Disclaimer: Surely by now you know the drill.

Madly:

Chapter 19

One month later, the issues between them remained unresolved. Bruce knew he should confront Diana, but decided not to. He didn't want to lose her, and was afraid that if he kept pushing, she would give up on him completely and leave. He was quite certain his old self would have made that gamble, but he was no longer that person.

Not that it mattered. Even though he considered himself an improvement on the old Bruce, he couldn't convince Diana of that. Rather than force the issue to come to a head, they had made an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's way as much as possible.

Training together ceased. Members of the League who already knew his identity and the people in his Batclan sparred with him. Alfred, Clark, J'onn, and Dick discussed matters pertaining to the world and Gotham. Almost everything that Diana had helped him with had been taken over by others, with the exception of waking him up from his nightmares.

No one filled that place.

The nightmares had not stopped, and that night after she'd left him in his Watchtower quarters, he'd forgotten to bury his face in his pillow as he had on the previous days. Diana had stormed in, ready to tackle his demons. The moonlight shone through the windows of his room, making her skin seem to glow in the darkness. Just like that first night she'd saved him after he'd passed out in Ras's jungle shack. She sat on his bed, hair spilling down her shoulders, eyes full of concern. If he had wanted, he could have reached out and touched her. If he had wanted, he could have done even more than that. The offer still stood, even if Bruce would never accept it on the terms she had given when she offered herself. So instead, he asked her to stop coming.

Since then, he had woken up every night by himself, knowing she wouldn't be there, but hoping all the same. While he tried to fall back to sleep, he'd wonder why the old Bruce had pushed her away. He had searched his files for any mention of their relationship, but there had been none. There had only been that box he'd discovered in his Watchtower quarters before he'd taken his shower, before Diana had come in. There were some photographs of the two of them and a ring. But no explanation for why he would end things with a woman he seemed on the verge of asking to marry.

If he hadn't already decided that he would be with her no matter what, Bruce wasn't sure he wanted his memories back. Not that he was afraid of learning anything that would make him change his mind about Diana. He was sure it didn't exist. But there was something else that plagued him, that ate away at the back of his brain. What kind of man had he been that could have pushed her away? He hated the idea that there was a version of him that could choose to live without her. Could watch her suffer alone without coming to her aid.

It was because he was no longer that man anymore he couldn't ask her to leave, even though she was pretty much only taking up space in the Manor. It was pathetic, but the possibility of just passing her in the hall was better than not seeing her at all.

Unfortunately, with each passing day, the likelihood that she would stay forever grew slimmer, and he had to prepare for the eventuality of her departure. After she left, the only link between them would be the Justice League. Which meant, more than ever, he had to become Batman.

Since that failed exercise that Diana had interrupted, Bruce had gone through a series of tests proposed by J'onn, Clark, and Dick. Tests of strength, intelligence, stamina. Everything that Batman had come across in his years of fighting crime, and he had passed with flying colors.

Satisfied, all his Batclan and the founding members of the Justice League had cleared him for patrol. All that was except for Diana. And she would not clear him unless he passed this last test.

Of all the trials he'd undergone, this was the hardest, and he was pretty sure he was failing. The other tests had at least made some sense, and the answers had come quickly, instinctually. They were hidden somewhere deep down, surfacing as he fought or tried to solve some problem. But he had no idea what to do now.

So Bruce just stood there and watched the wind play with Diana's hair. Didn't move to help her as she knelt to the ground and placed the red roses in front of the nearly identical tombstones. Didn't react in any way to the words he must have read dozens of times in his past life if he was to believe Alfred.

He knew all the facts. The date. The theater. The pearls. The order of their deaths. The murderer. The eight-year old witness.

It wasn't that Bruce felt nothing. There was some stirring, but it was just a general feeling of injustice for wrong done to strangers. Nothing close to the all consuming grief, anger, and vengeance that haunted Bruce Wayne when his parents had been ripped from his life.

They were merely names and dates on a head stone, a testament to the evil of man.

Thomas Wayne

Beloved Father

1944-1984

And

Martha Wayne

Beloved Mother

1948-1984

Just another fact.

Diana finally rose from her place on the ground and looked at him. He could see the tears glistening in her eyes, and it struck him as odd that Thomas and Martha's deaths would affect her more than their own flesh and blood.

Out of sheer curiosity and with little forethought, Bruce asked, "Why are you crying? They died long before you even left Themyscira."

She winced at his words, and he immediately regretted them. "I'm sorry, Diana. I was just wondering. You don't need to answer."

Her faced stayed serene, but he saw her fingers curl into fists, as if what she was about to say was difficult for her. "I honor your parents because without them Batman would not exist."

By that reasoning, they should also be laying roses at the gravestone of Joe Chill. But he didn't say that. Even if he felt nothing for his parents, it was rather evident that Diana cared deeply for them. And Bruce cared deeply for her.

After a few seconds of consideration, Bruce finally decided on what he thought were appropriate words. "From what I have read, they were remarkable people."

"No, Bruce. More than remarkable. There are millions of children who have lost their parents in tragic and unjust circumstances, but there is only one Batman."

"I'm sure if they had Bruce Wayne's money and means, there would be more."

Diana sighed, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to no doubt refute him, but something stayed her, caused her to swallow her words. When she next spoke, it was in a quiet voice. He had to lean in to hear her. "They created you, Bruce. That is reason enough for me to honor them and mourn their loss."

The wind caught the material of her chiton, wafting the gauzy white folds around her knees. Without her Wonder Woman uniform, Bruce thought she looked delicate, even breakable. Unshed tears made her eyes look like glass, and her face seemed equally fragile. He wanted so much to gather her into his arms, to comfort her as she had done so many times for him, but the instant their eyes met she turned around, once again facing his parents' tombstones.

He walked forward and took her hand in his. She instantly stiffened, but she made no move to extract her hand.

"Thank you," he said.

Even though he could not see it, he could feel the battle Diana fought within herself. Eventually her head dropped to his shoulder and after some time, she said, "Thank you for letting me be here."

This—his parent's gravesite—was supposed to be a place of inspiration and motivation, but for the life of him, Bruce could only care about the woman standing next to him, her hand warm in his. She was the reason he wanted, even needed, to be Batman again. As he stared at the slabs of granite on this, the anniversary of his parents' deaths, Bruce wondered if love was a greater motivator than vengeance.

There was only one way to find out.

"I'm patrolling tonight," he decided.

"I'm coming with you."

He gave her a brief nod, and together they walked out of the cemetery.

To be continued