wave that had her gasping, breathing deeply and forcing her eyes open.
Had it all been a terrible nightmare? For a second, she thought it had, so warm was she wrapped in her bedcovers, Clark's arms holding her, their bodies spooned together in her bed. But the stale smell, the morbid silence, and the utter stillness told Diana none of it had been a dream. A nightmare, true, but not a forgettable, discardable dream that vanished with the coming of morning and the rising of the sun.
For a moment, Diana didn't move, didn't want to face the fallout. Worst, Diana was afraid to know what had happened to the unmoving man she was cradled against. The man who had professed his love then given Diana the cape off his back – an honorable action of the man and the hero.
With excruciating effort, Diana managed to push herself to a seated position. And the sight before her had her eyes bulging, mouth falling open and voice coming out in a shocked scream. "Clark? Clark?"
On the charred earth, body smoking from the explosion, torn uniform revealing bruised skin, was Superman, Clark Kent. If Diana hadn't been so concerned, so desperate to help him, she would have laid back down beside Clark and wept. While no part of Diana did not ache from pain, making her question the extent of her internal injuries, Clark appeared nothing short of a cadaver. Gray pallor, diminished mass, and shriveled features had Diana reaching for him.
She stopped, unsure whether her touch would cause him more pain. Despite his grave appearance, Diana knew Clark yet lived. But for how long without access to the sun?
Turning and casting her eyes upward, another pang of guilt and regret assaulted Diana. "What have we done?"
Destruction everywhere. The extent of which she couldn't discern, but nothing in the vicinity, save Clark and Diana, lived. That she knew without a doubt. And the sky, once clear and beautiful, was now covered in thick, ugly ash, blocking out what Clark needed the most. The sun's rays.
Biting back the pain each movement produced and with one goal in mind, Diana gritted her teeth, turned away from the lover who protected her instead of himself, and began the painfully torturous trek out of the hole.
Holding onto a charred tree, Diana breathed slowly, willing her head to stop spinning and her legs to carry her weight. She need only reach the downed plane, which, thankfully, had fallen near them and was covered in ash, making the invisible visible.
Holding her left side and ribs she knew to be broken, Diana struggled but eventually reached the plane. Partially climbing onto a wing, she hauled herself up just enough to push the roof back, reach inside and push the button she was looking for.
On her way to the plane, Diana tried not to think about what would happen to them if her plan failed because the plane was too damaged to work. If she were in better condition and the plane undamaged, Diana could simply fly them both away from this wretched place. But when the plane lifted just enough to emit the blast into the sky Diana was hoping it would, the movement dislodged her from the wing, sending her crashing to the ground, head, shoulders, and back cracking from the brutal contact.
Maybe it would be enough, she thought, the dark clouds parting for just a second to let in a stream of light, reminding Diana that, above the murkiness that shrouded them, the sun shone bright, capable of rejuvenating the Man of Steel. But she wouldn't be able to fly Clark there in the plane, lest she risked the lives of them both and the people below. What if you crash the plane? Haven't you done enough damage for one day? Indeed she had but—
Three people . . . ghosts . . . materialized above Diana. "Hh?" They wore some sort of uniform and gas masks that covered their faces. Worst, they held huge guns. Before Diana could think, no less defend herself, one of the ghosts raised their weapon, pointed it directly at her and fired. "Agh."
Dead center hit had Diana flying backward and slamming into a solid wall of rock and dirt. It hurt like hell – her chest and stomach especially, which had taken the brunt of the shot. She didn't know how much more damage her body could take before it shut down on her. Divine blood did not mean she healed instantaneously. That's not how it worked. And, truthfully, she'd never taken this much damage in such a short amount of time to know how long before she would be healed enough to be of use to Clark or herself. But one thing was for sure, if the ghosts standing over her now, all poised for a second attack, shot her again, divine blood would not save her. I'll be dead, then who will help Clark?
Like a mirage, the vision before her was a sight for tired eyes. Gone were the deadly weapons, obliterated into insubstantial pieces of metal. Clark's heat vision. Thank you. Again.The ghosts, apparently, were as surprised to find their weapons gone as Diana. Then, like evaporating smoke, they too were gone.
Diana thought she had failed, thought the blast into the deadly cloud cover had not been enough to restore Superman. But, as she peered across the chasm her heart leapt.
There, on hands and knees and crawling towards her, was the most glorious sight she'd ever beheld. Reaching out a hand to the one extended to her, Diana knew everything between them would change after today. How could it not?
"Diana . . . are you . . ."
His voice matched his body, weedy and drained. But Clark was still her Superman, still the man who, despite his physical frailty, was making his way to her side. Still trying to protect me. Always trying to protect me.
"I'm . . . here, Clark. Not . . . good, but I'm here." No one but Wonder Woman and Superman could've survived this, but they hadn't yet, not truly. "We . . . did it, I think. Atomic explosion we set off . . ."
"Zod and Faora . . . gone, sealed . . . back in the Phantom Zone. But those ghosts?"
Diana hoped what Clark said about Zod and Faora was true. Because if they weren't then all of this destruction and pain had been for naught.
And the ghosts? "Don't . . . Don't know. They just attacked." If she ever had the pleasure of meeting them again, they would find Diana no easy prey, as she was now.
Dragging his cape along with him, like a toddler securing his blanket, Clark, by slow degrees, made his way to Diana. Once near, he held her aching head in his trembling hand.
"We've got to go. We're too weak to fight if anything else . . ."
"Clark, I . . . know. But . . . how? I'm . . . not sure I can even fly." Diana hated admitting to such a weakness, hated thinking, because of it, they might be stranded.
"We're not … going to die in a hole," Clark rasped. "Maybe together, we can get . . . above the clouds, into the sun . . ."
Together. Yes, that was the only way. They'd gotten into this mess together and together they would survive. They would live. By working together.
They did exactly that, helping each other to their feet. It took an embarrassingly long time to do so but they managed – together. Then they were in the air, each with a steadying arm around the other's waist.
Clark was so thin, Diana able to feel his pointy bones as she held him and he held her. But they'd made it above the ash and into the bright light of the full day.
And when the sun's rays had connected with Clark's skin, his scream of pain had Diana looking on in frustrated helplessness.
"Sun . . . burns. Cells absorbed too much radiation in . . . explosion . . . Getting power but it . . . it hurts." That much was clear, Clark's raised arm a feeble attempt to protect him from the sun. "I can still fly, though. We need to get you somewhere you can . . . heal." Even in pain, Clark was still thinking of her, still trying to protect Diana. "Olympus?" he suggested. "Maybe your family can—"
Diana would rather die from her injuries than seek aid from her so-called Olympus family. Although, if she thought Apollo would help Clark, Diana would swallow her pride and anger and seek his assistance.
"No. Apollo attacked us. Directly. He's the . . . god of the sun, but . . . prefers shadows. To move against us so directly . . . we can't go anywhere . . . near him." The betrayal should not have hurt. In fact, Diana should have expected it from Apollo. Still, he was her brother, which seemed to only have meaning to Diana. "Not Olympus. Get me . . ." she began, knowing there was only person who could help her. A person she trusted without question. "Get me to Hessia. She was a healer before . . ." Diana said no more. Hessia's past was her own.
"I'll get you to her." Clark grabbed her again and began to fly, his breathing labored from the exertion and pain from absorbing the sun's rays while expelling the toxic radiation.
"No, Clark, you can't—the sun . . ."
Diana squirmed in his arms. It would be difficult, but Diana could make it to Hessia on her own. Clark needed to get to the Fortress and out of the sun.
"I'll get you to her," he said stubbornly. Then, to prove his point, Clark fully lifted Diana into his arms and flew faster.
By the time they reached London and Hessia's dojo, Clark's strength had improved, morphing him from a bedraggled corpse to a battle-weary hero. For Diana, however, the sun had done nothing for her, making the flight a painful and exhausting experience.
"Hessia . . . can you . . ." Clark, winded from carrying Diana while healing through pain, could barely speak.
Diana didn't bother turning to see her trusted friend's concerned face. Hessia's alarmed words of, "Dear god, get her inside!" telling the story well enough. Nor was Diana surprised at what Hessia said next. Despite it all, Hessia was a healer, no matter the patient. "I'll do my best. For both of you. But you . . . you're not from Earth. I'm not sure I know how to—"
"I'll be all right. Just . . . save her."
Despite Clark's worry and Diana's extensive injuries—internal and external—she would not die. Thanks to Clark and his cape, Diana had survived the worst of it. But without Hessia's help, the healing process would be a long and painful one.
With a tenderness so typical of Clark Kent, Superman, Kal-El, Clark laid Diana on a pallet on the floor, her head propped on a neck roll pillow.
Immediately, Hessia was by her side, kneeling next to Diana, her motherly hand gently stroking Diana's hair, her words of, "Easy, sister, easy," soothing.
Holding himself up against the doorjamb, Clark looked on, face taut with pain and distress.
"I . . ." he began, his voice stronger than it had been just five minutes ago, and definitely stronger still from when he'd first awakened from the explosion. Still . . .
"Will you go, you silly fool?" She wished he would. Clark had done all he could for Diana, this day. It was time he did something for himself. And that meant he had to leave her.
Instead, when Hessia rose and made her way to her first-aid cabinet, Clark took her place at Diana's side.
"This is my fault. Zod, Faora . . . they were my people."
True, but that did not make any of this his fault.
"I made my . . . choice. I live with it—so should you."
The way he looked at her said Clark's guilt ran far too deeply for him to let it go and move on. Now was not the time to convince him otherwise. She simply needed to persuade him to leave and tend to his own wounds.
"Diana . . . I . . ."
He didn't repeat the words, "I love you," but the sentiment was there, in the haunted but cherished way Clark held her gaze.
"I know. You already said it." And I did not say the same in return. Dammit. What must he think of that . . . of me? "I know," she repeated, needing him to know she understood all he'd done, every decision, even the ones he may now regret, was done because of his love for her. Praying he caught the unstated, Diana said one final thing she hoped would convince him that it was okay to leave her and take care of himself. "We'll be together again soon."
For a moment, Diana thought Clark would remain stubborn and stay, so still was he. His shadowed eyes cast down to her depleted body, lips set in a conflicted frown.
Then, without a word, he was gone, which both pleased and saddened her. No, after today, nothing between them would ever be the same. What Diana had yet to determine was whether the change to come will be one they could deal with together or if it will tear them apart.
Story 6: Feels Like Forever (Part 2)
Part 2: Clark
Hours had passed since Clark left Diana in the care of her Amazon sister, Hessia, and three since he'd awoken, cells repaired, body—thankfully—free of pain and harmful radiation. Now he sat on his bed in the Fortress of Solitude, staring at the cell phone in his hand.
"Call her. You know you want to. Just call her already."
He'd been telling himself the same thing for the last two hours. After having showered and eaten a heavy meal, Clark could think of nothing else but Diana and her health. She hadn't called to check on him either, which could mean any number of things, Clark knew. But one reason kept rising to the fore, an intrusive and unwelcomed thought. She doesn't want to talk to you because you nearly got her killed. Yeah, that was the one.
Clark allowed another hour to slip by before his indecision and brooding disgusted even him.
He called her, doing what he should've done hours ago. Yet what he truly wanted to do was fly to London and see for himself whether she was okay or not. Instead, he took the coward's way out, hoping to spare himself the disappointment of a face-to-face rejection.
The line rang five times, giving Clark far too much time to reconsider this course of action. Between the fifth and the sixth ring, Clark decided to hang up and wait for Diana to contact him first. "We'll be together again soon," she said to him, right before he left her to be tended to by Hessia. But did she mean it? And if she had, how did she mean "together"? Friends? Colleagues? Lovers?
Clark's thumb hovered over the red End Call icon on his phone, ready to put a stop to this torture.
"Hello."
A woman's voice, but not Diana's.
Stupidly, Clark couldn't locate his tongue or his wits.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Ah, yes, yes. It's Clark," he finally blurted. "Is this Hessia?" It sounded like her, although Clark had never talked to the woman on the phone before. He had called Diana's private bedroom line. Considering he'd left Diana in Hessia's care, it would make sense she would have taken Diana home and was still with her. Hessia, like Diana, was a loyal and true friend. In time, Clark hoped to get to know the woman better.
"Clark, it is good to hear from you. You sound much better."
"I feel better. Thank you for your concern." And it was genuine concern he heard in Hessia's mature voice. The same he'd detected when she'd offered to help Diana as well as himself. While he'd had no idea how she would heal Diana, Clark had doubted there was anything she could do for him. But the fact that she was willing to try explained why Diana loved and trusted her.
"I know it's late, but I was hoping to speak with Diana. Is she feeling better? May I speak with her?"
"I'm sorry, Clark, but Diana is sleeping. To set your mind at ease, she's fine, just exhausted. After I brought her home, I gave her a little something to help her sleep deeply. It will be hours yet before she awakes."
The news of Diana's recovery was good to hear. He'd feared she wouldn't be, especially after watching that ghost soldier blast her. Already injured, Diana had been defenseless against the cruel and unwarranted attack. Hell, she'd even been too weak and stunned to block the blast with her trademark bracers. Instead, she'd taken the shot full-on, sending her flying through the air and down in an agonized heap.
If it weren't for the bit of sun's rays Diana had struggled to get for him, Clark would've been unable to do more than watch as the three ghost soldiers blasted away at Diana until she was no more. With a reserve that came from both anger and love, Clark had let loose his own blast, destroying the attackers' weapons. Luckily, without their weapons, they decided it best not to stick around, which meant they were even more cowardly than Clark thought.
So while hearing Diana's melodic voice would have been just what Clark needed to send him into his own peaceful sleep, knowing she was no longer in pain was the next best thing.
"I'm just glad she's all right. Thank you."
Hessia's laugh was low and soft. "Your gratitude is appreciated but unnecessary. I did nothing more for Diana than what she would do for me, what she has done for me. I'm just pleased you were there for her, that you brought the princess to me."
Though he knew he shouldn't, Clark took Hessia's words as an opening.
"After I left, did Diana say anything about what happened? Did she tell you how she was injured?"
"She didn't have to. News of the battle with your kin and the subsequent explosion made the news long before you reached me."
Zod and Faora were not Clark's kin, but they were his kind. And he should have known reporters would be all over the event, especially the atomic explosion. Grateful he was in the Fortress, which shielded his sensitive ears from picking up the news feeds and the global chatter about Wonder Woman and Superman.
"So Diana said nothing?" Hessia was an intelligent woman. Would she make him spell it out for her? She was Diana's trusted friend, surely Diana had confided in Hessia about her feelings for Clark.
Another laugh, just as low but more knowing this time. "You may not be from Earth, but you are as any man."
Clark didn't know how to take Hessia's words. Had she just insulted him?
"What does that mean?"
"It means Diana is an Amazon – raised among strong, stubborn, and prideful women."
"I know."
"You know but you do not understand. The difference is significant."
Clark plopped fully onto his bed, head sinking onto a plush pillow. All he wanted to know was whether Diana blamed him, still wanted to be with him. Love me. He hadn't called to receive a lecture on Amazons by Hessia the Healer turned martial arts instructor.
"You know what I want to know but you won't tell me, will you?"
"I know many things, Clark. But what you wish to know is not mine to give. Besides, would it mean as much if you heard it from me instead of Diana?"
She was right. Damn her.
"I suppose not. But Diana reveals little of what she feels deeply."
"There you are wrong. You are looking for flowery, feminine words, which mean little to an Amazon. In the future, Clark, focus on what she does instead of lamenting over what she may not say." When Clark said nothing, thinking over her words, Hessia continued. "When Diana awakes, I will let her know you called. Be well Clark Kent."
With that, Hessia ended the call, leaving Clark to his thoughts and a silent Fortress.
The next day when Clark called, Diana answered, sounding as healthy as ever. But the phone call didn't go at all how he'd hoped. By the end of the most stilted and awkward conversation they'd ever had, they'd agreed to take some time apart. How in the hell had that happened?
"So much has happened lately - the outing of our relationship, Zod and Faora, and the explosion. We're in every newspaper and magazine and on every news and cable show," Diana said, her tone exasperated. "Zola came across an Internet site where there were actual bets on what Wonder Woman and Superman would do next – publically have sex or blow up a small country."
He'd actually heard worse speculations than that, none of which he thought wise to share with an annoyed Diana.
"And you think it best for us to lay low for a while, to keep all our interactions professional?"
"I don't know. I think so. What do you think?"
What did he think? Clark really didn't know. Like Diana, he despised the inordinate amount of attention everyone was paying them. But that didn't necessarily mean he wanted a break from her, from their relationship. Yet emotions were high and things between them tense. Perhaps they should take some time apart, get a bit of perspective that distance tended to bring.
Clark had confessed his love for Diana and she hadn't done the same. He'd embroiled her in a fight to the death with Kryptonians and she'd almost died as a result. Diana had said they'd be together soon, but had she only said that out of gratitude for him delivering her safely to Hessia or guilt for not feeling about him as Clark did for her?
He didn't know. Clark was confused about where they went from here, although Diana had said nothing about officially ending things between them. Right now, she only wondered if they both needed a break, a bit of time to themselves.
It wasn't a break-up he told himself. It was just some time apart, nothing more.
"Yeah, well, I guess we can do that. We're both pretty busy, as it is. No need to try to cram in dating in an already full schedule. Anyway, it's not as if we won't see each other. There's always the Justice League."
"Right, there's always the League," she agreed, with a hint of an emotion that could've been regret, sadness, disappointment, or a combination of the three. "We'll see each other professionally."
The "but not alone," went unsaid. And why should Diana want to spend time alone with him? The last time they did they'd set off a nuclear explosion, nearly killing them both. Maybe she viewed it as a sign that they shouldn't be together, no matter their feelings for each other.
Diana did have strong feelings for Clark. This he knew, despite her lack of a declaration of love. That wasn't his concern. No, Clark feared that Diana, an Amazon demigoddess, would never give her heart completely to a man, to him. And if she doesn't, what will you do, Clark?
Well, what he did was swallow his pride, buried himself in work and tried—futilely—to not think about Diana. And, as he'd said, they did see each other. With them both being founding members of the League, it was impossible for them not to. But they were never alone together, another Leaguer was always around. Or, more often than not, Diana was too busy with Zola, Zeke, and her family of treacherous gods to stick around after a mission to talk and catch up.
Which was why her phone call had been such a shock and why Clark was now nervously waiting in the sky over London for Diana to arrive. To his delight, Diana had called him last night, inquiring as to his schedule for the next day. He had a twelve item to-do list, all of which dropped to the bottom of the list after Diana's subtle invitation.
"Nothing that can't be reschedule," he'd answered. "What do you have in mind?"
"Nothing special. I just thought we could spend some time together . . . catch up. We've both been busy, but I was hoping . . ."
Clark had smiled at the uncertainty in Diana's voice. The woman rarely exhibited anything short of absolute surety. Not that he took enjoyment in her discomfiture, anything but. He was just relieved to know he wasn't out on the relationship ledge by himself. By the time the call concluded, Clark had agreed to meet Diana at 1:30. It was nearly that time now.
Clark found himself smiling again. As always, he detected her approach long before she reached him. Diana may not be quite as fast as him, but her movement through the air barely disturbed the currents. Clark had noticed that others who flew cut through the sky like the proverbial bull in a china shop – aggressive and uncaring of their surroundings. But not Diana. Hell, even Clark had to sometimes remind himself that flying required a delicate touch.
When Diana was only a mile away, Clark turned in the direction from which she was coming. Two minutes later, she was nearly to their rendezvous site – Elizabeth Tower.
Forcing himself to wait, Clark stopped himself when he would've dashed to meet her. He felt like that nervous teen he'd once been, belly full of jitters and hands sweaty. He wiped them on his pant leg, which gave him something to do other than think about Diana for all of ten seconds.
But then she was there, flying towards him with the most heart stopping smile on her face. He gulped, lifted a hand in a wave and told himself to calm the hell down. He was no longer that shy, inexperienced kid he'd once been, unsure of who and what he was. Nor was Diana a girl he had to hide part of himself from, scared witless of what she'd think if she knew he wasn't as human as he appeared. She wasn't afraid of him. More importantly, Diana accepted all of Clark – the man, the hero, the alien.
"Hi. Glad you could fit me into your busy schedule." Diana's eyes twinkled in that special way of hers when she was poking fun at him. "I know how busy Superman can be."
"No more busy than Wonder Woman."
For a minute the awkwardness he'd felt upon first seeing Diana slipped away, only to return when silence drifted between them, neither seeming to know what to say next. They stared at each other, the silence growing and morphing into something weird and uncomfortable.
Here they were, superheroes who'd survived a nuclear explosion and they couldn't manage more than a line or two between them. They were better than this. Weren't they?
Clark took hold of Diana's hand, not realizing how much he needed that physical contact until her hand was in his – warm and soft. And when she smiled at him, holding his hand as firmly as he was holding onto to her, he remembered why he loved her and that he'd told her his most inner secret. You're all I've been thinking about, he now thought. Another secret. But this one he would keep to himself. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if she'd been thinking of him, too.
Holding hands, they began to fly, no particular destination in mind.
Turning to Clark, Diana asked, "How long has it been?"
Down to the half-second, Clark knew precisely how long it had been since they'd last been alone together. But what he said was, "Feels like forever."
Diana's only reply was a smile and a nod, which, from Clark's perspective, could've meant she felt the same or he was being overly sweet and complimentary. Since she said nothing, Clark didn't expound, despite the million dollar question he wanted to ask her. He assumed . . . he hoped when Diana was ready she would tell him. Instead of letting it sit between us, as if I hadn't laid my heart bare.
So they flew around London for an hour, holding hands, both occupied with silent, unspoken thoughts. Unable to take it anymore, Clark stopped, which forced Diana to do the same.
"Is this awkward?" he tossed out, needing to just state the obvious. "I don't want it to be awkward." Too late for that. It already is.
So like Diana, his bluntness, though slow in coming, did not faze her. "This is our first true moment alone in . . . too long. We've both changed. Of course it's going to feel a little strange."
That had Clark giving into a sigh of relief. She finally admitted that their time apart had been "too long". That was a very good sign. And, yes, so much had transpired these last couple of weeks.
"Yes, about that. I feel like there's a lot to catch up on. I mean . . . you're the God of War?"
During one of their brief phone conversations, Diana had told Clark of Lennox's death, her battle with the First Born and how she'd been forced to kill her brother War to prevent the First Born from taking on that mantle. He'd wanted to go to her then, to comfort her. But then, like now, things between them were awkward, strange. Thinking back on it now, Clark regretted not having paid Diana a face-to-face visit. He'd wanted her to ask, to invite him to her home. But she hadn't, and Clark had taken that to mean she didn't want to see him beyond the professional limits they'd temporarily placed on their relationship. Now, however, Clark thought Diana's reticence to seek out his comfort had more to do with what it meant to be an Amazon and less to do with Clark.
Loving someone, Clark reminded himself, was not the same as having a clear understanding of them.
"How does that work?" Clark asked, as they drifted down to settle on top of the Gherkin, a contemporary architectural beauty of a skyscraper, at forty-one floors and set in London's main financial district. "Do people . . . pray to you? Are you supposed to make more war?"
Okay, that just sounded stupid, but Clark was out of his depth here. He had no idea what any of this meant. Was it a simple transfer of power or had Diana changed—physically—in some fundamental way, making her a full-god instead of the half-god, half-human demigoddess she'd always been. And would it be impolite to ask? Was it truly any of his business? More, how did she feel about having more in common with her Olympus family than ever before?
Now seated and overlooking the bustling city, in a state of rebuilding after the First Born and his army of hyena-men tried to claim it, Diana clarified Clark's faulty thinking.
"It's not like that. I'm the personification of an idea. I can feel war. I . . . understand it. Why it happens, where it happens. It's all very new. I want to change the idea, if I can. In some ways, I get to decide how the world sees war." For a moment, Diana's thoughts turned inward, as if she were trying to make sense of it all herself. "If I can, I'll end it forever. And if I can't, maybe I can pass along some of my understanding. Make it more of an absolute last resort."
From where Clark sat, that sounded like a heavy burden and not at all what he thought a God of War did. But this was Diana, an Amazon and warrior but also a harbinger of peace, even if peace could only be gained through war. He had no idea how she would handle such a role. In his mind, it was a dichotomous relationship but one he had total faith Diana would find a way to manage.
"I'm all for that," he said honestly, pleased they seemed to be falling back into a more natural routine of talking and sharing. But Clark doubted this was what Diana had in mind when she invited him to London. "But do you really want to spend our time together sitting on top of a building?"
Not that he minded, of course, if that was indeed all she wanted to do. Being with Diana again had already made his Saturday. Made even better when Diana slid closer to Clark and snuggled her luscious frame against his solid body. This was nothing like the last time they'd held each other – both hurt and struggling to fly, Clark looking like death warmed over.
Head on his shoulder and hand pressed to his rapidly beating heart, Clark smiled down at Diana, basking in her sweet scent, her feminine curves, and her rare display of vulnerability. As much as Clark loved and respected Diana's strength and warrior spirit, he also loved the softer side of her, loved when she permitted him to take care of her without feeling that it made her less of a strong woman, less of an Amazon. Every now and again, a man needed that, even when that man was Superman and the woman in question was Wonder Woman.
So, yes, Clark reveled in this moment. In Diana's silent way, she was telling him how much she'd missed him. Perhaps it felt like forever to her as well.
"This is your city," he began. "Is there anywhere we should go? The world seems to be taking a breath. Let's use that—do something fun."
That suggestion had her head lifting from his shoulder, a wide grin on her face. Then, to his disappointment, she was out of his arms and floating before him.
"Actually, there's a place not far from here that I like very much. We'll need to change, though."
Okay, now she was talking. If wherever Diana wanted to take Clark to could produce the smile currently on her face, Clark was definitely onboard.
"Change? Maybe that's the story from now on. Let's go."
They did, back to her place. A new home she'd been forced to purchase after the old one was destroyed by her half-sister Moon. Yet another change. But they'd lingered, killed a few hours with more talk and a light dinner. Apparently, the place Diana wanted to take Clark to didn't really get going until after nine. So they got there at five of ten, sun down and the evening crowd out and ready to party.
Before they landed, Clark heard the music – loud but good. Shocked Diana would even know of such a place, no less frequent one, Clark followed her as she wade through the crowd waiting to enter. With a nod and wave to the outside bouncer, Diana went inside, Clark on her heels, murmurs of, "I've seen her here before. She looks like a shorter, less serious and scary version of Wonder Woman."
Clark chuckled, and wondered how many other Londoners thought the same. Because, really, how in the world did Diana get away with walking around London, or anyplace for that matter, with no disguise and without people bombarding her, knowing she was the famed Wonder Woman?
"She must be, you know," a thin twenty-something guy said, giving Diana a long, appreciative appraisal, "into cosplay, because she's a dead ringer for the Amazon princess. I've even seen her here with the tiara and silver bracelets on. No red-and-blue bathing suit, unfortunately, but definitely the other stuff. Well, not the lasso or sword, but she had red star earrings on and the WW choker."
"No doubt all that stuff were cheap fakes," the guy's female companion said, not bothering to hide her jealously in a whisper. "Just like those boobs you keep gawking at. Really, Harry, if you're that much into a Wonder Woman wannabe, why don't you bulk up so you can pretend to be Superman, because you're frightfully skinny." The woman huffed, blowing a stray pink-and-blonde curl out of her eyes. "I doubt she'd give you the time of day – fake Wonder Woman or not."
By the time the guy replied, Clark and Diana were already in the club.
"Hey, Diana . . . welcome back," an older man with white hair pulled into a neat ponytail said, his grin broad, genuine, and all for Diana.
"Hi, Floyd. Who's on tonight?" Diana asked, her gaze more on the crowd than Floyd.
"New guys. You'll like 'em, though. Dancey. Who's your friend?"
Apparently, Diana really did frequent this place, if the manager knew her well enough to know her taste in music. Clearly, Diana's attention was on the new band and their music, so Clark stepped in and introduced himself. "Hi, Floyd. Clark." The men shook hands, while Diana was enraptured by the club scene.
"And American, too!" Floyd said, having caught Clark's distinctly non-London accent. "Ey, boyo, you want to know a secret. Lean in, let Floyd tell you something interesting."
In truth, Clark had no interest in hearing a secret from a man he'd just met less than two minutes ago, no matter how affable Floyd seemed to be. And Diana was walking away from him, joining the crowd of dancers, the band Pied Pipers to the princess.
Floyd leaned in. "Lovely Diana, there, she comes here all the time. See her a lot. But you know what?"
"What's that?" Now Clark did want to know Floyd's secret, since it was about Diana and a side of her he'd never known existed.
"I have never seen her bring a fella with her. So count your blessings, you know? Woman's a goddess."
Clark had no idea why Floyd thought it important to share such a thing with him, but a part of Clark preened at that bit of unasked for knowledge. Again, this was part of the change he mentioned earlier. Slowly but surely, they were beginning to let each other into their lives, revealing more of themselves to the other. Diana may not have said those three important words back to Clark, but Diana's actions, as the saying goes, spoke louder than words.
Both Clark and Floyd looked at Diana on the dance floor, in the middle of the crowd, arms raised, hips swaying and grooving to the music.
And what had Floyd called her? A goddess? Yeah, the man had no clue how right he was. "Truer words, Floyd. Truer words."
With that, Clark pushed his way through the throng of people and to Diana. The woman may have never brought another guy to the club with her, but as beautiful as she was and the sexy way she moved to the music, Clark had no doubt she garnered more than her share of admirers, men—and women—hoping to be the one to leave with her.
Clark sidled up next to Diana, energized by the people and the good music. The lead singer had a bit of Pat Benatar voice going on, which Clark could definitely get into.
"I love to dance," Diana said, talking without losing her rhythm. "Do you? I've never asked you. In my experience, not all me like to—"
Clark didn't want to hear about her experience with other men, particularly if it included one Steve Trevor. Besides, as Diana well knew, Clark wasn't like other men.
"Heh," he interrupted. Then, deciding to show instead of tell, Clark pulled Diana to him. "Come on."
Deeper into the throng they went, Diana smiling and dancing all the while. So was Clark. He couldn't recall the last time he'd let loose and had this much fun – with anyone, no less with Diana.
She danced in front of him, arms in the air, fingers snapping, and those tantalizing hips swaying from side-to-side, creating her own music. With a twirl, Diana faced him, arm casually slinging over his shoulder, body close, red, spaghetti strap shirt with yellow stars doing wonderful things for her cleavage and her you-know-you-want-to-touch breasts.
Clark grabbed Diana by the waist and drew her even nearer.
"This is wonderful," she said, drawing Clark's gaze away from her breasts and to her red lips, shiny with lipstick he wanted to suck off of her. "I just wish it could last. You said the world's taking a breath—it's not. It's holding it, and eventually it will exhale."
"Yeah, you might be right. But when that happens, we'll both have the memory of that one time we danced all night in London. And if we've got that, well . . . how bad can it really get?"
Although, Clark wanted more than this one fun night with Diana. The world, as far as he was concerned, could hold its' breath forever if it meant he and Diana would have more days like today.
And, because he'd been a good boy and patient beyond reason, Clark lowered his head and captured Diana's mouth. In much the same way as he'd kissed her that first time on the Lincoln Memorial, Clark kissed her slowly, not going too deep or being too aggressive, just allowing the kiss to unfold as it would.
Unfold it did, beginning with gentle, exploratory sucks and nips then more when Diana parted his lips with her tongue. In she went, finding him waiting for her. A different dance started, mouths and tongues eager for the old rhythm, the familiar stroking and caressing they'd perfected months ago.
Both hands gripped Diana's waist now, languidly cascading down to her hips and pulling her flush against Clark.
They moaned into each other's mouths but never once broke the kiss. And why should they? It felt so damn good, and he'd missed Diana so much.
Bodies jostled against them as the music raged and people began to jump up-and-down in a crush of euphoria that had Diana pulling back, her cheeks flush from desire and perhaps embarrassment at their PDA.
The people settled down and Diana and Clark resumed their slow, sensual mating dance. Diana's back to Clark, his body plastered to hers, arms possessively about her waist, he feasted on her bare shoulder and irresistible neck before whispering in her ear. "Come home with me tonight?"
He made it into a question, though, in truth, it was a plea. They could go back to her house, but Diana did not live alone. While it would be late when they returned and her room would afford them privacy, nothing beat how uninhibited they became when they were alone, especially at the Fortress.
Still swaying in time with the music, Diana lifted one arm, wrapped it around his neck, shifted slightly so that their mouths touched when she pulled him down to her. "How long has it been, Clark, since we were alone like that?"
His body came alive at the sultry tone of her question, and the way her bottom deliberately rubbed against his front.
Clark choked out, "Too long. Feels like forever."
"Yes, feels like forever," she repeated against his mouth, her tongue coming out to lick his lips, sending bolts of erotic pleasure through him, as powerful as the explosion they'd survived.
"Tease." He swatted her bottom, then, because she felt so damn good, left his hand there. "I want you."
He could feel her smile against his mouth, right before she said, "Of course you do."