Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah blah.

Hmm, so it's been a while since I updated this story. I'm hoping to put up some more chapters in the upcoming days. If it seems like a rehash, I apologize. And I promise that new developments are in store in this next batch. Until then, enjoy.

Madly:

Chapter 18

"I think he went this way," the masked man said to the other men with him, and they took off into the alley below. The narrow, poorly lit, litter infested alley. From Bruce's position on the roof, the criminals looked small, like vermin scurrying into a trap.

He rolled his neck, listened to the satisfying crackle of bone sliding over bone. The action felt worn in, familiar. A stark contrast to the new sensations pulsing through him. As he continued watching the criminals trap themselves deeper in the dead end alley, his heart raced, pounding a rapid beat against his ribcage. And yet, unlike during his strenuous training regimens, he had done nothing. Only surveyed this area, staking out the best position for the upcoming confrontation. Bruce's skin prickled with excitement, and his blood roared through his veins, making him warm all over. There'd only been one other time he'd felt like this—on the mats in the Batcave's training room with Diana underneath him.

Is this what it had been like before? The so-called thrill of the chase?

He quietly made his way down the metal fire escape, dropping to the ground in a deep crouch behind a dark green dumpster. Standing up, he drew his cape around him, further disappearing into the dark. The special material covered his heat signature, making him nearly undetectable to any thermal instruments. The men he hunted were likely run of the mill criminals, but as his files had revealed, there was no telling what kind of weapons his opponents carried.

As Bruce scanned the alley way with his lenses, he could pick up no trace of heat or sound. Apparently the hoodlums he pursued were not of the average variety. Grabbing some smoke bombs in his utility belt, he sent them scattering into the dark. Whoever they were, they weren't wearing gas masks. Picking up on their coughs, Bruce walked unhurriedly towards them.

The brush of a hand against clothing and the tell-tale click were the only warnings he had before the alley lit up in a flash of bullets. Bruce ran across the pavement, shots nearly hitting his feet, ricocheting off the cement walls, booming echoes that beat against his eardrums making them ring.

Just as he approached them, one of the bullets hit him on his left side, and he almost fell. Harshly sucking air through his clenched teeth, he stumbled forward. He had never felt pain like this before. It was like getting punched by Superman. If he were wearing brass knuckles.

Channeling the pain into anger, Bruce ran forward, anxious to make them pay.

Suddenly a door burst open. The overhead lights turned on, flooding the dark alley, which was no longer an alley, but a landscape of white and green surfaces. The threat gone, revealed for the illusion that it was, caused the adrenaline surging through Bruce's veins to dissipate. Under the cape, Bruce clutched at his ribs, wondering how his old self fought through this kind of pain. Standing tall, he tried to present the strongest front to the angry woman now charging into the room, hands on her hips.

"What in Hades do you think you're doing?" she demanded of the four men.

The first criminal lowered his gun, pulled off his mask, revealing another mask, only this one was scarlet and with lightning bolts on the side. "I'd just like to point out that this was Batman's idea," he said, before disappearing from the room in a bright blur.

"Relax, Diana," said another of the "criminals," raising his hands to placate her. "We were only simulating what it will really be like when Batman returns to his patrols."

"You could have killed him," she snarled, taking a step forward. Her hands were curled in fists, and every muscle in her body seemed tuned to violence. It was the first time Bruce had ever seen anyone threaten Superman. Well, besides himself.

The last accomplice did not remove his mask, merely shifted shape to his true form.

"J'onn?" Diana asked incredulously, sounding even a little betrayed. "Why would you ever allow this madness?"

"Batman had everything under control," the Martian answered quietly. And correctly.

"Then why…" Diana's voiced trailed off, and Bruce looked over at her. According to his files, she did not possess X-ray vision, but her gaze bore into his cape, zeroing in on the place where his hands dug into his ribs. She blinked, then turned back to Superman. "Why is he hurt? Hera, Clark! What if the bullets missed the vest?"

"If they did, nothing bad would have happened. There's nothing but blanks in here." Superman held out the gun to her, but she pushed it away in disgust.

Bruce finally stepped forward, moving his cape off his shoulders, though the effort sent white hot pain lancing through his side. And yet that didn't bother him half as much as Diana's presence there. She had been scheduled to be at the Embassy for the entire day. He had arranged this particular training session in the Watchtower for that very reason. She wasn't supposed to be there at all. She wasn't supposed to see him fail.

"The bullets are designed to simulate the force of impact, but without any tearing of the skin or piercing of any vital organs. They don't even hit me, but there are sensors in my suit connected with their weapons, which detect when one of the projectiles, if real, would have hit me. When they connect with my suit, it sends a similar force to the general area of my body that was hit. Perfectly safe."

Diana laughed humorlessly. "That is your idea of safe? The force of a bullet hitting you, even if spread out over a larger area, is still great. You could have broken your bones."

Batman shrugged. "No pain, no gain."

"Why have I never heard of this before?" she asked, her chin raised defiantly.

"It was something I had been working on before I was abducted by R'as. We haven't been able to implement it until today."

Of course bringing up the time before his abduction did not help matters. It only served to remind Diana of whatever it was he'd done to hurt her. Fortunately, at the moment he wasn't exactly in a peace-making mood.

She shook her head, anger etched in ever plane of her face. "I don't like this."

Superman stepped forward. "Batman can handle this."

"But he's not—" she caught herself, but from the stricken look on her face Bruce could figure out what she would have said. He's not Batman.

He walked out of the room, refusing to stop or look behind him as Diana called out his name.

Diana burst out of the hologram training room, angry with Clark for detaining her. Bruce could be anywhere now, and Clark's justifications did little to lessen her anger. Only made her feel guiltier. Of course she knew Bruce was trying to prove himself. Even without his memories, he was still proud and hated to have others witness his failures and weakness. Knowing this, how could she be so stupid as to say what she did? Her only excuse was that she'd panicked at seeing him shot, but even she should have known their teammates would never have allowed Bruce to truly injure himself. And now, she'd just driven him further away.

Walking to the Monitor Room, she used the computers to locate Bruce. Surprisingly, he was not back in Gotham, but in his old quarters on the Watchtower. Using the time it took to get from the Monitor Room to his quarters, Diana tried to calm down, think of what she should say to him.

Things had already been strained before she'd thrown herself at him in the Batcave; now, they could hardly say two words to each other without it turning into a fight. That is, if he ever stayed to speak with her. Lately, whenever she entered a room, he would exit it within minutes. Like just now.
Maybe she should have just slept with him. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since he'd stormed out of the Batcave. And it wasn't because she was waking him from his nightmares. Those seemed to have stopped, and yet she spent her time tossing and turning on the bed, thinking of Bruce. It would be so easy to just give in to him. Walk across the hall and finish what she'd started back in the Cave.

Diana laughed mirthlessly. More like what he started. Bruce had played her. Nearly got what he wanted. She accused him of not knowing the real her, but how true could that be when he'd only been back a month and he'd already manipulated her into losing control.

But could it really be called manipulation? Maybe at the beginning, but she remembered the tenderness he'd shared with her. The loving words and reverent caresses against her skin. He was giving too much of himself for it to be classified as manipulation. But was it the love he claimed?

Diana shook her head. His love probably was sincere, but she had done the right thing. Sleeping with him would have only made things worse.

Probably.

Now at his door, she was no closer to figuring out what to say, and even more confused.

Raising her hand, she felt the number keys against the tips of her fingers and consider typing in the code. But he most likely changed it after he broke up with her. Instead, she knocked.
After a minute, she tried again. There was still no response. Looking down the hall to make sure there were no witnesses, she lifted her fist to punch through the mechanism, only to be startled when the door slid open.

"Yes?" Bruce asked, surprising her by opening the door in a towel, his hair still glistening from the shower. No one else was in the hallway, but she hurried past him, just in case. Someone had to protect his identity, and since he was being so cavalier about the whole thing, that task had fallen to her.

His eyes narrowed. "Sure, make yourself at home."

"Courteous as always," she snapped back. By Hera, she hated the way he looked at her, so condescendingly staring down the tip of his straight nose. Hated even more the way her stomach fluttered at the sight of his skin, covered only by the towel slung low on his hips.

"Before you say anything to upset me or make me regret this, I came here to apologize," she said, tersely. It sounded much more like an accusation than the apology she'd hoped to give him. Trying again, she said less stiffly, "I may have overreacted earlier."

Bruce said nothing. He still stood by the door, no doubt ready to usher her back outside. She walked further into his quarters, past the main entrance into the living space, hoping that he decided to follow her instead of leave.

The room was sparsely furnished. No paintings, no curtains. The only indication that anyone lived here was the bed in the corner that was fitted with white sheets instead of stripped bare. And the box on the nightstand. Curious, she moved towards it, only to be called back by Bruce.

"Sometimes we do things in the heat of the moment, which we later grow to regret."

Diana eyed him carefully. Was he referring to what happened in the Cave? She would not put it past him to rub salt in her wounds. Did he think it was easy for her, feeling as she did, and yet always having to push him away? Reining in her anger, she remembered her real reason for coming—making peace with Bruce.

"Exactly. So you understand why I am here." She stepped forward, walking toward him until they were eye to eye. "It was wrong for me to interfere. I should have realized you had everything under control."

He stared at her, as cold and emotionless as a stone wall. Every day that passed he became more and more like his old self, and a part of her wondered if she were to blame. He hadn't always been this way. Not until she'd rejected him repeatedly, forced him to restrain himself. She thought he understood her reasons, that it wasn't because she didn't want him.

"Bruce," she said, swallowing her pride and the sudden tightness in her throat, "it is difficult for me to see you get hurt…It always was. Only I see now that I am hurting you another way by not trusting in your preparation and skill."

"Apology accepted. Is there anything else?"

Diana nodded her head, carefully weighing what she would say next. "I want you to tell me how I can help you. I am tired of us being at cross-purposes when our goals are the same."

His eyes moved to her mouth, then back to her eyes. "We've already had this discussion. You said no. Quite emphatically."

"That's not true."

"Funny. That's how I remember it."

Swallowing her nervousness, she took a step forward, lightly resting her hands on his chest. Hopefully she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life. "Perhaps I'm willing to negotiate."

His chest expanded, drawing in a harsh breath. Unable to stop herself from touching him, she let her fingers trail lower, playing with the muscles of his abdomen.

His hands gripped her wrists, arresting her movements, but not pushing her away. "Stop," he ordered, his voice hoarse, close to breaking.

She freed herself from his hold and moved closer. He didn't remember, but she knew how he liked it when she whispered in his ear. How his heart raced when she touched the back of his neck. "Bruce, I was wrong."

She leaned in to kiss his mouth, but at the last second he turned his face away. Her lips grazed his jaw instead. "Diana, don't do this." This time his voice held no indecision. The command was low, a deep rumble in her ear. Batman's voice. She momentarily closed her eyes, stifling the shudder that wracked her body. It wasn't hard, since he was rejecting her.

She drew back, hurt and confused. Even more so when she saw how rigidly he carried himself. Fists balled at his sides. Jaw clenched. Pupils dilated and focused on her. Skin flushed.

It made no sense. Each time they stopped, it had been because of her. Bruce had always been willing. Even eager. "But you want me," she stated, though with less confidence than she would have liked.

"More than anything," he said, unashamedly.

"Then why—"

"I want all of you. And you're holding back."

Diana's eyes widened, incredulous. "I'm practically throwing myself at you. In what way can that possibly be construed as holding back?"

And then he was crowding her, pinning her between his body and the wall. His heat of his mouth burned against the delicate skin of her throat. "You want to negotiate. But I refuse to have anything less than all of you."

Diana closed her eyes, trying to focus on what he was saying. With her in her uniform and him only in a towel, she'd never felt so much of him since that night, and the images of them together burst against the back of her eyelids. "I don't understand," she said, breathlessly, pushing herself against him. "That's what I'm offering."

"You say that now, but the instant I talk about anything beyond my physical desire for you, you shut me out. As if my love for you is something repulsive."

He threw her away from him with a muttered curse. Were it not for the wall, she would have fallen to the ground.

Bruce stalked to the other side of the room. As far from her as possible, Diana noted sadly. She shivered at the loss of his warmth.

"Why can't you accept that I want more from you than your body and that I can give you more than sex?"

That's what this was about? Not that she didn't love him, but that she didn't believe he loved her. Why did he even care?

Pushing against the wall, she stood up fully, straightening her spine. "I already told you, you can't possibly know if you love me, because you hardly know me or yourself at all."

"Since I've woken up all I've known is you."

The words and his quiet sincerity made her heart twist painfully inside of her. She wanted so badly to accept him, but all her wanting did not change the facts.

"You fell in love with an aberration, not me. I can't live up to some impossible ideal you created that only had my face."

"She wasn't some impossible ideal. She was you. The only difference was that she actually let me try to love her."

"That's because you didn't hurt her."

They stared at one another, both pained and upset by the cruel accusations hurled between them. She expected him to walk out on her, wanted to walk out herself, but she had forgotten she was dealing with a new Bruce, and he surprised her once again. "If you told me what I did to you before, I could at least try to fix it," he quietly said.

"No. It wouldn't be fair to you." It wasn't his fault. Not really.

He laughed, the sound empty and grating. "That doesn't stop you from holding it against me."

She said nothing.

"Well, since you won't tell me my crime, I've had to come up with my own ideas. I've read my files on your people. To the Amazons, sex is an imposition. An intrusion, invasion. Given their history, that's understandable. But that begs the question of why you would ever sleep with me in the first place."

She'd never told him about that, and she didn't want to think of it now. She wasn't ready. "Bruce, please stop-"

Ignoring her plea, he pressed on. "I know you were in love with me; you've said as much. And I also know that you wouldn't have slept with me unless you thought I was in love with you."

His blue eyes bore into hers, compelling truth as powerfully as her lasso. "Yes."

"And because I ended things with you shortly after, you must have been wrong about my feelings?"

"Yes," she rasped, the admission torn from inside her.

Bruce shook his head, smiling but clearly upset. "But in spite of that, even after I hurt you, you are willing to negotiate." He spat out the last word as if it tasted as vile as spoiled milk. "You are willing to let me invade your body, because you want to help me?"

Diana glared back at him. Was he mocking her? Belittling her offer of herself? "As I told you before, that wasn't you, and I don't hold it against you."

Bruce shook his head. "It was me. I might not have the memory of it, but I still did it. And even if I can't remember it, you certainly do. Every time you look at me, you see the man who broke your heart. And yet, here you are, finally giving me everything you think I want. Because you're in love with me."

"Yes. I already told you that. Many times," she said, through gritted teeth. She was not ashamed for loving him. Maybe of herself, but never for loving him.

Bruce's voice softened, and his eyes, so tired and impossibly sad, implored her. "If you can still love me when I've caused you nothing but pain, why can't you believe that I love you when you've been nothing but perfect?"

"Bruce, I do believe you love me, it's just…"

"You don't trust me."

She thought this over carefully. So much seemed to be riding on it. Of course Bruce, even without his memory, was as sharp as ever. He'd hit the nail on the head. "I can't. This is all I can offer you now, even if I want to give you more. I have to protect myself."

What hope had appeared in his eyes while she deliberated was instantly snuffed out. He turned his back on her, as if the mere act of looking at her was painful to him. "And I want to give you my protection. But if I never regain my memory, you will never believe me. You won't give your heart to anyone but Batman, because he's the one that hurt you, so he's the only one you think can make it better. There isn't anything I can do to make you trust me, because you will always be worried that my memories will return, and I will finally decide that being with you is a mistake."

"Bruce, your memories could still come back. Some already have," she said, still clinging on to hope, however small. After all, she was in love with him. "Maybe then…"

"And until it does return, we do what? Have meaningless sex to pass the time?" His sarcasm bit deep into her heart.

"It wouldn't be meaningless," she protested.

"You're right. It would mean the world to me, while you would only accept it if I check my feelings at the door. Make it only just sex. But then I'd be selfishly using you. How would I be any different from those men who humiliated your people?"

"Bruce—" she pleaded, desperate for him to stop speaking. He usually was right, but this time he couldn't be further from the truth. It would never be like that between them.

But as she grew more emotional, he seemed to shut down entirely. His voice was clinical. Accepting. "We both know the longer my memory is gone, the chances of regaining it diminish. In a month, it will be a year since my abduction. I have no logical reason to believe it will ever return. And you have no faith in me or my love for you."

So this is what he'd meant by holding back. She could let him in, even sleep with him, but there would always be a part of her that doubted. Right now, with her desire of him heating her blood, it seemed like such a trivial thing. But over time, that wedge would grow, until it could very well happen that she would be joined to him physically while her heart and soul were completely separated from him.

Now that the problem was identified, she realized it was impossible to resolve. He had broken her before, and only just after she began to experience what she had mistaken for his love. If she gave herself fully to him, allowed herself to experience what her heart told her was genuine love from him, only to have it taken away if his memory returned...she didn't even want to think of that kind of pain. It was past comprehension.

She tried to stop them, but she could not hold back the tears that fell from her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Bruce. I wish I could be like her. I'm sorry that I'm hurting you."

He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. "And I'm sorry that I wasn't better to you before."

What else was there to say? She turned to leave, her heart breaking all over again. But Bruce had not let go of her hand.

"Diana, if you ever change your mind…I will wait for you."

She nodded, unable to speak or see him through her tears.

Diana walked out of his room. The heels of her boots clicked against the floor, echoing loudly down the empty hall, but she was oblivious to it all. All she could hear was the voice inside her telling her that Bruce wasn't the problem.

She was.

To be continued