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.
Rules of Engagement
by Djinn
Since ancient times, the
Amazons practiced Karthene--a ritualized form of fighting. Every girl grew up learning it, some spent their lives perfecting it. It was used not for combat but for growth
and discipline--for control. Diana
thought that Bruce would be surprised at the beauty and seeming simplicity of
it. But she had never shown it to
him.
It was easy to fall back into
it now, the ancient steps, the motion of hands and arms rising up, falling
down. Hold and release, snap and
turn. Slow at times, then
fast--impossibly fast. There was no set
rhythm to this. In fact, that was part
of the point. Each woman had to find her
own rhythm, her own speed to the pattern.
And the pattern grew as a person learned, the complexity increasing
until they reached Diana's level.
Hold and release. Snap and turn. Until the final move, a long hold, painfully
long. Diana held it with effort. Clearly her mind was not on this the way it
should be.
She started again. First move: Declaration of Hostilities.
---
Bruce had kissed her. He had kissed her, and his mouth had been
soft and loving, even as a passion he'd never given voice to had
roared between them. The feeling that
had washed over her had been different than the longing she felt for Kal. A romance with him was not to be--or at least
not yet, and she was resigned to waiting.
She had pushed her desire down into some part of her that was reserved
for immortals who could outlive spouses.
But this--this was unforeseen. She had
not thought Bruce even appreciated her looks, let alone wanted her.
"My beautiful
Diana," he had called her as he lay sick, wracked with the strange
fever. His beautiful
Diana.
And then later he had pulled
her close and kissed her just before they'd died. They'd died and come back. How many times could she die and come
back? How much time were
they wasting by not facing what had happened between them?
"We need to talk,"
she'd said as he walked by her their first day back from rescuing Arthur.
A grunt had been his answer.
"We need to talk,"
she'd said when she'd sought him out in Gotham, fighting at his side as they'd
argued until even a super-criminal had begged them to just get on with the
trouncing of him.
"We need to talk,"
she'd said when he fled the mansion, leaving her to dine with Alfred.
They should have talked after
she'd used J'onn's machine to see what she really
wanted from Bruce. She shouldn't have
let him get away so easily. He'd copped
out, and she'd let him.
Forcing him from her mind,
she finished her work out and headed for the showers. But she couldn't ignore him when he walked by
her in the little corridor between the dressing rooms and the gym. He seemed to go out of his way to make sure
he didn't brush against her in the tight quarters.
"Scared?" she
muttered.
He stopped. Turned. "What?"
She debated walking on, but
forced herself to face him. "Of me. You're
scared."
His grin was the one she
hated. Smug. Supercilious.
She considered punching it
off his face, but violence of that sort wasn't her way. "You're lucky I'm a peaceful woman,
Bruce." She turned to go into the
dressing room.
He could have let it go. He didn't.
"What is it you think you want from me, Princess?"
She hated it when he called
her that. She spun,
saw his hand rise in what looked like an unconscious defense move. He thought she would hit him?
"What do I want?"
she asked.
He nodded tightly.
"Only what you are
prepared to give. Which
is astoundingly little." She
didn't let him have the last word this time.
Practically fled before he could say anything.
He followed her into the
changing room.
"Last I checked this was
not unisex," Diana said as she walked to her locker.
"You're the only woman
using this." He moved closer to
her. "Who else would be here?"
"Only batmen, I
guess. Why are you in here,
Bruce?" She began to pull off her
uniform, curious to see what his reaction would be.
His hand was out immediately,
stopping her progress.
"Don't."
"I need to shower. Besides, I've got nothing you want,
remember?"
"You are acting like a
child."
"If you want that insult
to have any weight, you should take the cowl off when you say it." She jerked away from him with a supple move
of her wrist, had her uniform off with several more. Turning away, she hung it up carefully, could
practically feel his eyes on her.
Ignoring him, she turned,
walking past him to the towel rack, then into the showers. "You're welcome to join me," she
called back, turning to look at him.
He had the strangest look on
his face. Not longing, exactly. Not
anger. Something else. Something...sad.
"Bruce?"
Without a word, he spun on
his heel and walked out.
Sighing, she stepped into the
shower, letting the water run very hot.
She was suddenly freezing cold.
--------------
Turn, kick,
hold. Her body was immobile, held like a great
heron waiting for a fish to swim by.
Then she released the move in a blur of speed. Turn, slide, jab, jab, return
to upright. It was the next step of the
process. Testing the
Enemy.
---------------
"You're just being
stubborn," Bruce said as they walked through the woods.
"I didn't ask to be your
partner on this mission."
"I didn't ask for that
either."
"That's not what I
heard."
He turned to look at
her. "J'onn made the assignments
today."
"He said you asked for
me."
For a moment she thought he
was going to look for another evasion.
Then he shot her a rueful glance and said, "Damn honest
Martian."
She laughed. "Why did you want to partner with
me?"
"I'm a masochist?"
"I almost believe
that."
"We're in range
now." He pushed on ahead, the
conversation clearly over as he began to search the forest around them for the
missing weapons an informant had indicated were stashed in the vicinity.
"Up ahead," she
murmured, her attention drawn to a sudden shift in the pattern of light and
leaves.
"I see him."
They kept moving, and she
arranged to stay between Bruce and the man.
If they were going to be jumped on purpose, she could take the blow
better. Besides, it was driving Bruce
nuts that she was keeping him safe on the outside.
The man jumped out at them
too slowly to get a bead on her. She
turned, her hand coming up and out, knocking his knife away. Bruce was on him a second later, two
snap-fast jabs knocking the man out.
"I thought we wanted to
question him?" she asked.
"We do."
"Then why did you knock
him out, Mister Strategy Man?"
He actually looked
embarrassed, but he crossed his arms over his chest as if there was no question
that he'd had an excellent reason for what he'd done.
"You were protecting
me?"
"Of
course not."
She moved closer. "You were."
He pushed her back. "I was not." Then he moved closer, his hand brushing her
shoulder gently. "He got you."
She looked down in
surprise. A small trail of blood showed
on her skin. She was about to wipe it
off, when he surprised her by doing it, peeling his glove off and gently smoothing
away the blood. Then he turned away from
her, wiping the blood off on the unconscious man's shirt. He sighed softly, not looking at her.
"Do you like me,
Bruce?"
He shrugged.
"Not a very encouraging
answer."
"But the only one I'm
going to give you."
"Why did you ask for me
to be your partner?"
"Because
I can't avoid you forever." His voice was low and full of emotions that
seemed to be the opposite of the control he so valued.
"You don't have to avoid
me at all." She started to move
closer, but his glare stopped her.
"We've got a job to
do."
She smiled tightly and
touched her lasso. "I'm well aware
of that. And I'd be doing that job if
you hadn't knocked out our witness."
Bruce stood up slowly,
breathing in deeply as if trying to draw patience in along with the
oxygen. "I'm going to keep
searching. You wait for him to wake
up."
"You're running
again."
He ignored her as he
disappeared into the jungle, walking away in what seemed like a purposefully
slow manner. But as soon as he was out
of sight, he stepped up his pace.
"I can hear you,"
she called out and heard him slow down again.
"Damn meta
hearing," he muttered as she laughed softly and hunkered down next to
their unconscious captive.
----------------------
She spun, one and a half
times around, her leg held out until she stopped exactly where she wanted. Then she moved as if in slow motion, and
stepped down to meet the ground. She
kicked out with her other leg, body following in a curved rush, hands snapping
out--one, two, three, four blows. Her
opponent, if there had been one, would fall.
She pulled back, her right arm into a slanted upright position, her left
to the back, ready to follow or cut underneath the other, depending on what her
enemy did. She held the pose.
This was when everyone
started to tire. This
part of the routine, where kick was followed by holds, where a body started to
shudder from the exertion followed by the long, excruciating freezes. She progressed through the steps, each move
known at the cellular level, her mind clear as she stepped out of one freeze,
into a slash-kick-slash trio, then back into the hold.
She could feel herself
shaking. But she would not quit. To find the end of the journey, one had to
pass through the stage of Prolonged Siege.
----------------------
Diana watched as the UN
relief workers herded the last of the sick into the makeshift hospital she had
built for them. More tents dotted the
landscape, and she felt a surge of satisfaction as Kal and Kyle set down more
doctors. Wally was busy creating a negative pressure zone that would keep the
chemicals the rebels had set off contained and far away from the sick. J'onn, Bruce, and Plastic Man were distributing
the sera that Ray had concocted. It
enhanced the body's ability to fight off the effects of the chemical
weapons. They'd already made the formula
available to the world's leaders--and some private watch groups in case the
leaders didn't feel inclined to share.
As Diana turned to walk back
to the UN officers, she felt a wave of dizziness come over her. She was sick, and had been since she'd been
exposed to the cursed chemicals. She'd
been the first one on the scene when the gas was still thick in the air. She didn't think her fellow JLAers realized she'd been affected; she knew no one else
did. She was Wonder Woman; they probably
considered her immune to nasty chemicals.
But she needed to get some of that serum--she'd ask J'onn as soon as she
was done.
"We owe you all an enormous
debt, Wonder Woman," one of the leaders said.
She was having trouble focusing, couldn't figure out which one was
talking. "It was nothing. We're here to help, you know that."
"You won't mind if I
steal her, will you, gentleman? JLA business."
She heard Bruce's voice as if
in a distant fog, felt him turning her and tried not to fall down from the
dizziness that swept over her.
"You're sick," he
said once they were safely out of earshot of the others--except probably Kal.
"So stick me in a tent
and go home."
"No." He kept moving her, urging her gently away
from the tents. "You're meta. We don't know how this gas will affect you."
"So you're separating me
from the herd to put me out of my misery?"
Her joke fell flat; he didn't smile. She forced herself to stand straighter. "I'm fine, Batman. Let me go."
He ignored her and called for
a teleport to the batcave. The change in temperature from
"You shouldn't have kept
working, Diana. Your immune system may
have been compromised." He eased
her into a chair at the main console and began to type something into the
computer.
"I had to help. That's what we do." She closed her eyes, felt the cold seeping
into her bones, leeching any warmth left in her. Sweat from the work she'd been doing was
drying on her skin, freezing as it did.
"Here." A lightweight emergency blanket settled
around her shoulders, and she clutched at it as he said, "We'll go
upstairs in a minute."
"Why are you doing
this?"
She could barely see him
smile as he said, "You took care of me when I was sick."
"Oh." She was too tired to say something
clever. Too sick to
tell him to go to hell. Closing
her eyes, she waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.
She heard the sound of Kal
flying through the cave before she saw him.
He took one look at her and touched her forehead. "She's burning up."
"I know. Do you have the serum Ray made? I gave all mine
out."
Kal handed Bruce the vial,
then he bent down so she could see his face.
"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"
"Why didn't you notice
she was?" Bruce asked, his voice strangely tight.
"You did?" Kal's voice was just as tight.
She reached out, trying to
touch Kal's arm but missing. "I'm
fine."
"No, you're not. Drink this." Bruce held the vial to her mouth. Whatever
was in it smelled awful, and she turned away from it. "Drink it."
She felt his hand on her
head, turning her, pushing her to the vial.
She opened her mouth, let him pour it into her
mouth. Nearly choking on the noxious
substance, she swallowed it down and immediately began to cough.
"She needs rest,"
Kal said.
"I've got it under
control, Clark."
"Somewhere
warm."
"I said I've got it
under control."
"I'll be all right here,
Kal. Alfred likes me at
least." She tried to smile,
couldn't feel her mouth move at all.
"Go home. Lois is
waiting." She didn't mean to sound
so bitter and looked up at him.
"She's waiting." This
time it sounded more normal.
"You heard her,
Clark. We're fine here."
She watched them, barely able
to make out more than how both of their faces seemed awfully tight. Why did Kal care so much about her staying
here? It wasn't as if Bruce would even
talk to her now that he'd given her the serum.
Kal finally uncrossed his hands from over his chest and flew away with a
flip of his cape.
"He's upset," she
said, although she couldn't figure out why.
"He certainly
is." Bruce sounded very pleased.
She peered up at him. "You're not very nice."
"You're just figuring
that out, Princess?" For once, he
didn't load the title with sarcasm.
"Come on. Let's get you
upstairs."
"I'm cold," she
whispered as he pulled the emergency blanket off her.
"We'll be somewhere warm
soon." He led her to the stairs.
She had a feeling he was
going to try to carry her, so she forced her feet to obey her, ordering her
legs to support her weight. "I'm
okay," she said, pushing his hands away and walking up the stairs to his
house on her own. She counted--one, two,
three. All the
way to eighteen when they hit the landing, and he opened the door,
and she nearly collapsed.
Alfred came rushing
over. "Miss Diana?"
"Chemical
gas. She'll be fine. She's just exhausted."
"Shall I prepare a guest
room?" Bruce didn't answer, and
Alfred said, "Ah, yes. Of course. Very good idea, sir."
"What?" she
asked. "What's a very good
idea?"
"You'll need
observation, of course." She could
hear some kind of wink in Alfred's voice, failed to see what amused him.
"I don't need to be
observed." She pushed away from
them both, walked over to the stairs. Ten. She counted
again. No, twelve. Twelve more to climb and then she could
rest. She tried to order her foot up,
but her body wouldn't cooperate.
"So damn stubborn,"
Bruce muttered, then he scooped her up, carrying her
up the stairs. "Don't fight me,
Diana, or we'll both fall."
She had been about to do just
that. "You annoy me," she
said, letting her head fall into the space between his neck and shoulder. "You annoy me more than any man I've
ever met."
"Feeling's mutual,"
but his arms seemed to tighten around her.
She closed her eyes, letting
him carry her wherever he wanted. She
couldn't hear anything except Bruce's breathing and her own--she was
wheezing. Was that the chemicals? Had she been wheezing for long?
"Here we are,"
Bruce said as he put her down and pushed her into the room. "Do you want to sleep in your
uniform?"
It was damp and
constricting. She felt as if it had
melted into her. "No."
"Hang on." He was gone, and then he was back, pulling a
t-shirt over her head, covering her so she could take the uniform off.
She made a face as he tossed
it to the side of the room. "I need
a shower," she said as he pushed her toward the bed.
"You're too weak."
He was right, she was. "You could hold me up."
"I'm not that strong,
Diana." He sounded afraid. What was
so scary about a shower?
He didn't pull the covers
over her once she was in the bed, but stripped off his uniform. Pulling on some pajama bottoms, he crawled
into bed with her, finally settling the wonderfully soft comforter over them
both.
"I stink," she
said.
"You have smelled
better." He pulled her closer until
she rested her head on his chest.
"I'll live. So will
you. You can shower when you're
rested."
"Whose bed is
this?"
"Mine." His arm stole around her, pulling her a
little bit closer.
She finally felt warm and
surrounded by fluffy comfort. "Your
bed is so soft."
He laughed. "It's not. The mattress is Batman-approved extra
firm."
"Good for the
spine," she said, the words coming out slurred.
"Yes. It just feels soft because Alfred insists on
putting a featherbed on top of it."
"Good for the
hips," she said.
"That's what he
says."
"He's right." She relaxed into the warm cocoon they were
making out of his bed. "Are you
going to seduce me?"
"No."
"Do you even want to
anymore?" She closed her eyes, felt
sleep calling.
"Yes," he whispered,
and she thought she felt something touch down on her forehead.
"Do you like me,
Bruce?"
"Yes, Diana. I like you very much." Then she heard him say, "Sleep
now."
For once, she didn't argue.
-----------------------
The pattern became more complex.
Simple jabs and kicks became combinations of leaps and thrusts and kicks and
punches. Diana moved through them
seamlessly, finally feeling her body responding the way it was supposed to. As if this was something in her blood,
something she'd been born to do.
She whipped around, her hand
coming up to counter a strike, her other hand following it. Snap, snap, snap. She spun, halfway, her leg coming up and out
as she let her body follow it, momentum giving the
kick added oomph. She scissored away, the leap ending in another hold. Her body trembled, and she smiled at the
sensation.
Then she slowly lifted one
knee, her foot coming up. This was the
changing moment. This was where most
routines stopped. It was called: Appeal for Truce.
------------------
"You're feeling
better?" Bruce walked around her to
get to the fridge.
"Yes. Thanks."
He'd left her alone in his
bed, had been gone when she'd finally awakened many hours later. He'd set out a bathrobe and towels, left the
door to the bathroom open. Alfred had
cleaned her uniform and brought up breakfast.
He'd told her the master had been called out.
Had run
like hell would probably have been more like it.
She smiled at the thought as
she reached around him for some bread.
"Thank you. I never got a
chance to--"
He waved her apology
away. His expression was all business.
Had she imagined that she'd
been in bed with him? Had she imagined
that he'd held her close, his voice so tender?
That he'd kissed her on the forehead?
"Damn you." She slammed down the sandwich she was making
and walked out.
He didn't follow.
"Diana, what's
wrong?" Kal asked as she stormed past him to the gym.
"Damn you too."
She was well into demolishing
a new punching bag when Bruce came in, moving to hold the bag for her. Smiling, she gave it a vicious kick, the
trajectory perfect to knock Bruce loose and send him reeling across the mats.
"Okay, that was just
mean," he said, picking himself up with a groan.
She ignored him.
He took his place at the bag
again. "Clark had some interesting
things to tell me just now."
"I don't care."
"He said he's jealous of
me."
"I
said, I don't care." Another well-aimed kick to the bag sent him
flying across the mats.
This time he stayed there to
talk to her.
She smiled tightly. "Afraid?"
"You know the old
saying. Fool me once..."
She nodded. She'd felt that way often
enough with him.
"Don't you want to know
why he's jealous?"
"It's not because of
your sparkling personality." She
let the bag show him how she felt about anything he had to tell her. It finally gave up the ghost, ripping from
its support and landing up against the wall.
"Another one bites the
dust."
"Shut up." She started to stalk away.
"He thinks you're in
love with me."
She stopped.
"He thinks I'm in love
with you too."
"Well," she said,
moving off again to the dressing room.
"He's obviously an idiot."
She pushed into the changing
room, could hear him right behind her.
"Bruce, what is so hard to understand about 'women only'?"
He didn't answer so much as
growl as he pushed her against the wall.
Hard. To make up for being kicked across the mats maybe?
She found that thought
arousing and tried to push it down.
"You're an idiot, too, Mister Wayne."
"I suppose I
am." He glared at her, his eyes
blazing, then he pulled off the cowl. "You're acting like a child."
She would have replied except
that he pulled her to him, kissing her as if it was their last day on Earth again. She kept expecting him to pull away like he
had then, but he didn't.
In fact, his hands were
undoing her uniform.
She stopped him. "I'm not the only woman up here
today."
He looked very annoyed at the
news, and she laughed. Slowly, afraid
that she'd spook him if she actually showed any affection,
she moved closer, her lips finding his cheek, kissing up to his ear.
He groaned. It was the most helpless sound she'd ever
heard him make.
"Do you love me,
Bruce?"
He didn't answer.
She pushed closer, could feel
that even if he didn't love her, he wanted her in the worst way. "Bruce?"
"Yes." Again the growl.
She decided if she was going
to pursue the Batman, she would probably have to get used to things being
expressed a little differently. Kissing
him, she pulled him closer, heard him groan again--that wonderful, helpless
sound.
Then he knocked her away from
him. "I notice you're not saying it
back." He headed for the doors that
would take him back to the gym.
She stalked after him,
catching him as he got to them, and pushing him up against the wall. Running her hand through his hair, she
smiled. "I love you."
He stared at her, his eyes
burning, as if he didn't believe her.
She said it again. This time with no smile. Just waiting to see what he'd do.
He reached over and locked
the door.
"That's not the only
one."
He pushed her away enough to
get by her. Hurrying to the other door,
he locked it too. Then he turned, and in
an almost savage voice, said, "Come here."
She walked slowly, smiling.
"Faster," he said,
then he seemed to give up on her doing what he'd ordered, moving toward her and
catching her up in his arms. He made
short work of her uniform, then his own.
Pushing her onto a counter, he suddenly stopped. "Have you done this before?"
She nodded. "With--"
His hand over her mouth
stopped her; the slow shake of his head killed the confession. "I don't need to know, Diana. It's probably better if I don't."
She smiled, nodded
understanding. He was afraid it was
Kal. It wasn't. And maybe someday she'd tell him. Although she wasn't sure he'd think Arthur
was much of an improvement. They'd had
some wild times when they'd both been new to the league, had gravitated
together naturally. As far as she knew,
Arthur had never told anyone they'd been lovers. Their passion had worn off in an easy way,
and they'd stayed friends.
"Have you done this
before?" she asked Bruce with a grin.
"Once or twice," he
said moving closer and closer until--there.
She closed her eyes, found
his lips by instinct rather than sight.
"Bruce," she breathed more than said.
His lips on hers were
demanding. His hands as he stroked back
her hair were gentle. She opened her eyes, saw that he had the most tender look on his face.
"Truce?" His arms
tightened around her.
"I'd like to think this
is more than just a truce." She
tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Goddesses, it had been a long time since
she'd known this pleasure.
"A truce is a start
though," he said, and she laughed softly.
Ever the careful tactician.
"It's a very good
start," she said, as she heard someone pounding on the door of the
dressing room. "Someone wants
in," she whispered in Bruce's ear, glad that the changing room was lined
with lead--she had a feeling it might be Supergirl
demanding entrance.
"They can use the
men's," he said, his lips finding her neck, kissing gently, then not so
gently.
She realized he was trying to
mark her. Something
ancient in her responded to that idea.
Especially since it would be under her hair, where no
one would see it.
The pounding stopped, and she
forgot all about the others. There was
only Bruce and what he was doing to her and what she was doing to him. She heard knocking again, this time on the
gym door. Bruce carried her away from the
main area; they ended up in the showers, which came on automatically with their
movements. Finally, as they lay half in
and half out of the showers, he turned to her and said, "This is a damned
uncomfortable place to make love."
She nodded. Her hair was sopping wet from the shower, and
the tile felt cold on her backside.
"You've never looked
more beautiful," he said, as he kissed her again. Then he moved over her, all feelings of
discomfort apparently forgotten in light of other interests.
The pounding started again,
and she giggled.
Then the door flew open,
knocked off its hinges, landing in the middle of the room. Supergirl came
flying in. "What the hell is--"
They stared at her; she
stared at them. Then she picked up the
door. "I'll just do a quick
soldering, and it'll be good as new. Really." She
glanced back at them again. "No
wonder Kal's in such a foul mood."
Diana snuck a look at Bruce;
he looked happy. She slugged his
arm. "He's your best friend."
"Uh
huh. That's got nothing to do with
this." Pushing her down, he picked
up where he'd left off.
She soon quit listening to
the sound of Supergirl's impromptu door repair.
------------------
The final moves were all that
lay ahead. Diana had few chances to work
on them with anyone else for only a handful of Amazons ever reached this high
in Karthene. Not even her mother had
possessed the patience to advance to this level. Diana could practice with Phillipus,
but they were both so busy it was hard to find the time to meet up.
Diana slowly kicked out, the
move graceful--this section was designed to be that. Speed giving way to grace
giving way to tranquility. The End of War.
"You never told me you
did your own version of Tai Chi?"
Bruce's voice was very close.
"You never asked,"
she turned, saw him study her then make the move himself, an uncanny mirror.
She moved again, her hand
coming up in the prelude to rest. He
followed her move. As she smiled, he
asked quietly, "Teach me?"
She finished the routine, and
he mirrored her the entire way. She had
a feeling when the got to this part again, he would have it all memorized. It
was just how he was.
"It's called
Karthene."
"Karthene." His accent was
perfect. "What does it mean?"
"It was named after the
woman who first danced it. It symbolizes
the route of conflict."
He nodded, following her
opening moves. "So it's a
dance?"
"The same way love
is." She smiled. "Or any other
battlefield."
"Ahhh,"
he said, a small grin starting. "I
understand fully."
She laughed softly, nearly
breaking her heron stance. "I
thought you might."
He seemed about to reply,
when she said, "No more talking.
Just do." There were times
they told each other that in bed. She
saw his eyes lighten at her choice of words.
Then he focused on her fully,
his moves as graceful as any Amazon's.
Soon she would have a more accessible partner to practice with.
The thought pleased her
greatly.
FIN
Curious what