A/N: Right, I decided I'm not going to include Apollo's prophecies in this story, but I WILL be writing a short separate one – a companion piece, if you will (lol) – which will be up soon. That way if you don't want to read it, you don't have to, and if you do then you can! My thanks to Hepburn for that idea – cheers chica!

Chapter Twenty – The Decision

It didn't take long. The Batplane was already fuelled, and it was the work of thirty seconds to get into the suit, load his belt with various gadgets and take off. Within five minutes of leaving the living room, Batman was on the way to Themyscira.

Even if it did have to be ultimately his decision, there was one other person that Diana being mortal would affect more than anyone else. If he didn't…and most of him still found the idea of Diana dying at any age horrifying, then Hippolyta would be the one who had to live with Wonder Woman for all eternity. Added to which, if he did, Hippolyta would lose her daughter. Losing a child wasn't something anyone should have to undergo – but that would have to be Hippolyta's choice. He would speak the words, if he had to, and he knew what he wanted…God, so badly…but Hippolyta had a right to decide too.

He spent the thirty minute flight to Themyscira wondering how he was going to prevent the queen of the Amazons from killing him. Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, he activated stealth mode on the plane. It didn't have the advantage of being invisible like Diana's jet, but he could reduce the sound of the engine by seventy percent. Since it would be daylight, flying high in the black aircraft wouldn't be helpful, so he'd fly low over the ocean and then parachute down onto the island. On autopilot the Batplane would fly back to the Cave, and he could get a transport back to the Watchtower once Hippolyta kicked him off her island. As he was expecting her to do immediately once she learned it was his fault that Diana was as she was.

Or she could kill him.

At least he wouldn't have to make the decision then, he thought dryly.

Commencing the autopilot sequence, he ejected about half a mile from Themyscira and glided the rest of the way onto the island, heading toward a patch of deep forest that would hopefully be deserted. If it wasn't…he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Thankfully, it was empty of all Amazons, and Batman began tracking the League communicator that it looked like Hippolyta still had. He couldn't help feeling slight relief at that; it would make everything much easier if he could go straight to the queen. As it was, it did not take him long to find the palace, and then fire a grappling hook at a high window. He slipped lightly through it, finding himself in what definitely looked like Hippolyta's private quarters – though not her bedchamber, thank God. That definitely would get him killed. The room was simple, unembellished, with very little luxury. There was a blackened grate with the remains of a fire still smouldering, a jug of what looked and smelled like wine as well as the remnants of a meal sitting on a low table. From the night before, he surmised.

On the wall there was a large circular ceramic plate, intricately painted with images from Themysciran culture. In the centre of it, feet proudly apart and hands on her hips, was the image of the Amazon champion. It was too stylised, of course; Diana's legs were too long, her waist impossibly tiny and her hair oddly green – but her eyes…her eyes were exactly right. Blue as the sea he'd just flown across, and burning with pride, with passion and determination. Everything that she was. Everything that she had been. He wasn't aware of reaching out until his gloved fingers made contact with the smooth surface of the ceramic.

The door being opened made him snatch his hand back, reflexively try and find a shadowed corner to hide in. It wasn't quite light yet, so the corners were sufficiently dark. It was a conscious effort to will himself to stand still. Exposed, part of him whispered. No. He was here to be seen, to talk to, not to lurk or intimidate. So when Hippolyta entered the room, her face pinched and her expression drawn, her eyes leapt to the black-clad figure standing in front of her, hands rigidly at his sides. The queen's blue eyes narrowed, but unexpectedly she didn't call for her guards. She simply shut the door behind her, only then speaking.

"What do you want on Themyscira?" she demanded. She recognised him, of course, and male or not – a hero of Themyscira was someone not to be killed immediately.

"I came to talk to you," he answered. "About Diana."

"That creature is no longer my daughter!" Hippolyta said harshly. "I want nothing more to do with it or Man's World. Leave, immediately!"

"I can bring her back," he said quietly, not moving. "But since it will affect you as well, I've come for your counsel, if you'll give it."

The queen's eyes widened before her features settled into a neutral expression. It was the same one he'd seen every politician in the world make when they were considering something. Finally, Hippolyta nodded, and sat, motioning him to do the same. Bruce did, and, after a seconds' consideration, removed his mask. This, too, obviously surprised Hippolyta, but she made no mention of it. "Speak," she ordered.

He could only repeat what he'd told Dick and Tim the night before – the same words, but said in a totally different way. His sons knew him, knew how deeply he felt without him having to overtly express it. Hippolyta, if she was ever going to become accustomed to the idea of her daughter spending the rest of her life with man, needed to realise just how much he loved her daughter. She needed to know why he'd pushed Diana away at first, she needed to know the exact moment he'd fallen in love with her, why and where. She needed to know that if he couldn't have Diana, if she never recovered from this…he'd never look at another woman as long as he lived. She needed to know Diana was…everything. She also needed to know that what had happened to Diana now…was his fault.

By the time Bruce had finished talking, his voice was hoarse with emotion and speaking so long. Hippolyta's expression had softened considerably from when he'd begun, but still wasn't friendly. Now merely wary, instead of hostile. "There is nothing in her," she finally said. "I do not understand why you have come to me."

"Because Hera came to me," he replied.

She looked utterly stunned. "The queen of the gods came to you?"

Bruce nodded. "Yes. She told me that there was a way to restore Diana, if I agreed. But that the price would be great."

"The price?" she asked, frowning. Hippolyta was more familiar with the antics and shifting whims of the gods than he, knew that even the most benevolent of magics came with sometimes appalling costs.

For the first time in their conversation, Bruce looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Her immortality. If I say yes…Diana will grow old and one day die."

There was a long silence for a moment as Hippolyta reassessed the views she'd held about men for the last two thousand years. That he loved her daughter was unquestionable – and nothing new. She knew men could truly love women. But it was in the male way – selfish. They could love only as long as they wanted to, with no thought for the consequences of their love.

Yet here was this man, actually considering her feelings. She frowned again, deciding to make sure. "You came because you wish to seek my opinion?"

He blinked. 'Opinion' was putting it a little clinically, but it was close enough. "I love Diana. But she's your daughter," he said finally. "More than anyone else, this affects you. I couldn't kill her if you have no say in it." I can't kill her anyway.

Hippolyta stood and walked to the fire, adding fresh wood to it and stoking it back to life. "I asked the goddesses to give me an heir," she said finally. "Should I die, Themyscira will need a queen to rule and maintain our society." Bruce's heart sank. "But more than that," Hippolyta continued. "I asked them to give me a daughter. To give me a child that I could nurture and love as a mother should. And they did. And for many long, happy years, I had my wish. I loved my daughter as no other being on this earth. But my daughter is dead," she said, meeting his eyes. "Skatha killed her. And if you can bring life back into her heart, for however short a time, then I beg you to do it."

"And when she dies?" Bruce whispered.

"Then I will know she has lived a happy, blessed life." She stood, bent and kissed his brow. "With a man who loves her."

Suddenly, a soft glow of light filled the room, startling them. When it cleared, Hippolyta knelt immediately.

"Rise, Hippolyta," Hera said gently. Then she looked at Bruce. "The decision has been made."

"But…I didn't say anything," he replied.

"You did not have to. Your heart sings it." She smiled and stretched out her hand, laying it on Bruce's shoulder. "Come. Apollo awaits you."

He shook his head. "No. I don't need to see it. I just need her."

She nodded seriously. "Then I have one more thing to ask of you. I will take you to your home. Wait for Diana there. She will come to you, but in her own time."

Wondering how the goddess seriously expected him to keep his sanity, and knowing there was nothing to be gained from arguing, Bruce took a deep breath and nodded. "I will."

Hera nodded and looked toward Hippolyta, reaching out an arm to her as well. "Come, child."

There was another flash of warm light, and Bruce found himself standing back in the Cave, his nerves strained to breaking point, and every muscle in his body taut as one of Green Arrow's bowstrings.

Wait?

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Wonder Woman was in the training room, battling droids through the various programmes that the computer (with the aid of Batman) had devised. She did so calmly, methodically, analysing the likely moves of the robots in front of her with the same logic, as if she were a machine herself. Her movements were smooth, but lightning fast. Sweat ran in rivulets down her face, and her breathing and heart-rate had quickened, settling into short, fast bursts. She'd tied her hair back; it was too long, she had decided, to be practical, got in her way during fighting and on missions.

She was planning on getting it cut short soon.

Without warning, the droid in front of her stopped, mid-swing for her face. She wiped her forehead and stepped back. "Computer: reactivate programme 540."

Nothing happened, so she repeated the command in the same tone. Nothing. She turned toward the door, only to be confronted by two women; both dressed in white, both with a regal bearing. Wonder Woman dropped to her knees and bowed. "Great Hera. How may I serve the queen of the gods?"

"Stand, Diana," she said.

She did, glancing at her mother. Her posture and body language indicated she was nervous, perhaps even anxious, and not a threat. "What do you want of me?" she asked.

Hera stepped closer, stretched out her hands about six inches apart from each other. Between them, a tiny pinpoint of light appeared, then grew until it was a sphere of whiteness, too bright to look at directly. "What is that?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Your soul," Hera answered softly. "Remain still, Diana."

Uncertain, but trusting that her goddess would not hurt her, Diana did as she was commanded. Slowly, when it was the size of a light-bulb, Hera sent the sphere drifting toward Diana's chest. It felt unbearably hot against her skin, and cold at the same time. Slightly behind Hera, Hippolyta shifted forward ever so slightly, her expression straining toward something.

As it penetrated her skin, though, Diana stopped wondering what was going to happen, and only screamed. Whether she was screaming in pain or in pleasure she wasn't sure, since it was equal, nerve-searing amounts of both. Every single emotion in a myriad of them went rushing through her; every memory that she'd made in the past month ran across her mind again, only this time with the emotion that should have gone with it.

She'd not laughed at one of Wally's jokes.

She'd not returned one of Kal's smiles.

She'd hurt her mother.

She hadn't cried for Shayera.

The revelation hit her with all the force of a train.

She'd flown away from-

"Bruce!"

The sob was barely recognisable as a word at all. Without waiting anymore, Hippolyta left Hera's side to rush to her daughters. "Diana! Diana, look at me!"

Diana's eyes snapped open, and she grasped her mothers hands tightly. "Mother, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry!"

Hippolyta only gathered her daughter into her arms. "Hush, my little sun and stars. It is alright. I have you."

Both crying, and neither admitting it, the two Amazons held each other for another moment before Diana gently disentangled herself and stood up, facing Hera. "I'm mortal," she said assuredly. It felt different, yet exactly the same. Everything felt slightly…harsher, but more beautiful because of that.

Hera nodded. "Yes. The price for your soul."

"Thank you," Diana said softly, bowing. "Thank you."

Hera shook her head. "It is not I you need to thank, Diana." She looked at Hippolyta. "Come. You will see your daughter again soon."

The queen nodded, embracing her daughter one last time. "Take care, my little sun and stars."

"Goodbye, Mother."

Hera touched Diana's cheek, their forms already fading. "Go to him." With that, they were gone.

She would go to him, she would – she had to; it was in her soul, a pain that wouldn't fade until she was in his arms. Goddesses, what had she put him through? It would cost her all her strength, she knew, but she needed to see one other person before she went to Bruce.

Leaving the training room at a run, Diana sprinted to Shayera's room, overriding the door lock. Thankfully, Shayera was in there, sitting on her bed holding a pillow to her stomach. "Shayera," Diana whispered, feeling tears start. She let them come, the grief she felt for her friend contrasting oddly with the elation at being able to feel anything. "Hera, Shayera, I'm sorry."

When Shayera threw herself into Diana's arms without any questions, and sobbed silently, their friendship absolutely solidified. Though she wanted to be there for her sister, wanted to be a friend, the two minutes they stood there, mingled fear and anticipation grew in Diana until she couldn't stand it anymore. She drew back. "I have to go," she whispered. "But I'll be back, I promise.

Shayera nodded, wiping the tears away. "Ok."

Diana turned to the door, stopping again when Shayera called her name. The redhead gave the ghost of her old smirk. "Good to have you back, Princess."

Heart thudding painfully at being addressed as that, Diana only managed a tight nod before leaving again. This time, she didn't bother with running; she flew. Flash was in the transporter room. "Flash, transport me down to the Batcave," she ordered.

As Wally entered the coordinates into the computer, Diana surprised him with a quick hug and then a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Wally."

Before even the World Fastest Man could say anything, Diana was gone in a burst of white light.

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A/N: And…I think we'll leave it there for this chapter. Review please!