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) 2006 by Djinn. This story is Rated
PG-13.
Strangers
by Djinn
Bruce crouched on the
rooftop, watching Selina as she put the baby to bed.
"So, is she
yours?" The voice was harsh--and
one he'd given up ever hearing again.
He whirled. Diana stood half in the shadows, her hair
much longer than he remembered.
"Hello,
Bruce." There was absolutely
nothing happy in her greeting.
"Diana."
She joined him at the edge of
the roof, watching silently for a moment.
"Is the child yours?"
"Would it make a
difference to you if she were?"
She turned away without answering.
"Have you seen
Clark?"
"No."
"You came here
first?"
"No."
He waited for more, but she
didn't give it to him. "Go away,
Diana."
"Fine." She didn't even stand, seemed to explode from
her crouch into the air, disappearing into the night like a bat.
"Fine," he
muttered. He looked over at Selina's
apartment. The lights were out. Selina and her child had gone to bed.
"She's not mine,"
he whispered.
He wondered if Diana would
even care.
---------------
Clark got the feeling that
someone was watching him again. He'd
been feeling that way off and on all day.
He got up from his chair, walked to the window, and scanned the other
buildings with vision that could no longer be called super.
"What is it?" Lois came over,
her smile dying as she saw his face.
"Is something out there?"
"Someone, I think."
He saw a tightness come over Lois's face.
A tightness he hadn't seen for almost a year--not since Diana had gone
away.
"Oh," she said.
He wasn't sure what to say.
"So, you can just tell
it's her? Or has she made contact?"
He looked down.
"Great. You can just tell." The old brittleness was back in her
voice.
He winced at the sound of
it. Their life had been so sweet when
Diana had been gone.
He hadn't really missed her.
Had barely thought about her.
Not till this minute, when he
knew with every fiber of his being that it was her somewhere watching him. He turned back to the window, mouthed,
"Diana?" Then closed the
drapes, shutting her away from them.
Lois walked over and opened
the curtains back up. "Do we have
to hide from her now?"
"Lois, that wasn't what
I was doing."
She held her hand up. The old sign that she didn't want to talk
about this.
He nodded, following her to
the couch, pulling her in to cuddle, even though she was mad and hurt and
probably didn't want him touching her.
He sighed and tried to pay more
attention to his wife than to the other woman out there on a neighboring
building.
------------
Cassie sat by Connor's
statue, plucking weeds from the grass.
She heard the hiss of movement behind her, the familiar sound of armor
and lasso rubbing. Then the gentle touch
of soft red boots on hallowed ground.
"Go away, Diana."
"I know you're angry
with me."
"I'm not angry with you,
anymore. That's the beauty of all that
time alone. I got over it--got over
everything."
"Even Connor?"
Cassie wanted to turn and fly
at her. Wanted to punch and kick and
hurt Diana the way Diana had hurt her when she'd abandoned her. When she'd left her all alone the time she'd
needed her the most. "I'll never be
over Connor. But I am over needing you."
Diana sat down next to her,
the movement effortless. "That
seems to be a trend."
"You left us."
"I needed time."
"Well, you got it. A year is a long time." Cassie pushed herself to her feet. "I've got to go. There are still villains out there. Criminals and the like. You remember those, Diana? Those things you used to fight."
"Before I became a
killer?" Diana didn't sound as if
the idea bothered her. She'd made peace
with it, apparently.
She could take her peace and
stick it. "I never called you
that. I defended you."
"Maybe you shouldn't
have." Diana studied her. "You've changed."
"It's what we wonder
women do." Cassie knew she'd
changed. When she looked in the mirror,
she didn't see a girl anymore. Grief
would do that. Grief that came from
love, tasted only for a moment then lost on a battlefield when her lover had
given his life to save everyone--including this hard, cold woman who stood
before her now. "I have to
go."
She didn't wait to see what
Diana might say. She just took off,
flying fast.
And didn't look back.
------------
Donna woke with a start. The draperies billowed out, a warm breeze
blowing through them. It felt good, except
for the fact that she was sure she'd shut the window.
"Who's there?"
"It's me."
"Diana?"
Her sister moved into the
light, and Donna smiled, joy filling her.
Until she took in Diana's expression, the lack of light in her eyes, the
tight set of her mouth. Vacant--she
looked like a body with no soul.
"Sit." She scooted up, leaving room for Diana to sit
on the end of the bed, like when they'd been younger.
Diana crossed her arms over
her chest and turned away.
Donna waited for her to say
something, but she said nothing. "You
came to me, Diana. Why?"
"I don't know why."
"Maybe because you
missed me?"
"I did. I missed everyone." Diana turned, but she was standing in the
shadows, and Donna couldn't read her expression any better than if she'd still
had her back to her.
"Where have you
been?"
"Everywhere. Nowhere."
"You used to give less
poetic answers."
Diana stepped out of the
darkness. "You think that was
poetry?" She sounded angry.
"Well, that or you were
just being flip." Donna knew she'd
hit a nerve, was trying to--anything to provoke Diana into opening up to her.
"I was being serious,"
Diana said. "I tried to help people. No one wanted my help. Or they did, but my help didn't make any
difference. People die with alarming
regularity."
"Well, as long as you
weren't the one killing them..."
Donna laughed, thinking such a harsh sound might make Diana let her in
even more.
Diana covered the distance in
a blur of color and black. She grabbed
Donna by the throat. And then she stared
down at her, as if she couldn't believe Donna had done that. As if she couldn't believe she had reacted
that way to her.
Donna pried her fingers loose, just enough so she could talk. "Nice reflexes. Might want to work on the overreaction."
Diana let her go. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you aren't
acting like the Diana I know. The Diana
I love. Look how long you've been
gone. Cassie needed you. She was all alone."
Diana glared at her. "Where were you? Why didn't you help her?"
"Cassie and I were never
that close."
"Then why do you
care?"
Donna looked up at her, trying
to load every ounce of disappointment that she could in her eyes.
Diana sat on the bed, her
hands clasped as she stared at the floor.
"I'm glad you're home,"
Donna said, touching her shoulder very gently.
"You're the only one,
then."
"Maybe if you were a
little happier to see us...?"
"I am happy to see
you. All of you."
"It's not really coming
through." Donna smiled at Diana when
she finally glanced over her way.
"Maybe you need to work on that, too?"
She'd been hoping for even a
small smile out of Diana. Instead, she
burst into tears and reached for her, sinking down on the bed, her head in
Donna's lap as she wept.
"It's okay,
sweetheart." Donna stroked Diana's
hair, her other hand over Diana's, where it clutched the sheet over her
leg. "I love you, Diana. I'm so glad you're back."
Diana's weeping slowed, gave
way to little sobs, and then there was silence.
Donna realized her sister had fallen asleep. She sighed, brushing Diana's hair off her
face, studying her in the low light. She
touched something rough, realized there was a long, deep scar on Diana's neck,
just along her hairline.
"What happened to
you?"
But there was no answer as Diana
slept on.
-----------
Bruce crouched on the
rooftop, cursing the rain, as he sat his nightly watch while Selina put the
baby to bed.
This time he heard Diana
coming. He imagined she wanted him to.
"You never answered
me." Her voice was soft.
"She's not my child." He made his voice just as gentle.
"Then why this
vigil?"
"Because she could have
been." He looked over at her,
expected to see judgment or anger or something.
She only looked sad. Water dripped down her face, and where it
fell on her cheeks, it looked like tears.
"Where have you
been?" His words came out rushed,
as if something inside him wanted the question asked and was afraid the more
cautious Bruce would interfere.
"Hell." She leaned forward, pulling her long hair
away from her neck. Reaching down, she
took his hand, ran his gloved finger over a long scar. "Some people never forget."
"Who did this to
you?"
She laughed softly. "I did." She let her hair drop but didn't push his
hand away. His arm was covered in the drenched
black curtain of her hair, and he moved his hand back along her neck, pulling
her to him.
"What happened?"
"I think I wanted to
die." She laughed, a sound both
frightening and heartbreaking. "I
survived that entire crisis, and I wanted to die." She laughed again; it was shrill, like nails
on a chalkboard.
He kissed her to stop the
sound. Or that's what he told himself as
he found himself pulling her to him.
Her lips were soft under
his. Like the few times he'd actually
kissed her. Like the thousands of times
he'd fantasized about it.
"I've missed you,"
he said, his mouth forming the words against her cheek, as he kissed her skin,
licking up rain that tasted like salt--she really was crying.
She pulled him away from the
ledge, back to where the roof was flat and the shadows were deep. She pulled his uniform off and then took hers
off. She started to draw him toward her,
but he said, "No," and she let go of him.
Taking her hand, he pulled
her into a place where the shadows did not dominate, where he could see her
better. She stared up at him, a resigned
look on her face.
"Why?" he
asked. "Why this? Why now?"
"I want to feel
something."
"Does it matter what
that something is?"
She closed her eyes.
He snuggled up against her,
letting his arm rest on her belly. The
rain splashed down around them. The
water they lay in was cold.
"Where have you been,
Diana?"
"I was
everywhere." She put her hand over
his, pushing it into her skin.
"Where?"
"I tried to
atone." She looked over at him, a
grim smile on her face. "I tried to
atone without actually believing I needed to."
"Then why do it?"
"Because everyone else
thought I needed to."
"You stopped me from
killing Alex. You said it wouldn't be
worth it."
"It wouldn't have
been. For you."
"Ah."
She turned, her body pushing
into his. "I set off Armageddon,
Bruce. And if I went back in time, I'd
do it again, because I wouldn't know how much it will hurt to lose everyone I
love."
"We didn't push you
away. You went away. To discover who Diana was. You seemed okay with that decision."
"I know. I was
okay. Until I got away from everyone." She traced his cheek, moved up to his
eyebrows. "I think I would have
found out who I was less painfully if I'd stayed here."
"I wouldn't have been
here."
She shrugged, as if the idea
that her statement would make sense wasn't something she could worry about.
"You said you didn't
come to me first."
"I lied. Of course I came to you first."
"Did you go to
Clark? After?" It surprised him how much it still bothered
him that she might love Clark more.
"Yes. But only from a distance."
"I'm sure he knew you
were there. You know he's gotten most of
his powers back?"
"Donna told me. That's good for him."
"Maybe."
She sighed. She could probably recognize the old slap at
metas.
"So, here we are." He was unsure why there were there, lying
naked, on this sodden, icy roof.
"Yes." She kissed him suddenly. Her lips moving frantically against his.
"Diana. No."
He pushed her away, reached for their uniforms.
"Don't you want
me?" She sounded like a little
girl.
He pressed against her, letting
her feel that he did, in fact, want her very much. "I think you need to make your peace
with the others first."
She let him go, her eyes
distant. As if he'd turned her down
altogether.
"Diana. I don't want to be your safety net."
"When have you ever been
anyone's safety net?" Her words
would have torn him apart if she hadn't pushed her face into his chest, as if
she couldn't stand that she'd just said that to him.
He held her, indulging
himself, enjoying the feel of her naked flesh against his own. His hand found the scar again.
"There was a mob,"
she said. "They were angry at
me. I could have flown away."
"You let them take
you?"
She nodded, the motion felt
against his chest. "One of them cut
me. It stung. It woke me up. I got away easily. I didn't hurt any of them. And I just let it bleed for a while."
He waited.
"I didn't try to stop
it. I thought if I'm supposed to be
dead, I'll die. I was so disappointed
when it stopped bleeding."
He nodded. He'd been there a few times. Or almost.
He'd always crawled back to safety.
He'd never just sat and let it bleed.
But then, he wasn't a goddess, his wound wouldn't have stopped bleeding. "What happened then?"
"I just lay there. For days, I think. It healed, in its fashion."
Sort of like their
relationship. Healed, in its fashion.
"I should go, I
guess."
He didn't want to let her
go. "Yes, you should."
She pulled away slowly, not
meeting his eyes. Her uniform was on far
too quickly, and he wondered if he'd ever see her body bare and open to him
like that again.
If he didn't, he knew it'd be
his own damn fault.
--------------
Clark flew over Metropolis,
and the clouds gave way as he laughed, reveling in the feeling of flight. He'd missed this. God, how he'd missed this.
Then he sensed her, and
looked for her out of reflex, expecting his vision to keep pace with his other
reemerging powers.
"I'm here," he
heard her say, and thanked God his ears were back to normal.
She was waiting for him past
the clouds, a tentative smile on her face.
He headed toward her, knowing he should make her come to him, but
unwilling to do it.
"Hello," she
said. Her voice was rough. As if speech was a hard thing.
"Hello." He smiled, wished he could pull back the
overwhelming joy he felt at seeing her.
At seeing her like this: Superman
to Wonder Woman again. With Lois, he was
Clark. In Metropolis, he was Clark. He'd chosen that life. He loved that life.
But up here. In the clouds. He was Kal.
He was Superman.
He was Diana's.
"I missed you," he
said softly.
"I missed you,
too." She gazed down at the tall
buildings so far below them. "How
are you two doing?"
"We're doing great."
She nodded, didn't challenge the lie. He
hated having to lie. He and Lois had
been doing great, but they weren't now that Diana was back.
"Everything's
different," she said. She met his
eyes. She'd always seemed so fearless to
him. The one thing he could count
on. But her expression was shaken. As if she couldn't count on herself, much
less take care of anyone else.
He moved to her, not
realizing what he was doing until she was in his arms. "I love you," he murmured, as he
pulled her close.
She wrapped her arms around
him for a minute, relaxed, but only briefly.
"I love you, too." Then
she pulled away.
He studied her. "You've seen Bruce?"
A small nod.
Bruce loved her. Clark knew this. He'd always known this. And she loved Bruce. She'd gone to Bruce, after Max Lord. She'd told him what happened, had wanted him
to hear it from her.
Clark had always thought that
Bruce's rejection had hurt her more than anything Clark had done to her in that
terrible fight Lord had provoked. Clark
had broken her bones; Bruce had broken her heart.
But then, she'd broken Bruce's,
too. She was supposed to be
perfect. Bruce had believed in her, when
he believed in very few other things.
Clark suspected that Bruce
was willing to believe in her again. Or
maybe she'd be the one believing in him.
Either way, Clark knew Diana wouldn't be free any longer. Somehow, he didn't think that would make Lois
feel any more secure.
"Be kind to each
other," he whispered.
She frowned, her eyebrows
going up.
"It's what matters,
Diana. It's what gets us through the
hard times. Being kind to each
other." Like he and Lois were being
to each other now that this woman who made them question things had returned.
She nodded slowly, as if she
had to think about it, to process it.
His old Diana had been so quick.
His old Diana was gone.
"I've changed," she
said softly.
"We've all
changed."
"You look the
same." And finally the old warmth
was in her voice, the old tenderness in her eyes. "I'm sorry. For whatever role I played in the hurt and
the pain and the destruction. I'm
sorry."
He thought she was. Sorry that she'd had a role, but not sorry
for what she'd done. The old Clark
wouldn't have been able to see the distinction.
The old Clark hadn't been through Hell.
"You were a pawn. Max Lord wanted you to be the one to kill
him."
She nodded.
"And you did it to save
Bruce."
"And you."
"And me. And the world from me."
She nodded. "That, too." Then she surprised him, touching his arm,
letting her hand linger. "I'm sorry
about Connor."
Clark looked down. He tried not to think about Connor. Hated going home because there were still so
many reminders of the boy in his parent's house.
Diana had never warmed to
Connor. But Cassie had. He met Diana's eyes. "Do you know where she is?"
"No. She was at his statue when I first came
back."
"She's with the
Titans. But she's not the
same." He shrugged--like he'd said:
who among them was the same?
"I have to go find her."
He nodded. "Thank you for coming to see me."
"Thank you for making
this easy."
He imagined Bruce hadn't made
it quite so easy. But then that was
probably why she loved Bruce so much.
She leaned in, kissed him
gently on the lips. It was the sweetest
kiss she'd ever given him. He knew right
then he was losing her.
For now.
She pulled away, and he
thought she knew what he was thinking.
They'd survived a thousand years together.
He could survive her and
Bruce.
He just hoped the same could
be said for his marriage.
--------------
Cassie stood on the sand,
watching the water break gently over her feet.
She'd loved to do this as a child.
Loved to race the waves, tempt fate, and make her mom yell at her to
come in a bit.
"I shouldn't have left
you."
She whirled. This time she hadn't heard
Diana coming. The woman who stood before
her looked like a different Diana than last time. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and
her mouth wasn't set in a tight line.
Compassion--finally, Cassie saw some damn compassion in her idol's expression.
"Cassie, I'm
sorry."
Cassie backed up, afraid that
if she didn't, she'd run to Diana. And
she didn't want to do that.
She didn't need anyone,
anymore. Especially not this woman she'd
worshiped. This woman who'd deserted her
when Cassie's world had been collapsing around her.
"I hate you," she
said, but the words came out wrong. They
came out, "I needed you."
"I know."
"I loved him. And he died.
And you left me alone to deal with that."
"I know." There were no hard words, no harsh
stares. Just the endless love and
compassion that had drawn her to Diana in the first place.
"I feel like someone
carved me out inside, Diana. And put
cement in there. I can't feel
anything."
"Except the
rage." Diana moved toward her. "And the pain. You feel that. I know you do."
She was within arm's
reach. Cassie should move back
again. But she didn't. And she didn't flinch away when Diana reached
for her.
Warm, strong arms--the only
arms strong enough to hold her--closed around her. For a moment, Cassie panicked. She pushed at Diana, realized how much
stronger she'd become when Diana had to work to hold her.
"Let me help you,"
Diana whispered, then she moved Cassie's hair away, kissed her on the side of
her neck. "Let me share your pain."
Cassie felt something inside
her break. Control deserted her. Anger retreated just enough for the grief to
surge back up. She felt as if the pain
would kill her. She felt as if Connor
was dying in her arms again. She
felt...everything.
Diana hugged her fiercely,
rocking her, murmuring, "I'm sorry," over and over. And Cassie gave in. She wept.
She let the pain out, to the only person who could bear it.
And Diana didn't run away
this time. Diana held her, crying, too,
sinking down onto the warm sand and keeping her safe while she grieved.
No one had been there to keep
her safe. Why had no one been there?
She closed her eyes, trying
to breathe through a stuffed nose, knowing her eyes would be swollen and
ugly. Diana stroked her hair, not moving,
not even shifting under Cassie's weight.
Finally, Cassie took pity on her and sat up.
They stared at each other,
and Diana frowned, as if just realizing something.
She touched Cassie's
cheek. "You're a woman now. The girl is gone."
"She died with
Connor."
"I know. I died with my mother on that
battlefield." She played with her
hair, near her neck, the same place she'd kissed on Cassie's neck. "Things would have been so different if
I'd died instead of her."
"Different, but not
better."
Diana smiled at her, and it
was an expression full of such profound tiredness that Cassie pulled her
close.
"I missed you so much,
Diana."
"I shouldn't have left
you. I don't deserve your
forgiveness." She kissed Cassie on
the forehead. "I'll work hard to
earn it back."
"I'm not the same
person. Maybe you won't want my
forgiveness."
"I do." Diana pushed herself up, held a hand out to
Cassie. "Come on. Let's walk.
You can fill me in on what's been happening."
Cassie let her pull her
up. It felt like old times. Or close enough.
------------------
Bruce climbed up the stairs
from the Batcave, found Alfred filling the ice bucket at the bar. "We expecting company you forgot to tell
me about?"
"I heard that Miss Diana
is back."
"Back. Not in town.
Not here." Although, he
wished she was. Impulsive Bruce was
kicking cautious Bruce heartily in the ass.
"I see." Alfred started to wipe down a perfectly clean
glass. "But if she were here, would
you be happy to see her?"
"That's a hard question."
"Is it? Why?"
Bruce turned to glare at
Alfred. "Because you know
why."
"Ah. Of course.
Because you're you."
"Very funny." Bruce heard the doorbell ring. "Company?"
"Miss Diana stopped in a
few hours ago when you were out. I told
her to come back when you were here."
He put ice in the glass, poured it half full of scotch, and handed it to
Bruce. "I suggest you drink it
quick, before you lose your nerve."
Then he was gone, and a
moment later, Bruce heard him say, "Ah, Miss Diana. Yes, he's back." Alfred led her into the room.
She wasn't in uniform. She was in a cream dress that fell around
her, managing to accent her figure without being obvious. Her hair was tied back loosely, and he could
just make out the scar on her neck.
She smiled when she saw
him. She looked...soft. "It took me a little longer than I
thought it would. To do what you
said." She accepted the glass of
wine Alfred poured for her.
"It's good to see you
again, my dear." Alfred took her
hand, looking utterly pleased she was back.
"Do you two want me to
give you some privacy?" Bruce
turned away, sitting on the couch, wishing he could have a refill on the drink
he had sucked down to give himself courage.
He'd been so brave in the
rain. So wise lying naked next to
her. Maybe that was the key? Maybe they had to be naked. In the rain. On a roof.
"He can be an ass. But don't let that deter you." Alfred touched her cheek gently, his eyes
full of something that looked a lot like compassion. "He's missed you greatly." Then, without looking at Bruce, he left.
She walked over to the couch,
sat down next to him. He took the wine
from her, drank some and handed it back.
"You seem nervous, Bruce."
"You don't."
"Well, maybe because I'm
the one making peace with my demons."
"Is that what I
am?" He sounded way too
bitter. "How did the visit with the
Clark demon go?"
"About how you'd
expect." She met his gaze with a
look that gave him nothing back, and he sighed.
They weren't going to discuss Clark, she was saying. Clark was off limits.
Which probably meant a lot of
good things for Bruce if he could just forget that somewhere, probably years in
the future, Clark was still there.
"This may not have been
the best idea," she said suddenly, starting to rise.
He pulled her back down,
pushed the glass up to her lips. "Drink some. You'll feel better. Hell, drink all of it. You'll feel a lot
better."
She drained the glass, and he
took it from her and put it on the table.
"So."
"So."
They sat. The only thing making noise in the room was
the clock, ticking on the mantle.
"I'm not the woman I
once was, Bruce. I know you loved that
woman. But..."
"But what?"
"But I'm not sure you
ever really wanted her to be real. That
other Diana who actually stood for something."
He looked at her, saw that
she wasn't hiding anything. He touched
her cheek, and she smiled sadly.
"I'm not sure I wanted you to be real, either. You were the one thing I believed in. Especially whenever my own world threatened
to spin out of control. I'd look at you,
and everything would be okay."
"But I wasn't that
person. I proved that with Max
Lord."
He sighed. "The only thing you
proved with Max Lord was that you were willing to do whatever it takes."
She looked surprised.
"Diana, I wanted to kill
Alex. And I knew that if I had, you
wouldn't have judged me for it."
"I wouldn't have."
"But still you stopped
me."
"I knew you would have
judged yourself."
"Because of how harshly
I judged you?"
"Yes." Her voice was even. No anger in it. No pain.
Just the truth. He remembered
she'd been the goddess of that.
"I hurt you." He looked away.
"You did." She touched his hand, as if to acknowledge
it. And maybe to forgive it.
"I'm sorry."
"I've been saying that a
lot, too, lately." She smiled
gently. "Would you hold me?"
"That's an easy
thing." He pulled her close.
"It's never been before
for us."
"We're not the same
people." He sighed; she felt so
good pressed against him. Even with
clothes on.
She relaxed a little more in
his arms. "No. We're not the same people."
He buried his face in her
hair. "I never stopped loving
you."
"I never stopped loving
you, either." She moved so his lips
were against her own. Then she kissed
him. And it held none of the desperation
of the last time. This kiss was sweet
and slow. And sure.
She seemed sure of him. And sure of herself. Or at least sure enough to try this for real.
They kissed for a long
time. He finally pulled away, stroking
her hair, gazing into her eyes like a lovesick fool. Only he couldn't feel foolish. She'd been gone for so long. And before that--he'd pushed her away so
hard; she should have been gone forever.
Yet, here she was.
A discreet cough
sounded. Alfred stood watching
them. Bruce was not sure how long he'd
been there.
"Sir, shall I set
another place for dinner? Or would you
like me to bring you something later?
When you and Miss Diana have finished catching up?" He looked up the stairs--subtle, he wasn't.
Diana smiled. "Something later, I think, Alfred."
"Excellent, Miss. I remember that you're a vegetarian."
She nodded.
"I'm not," Bruce
said.
Alfred ignored him and left. Bruce knew there was probably no meat in his
immediate future, unless he caught and cooked it himself.
"So?" She stared up the stairs meaningfully.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. Then she touched his lips with her fingers.
"Do you want me?"
"Yes." The answer was out practically before she'd
finished speaking, and she laughed softly.
"How long has it been since
you laughed?" he asked.
"A long time."
He pulled her to him, kissing
her hard, trying to make her realize how sorry he was. How much he'd missed her.
She pulled him up, kissing
him as they maneuvered the stairs. But
when they got up to the bedroom, she seemed uncertain.
"Have you ever?"
"No." She met his gaze. "No, I never have."
"Let's take this
slow."
"We don't have to. It's not like you'll hurt me." Then she looked down. Because he had hurt her, and they both knew
it. And he hadn't needed super strength
to do it.
"Let's take it slow,
Diana. We have the rest of our lives to
get it right."
"To get a lot of things
right."
"Yes. To get a lot of things right."
She smiled at him, and, for a
moment, he saw the woman he'd idolized. Then
her smile changed, and there was something harder in it, something hurt,
too. And something that looked like
forgiveness. And home.
"Can we still get
naked?" she asked softly, her eyes gleaming, but her smile a little
uncertain.
"I think it's required."
He undressed her, then she
undressed him. She slid under the covers
and he followed her. They kissed. He meant to take it slow. He was relatively sure she did, too. But they kept moving, holding each other
closer, hands exploring, lips following.
They set a new land speed
record for taking it slow.
She smiled at him lazily as
he held her close. "Oops."
"That's not what I meant
to happen." Although, God help him,
he was very glad it had.
She yawned, and her eyes
drooped, and he thought he'd never seen anything sexier than a sated Diana in
his bed.
Until she whispered, "We
can take it slow tomorrow." And
smiled, a sensual, secure smile. One
just for him, he thought.
He knew the one he was
smiling belonged to her alone.
FIN