One: Birth

Bruce couldn't understand why Lois hadn't wanted to give birth on the Watchtower. He'd suggested it to Clark shortly after the Man of Steel had announced the exciting news to Bruce and Diana, and Clark had laughed. When Bruce just kept staring with his flat stare, Clark's laugh sputtered into a baffled cough then died.

"Oh, you're serious."

Diana had watched this all unfold with a small smile and no comments. Clark had backtracked frantically, saying he'd check with Lois and sure, he was certain J'onn and Leslie and all their League doctors would be circumspect and provide Lois with expert medical care in a safe environment.

Lois had shot down the idea after soaking the S on Clark's chest with a violent spit take of peppermint tea. "Oh for fuck's sake. I am NOT giving birth in space. I have no idea about the citizenship legalities of that, although..." Her eyes gleamed. "I could work something about that very question into my piece about the International Space Station."

And that's all either reporter had cared to say on the subject. Lois had elected to give birth in a private birthing center just outside of Metropolis. Bruce had bought it, beefed up the security, and reviewed the credentials of all the staff and been satisfied. Diana had informed him that he was being ridiculous; thankfully, Clark and Lois were still so enamored with their good news that neither had put their journalistic skills to good use and called him on it.

Now, several months later, Diana and Bruce sat in the waiting room of the Ferndale Birthing Center to wait for the good news. Lois and Clark had taken a suite, which is where their respective parents, Kara, and Lois's sister were waiting. Clark and Lois had both indicated that Bruce and Diana were welcome, that they were as good as family, but each begged off. Bruce hadn't planned on sitting around here waiting, but Diana had fielded a call from Kara saying Lois's medical team were pleased by her progress and that she would be ready to deliver very soon. Diana had subsequently transported herself into the Batcave in the middle of the day, nudged Bruce out of a doze in front of his massive computer, and ordered him to come with her in what Bruce deemed her "princess" voice.

Bruce might pretend otherwise, but he was helpless against the princess voice.

This private facility offered comfortable seating and refreshments for those waiting for good news. Bruce made himself comfortable, lounging in the chairs, baseball hat pulled low over his face, staring into what was fairly decent coffee. He noticed little ripples in the brown liquid and followed the source of that motion to Diana's foot, pumping her right leg slowly up and down.

Best not to linger too long on the actual leg but on its movement. The obvious conclusion surprised him.

"Nervous, Princess?"

She glanced at him; her eyes held centuries of memories.

Diana said, "There was a time not so long ago when most women died in childbirth. That was still often the case when I first came to the patriarch's world. My body remembers those days well, I suppose."

He wondered if she'd lost many friends to childbirth. Decided the answer was obvious, and so did not ask.

"There were no births on Themyscira, after your own, I suppose."

She shrugged. Her birth was a myth of its own. Sculpted from clay or born of the gods- Diana had spent many years thinking that particular truth mattered much more than it really did.

"We read extensively, as you know. I always knew it was dangerous for human women from the beginning."

Bruce pondered this. He watched ripples in his coffee for a second more before downing the remainder of it and setting the mug gently on the glass end table. "Do you need me to tell you that Lois will most likely be completely fine? That I've run extensive checks on every doctor, nurse practitioner, PA, RN, and ancillary staff member in this place and that even now, J'onn and Leslie are ready to transport here at a moment's notice?"

Her leg stopped its pumping as he spoke; he was even rewarded with the slow bloom of her smile.

"Well. I see it doesn't matter whether I need it or not, as you've already told me." Something perilously close to delight hid under her words. "And it does help," Diana allowed.

The silence then settled between them like a soft blanket, warm and comforting. She leaned toward him, her shoulder brushing his, and exhaled. It wasn't quite a sigh, but had the makings of one.

Bruce wiped his hands on his pants, trying to disguise the movement as he readjusted his position in the armchair. She might not be looking, but she always saw too much, much more than he intended to reveal.

Careful, he warned himself.

"I vowed never to have children," Bruce admitted. She turned to him, and oh, he felt her attention like a cold-blooded thing felt the sunlight. "Dick was a surprise. Jason-" It still hurt to say his name, so he hurried on. "And Tim, all surprises."

To his surprise, based on what he'd assumed about the shift in her mood, Diana offered him a breathtaking smile. Yes, like basking in the sun.

"You think of them as your own," she observed, clearly pleased. "Not as substitutions or pale facsimiles of biological reproduction. Too many, especially in today's world of advanced medicine, treat adoption as a kind of last resort when natural biology or medical assistance fail; they settle for it. And some treat adoption as an uncomplicated equivalent to biological parenthood, never truly considering what the impact on the child will be."

"Uncomplicated," Bruce scoffed. He hadn't spoken to Dick for several months; their relationship had never been uncomplicated, usually thanks to Bruce's own mistakes. And even still, he felt the pull toward his son, the desire to see him, the need to know Dick was safe, a throb in his chest with every heartbeat.

Diana continued on, passion building in her voice. "Adoption is beautiful, wonderful, but it's not a thing to reluctantly settle for or a thing without complexity."

Closer, Bruce told himself. To Diana, he said, "You've given this topic considerable thought."

Diana, too, seemed to be measuring her answers as carefully as a baker or a chemist. "Patriarch's world seems to believe that motherhood is the highest calling any woman could hope for."

Not a question, then. An observation.

"There are many who think that," Bruce agreed. "In many cultures across the planet, for thousands of years."

"What do you think?"

Now, a direct question. Careful, now. Wayne. Perhaps some delicacy... "It's bullshit, Diana."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. So much for delicacy.

"Well, you asked what I thought. It's bullshit. My mother's entire worth isn't in having given birth to me. She was so much more than that. If I had never been born, Martha Wayne would still have been a philanthropist who did immeasurable good in the world. Even if she never married my father, she would have done immeasurable good in the world. I'm not knocking being a wife and mother, but the pressure our society puts on women to find their worth in those roles and those roles only is-"

"Bullshit." Diana finished for him with a small smile. She covered his hand with her own. He looked at their hands and noticed that he was gripping the arm of his chair with white-knuckled hands. He let go slowly and rotated his wrist so that he could lace his fingers with Diana's, and he was surprised. He always expected her hands to be smooth as silk, beautiful and impenetrable like the face she presents to the world.

How ridiculous, he chided himself, feeling the lines of her fingers and palm; Diana has warrior's hands. Raised callouses from holding her sword pebble her hand, smoothed by time. Bruce held that hand and decided to be brave.

"What's on your mind, Diana?"

She'd be within her right to shoot him down; he dodged similar inquiries from her over and over when she tried to get closer, to offer him the empathy she gave so freely. But of course, she didn't.

"I'm not sure if I'm physically able to have children," Diana admitted, which did not surprise Bruce. She'd been alive and walking Patriarch's world for centuries, and she was no shrinking violet virgin. Then she said, "I'm not sure I would ever want to, if I could."

This did surprise him. Bruce finally looked up from their joined hands to meet her eyes. He expected sadness; he saw determination. When he was silent, she continued.

"My mission in Patriarch's world has to come first. And my life is too wild, too dangerous for a child. This planet is degrading faster than we can correct too many years of pollution, and every day, the birth of a new war balances on the edge of a knife. But the most important reason, Bruce? I don't really want to. I don't feel that pull that so many people, especially women, describe."

Bruce pondered her words. He imagined she'd heard all the rebuttals, either directly or indirectly from other women, so he didn't offer them. He felt certain, in his heart, that any child would be lucky to have Wonder Woman for their mother, but those children were hypothetical. The woman before him already lived and breathed.

"You give so much of yourself, so much love to so many people, Diana. It's okay, even good, to keep a little of that love for yourself."

She sighed, as if releasing a burden, and slumped a little in the chair so that she could rest her head on her shoulder.

"Kal didn't. He's in there right now, holding Lois's hand as she brings their child into the world."

Bruce scoffed but tried not to move too much and disturb her. "And probably cursing his name and swearing never to let him touch her again. Besides, Clark is different. He's always wanted to fit into this world and live a normal life with his family. He is Superman because he feels like he must be, like it would be irresponsible not to be. But part of him would be happy, I think, to be a human man with a simpler life."

To be heard and understood and accepted are heady things, so Diana smiled fully now, closing her eyes in contentment. "And me?"

Bruce wondered if perhaps Lois could hurry things up so he could escape this emotional conversation. The vulnerability made him itch, and yet... he also wondered if perhaps, Clark and Lois could take their sweet time and maybe no one would bother him and Diana for a while longer. He couldn't decide which he wanted more.

"You're like me," he said, sounding unhappy about it. Diana sat up, delighted.

"Oh really? I should be so lucky. Do tell me how so."

She was making fun of him, he was sure of it. And yet... he smirked.

"You're a workaholic, of course."

Diana laughed, comfortable with this assessment. "Perhaps." She squeezed his hand. "You and I share this trait and others, I believe. And a good thing too, because I have to imagine that whoever our little niece or nephew grows up to be, they will constantly be getting into trouble."

Bruce grinned; Diana felt her heart stutter a little. The expression was so rare on him as to be positively devastating. "Aunty Diana and Uncle Bruce to the rescue?"

"Of course," she said. "I like the sound of that."

XXX