Chapter 6

2041:

Terrance McGinnis cracked the back of his neck as he ascended the stairs. It had been a long night, made worse by the return of Bruce's scowl. The visit by Wonder Woman had seemed to make the man retreat into the hardened shell he was when they had first met almost two years ago. It was crazy, and totally unschway.

"What was all that about?" he'd asked Bruce when their visitor had left.

"Old stuff."

"Bit long for a grudge, isn't it?"

Bruce's glare had cut the conversation short there and then. Then the glare had become a permanent fixture. Again. No more conversations when he was checking out the Huang towers exteriors, all his quips unanswered. Just an old man in a cave with a dog, who would only speak to bark out one order after the other. Good times?

"Hey, what's with you?" Terry asked as he walked into the pantry where Bruce was preparing a meal. Did the guy ever make anything other than that soup? He was still brooding. If he carried this much longer, Terry wouldn't be surprised to find little chirping baby chicks hatching off the wallpaper.

"What would make you think there's anything wrong, Terry?"

"Oh give me a break. The brooding, the dark looks, the silence. Need I go on?"

"I thought you were used to that by now." Ah, a smirk. There. Finally. If Terry could have breathed a sigh of relief without seeming overly dramatic, he would have. As it was, he merely smiled in return.

"Yeah, in doses. You've brought out the whole Armada in the past three days, Old Man."

"Hn," Bruce acknowledged. He set two bowls on the side table, ladling the soup into them, then pulled a chair and sat down. Terry drew up a chair and sat down next to him too, sipping at the edge of his spoon. They had spent three fruitless nights attempting to dig up anything foul about Huang Holdings, but nothing was surfacing. It was either a huge mistake, or the company was very good at covering their tracks. True, the frustration got from that was enough to warrant the Old Man's foul mood, but Terry thought there was more to this. Looking through all the files on the computer on Wonder Woman had been tempting, but Terry figured his skull would be in better shape if he didn't, knowing how easily Bruce found things like that out.

"So... what's the deal with you and Wonder Woman?" he asked after five minutes, voice as light and calm as possible, and inwardly cursing the wavering spoon in his hand.

Bruce glanced up from his bowl. "You're not going to give me one of those 'I grew up watching them as my heroes' speeches are you?"

"What? No!" Terry blurt out. "I mean," he said, calming his voice, "no, of course not. No. But really Bruce, you weren't this harsh even to Superman when he first went into the cave."

"Do you not think there is a reason why you haven't met Wonder Woman yet, despite having already gone on two bonafide missions with the Justice League?" Oh surely that was a no-brainer.

"There'd never been the opportunity, Wonder Woman said so herself."

"Diana hasn't given herself the opportunity. Or Kent. It doesn't matter. She's been smart enough to hold off till now."

"But why? I don't get it, what did she do to make you hate her so much? It's not cool, Bruce. She's like, one of the oldest members of the League, and she's respected by everyone. She's flawless, Bruce."

"And that's my problem." Bruce steadied a look at the teenager in front of him, daring him to contradict. Terry's lips twitched. So true to form. Bruce rolled his eyes as McGinnis opened his mouth to retort, only the boy caught himself just before he was about to. The boy had latched on to something he said. Mouth still open, it quirked into a smile as Terry leaned back in thought.

"You.. you liked her." Bruce could see the grin forming on the boy's face. Let him think what he wanted. This conversation was only serving as a peace offering after days of unwarranted lack of social grace on his part. Barbara was right. He was getting soft in his old age. The word 'like' sounded in his head. What a strange concept that was: Like. Not quite love, and able to veer in so many directions. Then it functioned as a simile. Diana, for instance, so like the sun, so like a torch, so like fire that could only consume him, never purge.

"I can't believe it. No way, you really liked her!" Where was Terry getting that impression from? His silence? Terry had started having a debate out loud mostly with himself, "No wait, but you're not like this to the Commish. Did she like you? Wonder Woman I mean. Ohh, awkward. Very awkward." Chin held in hand now, Terry was surveying his mentor's carefully schooled face. His eyes widened as another realisation seemed to strike him.

"Wait... do you still like her?"

There are more things in heaven and earth, McGinnis, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

-
2006:

Bruce was just stepping into the hall when the phone rang and Alfred answered it.

"Wayne Manor. Yes, of course, he'll be on in a minute." With that the phone was passed to him, Alfred going back to his polishing. Surely it wasn't the society dames calling so soon in thanks. He had only left the function half an hour ago, and to his knowledge the party still had a good few hours to go. Putting an ear to the receiver, he cleared his throat, making his way to the living room. Fully prepared to turn on the Bruce Wayne charm, it was stopped short by the voice that came up over the speaker.

"Bruce, it's me." Bruce frowned, shoulders stiffening. Diana.

"Not now, I'm busy."

"You're always busy. You've been busy since we expanded the League, busier after the Metrotower, and lately you've barely bothered with League calls."

"I fail to see how my presence was necessary, with so many able hands on deck."

"Would it hurt you to chat for a while?"

"Gotham needs me." It was the truth. She would have to accept that.

"Don't give me that line." The irritation was palpable through the phone's receiver.

"Is this newfound concern part of your noble plan to counsel everyone in the League? Not all of us must bow to your humanitarian code, your Highness," Bruce's voice reached a near discernable hiss, "Your concern, while appreciated, should be kept to yourself." He did not even bother to catch the pleading tones of 'Bruce, talk to me,' that came from Diana, clicking the receiver shut as soon as he had finished speaking.

The hall he stood in was dark, his silhouette stretched across the carpet. 'The adventure continues', she had said during the last battle with Darkseid. He still remembered the day with extreme clarity, or at least the pain. He had thought he would die, would have been willing to die, if he could only take Darkseid with him. Luthor's gambit had been unexpected, but paid off. Not that anyone knew where the two had really gone to, and for the past half a year Bruce preferred to let that be. Gotham needed to be rebuilt after all. He had staunchly refused help from the League. Gotham was his responsibility, and he would not attract more Metas to the already crime infested grounds with their repeated appearance. There was no doubt the dissolution of the Legion of Doom would spark more scrambling among the villains to get the best bones in the pile.

Of course, it was all an adventure to Diana. Her invulnerability made it possible to entertain this notion, not concern herself with the slightest possibility of another invasion once it was over. And... God help him, he had thought the same. Running down those steps with Clark and Diana flanking him, shoulders sore and ribs in agony, it had seemed like a game of tag. Five minutes head start. Had he really said that? Because rogue Metahumans were just a walk in the park, he was sure. What complacence, what idiocy, regardless of the fact that they had in fact been rounded up and were spectacularly cooperative on capture. Except Killer Frost, but that was another matter.

Still, Gotham's shadier nightlife had been busy. Ergo, so had he. If Diana did not understand that it was her own problem. He would not pander to her silly girlish whims for a Brady Bunch type fluffy team. Never date a colleague. Rule number one, ridiculously trashed by so many in the League. He could just hear Oliver's sneering voice if he were to try to actually implement that in the interests of greater efficiency. Not that he would have the right, part-time member as he was. Diana would be the one to knock him out for that one. He almost smirked at the thought. Almost. Her idealism was something he had no time for.

With most of his rogue gallery slowly being put away for good, and the better security installed at New Arkham and Stonegate just the other year, he had dallied with happiness. No, that wasn't it. He had succumbed. When she had first danced with him in Paris at that dreadful party, her strength had been outlined by her innocence, so different from the vapid socialites he was used to. And he had fallen. Life breathed in by the gods themselves, if they truly were that. Her grace, her agility, and that inner stolidity that said she would face all her troubles and overcome them. He saw those over the next few years. She intrigued him, and her openness captured him. He knew that now, that he had let himself get caught in a trap she barely knew she had set, and if it were to go any further, they would both plummet. He could not let that happen, would not.

He tore the image of her hair falling over her shoulders whenever she soared into the sky, buried each smile and each schoolgirl kiss on the cheek she had given him, and locked those sparkling blue eyes far away from him. Reaching the console, he gave the screen a quick once over. Barbara and Tim were due in from their patrol any time now. Except, where there should have been two tracking lights on the map, there was only one.

Tim was missing.