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.
Nothing Left to Lose
by Djinn
The last thing Diana hears is
the triumphant laugh of Athena. The last
thing she feels is Hermes's soft kiss on her cheek. The last thing she sees is everything--she
can see again.
Olympus disappears, and she
is swallowed in blackness. The others
went on ahead; she came back here to face the gods alone. Athena wanted to reward her in private. She granted her the wish of her
heart--Martin's life restored, all the lives Medusa
took trying to get to Diana restored.
And then for Diana's selflessness, the goddess granted her the
restoration of her sight as well.
"To make you whole again is the wish of my heart," Athena said, as
she held Diana close. "You have
done well, daughter of the Amazons. I
have never been prouder of my champion."
Diana wonders if she would
have fought as hard for Athena if she had not hoped the goddess would finally
bring Martin back to life. Diana also
wonders if Athena knew this, and that was why she had refused her up to then,
because she needed Diana to be very motivated to successfully navigate the
realm of the dead.
Diana wishes she didn't have
to question the motives of her gods. She
wishes they were just benevolent beings the way gods should be.
The way the metas are told they should be. Aren't they gods too of a sort?
"Thank you," Hermes
whispered. He had always been kind to
her, had always been one of her favorites.
She was glad she could help him.
Then they sent her on her
way. Back to Earth.
She appears in the middle of
the Embassy. Jonah is the first to see
her. His look is one of shock, and she
is suddenly struck by the idea that he appeared too easily in her life. Made himself too
indispensable. His "Aw, shucks,
ma'am," routine suddenly seems too good to be true.
Peter turns around next. She begins to smile, wants to ask him about
Martin, but she doesn't see the little boy anywhere. Did Athena lie?
She steps toward Peter, and
he seems to freeze, staring at the blindfold she still holds in her hand, then
at her eyes.
"You can see?" he
asks, anger rising in a way she can feel from where she stands across the room.
"I can. Athena restored--"
"You bitch!" The words erupt out of him, and she
flinches. She has been called that
before, but never by one who loves her.
"Peter, I asked for
Martin--"
"Then where is
he?" He takes a step toward
her. "You lie. You give us words about love and hope and
peace. You spin such poetry, and we
don't realize until too late that it's poison.
My son is dead because of you. Because you engender more hatred than you do love. Because your words are empty, and you won't
protect even a child if it's not in your interest."
She said words like that to
Athena once. She thought the goddess
might smite her down in her rage. Peter
seems to have no such fear.
"Peter, he's
alive."
"Where? In my heart? My heart that you tore out of my body and shoved into stone with my
little boy. My heart that I sold
to the devil the day I came to work for you?"
In his eyes, there is no
regret. Nothing but anger and a hatred
that suddenly appears ancient.
Then the door crashes open,
and Martin rushes in. He is dressed in
the clothes he was wearing when he was turned to stone. He moves easily, and there is no sign that he
was ever cut down in the midst of his childhood. "Dad!"
Peter turns around. He looks back at Diana, and there is shock
and utter remorse in his face. He starts
to say something, but she holds up her hand.
"You've said enough for
now, Peter."
Turning, she walks away, down
the hall to her room. She feels every
muscle in her body complaining. She
finally feels her age, in the ache of her heart, in the complaining
joints. She has abused her body. And for what? To restore a son to a father who lost sight
of why his child was even important.
Does he love Martin or does he just hate Diana?
"Ambassador..." Jonah touches her arm, then
he pulls her into his arms. "I'm so
sorry."
His hand is warm where it
rests on her back. His
lips even warmer as they land on her neck.
She has the lasso around him
before he can realize he is caught.
"Who do you work for?"
He does not want to answer;
the lasso does not care. A moment later,
he says, "I don't know. An organization of some kind. They want...they want to bring down the metas. All of you
who think you have the right to look out for us--to judge what we need and what
we don't."
She drags him into her study,
yanking so hard he falls, and she doesn't care.
"Tell me everything."
He does. He unfortunately knows very little. She is not surprised. In her enemy's place, she would not have told
anything of importance to a minor operative working in such close proximity to
her lasso. She has the urge to strike
him. To make him pay
for trying to leverage her loneliness against her.
His kiss felt good. His arms were very warm.
She is so cold. How long has she been this cold?
"Get out. Never let me see you again, or I swear I will
kill you."
She tries to take the lasso
off him, but he has looped his hand over it.
"I love you, Diana."
"Everyone loves me,
didn't you know? Everyone loves me and
still they hurt me. Now, if you like
having hands, you will release my lasso."
He lets go, and she cracks
the lasso, causing it to fly up and off.
He will have a nasty rope burn on the back of his neck where the rope
grazed him. She did that on purpose.
He hurries away. She sees two of her aids coming toward
her. "Let me be," she says,
slamming the door. She catches a glimpse
of her reflection in the mirror and walks toward it.
Beautiful. She is so
beautiful. Even now, covered with the
dust and blood of fighting her way through Hades on her quest to rescue Hermes,
she is beautiful.
Beauty gets her nowhere. Beauty means nothing. She slams her hands into the mirror, the glass
breaking into huge shards and crashing to the floor. One large, spiderwebbed
piece clings stubbornly to the frame.
Her reflection is all askew, the cracks causing her face to look like a
Picasso drawing.
She thinks it the more
accurate reflection.
She left Themyscira to do good. To be an example. To
fight for things that are right and good.
Like Peter who hates
her. Like Martin who died because
someone hated her even more. Like Jonah,
who betrayed her and still believes he loves her.
She is sick of it all.
A chiming sound interrupts
her moment. She can hear Bruce paging
her on the JLA communicator. She finally
answers.
"Where the hell have you
been, Wonder Woman? I've been paging you
for hours."
"Sorry, Batman, I was in
the underworld. No service there, I
guess." She laughs softly, feels as
if she could break out into hysterical laughter if she lets herself.
"We need you."
"I'm not a member of the
JLA anymore, remember?"
"You left before you
could let us come to a decision."
"It was obvious what your
decision would be."
"You know that I don't
believe you're diminished in any way.
But what I believe doesn't matter here.
It's what the others believe. They
will look out for you. Even if it's done subconsciously. Superman especially." He takes a deep breath, dragging it out so it
comes easily across the connection.
"We don't have time to argue about this."
She can imagine how put out
he must appear with her, how forbidding his expression will be. She is making things difficult. He hates that.
"Diana, I called about
Superman. He needs our help."
"You've got full-time
members who aren't as handicapped as I am.
Ask one of them."
"Okay, maybe needing our
help wasn't exactly the truth. He's out
of control."
"And you want me to stop
him?" Kal shot at her. He picked up a gun and, not knowing if she
could still deflect bullets or not, shot at her. Until now, she pushed her anger at him deep
down.
Until now, she also pushed
down her anger for Bruce, the architect of the plan, the one who made Kal shoot
her. She heard him that day as she was
fighting. Giving Kal
the gun, making him do it. Saying
he couldn't. Their
brilliant mastermind.
Their
cold-hearted bastard.
"Get up here, Wonder
Woman." Bruce has taken on the tone
he uses with junior heroes, and Diana does not like it.
"Give me a few minutes
to clean up."
"We don't have a few
minutes."
She can feel the teleporter taking her without her permission. They will have words over this. She practices them as she strides to the
monitor womb.
But her anger is temporarily
put on hold when he looks up from a screen and a huge smile crosses his
face. "Your
eyes."
"Can I be reinstated
now?" She loads as much disdain as
she can into the question. Pushing him
aside, she watches the monitors. Kal an
hour ago, taking down everyone who tried to stop him. Kal just a few minutes ago, heading for a
building in a mountain of ice.
"Who is he after?"
"Does it matter? He's out of control."
She thought of the battles
she fought in Hades. At times, she felt
out of control there. When Hades trapped
her in his maze, when she wandered for what seemed like a hundred days, but was
only a few minutes, she felt as if she might go mad.
If Kal is feeling that, then
she sympathizes.
"I'll send you to
him. He might listen to you."
"Why? Because he loves me?" She says the word "love" with such
bitterness that he turns to stare at her.
"You love me too, Bruce.
Don't you?" She stalks
toward him, her jaw set, and he takes a step back. "You want me." Her voice is very low, and she sees him
swallow almost convulsively. "This
is the last thing I will ever do for you.
Or for the League."
"Understood."
They stand very close, and she grabs him and kisses him the way he did her when
he thought they were going to die.
The kiss means just as little.
They stare at each other, and
then he gently reaches out for the blindfold.
He takes something from his belt, working on the fabric. Then he hands it back. "Put it on."
She does. She can see through it perfectly. "Why?"
"Because he will react
to you better with it on."
"Ever
the master manipulator."
"It might save your
life."
"You're presuming I have
a life." Her laugh is bitter.
"Be careful. Come back."
"Either Kal or I will
die today. I'm not sure me coming back
is what you want. I won't be in a very
good mood."
He nods, and there is
something unfathomable in his eyes. As
she walks back to the teleport pad, she realizes it may have been sorrow.
The teleporter
leaves her in midair, and she flies toward the man she has been sent to
stop. Kal looks up, his expression one
she has never seen him wear.
Bruce was right; Kal is out
of control.
"Batman sent you?"
She nods.
"He thinks I'll listen
to you."
She shrugs. Kal loves her; she knows this. But Jonah loves her too. And Bruce. Ares might say he loves her. And Athena. Her goddess loves her most of all.
Love means nothing.
"They're afraid,"
she says.
"They should be
afraid."
"What are you going to
do?"
"Finish this."
"I can't let you."
"Why
not?"
It's a good question. It might make more sense to join him in
tearing up this thing he hates so much.
"Why should I let you do it?"
"Because
they're evil."
She laughs, and the sound is harsh even in her ears. "You're finally going to slay the
monster?" She laughs again,
remembering a thousand years worth of monsters he didn't slay. That he made her slay.
She should fight him just for
that.
He has apparently tired of
talk. He starts to fly, and she chases
after him. He is pulling ahead, so she
grabs his foot, holding on even as he tries to shake her off.
"I don't want to fight
you, Diana."
"Not your
decision."
She lands the first
punch. He lands the next two. He is holding back. She is not.
She sends him crashing to the ground with her next combination. He takes out three trees before he comes to
rest.
Standing, he takes a deep
breath. "Go away, Diana."
"No." Bruce was right about this, at least. She will never walk away from a fight. She will battle on until there is nothing
left in her.
She knows Kal will too. It
is, after all, how he died. It's how
they both died.
One of them will die here
today. She imagines it likely that it
will be her. Unless
Kal too has spent the last few days battling evil hellions in the underworld.
He flies at her, and when he
hits her this time, there is no restraint. She feels as if she's just run into
an oncoming freight train. She hits him
back just as hard, a satisfying "Oomph," coming out of him as he
flies backwards.
He stares at her, and she
knows they have come to the moment from which there is no turning back. They will try to kill each other. One of them will kill the other.
The concussion, as they come
together, probably knocks out the wildlife for a mile around them. He hits and kicks. His punches send her reeling. She gives as good as she gets.
And as the fight wears on,
they both lose altitude, the battle coming closer and closer to the ground,
their strength going into blows not into flying.
Then they are standing on terra firma, and his next blow knocks her back. She lands too hard, not able to turn the fall
into anything productive. The back of
her head slams against a rock and she fights the darkness that threatens
her. How tired must she be for that to
have nearly defeated her? A little blow
like that?
He is staggering toward her,
and she tries to get up, but she can't.
He stands over her, his foot raised.
He will stomp down, and her head will be crushed. And that will be the end.
She lifts her hands, willing
them to be ready to catch his foot as it descends, to throw him off
balance.
Her hands fall back, lie like
defenseless fish on the ground. She
moans at the feeling of helplessness.
Forcing her hand back up, she rips off the blindfold, refusing to look
away. He will have to stare into her
eyes as he kills her.
His foot comes down but lands
on the ground, not on her head. He tries
to pull her up, but he lacks the strength and falls down next to her.
"You're my best
friend," he says.
She pants, staring up at the
sky. "We're not best friends. We never have been." She looks over at him, sees that he is
staring at her. "It's just an
excuse we use. It lets us stay close, lets
us pretend that it's not something else we want."
"Yes. It does." He touches her face, and she sees his eyes
open wider. "You can
see." He smiles, his expression
joyous--a strange look given the state they've put each other in. "You can see."
"I can see."
She hears her communicator go
off. "Diana? Report."
Kal looks at her, his eyes
narrowing.
She peels off the
communicator, hands it to Kal. "Fry
it." She is too tired to squash
it. Besides, it sends Kal a message he
may or may not want to receive.
He smiles, only one side of
his mouth going up, as he lasers the communicator out of existence. "I got rid of mine earlier."
"Smart
boy." She rolls to her back again, lying still and
staring up at the sky. She knows Bruce
is still watching them from the Tower.
Will he always be watching
them?
"Do we keep
fighting?" she asks softly.
"No."
"I'll stop you if you go
after them again."
He rolls to his side, staring
down at her. "I know you will. I don't want to go after them anymore."
And then he leans down and
kisses her. It has been years since he
has kissed her this way. He has never
kissed her this way since Lois and he started seeing each other. Or since Diana's fantasy of a life with him,
before his marriage.
"Lois..." She doesn't want to talk about his wife. She wishes she could just kiss him and enjoy
it.
Peter was wrong about
her. She's not the devil. She pushes Kal away.
"Do you see Lois
here?" he asks.
"She's never here, yet
she's always with us."
"I sent her away. She's not with us anymore." He looks exhausted, his eyes barely open as
he talks. "I'm not that man
anymore. I'm not her Clark."
Diana tries to sit up, can
feel her body shaking, especially the abdominal muscles that protest the
unwanted movement.
But they have to leave. They are vulnerable now, and Bruce might kill
them both to keep the world safe. She
knows him too well. He loves her, but
that won't stop him from doing what he thinks is best.
Especially
when she has failed him.
"Kal. We have to
go."
He meets her eyes, and she
knows that he has thought the same thing, that Bruce will kill them. Maybe he welcomes that? "There's nowhere to go, Diana."
"Yes, there
is." She forces her muscles to obey
her, somehow gets to her feet, and pulls him up too. "Think about Thor," she says.
He frowns.
"Think hard about
Thor."
And then she begins the
ritual chant. Calling up the god of
thunder in a language she and Kal had one thousand years to learn.
The third time through, Kal
joins her, his voice adding a low counterpoint to her invocation.
And suddenly the Earth
disappears and they are in Asgard.
Thor stands before them. "My friends, you have
returned." He seems to take in how
bedraggled they are. "And it is a good
thing that we are no longer at war. You
would not last the day."
They collapse in a heap, and
she hears Thor calling for warriors to help.
One of them picks her up. It is Talvert. She used to
play keep-away with him.
"You have come
back," he says, joy suffusing his pale features. "You and Kal." He looks over at Kal. "You are both hurt. In all the years we fought, I have never seen
you so hurt."
"In all the years we
fought," Diana says, "we never fought each other."
"Ah. I would suggest not repeating the
experience."
She hears Kal laugh
softly. He is being half dragged, half
steadied by Thor. The god must know that
Kal will never allow himself to be carried when he can stagger home.
The stronghold smells of mead
and fresh rushes on the floors. They are
carried to a room high up, facing the inner courtyard. Asgard's strange
golden light streams in from the windows, and Talvert eases her down to a pile of deep furs.
"Do you sleep alone as
usual, friend Kal?" Thor almost
sounds like he hopes Kal will say he does.
"I sleep with her,"
Kal says. And there is a world of defeat in his voice.
There is also the future in it.
Thor helps him down, then covers them both with a white fur.
"Bring us new
clothes?" she asks, and Kal nods, even as he cuddles against her. "Like yours. Clothes like yours."
"It shall be done,"
Thor says, then he motions for Talvert
to go. Crouching down, he meets her
eyes. "You are in trouble?"
"You are sheltering
runaways. We seek sanctuary."
"I cannot give you
that." As her face falls, he lifts
a hand, smiling broadly. "You do
not need sanctuary, for you are home. I
am not harboring runaways; I am merely showing the most welcome champions of
Asgard to their rightful room."
Kal opens his eyes. "That's beautiful." He is trembling against her. The walk must have been nearly too much for
him.
"I will leave you. Clothing will be placed outside your
door. Come down when you are
rested. And...tired
of each other." Thor winks, then pushes himself up, leaving them alone.
"We are safe here,"
Kal whispers as if he does not quite believe it.
She is not sure he should
believe it. "We are probably safe
here." The gods can find them here, even if Bruce most likely cannot
bridge a thousand years--she's not quite ready to say it would be impossible
for him.
"I will not wait a
thousand years to try to kiss you."
His hand has dropped to her breast, where it rests lightly, and then he
kisses her again, his mouth opening. It
is the most possessive kiss he has ever given her, his hand dropping lower,
promising more even as he shudders in exhaustion against her.
"A promise for
later," she says, kissing him one last time, then
pulling his head down to her chest.
"Sleep, Kal."
He gives up the fight, closing
his eyes as he buries his face in her hair and falls asleep. His hand is tight on her inner thigh, his
breathing slow and even.
She puts her hand over his,
then lets herself drift.
They are safe for now. And they are
together. They will figure out their
future some other day.
FIN