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Darkest Knight	By : SteelMagnolia Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice League Views: 18860 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Darkest Knight – Chapter 5 – Insomnia

Batman watched on the Watchtower’s internal monitor as Wonder Woman stepped off the teleporter from India. She was covered with dust and dirt from recovery efforts after an earthquake had devastated a rural village in the subcontinent. He frowned as she seemed to slump slightly before straightening and moving out of the camera’s field. Was she injured? He had the Watchtower’s computer run a diagnostic on her. Everything was within normal parameters for her physiology.

He tapped in the monitor sequence to follow her most likely path after leaving the teleportation room. His frown deepened. She was definitely moving more slowly than her usual long-legged purposeful stride. He didn’t care what the diagnostic said. He needed to see for himself.

He set the computers to Raynor’s ID and left the Womb. He timed his movements so that he intersected with Diana’s path after she had passed the lounge. He didn’t want Raynor involved in this.

“Princess,” he said in greeting as she walked toward him. He saw a guarded look cross her expressive face.

“Good evening, Batman,” she said.

“I have the mass spectrometer results on that powder,” he told her, examining her from behind the anonymity of his mask and lenses. She looked worn and fairly dirty, but he could see no overt signs of injury. He relaxed imperceptibly. “It was a combination of herbs, ground semi-precious stones, and a substance chemically similar to dimethyltryptamine, which is a short-acting hallucinogen found in the seeds of certain South American plants.”

“That would explain the disorientation it caused,” Diana mused. “Why would she carry such a thing?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but it shouldn’t have any long-term effects.”

“Then I suppose it remains a mystery.”

“For now,” he said. She moved past him toward her quarters. He imagined he could feel the heat of her body through his armor. His nostrils flared under his mask at the sandalwood scent beneath the odor of dirt. Suddenly he wasn’t ready to let her leave.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he found himself asking. She paused and he thought she might have sighed.

“I am well,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem… tired,” he said.

“I suppose I am,” she said. “It has been a long day.”

“Maybe you should stay here instead of the Embassy tonight,” he suggested. “That way you won’t be disturbed.” He was already mentally bypassing the monitor privacy controls to set up a feed from her quarters. Just to be sure she was all right.

“Perhaps you are right,” she said. “A change of scenery might be good.”

*****

Diana frowned and rolled onto her side in bed, looking at the clock. 3 a.m. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to cleanse her mind of the thoughts that plagued her. Insomnia was becoming a rather annoying habit. Eight nights she had spent tossing and turning in her bed at the Embassy. Eight nights of reliving every word exchanged, every turn of phrase, every nuance of expression. How could she have mistaken Bruce Wayne’s character so badly?

How could she still desire the heat of his touch?

Diana sighed again and rolled onto her back. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. Diana knew her reflexes were dulled and her judgment impaired. She had lived longer than Patriarch’s World suspected, and had never felt the progress of time so keenly as in the last week. Every moment she lay in bed was an eternity. Perhaps this is what the Christians’ Purgatory is like, she thought. Unable to move on, yet unable to go back.

She opened her eyes and stared at the metallic ceiling of her quarters in the Watchtower. Sadly it appeared that a mere change in scenery would not be enough to break this new and unwanted habit.

“You were trying to crawl in my lap just a moment ago. You can’t tell me you don’t want this. What did you think you were looking for?”

The words echoed through her mind, twisted and distorted by her embarrassment. She flushed in the dark, remembering the fullness of him beneath her hand. Surely she must have wanted that. How else could she explain his being able to force her hand there? She was a hundred times stronger than he.

“Teasing bitch.”

She put her hands over her face, trying to hide from the memory. What he must think of her, telling him “no” and yet offering herself to kiss him? She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. What kind of a shameless wanton was she to have done those things? Even now, full of humiliation and regret, the memory of his kisses burned in her breast.

“You like it rough? I can do rough. Just tell me how bad you want it.”

Her heart pounded and she twisted in her sheets, the truth holding her in its relentless grip. She had wanted it. She had wanted him.

She still did.

She knew about the lust between men and women. Her mother had been both open and explicit about the lure and the peril of that seductive heat. Diana herself was no stranger to the heat of the flesh. She had both loved and desired Steve Trevor, although she been able to express only the love of her heart, not her body, before he had died. Even so, she did not remember desire being this intense and overwhelming, intruding upon every quiet moment to rend her with its burning talons.

Her Themysciran Sisters would have scoffed at her internal dilemma. Certainly the Amazons had not remained chaste since their withdrawal from the world of men. Warriors either formed relationships with others on the island, or left to pursue their own desires. Those who left frequently returned with child, daughters to replace the Amazons who fell in battle against the dark gods.

Many of her Sisters would have urged to her take the man will he or nil he and be done with it. Some might have even respected Bruce for his attempt to force a more powerful opponent to his hand. Others would have derided him for his stupidity. What hope had he against any Amazon, let alone Diana, gifted by the gods?

Diana had lived too long in Patriarch’s World, however, and knew the insult he had paid her with his actions. How could she have misjudged him so badly? She had felt he was hiding something, but every instinct had told her that she could trust him. How could she have been so wrong? How could he have hidden such from her, Diana, who had been the goddess of Truth?

“Christ but you need a keeper, Diana. Don’t you have any survival instincts at all?”

She frowned and rolled onto her back. Where had that come from? Why say such a thing? She remembered the exasperation in his voice. His words and the tone of his voice had confused her at the time. In retrospect it almost seemed like a prophetic warning.

She remembered his humor and intelligence. He had been so patient with her, teaching her to drive the Triumph. He had carried their picnic basket despite her obviously superior strength. He had held her with discretion and respect as they danced. He had called her back to check on her and spoken with her for hours after breaking off their date. He had admitted that he lied to her.

Were these the actions of the same man who had threatened her on that dark bluff? Diana sat up straight in bed. She thought not. Either he had dissembled and played her for a fool the entire time, indicating some dark ulterior motive, or his actions on the bluff were false. If his intent had been to lure her into a false sense of security, why would he have foiled his own work with such an overt act of hostility? No. Diana felt her doubts and self-recriminations melt away. She had not misjudged him. Her perception of his actions that night had been clouded by her own feelings.

Given this paradigm shift, what did that tell her about his actions in the car? Obviously he had intended to drive her away. Diana scowled in the darkness. She disliked being manipulated. If he did not care for her company, why did he not merely say so? Even his lies on the phone had been more in character than his brutality.

Perhaps he was afraid. Afraid of what? Of her? That did not fit quite right. Her identity as Wonder Woman was another possible threat to him. Was he involved in criminal activity? Could he be threatened because of her?

Diana looked at the clock. 4 a.m. She had wasted enough time pondering his actions. The man had kept her awake for a week. She would have the truth and she would have it now.

She swung out of the bed with renewed vigor and removed the shift she wore when sleeping at the Watchtower. She still did not quite trust Flash not to try and view her nudity. She hastily donned her uniform, attaching the breastplate and girdle in place. She pulled the band from her plait and quickly brushed out her hair before settling the crown of her rank on her brow. Her boots slipped on easily, hugging her calves and providing her shins protection from blows.

She strode through the Watchtower with purpose in her step. “I am leaving,” she informed a startled Green Lantern as she passed the Monitor Womb.

“At 4 a.m.?” he called down the hall after her. “You get a booty call or what?”

She set the controls on the teleporter for Gotham and moments later burst into being in the sky above the city. She flew swiftly toward Wayne Manor, resolve firm in her breast.

*****

Bruce woke unexpectedly but kept his body relaxed and his eyes closed. What had awakened him? An imperious rapping at his balcony door answered that question. What the hell?

He glanced at the clock. It was just after four in the morning. He’d watched the monitor feed when he got back to the Manor, ignoring his reaction to her brief nudity and telling himself he was just looking for injuries. When he’d been satisfied that she was unharmed he’d switched off the feed and gone on patrol. He’d been in bed a little over thirty minutes.

He edged to the side of the glass door and caught a glimpse behind the heavy draperies. Oh hell. Diana. He cursed silently and swiftly moved across the room to grab a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. The rapping came again as he was struggling with the silk pants, trying to figure out which was front and back. Finally he just put the damn things on, figuring if he couldn’t tell, she couldn’t either.

He jerked the drapes open and stared at her through the glass door. She was in full uniform, her hair blowing slightly in the night breeze. He slid the door open and stepped out onto the balcony. The wood was cold against his bare feet. He felt something stir in him at her solemn gaze.

“Wonder Woman,” he said in a cool voice. “It’s, what, 4 o’clock in the morning?”

“Are you involved in criminal activities?” she asked calmly.

He blinked at the non sequitor. “What? No!” he said. Well, not exactly.

“You are lying,” she decided. He stared at her.

“You came here at 4 o’clock in the morning to accuse me of being a criminal and then call me a liar?” he said, incredulous. “Are you insane?” His mind raced. Why had she come?

“Those words you said last week. What you did,” she said. Oh yeah. He remembered. Vividly.

“I do not want this,” she had said. He’d reminded himself of that a thousand times since then. He used those words as a mantra to try and forget, but he could still taste her breath on his lips. He could still see her body like marble in the moonlight. He could still smell the spicy sandalwood scent of her hair.

He could still hear the rip as he tore her clothes.

“What can I say? I wanted you.” It was God’s honest truth. He still wanted her. “Why, have you changed your mind?” he asked with an attempt at a Bruce Wayne leer. “I’m a bit short on sleep but I’m always up for the job.”

“You purposefully did those things to drive me away. You do it again now. Why?” she persisted. “Why would you do such a thing, unless something about my presence threatened you in some way?” He could hear the hurt in her voice, but knew that hurt meant nothing to her right now. Here on the balcony she was all Amazon, a huntress in pursuit of her prey. He felt his blood rouse in response.

Her blue eyes were shadowed by the night, but pierced him nonetheless. He found his tongue tied, unable to lie outright. For a moment he thought she had slipped the Lasso of Truth on him somehow, but it was still coiled at her hip. He felt caught by the force of her will. He felt her eyes stripping him layer by layer, seeking the truth. Goddess of Truth. He grit his teeth, fighting the strange desire to confide in her. No. Too many people knew already. The list seemed to grow exponentially each decade.

He had made his choice when he joined the League. Bruce Wayne and Batman must remain two separate entities. Sometimes he thought that it was the only thing that kept him sane. He stared into her eyes, feeling the urge pass safely and dissipate into the night sky.

He said nothing.

She looked at him a moment before turning away slightly, releasing him from her gaze. She walked to the edge of the balcony and looked over the city.

“I… like you, Bruce,” she said softly, woman more than warrior for once. “I like being with you. I like talking to you. These things have been absent from my life for a long time. But I will not abide lies.” She stood straight and proud, moonlight edging her profile with a soft radiance.

He managed to suppress the urge to reach out and feel the light where it touched her skin, but couldn’t stop himself from moving to stand beside her.

“Are you a criminal?” she asked, turning to look him directly in the eye. Her low-heeled boots made up the height difference between them.

“No,” he said, relieved that he could tell her the honest truth. He saw the relief in her eyes.

“Tell me you do not wish my company,” she said quietly, “and I shall leave and disturb you no longer.”

He felt something loosen inside him as he resigned himself to what was inevitable. He couldn’t give her up. Not yet. Bruce Wayne was getting involved with Wonder Woman whether Batman liked it or not.

Bruce reached out and touched her arm, sliding his fingers down over the cold metal of her bracer and covered her hand with his own.

“I want you, Diana,” he admitted to himself and her, “but it’s a mistake, and I’m afraid it’s going to cost us both in the end.”

“A warrior does not turn from battle,” she said with a quirk to her lips.

“Somehow I knew you’d say something like that,” he murmured, giving in to the temptation to lean forward and brush her lips once with his. They were surprisingly chilled beneath his own. He’d always figured Diana didn’t really feel the cold.

“It is late. I should return to the Embassy,” she said when he stepped back. “I apologize for waking you in the middle of the night.”

“I may wish you hadn’t,” he warned her. “But I’m glad you did.”

*****
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Darkest Knight