DISCLAIMER: The Justice League of America
characters are the property of DC Comics. The story contents are the creation and
property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2005 by Djinn. This story is Rated
PG-13.
Clean Hands and Broken Hearts
by Djinn
Clark watched as more of the
enemy filled the sky. Glancing below him, he saw Diana fighting next to J'onn. She blocked an OMAC, but another got past her
defenses, its sword-arm hitting her armor and bouncing off, missing her heart. But
the blade skidded along her arm, leaving a bloody trail. It added to the blood
already covering her. She stabbed the OMAC through the heart with her sword.
"They're humans,"
Clark yelled at her, dropping altitude. "Underneath that OMAC tech is a
human being."
"I don't care. They're
the enemy." She glared at him. "We're not all invincible. We can't
all just turn the other cheek."
He sighed even as he knocked
an OMAC away from him and into another one. They fell to the ground, far below.
"I don't see you going
after them." Diana met another OMAC with a ferocity that Clark had rarely
seen outside of Asgard. "I don't see you flying
down to save them."
He closed his eyes for a
moment. This was the old argument from Asgard. He'd
left so many of the enemy nearly dead. But he'd never killed.
They die anyway, he heard in his mind. J'onn
was listening in to his thoughts? She needs you. J'onn
sounded exhausted as he phased in and out, putting down more OMACs than Clark
and Diana did together, as the creatures stabbed each other whenever J'onn ceased to be where they thought he was.
Diana hasn't needed me for
some time, he said to J'onn in his mind, but he knew it was a lie. He'd turned
his back on her when she'd killed Max Lord. He'd run away from her, judged her
wanting, and left her alone.
So had Bruce. Her two best
friends, and they'd abandoned her.
I have never sensed such
isolation in her.
We're all isolated. Clark tried not to think of Lois. He felt J'onn withdraw from his mind, but not before Clark had
played back their last conversation. Lois hadn't been happy with him. Lois was
rarely happy with him these days.
Diana passed in front of him,
knocking aside an OMAC as she went. "Pay attention, Superman." She'd
stopped calling him Kal after he'd shut her out. After
she killed Lord.
The group of OMACs they were
fighting withdrew suddenly. Diana sighed as she watched them go. The cut on her
arm was bleeding profusely.
He moved closer. "Will
you let me help you?"
"Yes." She didn't
move, didn't look at him, as he used his heat vision to close the wound.
He'd done it before—she was
covered in small burns from his ministrations. Fortunately, she healed fast. "Do
you want me to do the rest?"
She was drifting in the air,
eyes half closed. He'd never seen her look so exhausted. "Diana?"
She nodded, still not looking
at him.
"You need sleep,"
he said as he worked.
"Don't tell me what I
need." Her voice was full of anger, which was an improvement over her
normal coldness. Normal since Lord's death. She'd never been cold to Clark
before then.
"You used to need
me."
Her head whipped around, and
he thought she was going to strike him. "Damn you," she said, pulling
away from him and flying off.
He sighed—what the hell had
prompted him to say that? He glanced over at J'onn
and saw his friend shake his head. But he didn't comment, out loud or in
Clark's head.
##
"What are you thinking
about?"
Clark looked over at Lois. She'd
pushed her plate away and was staring at him.
"Nothing."
"I'm nothing?" She
was about to get up, so he put his hand over hers. "You were staring at
me, Clark. With that tortured look you wear all the time now."
He looked away. He'd been
thinking of the visions Lord had given him. Visions of Lois dying. Over and
over and over. Each time different. Each time terrifying.
He'd wanted to kill for her. If
he had, would Diana have judged him the way he'd judged her when she'd saved
him?
"Do you even see me
anymore, Clark?" Lois asked. "The real me, not the dead me?"
"Don't talk like
that."
"That's the problem. You
won't let us talk about this." She pulled away from him, but they both
knew it was because he let her. She stared down at where their hands had been
joined. ""You dwell on my death. No, you obsess over it, Clark. It
makes it hard to live. I don't think you even know I'm alive anymore." She
walked over to the window, staring out at Metropolis.
"Turn around,
Lois."
"No. You'll just
distract me with your forlorn puppy-dog look. And I won't be able to stay mad
because I'll feel so sorry for you. But this is serious, Clark."
"I'm tired, Lois."
"Then go to bed." She
did turn, her expression hurt and angry. "Go to sleep, and I'll
pack."
"Don't be like
this." He rubbed his eyes. He wasn't physically tired so much as
emotionally drained.
"Clark, I'm hurting,
too."
He met her eyes and saw the
hopeless look in them. "Lois, come here. Please?" He held his arms
out.
Closing her eyes as if in
defeat, she walked to him, letting him enfold her, letting him protect her and
keep her safe.
"I love you," he
said.
She just nodded and let him
rock her. When he finally let go of her, she went into the bedroom and shut the
door. Getting up, he walked to the door to join her.
It was locked.
He could have broken through
it easily. But he didn't. Instead, he went to his study and sat in his desk
chair, staring out at the lights of his city, waiting for the next call to arms
from the League.
##
The Watchtower was a siege area.
Metas were coming from everywhere to get medical treatment, weapons, or
instructions. Clark watched as Bruce briefed each new group on their
objectives, then sent them on their way.
He saw Diana sitting by the
window, watching Bruce. She sighed and looked away.
Walking over to where she
was, Clark perched on the arm of a chair. "Hello."
She looked up at him slowly,
her eyes red from lack of sleep, new wounds on her neck and arms. There was no
welcome in her expression; no words of greeting crossed her lips.
"You should wear your
armor. You're taking too much damage."
She looked down at her arms
as if seeing them for the first time. "Am I less pretty now?"
He frowned. She'd never been
concerned with that before.
Smiling bitterly, she met his
eyes. "Would you have loved me if I was less pretty then?"
"I would have loved you
no matter how you looked." The words were out before he could call them
back. He and Diana didn't talk about things like this. Love was not something
they addressed—not this kind of love anyway. Not love-love.
"Well, give the OMACs
time, and we can put that to the test." She rose slowly, and he could tell
she was nearly to the breaking point.
Pulling her slowly to him, he
held her, shocked that she'd allow it. He could hear Bruce on the other side of
the room—his friend faltered in his briefing, stuttering as he must have caught
sight of Clark holding Diana.
"Kal,
don't." Her voice was broken. Low and soft and hurt. He'd never heard her
sound so lost.
"I miss you," he
murmured, burying his face in her hair.
She pushed him away despite
how tightly he was holding on. She was one of the few people who could do that.
"It was your choice. Your
doing." She stared at him, then swayed as if she might fall down.
"You need sleep."
This time she didn't tell him
what she needed was none of his business. She just closed her eyes and said,
"I gave my room to J'onn to use as an
infirmary."
He knew she wasn't sleeping
at the Embassy anymore. Knew that she didn't want to expose her staff to the
OMACs and their relentless attacks. The OMACs might have been fighting for
humanity, but they took an enormous number of humans with them as collateral
damage when they fought the metas.
"Use my room,"
Clark said. "I won't disturb you. I give you my
word."
He thought she'd refuse, but
then she swayed again.
"Diana, you're no good
to us if you can't even stay on your feet."
Nodding, she turned and
walked away from him. He followed her with his super-vision until he was sure
she'd gone into his room. He waited until she lay down on his bed—nearly
collapsed on it—then let her sleep unobserved.
"What are you
doing?" Bruce's voice was beyond cold.
"What does it matter to
you?" He faced his friend—his former friend.
"You have a wife. A wife
you nearly killed me to protect, or have you forgotten?"
Clark sighed. "I don't
know who you are anymore." He saw that Bruce was going to say something
and cut him off. "Diana's going to get herself killed. She's too tired. I
can't—I won't let that happen when I can help her."
He saw something in Bruce's
eyes—was it jealousy? Or envy, perhaps, that Clark
could forget his scruples when the woman they both loved was in such a dark
place?
"You could help her,
too, Bruce." Clark didn't think he and Bruce would ever regain the ease
they'd once known, but if Bruce reached out to Diana now, it might be the first
step toward detente for the three of them.
"She's a killer." But
Bruce said it as if it was the last thing he had to hold onto. As if he wasn't
sure anymore that what Diana had done was equal to what Diana was. Clark
swallowed hard. He'd made the same mistake. She was who she'd always been. A
woman who would make hard choices. A woman who would do hard things.
A woman he loved with all his
heart. A woman he thought Bruce also loved deeply and irrevocably.
He reached out and laid a
hand on Bruce's arm. "Bruce—"
His friend shook his hand off
and walked away without another word, gathering the next group together. Clark
listened in on the briefing just long enough to decide that Bruce was missing
his normal edge. Then he went back out into the fray.
##
Lois walked along the edge of
the cliff, not close enough to make Clark nervous, but he still watched her. He
had visions of the OMACs attacking, pushing her over the cliff in the first
wave of fighters.
"You're doing it
again."
He realized he was staring at
her, his hands clenched so hard they were white. "No, I'm not," he
said as he relaxed his grip.
She walked to him, her gait
steady, but he could tell by the expression on her face what she was going to
say.
"Lois, no."
She closed her eyes and took
a deep breath.
"No, I can change."
"I can't do this
anymore," she whispered.
If he hadn't been a meta, he
wouldn't have heard her. Was that a good sign? That she could barely get it
out? Did that mean he could save this? "It'll get better. I promise."
She slowly rolled up her
sleeve, showing him a livid bruise on her forearm.
He was to her in an instant,
practically yelling. "Who did this to you?"
She smiled, a half-smile,
bitter and sad. "You did."
"When?" Had he
gripped her too tightly while they'd flown somewhere? Had he done that in the
throes of sex?
"Two nights ago. You
were dreaming. About my death, I suppose. Awake or asleep, it's all you think
about."
He bent down, kissing her
arm, trying to make the bruise better the way a child believed his parents
could. Lois jerked her arm away.
"Lois, please. I didn't
mean to."
"I know. That's what
makes this so hard. I know you're doing this because you love me. But...it's
not a healthy love, anymore, Clark. It's sick." She swallowed hard. "We're
sick. And we're never going to get well together. We'll just keep reinfecting
each other."
"Lois..."
"Take me home, Clark. I'm
leaving in the morning." She was crying and seemed to stumble blindly into
his arms. "I love you so much, but I can't do this, anymore. I'm
sorry."
"But you'll be in town. We
can see each other, can't we?"
She couldn't meet his eyes.
"Lois?"
"I've accepted a job in
London. It's for two years. Maybe...once it's over and this war is done....maybe we can see if..." She looked at him, shaking
her head.
"Two years? I can fly
there. It's only a few minutes and—"
She held up a hand. "You
have to leave me alone, Clark. I want your promise that you'll leave me
alone."
"Lois..."
"Promise me!" She
was yelling and crying all at once, and he could feel her pain as if it was a
wave of OMACs beating up against his heart.
He rose in the air, already
taking them home. "I promise I'll leave you alone."
Lois nodded, not watching as
he took her on what was probably their last flight together.
##
"You can have my
room," Clark said to Diana as she walked into his quarters. "I'm
moving to the Fortress."
She didn't say anything, so
he turned to look at her. She had a shallow cut on her leg, and it was bleeding
slightly. She was very pale, as if she'd lost blood—more blood than could have
come from a wound that mild.
"Diana?"
She didn't answer, just
slowly slid down the wall to the floor. Above her, on the wall where she'd
touched it, was a long streak of blood.
"Diana, what
the..." He moved to her as she fell to her side, coughing up blood. Through
her back was a deep stab wound. He followed it with his super-vision, found
that it went all the way through—the breastplate had stopped the OMAC from
puncturing the front of her uniform. "I told you to wear your armor."
"I loaned it to—" Her
voice broke as she coughed up more blood.
Picking her up, he cradled
her in his arms and walked to the teleporter. He had to pass Bruce on the way,
and his friend looked at Diana in alarm.
"Don't let him—" More
blood, this time spattering Clark's uniform.
"I won't." He
wasn't sure what she didn't want him to let Bruce do. But he didn't care. He
just wanted to get her to the Fortress. He abandoned walking, flew to the
teleporter, leaving Bruce in his wake. He and Diana materialized in the air
over open water, and he flew the rest of the way.
"Kal..."
Her eyes were strange, and he wondered how much blood she'd lost.
"It's going to be all
right."
"I had to do it. I
didn't betray you."
He knew she was talking about
Max Lord.
"Kal,
I know you hate me, but I did what I had to do." She coughed again,
harder, nearly throwing up the blood this time. "I'm dying." She
seemed to want to say more but was gagging on blood.
"No, you're not." They
were inside the Fortress now, and he rushed to the healing ray, ripping her
uniform off as quickly as he could without hurting her.
She moaned as the ray started
to work, then she began to shiver violently.
He couldn't cover her with a
blanket, not with the ray working on her, so he raised the temperature in the
room by blasting the wall tiles with his heat vision. The room was soon
sweltering, but she finally stopped shivering. She'd stopped bleeding, too.
She opened her eyes, and her
expression was wounded—he'd never seen her look so alone. He leaned down, wanting
to make her feel better, wanting to ease her pain. Brushing back her hair, he
kissed her forehead.
She began to cry, shocking
him. "I'm so lonely," she whispered, as he continued to stroke her
hair.
"Don't be. Shhh."
She didn't say it again, but her
tears didn't stop.
"Diana, I don't hate
you. I love you," he said, then he kissed her, slowly and gently on the
lips.
She kissed him back for a
moment, then stopped and he let her go.
"Lois," she said. It
was all they'd ever had to say in the past.
"Lois left me." It
was something he'd never said before. He saw Diana's brows knit, as if this was
hard to understand. "She left me."
"But what you did for
her. You..." She coughed again, and Clark was relieved to see much less
blood. "Why?"
"She said I was obsessed
with her dying." He looked down. "She wasn't wrong."
He leaned down again, kissing
her on the forehead again. "Sleep."
She didn't argue; she was
already halfway asleep. He took her hand as she slept, watching over her as the
ray did its work. As her breathing leveled out and her color improved, he
studied her, noticing the new scars that peppered her skin, over and under
where her uniform covered—more of the OMACs had gotten to her than he realized.
He'd stopped checking, had found it depressing to see the damage to her and
knew she didn't like him spying on her.
He heard footsteps coming
down the hall and wasn't surprised to see Bruce come in the room. He'd always
suspected his friend had programmed this supposedly secret location into the
teleporter. "Trespassing?" he asked softly.
"Checking up on a
wounded soldier."
"She's out of the fight
for a while."
"We need her."
Clark let go of her hand and
got up, blocking Bruce's view of Diana's nude form. "Get out."
Bruce's face went tight. "That's
what I told her." He seemed to slump against the doorframe. "We shut
her out."
"Yes, we did."
Bruce looked up at him. "We
shut each other out, too."
Clark just nodded.
Straightening up to his full
height, Bruce backed away. "Lord won, then. He won, no matter how this war
turns out."
"Lois left me." He
wanted Bruce to understand how things were.
"I wondered." Turning,
his friend studied him. "Does Diana know?"
"She does now. The real
question is does she care?"
"I think she does."
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment. "I better get back."
"When did you last
sleep?"
Bruce looked at him in
surprise.
"I'll tell you what I
told Diana. You're no good to us if you can't even stay on your feet." He
turned Bruce so he was staring at a darkened room. "There's a bed in
there. Use it."
He didn't wait to see if
Bruce was going to cooperate, just walked back to Diana. But he listened, and
finally he heard his friend walk across the hall, heard the sound of bedsprings
as Bruce lay down. A few moments later, he heard Bruce's breathing change to
the rhythm of sleep.
"Will we be all
right?" Diana's voice was barely a whisper.
He hadn't been aware she'd
awakened. "We will be, love."
She smiled and closed her
eyes, drifting back into sleep. He hoped her dreams were gentle ones.
##
The Fortress was quiet as
Clark limped in. There were enough OMACs in this latest wave that even he was
feeling the pain tonight.
"Diana?" he called,
staggering to the common area.
She looked up, an alarmed
expression on her face. Then she was up, moving too fast across the thick rug.
He tried to wave her away. "Don't.
You're still weak—"
She caught him as he
collapsed. But she was still too weak to hold him, and they crumpled together
to the carpet.
"You're exhausted,"
she said, not resisting as he pulled her closer. Reaching up to the chair she'd
been sitting in, she snagged the comforter he'd wrapped her in before he left,
pulling it around them.
"Just need to
sleep," he murmured as she relaxed against him. They lay like that for a
while, then he whispered, "Sleep with me, Diana."
But she was already asleep,
her soft breath warm against his neck.
He closed his eyes and slept,
too. When he woke, Bruce was sitting in the chair Diana had abandoned. She was
still pressed against his side, sleeping deeply.
"Guess you two have
patched up your differences?"
"Not yet. We're getting
there." He had a feeling Bruce was asking if they'd made love. He and
Diana were still working out how to relate after the ice age that had sprung up
between them when she'd killed Lord. This was the closest they'd been, and
they'd only gotten this far because he hadn't known when to take a break and
rest.
Thank God he hadn't known
when to rest. The feeling of her next to him was heaven.
"Why are you here,
Bruce?"
"I was actually worried
about you. You looked terrible when you left the Watchtower."
"Probably because I felt
terrible. I'm all right now."
Bruce glanced at Diana, then
back at him. "Yes, I'm sure you are."
Diana moaned softly and pushed
against Clark, then she opened her eyes, blinking in the light. "Kal?"
"We have company,"
he said softly, looking at the chair she'd been using.
She turned and stared at
Bruce. "Hi."
"Hi." His
expression softened, and Clark wondered if Bruce had ever told Diana how much
he loved her. "How are you feeling?"
"Better." Her voice
was tentative, and she pressed up against Clark a bit more—unconsciously, he
thought.
Bruce looked away. "Good.
That's good."
"How are you?"
Clark asked him.
"I'm all right." Bruce
got up, pacing away from them. "It's hell out there. I need you two back
as soon as you're fit."
"I'm fit now." Clark
sat up, pulling Diana with him, suddenly feeling vulnerable lying on the rug. The
blanket fell away from them, and Clark saw Bruce's expression relax as he
realized they were clothed.
"I'll be fit soon."
She pushed herself up so she was sitting on her own, not leaning against Clark.
"Two days, I think."
Clark thought three.
"Take as long as you
need," Bruce said, his eyes soft, his voice tender.
"Why are you being so
nice?" Her voice wasn't gentle, anymore; it was hard and cold. A voice
Clark hadn't heard since he'd brought her here. It made him irrationally happy
that she was using that tone on Bruce. Then it made him worried—did that mean
she had stronger feelings for Bruce than she had for Clark? Should he wish she
was mean to him, too?
"Because I regret this
distance between us." Bruce's honesty surprised Clark.
It seemed to surprise Diana,
as well. She was silent for a moment, then she said softly, "This distance
was never my idea. I came to you..."
"I know." Bruce
took a deep breath. "What you did is in the past."
"Not good enough. Not if
you still hold it against me."
"Are you sure Clark
doesn't hold it against you?"
She turned and looked at him.
He knew this was an important
moment. "You did what you did for me. And for Bruce. And for Lois. For
everyone that you loved and for a billion people you don't even know. You did
what had to be done. I was a fool to think that made you someone I didn't know
anymore." He touched her face and was grateful when she didn't pull away. "I
watched you kill for a thousand years. I know you can kill. Just as you know I
can't."
"You won't. You nearly
did." Bruce's voice was soft, as if he knew this was an important moment
too. As if he knew he'd just lost.
Diana closed her eyes. Clark
wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but she lay back down and curled up,
her head in his lap.
Bruce nodded slowly, as if
conceding the fight. "I'll see you when you get back."
"Yes, you will." Her
voice wasn't cold any longer. But she wasn't looking at Bruce with the same
wounded expression she had earlier. She was looking at him as if he was a close
friend and nothing more.
Bruce walked away, leaving
them alone. For a moment, Clark was afraid that she'd try to seduce him, and he'd
never know which of them she really wanted. But she stayed curled up in his
lap, and he pulled down a cushion from the couch to lean against. Playing with
her hair, he watched her slide back into sleep, her hand resting warm and
strong on his thigh.
##
The war was different now. Diana
and Clark stayed close, fighting as a team. Looking out for one another. Taking
care of one another.
They looked out for Bruce,
too. Whenever Bruce was out fighting and not running the show from the
Watchtower, Clark found himself making sure that his friend was all right. It
felt good to want to do that, to know that the interest was, if not welcomed,
then not hated.
"Kal!"
Diana was fighting off six OMACs, and Clark rushed in to give her a hand.
As one of them lifted its sword-arm
to stab her, Clark sliced off the arm with his heat vision. It wasn't killing,
but it was damned close. Nothing was going to hurt Diana the way she'd been
hurt last time. Not on his watch.
"You're getting
rougher," she said as the last of the OMACs fell away from her. She met
his eyes, her look strange and possessive.
They wanted each other. They
wanted each other and they hadn't had time to do anything about it yet.
"I would kill for
you." It was a terrible thing to admit, but he knew it was true. He'd
destroy anything that tried to hurt her. He knew she'd do the same for him—she'd
already done it. "Diana. When this is over...?" He was not sure if he
meant the war, or just this battle.
"Yes, when this
over." She touched his lips with her fingers, the fleeting caress sending
shivers down to his toes. Then she turned to go. "J'onn
needs help on the western flank."
He had a sudden image of
OMACs overtaking her, killing her, before she could become his lover. "Diana."
She turned, and he saw the
blood of the OMACs who'd tried to take her down spattered all over her. "What?"
she asked, absently cleaning off her sword.
The image in his mind
changed. He saw her killing OMACs, and then coming to him unharmed. His equal. More
than his equal, in some ways. "Fight well."
She looked confused—it was
not what he'd normally say. "You, too." Then she flew away.
"My love." He
thought for a moment of Lois. Wondered how she was doing in London. He hadn't
spied on her. Hadn't wanted to, not since he'd carried Diana to the Fortress. Not
since she'd never left. Even though she was healed, she was staying with him,
not his lover but close.
She'd given him back his life
when he'd saved hers. It wasn't much of a trade. He wasn't a prize.
She didn't seem to care.
##
After six weeks of nearly
nonstop fighting, Brother Eye had been destroyed, the OMACs finally defeated. Clark
flew with Diana, searching for stragglers—the odd, lone OMAC that might infect others
if left without treatment. Unfortunately, OMACs weren't easily taken to
treatment; they seemed to prefer death to capture.
"Look," Diana said
softly, pointing to where a group of people clustered around a downed OMAC. The
tech was gone, giving way to human flesh again in death. One of the people
looked up at them, then he said something and they all looked up.
Clark zeroed in on them with
his vision—they were angry. Hate colored their expressions. The metas had done this. Even Lord could be considered a meta. He'd
started this; the others had finished it.
"They'll hate us no
matter how this comes out," she said.
"Some of them
will."
"Maybe all of
them." Her voice was bleak. "Maybe it's time to go to ground? Let the
least meta of our group be seen and heard?"
"It's not like you to be
a coward." She'd led more than her share of charges on the OMAC. Wore the
scars of all those battles proudly.
"It's not cowardice. It's
pragmatism. This will die down, as long as we're not constantly in their faces,
fanning the anger back up." Sighing, she moved closer to him—from below,
they probably looked like one person as they flew off.
Their patrol rousted four
OMACs, three of which would not surrender. The last they took back to the
facility J'onn had set up to help the OMACs rid their
bodies of the tech that turned them into these killing machines. They found
Bruce there, walking the wards.
"Is the procedure going
to last?" Diana asked him.
"I think so. J'onn thinks so." He turned to Clark, then indicated a
young woman lying in the ward bed asleep. "Will you check this one? She's
the one you first brought in."
Clark examined her with his
super-vision. There was no trace of the tech anywhere, no matter how deep he
went. "She's clean."
"I think we'll be
okay." Bruce sounded exhausted. "It might be for the best if you two
took a little break from the limelight."
"She's one step ahead of
you." Clark smiled, glad that Diana had chosen him before Bruce realized she
was perhaps the one person in the world capable of keeping up with him
mentally. But Clark had a feeling that Bruce was already fully aware of what he'd
let slip away.
"You were leading most
of the charges," Bruce said with an apologetic grimace that was probably
supposed to be a smile. "It won't be for long." He looked like he
knew what they'd be doing and wished it would only be for a nanosecond.
"We're fully capable of
staying busy." Diana said. Clark and Diana had several projects underway at
the Fortress. Projects to find and destroy the last of the Checkmate legacy. Bruce
didn't know that, though. Bruce probably thought she meant they'd be having
wild sex the whole time.
They'd only be having wild sex
part of the time.
"Good. Keep busy. That's
good." Bruce was stumbling over his words—a sign of how tired he was, or
how much this was hurting him, Clark wasn't sure which.
"Get some sleep,"
Diana said gently, then she turned to Clark. "Ready?"
It was a loaded question, and
all three of them knew it. A strange hush descended in the ward, as if they
were the only three people in it, as if this moment was all there would ever
be.
"I'm ready," he
said, reaching out for her.
She took his hand and, with a
last soft smile for Bruce, flew out of the ward with Clark. They could have
walked. They probably should have walked. But it sent a message to fly this
way. A message that Clark thought Bruce needed to see. They were in this
together. They were alike. They were...one.
Or they would be once they
got back to the Fortress.
They flew fast, but it seemed
to take an unnaturally long time to get there. The place was still and a little
musty—it had been some time since they'd been there. The war had heated up and,
like in Asgard, they'd grabbed sleep whenever and
wherever they could. Diana had always been by his side, or he'd been by hers,
when the fighting subsided enough for them to curl together and close their
eyes.
They walked to the living
space, and he wondered if she was as nervous as he was. She turned and smiled
at him, but it was a tentative smile.
"Scary, isn't it?" He
grinned at the relief in her eyes as she nodded quickly. "For me,
too."
"I've thought about it
for so long. Then, after I killed Lord, I forced myself not to think about
it."
"Which means you were
thinking about it, or you wouldn't have had to stop." He grinned again at
her annoyance. "Sorry. You have the floor."
Moving closer, she said
huskily, "No, I have you."
"That you do." He
pulled her the rest of the way, kissing her slowly—there was no rush now. It
was why they'd waited. They could have snuck a moment together here and there,
but neither of them had wanted to hurry through sex after so long not being
able to consider it. They could wait a little bit longer now that they were
free to enjoy the experience.
She wrapped her arms around
him, pressing herself against him in a way he found heart-achingly sweet. "I
love you, Kal."
"Diana. I've wanted this
for so long." He began to peel her uniform off. He'd seen her naked many
times, but this was the first time he could take his time, could touch and kiss
anything he wanted to. This was the first time her moans accompanied the
disrobing. He had the uniform half off when he couldn't stand it anymore and
scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to their bedroom. She kissed him the
whole way there.
He put her down by the bed,
pulled off her uniform the rest of the way. They made short work of his. Then
they were falling onto the bed, bodies joining faster than he expected as if
their flesh had a will, and a need, of its own.
She had her head thrown back
as he moved, faster and harder, and he let go, secure that she could take
whatever he did. And it struck him that Lois had been in danger for much longer
than he'd thought. Every time he'd made love to her, he'd had to hold back. Every
time he'd roughhoused or exercised with her, he'd had to be careful not to hurt
her. She was fragile, and he'd been her greatest enemy, even if his love had
tamed that danger.
Diana was in no danger. In
fact, as she pushed him over, riding him with a look of total abandon on her
face, she seemed to be having the time of her life.
"I love you,
Diana," he murmured as he rolled her back under him, the action becoming a
game. They took turns trying to master the other, neither winning, but both
relishing the contest.
When they finally lay still,
temporarily sated, she cuddled against him, running her fingers lightly down
his arm and over his chest.
"It was worth waiting
for," he said, a lazy smile playing at his mouth.
"It was." She eased
up so she could kiss him. When she pulled away, she stared down at him,
stroking his face tenderly.
Drawing her back to him, he
kissed her for a long time, pulling her on top of him. When they came up for
air, he brushed back her hair and said, "I have to tell you
something."
"You sound awfully
serious. Are you going to break up with me?" She kissed him quickly, a
silly smile on her face.
"No. I'm not going to do
that." He took a deep breath. "It's about something that happened a
week ago. During the war."
"I'm listening." She
eased away, probably so that she wouldn't distract him when he talked. Silly woman—she
could distract him from the other side of the planet.
"I need more kisses
first." He rolled her to her back, pinning her arms and kissing her the
way he'd wanted to for so long. She fought him playfully, but playful turned to
serious, and they finally found out that he was in fact stronger when they were
battling with no dirty tricks allowed.
"So," she said,
"now we know."
He nodded. He'd never been
sure.
"I could get away,
though. If I weren't so concerned about not ruining you before round two."
He laughed. "I believe
you." Kissing her tenderly, he let himself enjoy the moment before he let go of her arms and felt them come around him, pulling
him closer.
Round two commenced before he
could tell her what he needed to.
"Sorry," she
whispered, as she lay collapsed on top of him.
"No reason to be. My
confession can wait."
She perked up immediately,
her expression concerned. "Confession? Should I be worried?"
He realized she must think
this had to do with Lois. "Not worried. Just...vindicated."
She slid off him and got
comfortable on her side, facing him, her head resting on one languidly
outstretched arm. "I'm listening."
"You said that last
time." He took a deep breath. "It was that day just after J'onn and Ray discovered the formula that would get rid of
the tech permanently."
She nodded. It had been an
important breakthrough for the League. All the other attempts had beaten the
tech back only to dormancy. Nothing had eradicated it from the host's system
until this discovery.
"The fighting heated up,
as if the OMACs knew we'd come up with their salvation and they weren't having
any of it."
"I remember. We had to
call in everyone."
Clark nodded. "Even Ray
and J'onn. And J'onn was so
tired—he'd been working with the recovering humans when he wasn't crashing with
Ray on the cure."
She waited,
her eyes calm. He swallowed hard. This was difficult to tell, but of all the
people he might share what happened with, she was the only one he owed the
truth to.
"I was fighting behind J'onn. He was having a hard time phase-shifting, and one of
the OMACs came up behind him fast. It looked at me, Diana. Kept its back to me
so I couldn't laser off the sword-arm. As if it knew everything about me. As if
it knew that there was no way I could reach it in time for a non-lethal
solution. As if it knew that I would never kill it."
"It probably did
know."
It probably had known. Bruce
had plugged all their information into that infernal satellite. "And
somewhere inside the OMAC was a human who would be helped by what J'onn had been doing. He'd run himself into the ground
because he wanted so deeply to save the humans inside those monsters." Clark
took a deep breath. His voice was rising with his remembered anger, and he was
clenching his fists. "You told me once that sometimes you have to slay the
monster."
"Yes, I did." Diana
didn't try to soothe him. She just waited; his anger didn't scare her at all.
"I always thought that
this decision would be forced by you." At her frown, he corrected. "I
mean that you would be in danger, and it would be no decision. I'd kill to keep
you safe."
She nodded; she understood.
"This was, if anything,
easier. I didn't even stop to think, really. I lasered right through the OMAC's
back. Stopped its heart instantly. It fell without a sound. J'onn
never even knew what kind of danger he'd been in." Clark looked down, then
met her eyes. "I killed."
"You killed." She
reached out, touching his cheek lightly. "You never said anything."
"The less people that
know I can kill, the better. I'm not sure it would comfort anyone else the way
it comforts you."
She smiled. "You're
right."
"At first I didn't tell
you because I needed to process it. I thought I'd have guilt and pain and be
tortured."
She looked thoughtful, then
said, "I don't remember you being any of that."
"That's because I
wasn't. The OMAC was going to kill my friend—a friend that held its salvation
in his hand—and I had one shot to stop it, so I took it. And I slept fine that
night." He touched her face, where a scar ran down her cheek. The burn
he'd given her that she'd never bothered to remove. "Did you sleep the
night you killed Lord?"
"No. But that wasn't
because of Lord. That was because of you and Bruce."
He sighed. "I'm sorry,
Diana. I was a sanctimonious pig."
"Yes, you both
were." She kissed him, and it took a lot of the sting away.
But some of it should stay. He'd
deserted her when she'd needed him the most. So had Bruce. They were lucky she
was the kind of woman she was. Forgiving. Merciful. Pragmatic.
Deadly. They were both deadly
now.
"Are you going to tell
Bruce?" she asked.
"Do you think I
should?"
She pursed her lips, then
shook her head very slowly. "He's our friend, but the days of the Trinity
are over. We are just three of many who fought."
He nodded.
"And you and I are not
three. We are two." She leaned back lazily, stretching, which threw all
her delicious curves into focus. "We can be one, if we want?"
He was already moving over
her. "Oh, we want. We want very much."
Laughing, she tousled his
hair. "My killer." Her eyes weren't laughing, and he thought this was
a test.
"Don't spread it
around." Then he pinned her, letting her try to fight him off. "God,
that's sexy. You can't get away."
Suddenly he found himself
flying off the bed, landing hard on the floor. She peeked over the side of the
bed, shrugging playfully. "Oops."
"Not so concerned for me
getting to round three in one piece, huh?"
She laughed. "I'm used
to fragile men. You can probably take more than I thought." She pushed
herself to her hands and knees and leapt like a wolf off the bed.
He caught her before she
could land on his chest, rolling and pinning her again. This time he made sure
to cut down on her maneuverability. "What now, love?" He felt her
hand in his hair. "No hair pulling."
It was too late. He yelled,
gave ground and she wriggled out from under him and sat on his belly, pinning
him down. "Now what, Kal?"
He didn't try to push her
off. He pushed her down, and she laughed when she saw what he was doing. "Giving
up?"
"If this is giving up,
I'm the envy of every man on this planet." He threw his head back.
"Try to get away." She
was moving as she said it, and he could barely understand her words. "Kal, try or I'll stop."
"Shrew," he said
with a smile, fighting her, trying to get his hands away without interfering
with what was going on lower down.
"I don't think your
heart is in this."
"You're very wrong about
that, Diana. My heart has never been more into this." Then he quit
worrying about anything and gave himself up to her. "I surrender—at least
until round four." He smiled up at her. "I'm your prisoner."
She was a very gracious
victor. But then he'd known she would be.
FIN