Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

Still have an awesome beta. KN: LOL, Joaquian Phoenix he is not. Thank goodness. Goodnight, puny human! :D

Madly

Chapter Eight:

Apologies

After Clark's revelation, the three men exited the room, leaving Diana alone with Bruce for the first time in almost two years.

She wasn't even given time to think about all the recent developments, because a few moments later Bruce began to stir.

Diana opened the cell, closing it behind her. Walking up to his bed, she sat down on the floor beside his cot, setting down the rag and bowl of cold water she had brought with her.

His temperature readouts were too high, so she pulled his blanket off and began unbuttoning his shirt, which had twisted around his writhing form.

She stared down at the familiar sight of his body, eyes wide with shock. His torso was bare in every sense of the word. Unbelieving, she reached out, trailing her hands over a chest and stomach that were completely devoid of scars. She remembered how it was before; the smoothness of his skin felt wrong to her touch.

He stirred again, groaning, and she snatched her hands away. Quickly soaking the rag in the water, she wrung it before applying it to his forehead. As she moved his long hair out of his face, the growth of his beard rasped against her wrist.

"It's alright, Bruce. I'm here." she said, unable to help herself, but convinced he couldn't even hear her.

His eyes snapped open, and he stared at her a second, not moving a muscle.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. "Wait, let me get you something to drink."

When she came back into the cell with a glass of water, he was sitting on his cot, feet on the ground with his blanket held up against his chest.

"Here," she said, offering him the glass, but he didn't take it immediately. The cup felt heavy in her hand. She was tired, and the look of distrust in his eyes hurt her. It had been some time since he had looked at her that way, had looked at her at all. She had forgotten how much it hurt.

Squeezing the glass in her hand, she sighed. "Please take this. You're dehydrated. I don't want you to get sick." Diana moved the glass closer to his face, but he brushed it gently aside.

"Is it really you?" he asked.

"Drink first. Questions later."

He took the glass and gulped the liquid down in seconds. "Now tell me," he ordered.

"Yes, it's really me."

"Tell me your name." His intensity scared her, and she worried that she would further upset him if she didn't answer.

"Diana."

"And…are we friends?"

How was she supposed to answer that question? He didn't remember, didn't know the hell he had put her through. They hadn't been friends for a while, but something kept her from telling him that. Again, J'onn's words came back to her, and she tried to answer in a way that Bruce expected. She needed to gain his trust.

Swallowing down her pain and anger, she said, "Yes, we're friends."

She watched him grip the edge of his cot, his perfect arms tensing as he pushed off the bed. He took a step. Then another, until finally he was standing only inches from her.

"Why didn't you come sooner?" he asked.

"I didn't know you were here. Otherwise I would have." Diana bit down on the inside of her lip, stifling its tremble before speaking. "I'm sorry."

"Are we…are we in love with each other?" Bruce asked, barely over a whisper.

Hera, this wasn't fair. She was with Tom. She wanted to be happy with Tom. And yet, if she answered the question the way Bruce wanted to, she knew she wouldn't be lying. At least on her end. Speech was impossible; she could hardly suppress the sob in her throat. With tear-stained eyes, she simply nodded, all the while trying not to look at him.

His hand went to hers, gently taking it between his fingers, almost as if he feared she would disappear before his eyes. After a second, he raised her hand to his face, rubbing his bearded cheek against her palm. It was surreal.

Her knees felt as if they would give out from under her, but it didn't matter, because his arms were now wrapped around her, holding her tight against his body. He had lost weight, but he was still powerful enough to squeeze the air out of her. And if his bear hug were not enough to rob her of oxygen, the feel of his mouth against her neck and lips sufficed.

"I thought I would never see you again," he rasped against her jaw.

In utter shock, she looked into his eyes, trying to ignore the racing of her heart. A clammy hand was in her hair, pulling on the dark strands as he caressed the side of her face. "I'm sorry," he brushed his lips against hers, "I'm sorry I left you. Say you forgive me."

She had waited almost two years for him to apologize, and now that he said it she didn't know what to do. She just stood there, her mouth hanging open.

He leaned in, resting his nose against her cheek. "Tell me you forgive me," he demanded.

And then he was kissing her again.

This was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels, but she closed her eyes and let him kiss her till he stopped.

Except he didn't. When his hands moved to her hips, started a slow trek upwards, she knew she would have to be the one to put an end to this. Waiting one last second, she took his hands and pulled back. She tried to smile, but it felt like someone was tearing her up from the inside out. "Batman, I'm glad you're back. And that your memories are beginning to return."

His head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed. "Why did you call me that? I'm Bruce."

"Because you told me to…" Diana's argument died on her lips, as J'onn's warning reasserted itself. But she was confused; did Bruce only selectively remember that he had broken up with her?

No, it couldn't be that. J'onn said all of his memory had been wiped. How was it that he seemed to remember her? That meant…

Diana took a step back, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. Bruce remembered nothing of his previous life, except her. But it wasn't really her, just some hallucination of herself brought about by the induced madness of the Lazarus Pit.

Diana steered him back to his cot, needing to get out of the confines of this room as soon as possible. "Lie down. You aren't in any shape to be getting out of bed."

She expected him to argue, but he only grabbed her hand and sat her down next to him. He turned her hand over, bringing her palm to his mouth. "I can't believe you found me," he said.

His eyes were full of adoration for her, just as they used to be. But Bruce had never been this vocal or demonstrative in his affections towards her. It was both beautiful and terrible. She had wanted this openness, and now to finally have it made her spirit pulse with joy. But it was false; she couldn't ignore that Bruce wasn't himself. None of this was real. It was like having her heart broken all over again.

It was too much. Not wanting him to see her cry, she gently retracted her hand and stood to leave. "You need to sleep. I promise I'll come back when you wake up."

She turned to walk away, but his voice arrested her. "Don't leave me." The words were filled with desperation, so unlike the confident and assured man she had known. She couldn't leave him like this, but at the same time, she hated seeing him in this condition.

Diana couldn't stop herself. Everything that had happened—their breakup, the loneliness, his disappearance, her relationship with Tom, and now this, seeing Bruce stripped of himself and madly in love with her—she just wasn't strong enough to handle it. She felt her lip quiver, and then the tears were falling down her face.

And then he was standing, embracing her in his arms, leading her back to the cot. She was too weak to protest, and she didn't want to. Soon she was folded in his arms, her head resting against his chest. As she silently wept, he murmured into her hair.

She fell asleep to a chorus of 'I love you's.

To Be Continued