Disclaimer: I do not own any of the DC Comics characters or Locations

Claimer: I own my OC characters and this plot for the story

This chapter is for Oksofia and Arwen-Arya-Diana-Rachel for their reviews and patience as it is for the rest of you

-A thanks to Geeky BMWW; here's to you friend from a far away distance-

Chapter Four

The Things that Keep Us Apart

His eyes opened and he was home again.

Bruce sat upright in his bed, not entirely sure how he got back to the manor or if he went out for patrol. From the moment he moved his body, all his mind cared to think about was to stay in bed and rest. His body was exhausted from the unknown events of the night and wanted plenty of rest for tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

The man fell back onto his mattress, unable to sleep. From somewhere within, something demanded for reason, demanded Bruce to remain awake and focus. He didn't want to obey, just wanted rest, but by his own nature, the bat listened to the internal warning. His eyes tired and frustrated by the inability to return to slumber stared aimlessly at the ceiling. He pondered on a endless list of questions and inquiries that could lead to an explanation.

He focused on many things, all of which led to thousands of lost thoughts and memories his mind couldn't begin to grasp. Tonight's events and the exact happenings of the previous nights were all a blanket of nothing, an entire existence had passed away without his knowledge.

Amongst the sea of the many scattered and dissembled thoughts, came the notion of the significance for tomorrow. There was no recollection as to why but tomorrow held a certain importance and was something to look forward to. Tried as he might, Bruce failed recall why he sought after tomorrow with such anticipation.

It was unshakable to not draw upon anything from his life, but still he didn't panic. In that single instant, Bruce found himself comforted by pleasant feelings brought on by the movements of the figure lying next to him, in his bed, sound asleep.

Diana's easily drawn breathes as she slumbered was perhaps the most pleasant sounding thing Bruce could think or cared to concern himself with. Though his memory seemed absent, he knew who she was, knew how greatly the affections he held for her. The admission startled him, frightfully so without any other memories to aid him.

She was a gorgeous creature, a beacon of hope and light sleeping next to him. Though he felt unworthy of touching her, Bruce did so regardless. First her hair, feeling the soft smooth texture of it than to woman's face, caressing her luminous beauty.

How she got here or how long Diana had been laying next to him hardly mattered. It was troubling to seconded guess what had happened to make her sleep so pleasantly, but Bruce didn't cared. Even as Diana slept, she bore a smile and the unmistakable look that she was happy. He continued to stroke her cheek wanting Diana to wake to help shed some light on what happened between the two of them that lead to their current predicament.

Diana....

Bruce's desire for her to wake turned into dread when the eyes of the sleeping Amazon beauty fluttered open and looked at him. Her smile beamed at him and her eyes were filled with a loving look he had seen for years. It surprised him tonight of all nights to notice and remember where anything else could barely be recalled, but there was no mistaking the love the woman had in her eyes. Her hand against his, he took notice of an object on his finger; an object he had always thought impossible for him to wear.

Cautiously he brought his hand within the beams of the moonlight and sure enough there it was. The object that Bruce knew he would never bear again and also knew had no business for being on his finger. The first thoughts that came to mind was to pull the golden thing off, but the feeling the band had of being so natural there made him reconsider. He turned to confirm his suspicions and saw Diana's hand also bore its counterpart.

Mixed feelings of confusions and surprising joy filled the Dark Knight's mind as his unfailing logical sided mind began working overtime. He tried to recall the memories of how all this came about, but like before, his memories failed to surface. Unsure what to think or do, he remained silent while staring back at the goddess like face lying by his side.

"Sleep well?" she asked softly.

"I...I can't recall," he rubbed his brow in frustration but quickly turned to her with a grin. "But I am well enough to see you next to me." As quick and easily as the words fell out of his mouth, Bruce couldn't believe what he had just said. He felt himself tense but it was easily overlooked once he saw the reaction of Diana's face that made the awkward feelings dissipate.

Her happy and warm smile melted whatever uneasy feeling Bruce's mind was about to send his way. "Well husband, how was patrol?"

"I can't-" Bruce began almost painfully trying to recall as he sat upright. "I can't remember if I even went out on patrol tonight." Bruce rubbed his forehead.

"Your tired, Bruce. Get some rest and we'll talk tomorrow about it."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, with a jump start to his mind. "Yes, tomorrow."

Diana turned to face the other way. "And about me coming with you on patrol. Each time you go at it alone, you always come back exhausted."

"I'm use to it," Bruce leaned in and kissed her on the neck.

She turned to look at him. "I'm serious, Bruce. I am coming on patrol with you from now on."

Bruce amusingly smiled before lying back down. "Yeah, right," he said sarcastically. It was all motor function, both words and actions. He wasn't even sure how he did it but he did with nothing seeming out of the ordinary.

Both of his hands found themselves placed under a unsure head and mind of what was really going on, but felt so normal at what had just taken place. It felt even more normal when Diana's warm body cuddle next to his. He exhaled, pleasantly wrapping his arms around her.

"Now go to sleep, Bruce."

That he did or at least that is what Bruce though he did. Although he felt himself asleep, Bruce's mind was still working with all gears in motion at the logical reasoning for what was occurring with- to him right now. It didn't make any sense. He laid peacefully in bed next to Diana of Themiscria who Bruce was certain without a doubt was his wife. How it all happened, he still couldn't recall but the moment where everything felt complete he was going to cherish.

Hours seemed to past by and Bruce knew he was asleep, but was still aware of his surroundings. He laid in bed with Diana, his wife and love, and was truly happy with it. So happy with her in his arms and being his, Bruce didn't mind the sensation of wind emerging from his now opened bedroom window. His sense of awareness demanded him to wake, yet he didn't take any actions to disturb the content feeling being at peace.

He moaned, fighting both sides of himself while ultimately wanting to remain asleep.

The moonlight beams that covered them from before were gone, very suddenly as Bruce felt complete darkness over him. His senses demanded he wake, but he didn't want to. It wasn't until the forceful hand that grabbed at him did Bruce awakened. He immediately fought against at the intruder's arm, but like a hazing memory from before, Bruce was in the air.

With all of his strength the struggle to break free felt hopeless. All efforts proved in vain. He looked at the figure, a blackness that was not human. He couldn't make out the features but Bruce knew the thing was looking not at him, but at his still sleeping wife Diana.

"Urgh, Diana!" he warningly shouted.

The creature tossed Bruce to the other side of the room and honed in at her. Bruce smashed into the wall and made ready to pounce off it. Before he could however, dark shadow-like limbs appeared from the wall that grabbed and restrained him from moving.

It moved closer to her.

"No! Diana!" Bruce screamed.

"Bruce?" Diana said groggily not aware of the thing standing over her. Before her eyes could process what was going on, similar limb emerged from the bed and grabbed hold of the hero.

He forgotten how to pray. Everything inside begged for her strength to be enough to break free, but a gut wenching feeling told him otherwise. Her Amazon strength proved just as useless as his own in the struggled to break free. It wasn't hopeless, somehow Bruce had to escape confinement just as he had done a hundred times before.

"Diana!"

Her struggle was futile and the monster made sure Bruce saw what was about to occur. His shadowy arm formed into a sharp blade and displayed the newly form weapon to them. The Dark Knight gasped in horror. The creature's next action he knew was going to be preformed solely for his viewing.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"Bruce," almost a whisper that Diana let out before being impaled by the shadow thing's bladed shaped arm.

"No! No! Diana!"

She gasped and wanted to cry out, but there was nothing in her lungs to use for such a feat. She was still alive and to Bruce's horror, the murderous thing attack Diana again and again. The rage and contempt grow so greatly Bruce was ready to kill. To kill that monster; that nightmare!

Her last breath was drawn and Diana's body drenched in blood on their bed. The deed was done and the thing turned to Bruce. Its blank look gave no remorse or reason before it turned from him to the opened window. It walked without regard or sympathy for its actions done to Wonder Woman and to him.

"Ah! No! Bastard! Let me go! I'll kill you!" Bruce continued his struggle to break free. Tired but filled with rage to avenge her death held no bounds.

The thing turned to him and tilted its head. Unevenly, Bruce watched as the shadow took form and noticed two horns emerging from the forehead of the creature. They stretched out to both sides of it's head and a more defined body emerged, followed with what Bruce stared was two red deviling eyes.

"I don't care what you are! I'm going to kill you for what you did to her!" Bruce roared.

It was silent at first, than without moving spoke, "Like I said before Bruce: she can't protect you forever."

With that, the creature vanished out the window and the limbs that held Bruce to the wall faded away. He ran to the window intent on following the thing, but it was gone. Without a second thought, Bruce ran to the side of the bed where his murdered wife laid. He wearily took hold of the hand that bore her marriage ring that sealed the binding between them. The symbol of their love and commitment to one another until death do they part.

He took her in his arms, blood soaking against his bare chest.

No words could be spoken. Just noises of pain parted from his lips. He closed his eyes remembering when he swore long ago to lock away his miserable heart. It was the insurance and security he needed to keep everyone he knew and loved from ever experiencing the fate Diana endure. It was part of the curse in being who Bruce was, being the Batman. Whose loved ones always paid the price in his war.

"Diana." Bruce managed to say. He was at a loss for anything else to say, expect, "I'm sorry." He lowered his head and quietly sobbed over the loss of the most wonderful person whose only mistake was loving him.

With his final words, a raged roar was let loose of the inner tormented pain.

Both eyes shot opened to a breathless body that violently shot upward from its resting. Mind rattling for reason, thoughts of logic were lost and erratic emotions conflicted with every attempt made at gaining composer of himself.

It was only a dream, the man quickly told himself once assessing his surroundings. The palm of his hands shot up to cover over two very shaky eyes. Dreams were nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. But-

"My God, what is happening to me?"

It was a nightmare.

Hauntings of the night, such was an event all too of an familiarity.

The room Bruce's eyes gazed upon just moments ago was the same room he just escaped from. He lowered his hands with a stern look on his face. The sight was absorbed and heated the man's blood to the placed which served as her ending grounds. Like a blanket was to a child to hide away in, he rushed to the curtains and tore them down allowing beaming light to rush in. It was a much needed necessity that Bruce's sights soaked in.

But it was not enough.

The bedroom was the same as the nightmare and Bruce hated it, every last square inch. He was enraged and gripped at the unsatisfied anger acquired under the nightmare's spell. It consumed the man seeing the rich dark wooden walls and expensive furnitures identical to the things he saw while asleep. The setting stage of her dreamed death.

It was in an instant that Bruce let lose all hell fury within him, using both skill and mindless aggression against the contents of the room. Walls and furnitures suffering the wrath of its master all the while keeping the image of his torturer in mind, remembering with a passionated regret being unable to make a single strike against it.

It was a inhumane, to make him powerlessly watch.

His rage could last forever with the energy it feed Bruce's body. Nothing could stop him from running a path of destruction across the entire manor if he wanted to. There was no reason to hold back, nothing to stop Bruce from breaking every bone in his body at destroying until the fullest extent of his rage was satisfied.

But within moments of his battle, the need of the body for a balanced intake of air quickly ensued over him, forcing Bruce to halt his rampage on the defenseless bedroom.

It was within that time taken to catch his breath, the faintest of whispers from his analytical mind sprung up like a wildfire. The object of the terrors and nightmares had taken form. It had a voice, a will, a cause to do harm that Bruce could focus on. It had purpose in causing such suffering onto him.

The question was: why?

What was there to gain making him suffer?

For whatever reason this creature chose to inflict such pain upon him was hardly worth Bruce's concerns. Evil does what it does best, to do evil. This thing had the power to break him from the inside out, using terror and fear as its weapon. Whatever chance found in focusing on Diana as a defense went up in smoke. The monster was getting the better of him and whatever it wanted from Bruce, it was going to get it soon.

He remained hunched over in an attack stance, fists maintained in full readiness for another round of mindless aggression. The focused and calmed man remained silently intact, but the drive to continue destroying was ever so pressed into Bruce's mind. He was fighting against an untouchable enemy and it was driving Bruce mad not being able to lift a single fist against it in his defense.

What few weaknesses carried in him the monster was exploiting. The unreal situation drove all the unbarred anger in full motion. The man wanted to break something, someone. Anything would do to easy himself from his pain.

He turned ready to strike again at the damaged framed bed, but like a deer to headlights, Bruce stopped.

Standing there in the door frame motionlessly the boy stared shockingly at him.

Bruce stood up straight. Calmly he dropped both arms to his sides, taking in a deep intake of air.

"Tim."

"I heard a noise. I thought you were... in trouble or something," the boy hesitantly said.

Cursing at himself was the only thing Bruce could do to explain his actions that could have easily been heard from every corner of the silent Wayne Manor. All shreds of reason during the assault on the room had fled from him and was overlooked by the uncontrollable rage of emotions Bruce felt from within. An outlet was needed, and there was no better place to unleash it than on the room where Diana had been slain.

"I'm fine." and don't ask, Bruce added mentally. Not that he would really answer the boy, but the last thing Bruce needed was another problem from his young ward being afraid of him.

The tension rising in Tim's mentor the past few days was obvious enough to see even for him. Bruce Wayne carried himself aggressively, -even more so than he usually did- almost as if he were expecting an attack of sort to come up from behind.

But to explode like this and on his room? What could be going so wrong that could cause such uncontrolled behavior in a man like Bruce Wayne?

"Guess it was time for some remodeling than?" the boy lightly asked contemplating how he could make for the quickest of escapes.

Bruce took a quick look around at the results of his room. The bedroom now resembled nothing of what his nightmare had played out before him just moments ago. A feat he found great satisfaction and relief in accomplishing.

"Something like that."

He remained strong in posture and made no notion in body language suggesting he had just done something that was out of the ordinary. But Bruce refused to look back at Tim. Not daring to see the fear installed within the young teen he considered to be another one of his sons.

"Meet you downstairs in thirty minutes," Bruce made his way to the door.

The interest of self-preservation jumped at Tim to instinctively move into the hall and watched Bruce every second pass before the soon closed door severed them.

He lingered at the door for a moment longer wondering what to make of everything that was going on. Bruce was mad beyond anything the young teen ever saw before and hadn't the faintest idea as to why. It couldn't have been something he did.

The same minute past by with a crash that dropped Tim's jaw open with the destruction sounds of another piece of furniture. Enough for the young hero to flee the immediate vicinity and head to the dwelling place of the only person who could even begin at understanding Bruce, the kitchen. Alfred was the foundation of reason and perhaps sanity in this place, maybe he could enlighten Tim to what was going on. That and Tim was starving for some breakfast.

Like clockwork he heard the words repeat over and over once descending into the bowls of the cave;

She can't protect you forever, Bruce.

No one protected the Batman his thoughts shot back; it was the Batman who protected them. The Batman saved lives, the Batman always turned defeat into victory no matter the odds.

Batman always found a way. Ready to pay whatever price there was of him to protect that one life.

Nightmares were part of him, his fuel to wage war on crime. But the terrors, they were too great of a distraction, so unmistakably real it was rattling every one of his nerves. Overwhelmed for much of anything, Bruce buried himself in work.

A combative armor, an Exosuit, the latest project of interested since the battle with Darkseid. Largely incomplete, the suit would serve as a deterrent for those higher in strength beings Bruce would encounter in the future. Powerful and complicated in building, the project would consume weeks in order to finish and all of one's attention in constructing.

Perfect.

Working with such fine tuning and advanced circuitry required patience and a steady hand, none of which Bruce had at the moment, as a loss of control caused the tool in use to burn through several internal circuits for the eighth time.

The tool was retracted and viewing the damaged done to the suit's inner workings sent a wave up Bruce's spine. Damage, extensive.

He growled under his breath before angrily sweeping everything off the working table in defeat. He was at a breaking point; so far away from being able to focus. A master of patience and determination, being brought down by nightmares. Both fists slammed on the table in a last bit of frustration, knowing his prideful control was slipping further away.

Both eyes closed, the mind wondered: Why? Why must life be so difficult?

With nothing but the cave's natural sounding wonders as his answer, breathing slowed and with a much deeper intake, stilling the already exhausted mind. Control over himself was quickly becoming tangible again. The terrors so actively haunting from within him throughout the day were gone. Silent by some unknown blessing that was more than to be thankful for. A moment enough for anyone to hope for the possibility that it was over.

In silence and peace of mind, the regaining of control, he refused. It wasn't over. From within, the Dark Knight's mind refused to believe the wave of terrors and nightmares striking at him were over. Far from leaving him.

No evil leaves so...

easily.

It was in times of silence and peace when people lowered their guard and gave in to the belief they had won. It such moments, they were venerable and it was then that the enemy would make for the fatal blow. No such moment of weakness would the Batman allow to overtake him.

He refused to let down his guard.

Eyes closed and began the relentless search inside himself for it, diving deeper in his consciousness for the thing haunting his body and soul every waking hour for days. It was still inside, the demon, that monster, the nightmare. Hiding, laying low under the confusion and longing for inner peace in perpetration for a fatal strike. An unquestioned certainly. It was eerie enough not to feel it, scary perhaps not to have it noticeably present. For the man of night and shadows, he didn't do scared. Only became more cautious.

Through seer determination and willingness there was a way to achieve victory. He was a man who would do almost anything to get the job done.

If only-

The computer beeped in and both eyes snapped open to the unwanted interruption. He looked with narrowed eyes at the findings displayed of the black substance found in Crane's cell. Once more, the findings read inconclusive. A failing Bruce found himself greatly angered at before colliding his fist with the keyboard. What good was the most advance piece of equipment if it couldn't do a simple job of analyzing?

"Master Bruce?" the man of reason spoke.

He inhaled lightly, rallying himself together and turned towards the approaching Alfred.

"How are you young man?"

"What is it Alfred?" There was no time for games today, no time for small talk. There was never a day for such nonsense.

"Master Tim left in quite a rush for school this morning. A rarity in itself, I might add. But at the breakfast table, the young lad was unusually scarce in speeching. He seemed-"

"Scared? Yes, I know. Did he tell you why?"

"Merely made the suggestion that I should talk to you about it, sir. But to be short, I did see the room."

"I'll clean it up, Alfred."

"As happily as I would be to have to you say that years ago, Master Bruce, I am not as worried about the room as I am you."

"I'm fine." Being cold to others was a trait of his own and was freely given to others without hardship. But Alfred, he was family. He was someone Bruce trusted, someone who caught remotely the inner struggles of his life. To be cold was not something easily done when it came to his close to being father, Alfred.

"Sir if I may-"

"I'll explain later, Alfred. I'm busy."

He hesitated for moment, "Very good, sir." Calmly without fail, the old man took to the stairs with his hands behind his back. "Breakfast is still at the ready if you feel hungry at any time, Master Bruce."

The younger man paid him no attention having diverted his entire focus on the computer's failed attempt towards analyzing the substance. It wasn't right by Alfred's standards for a man such as his ward to do this to himself. To hide in darkness, in a cave of all places and mellow in thought to whatever was causing him such distress. To lose more of himself night after night in the war on crime to where there was more of the Batman than there was of the man of Bruce Wayne. Very few options were at the butler's disposal at saving this man he consider to being his only son.

Very few.

"One last thing, sir."

His gaze turned slightly away from the computer.

"Its nearing three o'clock."

His silence was broken by curiosity. "And?"

"Your pilots would like to know if you still intend on making the trip to Metropolis today. They are rather anxious to get underway and should be able to make it within a few hours."

Silence again, followed by Bruce returning full attention towards the computer monitor. Taking a seat, the man began the relentless work using the damaged keyboard. Giving his silent answer to Alfred's inquiry.

It was a disappointing choice, saddening more than anything for the old man knowing what was all at stake if the famed Bruce Wayne of Gotham failed to show for the party. The many who yearned for a new line of hope from a playboy philanthropist who could save a city from a depression, and of the exclusive few who truly wanted to see the man Bruce Wayne.

A gentlemen of service was never to question his master's decision, even if ever fiber of his being demanded just that of the father figured Alfred.

"Very well, sir. I will call and cancel the arrangements to Metropolis." With one step further away from the cave, failure was the only thing on the old man's mind. Failure to keep a promise to an old friend at taking care of a person that mattered the most to him.

"Alfred?"

The butler stopped in his tracks, hoping for the hopeless.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"The other night while I was on patrol," he began. "Someone managed to contact me through the Batmobile's com channel which I specifically turn off to anyone outside of Gotham with a problem anything less than a major disaster. You wouldn't happen to know anything about how a certain person managed to get through to me would you, old friend?"

A clearing of the throat, unusual to Bruce's ears for a man of Alfred's background training.

"I dare to say sir, that I have no idea." It was as if the bat signaling spotlight was upon him. Alfred remained calm under his ward's question while being inwardly delighted at the lesser serious tone used by the young man's questioning.

Bruce turned his chair towards the stairs and looked at him and from the distance in between them, Alfred could barely make out the finer details of the man's face. But if he wasn't too mistaken, and the old man prayed that he wasn't, he could swear Bruce was gently smiling at him. A smile that faded with the darkened tone of the young man's next words.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. Thank you, Alfred." The chair turned and the dented keyboard was once again in full usage.

"Very good, sir."

When the silent noises of the cave were his only companion once more, the work in so desperate need of being completed was far from importance. There were a lot of people counting on an appearance at the Metropolis Ball, as a rich and elite savior to their war battered city. The opportunities to do some real good without the use of a mask like Thomas Wayne did. To keep a depression at bay and perhaps to save just that one person from turning to crime and becoming a cold killer.

To erase an image desperately from his mind of beautiful woman's lifeless face stained in every thought surrounding her. To be there and see her safe, filled with the life and spirit that made her such a sight to behold.

The clock read ten minutes after three and his self still failing to give a defiant answer. Teeth grinning together, with making the choice of whether or not Bruce Wayne would show. A choice Bruce knew he would have to live with for a long time.

He looked away from the clock, time was never on his side for anything. Slowly his fingers returned to the keyboard, typing in another command for the computer to accomplish, baring in mind that he had so much work still left to do.

So much work...

3:15 pm.

Metropolis Central Park

A festive time to be had by all in Metropolis, Every corner of the park's events and features was littered with people from near and far; eager businessmen seeking the opportunities of the city, the local residences, and the many wanting to see in person their heroes of the world.

A festive time to be had by all and Diana endured all she could of it. Hordes of the unwanted paparazzi spared the beautiful princess not one moment's rest. Her choice of attire for the event, a stunning dark blue dress fitting the Amazon's figure, drew them to her like moths to the flame. An undead of mindless media hounding with questions and photos even Superman's aid could not hold back. The last nerve of tolerance was reached when the questions began concerning waist size and other features. Diana's self-imposed dismissal as an attracting feature didn't go unnoticed, but for just a moment tonight, she needed to find solitude.

On a nearby stone bridge, away from the calamity of everything and everyone her thoughts were left scattered and erratic with both feelings of anger and irritation. For a friend Diana was willing to endure a lot, but every hour that passed wore her out. The people, them and their cameras and questions, it was all so insufferable! Superman and the others would have to fend for themselves for the time being.

Right now, Diana needed some peace.

Both forearms found their way hard onto the stone bridge railing, and the eyes of the frustrated Amazon closed softly with the sound of pebbles tumbling against her might into the streaming water below. Alone at last in the comfort of her own thoughts, with the silence of the park's beauty around her, the truest nature of Diana's disgruntlement for tonight surfaced. She hadn't even realized how grateful the distractions the people had been.

The representatives of his company arrived hours ago and the surge of word passed throughout the day supported the claims of Bruce Wayne making an appearance. He said in lesser terms to them he would be here and his people said he would show. Yet not a word of Bruce's being at the celebration nor his pending arrival had been spoken. Both eyes opened to woman in the water, hardly recognizable to Diana if she didn't know better. Never before had anything pushed her to such lengths over something like this nor instilled such heartache.

The prefect encounter outside the Justice League, pass the borders of their masks.

Was if fair to ask it of him? Seeking something in a man who denies anything of the sort in his life and interfere with a personal vendetta such as his that consumed a life? Or for a considered god-like being to ask it of a mortal man to displaying any caring or affection?

It wasn't Diana's intention to give it to anyone, but reluctantly he had it. In his possession the man had something most fragile and precious of hers. For everything that it was worth, whether he knew it or not, Bruce Wayne or the Batman was breaking it. If not for her pride, the tears held back for it's sake would be overwhelming.

She didn't know what to do.

"I don't think so, Princess," a familiar voice declared firmly.

Diana gasped. Distracted and consumed with her inner thoughts, she hadn't even notice Shayera's presence.

"What?"

Humored annoyance was littered on her face. "There are few of us girls here as it is to keep these photo-freaks at bay and you think you can sneak off without any of us noticing? Ain't happening!" the redhead declared.

A gentle smile was given in return before Diana returned her sights back to the water below her. Shayera leaned her backside against the bridge railing flinging at her hair and a sigh of great relief. The toils of the day were no doubt hard on the both of them.

The private feuding emotions held against the winged woman were ignored for the moment. For the moment Diana was not interested in fighting with anyone.

The very air around the both of them was saturated with the ill-had feelings, so much that both could drowned in it. Shayera glanced at her comrade seeing the disheartened look Diana poorly tried to mask. She too knew that feeling, that emptiness, that disappointment in something, in someone.

She looked around uncertain of what to do as they stood in silence. It was a mistake for her to come here. They were on much better terms now, but not enough to help settle something like this. The eeriness of the situation was like a great cold against the winged warrior's skin. She had to do something.

"I'chanaa!" she shouted with feigned annoyance.

Diana snapped to hearing the woman's swearing. "What?"

"You know," Shayera stood up allowing her body language to confirm her agitation. "I have never in all my years had the need to bash so many heads in with my mace in a single night. Those deadbeat reports got me so fired up with their questions and standing so close to me. I could feel them breathing on my features," she continued her rant, walking around going down the list with passion. "It was Shayera this and Hawkgirl that! And every question was about....about...."

She was at a lost for words.

Their questions Shayera hadn't even allowed to past by her mind until now. The realization kicked in of each and everyone asking nearly the same thing: 'How could you?'

They may not have asked directly as that, but the point was made. What was meant as a means to distract the hurting princess stirred the buried pain Shayera held within herself. She had betrayed so many during the event, leaving her without a home and completely alone.

Diana saw her figure slump and arms curl around herself to quietly hide herself. Hard enough as it was for someone of such harden caliber to break at anything, Shayera was ashamed, hurt even by it. Within a second of a thought Diana placed a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Shayera?"

Her eyes moved towards the gesture of friendship. A smile found its way on her face as the pained thoughts fled from her.

"And Wally!" she declared sternly, pulling away from Diana's resting arm. "He's such a little kid. Did you know he made me stand there while he tried to beat his old record of going on some ride called Tom's Twister eight times without hurling?! The man could run around the world in a single day yet he still finds being flung around in circles fun. Can you believe that?"

"Wally will always be Wally."

A smiled was shared in thinking of their silly friend. Wally was such a character to have around, but in thinking of their hearty friend came an ugly silence thinking of their other friend.

"He still hasn't shown up has he?" Shayera asked. She didn't want to address it knowing how much this arrangement meant for Diana.

The Amazon was silent.

"There they are!" a voice cried out in excitement.

Both women turned to the edge of the bridge seeing another horde of reporters charging at them. Already their mouths running with questions that were not even comprehensible from the other. Within moments they were surrounded by them and the flashes of cameras were blinding them.

"Wonder Woman! Wonder Woman! Over here-" one reporter shouted.

"Hawkgirl!" another reporter cried.

"How did-"

"Who-"

"What did-"

It was clear the time to their selves had ended. Neither could see just how many were around them nor hear from one between the other. Both women braved through the field of media choosing not to just fly over the annoyance that hounded them. They made their way to the main streams of the Metropolis Ball with the press in tow. If anything for their return, the two women could use what protection of their space Superman and their boys would offer against them.

Curious enough at making distance away from the nuisance the crowd of questionnaires began to stir in uproar. Diana was determined to get away to enjoy the rest of the evening, leaving them behind was a blessing that would not be taken for granted. It was as if all grace had fallen unto the Amazon's ears of the media commotion while fleeing from them. The crowd roared with the anticipation and excitement to the news:

Bruce Wayne had arrived.

The car was noticed this time around, making another tour around the streets of Metropolis very uncharacteristic of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. The paperazi buzzed about his finally expected arrive right outside the window. No attempt was made to exit the vehicle, he was perfectly content where he was and it hardly mattered what they would say concerning the odd behavior. It was inviting to remain in and the growing mass out there held no appeal in facing.

His hand cupped his chin while staring out the darkened car window glass. Coming here was a mistake. What was he thinking?

"Master Bruce?" came the inquiry from the older man that broke the deadening silence inside the car. He looked back at a very occupied young man lost in thought. For men his age and experience to be nervous about such affairs hardly seemed fitting Alfred couldn't help but think.

"One more time around the city, Alfred," came the quick reply.

"If we drive off again Master Bruce, I think the young man at the toll booth will start asking questions."

The statement did little to sway him. He lowered his hand from his chin with neither eyes turning away from the hungering crowd for him outside. It wasn't an issue to drive around, Alfred could last all night if need be. Of course driving meant to actually go somewhere and they had circled the city five times in silence with him in the darkened backseat to brood.

It was getting old to the man of service.

"One more time around, Alfred," came the sharp command.

At once the vehicle was in motion, not phasing Bruce with this thoughts. This was for the greater good his mind reasoned. There were too many risks for him to take chances like this. This mission he undertook was the only thing that mattered. All he wanted to make this easier was to believe that was all he needed or wanted in life but that was becoming harder and harder to believe. Conflicting thoughts and reasoning however were brought to a halt by the vehicle jerking to a stop.

"Alfred?"

The man of service's arms came to rest on the seat as he turned to look at his ward, face neutral as ever.

"Forgive me for being so bold Master Bruce, but..." his expression turned seriously grim. "Get out of this car young man!"

Shock could not be concealed in Bruce's face looking at the kindred man sitting in front of him. It was years since Alfred raised his voice at him, it no less served Alfred's purpose of getting his point across.

Bruce yielded to the stare of his butler and gave another look at the awaiting masses.

"You'll be alright here for a few hours, old man?"

"Always sir," came the usual tamed tone.

Bruce smirked with his hand slowly reaching for the door handle. He gave one final thought to his condition with terrors and its unusual absence since awakening. Mental warnings went off not to go because of it. The image of her in the nightmare, it turned his face bitter thinking about it. The events were so real from all accounts. He wanted to burn it out of his mind. Once the first foot touched down onto the ground with the opening of the door the cameras came in full force. The practiced playboy grin came into play as the expected figurehead Bruce Wayne greeted the waiting crowd.

"Don't wait up," the billionaire said and closed the door.

There was no going back now, he was here and in the publics eye.

To please the crowd was easy enough. A simple grin could charm and answer half a dozen of their questions. It hid the contempt held for what his social status brought him. What few answers he indulged in giving were vain or of little consequence. Lois Lane who managed to pull herself away from Superman temporary was alloted anything worth saying a second time. Everything else was of standard role play for the crowds and their leisure.

He gave the crowd just enough of Bruce Wayne before picking out a young lady to give his attention to. This one was of a thin blond physic and already called for him by the name of 'Brucie'.

He hated that name.

With the ten seconds of additional attention at her, the young lady seized the chance to grab for his hand and haul away the biggest catch in her life to the dance floor.