Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: It's late in my neck of the woods and I did some last minute editing. Apologizing in advance if I rehashed things from previous chapters. I'd like to think I'm exposing new parts of their problem, but it could be wishful thinking. In any case, hope you like.

Madly:

Chapter 17

Bruce sat in his cave, staring up at the large screen of his computer. It hadn't taken him more than a day to figure out the controls and view his files. By now he was adept with all his technologies, and he was currently running video of one of his training sessions with Diana.

Diana was out of the house, tending to her ambassador duties. Whatever time she had that was not devoted to Themyscira or the League was spent with him in the Manor. In her absence, the other founding members or his Batclan trained with him. No matter where she went though, she made sure to return for the evenings. He knew it was because of his nightmares. Part of him hated that she had to inconvenience herself to be beside him, but an even larger part of him loved her for staying.

The League had decided not to announce the return of Bruce Wayne, so most of his days were spent in training. Now, after a month of living with Diana, Bruce was on his way to regaining the muscle mass he had lost. Somehow his body had stored his fighting skills. He didn't know them; they simply came whenever needed as he sparred with Diana or whomever else he was training with. As fortunate as that was, he still had to take the time of isolating the movements, naming them, and relearning them so they would come at his command and not as some reflex.

When he wasn't training and Diana was gone, he spent time with Alfred. They would pour over old photo albums and news clippings, which Alfred narrated with his personal perspectives. Bruce was just beginning to understand the importance of his parents to himself, but also to the people of Gotham City. Unfortunately, knowing the cause of his mission did not trigger any more memories than what had returned that night with the painful aid of Diana's lasso.

Bruce laid his head back on the chair's rest. His skin prickled as he recalled the way Diana had pushed him back into this very chair, his head falling back on the rest as her mouth traveled over his throat and jaw. His hands clenched in fists, remembering the way they had gripped and twisted the soft material of her dress. Bruce rubbed his eyes, trying to dislodge the memory that assailed every time he sat in the chair.

Now after a month spent living with Diana, Bruce knew things were almost at the breaking point between them, but she wouldn't relent. And ever since the incident with the lasso, things had gotten worse. He could see how she watched him, how tempted she was to start over with this new version of him. If her hesitance were out of fear, that he could understand. He was aware that his old self had hurt her, and she worried he would do the same when his memories returned.

But he often wondered if the real reason she kept away was because he wasn't the old Bruce. As he watched old news footage about Batman, met with Dick and Barbra, immersed himself in files from the League and his own computer, he began to understand just how brilliant and determined his former self truly was. Faced with what he used to be and what he was now, he wondered if Diana thought he didn't measure up.

Bruce opened his eyes and grimaced at the images on the screen; the footage of Diana throwing him to the ground was on an endless loop. After about the tenth time of seeing her best him, he paused the video.

He could give up, but deep down he knew that wasn't in his nature. He was going to have her. She said she didn't know if she would take him back without his memory, but he was convinced she would. But only under one condition.

Diana talked of her worries, mostly of taking advantage of him, so he would have to remove that particular anxiety. He didn't need her mothering him anyway. He wasn't her patient, but she continued to look at him that way. He needed to show her his strength, his ruthlessness, and cunning. In short, he needed to be Batman. It was the return of Batman she needed. It was Batman that had hurt her. If he could prove to her that he was capable of taking on the cape of the Dark Knight, she wouldn't have a reason to keep refusing him.

He had studied enough of his former self to guess what Batman was like. And while his memory was gone, it wasn't like he was an entirely different person. Buried somewhere deep within him was the same man who had subdued the criminal element in Gotham. Earned the respect and even fear of powered heroes. Made Diana, Princess of the Amazons, fall in love with him. And he would find some way to do it again.

Half an hour later, Diana quietly made her way down the stairs of the Cave wearing her Wonder Woman uniform.

"Any luck?" she asked. Just as she did every day. As usual the answer was, "No."

She walked behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

He shrugged her hands off and stood to his feet. "No."

Just as he turned to walk away, she grabbed his hand. "I know this is frustrating for you—"

"Do you?"

He could see her eyes spark, but she held her tongue. "Wallowing in self-pity is not going to bring your memory back."

"And neither is talking about my feelings."

"It's not good to bottle up all these emotions, Bruce. They need an outlet."

He pulled her to him, trapping her arm between their bodies. His eyes darted down to her mouth, then back to hold her gaze. "Unfortunately, you don't seem to like the ways I want to express myself."

By now, she knew what he wanted. Dropping his hand, she sighed and said, "I already told you, I won't be in a relationship with you. Not until-"

"I'll see you upstairs for dinner."

He took one step, but she blocked his way. When he tried to push her out of the way, she used her powers. It was like trying to walk through a brick wall. "No. We are going to work through this," she ordered.

"I don't want to talk."

"Neither do I." She turned on her heel, calling over her shoulder, "We'll settle this in the training room."

Precisely what he had in mind.

When he walked in, she was already on the mat, feet apart in a fighting stance but without her boots. Bruce circled around her, knowing that she expected him to make the first move. He held out, wanting her to break first.

After a series of feints, he found his in. It was only a slight drop of her left arm when she leaned in to punch him, but it was enough of an opening. He aimed for her ribs, barely missing them. But he had expected the dodge and had already planned a follow up move. This she had not anticipated, and as a result she was now on her back, staring up at him.

"Nice takedown," she offered politely, but he could hear the irritation in her voice. They had both been under a lot of stress.

She hopped back on her feet, and before she could settle into her stance, he swept her feet out from under her.

After about the fifth time Diana ended up on her back due to some questionable moves by Bruce, she looked about ready to kill him. He indulged in a small smirk, careful to make sure she would see it.

Diana didn't even try to get up. Practically yelling, she lunged for his calves, knocking him to the ground. The material of his t-shirt was gripped between her fists, and she bared her teeth, too livid to speak.

It wasn't quite what he predicted, but it would do.

He smiled, pretending to be completely unaffected by her anger and similarly unaware of her knees gripping his hips.

She was seething, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her flushed skin. "I know what you're trying to do."

He wasn't going to deny it.

"I should be angry that you keep forcing this issue, even when I tell you it's important that we don't pursue this."

He wasn't going to deny that either, but even if he wanted to, she didn't give him a chance. Now she was the aggressor, angry lips attacking willing mouth, less than gentle hands threading through his hair in an effort to draw him close. Resistance was both futile and nonexistent. At least for Bruce. His shirt, however, was less willing to comply, but eventually it succumbed to their joint efforts. He tried not to smile as she stared at his chest, but he was unable to stifle the low groan at the back of his throat when she trailed her hands down his torso.

"You used to be covered with scars, and now…"

"Is it a bad thing?"

He struggled to keep his eyes open as she began trailing kisses over his collarbone and chest. "There are…advantages to both," she said.

Lifting his head, he pulled her upward. Her entire upper body straightened, and he shifted his weight to his hands, leaning back on locked elbows, his face level with her stomach. She inched forward on her knees, bracing her hands on his shoulders as her hair tumbled around their faces. He was tired of waiting. Raising himself, he kissed her. Having practiced restraint for so long, he let his hands wander free, first up her legs, then over her back and shoulders.

His mouth was on her neck, lips pressed to her hammering pulse. Her breaths came out short and fast, and she trembled under his touch. Bruce fell back on the mat, enjoying her weight on top of him. Hand to hand, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. It was incredible. Every good thing he could possibly think of, had known since he had woken up in that jungle was confined to the beautiful woman in his arms, and he had no plans of letting her go any time soon.

How was it possible that his former self had broken up with her? Kept their relationship a secret while they were dating? Never even told her he loved her? Well, he could not fix the other things, but the last problem was easily remedied.

He whispered the words against her skin and mouth, pouring everything he felt for her into those three syllables. The tender litany built, louder each time he said it. Over labored breathing, the brush of clothing and bodies against each other.

"I love you," he said, one last time.

Diana was now beneath him, but unmoving, staring up into his face with doe eyes, as if just hearing the words for the first time. From the way she looked at him, he could tell that wasn't a good thing.

He closed his eyes in frustration, trying to bite back a tortured groan. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. It's just..." she blinked, obviously searching for the right words. Finally, she said, "It's perfect," though her tone spoke otherwise.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him close, but effectively ending whatever was about to happen. He could feel her inhale deeply against his chest, and he shifted to his side, taking her with him. "What's wrong with perfect?"

Her sigh was as soft as the brush of her fingers on his face. "The old you didn't believe in perfect."

"The old me was an idiot." It was the only explanation for how he could have denied the existence of perfection after seeing Diana.

Diana turned away, lying on her side. He watched the rise and fall of her back as her breathing returned to normal, as she returned to her former coolness. He had to speak with her before she withdrew completely and shut him out again. Not like his old self did with brusque answers and glares, but with stiff manners and forced smiles.

"Is there something wrong with who I am now?" he asked. He dreaded the answer, but the question had been bothering him longer than he could say. Diana surpassed even his wildest imaginings, and the idea that he was somehow inadequate was unsettling. Painful.

"No, not at all. But the old you was never this unguarded, and I think, once you remember you will regret this. I want this to be your decision, and you can't make it until you are fully informed."

"I am informed. I've done nothing but go over my old life. Talking to Alfred and everyone else who knew me. Reading and rereading all my case files. Even following my training regimens. And I keep coming to the same conclusion: my old life was empty."

He watched her as she lay there silently, his heart in his throat.

"How can you say it's empty? You have nothing to compare it with," she finally said.

"In that jungle, I lived without everything. No memory, no fortune, no fame, no city. And I was content, because you were there with me. That's all I need to know."

Diana turned back to him, weariness clear in every feature. Not the reaction he was expecting. "You can't make these life altering decisions just because you think you love me."

Bruce pushed himself into a seated position, digging his fingers into the mat. "Look, I know I hurt you. I get that, but don't presume you know the extent of what I feel for you. I know I love you. Stop questioning that and making this so difficult."

"I'm not trying to be difficult," she snapped. "The situation is complex. I don't know if you loved me before you disappeared. And the thing you fell in love with wasn't me. I may look and sound like her, but I'm not her. You imagined me without powers; some idealized version that I can never be. Have you ever thought of that?"

No, and he wouldn't because it wasn't important. Winning this argument was. "And this month we've been together? That counts for nothing?"

"No, but—"

"Do you even want to be with me? Because if you're just delaying rejecting me out of pity or because you think I'll go crazy again, I'd rather you leave."

"You are just proving my point. If you truly knew me, you would never accuse me of leading you on. What I just did with you was not out of pity, and it certainly wasn't done because I'm afraid of you going insane."

"Then why did you stop?"

"I let my emotions and desires get the better of me. But no matter how much I want this, it would be selfish to take advantage of you in this way. And I guarantee that the old Bruce would think so too." Diana stood to her feet, signifying to him that this would be the end o the discussion. "Do you wish to spar again?" she asked, offering him a hand up, a mask of politeness falling once more over her features.

Bruce stood up and left the room.

To Be Continued...

I'll try to post another chapter within the next week. Also, go Team USA! =D