IN DARKEST LIGHT

By Meljean Brook ([email protected])

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction, for which I am making no money, nor receiving any other form of compensation. I do not own the characters herein, nor claim to own them. All characters, representations, and likenesses are owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros.

Note: This chapter probably deserves its "R" rating. Theoretically, the scenes are supposed to forward character growth and forward the plot, and I don't consider them NC-17, because, while they are sexual in nature and graphic, they aren't nearly as explicit nor gratuitous as some of the stuff that does earn a NC-17 rating. I suppose in some people's own rating systems, however, they are explicit enough to warrant NC-17. I've read enough that I know they don't even compare. However, if you are a youngster by age (aren't we all youngsters at heart?) or you simply don't want to read it, be warned: it's in here.

Chapter 4: The Dark

The problem with these functions, Diana thought, is that everyone is more interested in being seen caring than actually caring about the problem for which they are raising money. There were notable exceptions, of course, but for the most part Gotham society was there to show off their wealth and to see Wonder Woman; helping out the Gotham's needy parents and children was just a necessary evil that had to be attended to in order to do the showing off and gawking.

She knew that she was an effective speaker, and that her speech before dinner had garnered some real interest and enthusiasm for the Wayne Foundation's cause, but she was also aware that most of them would forget about it in the next two or three days. They would pay their money and consider their duty done.

The money helped, but an hour of time from each of them would do much, much more.

Or, she thought, looking at Bruce, a lifetime of hours.

His date for the evening was, Diana imagined, the type of woman Bruce Wayne would have married had his life taken a different turn. Marcia, a stockbroker: sharp, elegant, lean and gorgeous. Blonde, Diana noted. She remembered what Batman had said about brunettes, and smiled. Probably blonde so that he wouldn't be tempted to get into a relationship, since he preferred darker women. Except for her.

"Your speech was marvelous, my dear." An elderly woman, Greta Janesson, said from the seat next to her. "I'm sure that the Wayne Foundation feels indebted to you. They'll exceed their expectations for tonight, I think."

Across the table, Bruce looked up from his date's chest. "I'm sure we will, Mrs. Janesson, and indebted we are." He grinned wolfishly. "I'd be happy to show the princess exactly how indebted."

Diana noticed the brief flash of hurt in Marcia's eyes. "I don't think, Mr. Wayne, that what you have to offer would even begin to satisfy me--or your debt."

Touché, Bruce's eyes said, but he added, "But, Princess, my assets are very large. I feel that I can satisfy any debt."

Mrs. Janesson giggled. Diana glanced at her blushing cheeks, then at Marcia's stony glare. She picked up a small carrot from her plate, bit it in half with a flash of white teeth. Bruce gulped theatrically. "However big your ass is, Mr. Wayne--"

"Assets," he interjected smoothly.

"Same difference." Diana waved her hand dismissively. There were a few chuckles from the table next to theirs. "No matter their size, Mr. Wayne, I don't think that you have anything to offer me worth accepting." Her gaze raked his figure, found him wanting. "Besides, I've heard that reports on the size of your assets are exaggerated."

"My accountants and portfolio managers would disagree." He nodded at Marcia. "Right, honey?"

Marcia curled her lip; Diana silently applauded her reaction. This Bruce Wayne was a womanizing jerk. Marcia said, voice dripping with venom, "I can vouch for the size of your portfolio, honey, but as for your other assets, all I can say is that they seem overblown, little used and never seen."

"And there's no accounting for taste, anyway. Isn't that how the saying goes?" Diana looked around the table for confirmation. Eight heads nodded.

Bruce turned away and made a show of trying to console Marcia. Diana wondered how he could constantly alienate people in his need to maintain his secret identity. It must be very lonely.

"He's a good boy, really," Mrs. Janesson said in a low voice next to her. "We've known him for years, we knew his parents."

Diana lifted an eyebrow in feigned disbelief. "A good boy?"

"Don't look at me like that. It's true." Mrs. Janesson assured her. "Mark--my husband--and I have a theory that he is afraid of commitment because of what happened to Thomas and Martha. Bruce's parents."

Little did she know just how much their deaths had affected him, Diana thought. Did anyone, anyone at all, know who Bruce really was, who Batman really was? Maybe Alfred. But it was likely that Bruce kept things from Alfred, as well. The butler was like a father to Bruce, and Diana knew of no child that shared everything with its parents.

And the things that were shared were not always the things that should be said.

"Oh, dear, I'd forgotten that you just lost your mother as well." Greta patted Diana's hand sympathetically. "For a moment there you looked as if you wanted to cry."

Diana caught Bruce looking at them, listening, before he noticed her attention and winked suggestively. She ignored him and smiled at the older woman. "I was thinking about her, as well as other things."

"I know, it sneaks up at odd moments, and you'll see someone, or do something that reminds you of her, and it'll hurt all over again." Her face creased into a wistful smile. "I lost my mother young, too." She shook herself. "But no matter. I met your mother once. I was stationed as a nurse in a field office during the war." She began telling the story; Diana listened with half of her concentration on the tale, the other half on the room, alert for any hint of the Joker.

Batman thought he'd show tonight; and, as Oracle had pointed out to Diana many times, he was usually right.

***

He might have been wrong, Bruce acknowledged, checking his watch. The auction was nearly complete; the only item left was Diana's golden olive branch. The announcer was currently building up excitement in the unique object.

"And to give away this magnificent item is Wonder Woman herself, of Themyscira, the magical isle where this amazing tree grows. Princess Diana?"

Bruce clapped with the rest of the guests as Diana returned to the podium where she had spoken earlier. The sound of applause mingled with the murmurs of approval her appearance always elicited; in her blue silk sheath that perfectly matched her eyes, she was breathtaking. And, Bruce noted with approval, the dress was functional. Although ankle-length, the dress had slits all the way up both thighs, allowing maximum movement. And, he couldn't help but observe, showing a disturbing amount of smooth, toned leg. Which was stupid to notice, he reminded himself, since in her Wonder Woman uniform she showed much more than that.

She wore no jewelry except her bracelets and a small pendant that held the vial of Joker venom antidote enclosed in the tiny hypodermic. She would simply have to grab the necklace and inject herself, should something happen.

Which, increasingly, it looked as though nothing would.

She took the branch in hand and stepped to the microphone, smiling warmly. "Athena, from whose tree this golden bough has been taken, is a goddess of contradictions: she is a warrior, yet her favorite tree, the olive, has become a symbol of peace and harmony." Not unlike Diana herself, Bruce thought. A warrior who wants peace. "She is also known for her wisdom. It is no mistake that the most wise of the Olympian gods values both war and peace. What Gotham has endured has been like a war, with death, destruction, loss of life and infrastructure. In wars, families are broken. But war also lets us remember the value of harmony, of life, and of family, and now is the time for peace and healing in Gotham. I, Diana of Themyscira, extend this olive branch to the people of Gotham, in the hopes that it will facilitate the process of rebuilding peace, and helping the lives that have been shattered in this undeclared war."

Thunderous applause filled the room. Diana remained at the podium, her smile fixed on her face. The crowd slowly quieted, anticipating another part to her speech, or the commencement of the bidding. She remained quiet, eerily still.

The Joker. Hot fear clawed at Bruce's stomach, before he forced it into cold calculation. Murmurs rose around him; he ignored them, focused on Diana. The paralyzing venom. The Joker must have deployed it through the microphone, or a mechanism under the podium. She hadn't had time to inject herself with the Joker venom's antidote. The Joker could infect her now, and she would be in a dire situation unless she got help.

Cassandra, dressed as one of the servers and hanging back in the shadows, moved toward the podium. She had an extra dose of the anti-venom, but, Batman realized, it wouldn't affect Diana's paralysis. He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Batgirl returned to the corner, waiting.

Where was the Joker? He scanned the room.

High pitched giggles floated into the conference room; the murmuring of the crowd stopped, replaced by a silent dread. They were Gothamites, they knew what that giggle meant. And something was obviously wrong with Wonder Woman.

There he was. Batman sat in Bruce Wayne's skin, watching, expression nonchalant, as the clown floated into the room on a seat of balloons.

He raised his arms. "Hello, Gotham! So nice to see you again." He laughed maniacally, then stopped, pointing at a woman who had risen from her chair. "Stay right there, baby doll, you don't want to miss this!" Everyone else who had considered getting up and running changed their minds. The woman sank back into her seat, face as white as the clown's, seemingly relieved that the Joker hadn't killed her on the spot.

Don't be relieved to soon, Batman thought. He glanced at Diana. Still frozen. She just needed time, he thought. And if the Joker did infect her, she would be okay. He'd seen her fight through Joker venom with the help of her healing gods. The antidote would work much more quickly, but she probably wouldn't die from it. Unless the Joker did something to her while she was paralyzed.

He wouldn't let himself consider that. If worse came to worse, Batgirl would act. And if that didn't work, if it meant saving Diana, Bruce Wayne would stop the Joker himself, and face whatever questions followed. But that wasn't going to happen. Diana would break through her paralysis. He knew that she could.

What had she said? I left my body to dance with Pan, then came back, and the chaos of Pan's dance overwhelmed the poison, and I was free. But there had been a cost. I told him some jokes, electrocuted myself on a light socket, then lit a fuse on his bomb. Of course, the hard part was repressing the chaos after that. It's still in me.

Diana had already been skirting the edge: her grief over her mother, her doubt over her mission. She might be as much of a danger as the Joker if she let the chaos out. A danger to herself, a danger to the guests. But it was a risk Batman decided he might have to take.

The Joker floated to the podium, jumped from his balloons, and squealed with glee. "What have we here? Wonder Babe, but," he said, turning soulful eyes on the crowd, "she's not here to save the day. Yoink!" He plucked the golden branch from Diana's unmoving fingers, then ran his gloved hand up her bare arm. "From one limb to another, hey, Wondy?" He fanned himself, the branch waving wildly, glinting above the stage lights. "Is she hot or what? Or is it something else?" He laughed at the crowd as they immediately envisioned themselves being burned to death by the Joker.

*J'onn,* Batman called to the Martian Manhunter. There was always a very, very low-key connection between all of the JLA.

*Batman?* The familiar touch of the Martian's mind entered Batman's.

The Joker was circling Diana now, looking her up and down. *I need you to connect me to Diana's mind.* Batman sent the message to the telepath.

A pause, then J'onn's shocked response grated harshly over Batman's brain. *It's a mess in there, Bruce. I'm not sure if you'll be able to reach her. What's going on?*

*The Joker,* Batman thought, then, *Connect me.*

Swirling thoughts, half memories rushed into Batman's head, bombarding him. He had been in the Joker's mind before, it was chaotic like this, but with a difference. There was no overwhelming current of evil; this chaos was pure, and filled with light. It gave him hope.

But, he reminded himself, it was still chaos. He felt the brush of something strong, solid against his mind, and he grasped onto it. He didn't have much time. *Diana.*

*Bruce?* Her mind touched his, recognized him. Warmth filled him, an outpouring of emotion from her, staggering him. What was that? he wondered briefly, before telling her, *I need you to come up, out of this. The Joker's here. Fight the poison.*

He felt her hesitate. *It'll bring the chaos up.* He absorbed a brief flash of fear from her--fear of his disapproval? That couldn't be right.

*Fight that, too, Diana.* She had to fight it, but if she couldn't, he would deal with that later. She needed to wake up, help him. He felt her waver, pushed harder. Her mind slipped from his, slightly, torn away by her brain's disorder. He would lie if it meant that she would save herself. *Diana, people are going to die here. I am going to die if you don't come out of it.*

A surge of power erupted from her mind, and the link between them broke. He looked onstage; she wasn't moving, the Joker was prodding at her immobile body.

Then she blinked.

"Oracle, tell the others to get ready. And to be as wary of Diana as of anyone else," Batman whispered into his cufflink, which doubled as a microphone. He hated to give that order, but he didn't know what was going to happen.

*Batman, I felt the link break. Diana's still in turmoil, even greater than before.* J'onn sounded worried. *But there's also an overwhelming sense of purpose, not to let you die. Should we be concerned?*

*Put Superman on standby.* If something went wrong, they might need his help.

The Joker rubbed the silk of Diana's dress between his gloved fingers. "Nice, but I have to admit I like your biker chick outfit better."

Diana grabbed his hand, grinned, a wild light in her eyes. "I'll wear it for you if you lend me your Harley to ride."

Batman noted the relief of the guests, but waited for the trick. The Joker would have been aware that Diana could break out of paralysis; she had done so before.

The clown pulled away from her, leaving Diana with a plastic hand in her grasp.

"Diana, don't grab him. We don't know what else he might have up his sleeve." Literally.

She must have heard his low command; she stopped mid-reach for his lapels. The Joker laughed. "Oh, you Amazons. Always looking for a way to take a guy's girl away." He pointed up to the ceiling. Several panels had been removed while the Joker had played with Diana; two thugs held automatic rifles, pointed at the crowd. "But this time the guy's going to get away from the girl. And take a few girls out while he does."

Diana looked up. Batman saw the indecision war on her features: take out the Joker, or save the innocent. Normally, he knew, it wouldn't have been a choice for her. Finally, she moved.

She flew in front of the rifles, bracelets flashing as the bullets slammed against them.

Under the cover of the noise, Batman issued orders, fast and furious. "Batgirl, follow the Joker. He's going. Don't fight him, don't let him see you." He looked up. "Robin, Nightwing, two of his men are in the ventilation system, with automatic rifles. I want them for questioning." They had been on the roof, waiting for his signal, watching for the Joker. He wondered how the Joker had gotten in past them, but at this moment, that wasn't as important as stopping the two gunmen.

Click. The gunfire stopped, the ammunition gone. The men disappeared from sight, scurrying back through the air ducts.

"Diana, stay here. Nightwing and Robin will get them."

She looked down at him, then glanced away. She floated gently to the ground amidst whistles and applause. She flew to the podium, and cupped her hand over her ear as if listening.

She smiled at the crowd. Bruce held his breath, wondering what was going on in her head. Her eyes were still wild, her expression carefree. "I've just been informed that the Gotham City Police are on their way to take statements, so if everyone will take their seats, we'll finish this while we wait."

Batman relaxed. That was probably true. Oracle confirmed that it was a second later.

She continued, "We have a problem, though. The Joker took my branch." She made an exaggerated pout, her lower lip thrusting out. The crowd tittered. "What can we auction off in its place?" No suggestions from the guests. They were still too wound up from the appearance of the Joker to take advantage of Diana's playful mood. Too playful, Batman worried.

Her eyes lit up, and she held a finger up triumphantly. "I know!" She paused. "A kiss. I will kiss, Amazon style, the highest bidder." She grinned wickedly. "And don't forget, ladies, you can bid, too. I believe in equal opportunities."

Batman fought a scowl. At least the Wayne Foundation would be happy, if the shouted bid amounts were any indication. He glanced at the door, wondering if he should try to leave now, or wait until she finished. He needed to get into costume, go after the Joker. Bruce Wayne would be missed, though, and he still had to get rid of his date.

"Bruce, there's no way you can pass that up," Nightwing's amused voice crackled over the tiny receiver in Batman's ear. Oracle had apparently relayed what was happening in the conference room to them while they chased down the Joker's goons.

"Get back to work," he growled. Beside him, Marcia looked at him askance. She'd heard him. He smiled winningly. "I was daydreaming about making Diana my slave," he said, to Marcia's obvious disgust. She slid her chair as far away from his as possible.

Well, might as well do the job completely, he thought, and raised his hand to enter a bid. He had a reputation to protect, and Marcia would probably leave by a taxi in about ten minutes.

One thousand, one hundred twenty six Gotham City women down, millions more to go.

***

Joker's gunmen had been useless; they knew nothing of the Joker's plans. They'd just been hired guns. Hired by a woman, not the Joker. Bruce screeched the Batmobile to a halt in the cave. Batgirl had lost the clown when he'd sped away in a car driven, Batgirl had said, by a woman. Who? Batman wondered. Who would be helping that insane maniac? And was she using the Joker, or was the clown using her?

And where was Diana?

"Computer -- locate all known female associates of the Joker in reverse chronological order," he commanded, then got out of the car. Two murders. He'd taken baklava and, most likely, a musical instrument. The GCPD was going through Farletti's inventory, looking for whatever was missing; they should be finished soon. And now a golden branch. Which, Diana had assured him, held no special properties, magic or otherwise.

"Computer -- link to JLA locator. Give position of Wonder Woman."

"Wonder Woman's position unknown."

Batman frowned. She had left minutes after the police had arrived, before Bruce had given his statement and gone to question the two gunmen. Had she gone after the Joker? Batgirl hadn't mentioned seeing Diana follow them.

A light flashed and a short beep from the computer indicated that someone from the Watchtower was trying to contact him.

"On screen."

Superman's image filled up the monitor. "Where's Diana?"

Under his mask, Batman's eyes narrowed. Clark's concern was wasting his time. Talking about Diana being missing wasn't conducive to finding her. "I don't know." He reached forward to disconnect, but Superman's next words stopped him.

"What did you let the Joker do to her? J'onn told me her mind was in ruins."

I let the Joker to do her? "That came from Diana herself, not the Joker."

Superman leaned closer to the monitor in the Watchtower, as if trying to intimidate Batman, to force him to see something Clark's way. "I spent a thousand years fighting all kinds of horrors next to that woman. She doesn't break like that."

"She didn't break. She opened herself up to it." A thousand years. As if Batman had forgotten.

"To save you!" Clark shook his head, then eyed Batman seriously. "Doesn't it make you wonder why she'd endanger everyone like that to save you?'

What was he getting at? "She's a hero, Superman. I'm her comrade. That's what she does." A new thought occurred to Bruce; news of the auction would have reached the wires by now, including the final bid and kiss with Bruce Wayne. "Jealous, Clark?"

A mixture of anger and sadness played across Superman's face. "Some detective," Clark said, and closed the link.

The monitor went dark, and Batman smiled, then pulled off his mask and cape. Clark always cut conversations short when there was the suggestion that Superman might have feelings for Wonder Woman. Bruce knew that Clark was devoted to Lois; he had simply wanted to get Clark to disconnect so that he could get back to work: finding the Joker, finding the woman who helped him, and finding Diana.

A list of names popped up onscreen; Batman considered each woman carefully, noted their locations, and sent a list of a select few to Barbara, asking her to have Nightwing and Robin check them out. The other names on the list he could account for: they were locked up, or simply wouldn't have helped the Joker with his murders. Every criminal had their own methods; for the most part, the women on the list had split with the Joker because their methods hadn't meshed with his, and wouldn't work with him again. The Joker was simply too unstable to have partners for any length of time.

Except Harley Quinn, Batman acknowledged, but she was currently in Metropolis. In any case, it wasn't her style to stay out of the limelight. She would have been in that conference room with the Joker, laughing and dancing as he terrified the guests and stole the branch.

"Computer, cross reference apples, baklava, a golden branch, and musical instruments." Before the golden branch, the computer had listed too many possibilities. Perhaps the branch would narrow things down.

A proximity alert flashed on the monitor. A flying person approaching the cave entrance. "Computer, identify."

"Diana of Themyscira, code name Wonder Woman, member of the Justice League of America, ambassador to the United Nations. Metahuman. Powers: flight, class A strength, wields an unbreakable lasso of --"

"Enough." Good, she was back. She had probably waited until she had pushed the chaos back, deep within her, not wanting to endanger anyone.

Less than five seconds after she entered the cave he realized that she had repressed some of it, but not all of it. She landed near the Batmobile, smiling, still in her blue dress. She leaned a hip lazily against the side of the car, brushed a hand through her wind-tangled hair.

She looked like a siren bent on luring men to their deaths.

Ignore it, he told himself, and said brusquely, "Come here, Diana. We need to test your blood to make sure that you are processing the paralyzing venom without side effects."

She walked toward him, a sway to her hips that usually wasn't there, a determined glint in her eyes that told him he was in trouble. Control, Batman knew, wasn't just about strength. When Diana lost some of her control, she also lost some of her other inhibitions--her emotions had a freer reign: anger, joy, selfishness, her sense of humor, her sexuality.

Diana strolled to the med-table and lifted herself onto it. She held out an arm. "My blood's all yours, Batman." She smiled; he watched her warily. He readied a test tube, moved in close to her. He smelled the faint perfume she had sprayed on earlier that evening, light, seductive. He could remember how she had tasted.

He jabbed the needle into her inner elbow, harder than he had intended. She didn't flinch. Red fluid filled the tube; he removed it, grabbed another tube.

"You paid far too much money for that kiss." Her voice was low.

The second tube filled. He removed the needle, covered the puncture with a puff of cotton, then taped it. "It was for the Foundation." He tried to step back, but she caught his hand as he finished smoothing the tape, held it firmly. She scooted to the edge of the table, pulled him to her, wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him against her, against the table.

"You could have my kisses for free."

Her legs were like a gentle vise; he thought of seventeen different ways to escape. He stayed. "Nothing is for free."

Her fingers traced the breadth of his shoulders, the line of his pectorals, the Bat emblem. "I offer them freely. What cost would they be to you?"

He said nothing. He had already told her of the cost.

"Oh, yes, your control." She leaned forward, bit his collarbone. She wasn't sitting on the table any longer, he realized; she was floating to keep her weight off of him, her legs holding his body to hers.

"Yes." He hissed the word. His control. Which was breaking down by the second. She rubbed her groin against his, and knew she would feel his involuntary reaction. "Diana, stop. You aren't yourself."

"Not myself?" She leaned back, tightened her legs slightly, so that her pelvis pressed fully against his erection. She sat up suddenly, caught his lower lip between her teeth. He felt the brush of her tongue against it before she released him. "I feel very much like myself." Her nose touching his, he stared into her light blue eyes, which burned with hunger.

His arousal matched hers, but he wouldn't let himself give into it. Not because of his control, but because of the lack of hers. When it had happened under the spell, it was different. They had both acted without hesitation. Now, he was resisting. Even if he gave in to her seduction, when she was back to normal she would remember that he started out reluctant. If they followed through on what she was offering, when she was like this, she would never forgive herself. He just had to get through to her and make her see that.

She didn't give him the chance. Moving quickly, she flipped them around; he landed on his back on the med-table, she straddled him, her chest against his, weighing him down. "What if you don't lose control; what if I take it from you?" she whispered, her breath hot against his cheek. She sat up, grabbed his collar and ripped the top of his uniform in half, shredding the body armor like cobwebs. "What if I change strategies? You force justice, what if I force … love?" She looked down at his chest, licked her lips. "I've seen a lot of men with flawless bodies, Bruce, but I've always looked at them as if they were Greek statues: perfect, but cold. But you…every scar, every mark on you makes you more impressive, more human."

Batman kept his expression impassive as she ran her hands over his torso, rested her arms on his chest, her bracelets surprisingly warm from the heat of her wrists. She dipped her head and kissed an old bullet wound; it burned straight to his heart. He wanted to give in, wanted to let her take him.

But he couldn't.

Nor, he realized, could he throw her from him. She needed to be brought to her senses with logic, not with violence. "It's the chaos talking, Diana, not you. Think. 'Forced love'? It is impossible. This isn't what you stand for."

She licked a knife scar, then looked up. "Yes it is, I -- how did you put it once? Ah, yes. I 'force peace.' Why not this, too?"

He played a different card. "What would your Amazon sisters think of you forcing me?" They had been raped and beaten by Herakles' men long ago, before they built their cities on Themyscira.

She paused a moment before answering; he latched on to her hesitation. Her heritage was a key. Despite her faltering, however, her answer was resolute. "They. Are. Greek." She punctuated each word with a lick to an abdominal muscle. Diana looked up at him, a lascivious smile curving her lips. "Did you know, Batman, that in ancient times, one night a year during the Dionysus feasts, women were allowed to take any man who wandered out into the night for their own pleasure? You do wander out into the night often, Batman." She tugged at his waistband, pulling his pants down over his hips, exposing him.

"Diana, don't--"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken, and cupped him, gently. "They would approve of me taking a man that I want. And I do want you, Batman. I want to pleasure you." She took him into her mouth.

The cords stood out on his neck as he fought against the sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. Dear God. His mind clawed for restraint. Her heritage.

"Princess--" No, that was wrong. He had to hurry, he was going to slip over the edge, and if he did he would lose her forever: lose her in her guilt, in his inability to be in control. "Wonder Woman. Stop. Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman."

She froze, then sat up. He nearly groaned in relief, in disappointment.

She stared at him, face filled with shock, shame and horror. "What am I doing?" She glanced down at his groin, then back up at him. He lifted his hips, tugged his pants over his erection. He ignored the ache; it would go away. "Great Hera, I nearly raped you. What was I doing?" She shook her head, climbed down from the med-table. Her eyes pleaded with him. "Bruce, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She looked at her hands, as if amazed and ashamed she had used them to hold him down.

He sat on the edge of the table, their positions opposite of when they had started, of when she had given her blood. Reaching out a hand, he grasped her chin, made eye contact. "It wasn't you, Diana. You were forced to embrace the chaos. And the spell is still at work."

She jerked away from him, turned her back, rubbing her arms as if to dispel a terrible cold. "That's not an excuse. You know it, I know it."

"No, but it is a reason. You should work on dealing with the chaos, to make sure it doesn't happen again."

A short laugh escaped her. "Are you offering to help train me in that, too?"

It would be too dangerous, for him and for her. Not physically, emotionally. "No."

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. She took a deep breath. "I can head to Themyscira and break the spell tonight, then, and after that I won't be in Gotham any longer, so I probably won't run into the Joker soon. Chaos and spell problem solved."

And I won't run into you as often, either. She didn't say the words aloud, but he heard them nonetheless. His stomach tightened. He stared at her back and told himself her leaving was for the best.

She finally turned, her face pale but determined. She nodded at his work station. "Do you need me to do anything tonight before I leave?"

Yes. Stay. He banished that voice and glanced at the computer. It was still working on his previous requests and had compiled a substantial list. Only seven minutes had passed since she had come into the cave; it felt like hours. "I don't think so."

She took a step back. "I'll be going then. I'll see you at the JLA meeting."

He grabbed her hand. "I'll get Alfred to take you to the airport for a flight to New York."

"I can fly. Or transport," she said, rubbing her thumb against his palm.

"You're tired, Princess, and shaken. Take a rest. At least to New York, then you can make your way to the island."

"It's no effort."

"It's no effort for me to do this for you. Please." He added the last, knowing it would sway her decision.

"Very well." She sighed.

Aw, hell. He pulled her close, kissed her hard. Her lips were soft under his; he deepened the kiss, then pulled away. "Go break that spell, Princess."

She lifted a hand to her lips, nodded. "Until the meeting, Batman," she said, but they both knew, in many ways, it was a goodbye.

He watched her disappear into the corridor leading to the mansion, and hopped down from the table, then walked over to the exercise area. The computer was still working, and he needed to burn off some energy.

Her absence left a hollow in the pit of his stomach, but, he reminded himself, it would go away once the spell had been broken.

A dummy's head flew across the cave, fell down the abyss. He listened for it to hit bottom, stood there, chest heaving. He hadn't found out why she had lied to him about the spell at her apartment earlier; but, he thought, it had probably had something to do with her sister's involvement in it. Diana would break the spell, and it wouldn't matter, anyway.

Batman wiped himself down with a towel, walked back to the computer. The loneliness would be gone in a few hours, soon after Diana arrived on Themyscira. Until then, he would lose himself in his work, in capturing the Joker.

The incoming message alert beeped--the line from GCPD headquarters. Batman accepted the transmission, and an inventory list scrolled across his screen. Farletti's list. The computer quickly cross-referenced Farletti's records and the police inventory, and found which instrument was missing.

A lyre. Batman frowned. What the hell?

***

Diana caught Alfred looking at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes concerned. She had probably been sighing for the last six miles. Giving him a reassuring smile, she said, "I'm not very comfortable in vehicles. Strange, I know." She felt smaller, more vulnerable in cars. She didn't know why, considering she often flew at mach speeds through the air.

"Perhaps a little radio to help you relax, miss?"

"Please, Alfred. A news channel, I think."

"Very good, miss."

"I've changed my mind, Alfred. I think I'd prefer to have the radio off."

The radio clicked. The low purr of the motor was the only sound in the car. Diana closed her eyes, leaned back in the plush seat. So it had worked. Batman's way had worked. She might not have done it, had she been in complete control of herself, but that wasn't something she could change now.

Her heart felt heavy. She had finally stopped a war, but at what cost to herself? She had left the auction, flown across the world to kidnap a military dictator, frightened him, and forced him to witness what his bombing had done. The children, hungry and homeless. The men and women, injured, crippled or dead. Then she had told him she would come after him, and do the same to him, if he allowed it to go on one more day.

All while wearing a dark cloak, a mask, and using a voice different from her own.

Hours ago, at her apartment, she had used the lasso of truth to recognize that she believed that Batman's way would be successful, but she had also been forced to acknowledge that it wasn't Wonder Woman's way. So she had decided to follow the edicts of Wonder Woman, and had accepted the contradiction within herself. It had brought her some measure of peace. But now, she had done what she had sworn she would not do, because she hadn't been able to control the chaos that had raged within her.

And she had forced herself upon Bruce, hours after she had accepted and found peace in knowing that she loved him, but he would never love her. And now…now that peace was gone.

Wonder Woman wouldn't have done the things Diana had that night.

Athena, she thought, I could use your wisdom now.

"We are entering the city, miss. Are there any stops you would like to make before we merge onto the freeway to the airport?"

Early morning hung heavily over Gotham. Diana noted the usual night life had dispersed, either because it was very late, or because the knowledge that the Joker was loose kept everyone inside.

"No, Alfred. Thank you."

Alfred obviously thought the same thing. "It's probably best, miss. The people of Gotham are usually unwelcoming for days after the Joker disappears. And the places that are open at this time are probably not suitable for such as yourself."

Diana hid a grim smile. Such as herself. She wondered if he would say that if he'd known what she'd done to his Master Bruce thirty minutes earlier.

"Will you be returning soon to continue your training with Master Bruce, miss?"

Regret tugged at her heart. She had enjoyed the training sessions with him and Batgirl. "I don't think so, Alfred. Bruce will have his hands full with the Joker, and I need to return to my duties." Not that she had neglected them, but it was a convenient excuse to use.

"Ah, the Joker." Alfred shook his head, sadness touching his features. "He and Master Bruce will destroy each other some day."

"Why, Alfred?"

"There is nothing good left in the clown, miss; I fear that one day Master Bruce will be forced to bring about his end." Alfred met Diana's eyes in the mirror. "Not that, under some circumstances, that would be wrong. But such an action would make him fear himself."

Diana thought of the thin line Batman said he treaded. "I think that he already does that, Alfred." The butler gave a slow nod of agreement. "Do you also believe, then, that there is no chance of rehabilitation for the Joker?"

"I do not know, miss. But a man's heart is a strange thing; it can be surrounded by darkness and still give off its own light, or it can be surrounded by light, and cast shadows all around it. The clown seems to be of the dark, and his heart eats away at the light around it."

Diana considered that, then asked, "What about Bruce?"

Alfred smiled fondly. "Master Bruce is convinced that his heart is dark, but the simple fact is that he simply lives in darkness. He surrounds himself with light, though: young Master Dick, Robin, the heroes of the JLA. In an attempt, I think, to remind himself of what he once had. At the same time, though, the lights remind him what he is fighting for and what he lost, and unfortunately, he must fight in the dark."

Alfred drove onto a private airfield, and stopped the car, then got out. He strode around to open Diana's door. "What about you, Alfred?"

"I live in light, Miss Diana, and that light is Master Bruce. Even when he is surrounded by the dimmest, darkest light, he is the brightest light for me, like the sun. Like a son."

"I hope he realizes that." Diana smiled, kissed the older man's cheek. "I'm glad he has you."

"So am I, miss, but I also hope he finds someone else one day." Alfred looked directly at her.

Diana looked away. It wouldn't be her. "So do I, Alfred." She held out her hand, gave him a small transmitter. "This is the Bat radio that he gave me; I won't be needing it now."

Alfred took it, rolled it around on his palm. "Are you sure, miss?"

"Yes."

Alfred nodded. "Very well, Miss Diana." He guided her to the left. "The plane is this way."

Diana stopped him with a gentle hand to his forearm. "I think I'll get home under my own power, Alfred." She saw him about to argue, and continued before he could convince her otherwise. The butler had a way of coercing a person before they realized it. "I need the time to think, to clear my head."

"As you wish, miss," he said, and watched as she lifted into the night sky.

Diana flew quickly, the wind roaring past her. The night was bright, clear, the stars burning icy holes in the dome of the sky. Constellations from her Greek history floated above her: Casseopeia, Herakles, Orpheus' lyre, Orion, Pegasus, Andromeda.

In my own history, this is what I would consider my period of darkest light. Her mother's death, the civil war and destruction of Themyscira, her uncertainty about her mission, her impossible love for Batman, her recent actions; but, she thought, she was not surrounded by darkness. There was light, too. Her Amazon sisters, Superman and her comrades in the JLA, her human friends that had welcomed her into Patriarch's World. And Batman.

Especially Batman. She touched her lips, cold now from the brisk flight.

New York City's lights twinkled below, so different from Gotham, yet in many ways the same. She landed on her balcony, smiling a little when she thought of her reaction to Donna's mention of using the balcony to enter the apartment a day and a half ago. She wouldn't become paranoid.

She opened the French doors to her bedroom, went to the chest at the end of the bed. She had work to do. She needed to enter the Underworld and remove the spell from Batman. She had gone before; it required preparation and meditation. And the courage to face whatever the dark realm threw at her.

She had to do it, though; Bruce was counting on her. She understood, now more than ever, what his control must mean to him. She had nearly lost her own, nearly raped him; his worry was much larger: he didn't want to kill.

He must have hated that the magic took away his control, made him have sex with her. It wasn't the sex itself, she knew, but that the choice had not been his. And, as long as the spell remained on him, as long as it altered his thoughts, however slightly, he would live in fear of losing control, that the decisions he made were not his own, and that they would lead to other alien decisions.

If the price of that was losing whatever hold over him the spell had given her, so be it.

For Diana, love was a gift; but, if Batman considered it a burden, the last thing she would ever do was lay her feelings on his shoulders. She was not ashamed of her love, nor would she hide it--but neither would she use it against him.

And now, the best way that she could love him was to erase any false feelings of love he had for her, physical or emotional.

She stood for love. She stood for truth. They were not the same thing, and sometimes, couldn't co-exist.

***

Batman stared at the monitors. The baklava had been too specific, any treat would have done.

Orpheus used his lyre to enter the Greek mythological Underworld to rescue his wife, Eurydice.

Aeneas needed a golden bough to gain entrance into the Roman mythological Underworld.

Both Aeneas and Psyche had subdued the three headed dog, Cerberus, guardian of the gates of the Underworld, with a bit of cake. Baklava would work just as well, Batman theorized.

The Joker was headed for the Underworld. Why? And how did the poisoned apple he'd used fit into this? Batman ordered the computer to search Greek and Roman myths.

Atalanta had been tricked by her lover with a golden apple. The Trojan War had begun over a golden apple that the goddess of Discord, Eris, had thrown into a banqueting hall--wait.

Eris. He and Diana had fought the goddess, along with her two brothers, Deimos and Phobos, not long ago. One of the apples, the golden apple of Maxie Zeus, had been lost. Maxie Zeus had sacrificed himself to give rise to the war god Ares; and, Batman remembered, Maxie had a daughter: Medea.

Dr. Kaeklis, the doctor who had diagnosed the Joker with his fatal disease, had once made a donation to Maxie Zeus, had been one of the supporters of Maxie's religious theories.

He needed to talk to Medea.

And, he realized, Diana. There was no one who knew more about Greek mythology than she. He punched a button on his console.

"Alfred, have you dropped Diana off yet?"

"She flew out almost a half an hour ago, sir. I'm nearing the mansion now."

Batman swore. Well, she would have to fly back from the plane, then. She could jump out in mid-air. He needed her in the cave, needed her expertise when he questioned Medea. He called up the location of the Wayne Corp private jet, noted it was still at the Gotham airport.

"Alfred, did you say she flew out?"

"Yes, Master Bruce, but I'm afraid it was under her own power."

"She was supposed to use the jet."

"I am only a man, Master Bruce. Should I have manhandled her onto the plane?"

Batman ground his teeth together. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Very good, sir."

Bruce tapped his hand against the arm of the chair. He knew Diana wasn't wearing her JLA commlink and locator, because he'd tried that earlier in the evening. And, if she had gone directly to Themyscira, he wouldn't have the chance to speak with her until she returned to Man's World.

Her sister might be able to help him, however.

"Computer, locate Donna Troy."

"Donna Troy logged in at Titan headquarters."

He established a link, told a startled Flash to get Troia. While he waited, he started a search for Medea Zeus. He found the information he was looking for sooner than he expected.

Two tickets purchased for that evening on the Concorde to Paris, for Medea and John A. Seed. Funny. A private jet reserved from Paris to Athens, scheduled to land--Batman checked the time, converted it to his time zone--half an hour ago. Damn.

Donna appeared onscreen, her eyes and face so much like Diana's that Bruce blinked. Twins, but with subtle and not so subtle differences. Diana was taller, heavier, her features more sharply defined. But the hair, eyes were exactly the same color, her face the same shape. Wonder Woman Lite, Lois Lane had once written.

Not so 'lite', Bruce thought now, remembering the stories Dick had told him about Troia: her loyalty, her strength, her history of lifetimes lived in tragedy. And it was her history, her familiarity with Greek myth, for which Batman needed her now.

"Batman," she said simply.

He didn't waste time. "Why would the Joker, dying of a fatal disease, travel to the Greek Underworld?"

Donna pursed her lips, thinking. "This is really Diana's area of expertise, but my first impulse is to say he is going to the Styx."

A river? Ah, the Iliad. Achilles. He would thank Alfred for his classical tutors later. "So that he would become invulnerable against wounds or disease." Achilles' mother had dipped him in the Styx to make him invincible, except she had held onto him by his heel. During the Trojan War, Achilles had been wounded in his heel, and died from the injury. On any other part of his body a weapon had been useless.

Batman tried to imagine the Joker, invulnerable. It would be disastrous. He needed to get to the Underworld, to stop him.

"Right." Donna hesitated, then added, "But you should really ask Diana about this. There might be a different reason."

"She's gone to Themyscira to talk to your sorceress about breaking that spell you put on Green Lantern." Batman made his tone harsh, letting her know in no uncertain terms what he had thought of the spell.

But Donna was frowning, not cowering. "Diana hasn't gone to Themyscira. I would feel it. In any case, Magala isn't there any more." She tilted her head, regarded him thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if I should tell you this, since Diana obviously didn't."

Batman's jaw tightened. No, Diana hadn't told him. Dammit, he knew something wasn't right, and he had let it go. "Tell me," he grated out.

Donna seemed to come to a decision, nodded. "All right. Magala's dead. She has been for quite some time, but she had been replaced by Ariadne, another sorceress who has always hated the Amazons. We found out just recently who she really was during the civil war on Themyscira, which Ariadne started."

"Then Diana is getting the spell reversal from Ariadne?" Would probably have to fight it out of the sorceress, Batman thought. But if anyone could, it would be Diana.

"No, Ariadne is dead, too. Fury ripped her heart out." Donna tapped a fingernail against her teeth, considering. "That means Diana would have to travel to the Underworld to ask Ariadne about removing the spell from you." She frowned. "I wonder why she didn't ask me to watch over her?"

"Why would you have to watch over her?" He kept his expression blank. He was seething.

Worry touched her tone. "Because Diana enters the Underworld spiritually, not physically. She doesn't have any powers down there." She drew her eyebrows together. "And anything that happens to her down there, happens to her in the physical world. She gets hurt there, she gets hurt here. Usually, an Amazon will have a sister or healer stay with her body to help tend any wounds that she incurs."

Batman leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingertips. The Joker was headed for, or already in, the Underworld. Diana was either there or on her way, without powers. He knew she could handle herself in a fight, but she didn't know the clown would be down there. The Joker would have an element of surprise, something Batman knew to be very, very effective.

"The Joker caught a flight to Greece. Why?"

Donna blew out a long, frustrated breath of air. "You think I can fathom his mind?" Batman didn't answer, simply waited. Donna rolled her eyes. "He probably wants to enter the Underworld physically. That would support the Styx theory. A swim in the Styx won't affect him if he goes down in spiritual form, since souls aren't damageable.."

"Can you tell if Diana is there yet?"

Donna closed her eyes, a look of concentration on her face. "No, not yet. At least I don't think so. Our connection isn't perfect." She glanced at something behind her, then back at the monitor. "Look, I'm going to call our apartment, and see if she's there. That's probably where she'll make the journey; it's a secure location for her body to remain. If she doesn't answer, I'm flying home to check."

"I'll meet you there." Batman stood. He had a feeling Diana wouldn't answer, and even if she did, he needed to get there. He had to stop the Joker.

Donna shook her head. "I don't think so, Batman. If Diana had wanted--"

"I'll meet you there," Batman repeated, disconnected, then pulled out a new costume to replace the shredded one. If Diana was still on this world, he would go to the Underworld with her. He couldn't let the Joker swim the Styx, and he wouldn't put the responsibility of the clown on someone else's shoulders.

And if Diana was already down there, then Troia would have to guide him. Either way, it looked like he was going to Hell.

Batman smiled as he readied the small Batplane. Something about the costume made his life seem much more dramatic than it was.

Hell. More likely, another dimension that the so called gods of myth had accessed long ago. To Batman, the gods were more likely simply another form of metahuman or alien, who received their powers through the energies of their followers.

Powerful, yes. Immortal, maybe. Undefeatable, no. He'd seen too many 'gods' die to believe in them, or whatever message they spouted.

Gods. He didn't know any. What he knew was that his parents had lain in a gutter dying, and there had been no gods around to save them.

Now that was hell.

***

He found the two women in Diana's room; Diana was lying on her bed in full armor, Donna was leaning over her, face pale.

"I felt her go under when I was about halfway here. I don't think she landed in a happy spot." Even as she spoke, a cut appeared on Diana's cheek and began to bleed. "Oh, damn." Donna held a cloth against the wound, began dressing it.

"What's down there?" He had reviewed descriptions of the realm on his flight to New York, but the Greek and Roman historians had not gone into long-winded detail about the Underworld.

Donna smiled grimly. "What isn't? Warlords fighting over territory with their armies, roving packs of demons, the occasional monster or chimera."

"Is there anywhere safe for her to go?"

"The Elysian Fields, but she won't find Ariadne there. She might find comrades, though. She will need to find Magala, Antiope or a Bana-Mighdall, at the very least. They're one of the few who know what Ariadne looks like in her true form. Maybe Theseus."

"Will she find her mother?"

Donna nodded. "Maybe." She looked up at him. "What I don't understand is how she isn't under the spell and you are. You still must be, or she wouldn't need to have gone. Did she have any theories to that end?"

Batman stared down at Diana. How much more had she kept from him? And why? "No theories that I know of," he said carefully. Best not to let Donna know how uninformed he was. He took an educated guess. "Just that the lasso had revealed she wasn't under the spell."

Donna confirmed his assumption. "Yes. She must have tried it out on you, too?"

Batman didn't answer, let her think that was the case. Diana had known for at least twelve hours that she wasn't under the spell, yet she had let him go on thinking that she was. How had she broken it?

He would ask her in a few minutes, he decided. He turned to Donna.

"How do I join her?"

Donna shook her head. "You would have to be very skilled at meditation, and--"

"I am."

"--and you have to believe in the Underworld. In the gods. They are the anchor that lets you access the realm."

Batman looked down at Diana again, her hands clasped around her bow, her sword, her lasso at her side. "Can she be my anchor?"

Donna frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe. That might work. You know her well, have a physical connection with her, as a comrade-in-arms and as a previous lover. You have an emotional connection to her, through friendship, and whatever feelings for her the spell has created. False or not, it might be enough to get you down there. Friends and lovers used to go to the Underworld regularly for someone they'd lost in the myths." She paused, glanced up at him. "Plus, since she was once a goddess, that might give you a better chance. We'll make sure you have a physical connection here, too. Hold her hand or something, so that your spirit will find hers more easily."

Batman checked his gear. "Whatever I have on me will go with me?"

Donna opened a chest at the end of Diana's bed. "Yes. Plus we'll need to get you some other weapons, some food, things like that." She stood, closed the lid, held up the leather bag she had taken from the chest. "Diana took one of these, put a bedroll and some food in there, so she obviously thought she might be gone a few days. They've been magically treated so that anyone can put food or other items in them here, and in the Underworld, they will appear. It's important not to eat or drink anything down there that isn't from your bags." Donna grinned. "Remember Persephone? You don't want to be Hades' new queen." She slung the satchel at Batman. "She must have known I would find her like this, and take care of her, but she didn't tell me she was going." She sighed heavily. "I wish I knew why."

"A few days?" The more Donna spoke, the more irrational and irresponsible Diana's actions seemed. Not only had she lied to Batman, she had kept her going a secret from everyone who might help her.

"It's a big place, and you never know where you'll land. I'll let Dick and Alfred know where you are." She shrugged at his stare, gave him a once-over. "Okay, we need to get you some weapons." She strode outside of the room; Batman followed. Donna ticked off Diana's weapons on her fingers as she walked. "She took her lasso, of course, and a sword, probably for fighting at close range, and a bow with a ton of arrows, for things at long range. She also put on armor."

Batman looked down at his suit, lined with kevlar. "I think my costume will be fine for armor."

Donna nodded, then said, "Yes, but you might want a shield, anyway. The warlords' armies use arrows very proficiently." She stopped in front of a large doorway, which the blueprints Bruce had perused when installing nullifiers had claimed was to a closet, and turned to look at him. "There are no guns in here, of course, but I don't think you use them anyway."

Heh. She might as well just call him 'Bruce' and be done with it, Batman thought.

Donna opened the door, said, "What kind of weapons can you use?"

Bruce smiled. There wasn't much he hadn't trained with until he'd mastered it. "What do you have?" he said, and stepped through the door. Definitely not a closet. He looked up and down the walls and display cases of the large room, and his grin widened. Diana. She had everything.

***

Diana yanked her sword out of the demon, attempted to clean off its black blood from the blade by wiping it on its scaly hide. It smelled like dung. She glanced cautiously around her; the other demons lay still; now and again a leathery wing fluttered in a death seizure.

Her arms ached pleasantly; her sword was much heavier when she didn't have the strength of Gaea to keep it aloft for long periods of time. Her cheek itched, but it had stopped bleeding almost immediately. She was sure that meant Donna had found her, was caring for her. Thank Hera. Donna would be upset that Diana had gone without telling her; but her sister would be furious if Diana had died because there was no one to care for her.

Diana grinned at that. She wasn't going to die, and even if she did, the last thing she would be worrying about then would be her sister's wrath. She imagined Donna coming down to the Underworld to find her, and launching into a tirade about Diana's irresponsibility.

A laugh escaped her; she kicked aside a demon and started to resume her journey, the acrid smell of the Underworld tingling in her nostrils. She was in her element. This was what she was made for: fighting demons, going on a quest to remove a spell from a handsome pr--Er, Bat.

Something rustled behind her. A wing? She spun around, sword ready, and her eyes widened in shock.

Batman, crouched, staring hard at her, then looking around him, at the pile of demon carcasses. She knew what he must think of what he saw: the dark, almost black sand studded with boulders and stones, the steep incline on which they stood, the bodies of the demons above them, the long, shadowy plain below the foothills they were in. The Underworld was dark, ugly.

He sniffed, but said nothing. A crossbow was slung over his shoulder, and he held a quarterstaff in his right hand. Both hers, she noted.

She was going to kill Donna.

Maybe Batman, too. There was no doubt in her mind that he had coerced her sister into this.

She sheathed her sword. "I suppose there is no point to me saying that you need to go back?" Not that he could.

"No."

She hadn't thought so. She glanced up at the sky. Dark red. "We need to get moving. Night is falling fast, and there won't be any lights by which to see. These demons will be re-animated by then, and hunting for us. We have to find shelter before then." She turned, picked her way down the rocky slope, slipping now and again on the shifting sand.

Batman fell into step behind her; neither of them spoke. Diana looked ahead. Across the plain was a towering mountain, the seat of Hades, god of the Underworld. She judged the distance between here and there; at least another day and a half of travel. She had been lucky she hadn't arrived in one of the outlying realms, where it might have taken her weeks to trek to the this side of Hell.

She looked back at Bruce and sighed. She hadn't counted on him. She frowned. Why was he here? He obviously must have found out that Magala was dead, and perhaps Donna told him about Ariadne, but that alone wouldn't have made him come.

She stopped mid-stride, pointed at a cave on the side of the hill. "We'll stop there for the night."

Batman stepped up beside her. "How long does night last?"

"About four hours." Diana jumped over a rock. "The demons can see in the dark, but they can't really hear or smell anything. If we stay out of sight in the cave, maybe block off the entrance, they'll leave us alone."

"The same ones that you killed." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Diana said, reaching the cave entrance. "Nothing down here stays dead for long." She stuck her head into the cave, then looked back at him and grinned. "Except for us." The cave was perfect: narrow entrance that could be easily defended, room to maneuver if something managed to get in, and not too deep, so nothing could wait along the corridor to ambush them. "Do you have a flare?"

He produced a mini-flare from his utility belt, struck it, then threw it into the cave. It illuminated the cracks and niches in the rock walls. Nothing was hiding in them, nothing flew out. Perfect. She moved forward to step more fully inside.

"Hold on, Princess." Batman gripped her arm, and pointed at the cave floor. Diana looked more closely. At a shadow. A moving shadow. The longer she looked at it, the more shape it began to take, until she could make out the faint human outline. "It's a shade," she said, and clarified for Batman's benefit. "A lost soul. Like a ghost, and primarily from dishonorable suicides or improper burials." She frowned. "Usually they can't get past the gates of Hell, though. The only shades allowed within the Underworld are the souls waiting to be reborn at the River Lethe. I wonder how it got here."

"I think I might know," Batman said. Diana glanced at him. He knew something; he had come down for a reason, and it wasn't for her. "I'll tell you once we are settled and have secured the perimeter. Will it be safe with that in here?"

Diana nodded. "Shades don't interact with other spirits often--including us, since we are in spiritual form, and just a physical manifestation of that form. They'll notice humans who are in true physical form only."

They worked quickly in the failing light; Batman set up traps to alert them to any movement outside, Diana scanned the sky for demons while moving rocks to make the mouth of the cave less obvious. With Batman's help, she rolled a large boulder in front of the entrance to deter any rush attacks into the cave. The last bit of light faded from the sky. She tucked her lasso inside the waist of her breastplate to hide its glow, which would seem like a beacon in the utter darkness.

Diana crawled over the boulder into the cave, her armor clanking against the stone. She heard the rustle of fabric as Batman climbed in after her. The interior of the cave was completely black; there were no stars or moon to illuminate the outside, and no hint of light or sound inside, aside from the noise of their own movements and breathing.

She heard a soft click, then a low chuckle. "What is it?" She stretched; the muscles in her back were groaning from the strain she placed them under, first fighting with the demons then pushing rocks around.

"It is so dark here that even the night-vision lenses in the cowl are worthless. They need at least some form of light to work." By the sound of his voice, he was standing right next to her. She took a step back. Her actions earlier that night still weighed heavily on her mind, and there was no need to tempt herself. Distance, as much as she could get in this hole, would be the key.

She forced an easy tone. "Batman's famous toys."

"Tools," he corrected.

"Even the car? Wouldn't a tank be safer?" She couldn't resist teasing him. There was a running bet in the JLA that the car was supposed to make up for something Batman lacked. Although, she thought now, she could put those rumors to rest.

"I have a tank, too," he said, and she laughed softly. "And speaking of toys, Princess, I've seen your armory."

Diana backed up against the cave wall, slid down to sit on the floor. "We should probably eat and then each try to get two hours of sleep while the other keeps watch." The sand by her leg shifted, she felt the brush of his cape as he sat next to her. She caught a whiff of the cologne that Bruce Wayne had used earlier. "I can smell Bruce Wayne's cologne on you. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Probably. I usually make sure that I've cleaned it all off before I put on the costume. Tonight, I didn't want to waste time after the auction. It was a calculated risk that no one who had seen or smelled Bruce Wayne at the auction would see Batman after it."

She heard the crunch of an apple, reached into her own bag for some bread and cheese. He had been at the auction longer than he'd needed to be because he was buying her kiss, she thought. She didn't want to mention that. Not here, when she was less than a foot away from him, in the dark. Better to talk about work.

"Any word on the Joker before you left?"

"Yes." He took another bite of apple; she envisioned his strong white teeth, his lips, then shook her head, waited until he'd swallowed. "He's here."

"Here?" she repeated blankly. Her human level hearing must be worse than she had thought.

"In the Underworld."

"How?"

Batman explained the conclusion he'd come to, about the stolen items, Medea, the plane tickets, and the Styx. She bit down on a hunk of cheese, processed the information. The River Styx was long; tracking the clown would be difficult. She said as much to Batman.

His voice was grim. "The Joker leaves chaos in his wake, even down here. We'll find him before he gets to the river."

An idea occurred to Diana. "That chaos might work to our advantage. I always intended to see Hades', but now we might also ask him to send us where the Joker is. Lord Hades allows the Warlords to fight, but any other disturbance in his realm is an annoyance to him." She took another bite. "Especially if the Joker is the reason shades are creeping into the Underworld," she said.

The contents of Batman's satchel rustled as he looked for something in it. "That's what I was thinking. He's careless enough to leave whatever object he used to get in here lying around for anything else to use. I imagine that is how this shade got in; the Joker probably left something open."

Diana nodded, even though Batman couldn't see her, and yawned. "Right. Unfortunately, shades travel very quickly, so it is hard to ascertain how far the Joker is from here. Don't throw your apple core away," she warned. "If something here eats it, they could access Earth." She pulled out her bedroll, used it as a pillow. "You get first watch. Can you tell when two hours have passed?"

"Yes."

She yawned again, couldn't believe how tired she felt. "Wake me up after two, then." She rolled onto her side. "Do you think the Joker has the golden apple?" she asked, her voice sleepy.

"Get some rest, Princess. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

She drifted off almost immediately, barely felt it when Bruce draped his cape over her like a blanket, didn't realize she murmured his name in her sleep.

When she woke, she could see the pink sky outside the cave entrance. Batman crouched next to the boulder. She sat up, preparing to reprimand him for letting her sleep while he stayed awake, then heard it. Slithering.

Sword unsheathed, she crept to the opposite side of the cave entrance from Batman, looked out. Nothing. Bruce jerked his finger toward the ceiling. Whatever it was hid on the hill above the cave entrance. A pair of demons flew by, a hundred yards in the air. Diana frowned.

"It's not them. They don't think, they just attack," she whispered. "They don't have the brains to make an ambush. If they knew we were here, they'd be storming the entrance."

Batman looked up at the ceiling, then out at the sky. "We'd be in a bad position if we left the cave, not knowing where exactly it was, or even what it is." He glanced at her thoughtfully. "What about bait?"

Diana shook her head. "With my powers, I could run fast enough, but if we don't know what it is..." She trailed off when Batman grinned.

He pointed out at the flying demons, which were circling outside. "I meant them."

"Oh." Diana looked at them, considered. "If we shot them down from here, whatever it is might go after their bodies. Would it be far enough, though?"

"If nothing else, it'll let us see what we are up against."

Diana nodded. "Okay then." She put her sword away, grabbed her bow from where she had left it leaning against the cave wall. She notched an arrow, watched as Batman loaded a bolt into the crossbow. "You take the right, I'll take the left."

They waited until the demons passed into their line of sight again, followed their flight, took aim. "Now," Diana said, and they let the arrows fly. The demons shrieked and fell, hitting the ground with dull thuds. The slithering changed to heavy footfalls; a shadow blocked the cave entrance, then Diana and Bruce saw the creature, twenty feet tall, covered in blue scales. Its long tail ended in a scorpion's stinger, from its chest grew two long necks with spitting, hissing heads.

"I think that's the Hydra. When you cut off one of its heads, two more grow in its place." She slung the bow over her shoulder, prepared her things to go. "Herakles defeated it during his labors, found out that the stumps have to be cauterized so more heads don't grow. One of its heads is immortal, not that it matters down here. Its breath is deadly." She stopped in the middle of picking up her bedroll, touched Batman's cape wonderingly, then shook herself, threw it to him. "It's a water creature, though. There must be water around here."

"I thought you knew the Underworld well." He whisked the cape around his shoulders and fastened it.

Diana tucked loose hairs back into her braid, put on her helmet. "No one except Lord Hades knows the Underworld well. It changes at his whim." She smiled reassuringly at him. "But these are the winter months, so his wife is here, and he's in a better mood than normal. We don't have to worry about him suddenly creating a bottomless pit under our feet."

"How encouraging," he said dryly. Diana grinned.

She looked out of the cave again. The Hydra was leaving, heading to the right. "We'll go the other way," she said. They might have to detour for an hour or so, but better than running into the monster and trying to fight it.

They left a few minutes later after downing a hurried breakfast, when the sound of the Hydra's footsteps were barely audible in the distance.

***

Diana was enjoying this, Batman realized. Another demon flew at them, claws extended; She shot an arrow through its eye with disturbing precision. Her face was rigid with tension and concentration as she fired arrow after arrow, but Batman could see the delight she was getting from it. Not from the killing--if what they were doing could be called killing, since the demons revived in a short time--but from the fight. There were no politics here, no baby steps, no mincing around differing viewpoints and moral makeups; this was battle, pure and simple. No right or wrong to be considered, no shades of gray. They had to kill the demons or be killed.

Batman cut off a demon's head with Diana's sword. He had to admit he was enjoying it, too. He'd much rather have the Joker in his hands and in jail, would rather be in Gotham than fighting demons in the Greek Underworld, but he couldn't ignore the pleasure derived from letting his body do what he had trained it to do, without worrying about hurting bystanders, or accidentally killing a criminal. Or deliberately killing one. He felt he should be concerned about that, too; killing these demons might make him more likely to strike a murderous blow without thinking about it, if the action became too normal to him, but in this realm, those concerns seemed out of place.

Diana lowered her bow, her eyes a fiery blue. Her gaze skimmed the corpses lying around them. "I think that is all of them. For now."

Bruce stuck her sword upright in the sand, pulled some high tension wire from his belt. "Would it slow them down if we tied them?"

"It should," Diana said.

Bending over the demon he had just beheaded, he looped the thin wire around its hands and feet, then pulled it tight, breathing through his mouth. The demons reminded him of a cross between a monkey, hyena and vulture, and they smelled like death.

"They will probably panic when they realize they are tied," Diana spoke from where she was binding another creature. "They don't have the brains to reason their way out of this; we might actually make it to Hades' palace before they release themselves." She stood, brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. "There isn't any shelter tonight; we will be crossing the asphodel fields. No caves. We'll hear them coming if they do escape."

Diana had outlined her plan to him earlier: she was going to ask Hades to let her confront Ariadne, find out the counterspell, then tell Hades they would rid the Underworld of the Joker if he would allow them transport to the Styx. She had assured him that the god would grant her request, since his wife had returned from Olympus recently and Diana had been a friend of Persephone's during her tenure as the Goddess of Truth. Batman didn't like counting on the mercurial whims of a Greek god, but, if things went as Diana hoped, it would be their best option to succeed in both of their quests: to break the spell and to find the Joker before he swam the Styx.

The demon he was tying twitched; he speared it with the sword, and frowned. Diana would have had to face these things by herself, and had known that when she made plans to travel here. She shouldn't have come alone. He had to admire her determination and courage, even if he didn't like that she had kept the knowledge from him.

His mouth twitched. Most of the other JLAers probably said the same things about him on a daily basis. In some ways, he and Diana were very much alike.

Except, he remembered, she had broken the spell, and he hadn't. He looked up at her, where she was holding a demon's hands together in preparation to secure them. "You are no longer under the spell, Diana."

She hesitated for an instant, then continued trussing the demon. "No," she said. "I'm not." She finished, stood.

He looked around. That had been the last demon. "How?"

Diana looked off into the horizon. "We should go."

Gritting his teeth, he replied, "We'll talk on the way."

Batman kept her sword; it had been more handy than the staff he'd chosen before he realized he'd be required to use lethal force. She gave him the scabbard, shouldered her gear, and began walking toward the towering figure of Hades' palace.

He pushed his cowl back from his face, wiped sweat from his brow with his cape. He kept stride with her easily, despite her long steps and apparent attempt to keep a pace that would prohibit conversation. "Diana?"

She stopped, swung around to face him, looked him in the eyes. "Bruce, I don't want to lie to you. I'm a miserable liar, but the truth at this time would be burdensome to you. Please, trust me," she beseeched. "Trust me and know that what happened is nothing that I did, or an action I performed that you could have repeated. I would not keep that from you." She broke eye contact, looked toward Hades' mountain. "Although I doubt it will be kept from you long," she muttered sadly.

He frowned. "Is this truth going to endanger you, Diana?" Her last words hinted that she dreaded something that would happen at the palace. That would explain her secrecy, her desire to travel alone. If she had to sacrifice something for the counterspell, or do something that would imperil her associates, her loyalty would make her tread this journey alone. She had done so before, when a prophecy foretold the death of the JLA. She had taken their place, disabled their ability to help her, prepared to sacrifice herself. And she had died, he remembered. For an instant.

He wouldn't let her do it again. Compared to letting her sacrifice herself, the spell was preferable. Here, without her powers to aid her, he would have the advantage should he be forced to physically stop her. Although, he told himself, she had the advantage of knowledge.

She was shaking her head. "No danger. Actually, I find this truth to be beautiful." Her eyes glowed in the diffused light of the Underworld. "But I know that you would not."

"You do not give me the chance to decide that for myself." His voice was harsh.

Hers was gentle. She reached up, placed her hand against his cheek. "No, I don't. Because you've already decided, Bruce. This is something that you've told me before." Her palm scraped against his whisker rough jaw when she removed her hand. She smiled, and turned, started walking again.

His brow furrowed. What was he supposed to say to that? He caught up with her, tried to think of something he'd told her was a burden. But when? And under what circumstances had he said it? "You're a stubborn woman, Diana."

She grinned. "Thank you."

"I could make you tell me," he growled, disgruntled, but not angry. He did trust her.

"With Bat-torture techniques?" She shot him an amused glance.

He was half considering it. "No, by being Bruce Wayne for the rest of this trip."

She laughed. "If you mean the Bruce Wayne from the charity auction or your other public appearances, I'd consider that torture. I like the other one, though."

He raised an eyebrow. "The other one? You actually like the Bat?" He was well aware that his darker personality was hardly friendly.

She examined the sky's color, looked for more demons. "No, I understand the Bat, and respect him, like to work with him. But I mean the other Bruce Wayne." She smiled. "And now I'm picking up your habit of referring to these things as if they aren't you."

He stared at her. "Diana, there's Bruce Wayne and Batman. Not three."

She stopped at pointed at a gray, wavering line in the distance. "That's the asphodel. We're making good time, unless he's changed things completely." She turned to him. "Which one are you? Bruce Wayne or Batman?"

She had asked him that before. "Both."

"That's what you said earlier, but I disagree. I don't accept that postmodern schizophrenia idea that you can be two or three people in different roles without being a whole individual." She resumed walking.

Behind her back, Batman grinned. The Princess didn't accept something, so therefore it must not be true. He'd plowed through Frederic Jameson's essays about postmodern schizophrenia before, not to examine himself but to gain further insight into criminal behavior. Villains, at times, were snobs, and conducted themselves according to one critical theory or another. It was no surprise that Diana, who came from a culture rooted in ancient beliefs, would have a quibble or two with postmodernism.

He was curious about her opinion of his personality, though. And, he thought, there was something to be said about disagreeing with Diana, even if he wasn't convinced she was wrong; it was entertaining, at the very least. "Then what is your theory, Princess?"

"That there is something in between the Bat and Bruce Wayne, and that's what you really are." She reached into her bag, pulled out a bagel, and smiled. "Donna must have refilled our supplies. When she runs out of food in the apartment, though, we will probably get take-out Chinese food and pizza stuffed in here."

Batman grimaced. Hopefully they'd be back before it came to that. "What's in between?"

Diana frowned thoughtfully. "Simply 'Bruce' would be the best way to put it. Have you ever notice that you always add the 'Wayne' when referring to your more human side?"

He nodded. It was necessary for distance between the Bat and Bruce Wayne. It made his alter-ego seem less personal, and therefore he'd be less inclined to mix the two up in a public setting. Protecting his identity was imperative. "Why do you think Wayne is more human?" he asked, although he himself considered the Bat his less human side.

She shot him a disbelieving glance. "You know he is, because you allow imperfections in him. They are there so that you can also remain Batman, but they lend Wayne the ability to exercise human fallibility."

"How so?" He knew, but hearing it from her was fascinating.

"Bruce Wayne breaks women's hearts so that the Batman can save their lives. Bruce Wayne is lazy so that Batman can work. He's indulgent so that you can be alone, be without excess. Batman couldn't exist without Bruce Wayne."

"That's true, but the opposite is also." He knew that with certainty. When Bane had broken his back, he'd been forced to face life without the Bat. He wouldn't accept it, had needed to be Batman.

She tilted her head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps. I am more inclined to believe, however, that without Batman Bruce Wayne would simply function differently. He would be what bridges the Bat and Bruce Wayne now, the in-between."

"The simply Bruce." He wondered if this was how she thought of herself. Simply Diana between the Wonder Woman, Princess and ambassador. It would make sense that she applied her theories about herself to others.

"Exactly. Bruce Wayne persuades, Batman forces. Bruce Wayne adopted Dick, became a father to him. Batman uses him as a sidekick in his mission. Bruce Wayne allows himself to love, but Batman won't allow himself to be loved. Bruce Wayne and Batman are opposites in so many ways; something has to stand between them. Something has to be the individual, be the core. That's the simply Bruce." She regarded him, in his costume but not his mask. "I think you might be him right now."

He looked down at himself. "And you think that both Batman and Bruce Wayne have grown from this Bruce?"

"Yes, they are both a part of the deeper man, who functions through them."

He smiled. "You sound like Freud. Id, ego, superego. Bruce, Bruce Wayne, Batman. So, what is simply Bruce?"

She curled her lip. "I hate Freud." She would, Batman thought. Diana continued. "I know you think he is a scared young boy, and yes, that boy is why you became Batman and Bruce Wayne, but I also think that boy would have grown up by now to stand for something else: Justice." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You think I'm insane."

He knew insane. "No, I think you are being Diana." She was idealistic--it was just like her to boil someone's personality down to one virtue. A virtue with a capital letter. "I think there's more to it than that, however."

She snorted. "Of course there is. Just like there is more to me than Truth."

"The princess, Wonder Woman, the amazon, the ambassador, simply Diana, and so on?" He hid a smile. He had been right, she did think of herself the same way she thought of him.

"Yes," she said, then muttered, "but no longer a princess, and barely even Wonder Woman."

He heard her, decided not to comment. He would not be able to convince her she was Wonder Woman if she doubted it, just as he knew no one could convince him he was not Batman.

"And Clark is Clark, Kal, Superman, the reporter?" he asked, honestly wondering if she knew the truth about Clark. If she let herself see the truth.

Diana was laughing. "You can't stand that I call him 'Kal,' can you? You think it takes away from his humanity," she said, and shook her head. "But Clark is Clark. That's it. Clark is Superman because he feels it is his duty, and because he simply is Clark. We strive to be Wonder Woman and Batman, but Superman is Clark. Clark doesn't try to be anything."

She did see it. "Then why call him Kal?" She was right, he didn't like the name. It seemed equivalent to a pet name for Superman, reminded him of socialites who called him 'Brucie.'

She looked at him, her stride not faltering for a second. "Very simply, it's my way of not calling him Superman. He's a friend, and in public I call him by a more personal name. Since I work with him so often as Superman, I simply have come to think of him as Kal rather than Clark."

Batman didn't reply. She had been honest, but he also knew there was more to it than that. Kal represented something she could be with; Clark had Lois. In their shared dream back in Gateway City, it had been Wonder Woman with Superman -- Kal -- not Clark. Every time she spoke that name, it seemed to Bruce a wish for something out of her reach. Something she identified with: Kal-El was a hero from outside of Earth, Wonder Woman was a heroine from outside of Man's World.

Diana continued, oblivious to his thoughts, "And before you ask, Clark does stand for something: Truth, Justice and everything else. He's bigger than we are, or could ever hope to be."

Batman glanced up at the darkening sky. Red, like Superman's cape. The piece of Wonder Woman's uniform that covered her heart. His own blood.

It would be night soon.

***

The full moon had risen above them, shedding silvery light on the ghostly, pallid asphodel flowers. Selene, the moon goddess, descended into the Underworld once a month during Earth's new moon, in the form of Hecate, Goddess of the Dark of the Moon. She was also the Goddess of the Crossways, to whom the Joker would have made sacrifices before he could enter the dark realm. If Hecate was at Hades' palace, she would tell him of the clown's crossing, and Hades' could pass the information on to Diana. It would, she thought, give them more certainty as to where and when the Joker had entered the Underworld.

She turned, looking at Batman, who was examining one of the flowers with a small flashlight. By her calculations, he hadn't slept in three days. She was exhausted just from that day's travel; she could imagine how tired he must be. "We'll stop here for night. If we cross these fields under the moon, we'll be an obvious target to any creature roaming tonight. At least on the soil, we won't stand out as sharply."

Batman looked up. "And the demons?"

"If they manage to break their bonds, they would be a problem," she said. The demons sight didn't depend on contrast and moonlight. They sensed the heat of their victims. "Unless your cape is lined against infra-red detection."

"Cape, cowl and body armor. Too many snipers have IR scopes these days," Batman said, and grinned.

Diana smiled back, considering the best course of action. Batman needed sleep--that was her first priority. Her concern for his well-being aside, he wouldn't be as sharp or function as well without sleep. "We'll roll out the bedrolls, then cover ourselves with your cape. That will provide maximum visual camouflage because of the darkness of the cape, and IR camo from the air against the demons. I'll keep watch."

"For two hours."

"My two hours will match yours from last night."

Bruce frowned. "Diana, this is not a tit for tat situation. My body is accustomed to fatigue. Yours isn't."

"I've gotten more sleep in the last twenty four hours than you have had in seventy two, Bruce." Then added: "And don't think just because I usually have powers that I don't experience fatigue. My Amazonian trainers were well aware of my capabilities, and made me work accordingly and in proportion to a typical Amazon. In any case, I can rest my body fully and remain alert." Every warrior knew how to take rest where she could find it.

Bruce stared at her, then seemed to come to a decision and detached the cowl from his cape. "You'll need this if you are keeping watch, then."

Diana caught the mask, a little surprised by his easy capitulation. "Don't agree now and then wake in two hours, Bruce. Get four hours of sleep."

He smiled a little. "Your distrust of me is showing, Princess."

"So are the bags under your eyes, Batman," she replied. "And it's not distrust, it's experience. You do what you think is best." She spread out her bedroll, patted it down.

He did the same, then took off his cape. "Because I'm always right," he said, and a startled laugh escaped her. She hadn't expected self-deprecating humor from him, not when it was about the Batman, anyway. Bruce Wayne, yes. But she'd never heard him poke fun at his darker image.

Unless, of course, he was serious. For some reason, that seemed even funnier to her. She chuckled, imagining the arrogance of someone who believed he was always right. Either way, whether he'd meant it or not, she couldn't deny that in most cases, he really was right.

He handed her the cape, then lay down on his bedroll, linking his hands behind his head. She pulled on the cowl, then wrapped the cape around herself and sat down, verifying that it hid her body entirely. She draped the excess material of the cape over him, making sure that his head--the only part of his body not protected with the IR repressing uniform--was covered. It would be slightly stuffy for him, but better than leaving his head exposed.

She could feel his breath against her leg under the cape; it was steady, even. He probably had the ability to fall asleep at an instant's notice, she mused, much like she was able, and many of the warriors that she knew. It would be a light sleep, so that if he needed to wake quickly he could, but a sleep nonetheless.

She waited, shifting her body occasionally so that her limbs would not go numb. The night was silent. Beside her, Bruce slept. She wondered what he looked like while sleeping; she'd seen him unconscious before, but not asleep. Would his face be calm, relaxed? Or tortured by dark thoughts and dreams?

Her own dreams had been twisted lately. Dreams of the war, of her mother, dying. Of saying time and again the last words she was certain her mother had heard. Not words of comfort and love, but words of condemnation, disapproval. She tilted her head, looked up at the night sky. The moon, no stars. Down here, one would never realize there were other suns, supporting other worlds. Down here, the world of life barely seemed to be a consideration at all.

Hippolyta would be in the Elysian Fields, Diana was certain. She had been, without a doubt, one of the greatest heroes the Greeks had ever seen. She would be with her lost Amazon sisters, Odysseus, Jason, Achilles. She would be, Diana thought, happy. The words of her selfish daughter would not give her pause in Paradise.

Or so Diana prayed.

Diana would meet her mother in the Elysian Fields when death finally took her, Diana knew. Still, she hoped that the path to the Joker would lead them through the Elysian Fields, so that she could make sure that her mother knew what Diana really felt. So that she could take back her last words, replace them with words of love.

She looked down at Bruce's cape covered form. He'd never had the opportunity of another chance with his parents. Their circumstances were different--she regretted what had been said, he regretted what hadn't been done, the years without his family--but no matter the circumstances, she knew she was lucky for even the smallest chance of seeing her parent after death.

Even if it meant that he would be a different man, that she would never have met or worked with him, fell in love with him, she wished he'd had that chance.

The moon, which had hovered over Hades' palace most of the night, finally began its descent. Hecate returning to Earth, becoming Selene once more. The sky reddened, then turned pink. She swept the cape from Bruce's face, touched his shoulder, but his eyes were already open. She wondered if he had slept at all, or, like her, just rested.

He sat up, stretched, then methodically checked the compartments on his belt, as if verifying nothing had slipped out during the night. She admired his discipline, his precision. He rivaled most of her Amazon sisters in his constant readiness for battle.

They ate a silent breakfast on the move, each content with his or her own thoughts. The asphodel flowers, petals closed under the sunless sky, were eerily still; the Underworld had no wind to make them sway and dance. The seemed a dread parody of the colorful flowers on Earth, with their transparent stalks and gray petals. They reminded Diana of a scene from The Wizard of Oz, one of the first films she had seen when she'd entered Patriarch's World, in which Dorothy fell asleep in a field of poppies. And if she was Dorothy, she thought now, would that make Batman the Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, or the Tin Man? The Wizard? Or, she grinned, Toto?

And that would make the Joker the Wicked Witch, she supposed. Unless Ariadne had claimed that title. Either way, it would take more than a bucket of water for she and Bruce to complete their journey.

Hades' mountain was closer now; they only had an hour or so of their hike remaining. Not really a mountain, Hades' had built a palace in a replica of Mt. Olympus, but with black marble. He had been angry that he had been forced to live in the Underworld all year, and so created his own version of Olympus. The structure was, to Diana's eye, both magnificent and repellent. A beautiful palace created by a god's envy and pride.

Diana had no illusions about her gods; she'd been one of them, seen them in their true characters. They could be greedy and thoughtless, yet also generous and kind. They were, Diana knew, more human than they would ever admit, and more inhumane than they would ever realize. She slid a glance toward Bruce, who was eyeing the palace as if memorizing and mapping its form. She didn't blame him for his disdain of her gods; to him, they were much more powerful and less responsible than Superman, or Captain Marvel, or herself. If she or Superman had displayed the destructive behaviors of her gods, Batman would have taken them out long ago, friendship be damned.

But they had also created the Amazons and herself, given her life and purpose; to fight evil, to be their champion, to promote peace and prosperity. Despite their pettiness, they deserved her thanks and fealty; much in the same way a daughter still loved a selfish parent.

"How long will it take us to get the information that we need?" Batman said.

"I think that Hades' will receive us quickly; it might take a day, or a day and a half." Which, Diana decided, was not so bad. Twenty-four hours here was one fourth of a day on Earth. They wouldn't lose much time. To Donna, who was back in New York, they had only been gone about twelve hours.

"Will the Joker have made it to the Styx by then?"

If he had made it at all, Diana thought. He might have run into the same demons and variety of monsters that they had. "I don't know," she said. "We'll have a better idea when we find out where he entered the realm."

"Will Hades fulfill our requests?" Batman smiled. "We won't have to dance and sing or play a lyre, will we?"

Diana grinned. "Worried about your image?" She shook her head. "My history with Lord Hades has been rocky at best; however, I am a friend of Lady Persephone." She tilted her head, considered him carefully. "You must have brushed up on your Greek myths before you left. Orpheus and his lyre."

"Briefly. Enough to know that I don't want to end up like him."

Diana chuckled. "Because he failed in his mission to the Underworld or because of his ultimate end?" Traveling to the Underworld to get his wife, Eurydice, Orpheus had played his lyre for Hades, then failed to trust the god's word and lost the chance to bring his wife back to life. While mourning for her, the musician had taken up with a group of young, nubile boys, then been torn apart by the boys' jealous wives on a night of Dionysus' feasting.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Both. Dick and Robin will remain safe from me."

Diana burst out laughing. When she could breathe again, she told him tales of more successful forays to the Underworld. She recited them poetically, in the old style, just as she would nearing the end of a journey with her Amazon sisters, when there was no need for silence; she only made it through two before they reached the gates of Hades' palace.

The gates were heavy, with ornate scrollwork and enormous locks. Two guards, with leathery wings and an array of weapons, blocked their entrance; a porter, speaking ancient Greek, bid them to state their intentions.

Diana saw Bruce insert a JLA translator into his ear before she replied in the same language. "I am Diana of the Amazons, champion of the Olympian gods, seeking an audience with my Lord Hades."

The porter peered suspiciously through empty eye sockets at Batman, who had replaced his cowl and mask a mile back. "And your companion?"

"He is the Batman, the Dark Knight of Earth, defender and champion of Gotham City." Batman's mouth twitched at her description. "He also seeks conference with Lord Hades."

The porter looked them up and down, then nodded and said, "Very well. I will report and return with Lord Hades' reply. Wait here." With a click of his heels he disappeared behind the gate.

She looked at Batman.

The Dark Knight of Earth? he mouthed the words to her.

She shrugged. "Better than 'Bruce Wayne, Entrepreneur and Womanizer,'" she said, her voice low.

"Better than 'Simply Bruce?'" His bland expression belied the humor in his voice.

"Nothing's better than him," she said, then turned her back on him as the porter returned.

He motioned for the guards to throw the gates open, then bowed obsequiously. "Lord Hades welcomes you to his palace, Lady Diana and Master Batman. He regrets that he is unavailable to receive you at this moment, and urges that you rest and refresh yourselves until he summons you." Diana smiled a little. That sounded more like Persephone than Hades. "Will you require one room or two?"

"One," Diana said firmly. She wanted there to be no chance of being separated from Batman. His slight nod was an indication that he agreed. They followed the porter past room after room of banquet halls and parlors, up too many flights of stairs to count, encountering a variety of humans, creatures and different varieties of demons, who regarded the two living humans with varying expressions of disgust, interest and indifference. She noted that Batman held two batarangs in his hand, and hid a smile. Always prepared, always paranoid. She had her own hand on the hilt of her sword.

Their room was almost as large as her apartment in New York, decorated with friezes depicting ancient stories, sitting and lounging areas each with a different theme. The porter bowed again. "Your bath is being drawn as we speak, my lady." He pointed to where two demons poured heated water into a golden tub standing a few feet from the bed. "Refreshments are being brought, they should arrive shortly. Clothing, should you need some for your audience with Lord Hades, is available in the armoire." He bowed a final time, and left, followed by the demons. They closed the door behind them. Batman locked it.

Diana let out a huge breath, flopped back onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. Batman remained by the door, setting, she realized, a trap should anything force its way in. She grinned up at the ceiling, then frowned. Above the bed was a painting of Icarus falling from the sky. The artist had caught the boy's surprise, panic and dread as he lost control, lost his life.

Not the most uplifting sight.

She sat up. Batman was examining the rest of the room, checking the windows, the doors to the columned balcony, the corners and crannies. He even, she realized with a small giggle, tapped on a statue of Aphrodite to make sure that it was marble, not some kind of posing creature. Finally, as if he was satisfied with the room's security, he pushed back his cowl and looked out one of the windows.

She began removing her armor, intending to take advantage of the bath.

Bruce glanced at her when her breastplate thudded against the rug, then turned back to the window. "The view is different than it really is outside."

Diana shimmied out of her plated metal skirt, slid off her boots, and joined him at the window. Instead of black sand and fields of asphodel, Hades had created the illusion of a lush paradise for the palace dwellers. Waterfalls abounded, colorful birds soared the skies. Even as they watched, however, it shifted to a desert oasis.

"Eternity is a long time," Diana said. "Especially if you have only one thing at which to look." She watched with him for a few minutes longer, then turned away. "I'm going to bathe. I stink like a Minotaur's den."

Batman continued to stare out of the window as she stripped off the remainder of her uniform and climbed into the tub; she groaned in pleasure as the heat sank into her tired muscles. She closed her eyes and leaned back, letting the water soak her hair, feeling the grit of travel wash away. She let out a sigh of contentment.

Bruce chuckled; she opened her eyes to find him sitting on the bed, removing his boots. He had already taken off the cape and top of his body armor, leaving him in a white undershirt and uniform bottoms. "Reminder to self to update Protocols," he said. "Wonder Woman's real weakness is a hot bath."

And men who work in caves and have bodies like him, she added silently, but replied, "Amazons know where the pleasures of life lay. Hot baths and thick steaks." She dunked her head, came up and wiped water from her eyes. "And beating the hell out of anyone who dares cross us."

He kicked off his other boot. She hoped his pants would be next, but he leaned back against the pillows instead. "How long before we'll be called?"

"At least a couple of hours. You can get some sleep if you like," she said, but he was shaking his head.

"I'm fine. I'll relax, but no sleep."

A knock sounded at the door. "The food," Diana said. "We can't eat any, but it would be rude to refuse it." They didn't want to offend their host by rejecting his hospitality.

He nodded, then stood, grabbed her sword from where she'd dropped it, and carefully opened the door. The servant bustled in and out, after setting the heavy tray on a low table. Diana sniffed, then sighed. "That smells much better than what Donna has been giving us."

Bruce examined the contents, and grinned. "One of your pleasures. Thick steaks."

Diana pretended to whimper, and sank deeper into the water. "At least I have my hot bath." She lifted a foot out of the water, wiggled her toes. "Will you be joining me?" she asked before it occurred to her that she shouldn't. The tub was huge, and Amazons frequently bathed together. It was a social experience for her, nothing sexual implied or attached.

Not that she had ever asked Superman, Green Lantern, or any of her other male comrades to join her in a tub, she thought, and grimaced. She knew there were differences in Man's World, had always remembered to keep her habits on Themyscira from spilling over into her life in America, where people--especially the men--would consider them forward or strange. Somehow, however, that distance had broken down with Batman. It wasn't just her feelings for him, she knew, but the place they were in. The Underworld felt more like Themyscira, in history and culture, than Man's World did.

"And you call me a rakish seducer, a womanizer," Bruce said good-naturedly. "I'll wait my turn, Princess."

Disappointment battled with relief that he hadn't thought she was trying to seduce him again. Not that seducing him sounded so awful, she thought, watching him through lowered lashes. Just that she knew he wouldn't appreciate her efforts.

She smiled mischievously and began soaping her hair. There was something to be said for the days when Amazons took what they wanted, and who they wanted. Progress had a lot for which to answer.

***

He finally knew what the poets meant when they spoke of 'terrible beauty.'

Persephone's radiance made him want to close his eyes, to protect himself from her gaze. He considered, for a moment, lowering the torch shields of his cowl against the sight of her, but he knew it wasn't actual light that made his eyes and brain hurt. He glanced at Diana, and wondered if the goddess affected her the same way.

She knelt before Hades' and Persephone's thrones, dressed in a sweeping white gown that she had found in the room. Batman remained standing. Diana had not suggested he change his own uniform, for which he was grateful. When Diana spoke, her tone was formal, never hinting at a familiarity with the gods in front of her.

"Lord Hades, you have honored us with your attention. We have traveled through Your Majesty's realm, seeking your advice and help; which, in your wisdom and great power, only you can provide."

Hades nodded slightly, then looked at Batman. Bruce remained silent. He hated this; waiting, dependent upon the will of a bad-tempered, too-powerful 'god'. Diana stood.

Hades voice thrummed through Bruce's body. "And your companion?"

"The Dark Knight of Gotham City, Batman. He does not speak the gods' language, but he can hear and understand it, my lord. He is assisting me in my quest, and I am assisting him--with, of course, your good will and assistance." Diana had told Batman that the gods could speak and understand English, but that they would never deign to utter it.

Hades leaned forward. "Your companion looks as though he belongs in my realm; indeed, his heart is such that I would not hesitate to name him one of my own warlords." The god sat back in his chair. "But I feel the disdain you have for me, Dark Knight. I would prefer that you show it openly." Hades waved his hand; Bruce's mask and cowl disappeared. Batman said nothing, did nothing. "Do not assume to hide yourself from me, mortal." He met Batman's eyes, tried to stare him down.

The room was silent for several interminable minutes. Finally, Hades looked away and commanded, "Tell me your request, Diana of the Amazons." Batman detected the slight relief in Diana's posture. She hadn't been as positive of Hades as she had seemed.

"My lord, the long-time deceiver of the Amazons, Ariadne, has recently entered your realm. Before she crossed, she took the form of the great sorceress, Magala, friend to the Amazons and the gods. In that form, she placed an enchantment on me and my companion. I request that you bring her here, so that we might gain from her the knowledge to release the spell."

"Why should I inconvenience myself with your mortal concerns, Amazon?"

Batman's mouth tightened. He hated this even more, hated to see her prostrate herself before this arrogant scum. He felt Persephone's eyes on him, kept his face expressionless.

"My lord, I have served as the champion of the Olympians willingly, with great reverence and honor to you and your siblings. I recently fought alongside you, reclaiming the glory of Olympus when the Titans tried to claim it for their own. For these things, I ask this boon."

Hades tapped his fingers together; it sounded like the beating of drums. "You ask many things, Amazon. Most recently, to see your mother."

Batman stepped forward; without taking her eyes from Hades, Diana motioned for him to stop. "Indeed, my lord, I entreated your honored niece, the Lady Artemis, to give me a moment with my mother. In her infinite wisdom, she did not grant my request."

"Then why should I?"

Diana played what Batman saw as their trump card. "Because, my lord, my companion and I would rid your realm of the mortal scourge known as the Joker."

Hades frowned. Silence stretched across the room once more, broken, after a few moments, by an exasperated Persephone. "By Gaea, husband, you've been pondering for days the best way to rid ourselves of that mortal; bring the witch here."

Hades glanced at his wife, smiled slightly. "Very well."

Ariadne appeared before him, her back to Diana and Bruce. He could see that wherever she'd come from, it hadn't been pleasant. Her clothes her torn and lined with soot, her skin cracked and peeling.

She saw Hades, fell to her knees. "My lord! I do not know why you have seen fit to remove me from Tartarus, but I submit myself to you. I am your humble servant."

Hades' voice was cold. "You are my humble servant in Tartarus as well, witch. Stand," he commanded. Ariadne did, looking behind her as she complied. She saw Diana and frowned. When she saw Batman, a pleased, calculating light entered her eyes. Hades continued. "Ariadne, you have placed a spell upon the champion of the Olympian gods. Explain yourself."

"Yes, Lord Hades." She took a deep breath. "The Amazons have always held me in hate, my lord, accuse me of murdering the sister of Queen Hippolyta, Antiope. The truth is, my lord, Antiope was a usurper who laid claim to a man who had already promised himself to me. I loved Theseus, Lord Hades. I killed Antiope so that I could recover my rightful place at his side."

Murder still, Batman thought. Hardly justifiable. But Hades nodded. "And the spell?"

As if sensing her story had swayed things her way with Hades, Ariadne's voice became more beseeching still. "My Lord, for thousands of years the Amazons spoke ill of me, for something I had done in the name of love. They held their ideals of peace and love, yet they despised me for loving Theseus. I devised the spell as a way of making them learn about love for a man. I thought if Diana, champion of the Amazons, would fall in love with a man, feel the despair of loving someone who would not have her, she might finally know my pain, and clear my name." Ariadne looked at Diana, smiled. "And, my lord, if I may add, there is no need to remove the spell from the Amazon. She has broken it already by falling in love with this mortal."

Bruce looked sharply at Diana.

So did Hades and Persephone. "Is this true, Diana?" the goddess asked.

She didn't glance at Bruce. "Yes, my lady." She stepped forward. "But the spell has yet to be removed from my companion, as he does not love me. It is a false desire he feels, Lord Hades. He has had no part in the history of the Amazons and this witch, and does not deserved this punishment."

Ariadne laughed. "And now you know, Diana, this pain. Batman's reaction tells me that you had not told him, were too ashamed of your love." Batman fought the dreadful exhilaration that swept through him. Ariadne didn't understand Diana, he thought. She hadn't hid her love out of shame, but to save him from being conflicted about her feelings. Diana would never think of love with shame. What had she said? I find it to be beautiful.

Ariadne was continuing. "You confided in me--in your dear Magala--following your encounter with this one and the Superman in your damned invisible craft. I sensed then your feelings, Amazon, that despite your dream with Superman, you had found your true match in this Dark Knight, he who stood for the truth as you did, who you believed had the same core of strength, loyalty and honor as you do, even if his approach was darker than yours. He made you face your truths in that dream. But you also knew he would never feel the same, so you hid your feelings even from yourself. And so I planned, and waited." She turned back to Hades. "My lord, what is done is done. I can not remove the effects of the spell from the Amazon; I can not erase her love. I have accomplished what I wanted. I can, if you wish, remove the spell from the other."

Diana kneeled again before Batman could stop her. He wouldn't have her subject herself to this for him. She shouldn't have to kneel for him. He would find a way to break the damn spell without selfish gods and murdering witches. "Please, my lord. Let her remove the spell," she pleaded.

Hades considered, said finally, "Very well."

Ariadne turned to Batman, a triumphant smile on her face, lifted her arms, said words his translator could not interpret. She froze suddenly, began laughing. "This one, too, has broken the spell, Lord Hades." Diana turned to Bruce, disbelief in her eyes. "I did not see it before, because he has hidden it even from himself. Oh, this is better than I'd ever dreamed, Amazon. Greater pain than loving someone who does not love you, is loving someone who loves you in return, but will never let himself be with you. Forever separated."

Diana's lips thinned with anger. "You lie, witch." She turned to Hades. "May I use my lasso, force the truth and the spell from her, my lord?"

Batman knew, even before Hades denied the request, that the god's pride would never let him consider that Ariadne had lied to him. Which she must have done.

He was not in love.

Their visit had not been for nothing, however, there was still the Joker. They would find a way to break the spell elsewhere.

Because, he told himself again, he was not in love. He glanced at Diana; she was looking at him with concern, regret.

Sadness.

He hardened himself against that look, watched at Hades blinked Ariadne away and stood, holding out his hand to his wife.

"Let's go to dinner, shall we? We'll discuss your plans to capture this Joker."

***

How they were going to discuss it, Batman didn't know. The table at which they sat was easily five times longer than the longest in Wayne Manor, and every seat was taken. At one end, Diana sat to Hades' right. At the other, Batman was at Persephone's right hand. In front of both Bruce and Diana sat their dinner plates, untouched.

He kept his eyes on Diana; she returned his gaze often, when the god did not command her attention. The glances she sent him were probably intended to be reassuring, he thought. He could read her well enough, however, to tell that she was furious.

And she was in love with him. He could barely comprehend it, wouldn't even have believed it had she not confirmed it herself.

"He goads her endlessly, my husband does."

Bruce turned, tried to look at Persephone, ended up staring at her shoulder. She gave him a headache. He noted that her own plate was untouched.

She saw where he glanced, smiled. "I, like you, do not eat in the Underworld."

He knew the myth. She had eaten pomegranate seeds, sealed her fate that she must spend several months of the year with her husband. "You are already bound to this realm," he stated carefully. With solicitous responses, he might be able to get the information he needed from her about the Joker. He doubted that at the other end of the table Hades was being forthcoming.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile sadly. "Bound, yes. I would not give him reason to make my stay longer, however." She smelled of wildflowers and freshly turned earth. "But do not misunderstand me, Dark Knight, I love my husband. But this darkness is no place for me." She nodded her head at Diana. "That one, she is stronger, better suited to this kind of life. She can withstand the darkness, without making it a part of herself. And, if she does take some into herself, it only makes her inner strength grow."

He realized that the goddess was matchmaking and hid a smile.

Hades' voice roared through the hall suddenly. "My guests! The Amazon has agreed to entertain us with some poetry." Beside him, Diana stood, mouth set, eyes flashing.

Beside Batman, Persephone was shaking her head. "He will try to embarrass her, but he doesn't understand her any more than Ariadne did." She looked at Bruce. "I call her friend, as you do. And I, like you, am wishing now that she would set Hades in his place. But she can not." Batman wondered briefly if she could read his mind on a superficial level. That had been exactly what he had been thinking. She smiled. "No, I have just had eons of practice reading inscrutable faces, Sir Knight."

Hades smiled darkly, looked at Batman. "Diana, my wife loves Sappho's poetry. Why not recite to her the poem beginning, 'He is more than a hero?'"

Persephone sighed, then said loudly, "My lord, Sappho sits at the table with us. Why not have the poem read by its originator?"

Hades scowled, then said, "I believe the Amazon will recite it with more feeling, wife." He growled. "Speak, Amazon."

Diana bowed her head. "As you wish, my lord," she said tightly. She stared down the table at Persephone; when she began, her voice was warm, with no sign of her anger toward Hades.

A hush had fallen over the room, eyes turned to Batman as if realizing why Hades had wanted Diana to recite that specific poem. Diana's gaze met Bruce's, briefly, burning him with its intensity, before she turned to Hades. "These poems are well known by your guests, my lord. Perhaps I should recite something newer to entertain them and my lady? Perhaps from the English Bard, Shakespeare?"

"Barbaric language," Hades muttered loudly enough for all to hear.

"She is thinking of one that will reveal him to be a fool," Persephone whispered to Bruce, then said loudly, "I would like to hear it, my lord."

Batman smiled.

Diana began reciting the scene between the fool and his king from King Lear, lacing the lines with enough sarcasm to make their double meanings clear to the guests, but not, Batman realized, to Hades.

Persephone murmured, "Hades is too vain but to take her at the face meaning of this. Diana chose well." She leaned closer to Batman, said, "Let us speak of a different clown, Sir Knight. Hecate informed us that he crossed over three days ago. He has been traveling, first through the Wastes, then the Elysian Fields. He caused a stir there, and we were first alerted of his presence then, before Hecate arrived. Now he is nearing the River Styx."

"Can you or Hades transport Diana and myself to his location?"

Persephone shook her head. "I have no power here at all; Hades has no power to affect mortals, or he would have dealt with the Joker when he first heard of him. I can, however, supply you with our fastest horses. They will have you there in an hour. I will inform the stables to have them ready by daybreak."

"Not earlier, Persephone?" He didn't want to remain in this palace longer than was necessary.

She blinked. "No one has spoken my name to me in thousands of years, not since I came here the first time. How odd that I hear it now with your accent." Humor touched her lips. "I am the Maiden That Must Not Be Named. But I appreciate your lack of fear." She shook herself. "There is no light by which to guide the horses, Dark Knight. I could not guarantee your safety. Your Joker will not be traveling, either, so it makes no difference."

She didn't know the Joker, Batman thought, but didn't argue. Around them, the guests burst into laughter and clapped as Diana finished her recital.

Persephone stood. "My lord, I am retiring for the evening. I wish to escort our mortal guests to their rooms, bid my friends good evening."

Hades frowned, but said, "I was tiring of her presence anyway. Begone, Amazon, and Dark Knight."

Outside of the Great Hall, Persephone clasped Diana's forearms, kissed her warmly on the cheek. "My friend," she said. "How wonderful to see you, despite the setting and circumstances."

Diana smiled. "You bring light to any setting, my lady."

Persephone gestured to Batman. "I have made arrangements for you to find this clown of yours. Your knight will tell you of them. Until then, let's walk, and tell me tales of your Outer World."

Bruce trailed behind the two women, listening idly. Diana never mentioned her mother, which surprised him. He wondered if some part of her had plans to see her while she was in the Underworld.

They reached their room. Persephone looked inside, wrinkled her lip in annoyance. "He had you installed in a servants' quarters."

Diana laughed, and assured the goddess they were not offended. With a final kiss and embrace for Diana, Persephone left them. Bruce followed Diana into the room, re-set his traps, and performed another survey of the room's security. He took extra time; he was, he realized, avoiding a discussion with Diana about what he had learned in Hades' throne room.

He stopped his sweep of the room, looked at Diana, who was watching him from beside a roaring fireplace. No, he decided, he wouldn't avoid it. He would face it head on, take control of the situation at once.

"You love me. There is no hope for us, Diana." He didn't let himself feel anything.

She gazed at him steadily. "I know."

"I do not love you." He didn't.

She never wavered. "I know that as well. In any case, if you did, Ariadne was right. You not loving me is better than loving me and rejecting me."

"If you want to be sure of me, you can use your lasso." Not that he needed to be sure, but she was his friend, his comrade; she might want to know the truth. He didn't love her.

She shrugged. "There is no point. If Ariadne didn't lie, then you wouldn't believe what the lasso had to say, either, and if she did lie, we still have to break the spell on you."

"The lasso would not reveal love I don't feel."

"Of course it wouldn't, and for that I am glad." Diana took a deep breath. "If you loved me, yet stayed alone, I would be very angry with you." She turned to the side, mini-fires reflected in her eyes.

"Angry?" What right would she have to be angry? His temper sparked. He fought for control.

"For denying yourself something for which you fight."

He stepped up to her, forced her to look at him. "I don't fight for love, Diana. I fight for life, for people to live."

She tilted her head, eyes wide, face gentle. "You fight so that families don't lose each other. You fight because your mother and father will never be able to fulfill their promises of love to each other. You allow yourself the family, but not the love between a man and woman. You're a hypocrite, Bruce."

His words were hard. He had to end this, now. "Because I don't love you, I'm a hypocrite? Maybe I don't love you because I don't want to be your Lois Lane while you wait fifty years for the real one to die so that you can be with the man you fantasize about. I was there, remember, in your Wonderdome of fantasies."

She stood frozen, expression hurt, then angry. "That was the fantasy of a girl, Bruce, it accessed a fantasy from when I first entered Man's World. This is a woman." She smiled suddenly. "And I would be the Lois Lane in this relationship. Only with you in private, never in public, while I am the same person in both arenas. The only difference would be that she is with the man, I'd be with the hero."

Control. He would have to show her, she wouldn't listen. He couldn't love her. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Do you know what it would be like to be loved by that hero? If you could only have Batman?" He pushed her backwards until she was pressed against a wall, against a frieze depicting the fall of Troy, her head against the wooden horse's marble shoulder. He lifted her, lifted her gown; she wrapped her legs around him, helped him. He sank into her.

Her warmth grabbed at him, clutched at him; he closed himself off from it. "The. Batman. Diana. Cold. Hard. Fucks. Unfeeling. No. Love." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust into her. "Is this what you want from him?"

She was breathless, arching against him, taking him deeper. "Sometimes I'd want it this way," she breathed, met his eyes. "But this isn't all it would be, you know it isn't."

He stared down at her. He was buried inside her. He was using her cruelly, yet she held onto him, her face open, trusting. The face that he had seen happy, he'd seen cry. That had alternately been naive and wise, innocent and sensual, serious and full of humor. He'd seen her save millions of people with barely a lift of her finger, had seen her risk her own life to save one. She was strong, she was beautiful.

He was in love with her.

He leaned forward, rested his forehead against hers, closed his eyes. "No, that's not all it would be."

She lifted herself, sank back down. "Show me how else it would be."

He carried her to the bed. He was the Batman, but he wasn't thinking of Gotham when he removed her clothes. He was the Batman, but he wasn't thinking of the Joker when he lost himself in her. And when she called his name, it was the first time he'd heard his other name spoken silently behind it.

Bruce. Batman.

He was both. He could be both with her. He was both to her.

But, he realized later, holding her next to him, he couldn't have her and also have complete control. There was still the danger of slipping, of his lack of control spilling over into killing.

And if he didn't have complete control, he couldn't be Batman.

He pulled her to him tightly, listened to her even breaths as she slept.

It would be dawn soon.