VI
Within Temptation
(Part One)
:::
September 2nd, 2016: Diana's Hotel Room
Diana Prince,
The Wayne's Trust Foundation of The Wayne Enterprise of Gotham City requests your presence during our April initiation. Should you choose to accept, leave a black stone upon entering the premises. Further instructions will follow.
Diana eyed the ivory card, pinching it between two fingers, studying the carefully drawn script. It was strange how things could go from nothing to something in the space of just three weeks. The world really was just one pressing riddle, a mystery wrapped inside the hearts of the entities that walked amongst it. It lacked the detail, but the meaning was there. Under direct orders from Luthor, Diana had been preparing for the fundraiser for the better part of the day, and waking up that morning had felt like the end of the world. Diana didn't remember sleeping, but she supposed she must have a little.
Henrietta, Luthor's entrusted seamstress had stopped by late afternoon, and had anchored Diana in front of the mirror while she added the various little finishing touches to the dress, which seemed to carry out until late into the evening.
So, Diana's day - even for her standard- had been totally uneventful.
Diana set the card down on the chest of drawers that rested beside the mango wood floor length she was currently occupying, then reached for the gloss stick that laid next to it. Her hair was pinned up in an elegant chignon, loose ringlets falling around her face. She rubbed the pinkish gloss onto her lips as Henrietta stood behind her in the mirror, tugging at the organza skirtings of her dress, a fine line of pinched concentration to her lips.
Diana caught her reflection in front of her and frowned.
She had to admit, the dress was beautiful. It was art in the form of fabric, a crinoline of pink satin with lace lamé all over it, jewel encrusted detail stroking the dusky pink folds of the dress, grander than any she had ever seen on a human woman.
"Raise your arms for me." Henrietta commanded, snapping Diana out of her reverie. Diana obliged, lifting her arms until it was like she had her very own pair of wings. She watched as the seamstress hooked a needle through the dip of the dress, then pulled on the material until it pleated at the chest. She then wound the thread tightly around her hand, and with an ease that told Diana that she'd been doing it for a long time - snapped the thread in two before dropping it to the floor forgotten. Henrietta took a step back with pursed lips, regarding her handy work with narrowed eyes. "You can drop them."
Diana sighed, dropping her arms. Henrietta tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her nimble fingers reaching out to tweak one of the rosebuds. "There." she said, brightly. "A dress fit for a beautiful woman . . . you look like a princess."
Diana had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, as the excitable young woman came to stand beside her. Her hands fell to her hips, as she basked in her work of art. "It looks . . ." Henrietta trailed off, before releasing a satisfied breath apparently not able to put her thoughts into words.
Diana kept her face stern, but as the blonde gushed over how beautiful Diana looked in her creation, she let out the smallest of smiles.
Which Henrietta didn't see, of course.
Henrietta was right, she truly was a sight to behold and the thought scared Diana, for tonight; like a flower in bloom - Diana Prince would evolve into the hidden beauty behind the heavy drabs and spectacles. Diana cleared her throat, "Thank you, Henrietta." Diana said, lightly. "If not for you it wouldn't have been possible."
"You're most welcome, Miss Prince." Henrietta said. "Mr Luthor advised me that the color made you look more soft."
"Oh," Diana murmured, bitterly, raising a dark brow in hushed irritation. "He did?"
"Yes, Miss Prince." Henrietta replied.
Diana honestly didn't know what to say, and wasn't sure she could say anything. Charming, she thought to herself. Diana briefly wondered if the bastard would go so far as to plant a hidden camera in her dress; the thought almost had Diana checking herself physically.
"I'm sorry that it took me so long." Henrietta stammered. "I just . . . I wanted it to be perfect."
Diana was nonplussed, she remained silent, still trying to figure out how she felt.
Taking Diana's silence as an obvious dismissal the seamstress scrambled for her belongings before making a quick beeline for the exit. She turned and spared Diana one last glance, "You really do look breathtaking, Miss Prince." Henrietta said, her cheeks flushing scarlet almost immediately and with that she disappeared, her tiny skirt swishing around her thighs as she left.
Diana breathed a small sigh of relief as the door closed. She hadn't had a moment to herself all day and was grateful for the peace. In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. It was this that Diana thought about as she glanced back at herself.
Clark Kent. He was to be attending the gala tonight as sole representative of The Daily Planet. Diana let out a shallow breath as she recalled his fingertips on her skin after weeks and weeks of feigned hatred. He had known all those things about her . . . inconsequential details that he'd collected throughout the weeks he'd gotten to know her, of rolling her eyes at his bad jokes and missing his second glances, his keen observations. Diana hated him for it, detested that tender way of his. The way he looked at her, he'd gotten under her skin.
Diana swallowed, pushing the thought out of her mind. Her inhale was sharp and loud, her pink glossed lips pinching together as she gathered her bearings. "One night," Diana breathed. She repeated it again and again under her breath like a mantra, her eyes cold. Diana was just about to grab her purse when she heard a light knock on the door.
When Diana answered, she was hardly surprised to find her chauffeur standing before her. Diana blinked, and straightened herself. "Miss Prince," He said, formally. "We're bringing the car around."
"Thank you, Felix." Diana replied, graciously, then moved to retrieve her clutch off her bed. "Shall we."
"Certainly, Miss Prince." Felix countered.
Diana nodded, moving to take his offered arm. Together they walked out into the hall, where Diana could hear couples chattering in their rooms and children bickering. She smiled as Felix retrieved the black pebble from his pocket, already distracting Diana with chatter about that nights benefit.
And so it began.
:::
The Wayne Gala
Gotham City . . .
Snow fell on the night of the benefit - cloaking the building in a blanket of pure white despite the darkness inside. The grand halls were draped in silver and gold, the lights were dimmed, the ceiling-to-floor windows revealing the expanse of snowy night outside.
They often say that there's a sort of calm before the storm, which had often proven to be right when Bruce had tackled situations like this before. There is an awful tendency that human beings have to fall back into old habits, remoralize failed patterns because they still feel almost as nice as they once did. We seek solace in comfort, and comfort in the darkest crevices of our lives.
Toxic always has tasted so sweet.
Tonight's turn out had been grand, but it was nothing that Bruce hadn't expected. Socialites were riled with excitement, pressing mock kisses to flushed faces, tied corsets over curves, slicked ties around necks. Even the chaperones were lost in the lure of glitz and glamour.
In a haze from swallowing down brandy as if it were the virgin cocktail it appeared to be, Bruce caught the flash of white through the crowd, blond curls that were all too familiar - J'onn's disguise from the green skinned alien he really was. He frowned, as he caught J'onn picking at a mushroom on the plate he was holding.
"J'onn, I need you to stay on mission." Bruce muttered, into his com-link.
The Martian replied a second later, "I'm not sure I understand, my friend." J'onn's eyes fell on Bruce from the opposite end of the room. He recognized that pissed-off glare on his friend's face much too well, he offered a small smile in assent. "Try to relax a little. Your thoughts are starting to give me a headache." J'onn retorted.
"Stay out of my head, J'onn." Bruce hissed, across the room he spotted Arthur and his queen Mera. Not to far away Hal Jordan could be seen looking down a waitress's blouse. Where as, Barry Allen remained stationed to the far end of the room, next to an array of breads and cheeses, a refreshment dock of hor d'oeuvres. He glanced around for assurance, eyeing the crowd of socialites before slipping a fleshy looking prawn from one of the extravagant fountains of seafood.
Bruce narrowed his eyes, and watched as Barry popped it into his mouth.
"We've got the place covered." Bruce rasped, tearing his gaze away from the sight. "Be ready."
"I am, my friend." J'onn replied, placidly. "But as for the others, they have no idea who their looking for."
"And I plan on keeping it that way, until further notice." Bruce said by way of explanation. "Batman, out." With that he straightened, shoving his communicator into the back pocket of his slacks.
:::
Clark clutched at his recording device, desperate to settle his nerves as the Wayne benefit kicked into full swing. Lois Lane chatted animatedly beside him, but he was only half listening - Clark hadn't know it was possible, but the little brunette was actually giving him a headache. Clark surveyed the room, billionaires were all around them, talking endlessly about absolutely nothing as they sipped champagne from silver flutes. The place swarmed with paparazzi and press like wasps to nectar and from the ceiling presented a grand curtain chandelier, encrusted with crystal detail. Show Off, Clark thought as he fought a smile - only Bruce Wayne could pull of something this extravagant.
Clark checked his watch, then picked absently at a stray piece of thread on his suit. He wondered if Diana would be coming, Perry had told them that a representative of DOMA would most likely be making an appearance tonight - priority guests and everything - and that it was their job to get the latest scoop, the inside information on the happenings behind the merchandises four walls.
"Who are you looking for, Smallville." Lois asked, tugging at her blouse before subtly sticking out her chest.
Lois Lane was ticked. Smallville hadn't even looked at her, and she had unbuttoned another notch on her blouse, popping up her cleavage for an excellent view. The other men in the gala seemed to notice and were ogling. It put her in a foul mood, Lois would never admit it but a part of her had always believed there to be an unspoken tension between her and Smallville. But ever since little Miss Congeniality swanned into their office, he had been like a man with his tail between his legs.
Clark cleared his throat and shrugged, shoving a hand into his pocket. "Nobody,"
Lois scoffed, "Please Smallville, your face gave it away." she said, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray.
"You're imagining things, Lois." Clark drawled, distractedly.
Lois huffed, giving a small shake of her head before falling into silence.
Clark looked out amongst the mass of faceless beings, he spotted the wild red hair immediately. Jimmy Olsen, youth extraordinaire stood with his tongue sticking out to the side of his mouth as he scrambled to write down his notes, looking out of place amongst the sea of Armani suits and dresses ripped straight from Madison Avenue. Clark stifled an eye-roll as the lanky kid straightened out his maroon sweater vest, then as if sensing eyes on him he glanced up.
Clark smiled halfheartedly as Jimmy offered up a toothy grin, it only took a few seconds for Jimmy to come barreling up to them. "Lolly pop, Why the long face?" Jimmy asked Lois, mystified.
A harsh breath fell from Lois's lips. "Jimmy, I already told you to stop calling me that."
"But it's the new thing." Jimmy teased.
"No, it's a Jimmy thing." Lois remarked, exasperated. "Dammit, we need to focus."
"Yeah, well tell that to Kent over there. He looks like his on another planet." Jimmy said, looking pointedly at Clark. Clark suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Say, Kent. Where's your agent?"
Clark's stomach shifted at the mention of Diana's name.
"Jimmy." Clark stammered.
"What?" Jimmy asked, obliviously. Lois perked up with interest beckoning him to continue. Jimmy was not to be stopped, "Come on, man. You're blushing, I'll take that as confirmation."
Clark swallowed, flustered and glanced at Lois who arched a brow at him. "Interesting," she murmured.
"Clark talks about her all the time, he dozed off in the office this week. Said her name in his sleep . . ." Jimmy trailed off when a pair of glares hit him like daggers. He quieted, glancing at Clark's disapproving frown and laughed nervously under his breath. "Never mind."
Clark had to stop himself from stepping on Jimmy's foot. He swallowed the impulse to yell, and a second one, to kick the table in frustration. That would end well, he thought fleetingly. Jimmy moved to stand beside Clark as he silently seethed.
Clark wondered if he could get away with sneaking away.
"Maybe Miss Prince won't show up." Lois said, dryly.
"I think," Jimmy breathed, staring across the room, his lips parted in surprise. "I think . . . she already did." Clark followed his gaze and nearly lost his footing as his eyes found a raven haired belle dressed in pink across the room.
He sucked in a breath, It wasn't Diana, Clark decided. This woman . . . couldn't possibly be Diana. Gone were the thick black glasses and the stout clothing, Diana looked stunning in her floor-length gown - it was sleeveless and had a low, draped neckline of crepe georgette. A heavy chiffon, the dress was only slightly fitted at the waist, but sashed around the hips with the same material. It was dusky, pale pinkish grey, the color that in the crisp winds of London was called ashes of roses, and the entire gown was embroidered in tiny pink rosebuds. Loose dark curls framed her face, her blue eyes sparkling behind the browns and creams of her makeup. Her cheeks were healthily flushed, her lips painted with rose pink too.
Jimmy let out a low whistle. "Whoa that's . . ."
"Prince." Clark finished. "That's Agent Diana Prince." He swallowed once, then twice - his mouth seemed to be remarkably dry. He tried to ignore the odd panging in his chest, the attraction that just wouldn't fade.
Clark adjusted his collar, swaying on his feet.
And he wasn't even drunk.
Lois scoffed beside him, downing the rest of her champagne. "Close your mouth, Smallville." she scolded, "We've got work to do, I'm snagging the agent for an interview. Jimmy go and see what you can scoop on Rhett Jenkins and Smallville . . . once you've picked your jaw up, follow me."
Clark frowned, trying to make sense of the words. He licked his lips, then licked them again before nodding in response.
Standing regally on the opposite end of the room Diana pursed her lips, straightening herself. She'd gathered the attention of the entire room, people looked on at her in hushed awe, voices dropping to low murmurs as they nudged their partners.
Diana hoped that her nerves didn't betray her icy demeanor.
The men were all so handsome in their tuxedos - perfectly trimmed haircuts, their tuxes prim and proper, ties around their necks. It was then that she noticed a few familiar faces from the Daily Planet, off to the side. One was at the center of them, recording device locked firmly in his hand.
Diana swallowed as Clark's eyes brightened, holding her gaze. There was something horribly appealing about that tender look on his face, the sweep of dark hair slicked back atop his head. Clark placed the device on the breast pocket of his jacket, the side of his mouth lifting as he nodded at her.
Diana had to stop herself from glaring at him.
Gods, he was insufferable.
She wondered if it was simply a coincidence that Clark Kent happened to be everywhere.
Or if it had something to do with her recent arrival in Metropolis.
:::
Bruce's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the woman in pink's entrance, so, this was her. Luthor's infamous secret weapon, the one that Bruce had been searching for - all this time for three years straight. There was no denying the creatures beauty, but Bruce wasn't one of the men stupid enough to believe that there wasn't more than meets the eye with her. This secret weapon of Luthor's was a cold blooded murderer, and she needed to be put down. Bruce moved forward, eyes set on the sight before him like a wolf to a human sacrifice. It was five minutes until the clock struck nine thirty - until three years worth of punishing preparation would come to a boiling head. He parted past embracing couples and -
"Bruce, don't do anything rash." a saintly voice came from the regions of his mind "We have to think of a logical way to approach this." Bruce ignored J'onn's gentle prod, he ducked past a marble pillar, eyes straining to find pink and raven in the swarm of bodies. He saw her again, walking through the crowd of prying eyes.
Bruce halted in his tracks, common sense routing him to the spot. As much as he hated to admit it J'onn was right, he had to be smart about this. What good would it do any of them to go in all guns blazing? He didn't even know what her abilities were yet. His hand moved discretely to his back pocket before retrieving his com-link and putting it to his lips. "You're right, J'onn."
J'onn sighed down the line. "That is good to know, my friend. For a moment I feared that you would do something that even you couldn't take back."
"We can't have that now, can we?" Bruce mumbled, distractedly, glare still trained on the dark haired woman stood just a few meters away. "We'll have to wait until an opportunity presents itself."
J'onn took a moment to glance at Bruce from across the ballroom, his jaw was tight with determination, his body rigid. "And what do you suggest we do in the mean time, Bruce?" he asked.
Bruce let out a dismayed breath down the line. "We improvise." he replied, sharply and J'onn glanced up just in time to see Bruce take his place at the podium.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, If I can please have your attention." Bruce called out, tapping a fork against the flute in his hand and calling the attention of the entire room to him. "It's been a long time coming . . ." Bruce trailed off, garnering a murmur of laughter from the crowd. "I'd like to personally thank you all for sharing your evening with me, the turn out has been a delightful surprise." Bruce continued, "My late father Thomas Wayne always believed in something better for the city of Gotham, in giving something back to the community. That being said I have decided to donate an interest of one hundred million dollars to the Gotham children's trust and in doing so I have developed a partnership with Themysciran Embassy for the creation of a new foundation."
A series of gasps ran around the room and the crowd started to clap, humming their amazement. Bruce soaked it all in with a pinched smile to his lips, one that did not reach his eyes. He waited until the applause died down before speaking again, "Thank you." Bruce countered, smoothly. "And now without further or do . . . It is within my greatest honor to present to you my newest business partner and the Queen of Themysciran Nation, Queen Hippolyta of Themyscira."
The crowd broke into applause once more as Bruce ushered a tall looking woman onto the stage. Her golden hair was exquisitely dressed in a high pompadour studded with pearls, and the woman donned a white gown reaching down to her feet. Bruce gave her a dashing grin before placing a chaste peck to her cheek and moving to stand beside her.
The crowd fell silent.
The Queen took in a careful breath, then let slip a dazzling smile. "Good evening, to you all." Hippolyta began, delicately. "On behalf of Themysciran Nation I must say that Themysciran Embassy is looking forward to working closely with Wayne Enterprises to protect the world's interests. Long ago, the goddess Athena created our lands as a sanctuary against the world of man and initially when my people and I first entered Man's World we were weary of it."
Hippolyta paused, then continued. "But regardless of that, the one thing that I have always told my peopleis that it is our sacred duty to defend the world and it's what we all must do."
The crowd erupted once more, the applause louder than before. "Thank you your Majesty, and if we can all raise our glasses." Bruce cut in, when the crowd finished with their final acclamation for the night.
The assemblage complied raising their glasses to the air.
"A toast . . . to a brighter future." Bruce said, raising his own flute, he caught sight of the woman in pink amongst the crowd and his eyes locked onto hers with intent. "And may we all get what we deserve in the end."
From the crowd, Diana furrowed her brows and glanced back at Bruce. A second later, he winked back.
:::
As the evening wore on the dancing grew more and more uninhibited, the liquor changed from champagne and whiskey to rum and beer, and proceedings settled down to something more like a woolshed ball. Like Diana he didn't dance, and like Diana there were many eyes on him. Half of Clark hated her appearance tonight, the dark hair, the lovely dress, the dainty ashes-of-roses silk slippers with their two- inch heels; and that oh, so slender yet feminine figure. And half of him was busy being terrifically proud at the fact that she shone all the other young ladies down.
Diana Prince was all woman.
She moved like ice, with something guarded in her eyes that Clark could not understand. Clark wondered how she had mastered it: that cool, unaffected glance that broke past his skin and made him feel like she wasn't seeing him at all. Lois had jumped at the chance of interviewing her but Clark had advised her to wait until the dogs backed off.
Lois didn't know of the little incident that'd happened between him and Diana at Birch the day before and Clark was determined to keep it that way, knowing Lois she would most likely jump to some outrageous conclusion, wouldn't let him live it down.
Clark admired Diana from afar, the rest of the world becoming a commonplace entity, a blur in the background.
He hadn't caught the chance to catch a moment with her; men were practically eating out of her palm and him . . . he was under the cosh scooping interviews from the big leagues if not being dragged around by Lois Lane. Between them they had successfully gathered enough information to breach at least five major stories this week - make that six - if he was counting the Kurt Russo scandal.
Clark sighed, at least that would keep Perry White off his back for the time being. He blinked, pushing his glasses farther up his nose and this time it wasn't for the sake of his Clark Kent persona. He watched as Diana shot down another peacocking idiot and laughed under his breath as his sharp ears picked up on her dismissal. Apparently decorum ranked higher than ill-mannered debutantes with fugly highlights after all.
Clark squared his shoulders. Well, here goes everything, he thought to himself.
Diana was alone.
If there was ever a chance to talk to her, it was now.
Diana ignored the slew of men around her who all perked up at the very idea of being in her presence. Tonight seemed to be going smoothly, but she wasn't naive enough to assume that it would stay that way. Luthor had done his work well, Diana hated the attention, most women looked at her in silent envy, while others smiled at her in subtle awe, struck up conversations with the sort of bashfulness that only a human could possess. She had even caught the Ambassadors eye more than a few times, smiled politely when she glanced her way. But the woman never smiled back, only looked at her with something unreadable in her eyes, which had confused Diana to no end.
There was also that Bruce Wayne, fellow, he was an odd one too.
Diana raised her glass to her lips, before taking a modest sip. The champagne was tickling her nose and fizzing in her stomach, she felt wonderful.
"Penny for your thoughts, Prince." Diana froze at the sound of Clark's voice, grateful that she was still turned from him.
"Perfect." she grumbled.
A low chuckle came from behind her. "Ouch," he said, and laughed lightly. "You know for someone looking as beautiful as you do, you sure are in a foul mood."
Diana flushed, she wondered if he'd ever run out of lines to whisper in her ear, if he was the cruelest sort of curse or the best kind of punishment. She let out an annoyed huff. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, Mr Kent." she murmured, simply. Diana turned to him, allowing a mock smile to slip, one that failed to mirror his own.
"So were back to the formalities?" Clark acknowledged, and he hated the way she said his surname, like she was punishing him for yesterday's antiques.
"Smart boy." Diana retorted.
Clark sighed, immediately catching her cold tone. "Which means you're still mad at me."
Down went the corners of her mouth, up shone that tense, glittering fierceness with the tang of hurt in it. Diana scowled, hating this beautiful man, his stunning height. "Not mad, Mr Kent. That would imply that one cares." she stated, fighting to keep her eyes away from his lips. "Which I don't."
Clark's blue eyes laughed, greyed under the lights. He found himself wanting to test that theory. "I don't believe you."
Diana's mouth lowered to take another sip from her champagne, a drop fell to her bottom lip, and she swiped it of with her tongue, momentarily disgruntled. Clark swore his heart stuttered to a stop at the sight. "That's your problem."
Clark's lips lifted. "You're stubborn."
"You're persistent."
"Diana -"
"Cowardice, Mr Kent." Diana said, stopping him short. "Your reputation does proceed you."
Clark let out a breath. "Meaning?"
"Meaning . . . " Diana enunciated. "That you are a conceited, arrogant journalist who thinks that he can tell the measure of a person just because he happened to have a coffee or two with someone. You're incorrigible." she spoke slowly, deliberately.
The words made him falter, if only for a moment. Diana watched as something strange flashed in his eyes, he worked his jaw until words seemed to come to him.
"Diana, I . . . I apologize for my choice of words . . . " he paused, letting the classical jazz set playing ease out the bleak tension between them. "But I won't apologize for being attracted to you . . . for how I feel." Clark said, he worried for a moment, thought Diana might start a scene - slap him right in the middle of the gala. But when Diana looked at him, she was eerily calm. Her eyes rested on him, aching, an old kind of pain on her dainty features.
The words chilled Diana to the bone, the way he looked at her sometimes . . . with so much warmth, and so much sincerity that she didn't know what to do with it. Clark took a half step toward her and Diana felt panic rise in the chest, gathering inside of her to cloud at her throat. She swallowed, quelling down the urge to run. "Don't do that?" she murmured, in a voice she herself didn't recognize.
"Do what?" Clark asked, so gently and tenderly that her heart knocked frantically, and seemed to die from the pain of it.
Diana almost forgot herself for a second. She held Clark's gaze, realized how close they were now, in the murmuring slew of bodies. "You know what."
Clark drew a breath, his lips curling up again, smiling softly. "You're a very complex woman, Diana Prince. Formidable, but complex."
Diana felt an odd twist in her stomach, she shook her head, pursing her lips. "Clark you can't . . ."
"What . . . tell the truth? Clark interrupted, his voice deeper than ever. Diana's knees almost buckled at the sound. "Stop pretending this isn't something we both want."
Diana's eyes sparkled, stunned at how brazen he'd seemed to become in just the space of a few seconds. She almost weakened at the familiarity of the words. She'd be lying if she said that she'd tucked the memory of them away, erased it from her various indiscretions. But Clark Kent had a way of flooding her mind when she least expected it. Maybe it wasn't enough to pretend this wasn't happening.
Remember Diana, sever the head of the snake. Eliminate the problem, Her mind rattled, Luthor's words coming back to her, always finding a way to worm it's way back into the synapse of her brain. It's not real, logic beckoned down her ear and somewhere along the complexity of mind and heart Diana made the conscious decision to choose rage over solitude.
She let out an unsteady breath. "You don't even know me, Clark."
"I'd like too" Clark replied, like it was the most simplest thing in the world. "If you'd give me the chance I'd like too."
"It's not going to happen, Clark." Diana finally snapped. Clark peered at her for a moment, taking a step back and regarding her furious expression. He ignored the odd panging in his chest. Diana pursed her lips, and shook her head, unable to look upon the wounded look in his eyes a second longer. "I need some air." she finally said, her heart thudding a dangerous rhythm. "Don't follow me."
With that Diana turned from him, poised to walk away, but he caught her wrist, slid his fingers down to her palm like he had done so many times before. He bent forward until he was level with her ear. "You can't live in fear, Diana." Clark whispered, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I learnt a long time ago to stop being afraid of going after the things that I want."
Clark watched as her mind raced, her heart hammering a death beat in her chest. Diana gasped, extricating herself from his grip before backing away. In the rosebud dress her retreating form was graceful, womanly and a little unreal. Ashes of roses.
How appropriate, Clark thought to himself, trying to remember when exactly he tripped.
And began to fall for Diana Prince.
:::
Bruce frowned, his eyes following the departing form of the Luthor girl, he then glanced back to where Clark stood, watching after her with something akin to longing in his eyes. He shook his head in amazement, bringing his com-link to his lips for the hundredth time that night. "J'onn did you see that?" He asked, on a fierce whisper.
J'onn's voice shattered Bruce's blind rage. "Yes, my friend." he replied, not missing a beat. "It appears that Superman is already acquainted with the weapon."
"I wonder what else he's acquainted with." Bruce rasped.
"His mind seems to be confused, right now." J'onn murmured, puzzled. "I can't get a proper read on him."
Bruce grinned, bitterly. "How convenient."
"Try to calm yourself, my friend." J'onn said, repeating his words from earlier. "We need to think strategically."
"No shit." Bruce said, albeit calmly.
There was pensive pause, a ship waiting to dock anchor.
"Do you think he knows?" J'onn asked, after a brief moment.
"You're the mind reader, J'onn." Bruce reminded.
"As I said before, I can't get a read on him." J'onn shot back, softly.
Bruce let out a breath. "Judging by the look on his face, not a chance." he deadpanned, grimly, his expression darkened.
"Should we warn him?"
Bruce watched as a flash of gold departed out of the ballroom the same way the other woman had. This night had certainly begun to take an interesting turn, and it made Bruce's job all the more easier - he was just about to grace J'onn with a response when he paused for a moment, an idea starting to dawn on him. Bruce pressed his lips together, downing the rest of his glass.
"Bruce, should we warn him?" J'onn repeated in a tone that was much to condescending to be sincere.
Bruce took a moment to consider. A beat. A breath. "No . . . this could be good for us." he said after a while, it was then that Bruce Wayne succumbed to a decision that would no doubt step on lives, taint down hope. His words were final, his decision made, his judgement blunt and as cruel as it needed to be. All men had limits, they learned what they were and they learned not to exceed them.
Bruce just happened to ignore his.
:::
Diana let out breath of relief, she was leaning over the balcony that led out from the ballroom. The awning overhead shielded her from the snow, but the cold was still biting. Diana didn't care for it, the cold had never bothered her before, she stared forward at the snow covered ground before her, wondered if it was possible to seek solace in the blissful winds of a city that was forever destined to reside in darkness.
It was not to be achieved.
Diana exhaled, palms sliding across the railing that separated her from the city below. The storm was far from over - and Diana meant that in more ways than one. In a moment of weakness Diana found herself wanting to leave, to throw in the towel and fly back to the safety of her bedroom back at the Casanova Hotel. She wanted to be done with Clark Kent - one man in three, done with Luthor and his obsession for a better world, but one thing stopped her - Luthor held the key - the key to everything, the key to who she was, the photograph. There was also the part where he had taught her how to survive in this world of chaos, Diana owed him everything. But why was one man - one Superman - forcing her to question everything?
Diana shook her head, redemption was not an option for her. Remember the plan, Diana. Diana thought to herself, she allowed her eyes to fall shut as she tilted her head skyward, let the wind leave pecks on her cheeks. Diana actually found herself feeling an ounce of tranquility when an unfamiliar heartbeat caught her ears. Her eyes snapped open, and she stiffened at the approach of an unwelcome presence behind her.
Diana knew it wasn't Clark because she would've recognized his heartbeat the instant he stepped onto the balcony.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" a velvety voice sounded from behind her, in an accent almost as thick as her own and when Diana turned around, she caught the same intensity that was there in the words that had been uttered.
Diana parted her lips.
To Be Continued . . .
Author's Note: AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Voila, here is chapter 6, so trouble has already began to ensue. As you can probably tell, I'm at an insanely busy point in my year, so I'm going to keep this short! But I definitely didn't want to leave you guys hanging for a year, so I had to update. The support I've gotten from all of you has been amazing, and I'm so grateful for your awesome reviews. I hope you guys continue on this journey with me and keep on letting me know what you think - hopefully I haven't disappointed anyone because the tea is only just getting hot.
On a side note, I'm open for ideas so ping me a IM, and next chapter will be Chapter 7: Within Temptation: Part Two
Until next time beauts! xoxo