We still don't own them. More's the pity.

-X- -X- -X- -X- -X-

The world re-formed around Diana, and she inhaled the sterile, recycled air of the Watchtower. As different from Themyscira as any place could be, the Justice League's moon base was as much her home as the island. It felt right to wear the armor again, to have the lasso at her hip and the tiara on her head.

Like Donna, Diana could never be happy being only an Amazon. Unlike her sister-self, she could wait for deeper companionship. What she couldn't wait for was answers. The murderer on Themyscira had to be found and her own investigative skills had proven unequal to the challenge. Simply put, she needed Batman. And, if he were anywhere today, it would be here on the moon, attending the Justice League meeting.

She made her way to the meeting room to find that she was the second to arrive. Kyle -- Green Lantern, she reminded herself, as he was in costume -- stood looking out the armored windows toward Earth. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and nodded a greeting.

Diana noted how composed he seemed, how secure in himself. She smiled again at the thought of him and Donna being able to share forever.

Then he blinked. "Diana? You're back?"

"I'm back," she said. "And very glad to be."

"So am I," he said, matching her smile.

Her forehead creased in confusion. Had he not been available for Donna to offer him the ambrosia? "Back? You've been away on a mission, then?"

"No. I just faced a very interesting life choice recently." His mouth twitched in a half-smile. "You probably know something about it. Donna offered me eternal life."

"I knew she had the chance to. I didn't know she'd done it already."

"You could've knocked me over with a feather when she did. I mean, I thought this ring --" it glowed on his finger briefly -- "was a big gift."

"I can't think of anyone better suited." She would've stepped forward to hug him, but something in his stance made her stop.

"I turned her down."

Diana felt her stomach fall. She'd been so sure Donna would be happy. It had never occurred to her that Kyle wouldn't want the gods' gift. "How did she take that?"

"Well enough." He chuckled softly. "Too well to have been in love with me."

"Kyle -- I'm sorry." She stretched out a hand to offer comfort, surprised again when he shook his head.

"It's okay, Diana, really. The truth is, I'm not in love with her, either."

Diana swallowed. Even though she was no longer the goddess of truth, Hestia's gift to her before she was born still held, and she sensed the sincerity in Kyle's words. But, if they didn't love each other, how would Donna find happiness with the gifts the gods had given her?

"Diana." Wally's -- The Flash's -- enthusiastic greeting distracted her from thoughts of her sister. "I didn't know you were coming back. Are you still a goddess?"

"No. No longer." She'd given that up for Donna. Or so she'd told herself. Perhaps she'd given it up for herself, so she could have this back -- her role as Wonder Woman, her place with these people.

"Well, damn." Wally grinned. "Here I thought I'd be able to say that god -- or at least a goddess -- is on our side."

"Wonder Woman is more than enough," Clark said as he came through the door, his cape billowing with each step. "It's good to have you back, Diana."

She turned into his embrace. The world could think they were lovers. They both knew better, and right now it was good to see her friend again. "It's very good to be back."

Diana stepped back and glanced over Clark's shoulder. "Batman's not usually late."

"Thirty seconds is late?" Kyle asked.

"For Batman," Diana chorused with Clark and Wally.

Kyle shook his head. "That man's cowl is on too tight."

"He'll be here later," Clark said. "He said, quote, budget meetings put me to sleep, end quote."

"Much later, I hope." That bellow could only be Aquaman. Diana nodded to him, and then at J'onn and the rest of the team.

"We're all here," Clark said, "so let's get started."

Diana didn't want to get trapped in the meeting either. She needed to find Batman, and she wanted to see Donna and find out how she was dealing with Kyle's rejection. She watched the others settle and then slipped out the door. Not wanting to leave the Watchtower without talking to Batman, she found her way to the Observation Deck.

She wondered sometimes why the architects of the tower had constructed this circular room. Perhaps it was to give everyone a good view of the Earth they were sworn to protect. It was awe inspiring to stare at the whole world in the sky overhead. The sight reminded Diana that she couldn't think only of the needs of those she loved. She needed to remember the larger picture.

It would have been easy to focus on Donna. But, Diana had to remember that someone able to kill armed and trained Amazons roamed her home island. That had to take precedence -- but she could do nothing about that until Batman arrived.

Until then, she could consider Donna. That was more comfortable than pondering her own failures -- and she had failed. She'd seen Donna's need, but never considered the solution could be more complex than a draught from the gods.

She could tell herself that it happened because she loved Donna, and she loved Kyle, and she would have loved to see them together. But that, too, would be a lie. The truth, as painful as it was to admit, was that she didn't know her sister or her teammate well enough to discern the nuances of their relationship. Some goddess of truth she'd turned out to be.

A silken whisper, fabric against armor, alerted her to the new presence. Diana turned before he could speak, pleased to be able to detect a man who moved as quietly as night itself.

A smile ghosted across Batman's mouth, the only sign he'd give that he appreciated her skill. "Superman said you were looking for me."

"I need your help," she said, and briefed him on the events on Themyscira, concluding with, "I have many skills, but no one is a better detective than you."

Diana waited. She could only see Batman's lower face, and neither his jaw nor his mouth gave a hint of what he was thinking. After a moment he said, "I wish I could help. But, Bruce Wayne has obligations that can't be ignored."

"This is important," she pressed.

"I understand, but I'm not the only detective available." He must've seen her frown, because he added, "Nightwing's been helping your sister with some issues recently. He might be able to help you as well."

"Nightwing?" Diana frowned. She knew of him, thanks to Wally and Donna, but she'd never worked with him.

As if to urge her to accept Batman said, "I taught him everything I know."

Diana had no choice but to agree. "I just need to know how to contact him."

-X-

Dick had allowed almost five hours for the drive to Washington. In theory, if traffic ran well, it would just take slightly more than four hours. In practice, that was a very big 'if.'

He'd intended to spend the drive working out a plan to defeat Slade Wilson, but thoughts of Donna kept distracting him. They'd spent a day together, sometimes making love, sometimes talking, sometimes just wrapping themselves in the comfort of each other, but there'd been no commitments. She'd said she wanted a lover, and he'd been the best one he knew how to be.

He had no doubt she'd enjoyed their time together as much as he had, but was that all she wanted? Under normal circumstances, that question wouldn't trouble him. He could be patient. He believed he could prove himself worth keeping. But the vial full of ambrosia rested in a compartment on his left wrist, and its presence made all these issues immediate.

If he knew she loved him, he would simply drink the ambrosia. That would deny Deathstroke any chance of increasing his already formidable abilities and improve Dick's own chances in combat. But, to use the gods' gift for expedience, not knowing he would be her choice, felt like a betrayal.

He shied away from betraying someone he loved. He'd been betrayed himself, and he knew what that felt like. He wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone else. So -- how could he defeat Deathstroke without using the ambrosia?

It would be a challenge, he knew, not only because Deathstroke operated at more than human normal capacity, but because Dick himself still wasn't at his peak. He'd visited Leslie Thompkins' clinic in Gotham and she'd injected him with steroids to speed his recovery, but his shoulder still hurt when he moved too quickly, and quick movements were guaranteed when he was fighting Deathstroke.

He passed the exit for 3rd Street. If he'd taken that and turned down F Street he could visit the international spy museum. That spying sounded like a vacation break said worlds about the level of tension he'd been living with. "Maybe someday, providing I survive the afternoon," he told himself.

Instead he kept to the freeway, passing the capitol and eventually taking the Potomac Park exit onto Ohio Drive. The day was gray and rainy, limiting the number of tourists, and he was lucky enough to find a spot along the road. Dick checked his watch -- nearly half an hour early.

More time to plan. He really needed a good plan. Soon.

Dick knew the confrontation wouldn't take place at the Jefferson Memorial. Instead, he'd find a clue that would lead him somewhere else. It would be a place that gave Deathstroke the best advantage and inhibited Dick as much as possible.

"Means someplace open, away from any good places to hook a jump line or find cover when the fighting gets hot." He locked the car and stuffed hands in the pockets of his coat. Good thing it was chill and rainy. The weather made his coat less conspicuously out of place. "Wilson's learned not to try to confine me. I managed to take out Blockbuster in a confined space."

On the other hand, Deathstroke wouldn't lead him on a chase just for the chase's sake. He'd pick a place relatively close, certainly within the DC metro area. Dick ran through possibilities in his mind. The National Mall, of course, or maybe Arlington National Cemetery. Dick shook his head. There were too many possibilities. He'd have to wait until he found the clue.

That wouldn't be too long from now, he thought as he approached the memorial proper. Thanks to its orientation in West Potomac Park overlooking the tidal basin, Dick had to approach the building from the rear -- where, he noted, there was a small parking lot filled with cars.

He rounded the circular colonnade to climb the steps to the portico. He wasn't certain whether he should be grateful this was one of the less popular memorials in Washington or not. Still, a double handful of tourists stood under the dome, some eyeing the statue of Jefferson. Others read the words of the great man carved on the interior panels.

Two girls in their late teens, eating ice cream, giggling, and whispering from behind raised hands, seemed to be studying him. Nightwing suspected they were bored with the sights, but kept circling the interior of the monument to avoid the rain. A boy of about fifteen strayed from his parents to get a closer look at him as well. None of the other tourists offered Nightwing more than a glance. As expected, Deathstroke was nowhere in sight.

He had to make up his mind about the vial. That the idea of using it hadn't vanished from his mind the moment he thought the word "betrayal" troubled him. So did the fact he could see few ways to get out of Washington with both the vial and the arrow if he didn't drink the ambrosia. Dick wasn't used to choosing the lesser of two evils. He'd lived by the idea that you kept evaluating options until you found the good solution.

He checked his watch. Still a good ten minutes before noon. Deathstroke would be exactly on time with his message, though how it would be delivered, Dick couldn't guess. He might as well look the part of the tourist while he waited. The boy he'd noted earlier passed close enough to mutter, "Nice boots, man," before striding out into the rain. His parents followed, huddled under one umbrella. The girls, two couples, and a family of five remained under the dome.

Dick allowed his gaze to wander. Overhead, the inscription along the frieze read: "I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man."

"You and me both, Mr. President," Dick murmured. The words might inspire others, but it offered no solution to the current problems. No god was likely to help him out of this mess. In fact, gods had caused it. So swearing on altars probably wouldn't help him. And the inscription didn't suggest a clue either.

He turned to the southwest and smiled. He knew the words inscribed there. "We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…" he read the rest, noting that the passage had been edited. Was that not why he was here? To retrieve an item which could deprive people of life? That might be true, but didn't give a hint of where he might meet Deathstroke.

Maybe he was approaching this problem wrong. Maybe he needed to think about Slade Wilson the man. Deathstroke considered himself a loyal soldier as much as he saw himself as a hired blade. The man would hold the words carved into these walls sacred, if he held anything sacred.

But what did that tell him, other than that they were both men of honor, however different their personal codes might be?

He turned to the southeast panel. The words there were unfamiliar -- and singularly unhelpful.

"I am not an advocate for frequent changes in laws and constitutions. But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as new discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manners and opinions change, with the change of circumstances, institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times."

"No offense, Mr. President," Dick said, "but you're not helping."

"Excuse me." The voice was high, feminine, and he turned to see the two teenage girls standing beside him. One of them stared at him, and the other said, "But are you Mister Grayson? The one on the scavenger hunt?"

Scavenger hunt? Okay, that might fit Slade's sense of humor. He kept his gaze focused on the girl who'd spoken and tried to pretend he wasn't being mentally undressed by the other teenager. "Yeah, that's me. You have a clue for me?"

"Uh-huh." She scrunched up her forehead in concentration. "He said the next clue is at the point of the arrowhead."

"Thanks." He hoped they'd go away, but they continued to stare at him. Dick gave them a quick, discouraging smile and headed back out of the monument.

"Hey." The girl who'd spoken called. He paused and turned back. "He said be there in ten minutes."

"Useful piece of information." Dick glanced at his watch. The girls hadn't waited until exactly noon. His watch read 11:57, which meant he had thirteen minutes to figure out the puzzle and get there. "Thanks."

He paused on the steps, staring out across the water, first toward the Washington Monument. In the vaguest of terms, the obelisk could be thought of as an arrow, with the summit the point, but Dick was pretty sure he knew what the clue really meant. Wilson was a first rate bastard. He was setting up a situation where a lot of innocent people could die.

Dick wasn't surprised.