IN DARKEST LIGHT

By Meljean Brook

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.

Chapter 3: The Light

Dick Grayson plopped down on the chair next to Barbara Gordon's desk and sighed heavily. He sighed again, louder, when he noticed that she hadn't been paying attention to his first one.

She looked up from her computer screen. "What?" She wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?"

"Me." He leaned over and pulled off a boot, grunting. "He's insane, Babs. In. Sane."

"The Joker? Of course he is." She glanced at a piece of equipment when it beeped softly, and hit a few buttons on her keyboard. The beeping stopped. "Get those boots out of here--god, you're all wet and stinky. Change out of your uniform in the bathroom or something."

Dick sat forward in the seat, waving a malodorous finger in front of her face. "Not Joker. Batman. Our dear beloved Bruce. You know Tim and I were going into the sewers, but do you know why?"

"Tell me before you permanently ruin that chair with the puddle you are creating," Barbara said, "then get out of here and change."

"Because we were checking up on a lead he had. 'Dick, I need you and Robin to check out this faint signal. It might be the first sign of the Joker that we'd been hoping for,' he says." Dick swiped a hand through his hair; droplets of water fell onto the desk. Barbara glared. "And you know what the signal was from? A toy. A dumb remote control boat that got caught in the sewers. Robin and I chased that thing all the way to 12th Street before we saw it and realized that the signal was moving, not because it was attached to a person, but because the boat was in the current of a bunch of scum." He tapped his finger on the desk, hard. "And I bet it was because he didn't think that she should be down in the sewers."

"Well, she is a princess. Or was," Barbara said. "And used to be a goddess. Would you send her down there?"

Dick leaned back in the chair. "I wouldn't presume to send her anywhere."

"My point exactly." Barbara turned back to her monitors. "Go change, then bring back a mop."

"Yes, ma'am," Dick stood and saluted her, but did as she said.

He returned ten minutes later, showered and in fresh jeans and t-shirt, carrying a sponge and a bottle of spray detergent.

"Good boy," she said when she saw the cleaning supplies, and smiled. "Now you smell like peaches."

"Yeah, well, it's to serve as a startling juxtaposition to my astounding manliness."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Sure it is."

Dick looked up at the screens, each filled with data or a video picture. "Anything going on?"

"Batman and Diana are on their way downtown to check out a tripped alarm in a jewelry store, and Batgirl and Spoiler are chasing down some baddies east-side."

"No word on the Joker?"

"None."

"How comforting it is to know that he's out there, waiting, preparing to die and most likely planning to take most of the city out with him," he said dryly. "And nothing more on Dr. Kaeklis?"

Barbara pushed her glasses up, eyed him seriously. "Except for that lab test showing that Joker's gonna bite the big one anytime soon, and one modest donation to the recently departed conjurer of gods, Maxie Zeus, there is no indication at all that Kaeklis had any dealings with any other criminals in his life--ever."

"Maxie Zeus." Dick shuddered. "Now that scene wasn't pretty. A possessed-Batman-as-god-of-fear-ugly-demon-thing gave even me nightmares. Good thing Wonder Woman was there. Or is it Wonder Bat now?" He lifted an eyebrow. "What is it with those two? Are they, you know, doing it? I've heard rumors. . ." His voice trailed off.

Barbara grinned. "From Wally?" Dick nodded. She added, "So have I."

"Do you think there's any truth to that? In the kitchen?"

"I don't know, but--" Barbara stopped, and checked around the room to make sure that Batman hadn't entered silently at some point. He had a habit of doing that. "--Bruce removed the security video discs AND the backups for the kitchen two weeks ago."

Dick's mouth dropped open. "Holy secret humpings. It's true then." He laughed, then quickly sobered. "Wait, no it's not. Not only have they had Batgirl as a chaperone eighty percent of the time, he's been like a bear with a sore head the last two weeks, snapping and angry, and brooding even more than usual. I assumed it's just the pressure over the Joker missing, but . . . well, let's face it: no man on Earth--or beyond--could be unhappy while bumping uglies with Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman!" He smiled dreamily.

Barbara snorted. "You look like a horny calf when you get that look in your eyes."

"Moo," Dick said, then sat up straight in shock when he heard Diana's voice. He was relieved when he realized she was speaking over the network.

"Oracle, I'm plugging in a feed from the recorder on my cowl. We found a body on the floor; see if you can run a make on his face. Looks like there was a double-cross in here. I'll be up on the roof in a minute to scan the onlookers; Batman thinks that this guy's partner will probably hang around to get a look at the results of his handiwork." Wonder Woman's voice came clearly through the speakers.

"He's usually right," Barbara spoke into the small microphone on her headset. "Okay, receiving feed." A picture of a man lying in a pool of blood next to a jewelry counter appeared on one of the monitors.

"I'm always right," Batman said. "As soon as you get the identity of the man here, cross reference it with the faces Diana's going to scan in the crowd."

"Starting search now." A name popped up on her screen. "Wow, that was fast. Batman, Diana, that guy's name is Roger Brit. Small time thief, but he's got record a mile long. All petty stuff, nothing of the nature of a high security jewelry chain. We've got a list of known associates to work with."

"Good. Diana should be up there now to get you some faces."

"Almost there. Patching through live feed." A monitor showed a stairwell; by the jiggling of the camera, Dick could tell she was running up the stairs.

"Why doesn't she fly?" he whispered, and Barbara shrugged.

Diana was on the roof now, looking over the ledge down at the crowd watching the spectacle of police cars and ambulances. She swept the camera over the onlookers.

"No matches yet," Barbara said.

"There is going to be something," Batman's low growl came through the speakers. "Keep looking."

Diana walked the perimeter of the roof, scanning the face of every passerby.

"Still nothing," Barbara updated them.

Dick spotted a familiar face and grabbed a headset. "Hold on, Diana, swing back."

"Nightwing?"

"Yeah, hi, Wonder Woman. The blond guy, glasses, red backpack standing far back and to the left of the farthest police car. I know him."

Barbara ran him through the database. "Not an associate of Brit's. Checking criminal database. It'll take a minute or two."

"Give me a visual," Batman said. Barbara sent a digital picture to his handheld viewer. "That's Donnie Hager. Likes explosives. Diana, quickly, sweep the roof and surrounding dumpsters, everything, for a bomb. I'll do the inside here."

"Do you think he might be trying to cover up a new penchant for murder?" Dick asked.

"Yes," Batman said.

Dick wrote on a piece of paper, then showed it to Barbara: I HATE IT WHEN HE'S RIGHT. She grinned.

Dick watched as the picture on Diana's monitor blurred as she searched for the explosives, moving more quickly than her recorder could accurately portray. The picture stilled a moment later, the camera pointing at a large tangle of wires and plastique behind a pile of crates.

"Found it," Diana announced, and moved in closer. She gently lifted it. "Oh no." The clock read seven, six seconds. "Batman, mind if I break the 'no flying' rule?"

She was already in the air when he said, "Break it. Use the harbor."

Dick watched as her camera picked up a stream of lights as she sped over the city, then darkness. She must be over the harbor, he thought. Her monitor showed a white splash from the impact of the bomb hitting the water, then the screen blanked out.

The sound of the explosion reached them in Barbara's tower; her windows rattled. Dick looked at her. "That was huge! The idiot might have been killed by his own bomb."

"Maybe not," Batman said. "The bomb was on the other side of the building, and he was a block further down than that. GCPD just put him in custody. Looks like his pack is full of jewelry. Diana, meet me at the car." A pause, and silence. "Diana?"

"Her monitor went blank at the explosion, Batman," Barbara informed him. "I thought it might be because of the lack of light over the harbor, but her equipment might have malfunctioned in the shockwave. She was pretty close to it."

"Her radio headset is designed to withstand that." Batman tried again. "Diana?"

Barbara and Dick looked at each other. There was an edge to Batman's voice, one they didn't recognize.

"I'm here," Diana's voice came through the speakers. "Sorry. Ouch. I had to turn off the headset for a minute; my ears were ringing."

Dick could hear the relief in Batman's voice, but was sure no one else, except maybe Barbara, would notice any difference from his usual growl when Bruce said, "Meet me at the car."

Barbara's eyes widened. So she noticed it, too. Dick turned off his microphone and motioned for her to do the same.

He said when she muted her headset, "He sounded awfully worried about someone who is near invulnerable, super-strong and super-fast, didn't he?"

***

Diana lay on her back, panting, sweating, trying to catch her breath. He’d done it again. She fought the urge to bounce up and lay waste to his handsome, smirking face; instead, she gathered her wits and considered her next move.

The roundhouse kick followed by the uppercut hadn’t worked; he’d caught her foot and upended her on her ass. She’d agreed not to use super-speed or strength, but at this point she was starting to regret that decision. She frowned. Not that it might have made a difference—she’d seen him defeat many villains and heroes who outclassed him in strength and speed. No, she had to find another way.

She glanced over at Batgirl, who was performing exercises on a dummy while Diana and Batman sparred. Batgirl cocked an eyebrow at Wonder Woman, executed a series of maneuvers on the dummy, then nodded slightly in Batman’s direction. Diana grinned. If that was a hint about how to get Bruce on his behind for once, she’d try it.

Not that Bruce was a dummy, she reminded herself. He wouldn’t stand still while she pounded on him. But, she thought, if I apply the moves right, and give careful consideration to his probable reaction to each one, and react accordingly, I can incorporate Batgirl’s suggestion into a new, quicker fighting style.

She flipped up to a standing position, tweaked her fingers in a "come on" gesture. The two combatants circled each other for a few moments, then engaged. Diana felt a moment of triumph when Bruce lost his balance for a split second; she knocked him over with a foot behind his left knee coupled with a punch to his right shoulder. He couldn’t counterbalance and went down on his knee.

"Nice," he said, then lashed out with his leg. She easily dodged his kick.

"I’m not falling for that one again."

They fought for forty more minutes, continually altering their fighting styles, until Batman slowly gained the upper hand again and took advantage of a gap in Diana’s defensive tactics. She went down.

She growled. "What was it this time?" She was heartened to hear his labored breathing. She wasn’t the only one who was getting a workout.

"After a series of low kicks, I notice that you lower your arms slightly. That gave me the ability to find a weak spot, because you overcompensate when I switch from kicks to punches. It takes a while, though, and I’m not sure how much your conscious dumbing down of your reflexes affects it."

Diana wiped her brow. "I am a warrior born, whether or not I am Wonder Woman. I shouldn’t be affected by having to deal with mortal constraints. I didn’t realize until that last two weeks how much I have relied on my powers when I fight; I have gotten soft."

Bruce rubbed his ribs. "I wouldn’t say soft." He motioned for Batgirl to join them, then continued, "You’ve always had an amazing amount of fighting skill; in the last two weeks you’ve picked up even more new fighting styles. Unpowered, you would still be a formidable opponent to anyone, including Batgirl and me."

Diana smiled at the seventeen year old Batgirl, whom she outweighed by at least forty pounds and topped by six inches. "Maybe not Batgirl," she said, completely serious.

Batman nodded in agreement. "Maybe not." He walked to a shelf where protective body pads were stored, took one down, and threw it to Diana. "Batgirl learned a new technique called Koga-Ryu while fighting the Shadow Thief last week. I want her to demonstrate it."

Diana positioned the pads over her torso and pulled the mitts over her hands. "Why do I have to be the dummy?"

Batman said, his focus on Batgirl, "Two reasons: I want to watch how she moves in relation to the other person, and your ribs are a lot stronger than mine. I've seen her do this without an opponent; the acceleration and force is astounding. The pads are actually for her sake; I want her to go all out, and hitting you can sometimes be like hitting a brick wall. I don't need her injured in practice."

"Do you want me to defend myself?"

"Can..try," Batgirl answered, an impish smile curving her lips.

Diana blinked, then Batgirl's hand slammed into her chest. It didn't hurt, but she was surprised by the force. She swayed backward, absorbing some of the impact so Batgirl's hand wouldn't break. Batman was right: at that kind of force and speed, Batgirl needed the protection more than Diana did. Fighting certainly was easier, she thought, when gifted with the strength of Gaea, which included Earth's ability to withstand blunt impacts. She glanced at Batman, whose attention was on Batgirl's swift execution of punches and kicks. He'd been fighting crime for years, Diana knew; she wondered how he managed to still walk, let alone fight and capture criminals without his body breaking down on him.

Diana ducked under a fist that had been aimed at her face. He'd been stabbed and shot several times, had numerous broken bones, had even had his back broken, and been paralyzed, yet was still as dedicated -- perhaps more dedicated -- than the day that he'd first started, than the day his parents had been murdered. She'd seen him on patrols: he gave every bit of his attention to the city, missed nothing, and, if he could, allowed no injustice to harm anyone in Gotham. And, she realized, he still took time to help out the JLA, albeit at times grudgingly.

No, not grudgingly, she thought now, and dodged a kick. She returned with a kick of her own and missed. Batman would probably help out the Justice League more often; he was simply that type of man. But, he was only a man, just the same as Superman or the way that she was only a woman. Even Batman couldn't stretch himself too thin, and his seeming unwillingness at times was, she thought, probably just weariness. Not to mention a matter of priority. Gotham came first. Every JLA'er knew that.

Gotham before anything. But before anyone? she wondered--and realized that she didn't know the answer.

***

The city was quiet. To Batman, it seemed as if Gotham was lying in wait. Waiting for an alarm, a fire, a robbery, a mugging, a rape, a murder.

Waiting for the Joker.

He tried to think of an angle he had missed, a clue he'd ignored, and couldn't. The data wasn't coalescing into a pattern like it usually did; instead, he only saw random acts: an escape and the murder of the last man who had visited the Joker. The man who had told him he was dying, that he had three, maybe four weeks to live.

But the Joker wasn't dead yet -- Batman was sure of that. He trusted his intuition, and it was telling him that the Joker would take as many people with him as he could before he died. The last joke. So Batman waited for something big, something awful. And he had no idea what it would be, but he did know it would be soon. The Joker was running out of time.

Diana waited beside him, eyes and ears attuned to the night. He debated sending her home; nothing was happening tonight, she didn't need to be there. He had tried to rationalize her continuing presence in Gotham -- her superhuman abilities made it safer for the rest of the Bat family to operate since she could handle the metas, the spell was affecting him, he was keeping an eye on her while she battled whatever inner demons she faced, her skill as a warrior was an invaluable training tool for Batgirl -- but he had forced himself to face the simple truth: he liked her presence.

And he didn't like that he did.

She was a distraction. On patrols, he found himself wondering what she was thinking. During practice, he appreciated more than just the way she moved, he found himself appreciating the way she looked. In the cave, he looked forward to her easy laugh, her quick smile, her wit; in the last two weeks, it had seemed colder and darker in there when she wasn't around.

It would have been easier if she didn't fit in as well as she did, if she didn't work seamlessly with his allies; if that was the case, he could blame the distraction on her inability to mesh with the Bat clan. But that wasn't the case. She wore the Bat uniform easily, in more ways than one.

Bruce could remember a time when Superman had worn his costume to cover for him when he'd been missing -- Clark had been uncomfortable with the darkness of Gotham and the Bat uniform, and seemingly couldn't wait to remove it. Batman's crew had felt it--despite their awe and respect of Superman, they had kept him at a slight distance. Diana, on the other hand, embraced what the Bat stood for and his methods much more readily than he would have thought, and the Bat clan, for the most part, had accepted her new role in their lives. They questioned and wondered about her, yes -- but they didn't have that same distance as they did with Clark. They still thought of her as Wonder Woman, with awe and respect, but she wasn't as alien to them. They worked with her like they worked with each other. But, Bruce reminded himself, it was only temporary.

Donna would be back soon, they would find out what had happened between them in the kitchen, and the strange bond that had kept them together, that had fueled his need to see her, would be broken. By unspoken agreement, he and Diana hadn't talked about what they had done since that first night in his cave, but he knew that she thought about it. She had never been good at hiding her thoughts and emotions; he had caught her, more than once, looking his way with a mixture of hunger and uncertainty in her eyes.

God knew that he thought about it, too. And it was yet another distraction -- sexual frustration.

He'd felt it before, of course, and he'd had years of practice repressing it, manipulating the sexual energy into another form: he would work harder, fight harder, and, when the frustration became overwhelming, a quick masturbatory session in the shower eased the pressure. But with Diana, it wasn't easing, self-gratification wasn't working, and he was having difficulty channeling it into something else, which he should be doing: the Joker was loose, after all.

A rasping noise made him turn in Diana's direction. She had picked up some debris from the roof of the building; it was abandoned, having been severely damaged in the earthquake, and was a popular hangout for gang members and drug dealers who preyed on the homeless. She crumbled the concrete in her fingers and let it drift back to the rooftop.

"Is it hard?" Her tone was wondering, and she was looking pensively out over the city.

You have no idea, he thought, but waited until she clarified herself to answer.

Her eyes finally focused, and her gaze met his. "Rebuilding the city. You care so much for it, then to see it practically destroyed, become a lawless place, then rebuilding -- does it feel futile?"

Ah, he realized, she was thinking about Themyscira. After they had fought Maxie Zeus and the gods Phobos, Eris and Deimos in Gotham, she had gone home to Paradise Island for a relaxing break, and arrived in the midst of a bitter civil war between the Bana-Mighdall amazons and the Themyscirian amazons. He didn't know too many details, but he did know that the result of the war had been Diana's mother's abdication of the throne and abolition of the royal line. Diana had returned to man's world without tiara and title. Then the war with Braniac, Darkseid and the Imperiex force had started. Hippolyta, Diana's mother, had been killed destroying one of the Imperiex probes, then most of Themyscira had been destroyed when the amazons had used its mass to block the Earth from Imperiex's destructive energy force. More amazons had died in the final battle. She was, he imagined, still reeling from the effects of the two wars and her mother's death, although she didn't speak of either often.

He thought carefully before answering. "Not futile. What happened to Gotham was -- catastrophic, and heart-breaking, but I think that people learned from it. Compassion for each other. And they learned that civilization is a façade that breaks down quickly in the face of adversity. I think it made some of them afraid, and willing to work harder to make the city work."

"It didn't make people more selfish? Or create a "get-what-you-can" philosophy so that survival was possible?"

"Of course it did. But that was then, when there was nothing. People fought for food, clothing for their loved ones; it was understandable. I would have done the same. Now, people have what they need," he pointed out, "and it makes them appreciate what they do have all the more -- and not just the material things. Relationships, too. Once you've lived through something like that, you realize how lucky you are."

A smile curved Diana's lips. "Does that include you?"

"Yes." He had lost some friends, some allies. It gave him more of a reason to keep fighting. "And it makes the city even more important to me than ever now."

"And you are more important to the people of the city now."

"Perhaps, but it also made them more self-reliant."

"I've seen that." She didn't say what she had seen, and Batman didn't ask. He sensed it was something that she was still wrestling with. She said, "Bruce Wayne is more important, too."

Batman nodded. "His money is useful; he can help people on a larger scale when it comes to support and programs to get people back on their feet." He was careful to refer to Bruce Wayne in the third person on the off chance that someone was listening. It had become a habit when he was in the Batman uniform; he barely noticed himself doing it. "But, his image was not exactly helpful when he fought for Gotham at the beginning."

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know; I heard the whispers around Washington whenever I visited. 'Wayne doesn't want Gotham to lose its status as a member of the United States so that he can continue to get the girls,' they said. Or, 'Wayne just doesn't want to lose his billions in Gotham real estate.'" She sighed. "I guess people believe what they want to believe."

"Well, you reap what you sow, or so I hear. Wayne gives off the impression that those are the things he cares about, and people take him on his appearance."

"I guess so," Diana said, then grinned. "I know a bit about being judged by my appearance."

"You probably would have had more luck in Washington than Wayne, though."

Diana shook her head. "I actually had a private audience with the President about the situation in Gotham. It wasn't any more successful than Wayne's attempt. He wasn't listening to anyone at that point."

Batman was surprised. "You did?"

"Mmm hmm." She sighed dramatically, and joked, "I made the usual offer of sex, but he turned me down."

Batman's laugh rolled out over the rooftops. He decided to play along. "Luthor turned you down?"

"Yep. It seems that Lex isn't interested in me; what he really wants is Superman and his super-loving."

"Super-loving? Is that what it is?" Bruce kept his voice light, determined not to betray his annoying interest in her answer.

Diana tilted her head as if considering. "I suppose you would know as well as I would." Batman choked; she smiled and continued. "I mean, you were there."

"In Gateway City?" Bruce, Clark and Diana had shared a hallucination in which Diana and Clark had married, eradicated crime from the world, and lived happily ever after. The hallucination had sprung from Diana's own wishes and fantasies, a fact that Bruce had kept firmly in mind the last couple of weeks -- maybe even before that. "I didn't experience that part of it." Thank goodness, he added to himself.

Diana shrugged. "Neither did I, not really. It all happened so quickly, anyway." Bruce suppressed a comment about men with super-speed and their sexual performance. Diana added, "And I haven't exactly…I mean, except with you…" Batman was glad she didn't finish the sentence; she was heading into dangerous territory. He guessed she thought so, too, when she changed the subject. "Anyway, I did talk to Lex, but nothing came of it. He smiled and said 'of course you're right, Diana,' then promptly forgot about it, I think. Two weeks later and they closed off Gotham."

And Gotham had entered a year of hell. Batman didn't want to reflect too long on those days. "I read an article by Lois Lane that indicated you had another audience with him just before the war."

Diana frowned, picking up another handful of rubble, crushing it between her fingers. "That lowly dog. I had gone to him in the hopes that he would support me in my peace effort between three war zones. Instead he undermined me so that my speech at the UN General Assembly might as well have been delivered on deaf ears." She threw the concrete dust out into the air; it drifted slowly down into the empty street. "It is so frustrating -- I am an ambassador of peace from a country that just went through a civil war. I try to convince the world that the way of the amazons leads to peace, but instead of listening to what I'm saying, they focus on what happened." She turned toward Batman, her eyes haunted. "I know that some people think that my way of doing things is a contradiction: I am a warrior who espouses the merits of peace. I talk about the need for love and understanding, and yet I fight. But it is worth fighting for; it's worth dying for." She sighed, closed her eyes. "But, anyway, what were you doing reading that article? It was in the gossip section."

Bruce wished she wouldn't retreat behind friendly banter; he felt he was finally beginning to see the cause of her recent turmoil more clearly: it wasn't just the wars, it was their effect on her mission. But he also knew there was more; she would eventually reveal it, and then he would ascertain whether she was truly balancing on some sort of emotional precipice, or whether her current mental state was just a natural grieving process for her mother, her island and herself.

He knew a lot about grieving, and even more about contradictory missions. He stood for justice by breaking the law. He had realized long ago, however, that sometimes seemingly opposite terms and ideas actually went hand in hand. Making peace and making war. Fighting for justice and defying laws. In many ways, there was no contradiction, just a lack of understanding by the public.

Or, he thought ruefully, a delusion on the part of the person with the mission.

"I usually check the society pages for mention of Wayne; it's always best to know what is being said and written about him." He was only telling part of the truth; he'd known that Lois had interviewed Diana, and he'd wanted to see what impression Wonder Woman had left on Superman's wife. From the tone of the article, it had apparently been a good one. Professional curiosity, he'd told himself at the time. Just a need to make sure that the wheels of the JLA would continue to run smoothly and that the article wouldn't cause friction between Diana and Clark, or Clark and Lois.

He was saved from whatever comment Diana was probably going to make about Wayne's ego by Oracle's voice in his ear. "Batman, I've got confirmation of a Joker hit."

Thoughts of articles and egos disappeared as he focused on this new information. "Where?"

"Farletti's Music Store. Sixth street and Glison."

"We're on our way."

He glanced at Diana, who had heard the short conversation. Equal parts relief and horror showed in her eyes.

It looked as though the wait was over.

***

The neatness of the music shop disguised the violence of the death the owner must have experienced. Diana thought that it would have been more appropriate, and more respectful, if the shop had been torn apart as haphazardly as John Farletti's mind must have been. Looking at the pristine store, a person would never realize the absolute horror of dying with a smile on your face. Something, she thought, should stand for this man, should show how awful his death must have been. She wanted to smash something in sympathy, in honor.

"The office is in as good of a condition as the store. It was quick; he didn't have time to react." Batman was examining the body behind the desk in the small office at the back of the store. He was with Jim Gordon; the rest of the officers had been moved from the site while Batman and she were there. Diana decided to stop listening from afar and joined them in the office. Neither man looked up from their perusal.

"The rope burns on his wrists indicate he was bound for a time when he could resist slightly. They aren't severe though, so either he was drugged shortly thereafter, or the Joker made him a promise that let him relax. Probably got information from him."

"What kind of info?" the police commissioner asked.

"I don't know." Batman nodded toward the digital camera Diana was carrying. "Did you get pictures of the entire store?"

"Yes." She noted that Gordon was trying very hard not to stare or ask about her presence. She had met him before as Wonder Woman; he was a smart man--he had probably already figured out her identity, and was just trying to figure out why she was patrolling with Batman, who was notorious for working alone. If he managed to find an answer, she hoped he would let her in on the secret. She had been shocked when Bruce hadn't asked her to remain out of Gordon's sight, and instead had given her the duty of recording the scene.

"With the pictures and the inventory lists, we can identify what was taken, if anything." Batman frowned. "There's nothing here to indicate that the Joker acted with his standard operating procedure: no gag items left around, nothing disturbed or broken, and nothing left behind for us to find." He stroked his chin, lost in thought. "He likes keeping us on our toes and being one step ahead of us while frustrating us with his little jokes and games. But I don't see the joke here. If it weren't for the Joker venom, I wouldn't even consider this one of his jobs."

"Any hint of the method of delivery for the venom?"

Batman patted a plastic bag with several Q-tips in it. "I've swabbed his mouth and nose, and checked for needle punctures in the obvious places: his hands, arms and neck, but didn't find any. The medical examiner will do a more thorough check, though, and might find something I've missed. In the meantime, I'll analyze the swabs, and try to determine if the venom's composition has been changed, and get to work on a counteragent, in case he tries to strike again." Diana noticed that he didn't mention the slim chance of finding a victim and administering the antidote while there was still a chance for the victim to recover. Some things were better left unsaid.

Oracle's voice sounded in her ear. "Batman, Diana -- there's been report of another Joker hit at Ellie's Bakery and Eatery, Eighth and Mason. The daughter just called 911. Her mother didn't come home, and there was no answer at the bakery. The daughter found her; she's still there."

"Copy that." Batman gathered up his tools and evidence from the desk. "Eighth and Mason, Ellie's Bakery," he said to Gordon. "The Joker again."

Gordon's fist slammed into the wall. Diana approved; she felt the same way. "We are going to get that son of a bitch, Batman."

Diana turned and left, heading for the Batmobile. Behind her, she heard Batman say, "We'll meet you there. Have your men keep the area secure until we arrive."

She heard Gordon sigh. "Of course. If they get there before you do. How you find out this stuff before I do, I'll never know, and -- of course, you've already left, and I'm talking to myself again."

Batman caught up with her, unlocked the Batmobile. "I want you to handle the daughter when we get there. Ask questions, especially about her mother's schedule and services of the bakery. Ask her to look around for something unusual." He started the car. "Be sympathetic, but firm. Use your own voice, not mine. We don't want to scare her."

"Of course."

Diana studied Batman's face while they drove; at least, the part that was visible. She could see the tension around his mouth, pulling his lips thin; his jaw was clenched. It had been the same with every person they had found beaten or murdered, she realized. He didn't vent his anger, but it showed in small ways. He drove differently, with both hands on the steering wheel, instead of in his usual, casual manner. She imagined that under his gloves, his knuckles were white with strain from gripping the wheel so tightly. And she thought she finally understood him, at least a little--she had wanted something to stand for Farletti, and his death. And something did.

Batman did.

He took each death, each victim personally. He felt it, took it into himself, made it a part of himself. So different, she thought, from most homicide detectives or police officers she knew who had to keep their distance from the victims in order to keep from burning out.

But what kept him from burning out? From exploding with anger and frustration and pain? Or, she thought, was it the anger, frustration and pain that kept him going?

They arrived at the same time as a GCPD squad car. Batman glanced at it, told Diana that Gordon would clear them to enter once the police had secured the site. "Some things," he said, "have to be done by the book." He shook his head. "Not that the Joker will ever get to a courtroom or worry about proper police procedure. We'll go in after a minute or so."

"You wait because of Gordon. Because you respect him, not because of any book."

He bent his head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps. Gordon is a good man. His belief in the system is unshakable, but he's not blind to its faults, either."

"Are you a friend to him, or a necessary evil?"

Batman smiled humorlessly. "Both."

"Much like the JLA is to you." It wasn't a question.

He met her steady gaze. "Yes. Although, in both cases, 'evil' is not the right term."

"What is the right term?"

Smiling as though he had thought of a joke he'd once heard, he replied, "A distraction," and opened the door.

Muttering about facetiousness, Diana followed him.

The bakery was in the same state as the music shop: clean, sparkling and homey, as if murder hadn't been committed there in the last couple of hours. Batman went directly to examine the deceased; Diana waited in a corner, observing the girl as she made her statement to a uniformed officer.

A woman really, Diana thought. The daughter was probably in her late teens or early twenties, and wore, Diana was surprised to note, a shirt with a Wonder Woman symbol emblazoned across the front.

"Like I said, she didn't call or come home, so I got worried, you know? It's not like Mom to work this late. Oh, she'll stay up late if she has a special order, or if she is catering something, but there wasn't anything on her calendar, and anyway, she didn't answer the phone." Her voice was steady, but her face was pale and drawn, and she sat hunched in the chair as if expecting a blow. "I have an extra key, because Mom makes me work here some nights and lock up after her. Those are the nights she goes on dates, or out with her friends." She eyed the officer, suddenly defensive. "But she had a hard life, you know? Raising me? She wasn't any kind of party animal or anything, she just liked to go out and have fun, and she knew I was old enough to handle myself in here. She wasn't bad for going out, or anything."

"Of course not," the officer said soothingly. "Do you know any of the men your mom may have dated lately?"

"Yeah, but you don't need to question them. I saw her." The defensive attitude drained from her posture, and she looked small, and very young. "I've seen news reports before, the pictures. That was the Joker." Her breath hitched on a sob. She pushed her fists into her eyes as if to hold back tears. "The Joker. God."

Diana strode forward, placed her hand on the officer's shoulder. "Do you need any more questions from her for a little while?"

The officer looked relieved. The grief of victim's families was heart-wrenching. "She can make the rest of her statement down at the station later." He stared curiously at her; Diana ignored him, her attention focused on the girl. She glanced at his clipboard; the girl's name was Danielle Nichols.

"Danielle?"

She looked up, and her eyes widened. In amazement, Diana was happy to see, not fear. Her lip trembled. "Are you here to get the Joker?"

Diana didn't have any doubt that Batman would catch him, and didn't think that she was giving the girl false hope when she said, "Yes."

"Good." Diana was happy to see a spark of life enter the girl's eyes. "I hope you beat him within an inch of his life, or further."

"Would you like to come with me? I have a few questions." She held out her hand; Danielle took it, giving her a few suggestions about what to do with the Joker. Diana led her out of the entrance; she didn't think that Danielle needed to see the eventual removal of her mother's body. But, she thought, we need to keep out of sight as much as possible; the news crews will get wind of this soon. Diana looked up, then told Danielle, "I need you to trust me. Don't scream."

Danielle nodded, and Diana swept her up and shot a grappling hook up to the roof. She let it lift them both, speeding the process by half-flying. She was beginning to have a penchant for roofs, she realized. She set Danielle down easily.

"Wow, I need to get me one of those. Then I can sneak in the house at night without Mom knowing. . ." She trailed off, her face registering horror and acceptance. She sat down, hard, as if her legs wouldn't hold her anymore. "No," she whispered.

Diana kneeled beside her and put her arms around her, Bat costume be damned. Danielle held on to Diana tightly, and said it more loudly, "No. No." Diana felt the sobs the girl was repressing shudder through Danielle's frame. Danielle pulled away, screamed, "No!" and hit Diana's ribs and face. Diana let her. "Where were you! Where were you, damn you!"

Diana pulled her back into her arms, hugging her tightly, Danielle struggled, then collapsed against her, sobbing. She held her that way, until, slowly, Danielle's crying eased. Eventually, she sat up, wiping away her tears, and got to her feet. "Sorry."

"You have nothing for which to be sorry."

"I guess so." Danielle hiccuped, and walked to the edge of the roof to look out over the street. Diana stood beside her. The squad cars were still there, along with several unmarked cars and the Batmobile. The ambulance was gone, Diana noted. She wondered if it had left because it took away the body, or because there was no one living to take away, to save.

"I thought you were a man."

"I am," Diana said, then corrected herself. "I mean, Batman is a man."

Danielle eyed her appraisingly. "So, you're his sidekick?"

The idea amused Diana. "Something like that. More of an associate."

Danielle nodded, as if she understood. "Will he get him?"

"Yes."

Danielle took a deep breath. "Ok. You wanted to ask me questions, right?"

"If you feel up to it."

"If it helps catch that scum, then, yeah, I'm up to it."

Diana sat on the low wall along the edge of the roof, and patted the space beside her. "Tell me about your mother, Danielle. Were you named after her?"

Danielle sat. A wistful smile touched her mouth. "Yeah. My dad was Dan, my mom was Ellie. Eleanor. He died in a car wreck while my mom was still pregnant; she said she named me Danielle because I was proof that both of them would be together forever somehow."

"How lovely." But sad, Diana thought.

Danielle shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway, my mom was a great lady. She put herself through culinary school while I was a kid, then we moved to Gotham while I was in high school and she opened up the shop. We do pretty good." Her eyes shadowed. "She taught me a lot, so I guess I'll try to take over, maybe get some help."

"What were some of her interests besides the shop?"

"Are you trying to find a link to the Joker?" She continued when Diana nodded, "Like I told the other guy, she went out, but well, with low key guys, you know? No criminals. Usually just friends of friends."

"What about hobbies?"

Danielle shook her head. "Nah. She didn't really have time. She would curl up with a book if she got the chance, but she didn't often get the chance." She rubbed her arms, even though the night was balmy. "She won't get the chance now."

"No, but you will."

Danielle tilted her head, considering. "Another way of living through me? Like my name?"

"Yes."

"I guess you're right."

"I hope so," Diana said, a little more emphatically than she'd intended. At Danielle's questioning stare, she said, "I lost my mother not long ago, too."

"Oh. Does it get any easier?"

"Not yet."

Danielle nodded; she looked much older than when Diana had first seen her. "I guess not. At least she knows that I love her and am proud of her. It at least makes you feel a little better, right?"

She hesitated. "Right," Diana lied. Her last words to her mother echoed in her ears. You're not Wonder Woman.

And when I said that, she thought, neither was I.

"Let's go down and see if you can tell if anything is missing," she said.

She didn't bother with the grappling hook on the way down; she simply floated them down along the side of the building. Danielle looked at her again, more closely this time. "An associate, huh?" She looked at the emblem on her shirt.

"I'd appreciate it if you would keep that to yourself."

"Of course," Danielle said. "Will I see you again?"

"I love blueberry muffins and brownies. It won't be often, but I'll stop by to see how you are doing."

Diana was heartened by Danielle's grin, even though it faded when they entered the bakery and was replaced by a look of concentration. "Mom always baked some stuff the night before, if it didn't matter that they were super-fresh. Cakes, pies, cookies, dessert bars, and stuff like that. She made the breakfast muffins and bagels in the morning, since it goes stale faster. I found her over there." She pointed to a display case filled with desserts. Diana followed her into the kitchen, where Batman and Jim Gordon were talking. Danielle ignored them, and looked through the freezers, cupboards and drawers. "Nothing seems to be missing in here."

"She had been baking when it happened." Danielle jumped a little when Batman spoke.

Danielle looked at the clean prep table and counters, then at him. "How can you be sure?" She held up her hand. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

They followed her out to the display case. "Cakes, two pies, cookies." Danielle frowned. "There aren't any bars. I saw a package for fyllo dough in the trash in the kitchen. That means baklava. There wasn't any in the fridge, and there's none here."

Gordon drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Baklava? Why?"

***

"Music and food. Desserts. Maybe it has something to do with a party, or he plans to poison the baklava and serve it somewhere?" Diana was pacing a path in the floor behind his chair. "Are there any big events taking place in Gotham any time soon?"

Batman had already thought of that, so his answer was confident and quick. "The Wayne Foundation charity auction in two nights. After that, there's nothing for almost three weeks. The computer finished analyzing the poison and spit out a sheet listing its makeup.

Diana snapped her fingers. "Right. The auction." She blinked. "I'd forgotten about the auction. I need to get the branch." Batman nodded absently. It had been well advertised that Wonder Woman would be donating a golden olive branch from the Tree of Athena that grew on Themyscira and would be delivering a speech promoting the Foundation's new program to help families devastated by the earthquake and No Man's Land. "Do you think that's where he'll show up?"

Batman hesitated for an instant; he hated giving an opinion unless he was sure of the answer. Under normal circumstances, he would say 'yes' with almost no reserve; however, the Joker wasn't acting normally. At least, Batman thought, what could be considered normal for the Joker. "I think he will be. If nothing else, because the Batman will be watching for him. The Joker will want one last chance at me." He didn't consider the statement arrogant; he was well aware that the Joker took their animosity as seriously as he did.

Diana stopped pacing. "But you won't be there, will you? Bruce Wayne will be."

"Unfortunately." He tapped the piece of paper on his desk. "This has two different venoms: his paralyzing venom and his Joker venom. He probably used the first to immobilize Farletti and Nichols, then restrained them with the rope. After which he either waited for it to wear off, or he administered a counteragent." He thought about that. "He probably administered a counteragent by needle. He wouldn't want to wait long enough for the paralyzation to wear off. Then he got whatever information from them that he needed, took the baklava and whatever it was that he wanted from Farletti's, and administered the Joker venom by unknown methods."

"Why clean Ellie's kitchen?"

"I don't know." That didn't concern him as much as finding the link between Farletti and Nichols, and the goods that they sold. He gave the computer an instruction to look for corresponding vendors, suppliers, or accounts, then turned to look at Diana.

She was at the edge of the cave floor, looking down into the abyss, her features pensive. "You know more about the Joker than anyone, Bruce." She glanced back at him. "Why in the world is he like he is?"

Batman stood, joined her at the cliff. The darkness does stare back up at you, he thought. "There's a simple answer and a complex one."

Diana tilted her head, regarded him seriously. "What's the complex one?"

He knew he should get back to work, but, he thought, a break might give him a chance to get a fresh view and a new perspective. He gathered his thoughts for a few moments before he answered. "Have you read anything by Nathaniel Hawthorne?" Diana made a face, but nodded. "He spent his life, his entire life, trying to uncover the secrets of what lies in a man's heart. He rejected the Puritan idea that everything is black and white, good or evil, and instead wrote that there are shades of gray, and that every person has the capability to do evil." He stooped, threw a piece of rock down into the abyss. He waited, but he didn't hear the noise of it hitting bottom. He never did. "Everyone. You, me, Superman, the little old lady down the street."

"What a depressing way of looking at things." Diana sighed. "Of course, that also means everyone has the capacity for good," she pointed out.

"Yes, but that's not what concerns me." Batman knew that sounded harsh, but he dealt with one side of people; Wonder Woman could deal with the other side. "In any case, somewhere along the way the Joker has lost his capacity for doing good. There are no light places in him anymore. Hawthorne would say that his heart is as black as this hole." He pointed down into the darkness.

"What was the simple answer?"

Batman turned and walked back to his computer. "He's insane and beyond help."

"Aren't we all?" Diana mused lightly.

"Probably." But not everyone went around killing people as a joke in music shops, bakeries and other public locales. Like charity auctions. "The night of the auction I'll need you to handle anything that comes up. You'll be backed up by Oracle, Nightwing, Robin, and Batgirl. They'll be out of the building, though, except for Batgirl. I won't authorize them to engage the Joker directly. I can run some interference, but I have to be Bruce Wayne. You are openly Wonder Woman, so they'll be no conflict there." Not having a secret identity could be, at times, helpful. "I'll spend tomorrow working on an antidote to the Joker venom; it'll be easy to mix up, it is just a slight variation from his other formulas. I'll give you a vial to inject yourself with should anything happen. Do it immediately upon exposure."

"What about the rest of the guests?"

"I'll work out a contingency plan with Gordon." Probably a gas that could be deployed over a large area quickly. "Bruce Wayne has to be in New York on the day of the auction. It won't be suspect if he picks you up there to go to his charity function, because you'll be the VIP. I'll have everything set up by then, and we'll go over the details on the flight back. You're on your own from the airport to the Wayne Center, though, because Bruce Wayne has to pick up his date. I'll have his secretary secure a limo for you. Wear your regular uniform under your clothes. If it is needed, later, Alfred will bring your Bat uniform. Which reminds me--" He pushed an intercom button on the console. "Alfred, do you have Diana's new uniform?"

Alfred's face appeared on one of the monitors. Behind him Bruce could see the galley style kitchen. Probably preparing him a late supper, Bruce thought, and felt a twinge of guilt for keeping the older man up so long. "You'll find it in the changing room, Master Bruce."

"Go to bed, Alfred."

"Very well, Master Bruce." Batman knew that Alfred probably wouldn't retire for the night for a couple more hours.

"I don't need a different costume, Bruce," Diana said when he closed the intercom.

"Yes," he said, "you do. Mine is too big for you; there're too many accidents that could happen if the loose material catches on something, or it restricts your movement. If you're going to be in Gotham, you're not going to endanger my people because of something as simple as a uniform that doesn't fit."

Diana narrowed her eyes. "How much longer will I be working with you in Gotham?"

Bruce swiveled his chair so that he faced the computer again. Her practice and patrols in Gotham hadn't interfered yet with her duties as Wonder Woman; most of those she did during the day while Bruce Wayne slept or attended meetings. Right now, she was useful to him, and they were still waiting for Donna to return so that they could untangle the problem of the spell. And, he thought, there was his other dilemma that he needed to resolve: his recent and disturbing feelings for Diana. So, because he didn't know the answer to her question, he said instead, "Go try on the uniform, Princess."

He was expecting her reaction, and had his arms braced against the chair when she whipped it around. But she was, he realized, less angry than he'd assumed she would be.

She braced her hands on the armrests, leaning over him, bringing her face close to his. She lifted an eyebrow. "Say 'please, Princess'." A smile curved her mouth, and he was suddenly aroused. He struggled to keep his face blank, his gaze steady. She straightened up, stepped back. She ran her hand through her hair, exasperated; the movement lifted her breasts. He turned back to his desk, this time to disguise his reaction to her. Behind him, he heard her chuckle. "It's a good thing you are a friend, Batman, because at times you can be a real ass." A few seconds later, he heard the dressing room door slam, and released a deep breath.

Well, he thought, that had backfired. Although he didn't exactly know why he'd wanted to goad her in the first place, except to divert her attention from her question about how long she'd be in Gotham. A psychiatrist would probably tell him it was his way of driving her away, he realized.

But then again, a shrink would have a lot of things to say about him.

Diana emerged from the dressing room, cowl and cape in hand; his stomach clenched. Not because the uniform fit her body perfectly, which it did, and not because she looked beautiful, although she was, but because Alfred had made a change to the utility belt. Batman had redesigned the bat on the uniform, expanding the wings so that the general outline of the emblem was very similar to Diana's Wonder Woman emblem; he had done it as a favor to her, since he knew that the WW symbol came from her namesake, Diana Trevor, but he'd also been careful that the costume was dark enough so that the black bat would have to be scrutinized extremely closely for anyone to see the resemblance. Indeed, they would have to be looking for the resemblance to notice it.

Alfred had taken Batman's gesture one step further; he had restyled the belt so that it was shaped like the WW belt that Hippolyta had worn. Not a huge change--the suggestion of a 'W'--but enough of one that someone would notice if they were looking, and they wouldn't have to look very hard. The yellow of the belt was in high contrast to the dark gray of the costume.

Diana was obviously delighted with the belt design. She looked happier than she had in weeks.

And he was going to have to tell her she couldn't wear it.

***

She could dance on air, but she hadn't felt like doing it in a long time. She had once sworn that she would always fight under Diana Trevor's emblem; she hadn't realized until now how torn she had been wearing the Bat costume without her insignia; it had been an enormous relief to see her symbols when she had looked into the mirror. They weren't exactly right, no--but the intention was there. And, she thought, the mixing of symbols reflected very well how Bruce had influenced her: her mission, her ability as a warrior, and as a crimefighter.

She acknowledged the brief niggling of doubt she felt upon seeing the emblems, the one that said: Batman's way is not Wonder Woman's way. Then she pushed it aside. Every peacemaker, she reminded herself, knows the value of compromise. And she'd seen with her own eyes that Batman's way worked. If she used a little bit of his way as Wonder Woman, she thought, wouldn't that make her more successful?

And, it was her mother's belt. Well, as close as he had probably been willing to make it.

Batman had done this for her. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him for it. But, she noted, he didn't look very pleased with her.

He had removed his cowl and cape; she could read his face more easily when he did. He wore his normal expression: stoic, unamused. She knew that he was quicker to smile than most people realized, and the rumors about his never laughing were patently untrue. It was part of being Batman; a lot of it was in the attitude, the quietness, the humorlessness. What criminal would be afraid of a laughing Bat? No, she thought, in Gotham the villains were the ones who laughed, not the heroes.

She recognized an edge behind his expression, but what it was, she didn't know. She studied his mouth, his eyes, looking for clues; finding none, she waited. He would tell her what it was soon enough.

"It looks fine, except for the belt."

A small ball of dread settled in her stomach. "What's wrong with the belt?"

It was so much like her mother's belt.

"It's too much like Wonder Woman's belt. You know why I can't let them know you are Wonder Woman."

"Gordon knows I'm Wonder Woman," she pointed out, fighting a wave of panic at the thought of taking it off.

It was her mother's belt.

"Gordon will keep it to himself. You can't be Wonder Woman here." His voice was gentler than she expected, and that somehow made it worse.

"Why give me the belt and then decide it won't work?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him.

Her mother's belt.

He didn't answer her question, but repeated, "You can't be Wonder Woman here."

"I am Wonder Woman, Batman." I am, she said to herself. I am.

He sighed. "You're not Wonder Woman," he said, "not all of the time. You are also Diana. In Gotham you are Diana."

A red haze swam before her eyes. She tried to push it back. "Like you are not just Batman, but Bruce Wayne? Bullshit," she spat out. He didn't blink at her sudden vehemence or use of the expletive. He didn't react at all. Damn him.

"I am both."

She advanced on him. "Bruce Wayne is just a function of Batman. Dick is a function of Batman. Everything you do is a function of Batman." Her anger built. Standing toe to toe with him, she said, "Cold, calculating Batman. Don't let anyone in, don't care about anyone." She knew it wasn't true; she had seen how he cared for his family, his city. But she couldn't stop. She pushed against his chest.

He didn't budge. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Diana, don't. I'm sorry. I know this is about Hippolyta, but don't --" The anger swelled, overwhelmed. She grabbed his costume, lifted him, slammed his back against the cave wall. She put her face close to his.

"Don't mention my mother," she whispered dangerously. She dropped him, stepped back. Her breath hitched. What was she doing? Yet she still didn't stop. "You don't have a monopoly on grieving for your parents, Batman," she said.

The change came over him so quickly and he moved so rapidly that she barely had time to register it before he reversed their positions, holding her up against the wall, pressing himself against her. He was furious, she realized.

"Careful, Princess." His voice was soft. She wished that he would rage, would match his anger against her own. His eyes stared down into hers, the shadows making his irises look like midnight. He suddenly buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaled. She felt the brush of his tongue, and her anger started to change to desire.

"I feel, Diana," he breathed into her ear, and pushed his hips into hers, pressing his erection against her belly. His mouth trailed fire down the line of her jaw. She tilted her head back, parting her lips. He brought his mouth close to hers; their breath mingled. "I'd like nothing more than to take you up to Bruce Wayne's bed and fuck you until you scream my name out loud--" Her eyes widened, in surprise and arousal, "--and to lose myself in you. But I can't." He let go of her, stepped back, leaving her filled with frustration instead of anger.

"Why?"

He smiled grimly. "Hawthorne spent his life looking for the secrets of men's hearts; I've spent my life searching for mine. And what I've learned, Princess, is that inside of me is a scared boy who just wants his parents back, and its dark in there. I walk a fine line; the difference between me and the Joker, Diana, is control. And if I let go of this control, give into lust, then what's next? I give into my desire to finish the Joker off once and for all? Then maybe I'll decide to take out someone else: Two Face, or some punk on the street. It won't stop."

Diana stared at him, amazed that he had opened up to her like that. And every sense told her that he was telling the truth, that he believed absolutely in what he was saying. She knew he was better than that, though. Stronger.

"It doesn't have to be that way. It might not happen like that," she argued.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. Or an inner battle. "I never am going to take that chance and find out."

Diana bit her lip as two more truths hit her with the force of a locomotive. Her own truths.

She was in love with the Batman.

And he would never, ever allow himself to love her back.

***

Clark rolled over and looked at the clock. Five-thirty a.m. He heard Lois get off of her exercise cycle and go to the door. So that was what had awakened him. A knock.

Automatically, Clark used his x-ray vision to make sure the visitor wasn't dangerous, saw who it was, and sprang out of bed. Diana? Something must be horribly wrong. He dressed in less than a second, and got to the living room in time to hear Lois comment, "I want to know how you can still be absolutely gorgeous while looking like a drowned rat at five thirty in the morning."

It was true; Diana was soaked, her hair plastered to her head and hanging limply down her back, her casual pants and shirt were water-stained and wrinkled, yet she still exuded the grace and glowing beauty of a born princess.

"It was raining over New Jersey." She hesitated, then stepped inside the apartment. Lois gave Clark a "what's going on?" look. He shrugged, then zipped into the bathroom for a towel, and gave it to Diana a second later.

"Thank you." She started wiping off her arms.

Diana hadn't yet said why she was there, and Clark could see Lois getting more curious by the nanosecond. It obviously wasn't a global emergency, or Diana would have told them by now. So, he deduced, it must be something more personal. But what, he wondered, would bring her here so early in the morning?

"Why don't we go into the kitchen?" he suggested. Perhaps a casual breakfast setting would help Diana say whatever it was had brought her there.

He and Lois trailed after Diana into the kitchen. Behind Wonder Woman's back, Lois lifted an eyebrow. Clark interpreted it as: What do you think is going on?

I'm not sure, he said with another shrug.

Lois pursed her lips, which meant, Does it have anything to do with you and me?

Clark shook his head slightly. I don't think so.

Diana seated herself at the kitchen table, Lois joined her after pouring them all cups of coffee, and Clark headed to the refrigerator. He made a mean omelet, if he did say so himself.

Lois didn't mince words, as usual. "So what brings you to our neck of the woods, Diana?" she asked, then took a sip from her mug. Clark sent her an exasperated glance, which Lois ignored. He knew that Lois and Diana had an understanding of sorts, but Diana was obviously approaching them because of some inner conflict. They should give her time, make small talk.

"I'm in love with Batman," Diana said quietly.

Clark dropped an egg in surprise; Lois choked on her coffee. Clark pounded gently on her back to help her clear her airway, and considered this new information.

"Thanks," Lois croaked when she could speak again, then coughed. "I suppose this conversation is going to be off the record?"

"Lois," Clark reprimanded. He glanced at Diana and was glad to see a glint of humor in her eyes.

Lois sighed. "All of the good ones are off the record."

"Sorry, Lois." Diana smiled at her, but her eyes were serious again. She spread her hands in an entreating gesture. "I came here because I need advice. From you, Clark, because you know Batman as well as any of us, and from you, Lois, because you're a woman."

"Next to you, I'm not," Lois muttered good-naturedly.

"And," Diana continued, "you are a woman in a relationship with someone whose secret identity must stay hidden."

Clark returned to the stove, trying to process what Diana had said. In love with Batman. Batman. Batman and Diana. No, it didn't fit. "Is this about what happened two weeks ago?" J'onn had suggested magic. Had there been some kind of love spell?

That would explain it, he thought. Batman and Diana. He couldn't make the image work. He had accepted that they had sex in the kitchen due to some outside influence, but love?

"What happened two weeks ago?" Lois said. Clark smiled down at the pan. He could practically hear the reporter's wheels in her brain turning. He adored that woman.

"Batman and I had sex," Diana said bluntly. Clark didn't think that it occurred to her to phrase it more delicately. He wasn't sure if it was because she was so honest, or because she didn't associate a stigma with sex. He assumed that there was no shame in sex on Paradise Island; he couldn't imagine that a matriarchal society on an isle of women would adopt the same double standard that existed in the rest of the world. The women were empowered, and if they choose to have sex, they probably could without any reservations.

"Oh," Lois said. Clark was surprised that was her only comment. Lois must be chomping at the bit, ready to ask questions, to expose every facet of whatever had happened between Batman and Wonder Woman.

Diana continued, "But what happened then is and isn't the reason why I am here now. It is because it started everything, but it isn't because what I'm feeling has everything to do with what has happened since that day." She took a drink of her coffee, seemed to be gathering her thoughts. "We've ascertained that what happened in the kitchen was the result of a spell." Lois sat up straighter in her chair. This must be killing her, Clark thought, hiding a smile. "But while we were waiting for...the person who perpetrated it to show up, we've been training and patrolling together."

Clark's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Bruce let Diana patrol his city? There definitely was an outside force at work.

"In the meantime, I've gotten to know him better. I've always respected his work, but . . ." She sighed. "Anyway, I just realized what I was feeling an hour ago."

"And you came straight here," Lois said dryly.

"Of course," Diana replied, seemingly surprised that Lois would think that she might do anything else.

"What happened to Trevor Barnes?" Lois asked. She had told Clark all about Diana and Trevor's encounter at the General Assembly. Lois had expressed amazement for days that anyone would turn down Wonder Woman for a date.

"He turned me down, twice."

Lois nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean, then. You can't keep going after a guy who doesn't want you."

Diana winced. "That wasn't the reason why I stopped asking. I asked him once after the war, but he said no again. I was going to ask him again, but then...Batman." She looked at Clark, then at Lois. "But I guess he also fits into the category of a person who doesn't want me." Lois shook her head in disbelief. Diana added, "Or maybe it is more correct to say that he doesn't want to want me."

"Two men in the world who don't want you--" Lois looked at Clark, and amended, "--three men who don't want you. My perception of the world is shattered. I don't know what to say."

Diana laughed. "Lois, you are too funny."

She didn't know how serious Lois was, Clark realized. He broke his silence. "Does he know?" Diana might have told him the second she realized what she was feeling.

Diana shook her head. "No." She frowned. "Should I have told him?"

"No!" Lois and Clark exclaimed in unison. They glanced at each other. For the first time since Diana made her announcement, disbelief and surprise was replaced by worry in their eyes.

As much as Diana knew about love -- sisterly and brotherly love -- and despite her natural sexuality and sensuality, Clark realized that she was a novice, at best, when it came to romantic relationships. No wonder she had come to them for advice.

About the Batman, of all people.

He was torn between wanting to give her encouragement and hope, and telling her bluntly that it would never work. He was her best friend, he thought. What should he tell her?

He sat at the table. "Diana, are you sure what you are feeling is real? Not an effect of the spell?"

Diana nodded. "Yes."

"You tried your lasso and everything?" Lois asked.

A crease appeared between Diana's eyebrows when she frowned. "No." She looked at them wonderingly, as if surprised she hadn't thought of that herself. "That's usually the first thing that I would have done, but this time...well, I just knew."

"Then there is a chance it isn't real, then." The thought relieved Clark. Please let the lasso reveal that it's false, he prayed.

"No." Diana's voice was certain. "But I will make sure, since there is a question."

"Good."

"Good?" Lois repeated. She turned to Clark. "She just said she is certain. What if the lasso just confirms what she thinks?"

His gaze met Diana's. Her best friend, he reminded himself. And the most important woman in my life, except for Lois and Ma. One of my best friends.

And best friends were honest.

"It would never work, Diana." He saw sadness touch her expression, acceptance, but she didn't crumple or cry.

Lois looked at him, astounded. "Why not?"

Diana answered her, but kept looking at Clark. "Because he won't relinquish control over his life."

Clark was glad he wouldn't have to explain the whys to her. But there was more. He told her. "And he would never open up to someone more powerful than him. He's wary of the powered heroes."

He could see Diana considering that, as if she had known of Batman's wariness, but hadn't applied it to herself before. "Perhaps, but he trusts us."

"To a point. But he's also fears the damage we could cause if we ever lost our control. It's just not his own self control he guards; he's also vigilant against the possibility that we might also cross a line." He glanced at Lois, hesitated, then added, "I gave him kryptonite in case I ever crossed it."

Lois' lips tightened, but she didn't comment. He knew they would discuss it later.

"So you agree with him? That we shouldn't be trusted?"

"No, but I agree that there is a need to be vigilant. Anyone has the capability to lose control."

Diana smiled sadly. "You sound just like him."

"No, he sounds like an idiot." Lois stood up, paced the room. She stopped, glared at Clark. "I mean you, Smallville, and the Batboy. You guys are mixing up powers with power." She shook her head. "An unpowered person can do just as much damage as you, Clark, if they really wanted to. Say you lost control, went on a rampage. You could kill a bunch of people, yes, but how many before they got you? And at what effort to you? A million? Maybe two? Yeah, you could probably get us all by moving the Earth out of orbit or something, but there would be Diana, Green Lantern, and everyone else to fix it. And you are arguably the person with the most powers on Earth." She took a deep breath. Clark thought she was magnificent. "Bruce Wayne has power; he could affect the lives of everyone at the Daily Planet with a word or a set of pink slips. And Luthor, now, he really has power. He could kill or save a million people with a stroke of his pen--and there's nothing that any of you could do about it. Not really. Except for killing Luthor. And then he would have more support of the people than ever before."

"But we could pose a danger to society if--" Clark began, but Lois interrupted.

"So could I!" Lois slammed her fist on the table. "I could grab a gun, hijack a plane and ram it into a building, or get a nuclear bomb and lay waste to Metropolis. Despite your strength, and your flying around, Smallville, the only real power you have is that the people of the world look up to you, and respect you. Because of that, they'd do nearly anything for you. But if you lose control, you'd lose that respect and power -- hell, you've done it before -- until you've proven that you are worthy of it again." She looked at Diana. "And if Batman doesn't recognize that, then he's not worthy of you anyway."

"You would have made a fantastic Amazon," Diana said, her admiration plain to see.

Lois brushed the hair from her forehead and grinned. "Thanks." She gestured toward Clark. "He looks a little thunderstruck, doesn't he?" She leaned over the table and took Diana's hands in her own. "Here's a secret, Diana. Women have great power over men. It's because we are ineffable to them, so we have absolute power in their eyes." She laughed.

Clark leaned back in his chair. Lois was on a roll. "Yes, Lois, but don't forget that absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"Oh, do I have absolute power over you, Clark?" She teased. She winked at Diana. "See? 'By the power of Greyskull, I have the power!'"

Clark laughed at the quote, and at Diana's confused expression. She probably hadn't watched He-Man on Themyscira. And, he thought, if they did they would have wanted to see She-Ra instead.

"I don't want power over Batman, though," she said when Clark and Lois had quieted.

Clark sighed. "Diana, here's the thing. When love is involved, so is power. There's a million more things than power, but it is a big part of it. When you love someone, they have power over you. The problem is not that you love him, and he has power over you, because by loving him you accept that. The problem is that I doubt he would ever allow you to have power over him by loving you back. And I don't want to see you heartbroken over a relationship like that," he said earnestly. Lois was nodding in agreement. God knew, he thought, that she had power over him. The twitch of a finger and he would come running -- and he loved doing it, because she didn't abuse her power over him.

The expression on Diana's face told him that she had already come to the conclusion he had. His heart ached for her, and he hoped with everything in him that the spell was responsible, that she wouldn't really be hurt.

"Or," Lois suggested, "you could fight for him."

Diana shook her head. "That was my first impulse. To fight for him, like a warrior. To make him love me. But that's not how it works, is it?"

"I'm afraid not." Clark didn't doubt that if she tried, she could do it, but the result would be disastrous for both her and Bruce.

"Well, that's that, then." Clark could see the effort it took Diana to smile as she spoke. She took a sip of coffee. When she lowered the cup, she looked normal, strong, confident again. "Lois, how was your mother? I had heard you visited her."

Lois accepted the subject change without missing a beat. "She's fine, considering." Lois had held up remarkably well following her father's death, Clark thought. Even he had thought that his own parents had died; he had found his mother, but his father... Clark was convinced he would show up soon. Both Diana and Lois had lost a parent in the war; they exchanged sympathetic and understanding glances.

"Where's breakfast, Smallville?" Lois eyed the half-finished omelets on the stove.

Clark scowled. "Why is it there are two women here and the man has to do the cooking?"

Diana and Lois bent over, laughing. "You're asking the wrong two women, Clark," Diana grinned, holding her sides.

He grumbled and muttered his way back to the stove, pleased that he had lightened the mood in the kitchen. When Diana left an hour later, she was still smiling. He hoped it would last a while.

He wandered into the bathroom where Lois was brushing her teeth. She spit into the sink. "Do you think she'll be ok?" Her expression was concerned.

Clark regarded their reflections in the mirror. Lois was so tiny compared to him, yet he was sure that if she tried, she could bring him down to his knees. One of the reasons he loved her was because she had never tried.

"I don't know," he said, picking up his own toothbrush.

"I saw what she did for you in Times Square."

"I didn't realize you had seen the tape before Luthor ordered a squash." The video of the scene had included footage of Air Force One falling to the ground, and Luthor as a giant spider. The administration had considered both things a danger to national security and morale, and ordered all media companies to destroy any copies of the video.

"I did." She rinsed her mouth. "Funny, Wayne had ordered it pulled before the official order had come out."

Clark hid a smile. Lois didn't know that Wayne had been in the tape, a shadowy figure in the background dressed in black tights and a cape. "Maybe someone high up called him before the wire was sent out."

"Maybe." She shrugged. "Anyway, she helped you through your grief, at a time when I wasn't so sure that I could do that." Her face was serious. "I wanted to be mad at her, but I can only thank her for what she did. She's a spectacular woman."

He also loved that she could look at a video of a beautiful woman comforting him and appreciate what the woman was doing instead of being torn by jealousy. Her trust in him humbled him. "Don't you mean a wonderful woman?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "Your corny small town roots are showing, Clark."

He made a show of checking his hair. "Where?"

She laughed, then wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I'll show you a wonderful woman if you go back to the bedroom with me."

"You'll dress up in her costume? My dream come true," he teased, then dodged the hair dryer.

He ran from the room, letting her catch him near the sofa. The exciting life of a superhero be damned, he thought--life would be dull without Lois.

***

Diana slept until three in the afternoon, then lounged around, catching up on the stack of newspapers that had accumulated while she had been busy running between Gotham and her other duties as Wonder Woman.

Batman wouldn't be expecting her tonight; she was attending and participating in a lecture at Boston College that evening, to be followed by dinner. Bruce had told her the week before that he would only contact her if there was a dire emergency, which meant, she knew, that he wouldn't be contacting her even if the world was ending.

Tomorrow she would be attending the Wayne dinner and auction; she would see him soon enough then. Right now, she didn't want to think about him.

Her lasso hung from her bed post. She hadn't yet used it. She was waiting, she told herself, until she knew the right questions to ask herself.

Asking herself if she loved him was completely different than asking if she was in love with him.

She heard the front door open and slam, then the familiar tread of her sister's walk across the marble entryway. Diana shrugged into a robe and rushed out of her bedroom.

"Donna?"

Donna smiled wearily, dropped a duffel bag onto the floor beside a sofa, and collapsed into its cushions. "Hey, Di." She yawned and stretched. "I am so tired, I didn't even have the energy to fly up to the balcony."

Probably for the best, Diana thought. No use in letting everyone know where they lived by flying in and out. Then she grimaced. That sounded like something Batman would think.

"When did you get back?" Diana sat in the chair adjacent to the sofa, then turned so that her legs rested on the arm, with her back against the chair's other arm. Comfort, she thought, was important. She planned to talk to her sister for a while.

Donna checked the clock above the mantle. "About an hour ago. It took us a little longer than we expected to make the mine structure safe again once we got everyone out." She groaned. "For two weeks we've been moving rocks."

"You helped them." Diana thought that was worth any effort.

Donna smiled. "I know, I know." She looked around the room, as if trying to notice changes. "It just feels like I've been gone forever. Has anything happened since I've been gone?" She seemed to think of something, and suddenly sat up. "Diana, you wouldn't believe the rumors I've heard since we've been in radio contact. About you and --" She burst into laughter. "About you and B..B--" She laughed harder, unable to finish the sentence. She wiped her eyes, tried once more. "About you and B--" She sputtered again.

Diana decided to help her out. "Batman?"

"Yes!" Donna howled. "You've heard them, too? Isn't it outrageous?" she added when she could talk again.

"Outrageous," Diana agreed, smiling. "And true."

Donna froze mid-guffaw. Her eyes wide, she said, "Huh?"

Diana nodded.

"You actually helped Batman rape a monkey?"

Diana's jaw dropped. "No!"

Laughing, Donna said, "Just kidding, sis. So what did happen? I just heard something about the kitchen and GL finding you and Bats in a...um, compromising position."

"That's exactly what happened. And I was going to ask you about it."

"Me?" Donna lay back down on the sofa. "I thought you knew about the birds and bees."

"I am speaking of the spell on the Watchtower's refrigerator."

Donna blushed. "You know about that? It was just a joke and--" She stopped, and closed her eyes. "Please don't tell me it had anything to do with you and Batman doing the nasty."

The nasty? Diana wasn't sure she had heard it phrased that way before. It didn't seem like an accurate description. "We think so."

"Rhea," Donna breathed. She sat up again, placed her hand on Diana's. "Diana, I swear to you that it wasn't supposed to affect you. It was specifically designed and intended for Kyle."

"What was it supposed to do?"

"A bunch of us were out for dinner one night, and Kyle made a joke about women and their ice cream, and their hips. We girls decided to think of a way to get back at him. I came up with the idea." She hesitated. "Diana, I got the spell from Magala. Before..."

Before Fury ripped out Magala's heart. Ariadne's heart.

"What exactly was the spell?"

Donna scrunched her eyebrows together and tried to remember precisely, then recited, "'By the gods of Olympus, for the light of green from the woman of wonder, I implore that desire unrevealed, want not wanted, shall be realized; until the cold has been warmed or the object of affection has been destroyed.' Magala said the 'cold' was the ice cream. And that the green light was GL, of course." She turned agonized eyes on Diana. "But, Di, she told me that 'from woman of wonder' meant that it was just a way for me to give the spell instead of her. But do you think...?"

"That she was really directing it at me?" Diana asked, expression grim. "Yes."

"Diana, I'm sorry." Donna's face was grave. "I had no reason to believe that Magala would do evil at that time. We didn't know that she was really Ariadne."

"I know, sister," Diana said gently. "Ariadne must have thought that I would give into some unspoken urge, and that somehow that would damage my standing in Man's World or with the Amazons." Until the object of affection is destroyed. That explained GL's release from the spell. When she had destroyed the fridge, she had destroyed the ice cream. Did that mean for her and Batman to be released that she would have to destroy him? Or herself?

That wasn't going to happen. There had to be another way. She thought of one, but wanted to test something first. She got up, strode to her room for her lasso, and looped it around her waist.

"Am I under the influence of Ariadne's spell?"

The answer came from her mouth instantly. "No."

Diana frowned. It was as she had thought, but why had the spell broken? The reason struck her a second later.

Until the cold has been warmed. She was in love with Batman. Her frown deepened. Ariadne had intended for her to fall in love--why? It was hardly something that Diana considered a punishment.

Unless, of course, the punishment was that Batman wanted her against his will. Or that she fell in love with a man who would never return the feeling.

And, she realized, that meant something else: Batman wasn't in love, so he was still under the spell's influence. That meant she would have to get the anti-spell from Ariadne.

Which meant she would have to travel to the Underworld. Donna came into the room after her. She would go alone, Diana decided, looking at her sister; she wouldn't put anyone in danger because of this.

And she wouldn't tell Batman. At least, not all of it.

"So are you under the spell?" Donna flopped onto Diana's bed and snuggled into the pillows.

"No," Diana said absently, planning her actions.

"Ah, good." Donna yawned sleepily and closed her eyes. She opened them again, blue irises twinkling. "So, how was it?"

"What?"

"You know." Donna moved her hips up and down on the bed. Diana laughed. "With Batman."

"Well," Diana said, grinning, and joined her sister on the bed and settled in for a session of girl talk. "He's picked up some interesting tricks in his travels, I think."

"Do tell, do tell!" Donna urged.

Diana did.

***

Bruce quickly scanned the surrounding buildings, then lifted himself from his balcony onto Diana's. How convenient, he thought, that one of his subsidiaries in New York owned the building that she had moved into, and that they had an executive penthouse on the floor below hers. He didn't question the serendipity of the arrangement; he simply accepted it. He'd leave questions of fate and destiny in the hands of people who had more time to ponder them.

The lights in her penthouse weren't on; he'd checked the schedule she'd filed with the JLA, and it had indicated that she had a newspaper interview at three, then a ribbon cutting ceremony at five. He was scheduled to pick her up at eight. He'd estimated the time the ceremony would take, then flight time from the site--she should be back by six thirty at the earliest. He glanced at his watch. Five forty-five. Good. That gave him plenty of time to determine whether her penthouse was secure.

If she was working with him, she would play by some of his rules whether she knew it or not. That included weekly sweeps for transmitting devices and the installation of discreet sound dampeners. She was a celebrity--a reporter would love to get a scoop off of her. He just didn't want that scoop to be an overheard conversation between Batman and Wonder Woman.

He remained in his civilian clothing; he had left his Bat costume tucked in a locked compartment on the Wayne Corporation's private jet. It left him with a slightly odd, exposed feeling; although he was always Batman underneath Bruce Wayne, he rarely mixed the two as he was doing now--there were simply too many chances to make an error. Using the wrong voice. Being caught doing un-billionaire-like things. Although it had never happened, and being Bruce in civilian clothes was almost second nature, there was always the off chance of a mistake. One could never be too careful.

And just being in Bruce Wayne's clothes made his personality, his inner thoughts seem different. Most of the time, he didn't want to take the risk that the Bruce Wayne in him would override the Batman.

Not that it had ever happened. Not that he would ever allow it to happen.

Except with Diana. His presence in her penthouse was proof of that. He frowned thoughtfully as he removed an electronic detector from his inner jacket pocket, and set to work sweeping for bugs.

He'd had sex with her. That, he could blame on magical interference. But what about the rest? He'd let her train with Batgirl and himself. He'd let her patrol his city--hell, he'd let her in his city. He'd allowed her to work with him on the Joker case, and had let Gordon and a few other officers see her with him.

Either he was becoming very sloppy, or the spell was having more impact on him than he would have assumed. After all, it had only stated that he would act upon 'want not wanted'. That explained the sex with Diana.

So, if it was the spell, what else did he want? He affixed a sound dampener to the inside of a vent. A partner to patrol his city? Nonsense. He had Batgirl, Oracle, and if he asked, Nightwing, Robin and Spoiler. Even the Huntress or Azreal. Someone to share his mission? Diana had her own mission, and, again, he had his Bat family to share in his quest to protect Gotham and to bring criminals to justice.

Donna's bedroom was free of bugs; he attached a transmission scanner to the bottom of her nightstand, then unscrewed the light fixture above her bed to install another dampener. He worked smoothly, automatically, the task made simple by repetition. He'd installed many of these electronics before.

He forced himself to turn his thoughts from the situation with Diana to the mystery of the Joker -- he didn't know whether the spell was causing him to act out of character, so he would wait until he found out, one way or another, before he made a decision about Diana. He could wait a while; one thing that the Batman had was patience. He didn't think he'd have to wait long: Donna had arrived home yesterday. In all probability, Diana had already asked her about the spell and was working on a way to break it; then, things would return to normal.

Normal. Training sessions without Diana. Patrols without Diana. Nights without Diana's laugh, wit, compassion and unwitting sensuality.

The Joker, he reminded himself. Focus on the Joker.

He hadn't been able to find any link between Farletti and Nichols, except that the Joker had killed them both. With a poisoned apple, according to the medical examiner's report. The Joker had made them eat the apples; why he delivered the poison in that manner, Batman wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that it was the Joker's clue to the police detectives, and to Batman. But Bruce wasn't sure if the apple was the joke or the punchline.

He'd considered several possibilities: the apple as the fruit of knowledge, the poisoned apple from the Snow White story; and in relation to food, Nichols' area of expertise, the list was endless. He didn't know about Farletti, though; in any case, all of the ideas he had come up with had felt … wrong. There was something that he was missing, that he couldn't put his finger on. His computer could find a million links to apples in a second, but if he didn't know the right question to ask it, all of the links it found were useless. He had to find out the Joker's angle.

Which he would do tonight, hopefully. The Joker loved to play with Gotham's elite; he would get his chance at the charity auction tonight. Where he would be Bruce Wayne and Diana would be Wonder Woman.

He smiled at the irony of it. Just yesterday he had told her that she couldn't be Wonder Woman in Gotham, and now it was an integral part of his plan to capture the Joker.

In hindsight, he now knew what had set her off. It hadn't just been the belt. It had been his words. You're not Wonder Woman. Superman had told him about that day, about his desperate flight to save the woman falling from the sky wearing Wonder Woman's armor, whom Clark had thought was Diana. But it had been her mother. He had reached Hippolyta, then Diana had shoved him away, cradling her mother's dying body. Afterwards, Clark had told him, Diana had said that she'd told her mother that Hippolyta wasn't Wonder Woman. That she'd told her mother she wasn't strong enough to stop the Imperiex probe.

Bruce finished in the kitchen. Only Diana's room left. He made his way silently toward that door.

Guilt over her mother. If he could be glad about anything regarding his parents death, it was that he knew that they loved him, and that they had died knowing they had their son's absolute love. There was nothing that he had said that he regretted.

But why, he wondered now, would her mother's death make her lose faith in her mission? If anything, Hippolyta's actions would seem to reinforce everything that Wonder Woman stood for, and her death should have made Diana more certain of her goals, her place in the world. Stop war before more people died. Before more daughters lost their mothers.

The way that his own mission had been formed with his parents death. No more loss of life due to crime in Gotham.

Diana's room was in shadow, the drapes drawn against the light of the city below, so it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust from the half-light of the penthouse to the near darkness of the bedroom. Took a few seconds for him to register the figure that was kneeling on a rug in front of a cold, dark fireplace.

He swore silently to himself. He should have verified that she had attended the events on her schedule. A huge mistake, the kind that under other circumstances could get him killed.

And this was worse than death. This could lead to loss of control. She was truly, truly beautiful.

She knelt in profile to him, her eyes closed, her bronzed skin pearlescent in the dim light. The subtle glow of her lasso, wrapped around her waist, emphasized the feminine curve of her warrior's body, her perfect form. A woman of steel--steel body, iron courage. In her, the antipodal phrase seemed to fit, as surely as the idea of a peaceful warrior made sense when it was applied to her. A woman who could own her contradictions. A childhood rhyme, inexplicably, ran through his mind:

He wouldn't let her get him, get to him. He closed his eyes, fighting arousal, fighting the sudden desire to go to her, to take her, to make her his. Make her Batman's.

"You're early." Her voice was low.

He let Bruce Wayne take over. "I came to see if you needed help getting dressed. But if you are just wearing that, well, gold looks good on you."

Diana opened her eyes, looked down at her naked, lassoed form, then at Bruce. "Ah, Bruce Wayne, I see." Her voice matched his, playful, but he was struck by the serenity of her countenance, of the peaceful light in her gaze. She hadn't displayed that kind of tranquility for weeks, and the last time he had seen her, she was leaving the cave in a state of high agitation and confusion.

Caused, he reminded himself contritely, by his own near attack on her and subsequent avowal that he would never give in to baser impulses. He understood her anger yesterday; his own response to her goading had been unacceptable.

He glanced at the lasso. It could compel someone to do what she commanded. Had she given herself a false sense of peace? He stifled a grunt of disapproval. As much as he hid most of his thoughts and feelings from others, he was always brutally honest with himself, and had always imagined that Diana was, as well. She didn't need to lasso herself to tell the truth; she would know whether she was lying or not. Compulsion was the only reason for her to use it on herself.

Unless, he thought, the lasso had properties that she hadn't told anyone else about.

He liked that idea even less.

"Meditation is good for the soul, I hear." He didn't let his voice betray his dark thoughts. Bruce Wayne's voice.

She slanted him a disbelieving look as she stood. "I know you studied Eastern techniques for years, which means you must have had hours of meditation. You know as well as I do." She stretched and yawned, then unwrapped the lasso. "Did you let yourself in?"

"Yes," he said simply. Then, innocently, "What do you meditate about?"

She smiled slightly. "I thought the point of meditation was not to have it be about anything." She opened an adjoining door, an entrance to a large closet, where she pulled a t-shirt from a hanger, and jeans from a shelf. "Why were you skulking around out there? I could hear you."

She'd heard him, another mistake. And she must have known it was him, because she hadn't come to investigate. "I was sweeping for bugs and installing sound nullifying equipment." He watched as she pulled on the jeans, then slipped into the shirt. One thing about being Bruce Wayne, he thought, was that he didn't have any shame. "Why the lasso with the meditation? Does it help you focus?"

She looped her hair through an elastic, examining her reflection in the mirror above a vanity. "You're paranoid," she said finally. "And I use the lasso to search out lies in myself." She turned to him. "And for your information, I've already installed nullifiers, though not for the same reason as you, probably." She grinned. "I have superhearing, so does Donna. We like to get a good nights rest, which, in the middle of New York, wouldn't be easy. And I don't necessarily want to hear everything that goes on in her room, either."

"Paranoia is a handy survival tool," he said, then added, "Did you find any lies?"

"Yes, but I found truths, too." She took his hand, led him out into a family room. She could crush his hand with barely a squeeze, but he didn't pull away. Her palm was cool and dry against his. "And I suppose it's not paranoia if they are really after you, hmm? Coffee?" She asked, and indicated for him to sit on one of the overstuffed sofas.

"I'm after them, but paranoia still applies. And yes, I'd like a cup." They still had quite a bit of time before they needed to get to the airport. He switched back to the topic that interested him. "What lies and truths did you find?"

"About myself, my mission." With that, she left the room without expounding whether it had been truths or lies that she had found in each. Bruce let out a sigh of frustration. Diana didn't lie, but she wasn't offering a lot of information, either. At least, he thought, it wasn't as he had assumed. She wasn’t forcing herself to find peace; she really had been looking for truth in herself with the lasso.

He smiled grimly. God forbid the lasso should ever be used on him. Just lately she had forced Superman to confront his grief with it, leaving him bawling in her arms in the middle of Times Square. With him, he'd either be revealed as a scared little boy or a raving psychopath. He gave a little self-disparaging laugh in the empty room. Or he'd jump on Diana and lose himself in lust. Either way, he thought, the results would be disheartening. The inner workings of Batman's heart weren't meant to be laid bare--it was a dark place, best left alone.

He was best alone.

Diana returned with a carafe of coffee in one hand and a precariously balanced tray holding mugs, cream and sugar in the other. Bruce jumped up and grabbed the tray, setting it down on the low sofa table.

"Thanks," Diana said. "There are times when telekinesis would be handier than super-strength." She poured the coffee, mixed in cream and sugar. "So what is the plan for tonight?"

Batman's voice. "It's as I outlined yesterday. You'll have backup on the outside from Oracle, Nightwing and Robin. I'll have Batgirl inside, working on the periphery." Cassandra was willing to forego her secret identity, which allowed Batman to use her in ways that he couldn't use Tim, Dick and Barbara. "She'll be in a waitress uniform. I've instructed them not to engage the Joker himself, only his cronies. If they are non-powered. Their primary function is to make sure the crowd is safe. I've developed an antidote to be deployed through the ventilation system should the Joker poison the group." He pulled a small vial and hypodermic from his suit pocket. "Wear this under your clothing. If you are infected, immediately inject yourself. I'll have one as well."

She took the contraption, studied it, then nodded. "Any new information on Ellie Nichols and John Farletti?"

He told her about the apple, hoping that she might have some insight into a joke that he had missed. She didn't. Finally, she finished her coffee and stood up.

"I should shower and get ready. Did you want to wait here or will we meet somewhere?"

He leaned back in the sofa. There was one more issue they needed to discuss.

"I'll wait here." He could change quickly in the penthouse below while she bathed and dressed. He didn't want to be in here while she was wet and naked less than fifty yards away. "Have you spoken with Donna?"

Diana gathered the mugs, rattling them against each other. "Yes." She glanced up at him, then averted her eyes. "I'm going to Themyscira after the auction tonight to get the counterspell from Magala. Donna got the spell from her as a joke on Kyle, but I guess she got a word or two wrong, which is why it affected us. But it'll be easy enough to get rid of." She hefted the tray, walked to the doorway, and said over her shoulder, "There are newspapers under the coffee table, and the remote is on top of the television. The computer is connected to the Watchtower's network. Make yourself at home." She left the room.

He frowned at her retreating back. Diana, former goddess of truth, superhero who searched for falsehoods with a golden lasso, had just lied through her teeth to him about the spell.

And, he promised himself, after Joker's capture, he'd find out why.