I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money off of this story.

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A special thanks to Kipling-Nori, my wonderful beta. Go read her stories, if you haven't already. They're great!

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A Grief Observed

Part II:

Mourn with Those who Mourn

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."

-Psalm 23:4a

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn."

-Romans 12:15

Bruce knew he had waited long enough. Forming a resolution, he walked toward her quarters.

It had been two weeks since their successful mission to Themyscira. Understandably, Diana had not taken well to her exile, and had begun to withdraw from her teammates.

He knew she was very unhappy. She was too honest to hide her pain, but he knew she wouldn't burden the others with it either. He watched as she forced herself to smile when she saw her teammates looking at her. He couldn't help but notice as she tried to sublimate her pain by taking on the cares of the world. He recognized the strain and sorrow that were warring within her.

The day after they returned from that mission, the visiting hours began. Every day she had a new guest. Superman had been the first to see her. Then, Flash followed by J'onn. Hawkgirl and Lantern had decided to pay their respects together. He had yet to speak with her.

Acting on impulse rather than reason, he went to see Diana that first day, but she had needed some time to process all that had happened. He found that as the days passed, it grew harder and harder for him to go see her. It wasn't that Bruce didn't want to help her; he just didn't know how, and he doubted whether he had anything to offer her.

Still, for the sake of his teammate, he decided not to let his perceived inadequacies prevent him from being there for her in any way that she asked.

Unfortunately, his new resolution didn't stop his nerves from rearing their ugly head as he waited for her to answer his knock. And when he noticed how late it was, he made to leave. The sound of the door opening arrested his retreat.

If Diana was surprised to see him, she didn't show it.

She ushered him in, welcoming him with, "I figured you would visit me. After John and Shayera came, you were the only one left."

Those weren't exactly the words he had been hoping to hear.

She offered him a chair, and then sat down on her bed.

Taking a seat, he waited for his courage to return. As he sat, Bruce looked around at her room, noticing that it looked much different from the other time he had been there.

Before it had been decorated with Themysciran artifacts— sturdy weaponry, bold pottery, intricate rugs, and beautiful paintings. Those were now gone.

The only thing that remained of the old room was her altar. There were many candles on top of it, though none of them were lit. He assumed she spent much time there, asking her gods why this had happened.

He wished he knew.

A few more moments had passed in silence before Bruce cleared his throat and gruffly said, "I'm sorry for what happened."

Diana regarded him politely and replied, "Thank you, Batman." Waiting for him to speak, she began to trace the pattern on her bedspread with her finger.

Again he tried. "I want to help you."

She snorted. "How? Are you going to force my mother to go back on her edict?" Seeing him twitch at her petulant response, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Batman. I'm just really tired right now."

"I know." The softness with which he spoke gave her a moment's pause.

"Wonder Woman, I'm not the consoling type. I don't… I really…I just wanted to…" This was going nowhere. Frustrated, he looked straight at her, muttered "I'm sorry" and made his way quickly to the exit.

"Batman, please." Shocked at the desperation she heard in her voice, she modulated her tone. "Please, stay."

After a moment's deliberation, he sat down next to her and waited.

Diana breathed in deeply and looked straight ahead. She refused to make eye contact until she had mastered her emotions. Finally, feeling strong enough, she looked over at him.

The look of grief he saw in her eyes caused his heart to break for her, and he compulsively reached out to place a hand on her shoulder.

His act of kindness proved too much for her. Whatever control she possessed over her grieving heart slowly slipped away.

He watched as she furiously wiped at the few tears that had fallen from her eyes. He watched as she tried to still her trembling lips by pressing them firmly together. He watched as she raised her hands to cover her face, in an attempt to stifle the anguished cry that had just escaped.

He couldn't watch anymore. He pulled her into a hug.

She shook uncontrollably, her body wracked with sobs. "I'm so sorry," she cried over and over again.

When she could breathe somewhat normally again, she shifted in his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "All of you have been so good to me, so kind. I feel guilty, because you have been so good to me, but I still feel wretched. I didn't want to make you feel bad or burden you with my grief."

Once she started, she couldn't stop. Thoughts that she had shared with no one were now demanding to be voiced. "I keep telling myself that there are people out there who have suffered so much more than me, but it's not helping. I try not to think about my sisters and mother, but everything reminds me of them. I feel so weary, so tired, but when I try to go to sleep, all I can do is cry."

"I'm trying to be rational, but that's not working either. I keep telling myself that mother had to do this. She's queen. But there's part of me that feels so worthless. I'm her daughter! Why couldn't she love me?"

Batman had no words to offer, so he tightened his grip on her. She had stopped speaking, but had begun to sob again. He knew that her mind was running riot, jumping mercilessly from thought to thought--what could she have done better? would she ever stop hurting? why had her gods allowed this to happen?

At least that was what Bruce assumed was going on, if his own personal journey through the valley of death was any indication. Having traveled it for many years, he felt pretty comfortable with the terrain.

As Bruce held her in his arms, he couldn't help but think of his own sorrow. It was impossible not to. He had passed the point where he would cry about it many years ago, but the pain was still there. He figured it would always be there, but hoped that it would lessen.

And before he knew it, he was faced with his old fears and condemnation. The most vivid memories of his parents were from that night, and of course those memories were intertwined with pain. Bruce knew that he could not have one without the other. And through the years, whenever his grief lessened, his fears increased. In giving up his pain, would he have to lose his parents all over again?

He loved his parents, but hated the pain. Bruce had decided long ago that he would always choose his parents over the pain, and that meant holding on to the past, but sometimes, for the briefest of moments, he would imagine what it would be like to let it all go. But those thoughts were always quickly replaced with feelings of intense remorse and guilt.

And so he forged on. Night after night, he would fight the scourge that had stolen his parents from him, and when he didn't feel like battling anymore, he would force himself to dredge up all of those old horrible memories. But being Gotham's protector and fighting in nearly constant isolation was taking its toll. In a rare moment of self-pity, Bruce wondered who would rescue him.

In his turmoil, his eyes alighted on her altar, and a silent prayer rose from his heart, asking for someone to understand and carry his burden.

He then looked down at the weeping Amazon, and reflexively, held onto her more tightly, only relaxing his grip when she had fallen asleep.

Thoroughly exhausted, Bruce closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he noticed that he was lying down, surrounded by a comforter.

Sitting up, he cursed at himself for falling asleep, and only stopped the mental flagellations when his eyes came to rest on Diana. She was kneeling reverently in front of her altar, and with the candlelight reflecting off her hair, Bruce thought she looked like a saint from an old religious painting. For some reason, he found that amusing. Her lips moved silently for a few more seconds before she bowed her head slightly and stood up.

As he rose and walked over to her, she looked over at him and smiled weakly.

"Batman, I just wanted to say thank you."

"I didn't do that much."

As Diana stood there looking at him, she began to ponder the fantastic nature of all that had occurred. She had no idea why she had opened up to him like that, and she was slightly embarrassed at her display of emotion. She had never considered herself a crier, but these past two weeks had been nothing but tears. And if she wasn't crying, she was trying not to cry. She had never planned on breaking down in front of anyone, least of all Batman.

Diana couldn't describe what it was he had done, or how he had done it, but she knew that he had done something. She felt the beginnings of the one thing that had eluded her for weeks—peace. She couldn't put all of it into words, but she had to try to communicate her thankfulness.

She reached out a hand to touch his arm, and softly spoke, "You listened to me, and you held me while I cried. You didn't dismiss my pain. That's a lot."

Bruce found that he couldn't look at her.

Seeing his discomfort, Diana felt a surge of compassion sweep over her. She pulled him into a fierce hug, which he stiffly returned.

Still enfolded in her arms, he looked down into her red-rimmed eyes, and found some comfort for himself in the gratitude he saw there and the words she offered him, "Thank you, friend."

He savored the moment for a second longer before saying, "I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry!" Her hands quickly dropped to her sides. She gave him a shy grin, which he tentatively returned.

"Goodnight, Diana."

"Goodnight, Batman."

And with hearts a little lighter, they parted company.

To Be Continued With

Part III:

Here Comes the Sun