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.
Watching
by Djinn
He watches Diana--actually,
he watches them all, more than his JLA compatriots ever suspected. Or more than they expected until a few weeks
ago, when the truth came out that he's not only been watching them but also
planning how to take them down in case of an emergency. So now they all know he's been a busy little
bat, but he thinks Diana doesn't realize how much he watches her in particular.
He's not particularly proud
of how much he watches her. It would
probably be considered stalking if she ever figured it out and brought him up
on charges. But he doesn't think she'll
do that. He watches her for her own
good, and he thinks she'll realize that if the truth comes out.
He thinks he implied to
He supposes it shocked the
hell out of Arthur. Bruce can see how it
happened though. On
that island, that wonderful, peaceful island. Arthur in the ocean--he has access to her the rest of them will never know. The sea, the sand, the
sun--and this woman giving herself up to him. Oh yes, Bruce can imagine how it
happened. Not that he would imagine...or
fantasize about her. Not him. The Batman is all about control.
Unless
she's involved. His control slips when Diana is involved.
He doesn't think she will
last with Arthur. It's not a charitable
thing to say, but he believes their relationship has a shelf life that can be
measured in weeks not years. He thinks
Diana has resolved to care for Arthur.
That she probably does care for him...deeply. He cannot imagine her having an affair with
anyone she does not love. But that
doesn't mean she's stopped loving
And Arthur is not the kind to
tolerate sharing. And, while Bruce knows
that he is out of the loop as far as what goes on at the watchtower, he's seen
Diana and Arthur together other places.
And they don't look like a match made in heaven.
Not when there's
Surprisingly, Bruce thinks
that he could deal with sharing her. He
knows enough of
Although
Bruce has often wondered if
that was what Diana was waiting for. Clark, all to herself. Lois dead, the JLA
on its second or third roster change.
And the two of them--Wonder Woman and
Superman--ageless, powerful. And together. Together at last.
But there's still time for
Bruce. Still time for
him to have Diana. If he ever makes his move.
If he ever reaches out.
He hasn't been willing to
reach out. He hasn't been willing to do
more than watch. And that may be his
downfall. Forever losing her because he
won't take that first step. He won't
take that risk.
He'll throw his body into
impossible situations. He'll twist his
mind around the most challenging of puzzles.
But he won't trust his heart enough to reach across the small chasm
between Diana and him and hold on tight.
It's not that he doesn't
trust her to catch him. He knows she
wouldn't let him go. She's strong enough
to hold him.
And yet...
This is accomplishing
nothing. He is a master of brooding, but
even he has limits, and Diana is a closed subject. Just like he tried to tell
"Master Bruce?"
He turns, sees Alfred waiting
at the top of the stairs. "I asked
not to be disturbed."
He asks that every time he's
in the batcave; it never stops Alfred from disturbing
him.
"There's a young lady
here to see you."
"Not in the mood."
"A
young Themysciran lady."
He can feel his heart pumping
harder suddenly, and sweat breaks out on his forehead. "Oh."
In the past, she would have
come into the cave on her own, but not now, not when he's no
longer part of the group. He
takes the stairs two at a time, then realizes he
probably looks much too eager to see her and slows his pace down.
Alfred does not look
fooled. "I put her in your study,
sir." Alfred's smile is just a few
millimeters shy of a smirk.
"Surprised you didn't
put her in my bedroom." He mutters it, doesn't mean for Alfred to catch
it.
Alfred's hearing could be meta. "I did
consider it, sir."
"Funny." He slips past Alfred, down the hall and into
the room where he keeps his regular clothes.
Pulling on a shirt and pants and some socks, he pads down the hall to
his study. He will meet her as Bruce,
the man, not Batman, the one who betrayed her.
Even though Bruce and the Batman are one and the same, and she has never
seemed confused on that point.
She's in street clothes also and
is staring at the fireplace, standing close to it as if she cannot get
warm. As he pushes the door closed, she
turns. "Bruce."
Her voice is wary, her
expression even more so. He helped them
during their last mission, helped defeat that evil fairytale witch. But that doesn't mean he and the League are
all right. Or that he and Diana are all
right.
"Diana," he says,
keeping his voice pitched low, keeping any note of hope or happiness out of
it.
She doesn't need to know how
pathetically glad he is to see her.
He looks down, where she is
clutching her hands together. He wonders
if she does that to stop them from trembling.
She seems to realize he is staring at them, and moves them behind her, a
perfect parade-rest motion. He doesn't
think she realizes how that stance throws her chest out--more than normal. Gods above, she has a tremendous figure.
He forces his eyes up, to
take in her expression. To read it and make sense of it. Why is she here? What does she want?
Deciding not to make it easy
on her, he walks over to his desk and sits down. He's glad to put the thick piece of ebony
between them. "Sit." He gestures to the chairs that are scattered
around the study.
She takes the farthest one
from his desk.
"So, to what do I owe
this pleasure?"
"I'm not here for
pleasure."
"What are you here for
then?"
She glares at him. It's been years since she looked at him with
quite so much ire. "The opposite of
pleasure, I suppose."
"Duty?"
"This isn't JLA
business. Obviously, you need not
concern yourself with that anymore."
"Obviously." Great, this is
going well. She's at her most snide;
he's at his most unhelpful. He gets up,
walks over to her, and sits in a chair across from her. "What's wrong?"
"I need your
advice."
He sits back. He can count on one hand the number of times
she's admitted needing his advice.
Looking
away from him, her gaze flits all over the study, anywhere but onto him.
He takes pity on her. "Advice about
what?"
"Kal." Her voice is
so low, he can barely hear her.
"What about him?"
"I know you see things,
Bruce. I know you see practically
everything."
He waits.
"I can't get away from
him."
"I wasn't aware you
wanted to get away from him."
She stares at him; her eyes
are hurt as if he's slapped her.
"Sorry, Princess. But that's my call on the subject."
"You don't know
everything." She gets up, seems to
need to put space between them. Walking
back to the fireplace, she stands in front of it again, rubbing her hands together
as if she is freezing in this room with him.
"I love him."
"I'm aware of
that."
She turns. "Maybe I wasn't talking about Kal."
"Maybe
not. If it's Arthur you're referring to, I believe
you do love him. In a
fashion."
She closes her eyes, but he can't
tell if it's in frustration, surrender, or just exhaustion. "Fine. You know everything, Bruce."
He gets up and walks over to
her. Against his better judgment, he
puts his arms around her, pulling her close so his chest is pressing against
her back. To his surprise, she leans
back, tilts her head as if to give him better access.
Has Arthur taught her
that? Bruce is suddenly filled with
desperate envy for his old friend. To have her...to have this.
God.
She seems to realize what
she's done and pulls away. But not
before he hears her sigh.
"It could have been
us," he says. It is not at all what
he meant to say. He meant to say
something reassuring, not something so terribly needy.
But she surprises him. She says only, "I know. I think
And suddenly he suspects that
might be why she picked Arthur. She does
not want the Superman-approved boyfriend.
She wants to break free. She's
always had a rebellious streak.
"For what it's
worth," he says, "
"No? Why not?"
He moves toward her
again. "Because I
know how to love you." He
pulls her closer, slowly, excruciatingly slowly.
She doesn't resist. "You think so?"
Their bodies are touching,
chest to chest, faces so close he could kiss her if he wanted to. And he does want to. He has never wanted to do anything more.
"Arthur will want too
much from you. And not
enough."
She laughs then, and the moment
is gone, and he steps back.
She is angry now. "You think you know that? You in your empty house
with your empty batcave. You who can't even love your friends enough
to trust us?"
"If this is about what I
did..."
"Shouldn't we talk about
it? You betrayed us."
"I betrayed you, you
mean. I took a private moment between us
and made it into your death." It
hurt him to do it. To make the chip that
would convince her she was fighting an invincible enemy. To make her fight so long and so hard she'd
ultimately have a heart attack. And he
learned it all from their workouts. In
their sparring matches, when he saw that she would never, ever give up. That only death would stop her from
fighting. Death from
her exhausted heart.
Death from
him.
He nearly killed her. And she's upset about it. There is nothing he can do to make it better
between them on that score.
Pushing aside the guilt he
doesn't want to admit to, he moves closer.
"Do you think you wouldn't do the same thing if you had to? That you wouldn't take every single one of us
down if it was for the greater good?"
"The
greater good? We weren't all nearly killed for the greater
good, Bruce. We almost died because you
didn't trust us enough to let us know you had custom-made death waiting."
He sees tears in her eyes,
tears that she dashes away. She can't
meet his eyes, and she murmurs, "I thought I could trust you, Bruce. I thought..."
The truth hits him like a
sledgehammer. "My
God. You're not mad that I almost
killed you. You're mad that you were
about to pick me. That's it, isn't
it?"
"I would never pick
you. Never." She tries to get to the door.
He blocks her.
"Bruce..." Her voice is full of a dark warning; he will
pursue this at his own risk.
"You were going to choose
me, weren't you?"
"No. Never." She tries to move around him, and again he
blocks her. "Damn you, Bruce."
He is not thinking when he
pulls her toward him, is operating on emotion--finally letting himself go just
a little--as he kisses her. She moans,
returns the kiss. For
a moment. Then he is flying
through the air and hits the wall hard.
He smiles as he crumples to
the floor. It was worth it. A kiss that good is worth a few bruises or cracks or strains.
She stalks over to him, rage
clear on her face. "Don't
ever do that again."
He just grins up at her as he
slowly pushes himself to his feet.
"You treat Arthur this way?"
"I don't need to. He's a good man. He'd never hurt me."
"I agree. It'll be you who hurts him." He walks away from her. The conversation is ended, and it will be he
who calls time. Not Diana. Not in his house.
"Arthur and I will
endure."
He turns. "Arthur and you are like the
sunset. Beautiful while it's happening
but impossible to hold onto."
"How
poetic. And how wrong you are. You'll see.
We'll be fine."
He laughs; the sound is
bitter and mean. "You and Clark,
you're so powerful and so prone to self-delusion. Why is that?"
"Maybe we just believe
in something?"
"Yes, but
what?" He knows what she stands
for, knows what values
She has no answer for him,
and he can see in her eyes that he has hurt her.
"I'm sorry, Diana. I call it as I see it. Good thing, I guess, that you didn't pick
me."
She draws herself up. Diana the woman is gone; the princess has
just entered his home.
He declines to perform
obeisance, goes on the attack instead.
"Arthur must be wondering where you've gone? Or is he accustomed to you keeping things
from him?"
This time he scores a direct
hit.
"You are
despicable," she says as she hurries out.
A few seconds later, Alfred
pops his head in, as if to reassure himself his master is still in one piece.
"Not a word, old
man."
Alfred
smiles, too used to his threats to be scared of him. "She
seemed in quite a rush to leave. We do
need to brush up on your charm."
"I can be
charming." Alfred's words, on top
of hers, hurt. "Do you think I'm despicable?"
"In
what context, sir?"
Bruce laughs. Alfred knows how to get him to do that, is probably the only person who can make him
laugh. Other than Plastic Man
occasionally--but Bruce would rather die than admit to that.
"The context is that I
told her the truth, and it hurt."
"Ah. Well, I don't think that's the way to win
her--assuming you do want to win her.
But your strategy for any challenge is, of course, your call."
"She's not a
challenge. You make it sound like a
conquest."
"Of course,
sir. My mistake."
Bruce pushes past him,
wincing as a rib protests. "I'll be
in the batcave."
"Naturally,
sir."
He does not say anything.
There's no point. Alfred always gets the
last word anyway.
It's a lesson he should learn
with Diana. But all strategy flies out
the window when she's around.
She would have picked
him. His heart is beating faster just at
the thought. Because
if she would have picked him, she might again. Someday.
He knows he can't rush
it.
He knows that even with all
his skills, he won't be able to predict the day she's ready for him again.
But by God, when that day
does come, he'll be ready.
FIN