World Without Wonder

By Josephine

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from this work.

Rating: Probably R by the time I’m done. Right now, PG. Depends on how this story comes out. Anyone out there besides me write these disclaimers and crap BEFORE writing the story?

Universe: Elseworlds.

Chapter 1: Finding Diana

"She needs to be taken out of power," Batman said. Superman continued his monitoring, not bothering to answer. Batman stared at his back, frustrated, angry. "She is using her strength unchecked, Clark. She has taken over seven warring countries now, demanding them to obey."

Clark finally turned away from Fortress’s giant television wall display, but Batman could tell that he was still listening to the broadcasts--thousands of them, perhaps tens of thousands at a time from around the world. "Has she killed anyone?" Superman said.

Batman tightened his jaw. Those simple words let him know that Clark wasn’t going to help. But Bruce kept trying anyway. "Not directly, not that I can prove."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Prove?"

"The heads of each nation have disappeared. We know that she has taken them, but whether they are alive or dead is anyone’s guess."

"What do you think?"

"Dead." Batman didn’t hesitate. "She has shown a desire for power, and in most cases, greed for power is not tempered by respect for human life. She wouldn’t want to take the risk that they remain alive and somehow fight back against her." No tyrant wanted his predecessors left alive. Life meant hope, and from what Batman had seen of the woman, she intended to squash hope, squash free will. "It is possible that she is keeping them alive for bargaining purposes, but considering her level of power, she doesn’t need live humans to bargain with. She can bargain with her fists."

Superman looked at his own hands. "Why me?"

"You are the only one left at her power level. If the rest of us tried, it would take a coordinated effort, but the risk is still too high, because we don’t know exactly of what she is capable. High casualties would be possible," Batman said. "And we can’t afford any more of those. You alone could subdue her, with tactical backup from the rest of us."

Superman was shaking his head. "I don’t think so, Bruce. From what I’ve heard on the newsfeeds, she hasn’t killed anyone. She fights armies without casualties, simply destroying their equipment. She demands that they obey, takes over the country by might, but that is what the previous leaders did. She is another military dictator, but except for declaring that they are not to make war upon one another, she has not changed nor wanted anything from them." He turned back to his monitors. "It is not my place to get involved."

"You used to involve yourself," Batman said. "You used to care that someone would use their metahuman powers to control others."

"I care," Superman said. "But it is not my responsibility. Accidents, natural disasters--those I can get involved in because there are no shades of gray. How do I know that this woman isn’t wrong? She has effectively stopped wars between seven nations. It is not my place to judge her actions, to decide what is truth and justice." He tilted his head. "There is a fire alarm in New York. You know the way home."

He was gone in a blast of wind, and Batman clenched his fists to keep from punching something. Superman’s fortress was cold, like his own cave, but well lit and filled with beautiful artifacts.

Too bad, Batman thought as he readied his jet, that its occupant no longer reflected the fortress.

***

He wasn’t going to endanger the others. They had gone through too much of late to lose more friends now, and Batman was determined not to fail, so they would not lose him, either.

He had analyzed the woman’s attack pattern -- Diana, she called herself -- and found an important flaw: whenever the opposition used gases, such as nerve or poisonous gases, she wore a mask. An invisible, tiny breathing mask. She seemed to have a remarkable ability to process poisons, and to heal quickly, but knowing that she was vulnerable to airborne attacks gave him an edge.

So did knowing where she retreated between takeovers.

He would never have known about the breathing mask until his computer had analyzed the air currents and patterns around her as she fought, and the computer had also allowed him to track her when she left. He knew that the governments of the world had failed at finding her hiding spot, because she had taken a different flight route each time, then disappeared suddenly off any radar. That signified some type of cloaking device, but Batman hadn’t been able to pin it down until he’d considered the idea that the cloak wasn’t technical in nature, but magical.

It hadn’t taken him long to, with Zatanna’s help, develop a device that sensed the woman’s specific signature, and incorporate that into his search.

And now he hovered over the island. He’d set the jet to stealth mode, so that it would be invisible visually and audibly. He checked the compartments in his belt methodically, examined the mechanism on the gas deploying grenade, then secured his parachute. He flipped the jet’s setting to remote control, and jumped out into the air.

His jet’s sensors hadn’t been able to get a topographical reading of the island -- it was hidden from any technological radar or laser scanning equipment -- but Batman was able to see the layout with his infrared glasses. Sandy beaches, forests, and gentle, sloping hills made up the southern end, whereas the northern end peaked with granite mountains, sudden cliffs and high grasslands. Even through the reddish tinge of the IR lenses, he could tell that the island was indescribably beautiful. As he drifted closer, he could make out the temples that dotted the island, the statues and courtyards. All, he noticed, run down and broken, as if they had been abandoned years before after a massive cataclysm. His IR lenses picked up some movement -- animal, he realized quickly, before he noticed a heat signature resembling a human form in one of the temples.

He landed a couple of hundred yards from it.

He dated the architecture from Greece at about 1000 B.C., but could see variations and differences that indicated modifications after the initial building period, as if the Greek style had been the base, and over the years new styles had been added as the older buildings deteriorated. The statues were all of women, and he recognized none of them; they, too, showed signs of some destructive event. The courtyard’s marble tiles were broken, grasses growing up through them, and moss had started to encroach on the marble temple and statue’s surfaces. He carefully stepped across the rubble, using the darkness as cover. He noted a large hole in the ceiling of the temple, carefully climbed the side of the building, crawled across the roof and looked down.

She kneeled in front of a large statue, dressed in a simple white toga, not the red, white and blue uniform that had had nations in uproar, blaming the United States, when she’d first appeared. Unlike the outside of the temple, the inside was carefully cleaned and restored. A basket of fruit lay as a sacrifice on an altar in front of the statue. He knew that statue was of the goddess Athena. A goddess of wisdom.

A goddess of war.

He adjusted a receiver on his cowl so that he could hear her, then had to bite back a curse when he realized she was speaking in Greek. He didn’t dare give the audio command for his computer to translate the language, considered typing it into his gauntlet keypad, then finally decided to get the job done quickly.

He brought the grenade launcher around quietly. He’d filled the canister with enough tranquilizer gas to knock even Superman out within seconds. He aimed, fired, and she disappeared between the time he squeezed the trigger and the canister exploded a foot from where she’d been kneeling.

"You thought that I would automatically block the grenade with my bracelets, and the gas would explode in my face," she said in English from behind him. Her voice was musical and slightly accented. It also betrayed amusement.

Batman considered his escape options. He didn’t see any that looked good, so he bided his time, turned to answer her, crouching on the roof of the temple. "Yes," he said. He had tiny gas canisters in his belt. Backup plan number one of thirty seven.

"You have studied my weaknesses, then?" She smiled, and in other circumstances he would have sworn it was genuine. But he was too familiar with the Joker and other villains who smiled as they doled out pain to put any faith in her expression.

She floated two yards from him, her toga and hair waving softly in the slight breeze. She was easily the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he wondered if she knew it, if she would try to use that against him. Wondered how much of her power, her beauty, was corrupted.

When he didn’t answer, she continued, "I have been wondering when I would be found out. I do not underestimate the resources of Patriarch’s World."

He noted her use of the term ‘Patriarch’s World’, searched his mind for Greek myths and stories that hinted at a matriarchal society, women warriors.

Amazons. He kept that information to himself, said, "You underestimate us if you think that we will sit by as you bring nation after nation under your rule."

Her smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "I do not intend to rule those nations. Just bring them out from under the thumb of war. I thought that I made that clear."

"To whom?"

"To the people of Patriarch’s World." She stepped onto the roof, sat down facing him, her legs folded under her. "I told them exactly that -- that they were not to continue their wars upon each other, and that I would destroy their capability to do so. Please do not attempt to use the items in your belt on me, Batman."

He didn’t betray his surprise that she had detected his sleight of hand. He’d pulled that trick on Superman successfully. "You know who I am."

She nodded. "I spent time in Patriarch’s World, researching."

"Researching what?"

She smiled again. "Everything I could."

By using the hyperbole ‘everything’, she allowed herself to keep from saying exactly what the bent of her studies had been, but he could guess. Languages, obviously, he thought. Probably studied him and other heroes as possible opposition to her mission. Politics, history, leaders. Weapons capabilities, technology.

He pretended to relax slightly, easing back from a crouch to a sit. She didn’t seem to have immediate plans to attack him, but wanted to talk, instead. Typical, he thought, of megalomaniacs, who were so enamoured of their mission or purpose that they eagerly tried to explain their viewpoint to anyone who would listen, would try to convince them they were right.

He would lull her into complacency by listening to her spout whatever rhetoric that she thought justified herself, then take her out with whatever means available. Backup plan number twenty eight of thirty seven.

"What of my weaknesses did you learn?" she asked.

"I’d be a fool to tell you," he said honestly. A fool, because he hadn’t found many. Let her worry and imagine that he knew more.

"Yes, you would." She looked at him carefully. "I watched you in Gotham. I saw you fight. You are better than I am."

"I’ve analyzed your fighting style. I’ve already ascertained that." How much had she seen in Gotham? Batman, or Bruce Wayne as well?

She nodded. "Of course you would have. I can be shot or stabbed; I’m not invulnerable like Superman."

He frowned. Why was she telling him this? "I know that, as well. I’ve seen the injuries from shrapnel that you couldn’t dodge or block with your bracelets."

"You obviously know of my susceptibility to gases and poisons. Although I do process the latter very quickly," she added.

And he suddenly knew why she was telling him her weaknesses -- it was because, considering her strengths, they were almost negligible. Though she was not as accomplished as he at fighting, she was one of the best he’d ever seen, and given her strength and speed that skill difference was not an advantage for him. She wasn’t invulnerable, but she had managed to fight against the best weapons technology and soldiers several nations had to offer without being seriously injured, and at the same time had not killed any of those she’d fought against. And she was aware of what he contained in his belt -- more gases. She probably had some kind of elevated senses, either sight, or smell or hearing. Maybe all three, which made sneaking up on her or secretly adding something to food or drink without detection unlikely.

She listed her small list of weaknesses, and he was aware--and so was she--that he didn’t know all of her powers. Just how strong was she?

"And I have to sleep," she said. "I suppose you could attack me then."

"Would it work?"

She tilted her head, looked at him through clear, blue eyes. "Perhaps. I have not been attacked in my sleep in years. My reflexes may be soft." She leaned back against the gently sloping look, staring up at the stars. The gesture was clear to Batman: I do not fear you, her posture said. "What would you have done with me, if you had managed to gas me?" she said curiously.

"The JLA has a containment unit for metahumans."

"Would I have been rehabilitated?" She grinned at that, as if it amused her. "Simply imprisoned for life?"

"There are tribunals in place to try, and if necessary, pass judgement on metahumans who overstep their bounds."

She rolled onto her side, propping up her head with her hand, her elbow against the roof. Her eyes bored into his. "Do you think that I have overstepped them? You are a vigilante yourself."

He remained silent. He was not as she was; he sought justice, not blind obeyance. But he could not figure her out, did not want to say something that would generate a violent reaction, so he didn’t argue.

She sighed when he didn’t answer, pushed herself up onto her feet, gazing out over the island, her expression a mixture of sadness and hope. His leg swung out, caught her behind her knee and she fell backwards before she could catch herself. She looked at him in surprise, began laughing. Then the tranquilizer from the tiny dart attached to his boot flooded her system, and she passed out.

Backup plan number two of thirty seven.

***

"Weakness number one," she said wearily, "Arrogance." She looked through the glass at Batman, and attempted a sneer. "Your weakness, too. If that dart had not been successful, I could have torn you apart."

"You wouldn’t have." His voice was confident.

She admired his certainty, his instinct. They were valuable in a warrior. She hid her admiration, forced a half-hearted glare. "I could have processed the poison quickly, woken while you were flying me here."

"You started to. I had the jet monitor your vitals, administer another dose when you showed signs of waking." Batman paused. "You’ve released the heads of state."

"I sent the signal when I realized what you had done," Diana said. "I do not want them to starve in my absence."

Batman frowned. "To whom did you send the signal? How?"

"To ‘what’, not ‘whom’, Batman." Diana turned over in the narrow cot, her back to the man in the dark cape and cowl. "I do not choose to answer more questions," she said.

***

She was planning something. He had the feeling he had played directly into her hands, somehow, even down to being captured and taken to the Watchtower hold.

He also had the feeling that everything that she had told him was the truth. Yet how much more truth was she withholding from him?

Superman was in the Watchtower’s monitor room, watching Diana onscreen.

"To what do we owe this honor, Superman?" Batman couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

It was lost on Clark, who nodded at the screen. "I wanted to see her in person."

Batman looked at Diana, tried to see her as Superman might: her strength, her incredible beauty, her intelligence. Under other circumstances--if Clark hadn’t retreated into solitude and Diana wasn’t walking on the side of the devils--they would have seemed like the perfect match. His perfection against hers.

"I used to imagine someone like her, once," Clark said thoughtfully. "Someone as strong as I, with the same responsibilities, who would understand me. It’s one of the reasons I--"

He didn’t continue, but Batman could fill in the silence. It was one of the reasons Superman hadn’t committed himself to Lois--that hope of a woman like him existing somewhere in the world.

Clark shook himself. "Nothing might have come of it, anyway." He looked at the woman onscreen again. "We might have just been friends. But at least I would have known."

"You wouldn’t be friends with this one, Clark. She’s not on our side." He watched as Diana stood up from her cot, ran her hands over the magnetically sealed walls, looking for a way out. He felt as well as saw the force of the massive punch she used to try to overwhelm the seals, but they held, absorbing the impact. "It was too easy to capture her. She released those leaders immediately--although I’m not sure how. It’s as if taking over those countries was just a preliminary, a distraction for her real plan." He looked at Superman, knew he shouldn’t bother asking, but tried anyway. "I’m going back to her island to look for clues. Care to join me?"

He saw the flash of interest in Superman’s eyes before they dulled, and the former leader of the JLA said, "No. I need to stay online. There’s a volcano warning in effect in--"

"I know," Batman interrupted. He decided not to press the issue; Superman’s presence, his curiosity about Diana was more emotion than he’d shown in over a year.

Batman would take his victories where he could get them.

***

It took him no effort to track down the island, although it wasn’t where he had left it. The invisible, unbreakable dome surrounding it was new, though.

He returned to the Watchtower when he realized he would have no access through it.

Diana was running through a series of exercises, some he recognized, some he decided were modifications of ancient martial arts.

"You must have found the dome, if your frustrated expression is any indication," she said as she moved gracefully through the form.

He knew his face had betrayed nothing of his thoughts; either she had anticipated his returning to the island and somehow knew that he had been there, or she was taking a guess.

He instinctively felt it was the former. "This was never about those nations, was it? What are you planning, Diana?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, never hesitating in her slow movements. "You are wrong. Those nations are important to me. My intentions there were to stop the wars, to give people something to focus on fighting besides each other. They turned their guns away from their neighbors and pointed them at me, worked to fight me." She came to the end of a form, stopped and turned to look at him. "And on the island, I gave the leaders the same opportunity. They focused on helping each other, trying to escape rather than on hating each other."

"You expected this to be a solution?" Batman shook his head incredulously.

Diana chuckled. "Of course not. I am not that naive. But I had hoped that it would give them a model to work from--to work together from. Perhaps in a few more months they would have had more camaraderie than hate to remember each other by. And in the meantime I removed some of their weapons capabilities."

"To what end?" Batman pressed. "So that they would not have the ability to resist you in the future?’

She laughed, and he found himself for a moment wanting to believe in that laugh, believe that it was good hearted and not bent on tyranny. "They did not have that ability to resist me, as you put it, when they had their weapons. I just thought that they were resorting to fighting, rather than negotiating, too quickly. And in some cases, the fighting had been going on so long that negotiation was no longer an option. And my ‘end’ was to stop wars. I have my reasons to want peace." She paused, eyed him carefully. "You are determined to make a villain out of me, Batman. Why?"

"You expected to be treated as a villain," he returned. "Why?"

"I knew that what I was doing was unpopular with the JLA and the world." She took a step toward the glass that separated them, the force field that protected the glass. "And when one of the JLA sneaks onto my island uninvited with a gas grenade launcher, I can assume that he was not there as a recruiter."

"Your methods would never be accepted in the JLA, Diana."

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Even though my ideals are admirable? I know that. And under different circumstances, I would have approached the JLA, asked them for guidance, asked to be made one of you, followed your rules."

"What circumstances?"

She looked away from him. "I have a mission more important than peace, Batman. One that the JLA will fight me for, should they realize my intentions. Had I come to you before, you would have all been my friends." She took a deep breath. "So it has to be this way. I will never betray a friend."

"But you will an enemy?" He took a step forward, said fiercely, "I will find out what you are planning, Diana. And I--the JLA--will stop you."

"You can try, but you will not, Batman," she said as he strode away.

***

He analyzed the marble chips that had become imbedded in the soles of his boots, the grass, the dirt of her island. The energy signature residue made him come to one conclusion: Darkseid had been on her island. But had he been friend to Diana, or foe? Was her plan something she had created in league with the dark god, or in retaliation for something, or wholly unrelated to Darkseid’s presence?

He leaned back in his chair, stared up at the cave’s ceiling as if he could find an answer in its heights.

Beside him, Alfred set a platter down with a flourish. "Simple fare tonight, Master Bruce. Roast duck with butter cream, filet mignon, and chocolate pudding."

Bruce looked down at the plate, saw the bowl of oatmeal. "Thank you, Alfred," he said.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "If I had known a food shortage was what it took for you to say ‘thank you’ for oatmeal instead of one of your long-suffering stares, I would have arranged one long ago, Master Bruce."

"It’s not my favorite, Alfred," Bruce acknowledged, and took a small bite. "But you manage to make it taste amazingly good." And it did.

Alfred sniffed. "But of course. Despite your generous donation of the Manor’s food stores to the citizens of Gotham, I managed to hold on to a few basic spices. Scarcity does not have to taste bad, Master Bruce."

Bruce focused on the gentleman’s gentleman. Alfred was doing his best--which was splendidly--considering their circumstances, but Bruce couldn’t miss the slight weight loss, the tiredness around Alfred’s eyes. "Just make sure that you have enough, Alfred."

Alfred nodded once, and Bruce reminded himself to eat with his butler more often, to be certain that the older man followed his instructions. Bruce knew Alfred would forego his own meal to feed him.

"I manage, sir."

Bruce stared back up at the monitor, at the results of the material tests from the island. "I find that I have become a counselor, of sorts, for metahumans, Alfred."

"Indeed, sir?"

"Superman, as you know, retreated from any politically charged arena after the war. Now he only responds to accidents, natural or otherwise. Not much else." Bruce paused, Alfred waited. "But today, he actually came to the Watchtower to see the woman we’ve captured--Diana, who was fashioning herself as the next Napoleon in the Middle East and Eastern Europe." He scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "It’s the first bit of anything that I’ve seen in him in months. I tried to prod him into following up at her island with me, but he didn’t go."

"Still, the curiosity was something, sir."

"Exactly, Alfred. And now I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to interest him again."

"Perhaps using this woman?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don’t know. Diana is another problem. She’s...On one hand, I think that she would lay down her life to save one person, but on the other, I am afraid she might be willing to sacrifice the world for her own goals. And I have no idea what those goals are."

"And again your role as counselor came up, Master Bruce? Did you attempt to sway her to your side, as it may be?"

"No." Although he would give just about anything, he thought, to have someone like her on ‘his side’. Since the war, the world had been hungry for superheroes, but so many had died, and Superman had withdrawn...and now Diana had shown up like a gleaming star, only to destroy and demand. For what purpose, though? What would she have betrayed them for, if she had become a friend rather than an enemy? He sat up straighter, looked at Alfred. "What do you think it would take to befriend an Amazon, Alfred?"

Alfred blinked. "For you, sir?"

"Yes." Bruce stood, paced. "She said that she wouldn’t betray a friend; and for some reason, I believe her. She’s been nothing but honest. What if I, somehow, became that friend?"

Alfred coughed delicately. "It might be easier for another member of the JLA to attempt that, sir. Perhaps one of the women, if this is an Amazon. She might respond to someone who approached her as a sister."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, amused. "Are you saying that you think I can not make a friend, Alfred?"

The corners of Alfred’s mouth tightened, as though he was fighting a smile. "Not at all, Master Bruce. Since the war, you’ve shown yourself in both your public and private personas to be more approachable, especially as leader of the JLA and the new defender of truth, justice and--"

"It’s not a role that I particularly like, Alfred. But it is a necessary one," Bruce interrupted.

"Of course, sir," Alfred said soberly, but his eyes sparkled with humor. "But as I was saying, your kinder, gentler personality--" he ignored Bruce’s glare "--lends itself very well to friend making. Even with Amazons. But a woman might be better suited to the task. Or anyone else in the JLA," he added. "Because your personality is still not warmth and light."

"Nor should it be, Alfred. A laughing, happy Bat is a dead Bat."

"I’ll have that line stitched into your uniform, sir."

"Do that," Bruce said absently. He switched the monitor screen to show the feed from the Watchtower, where Diana was sitting on her floor, stretching. "I can’t let someone else try this, Alfred. I trust them, but she..." She turned suddenly, looked directly at the camera. He knew she couldn’t see him, but it was as if she knew he was watching. "...she’s dangerous. Not just her strength and her powers--of which we know entirely too little--but she’s intelligent, beautiful...she makes you want to trust her. She makes you want to smile and laugh."

"A dangerous idea, indeed, Master Bruce."

"It is when you know she’s on a mission, Alfred. A mission that she’ll carry out, whether you are smiling or not."

"If I may say so, Master Bruce, then perhaps you are the best person to befriend her, after all."

"Why is that, Alfred?"

"Because if there is one thing that you understand, sir, it is someone with a mission. A mission that must be fulfilled, no matter the personal sacrifice, or the sacrifice of those closest to you."

Bruce nodded. "And that is what I will appeal to with her," he said.

Alfred said, "I do not envy you the task, sir." Onscreen, Diana looked at them, her eyes wide and clear of calculations, betrayal and death. "Then again, maybe I do," he said with a tiny smile, standing up--impossibly, it seemed--a little straighter.

Bruce took another bite of oatmeal, and planned.

***

He entered the room, put up a privacy screen. Her body was relaxed, but her eyes watched his every move. He set the tray of food down on the table, slid it toward her, then sat in the chair opposite hers.

"Two of the nations have signed peace treaties, Diana," he said.

Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners in a tiny smile, but otherwise her face remained expressionless.

"Your trial is set for a month from now. Your representation will arrive within a day or two, so that you can prepare your defense."

"I do not require representation, Batman."

"You intend to be gone, to have carried out your mission, before then?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes."

"How do you intend to escape?"

A short burst of laughter from her. "Be serious, Batman," she said with real humor.

He leaned forward. "I am." His voice was gravelly. "You tell me your weaknesses, that you plan to escape though you don’t give details, that you have a mission to fulfill. I am beginning to believe that you tell these things because you want the JLA to find a way to stop you. Otherwise, why the honesty? It does not serve you."

"It does not hurt me either. And I do not want to be stopped, despite what you interpret from my actions." She tilted her head, added curiously, "Why are you in here without protection?"

"Why aren’t you attacking me, trying to use this opportunity to escape?" he countered. She didn’t answer, and he knew they were at an impasse -- unless he gave in. "I am not unprotected, Diana. I am being monitored, and should my vitals change significantly, this chamber will be flooded with gas. I can also activate that safeguard manually. And I am not without my own resources."

"Like a tranquilizer in your boot."

"To start," he said.

She frowned thoughtfully. "But you know that I could kill you before you had a chance to react. So again, the questions begs itself, why are you in here without protection?"

His voice was soft, confident. "Because I don’t think you would hurt or kill me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I could prove you wrong now, but that sort of intimidation is your style, not mine. But do not be fooled, Batman, I have killed before, and I will again. I will again," she repeated, almost as a prayer, and Bruce locked onto the words, even as he realized she was closing herself off from him, wanted him to leave.

He stood, and she pushed the tray of food back to him. "I do not eat as often as most humans. Please give this to someone who needs it more." She hesitated, then added, "I have also arranged for a delivery of food from the island. Since I can not oversee its distribution, can I trust you to take care of it?"

"Yes," he said, disbelieving that she threatened him one minute, offered charity the next. "Where?"

"It will be delivered to Gotham harbor, if that is convenient. And one next week in Morocco."

He nodded, keyed the security pad, and left.

***

The food was delivered on an invisible barge. Not completely invisible, Bruce realized; he could see the faint outlines of it when the sun’s rays struck it correctly. Probably the same material as the dome which protected her island. He wondered how much of it existed, and how she controlled it. Did she have help on the island, or elsewhere? Did she control it telepathically? To what extent did it morph? What powered it?

"The initial scans indicate that it is clean, Bruce," Oracle said from the tiny receiver in his ear. "She’s got oranges," she added.

Bruce smiled at Barbara’s reverent tone. Citrus had become as scarce as meat and dairy. "I’ll save you one. Do you have the trucking schedule set up?"

"Mmm hmm. These babies are on their way across North America in twenty four hours. I had to hire more, since there is a lot more here than we expected."

"Yes, there is," Bruce said thoughtfully. How much did that island produce?

***

"It is gifted by Demeter herself to be eternally and constantly abundant," Diana said. "I’ve been continually shipping out the crop, but I’m afraid it hardly makes a dent in the problem."

"I had wondered where some of the produce coming in now and again was from." Bruce watched as she peeled an orange with barely concealed hunger. She had been lying, he realized instinctively, when she said she didn’t need to eat as often as a normal human. No, he thought, she hadn’t lied--exactly. She had said that she didn’t eat as often, not that she didn’t need to eat as often. And perhaps, given her strength, she didn’t feel the effects of hunger as strongly as normal humans. "I had assumed that the supplier was making a killing in profits from their crop, and I had tried to discover who they were so that I could...persuade them to provide their goods more cheaply, but all the time it had been for free." He paused. "When you are gone, fulfilling your mission, will someone take over your food supply?"

She froze with an orange section halfway to her mouth, lowered it. "There is no one to do so," she said slowly.

"Will you return?" he pressed, realized he had gained an advantage.

"I don’t know."

"You think you may die," he said flatly.

"Yes." She met his gaze, her eyes unafraid, direct.

He ignored the clenching in his gut at the thought, said, "People have come to depend on that supply, Diana."

He saw her waver, then the resolution form in her eyes. "I can show you."

It wasn’t the answer he had hoped for, but it was a start.

***

She dug her toes into the sand, closing her eyes, feeling the sun and the perfumed breeze across her face, the scent a mixture of ocean and Themyscira. Gods, she missed her home, and she’d been away only a few days. It was always like this: she wouldn’t realize how much she yearned for the island until she returned to it. And now that this might be one of the last times she returned to it, that yearning hit her harder than before.

No, she said to herself, I will not fail. I will return.

She turned to Batman, who was gathering a sample of sand. And when I return, I will face whatever consequences seem fitting.

She realized that he probably thought her being on the island would make her less likely to go, that being around familiar things would make her hesitate, would change her mind. He couldn’t know that the island only strengthened her resolve: the beaches, the temples falling into rubble, the pristine forests. The island was made for the Amazons, and it had been taken from all of them.

Except for Diana.

Batman clicked a compartment on his belt shut, looked up at her. "Alright, Diana, let’s go to your orchards."

It took only a moment for an invisible chariot to arrive, floating toward them, horseless and wheelless. She stepped aboard, and motioned for him to do the same. "I control this technology by telepathy. It can morph into nearly any shape that I choose." She paused. "Or whatever shape you choose, once I have transferred control of it to you."

Batman got on, his expression displaying barely concealed distaste. "Can this be done without use of this...device?"

"Yes, but it would hardly be as efficient." Diana glanced at him, wondering how much to add. There was a chance that she would return with other Amazons, and they would want to re-inhabit the island. She finally said, "And I prefer that it be done this way. I do not like the idea of the island being surrounded by barges and the produce picked by strangers."

"It could provide badly needed employment," Batman pointed out.

"It is my island, Batman," she said sharply. She hated that he was right, that she sounded unreasonable and uncaring. "I say it must be done with the Lansinarian technology. If it is the idea of being connected telepathically to it that bothers you, then say so and I will find another to harvest the orchards."

He drew his lips into a thin line. "You might be, by your own admission, dead. What do you care of the island?"

A ghost of a smile hovered over her mouth. "I do not intend to die, Batman. I’ve just said that it is a possibility." She stopped the chariot suddenly, floating a couple of hundred yards above a small building. "If you will excuse me, I am going to change my clothing."

She jumped over the side, leaving him staring after her.

***

Lansinarian technology.

Amazons.

Darkseid.

An island that she wanted kept free of outsiders, and island that had obviously been under attack a decade or so previously.

A secret mission, of which she thought the JLA would disapprove and try to stop her.

An obvious desire to help Earth, but she hadn’t been around months ago when the war had been taking the lives of heroes left and right. She had only shown up afterwards.

Where had she been? Was it the war that had given her reason to show herself, or had something happened afterwards that had prompted her actions?

He tried to get a scraping of the invisible chariot’s material, but it flowed and changed under his small knife. Who were the Lansinarians? Were they in league with Diana, or was this stolen from them?

He didn’t want it connected to him telepathically, he was sure of that.

She returned within minutes to the chariot, dressed in the uniform that she had worn when taking over governments, fighting their armies: the knee high red boots, the star-spangled briefs and red bustier.

"Why do you wear American colors?"

She attached a coil of golden rope to her belt; he had seen her use the rope before, as a lasso, and wondered about it as a choice of weapon. "They are also, I suppose, French colors," she smiled.

"The star pattern?"

Her smile faded, and she turned to face the front of the chariot as they started moving again. She firmed her lips, glancing at him as if undecided about something, then spoke.

"I do not know why I would tell you this..." She tilted her head, gave him a considering look. "But I suppose I should tell someone, just in case I do not return. There is no reason for Amazons to fade completely from human memory, and this tale connects them to the rest of the world, albeit briefly." She pointed to one of the temples in the distance. "That used to be the site of a doorway to another dimension filled with the monsters of Tartarus. Long ago, my mother and the rest of the Themyscirian Amazons were put in charge of guarding it, to ensure that nothing broke free into this realm." She crossed her arms, her eyes took on a faraway look. "During a war on Man’s World--the one you call World War II--an American female pilot crashed on Themyscira, at the very time that the doorway the Amazons guarded broke. She inadvertently saved us all, dying in the process. Her name was Diana Trevor." She stopped her recitation. They had reached the orchards, and the chariot glided softly to the ground.

"You were named for her?" Batman said, observing the bustling orchards, the invisible pickers that gathered and arranged the fruit. He had to admit that her Lansinarian technology was much faster than humans or harvesting machines could currently work.

"Yes. And the Amazons, out of respect for her sacrifice, made her symbol our own, incorporating the flag design into the armor of the Amazon champion."

"You."

Diana shook her head. "Perhaps that is what would have happened. I am a special child, created from clay by my mother and gifted by the gods. Perhaps I would have become the champion if things had gone differently." She drifted slowly off the ground, picking two peaches, tossing one to him. "As it is, I am the champion by default. I am the only Amazon left."

He caught it, feeling the warmth of the sun-ripened fruit through his glove. He tucked it inside a cape pocket; Alfred would enjoy it. "What would have to be changed, for things to go differently? What happened to the others?"

"War," she said. She gave him a wry glance, but her blue eyes were tired, sad. "It is what brought you here to my island today, Batman. It is what will take me from it, perhaps forever. And it is why I tried to stop those countries from making war on one another, believe it or not."

"Do you intend to make war on someone, Diana?" Was that her mission?

A small, weary laugh escaped her, rolling between the fragrant trees. "No, I intend to put an end to one." She sighed, and added softly, "Finally, an end to one that started years ago."

***

He hadn’t been able to get anything more out of her; instead, she had focused on the crop, explaining the rotation, the irrigation, the harvesting. He had recorded the information, half his mind occupied with the questions burning on the tip of his tongue--questions aroused by her story.

"What do you know of Amazons, Alfred?"

"Not much more than you would find in your databases, sir." Alfred nodded toward the screen Bruce had pulled up, a compilation of quotes, stories and references from ancient texts.

"They mention a race of warrior women, who were defeated by Hercules," Bruce said. He leaned forward, tapped on a few more keys. "Several other cultures have similar references, but nothing concrete. They primarily indicate that the Amazons were men-hating, war-mongering women who did not tolerate the presence of outsiders."

"Does that fit the description of Diana, sir?"

Bruce frowned. "I would have said yes, at one time. But I’ve seen no indication that Diana hates men, or anyone else, except whomever she has her ‘mission’ against. She is of a warrior class, of that I have no doubt--yet I would not hesitate to say that she has had diplomatic training. Or that she is a member of an aristocracy."

"Did she say when the Amazons disappeared from the island, sir? Or where she was during our own war?"

"No," Bruce said, his frown deepening. This was another point that rubbed a raw nerve for him--where had she been? Her Lansinarian technology, her own powers would have been an enormous asset to Earth when it had been attacked. He knew that although she obviously despised war, she wasn’t averse to joining a battle when she saw the need. Why hadn’t Earth’s dilemma inspired some action on her part? Did she care so little, or had there been other circumstances that prevented her from helping? She would have had to have been in another galaxy not to know that Earth was under attack--

He straightened suddenly, as a memory suddenly surfaced, as a connection was made. "Computer, access file Kyle Rayner, deceased." He fought the tightening of his throat at the last word, continued, "Search file, journal, Green Lantern Corps for references to Amazon, Diana, or female matching description." The computer immediately found several references, and Bruce began playing the first.

Kyle’s visage came up onscreen, young, alive. A tiny smile pushed up the corners of Bruce’s mouth as Kyle described a woman into the recorder he had used on his journey through the galaxy.

Bruce stopped the playback, added an additional instruction to search for the name Wonder Woman. The next file referencing the woman was much shorter:

The next record showed a tired and soot covered Kyle.

"Darkseid," Bruce muttered, and played the next recording.

***

"You are Wonder Woman," he said casually.

She blinked rapidly, and Batman thought for a moment that she would deny it. But she finally said, "That is what they called me, in various languages."

"Green Lantern mentioned you when he returned from his recruitment drive."

Diana’s face softened. "I remember him. We spoke on various occasions. He offered me a position in the Green Lantern Corps, but I refused him."

"You told him that as tempting as it was, that much power should not belong in the hands of someone seeking death." She was sitting on the bed, so he grabbed a chair, turned it around, straddled it. He intended to be here awhile, getting answers, one way or another.

He was trying the friendly approach first.

"Whose death are you seeking? Your own, or Darkseid’s? Or both?" She didn’t answer, so he added cruelly, "Green Lantern is dead. He was killed in the war."

"By an Imperiex probe, I know," she said, voice soft. "I saw the news footage afterwards. I heard about the war...but I got back to Earth, too late."

"Did you come back for Earth, or for Darkseid, Diana?"

Her eyes flashed fire at him. "For Earth, of course. But you had already won, had already destroyed Imperiex, driven Darkseid and his accursed planet back." Her expression gentled. "And at great cost to yourselves, for which I am sorry."

"Tell me, Diana," he urged, sensing a tiny break in her resolve, caused by regret. He used it. "Tell me what you were searching for, all those years in space."

She stood, turning away from him to stare out the window into the corridor. She held herself rigidly, her hair brushing the small of her back, vibrant and wavy, in direct opposition to her taut form and posture. He could see her pensive reflection in the glass. "You obviously already know that I was searching for Apokolips. For Darkseid." She sighed, rubbed her arms as if she were cold. "I won’t question how you know that; I knew you were a formidable opponent from the start." A slight smile crossed her features, but it quickly faded. "I was ten when a new race of Amazons was transported by Circe to Themyscira. They were descendants of my mother’s sister, Antiope, who had left three thousand years ago to revenge herself on Herakles for what they did to the Amazons. They called themselves the Bana-Mighdall, and there were tensions between the two groups from the start--on which Circe undoubtedly had planned. Civil war broke out between the two groups." She turned to Bruce, fingering her lasso as if she found comfort in it, or as if the inactivity of the containment cell burned within her. "Perhaps we would have been strong enough to withstand Darkseid, if there hadn’t been that civil war. I don’t know." She closed her eyes, continued. "We had forged a tentative peace, had been working at it for about three years when he appeared through his boom tube with his army. My mother--" Diana swallowed with difficulty "--she let me fight at first, but when it became apparent that the Amazons would be overwhelmed, she hid me, told me that war was not for a child. Not even an Amazon child." She smiled a little at that. "I would have fought to the death alongside my sisters, my mother. It is the Amazon way; but mother--she loved me," she said finally, by way of explanation. "I was a gift from the gods to her. She told me that I would avenge them when I was older, and she hid me."

Bruce thought of his mother and father, protecting each other and him that night in the alley. He nodded.

"Of course, she had to tie me with this--" she rubbed her fingers over the lasso again. "And when I finally struggled free, made my way out into the open, they were all gone, and there was nothing left to fight. I could see some of the ashes where Darkseid’s beams had obliterated their bodies, and the others I gathered up as best I could and gave them a proper burial."

"And you promised yourself that you would find Darkseid, kill him."

"Of course I did." Diana took a step forward, leaned in close to his face. "It is not unlike what you did, is it, Bruce?"

He fought the urge to jump up, to deny the name. Instead he calmly said, as if the name had no effect or meaning to him, "Batman. And no, I never trained myself with the intent to kill. I never want to be what I despise."

"And you despise me? Good," she said without waiting for him to answer. "Then you will not question yourself and your judgement when I leave here, and do exactly as I swore I would, fifteen years ago. You will not be betrayed."

"You realize that if you do leave here, and make war upon Darkseid, he may retaliate on Earth?" Bruce felt the anger rise in him at the thought. "Would you be so selfish in your quest for revenge?"

"Yes," Diana hissed. She leaned in closer until he could feel her breath across the bottom half of his face, the heat of her body. "Because, Bruce, the news footage revealed something to me besides Green Lantern’s death. It showed Apokolips as well. And on Apokolips, in chains, were several hundred Amazons." She pulled back, went back to the window. "So you see, I have no choice. I did not know until several months ago that some had survived, and were in slavery on his planet. But now that I know, I have far more than revenge to fight for. I have to fight for their freedom." She touched the window, and he heard the buzz of the containment field burning against her skin. "And I am going to kill Darkseid on my way out. Or die trying."

***

"So she has revealed her intentions, but you still have no idea how she will carry out her plan?" Superman said.

Batman shook his head. "I am positive that being held in the Watchtower was part of the plan, though. I captured her far too easily, and it was almost as if she expected to be captured."

"Perhaps she knows that you have Lantern’s ring, and is looking for a way to take it from you, to use it."

Bruce considered that. "I had thought that, too, until I viewed Kyle’s recordings and realized that she had refused his offer. Though, perhaps, upon realizing that her family is being held in slavery she has changed her priorities and her opinion about the power in the ring, and who should wield it. She might covet it to fight Darkseid."

"Or simply to get to Apokolips. It sounds as if she traveled over space looking for the right solar system, even though it is not reachable by conventional methods. A boom tube must be used. Or the ring. Maybe she realized that, and is counting on the ring to provide her transportation."

"Perhaps," Bruce said. He thought that over, and the more he considered it, the more likely it seemed. "All she needs, really, is access to Apokolips. She intends to relinquish control of her telepathic technology to me, so it doesn’t fit that she would use Kyle’s ring to help her fight--that technology is almost as powerful and just as effective as the ring’s constructs would be. And it fits that as an Amazon, she will try to fight him, hand to hand."

"She’ll lose," Clark said, and added without a trace of arrogance, "Even I barely held my own against him."

"I know," Bruce said. He hated the idea of Diana fighting Darkseid, on every level. The danger to herself, to Earth--it was too risky. "If it was just a matter of freeing her sisters, the JLA could support some kind of discreet operation on Apokolips. But we can not condone her attempt to kill him, no matter how evil he is. And that is her intention, I do not doubt at all."

"Perhaps she can be dissuaded, if she is offered help to free them?" Superman said thoughtfully.

Bruce turned away, so that Superman would not see Batman’s involuntary grin at the Kryptonian’s interest. "I don’t know," he said. "She has made herself clear that she would betray us, which is why she set herself up as an enemy to the JLA in the first place. I have been trying to insinuate myself as a friend to her, but I would not be surprised if she knew what I was doing. When she opens up to me, I can not tell if it is calculated on her part to win my trust, or if she is simply so truthful that she can not keep hiding her innermost thoughts for long." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "That is why, I imagine, that she did not mention the slaves on Apokolips. She would have known that we would have offered to help free them, and that would make her indebted--in essence made us a friend--to the JLA. And she would have known that we would only help with the stipulation that she not kill anyone. Does revenge mean so much to her?" He muttered the last.

"It may be a matter of honor, Batman. Perhaps she feels that she would not be welcomed back into Amazon society if she freed them, but did not kill their captor. If the Amazons had been enslaved before by Hercules, it may be more than honor -- it might be her duty in her culture to have revenge upon the enslaver."

Batman nodded, then hesitated, and finally said, "There is another problem. She knows who I am."

Clark frowned. "How?"

"She mentioned that she researched the heroes on Earth before beginning her campaign, including me. I know that she saw me fight as Batman--she might have followed me, listened long enough to discover Bruce Wayne."

"Will she use it against you to get what she wants?"

"If she is backed into a corner--I think so. She wanted me to know that she knew for a reason--probably as some kind of hold over me," Bruce said. But what Diana didn’t know, he thought, is that he would risk his identity to keep one being--even Darkseid--alive. He’d risk it to keep her from courting certain death.

He’d risk it all, if it came to that.

***

"Diana, we need your help," Batman announced. He watched her blink twice as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness in the cell. "Superman is elsewhere trying to evacuate an island--volcanic eruption. We need brute strength, and we need it fast." He turned and walked away down the corridor, and it was only seconds until he heard her footsteps behind him, then silence as she flew toward him instead of trying to catch up with him on foot.

"What is it?"

They entered the control room, and the others looked at her warily. Batman ignored them, drew her attention to the monitor. "A portion of a destroyed Imperiex probe. They are cloaked against radio and energy scans, even while deactivated, so we didn’t pick it up until we had a visual, and it is too massive for our defense mechanisms to have a significant impact in time."

"In time?" she echoed.

"It’s on target to San Francisco."

She looked at him, said the words he’d hoped for. "Where do you want me to send it?"

"The sun."

She nodded. "I’ll need an oxygen mask." Flash handed her one almost before she’d finished speaking. She strapped it on, checked the valves on the tank.

Batman escorted her to the airlock, watched on the monitor as she depressurized, then flew out into the emptiness of space.

***

"It seems like it was a dangerous stunt, Master Bruce."

"It was, Alfred. But necessary." Watching the probe hurtle toward Earth had prickled the hair at the back of his neck, reminding him too much of the war with Darkseid and Imperiex, but it had accomplished one thing: it made her feel, for just a moment, like one of Earth’s heroes, like a JLA teammate. "The rest of the JLA didn’t know that Superman was waiting in case something went wrong, but in any event, she pulled it off magnificently. Wrapped that rope around a portion of the probe, then used its own momentum to whip it toward the sun. Like a slingshot."

"You sound unusually impressed, sir."

Bruce frowned. "I am, Alfred. Most metas of her class--not that there are many--would probably have tried to stop it with their strength, pushing against it. Instead, she turned the most dangerous aspects of the probe’s descent--its speed and weight--against it, and used those factors to destroy it."

"It offers one insight into her thought processes, sir."

"Yes, it does. She doesn’t rely on her powers, but her brain, her reasoning. And she transforms other’s strengths into weaknesses."

"The question seems to be, Master Bruce: which of your strengths does she plan to use against you in her quest?"

Bruce nodded. "And, more importantly, how much ahead of me is she?"

***

"I have discovered a way to get around your aversion to telepathically controlling the Lansinarian tech," Diana said. "It can be integrated into the League’s computer systems, and controlled like any machine from there."

"Are you certain it is compatible?"

Diana smiled and touched the wall of the cell. No buzz, no containment field. The door slid open. "That was still under my telepathic control, of course. But it adjusted to your computer systems within seconds."

Batman’s jaw clenched.

She laughed at his expression. "You can contain it, so that it doesn’t spread through an entire system, Batman. Your private network will remain safe. I’ll instruct it not to seek other systems. All you will need to do is give the command to the computer, and the technology on the island will respond. No telepathy, just technology."

"Why didn’t you escape? You’ve had the capability for a while, obviously."

She grinned, leaned back on the bed. "I like it here."

His mouth tightened. "You will not use the JLA Watchtower as your base for your war on Apokolips, Diana."

Her voice rang with challenge. "Try to stop me, Batman."

***

"There’s no way out of that cell, Bruce," Superman said.

A wry smile touched Batman’s mouth. "You know I don’t believe that. There’s a way out of everything, even a cell designed to withstand you."

"The Fortress’ defenses are Kryptonian based, and only I know the language. She can neither issue a command, or find a way for her invisible tech to integrate into Kryptonian systems."

"In theory," Bruce said. "But once again I feel as if I’m playing directly into her hands by bringing her here."

"If you are, you are no worse off than before."

Bruce nodded. "Is she awake yet? I want to see her reaction to her new surroundings."

"She’s just started to wake."

***

Her reaction was unexpected. She slammed her fist into the divider separating her from Clark’s face. "You cowardly snake," she ground out between clenched teeth.

Batman saw Superman’s surprised expression, stepped in front of him, blocking Diana’s view of him. "I am the one who drugged you again, Diana, and brought you here. He did not--"

"He did not do anything!" she spat. "For the last year and a half, nothing. There is a world reeling from the impact of the war with Darkseid and Imperiex, nations trying to rebuild themselves, tyrants manipulating subjects left and right for their own gain, citizens looking for leadership and he disappears. When you could have done the most good, Superman, when you could have stood for something, you hide away only to show up when there is a flood or fire." She lifted her lips in a sneer. "You are a coward."

Batman started to point out that her own actions had been less than heroic, when Clark pushed him aside, crowded up to the glass, his expression open, eyes sad. "There were circumstances, Diana, that demand my behavior now. These ideals that you think that I should have stood for were compromised during the war. I can not, in good faith, pretend that I am what the people of the world should look up to, not knowing what I have done."

Clark’s non-aggressive stance seemed to cool some of Diana’s anger. She stepped back from the glass, crossed her arms under her breasts. "Perhaps. But I think you will find that people are far more forgiving than you give them credit for, and they would understand why you took certain actions during the war."

Superman frowned. "That was not the concern, as much as wondering how I will be able to forgive myself." He turned, walked away, leaving Bruce and Diana staring after him.

"He is an idiot," Diana announced.

Batman practically growled his response. "Not all of us find it easy to shrug off the death of another person, Diana, especially when we feel responsible for that death."

She looked at him. "Not that, Batman. He is an idiot thinking that he will find solace and self-forgiveness while remaining solitary. One can not find that while they are alone. It only exacerbates the feeling of failure and self-betrayal. You know that better than anyone -- why else would you have companions?"

He deflected that with a question of his own. "Why do you not have companions and friends, Diana?"

She smiled humorlessly. "Because before I saw the Amazons on Apokolips, that feeling of failure is what kept me going. Why else would I spend years in empty space, chasing Darkseid?"

"Revenge."

She shook her head. "Revenge is what started my quest. Shame at my failure kept the quest alive."

Batman studied her, wondering about the role of shame, revenge, and determination in his own life. He had moved beyond that, he was sure -- but how to get her to do the same? "Does the knowledge of what you have done across the galaxy, all of the nations you’ve helped, give you no sense of accomplishment?"

He watched as she unfastened the golden rope from her side, tossing it onto the bed before answering. "No," she said. "There is only my mission. There can only be my mission."

And for the first time he was certain that she had lied to him.

***

"She wants to be a hero, Alfred. Her reaction to Superman was an indication of what she thinks the responsibilities of a metahuman are." He paused. "Or maybe it is more correct to say that her nature is to be one, and her obligations push her in another directions."

"She obviously wants to free her sisters, sir," Alfred pointed out.

"That is certain, and the JLA will assist her in that. But we must be certain that she will not kill anyone in the process."

"Of course, sir." Alfred hesitated, then said, "If I may be so bold, Master Bruce--"

Bruce smiled. "You know you will be, Alfred."

"--might I suggest that instead of trying to thwart Diana, you try to jump ahead of her? It seems as though rescuing the Amazons is not the problem. Why not use her feelings of obligation for your help to keep her from murder, sir?"

Because he wanted her to realize that Darkseid’s death didn’t solve anything on her own, without the effect of obligations and friendship, he realized. He wanted her to let Darkseid live because it was wrong to kill; he didn’t want her to make that decision because of an outside influence.

But, he thought, if the outcome was the same...in any case, he had a feeling there wasn’t much time before she acted, with or without the JLA’s help.

He sighed. Alfred’s suggestion was one he had thought of himself; he had been biding his time, hoping for some sign that she had changed her mind, that he and the JLA had some influence over her. But he couldn’t wait any longer.

"You are right, Alfred."

And he contacted the rest of the JLA, and Superman, and told them of his plan to raid Apokolips.

***

"No," Diana said. She clasped her hands together, sat calmly at the cell’s lone table.

Bruce braced his palms on the table, leaned forward. "We are going, Diana. We could use you, but you aren’t necessary to the mission. Take this offer or sit in your cell. It’s your decision."

Diana watched him carefully, wondered if Superman was in the fortress. She had hoped that she would be able to do this with him absent, but if it meant fighting him on her way out, she would. She pushed away from the table, pretended to think, pacing back and forth, her gut clenching at the thought of what she was going to do. To Batman.

She didn’t look at him, but her aim was perfect, the coil of her lasso settled neatly around him. He’d tried to dodge at the last second, but she adjusted, pulled, caught him. His heel caught her in the chin, and her head turned with the force of it, but she held on, used her strength to force his arms back, wrapped the lasso around his wrists.

"Diana!" Her name was an expletive, she could feel the fury emanating from him as he used his legs, his shoulders, his weight, trying to break free. He managed to slip out of his gloves, past the coils on his wrists, but she quickly caught his hands, stripped the gauntlets from them, tied his bare hands. She lifted his arms behind his back to the point of pain, pushed a little further.

"Stop, Batman." She avoided a slash of his leg. "Please, stop."

He did, not because of her request, she knew, but because he was calculating, planning a way to get away from her. "You can’t get out, Diana. The lock is voice activated, and I will not give the code."

She closed her eyes, dredging up the resolve within her, making sure it was hard, hot. Still, her voice was tinged with regret as she said, "I know you think that is the truth, Batman, but you will not have a choice." She lifted him from the floor to deny him leverage, flew toward the control box in the middle of the glass panel that served as a door. "Batman, what is the authorization code for the cell door?"

She felt him fight to remain silent, heard his disbelieving breath after he spoke it. The door slid open, and she coiled the lasso around him one more time, then used it as support to carry him under her as she flew down the corridor. "Is Superman in the fortress?"

"No," he gritted out. He fought furiously against the lasso. "What spell is this? How do you compel me to speak?"

"Truth must be spoken when one is bound by the golden lasso." They entered the fortress’ great hall, and Diana paused, floating, looking around her at the technology, the statues. "Do you know if any of this technology can transport me to Apokolips?"

"Yes, but I do not know how to activate it."

She knew he offered the last bit voluntarily, to dissuade her from her course. She would not be dissuaded. "Is a Green Lantern ring here?" She knew it wasn’t on the Watchtower -- when she had integrated the Lansinarian tech with the JLA computer system, it had run a check over the entire facility and informed her that the ring was not in safekeeping at that site. It had run probables, told her that the most likely place Batman and Superman would have hid it was Superman’s nearly impenetrable fortress.

"No."

"But you know where it is." It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t have to answer. She lifted him, held him out in front of her, faced his glare. She sighed. "I told you not to trust me, Batman. It was stupid of you to come into that room."

"I knew if you didn't agree with our plan your hand would be forced," he said. "I didn’t trust you."

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it was the truth, and it did. She ignored the feeling, asked her next question clearly. "Where have you hidden the Green Lantern’s ring?"

And watched, unbelieving, as his eyes closed and his head lolled backward on his shoulders. Her mouth opened in surprise, then began to laugh at his audacity, his cleverness, despite herself and the effect on her plan.

He had, somehow, managed to fall unconscious to avoid answering her questions.

***

He recognized the smell of the island before he opened his eyes. He felt the ground underneath him, cushioned by the grass and his uniform.

She was there, standing over him, watching him. "So we are at an impasse, Batman. You will make yourself fall unconscious again if I ask you about the ring--"

"Yes." He pushed himself up, stood facing her, letting his cape come forward, presenting to her a solid black form.

"--and I will not agree to endangering Earth’s remaining heroes in my quest."

"Freeing enslaved women is part of their mission, their purpose as well."

Her eyes shone, brilliantly blue. "And my intent to kill Darkseid? They condone that as well?" She shook her head, her hair swinging over her shoulders. "I will take Darkseid down, and they would become a part of that, it would weigh on their conscience. Do not tell me that you want more Supermans on your hands, Batman. His guilt and inaction frustrates you, I can tell."

He kept his expression blank. "And what of your guilt if you succeed?"

She palmed her lasso, quickly wrapped it around her waist. "An Amazon should have no guilt for upholding the honor of her race, for seeking revenge on a murderer, and enslaver." She held his gaze. "I am bound by the lasso’s truth as well, Batman. What I say is the truth."

He stepped forward quickly, placed his hand over hers as she started to unwind the lasso. Her skin was warm under his. "Say that again, Diana, but this time use the words, ‘I, Diana, will feel no guilt for killing Darkseid.’"

She opened her mouth to speak, trembled, tried again. Finally, she closed her eyes in defeat. "I can’t," she said. "But it doesn’t matter. It must be done, guilt or not."

"It does matter. There must be another way, and we'll find it," he said quietly. "Trust me."

He saw the indecision war on her features, didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she said, "I do." A flash of humor lit her face, and she gestured to the lasso still clasped in both their hands. "I trust you....a little."

And he knew it was the truth when he answered, "As I do you. Very little."

She laughed, and he admitted to himself that he liked the sound of it more than a little.

---to be continued