Son

by Mialyn Tee

The last thing Bruce thought would ever happen was to have a child with his one-night stand, and find out about it a few years later. When Diana had started praying the gods for her loneliness to cease, she hadn't expected an answer. She hadn't even expected that kind of answer either (bonus chapter added)

22. Chapter 21

Sorry for updating this late, I had a very busy weekend and came home rather late…Anyway, this story is 22 chapters long, so next chapter will be the last.

Many thanks to Lulu; DCLOVER; Kate; Marianne: clacker for their reviews.

Please read and enjoy :)

---

Son

21

The waves gently washed over the shores of the golden sand. Diana stood on the beach, facing the ocean, her arms crossed. In a hundred years, she had almost forgotten the soothing sound. The water licked her feet, raised to up her ankles before retreating. She had played so often there, as a child, throwing rocks in the afar to measure her strength, running carelessly, ignorant of the cruelty outside. What would she give, for a brief moment, to return to her homeland, to seek the peacefulness and safety once again?

Her mother was right; Man's world didn't deserve their help. While Ares would have conquered the world without her intervention, she sometimes wondered if everything had been worth it. Humans, she had learned, were predisposed to self-destruction. They were greedy, ambitious and cruel. Some souls were dark and twisted in a way she would never understand and never wished to. She could wave her sword against gods and monsters, but couldn't protect men against themselves. Not forever.

Diana squelched her toes in the sand, smiled at the sensation. Peace was to be found here. When she turned around, the island appeared as it had been in her memories, the cliffs now more distinct and the sky clear blue. An odd noise growled in the afar, coming from the sky. When she looked at the horizon, she saw—

No, she thought and watched, frozen, as an old plane crashed into the sea.

It couldn't be. This had happened a century ago. She was on Themyscira, not lost in her memories-

The moment the thought crossed her mind, the scene shifted into a battlefield –Germans and Amazons fighting against each other on the untouched beach, both sides falling and then Antiope –

She was in the throne room, Steve Trevor kneeling in front of the assembly, confronted with the power of the lasso and blurting things he had not intended to say –

She was sailing away on the ridiculous boat and years later she would recognize how lucky she had been that Steve had the slightest notion of sailing-

She was in No Man's Land, sending back bullets to the enemy's ranks –

Gods no, she thought, heart racing but the scenes kept going on and on against her will-

She was in Veld, dancing, and then the mustard smoke and her heart was breaking and all the bodies lying around while just yesterday the people were and then on the base killing Ludendorff and then fighting Ares and then the plane with Steve was flying higher and higher and-

Pleasenodon'tshowmethisagain

-the explosion and her scream again and again-

Diana

-and the pain and Steve's last words –had they even been his last words or figments of her imagination-

Diana

And her heart was bursting and her limbs were trembling as she stood as witness to her whole life again-

Listen to me Diana

The scenery changed as random events unfolded –the years, her friends' death, one after the other, births and traveling and magic and monsters and human nature at its rawest and ugliest and most beautiful and yet-

She was so lonely, so lonely, please, please I need someone just someone-

And then-

And then-

The man sitting alone at the bar, his back turned to her, shoulders slumped and nursing his glass, his handsome face lost in his thoughts as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders-

'Would you like to stay the night?'

And she was back in that bed, answering his ardor with her own, kissing the breath out of him –careful not to lose herself and accidentally hurt him- the headboard cracked when she slammed her palm against it and-

Nadia's kind eyes as she said: 'I think it's a very human problem you have, Diana' –

Fear and worry as the life grew in her belly, how was she supposed to care for it, to raise it, how could she so this being who she was - and fierce love and protectiveness –mine, mine, someone that will be all mine alone –gods thank you-

Holding a wailing Hippolyte in her arms, his tiny form and his wrinkled face and wide open mouth and blue eyes –would he keep them, she wished he did, she loved them already –and then he was sound asleep and that beautiful smile when he dreamt melted her heart and-

He laughed and hugged and smiled and his arms were so small but his hold was so strong and his eyes so fierce and his heart so big and kind and such a smart little boy he was-

The man like her, strong and discreet and awkward but sweet and who wanted her and she didn't want him and send him off even though he must have felt lonely in this world, but she had her Hip, her boy so full of life for herself and no-one else-

Brutal return to reality and the man sitting on the bench next to hers- fear and worry again but a different kind because he was not anyone he was Hippolyte's father and she wouldn't have her sweet little boy without him and did he really deserve the truth-

'The answer is yes, Mr. Wayne.'

Her sweet boy and the man she wouldn't trust because he was not who she wanted, not a grown man, not in the most important sense, not a good father-

Bruce Wayne was Batman –the playboy billionaire who couldn't get past his parents' death was a warrior in his own right fighting to protect his city and that changed everything-

Learning bits and pieces of whom he truly was, waiting for his calls, figuring him out and liking what she saw-

Hippolyte so happy to have a father –a father, mother, I have a father, it's really neat –and her heart pounding so hard when he pressed his mouth to hers and his mortal strength not as strong as hers –never as strong –but feeling safe in his arms –and fear too because it wouldn't last –it could never last –he would die before her just like Hip might and all the others she had loved and she wasn't sure she could bear losing her heart –Steve's death stung for a long time -even if she really wanted to jump down that hole with him and see if she could love him as fiercely as she loved her son –their son-

Diana.

She felt those strong arms around her waist, his warm breath to her ear, then his lips on her neck and his chest in her back, a whisper-

Come with me.

And she closed her eyes, breathed in and out, and followed him to wherever he wanted to lead her.

She opened her eyes in a dark street, late in the evening, the sound of footsteps and bits of voices and laughs going on. A couple and a boy walked up the street, the man –the father –a hand on his son's shoulder and the woman –the mother, smiling at something one of them said. She watched as a third man stepped into the street, watched as the father tried to step in-between –how he gunned down the father first, then the mother, and the child was left staring wide-eyed at the gun –and the man running without even taking the spoils of war- and the child screaming as her own heart broke over and over again for him –no child should ever witness this, especially so young-

The grip tightened around her waist, she felt his body trembling behind her. Her hand caught his arm and she squeezed back and the scene changed again-

A various panel of memories, sometimes distorted, sometimes unclear, sometimes vivid –men and women, allies and enemies, haters and lovers, masks and lies and injuries and betrayals and trust and-

Two boys –the first an acrobat so skilled so hurt yet so happy –admiration and longing and pride slowly shifting into something different, to conflict, to anger, to a door slamming on his way out –the second so angry, so much potential and so driven and maybe he could direct that anger on something better, something worthy of the cause and-

Maniacal laugh, the building explodes, leaving a bloody body behind and the heartbreak –oh the heartbreak –the despair, sinking so slowly he had to escape-

'Is the seat taken?'

She looked like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, beautiful and distant at the same time, but so passionate and comforting and-

That little boy peeking behind her legs, eying him with curiosity with those big blue eyes and –it couldn't be, could it?-

Father he was a father to a five year old boy and he felt panicked and warm and fear and what was he supposed to do now especially if she didn't trust him with their son how could he gain her trust -

Wearing a simple armor and wielding a sword and a shield to go against a chimera and hitting his injury –an Amazon, a metahuman, a woman so out of his league- and that little boy, so sweet, so kind, a freaking light in the darkness of his life-

His heart beating when she picked up the phone, the thrill of discovering her answer to his advances –so different, perhaps he could give her a chance to see through him, to get him, to understand and yes he would never admit it out loud but he really wanted her by his side and see how far they could go and how long it would take and-

There was fear too, uncertainty –hurt and mistrust still lingering more by habit than necessity but the willingness and he wanted to- he really wanted to- if she was willing to try with him and-

'I think we should marry.'

Son

Bruce put down the phone and leaned back into his chair. Duty calling, he had to return to his office that day deal with his responsibilities and an increasingly worried board of directors. The cost of implanting a business in Metropolis –and the subsequent loss –was something they had never faced before. It took him half an hour to make them understand that yes, money was lost, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. His presence on the site and his intervention with sending trucks of minimal protection exceedingly fast –faster than the government did –had boosted his popularity as a man and as a businessman. People in Gotham knew he was a philanthropist, people around the world would know he would get his hands dirty to help where he could; companies knew his people were reactive and efficient. He did not add that half of the people sitting at this table would have never bothered doing a quarter of the things he did that day.

So yes, the money invested was lost, but Wayne Enterprise still had a positive image and that was the most important. He then convinced them that now was the moment to buy a few of those company crumbling because of the invasion. Profit would be made when they would be back on their feet.

It had been a long and arduous task, but he had succeeded in the end. And he was even more proud to have done so with his mind still reeling from the previous' day events.

The lasso dropped as both Diana and Bruce released it at the same time. They stood apart, one face turned toward the other. Bruce took a deep breath, thinking this was not what he had expected to happen when he had grabbed the damn thing. Diana looked confused, blinking slowly at him, her eyes filled with tears and pain.

"You wouldn't wake up," he spoke, and his voice sounded far too rough and disturbed. In his defense, he had just witness pretty intense things –the worst part of both their lives.

Diana blinked again, unleashing another pair of tears. She still seemed caught in her mind, not quite here with him yet. Bruce cupped her cheek, his thumb drawing a line under her eye. The only light in the room was the lamp by her bed. It drew shadows on the side of her face. Her skin also appeared to give an eerie glow, though he knew it was just a trick of the light, she looked…surreal.

"Hip felt your emotions, ran to the cave to tell Alfred," he went on and recalled the brief moment of panic when he heard Alfred urging him back to the manor. "I hadn't gone far so I returned as fast as I could, and we couldn't wake you up." They had rushed in the room, and they had found Diana unconscious, clinging at the lasso for dear life. "Your thing was glowing like- Hip called it a big firefly on steroids." She smiled a little, but couldn't hide the guilt in her eyes.

"Is Hip alright?" she asked tentatively.

Hippolyte had been wearing an expression he had never seen before. The memory tore his heart into pieces.

"Alfred took him to his cottage," he merely replied. He didn't explained how much he was shaking and crying in fear. Whatever intense emotion he had felt coming from Diana, it had stressed him. "He was feeling…overwhelmed."

Diana lowered her head and stared at the sheets.

"I'm sorry, I was just looking for answers. I thought the lasso would help me settle my mind, not-"

"Trap you inside instead?" he retorted a little sharply. He stood, stepped back, paced angrily in the small space of the room. "Do you have any idea what we thought were happening? This –what you did –did you know it could do whatever it just did?"

Diana shook her head.

"I wanted the truth –my truth, and thought the lasso would help," she said and as an afterthought, added: "It might have. Ares used the lasso to show me an illusion once. It could have been his truth." She stared at the lasso. "And I exhibited my memories by unconsciously willing it to."

"And did you find your answers? Was it worth it?"

"Somewhat." She met his eye, held onto the stare. "Did you see what I saw in my head?" he nodded. "From what point?"

He hesitated before admitting:

"From the moment your aunt was shot down."

She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. He had no doubts she was reliving those scenes, as he had been relieving his own memories. He had made his peace with them, mostly, but Diana didn't seem to have put her past behind yet.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he went on, quieter this time. "It must have been…a shock."

She barked a laugh.

"Hardly more terrible than witnessing one's parents' murder at eight years old," she retorted dryly –and though he knew she didn't mean anything by it, the remark stung. "I am sorry for your loss."

Bruce sat back at her side, put his hand over hers and squeezed gently. They remained silent for a moment before she added:

"There is something I do not understand, why show me your memories as well? You could have stopped –pulled us out."

"It didn't feel fair not to show you mine, especially if…especially since I had seen your most painful memories."

She looked down at their linked hands. He remembered feeling her emotions, her fear of commitment, what she wondered how far they would go if they tried…And his heart soared at the knowledge that one day, if nature followed its course, he would have to leave her behind. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

She was nothing like the vibrant warrior he had seen before, looking so…open. So vulnerable. He wanted to hold her again and at the same time, leave the room to tend his own personal wounds. His own past had been thrown back into his face and he was still smarting and not used to display genuine emotion in front of others. Instead, she settled the matter for them both when she leaned forward and rested her head in his neck. Bruce instinctively wrapped his arms around her. A few moments later, he felt her shoulders tremble and his front getting wet –and heard her quiet apology followed by her equally quiet, but audible, thanks.

Bruce ran a hand over his tired face, in dire need of a coffee. When he finally left the room, he informed his secretary that he would be out for the next few hours. He left through the front door, headed straight to the closest coffee shop. He could have sent his secretary but really wanted to get some fresh air. As he expected, no-one really glanced at him as he wandered down the streets. People walked past hurriedly, nose down to their phones, carrying cases, reading newspapers and the usual mass. His order came and went, he walked out the shop unrecognized, chose to wander a little longer.

His feet led him to a different part of town, one he hadn't gotten close to –aside from the occasional gala or jumping on the roof. The Gotham Art and History Museum.

If Diana agreed to marry him –which was a path he felt encouraged in, given the feelings he had encountered in her mind –she wouldn't want to be a housewife. The museum would be the best place to check. Unfortunately, he didn't have many contacts there and if he started asking questions out of the blue…

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the side door of the building slammed open. One man almost ran out, carrying a briefcase tightly under his arm. Another one peeked through the door and called after him:

"Mr. Brown, you really should consider-"

"My decision is made," the man snapped back. "There is no way I am staying in this pitiful town any longer. Your assistants are incompetent; the art here is worth nothing! I will not remain a moment more!"

'Mr. Brown' didn't turn back as he walked away. The other, a man in his mid-fifties, remained on the doorstep, dressed in jeans and old brown sweaters. He also looked like he was having a very bad day.

"You alright?" Bruce asked, more out of politeness than curiosity.

"Alright?" the man muttered, rubbing his face with his hand. "Oh I'm alright. I'm just surrounded by so-called experts with inflated egos. And additionally freaked out because Gotham is apparently, too close to Metropolis for safety. Fool." The man glanced up, stared at him, and gasped. "You're Bruce Wayne, right?" When he nodded, the man smiled. "I heard what you did in Metropolis. It's rare enough to hear that a businessman your caliber would voluntarily go there, but that you'd not only send your people and stay to dig under that mess…" he shook his head. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen a few pictures on Facebook."

Bruce smiled wryly.

"I was there and I could help, so I helped," he said in return.

"It was very brave of you, sir. And if I may, it's an honor to meet you," the man added more genuinely. "Speaking of help, you wouldn't happen to have an expert in antiquities in your list of acquaintances? The man who just took off is- was our specialist. And his assistant is good, but not experienced enough to hold the fort on her own."

Bruce stared at the man hard, really hard, his head suddenly pounding. This was too good to be true, wasn't it?

"Actually, I think I may know someone," he said cautiously. "She has a unique experience in Roman and Greek antiquities."

The man peeked up considerably.

"If you could find that person, I will be in your debt," he said. "Not many want to find themselves stuck in Gotham with this poor city's reputation. Hiring is a mess, so if she fits, she's on the team. Just send your…friend's resume directly to me, I'll give it straight to HR. I'm the head of the department, Dr. Travers. Tony Travers."

While Bruce did not appreciate the hesitation about the status of his relationship with Diana, he let it slide. After all, they were lovers, maybe soon to be engaged, and this guy needed her more than she needed him.

"I will pass the offer along," Bruce promised, and thought that damn, he had just earned another point if he could now hand her a new job on a platter.

Son

Dick hummed as he walked down the streets, Hippolyte trotting by his side, observing the city with his curious wide eyes. He held the little boy's hand, well aware that danger could come from every corner. In plain daylight, Buldhaven was relatively okayish. Having worked there for some years, he knew which part of town to avoid when accompanied with a five-years-old, and what would actually keep said five-year-old busy.

When Bruce had insisted he wanted them to grow closer, be more like a family, Dick hadn't expected that kind of request. The babysitting duty had come out of the blue, and Dick had managed to take a day off at the last moment –now he owed his partner a double shift next week. Bruce and Diana had a lot of details to iron out in just a few days –invitations to send, calls to make and booking half a dozen rooms in the best hotels of Gotham. Still, given the circumstances, he didn't really mind. And he genuinely liked hanging on with his little 'half a brother'.

"Dick," Hippolyte suddenly spoke up. His tone sounded uncertain, not as cheerful as it had been moments earlier. "Father wants us to come and live in his house. Mother told me yesterday that they are going to marry soon."

The young man wondered if Hip had been waiting for the right moment to speak of this, or if it had just crossed his mind. Knowing the kid as he did now, he'd bet it was a bit of both.

Two days back, Bruce had been waiting for him at his apartment after his shift, beaming like he never had before, and had straight-out announced him he and Diana were getting hitched before she returned to France. The news had surprised him, but he hadn't felt particularly disappointed or worried. Bruce and Diana were level-headed adults with each their particularities. With Hip as their common thread, they knew exactly what they were getting into. Some people would see things getting into motion too fast, but those people didn't know the particulars. If he had to offer his support, he'd give it to Diana. Bruce could be a nasty piece of work when he was angry. It didn't stop him from agreeing to be his groomsman.

Dick stopped walking, picked up Hip, who automatically settled comfortably in his arms. Those beautiful eyes were serious, meaning he was expecting a serious answer. When he stared at people that way, the same was he had the morning of the invasion, Dick tended to forget the kid was only five.

"You're upset about it?" he asked gently.

He must be, Dick thought. Hippolyte had only had one parent his whole life –Diana. Now he would be switching countries, living in a different environment, out of his everyday life routine…

"Mother and father are happy to get married and I'm happy we live all together. But my friends are in Paris. Samira and Nadia and Theo and-" he paused after giving a surprisingly long list of names. "I don't want not to see them anymore."

"You can make plenty of friends here," Dick remarked. "And I'm sure you can fly back to Paris during school break." He was pretty sure Diana wanted to keep her apartment and rent it out periodically. Or at least, that was what Bruce hinted at. "Your mom still has a job at the Louvre, so you won't be leaving till summer time."

The thought of not departing right away seemed to cheer him a little.

Hippolyte suddenly twisted his head around, as if searching for something. A split second later, Dick felt it. Someone had their eyes on them. It didn't take long to spot who, as she wasn't really trying to hide. His instincts switched on high alert as he gave her a careful second glance. Their observer was a woman standing across the street. She looked familiar, he thought, dark haired, pale skin, and slender form –oh wait. He did recognize her. She was part of the team of volunteers back in Metropolis. The one with the grave expression and the camera. Their eyes crossed briefly in spite of the crowd and for a split second, Dick thought he felt…something. The moment passed and she smiled tightly before looking away and resuming her walk.

It wasn't until Hip tapped the side of his face that he realized he had been following her with his eyes long after she had vanished amongst the people.

"Sorry Hip," he apologized and put the boy back down. The odd look on his face didn't faze him much…until Hippolyte opened his mouth:

"So, do you like her?" Dick's jaw fell open. Hippolyte looked very serious as he went on: "People who find mother pretty squint at her like you just did. I didn't see the lady very well, but I think she was pretty, just like mother."

"I wasn't squinting," he protested –half a lie, he had been observing, but not for that purpose.

Hippolyte suddenly grinned. The mischievousness returning to his eyes and his teeth all out. Why did he suspect that grin meant trouble?

"O-kay," he said far too easily, and started walking again, tugging at his hand this time. "Can we eat some ice cream?"

Dick groaned inwardly, hoping the boy would keep his mouth shut about this brief encounter if he bought him a treat. He would try to investigate a bit, but the woman could have been looking at him out of recognition. And then, he remembered Hippolyte was a first class babbler. Dick groaned inwardly again. Bruce would never let him live it down.