Batman returned to the cave around 2 a.m. "Okay. Thanks, J'ohnn," he said before exiting the batmobile.

"Late night, sir?" Alfred greeted him.

"Alfred?" Bruce asked pulling back his cowl. "What are you doing still awake?"

"Miss Shayera has been pummeling the punching bags since you left for work this morning."

"She's still at it?" Bruce asked. "Did she take any breaks?"

"Only to hydrate, sir."

"Okay," Bruce sighed as he stared tiredly at one of the smaller screens where he could see Shayera destroying a punching bag. "I'll take care of this. You, go to bed."

"As you wish, sir." Alfred turned and left the cave. Bruce removed his bat-suit, mentally preparing for his conversation with the Thanagarian.


Shayera continued to slam her fists into the bag. One, two. One, two. One, two, she breathed through her combos. Around 3 a.m., she had come down to clear her head – silence the pesky voices in her mind. It wasn't working. She tried music and audiobooks. The voices of her father and mother refused to leave her alone. "Faster, Shayera," "Harder, Shayera," "Quicker Shayera." Her fist went through the punching bag's leather. Sand and sawdust poured out. "Damn it," Shayera swore in Thanagarian. She looked at the punching bag sadly. This was the 12th one she ruined today. She hoped Bruce wouldn't be upset. Grabbing the broom and dustpan Alfred had brought to her earlier, she began to clean up her mess…for the 12th time.

Sweeping the floor, Shayera allowed her mind to wander. Maybe I should run away, find another planet, and leave Earth for good. A pang went through her chest at the thought of leaving Earth…Bruce. Frowning, Shayera swept the trash into the dustpan. Her parents always told her emotions were unnecessary distractions. Her feelings for Bruce hadn't made life easier for her. If anything, they were a hindrance and an annoyance.

Emptying the dustpan, Shayera set the items back on the floor and grabbed another punching bag. Her feelings for Bruce weren't the only thing bothering her. Attaching the punching bag to the hook, Shayera couldn't help but admit that what Diana said had bugged her. The main reason being that what Diana said was true. I am no use without my wings, she thought as she began another round of punches. The more she punched, the angrier she became. "Stupid Diana," she muttered. "Stupid wings." Punch. "These stupid feelings." Punch. "My stupid parents." Punch. "I did this punch for humans punch and leaguers punch punch, and they don't punch appreciate it!" Punch! Punch! Punch! Punch! Crash! The punching bag flew off the hook, across the room, and into the mirror. Shayera flinched as a section of the wall mirror shattered to pieces. "Oops," she muttered.

"Can you please not destroy my gym?" Shayera started at Bruce's deep voice. She turned to see Bruce casually stroll in like he owned the place…which he did. Shayera tried not to look at what Bruce was wearing, but she failed. Her mind immediately took note of his sweats, his tank top. She quickly glanced at the well-defined muscles in his arms, his poignant blue eyes, and his silky hair that currently had no product in it. She wanted to run her fingers through it and bask in its softness. "Sorry," Shayera turned away as her stomach began to churn.

"Don't worry about it," Bruce gave her a smile that she didn't see, "Alfred will get to it."

"I can do it."

"Trust me, he'll be offended if you did." Shayera nodded as she looked around the room. She did look at Bruce as soon as she felt his eyes were no longer on her. "You've been busy," Bruce said as he eyed the pile of near-empty punching bags.

"S-Sorry about that," Shayera felt herself blush. She quickly went over to a nearby bench and began chugging her water.

"It's fine," Bruce smiled back at her, "I'll order more." Shayera remained silent as she began unbinding her hands – hands that she could no longer feel. "Alfred said you've been in here all day. You didn't take a single break."

"I used the bathroom once," Shayera mumbled.

"Doesn't count," Bruce watched her intently.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Shayera said.

"Where else would I be?" Bruce asked in amusement.

Shayera shrugged. "Prowling the roofs of Gotham," she answered.

Bruce gave her a smirk. "I don't prowl. And Jason and Tim are patrolling tonight. I had a meeting with another Thanagarian."

"That Carter guy?" Shayera asked as she began flexing her fingers, willing feeling back into them.

Bruce sat on the bench across from her. "Yes," he said. He frowned once he saw her bloody, swollen knuckles. "Were you trying to shatter the bones in your hand?" Bruce asked in annoyance as he walked to one of the freezers. He pulled out an ice pack and retrieved a cloth from the cabinet. He sat back down, holding the ice packs out toward her.

"I'll heal," Shayera said refusing to take them.

"That's great," Bruce said still holding the items out to her. "Ice your hands." They stared each other down in a battle of wills before Shayera caved and grabbed the ice pack. "Satisfied?" she asked.

"No," Bruce said, "But that's a start."

"My hands went numb hours ago, not sure what the ice will do."

"You know that pain is sometimes your body's way of telling you to stop, right?" Shayera shrugged, and Bruce sighed. He knew from experience, there was no reasoning with Shayera when she was in a sour mood. "J'ohnn has been talking to Chey-Ara."

"Why?" Shayera asked. "She's a low-level scout. She knows nothing."

"Thanagar is planning an attack on Earth."

Shayera froze. "What?" she asked, not sure she heard right.

"That is what Chey-Ara said."

"How would she know? She's only a low-level scout sent to find me."

"From what J'ohnn was able to pull from her mind, Thanagar is gearing up for another attack. She said the only reason we won was because we had you. Without you're wings…" Shayera stood up, dropped the ice bag and cloth on the floor, and began to pace. She needed time to process everything. After a moment, she asked, "You're saying they tore my wings from my body because they wanted me out of the way when they attacked Earth? I'm just one being, how is getting me out of the way helping them? It's not like I could take on the entire Thanagarian army by myself!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, they took your wings to punish you, but I don't think your punishment is over."

"Explain," Shayera demanded, staring down at Bruce, hands on her hips.

"From what I've heard from you and Chey-Ara, Thanagar looks down on anyone who shows compassion. And you showed A LOT of compassion when you chose Earth over Thanagar. In their eyes, you showed you loved Earth more than Thanagar. So, taking your wings…and then attacking Earth..."

"I can't fight back," Shayera turned away from Bruce as realization slowly set in. "I – I can't fly, s - so there's no way I can fight them."

"You watch from afar as Thanagar ravages the Earth – the thing you love most," Bruce finished softly.

Shayera turned to face Bruce once again. "On Thanagar, we are taught that Thanagar and Thanagarians should be our first love. But when I chose you over Thanagar, they – "she stopped speaking. "But why the Gordanians?"

"I think that was plan A. When Lobo failed to acquire you, they moved to plan B." Shayera bit her lip, deep in thought. Heartbreak and pain were evident on her face. "Shayera," Bruce stood up and walked to her. "What are you thinking?"

"What are you thinking?" Shayera threw back at him.

"I'm thinking, Thanagar wants a rematch." Shayera cocked her head at him. "Removing your wings was more than just a punishment. We have been focused on you and your wings…but Earth has been the target this entire time."

Shayera sat on the bench and hung her head in defeat. "So, even if you had handed me over, Earth would have still been invaded."

Bruce sat down next to her. "I should have never brought you to the Watchtower," he said Shayera snapped her head up and stared at Bruce shockingly. "Yes, I know," Bruce caught her eye with a smirk. "It's not every day I admit that I'm wrong in doing something."

"You never admit when you're wrong."

"How often am I wrong?" he asked with a smirk.

Shayera's breath caught in her throat as Bruce's bright blue eyes bore into her green ones. "Not often," Shayera said breathlessly.

"But I was wrong when I took you to the Watchtower that day," he said. Shayera saw a small, tiny, minute hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Then why did you?" she asked.

"Why didn't you fight me?" Bruce questioned with a slight smile.

"I asked you first," Shayera said. Bruce only stared at her with a raised brow, challenging her. Clearly, he was not going to answer first. Shayera looked down. "I figured I deserved whatever was coming."

"You didn't- "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know," Shayera interrupted. "When I saw Issi, I immediately knew what to expect. I was just so tired of running and hiding. I was tired of…living…I guess."

"I knew you'd be punished," Bruce admitted as he looked away from Shayera. "I'm not sure why…maybe, I didn't care…maybe, I knew I'd be outvoted."

"You knew my punishment would be brutal, and you didn't fight for me. You didn't care. You didn't know you'd be outvoted?" Shayera asked incredulously. "Since when have you ever listened when the majority wasn't in your favor? Your backup plans have backup plans. You wanted to hand me over because deep down you were still mad at me." Bruce stared blankly, trying to process what Shayera was saying. "I beat you," Shayera smirked, "I tricked you. I outmaneuvered Batman. You couldn't stand the humiliation. Deep down, you probably rejoiced when my wings were torn."

Bruce's eyes hardened. "How can you say that? After everything I've done to help you."

"Think about it," Shayera paced, "you felt guilty for wishing me ill. That's why you're helping me."

"Shayera, are you saying…what?" Bruce was trying to follow her logic. Then he frowned. She was behaving…strangely. "Shayera?" Bruce remained seated.

"That's why you're being so nice to me," Shayera whirled to face him. Bruce studied her eyes. They were glossier than usual, and the pupils were tiny. Constricted. Not good.

"Shayera," Bruce stood up slowly. "Why don't you sit here?"

"And that's what these feelings are," Shayera resumed her pacing. "I'm not…falling…for you. I'm-I'm feeling gratitude towards you." Bruce began stepping towards her. "What are you doing?" Shayera squinted.

"You're sweating profusely," Bruce explained. "Your body's exhausted." Shayera took a step back with a frown. "You need to sit."

"I need to get stronger."

"The wounds on your back may have closed, but your body is still adjusting to not having wings."

"Wings. Right. Why am I training? I don't have wings. I'm not a warrior! I'm not a soldier! I'm not anything!" Shayera gasped. She then tried to inhale deeply and coughed instead. Shayera tried to take another inhale…but nothing happened. Shayera gripped her chest as a sharp pain shot through it.

"Shayera!" Bruce rushed over to her. "What's wrong?"

Shayera couldn't answer. She kept gasping for air. Bruce didn't waste a second. He scooped her up into his arms and ran to the medical area. Laying her on the bed, he then ordered the computer to scan her.

Shayera's vision began to fade. Bruce sounded so far away. Her eyes finally closed as the last of her breath escaped her. Hands gently holding her jaw open, a warm mouth covering her own, and puffs of air being forced into her lungs were the last things Shayera's mind registered before she slipped into nothingness.