by Mara

Summary: “John thought this might explain some things about Flash, because Batman-baiting was better fun than he’d exCONTINUITY: Takes place after “Hereafter” but contains no spoilers for it.

NOTES: This is a sorta kinda sequel to “Secrets, Societies, and Truths,”
containing some spoilers for the episodes “Secret Society” and “A Better
World.” The title is from a quote by philosopher Thomas Hobbes: “The
secret thoughts of a man run over all things, holy, profane, clean,
obscene, grave, and light, without shame or blame.” My deepest thanks to
Wyzeguy for his beta. Yo, man, *this* is why we made you our designated
guy. Any remaining girly verbosity is entirely my fault.

The night was oppressively dark and frigid. If not for his ring’s
ability to transfer power into heating his uniform, John was sure his
teeth would be trying to chatter their way out of his mouth. He glanced
over at Batman–who seemed impervious to both the cold and the dark–and
thought about just how aggravating the man was. He had enough macho
attitude it even made a former Marine wince. The man was just lucky that
Wonder Woman *liked* attitude.

Yep, John thought as he rubbed his eyes, boredom was guaranteed to make
his mind wander into areas he really didn’t want to consider, and
tonight was no exception.

There they were, stuck on a rooftop, watching the rear entrance to the
Central City Museum of Art, waiting to see if some new supervillain team
arrived to steal a priceless artifact from the Mesopotamian exhibit. Ho
hum. Another object of power, another supervillain.

It might be a sign that he needed a vacation if he’d just thought “ho
hum” and “another supervillain” in close proximity. Simply thinking the
words “ho hum” was probably a bad sign.

Batman looked right at home, blending into the sooty brick and stone of
the bank building. John sighed and looked down at his uniform, which
practically glowed in the dark. Maybe Batman had the right idea–being a
living target wasn’t *always* the best way to go. Too bad Katma hadn’t
met Batman–they’d have probably gotten along famously. Maybe he should
think about developing a stealth uniform.

Frowning down, he focused on the ring asking it to make the white parts
of the uniform morph into dark gray, but that still glowed too brightly.
All black with dark green just made him look…odd. Maybe dark green
with the lantern in black? The tiniest whisper of sound made him glance
up–Batman was looking over his shoulder at him, face totally blank.

With a sigh, John shifted his uniform back to its normal configuration.
Batman turned back to the binoculars. Right. Maybe he should leave the
fashion question for later.

Denied his uniform ruminations, John went back to pondering his
mysterious teammate, who stared through binoculars that looked like they
doubled as a supercomputer.

The night got darker and colder. The short wall behind which they
crouched was still blank and uninteresting.

This was really boring, John thought, yearning for some action–he was
going to fall asleep if he didn’t come up with something to keep himself
occupied.

Oh, what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“You don’t like me, do you?” John asked. It was worth it just to see
Batman turn and give what was probably a world-class glare. Glaring as
an Olympic sport. Except that Batman would take the gold every time.

Batman didn’t respond, just went back to looking through his binoculars
at the street below. John grinned as he noticed for the first time how
the gloved hand holding the binoculars shielded what little was visible
of Batman’s face. Good grief, but he was secretive.

“I don’t really care if you like me or not,” John went on, “but it gets
in the way of getting things done.”

That made Batman’s head turn rather faster. He started to say something,
but instead closed his mouth into that thin line that meant he was
really annoyed.

John thought this might explain some things about Flash, because
Batman-baiting was better fun than he’d expected. It might also be
considered reckless and/or suicidal, but hell, he had the most powerful
weapon in the universe on his finger. He’d probably survive. “What?” he
asked, all innocence.

“You want to talk *now*?” Batman growled.

“You got a better idea? We may be here while. And we don’t even know if
they’re gonna attack this location or one of the others.”

“I know how they think. They’ll be here,” Batman said.

You had to admire that kind of confidence. Batman was a human among
metahumans and aliens and such, and yet, his certainty never seemed to
falter. It helped that the man was damn brilliant, probably ten times as
smart as the rest of them. And he did have the best technology. Where
did he *get* it? It was tempting to try and find out but…it all came
back to the suicidal thing.

John sighed and went back to looking for approaching villains. Another
few minutes went by, John sneaking looks over at Batman, who appeared to
have turned to stone like one of Gotham’s gargoyles.

Batman was infuriating, John thought, especially the way he refused to
step up to the plate. Despite refusing full membership in the League, he
was its leader and everyone knew it. Everyone but Batman, apparently. He
insisted that Superman was in charge, while at the same time
orchestrating plans, ordering people around, and fixing the Watchtower.

Sure, John forced them to train together, but that just made him the
drill sergeant, not the boss. And Superman deliberately played the part
of a figurehead, allowing Batman to stay in the background. The Boy
Scout was aiding and abetting a dereliction of duty, which was unlike him.

It all came back to Batman’s desire to stay in the shadows and his
distrust and dislike of teamwork–just one of the attitudes that John
had trouble understanding. In the military, your unit kept you going,
made you try harder, saved your ass when the chips were down. The
Justice League pretty much had a handle on that part, up to and
including the snappy banter.

Your unit was supposed to be your family, though, and that was where
John’s mind came to a screeching halt–because if the League was his
family, it had to be the most fucked-up family *ever*.

A brief image flashed through his brain: Flash playing ball in the
backyard, Wonder Woman in the kitchen pulling muffins out of the oven,
and Batman seated in an armchair reading the newspaper with a pipe in
his mouth.

John squeezed his eyes shut and mentally groaned. Not only did he need
that vacation, but apparently he needed serious psychotherapy. Time for
a distraction before he went noisily insane on this damn rooftop.

“Maybe we *should* talk,” he said, glancing over at Batman.

A long pause. “About what?”

The tone was noncommittal and less adversarial than he’d expected. Had
he hit a nerve with his previous comments? Or was Batman bored too? Did
the man *get* bored? Somehow John had always figured he spent moments
like this planning new ways to frighten bank robbers or something.

“Teamwork, maybe,” John said.

Batman didn’t answer, turning back to his binoculars with shoulders hunched.

John crossed his arms. “Our teamwork could be better.”

“Well, I think we could be more efficient, but we’ve seen where that leads.”

John stared, trying to decide if that was supposed to be a joke.
“Sharing information and better coordination isn’t going to make us the
Justice Lords.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Batman managed to give the impression of a shrug and disdainful sniff
without ever actually moving. How did he *do* that? John leaned his head
back and stared at the sky, hoping for inspiration from the twinkling
stars. “I didn’t like what I saw when I looked at them either. But we
have a chance to be different.”

“Hmm.” It was less a thoughtful noise and more an annoyed one.

John leaned forward, wanting to shake the man until he saw sense. “We
tried splitting up after Grodd hit us. And it didn’t work. As the
Justice League we have the chance to do greater good, save more lives,
react faster to threats.”

“And the chance to do greater evil.”

Only years of training kept John from knocking the man on his ass with a
giant green fist. “Then why the hell are you still part of the League?”

Batman turned around long enough to smirk. “You said ‘hell.’ Goodness.”

“I was a Marine. I can say ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ too, but don’t change the
subject.”

Back to looking through the binoculars, Batman’s voice was quiet.
“Superman asked the same question.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Batman had his back to him. “No comment.”

John took a deep breath. “You’re an aggravating bastard.”

“You always say the nicest things, Lantern.”

“I give up.”

“So soon?” The sarcasm was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife
and made a sandwich.

Rubbing the back of his neck, John stared down at the museum, marble
steps gleaming in the moonlight. Silence fell on the rooftop, broken
only by occasional motorcycle roars and train whistles in the distance.

Why the hell was he even bothering with this? Trying to have a
conversation with Batman made pulling teeth sound like a party game.

Some kind of industrial plant puffed occasional smoke in the distance
and John considered how dangerous boredom really was. He made a mental
note to not get bored again. Unfortunately, now that he’d begun this, he
felt the need to finish it.

“Batman…” He paused, running through various options in his mind.
“Don’t give up on the League. You told me trust could be earned over
time–tell me how we do that. You’ve never trusted us, and seeing the
Lords’ universe has made you distrust us even more.”

Batman hunched further over the binoculars. “Perhaps…” He paused, and
John held his breath. “I don’t trust myself.”

John leaned against the brick to consider this revelation in the silence
that it deserved. I guess, he thought, each of us has been thinking
about our own counterparts and not everybody else’s. So, what about that
other Batman? Well, he’d certainly been a genius of the same caliber.
Obviously he’d developed the technology that had allowed the Lords to
travel into their alternate universe. And the prisons that had held them
until Flash tricked the other Batman.

Damn it. He just didn’t know enough about Batman–who he was when he
took the cape off–to work through this. Time to take a giant and
dangerous leap.

“If you don’t trust yourself, maybe you better get out of the superhero
business.”

For a long moment, Batman didn’t move at all and John couldn’t decide if
that was better or worse than the man trying to kill him.

“We are *not* discussing this.” The words sounded like they were forced
through clenched teeth.

“Why not?”

“If I wanted a therapist, I’d have found one on my own.”

John stifled a grin at the image of a scowling Batman lying on a couch
in some psychiatrist’s office. “Who can you talk to other than another
member of the cape and tights crowd?”

“I have no desire to talk about it with anyone. Can we concentrate on
what’s important?”

“This *is* important. We can’t go around second-guessing every move we
make.”

Batman put down the binoculars, but didn’t turn. “We have to. Or we’re
going to find we’ve crossed that line without ever knowing it.”

“You just don’t get it. That’s part of the team thing. We watch each
other’s backs and we keep ourselves honest. Just like you and Superman
did to defeat the Lords.”

“We set Luthor free.”

“But we’re gonna stay on this side of that line. Even if it kills us. I
think the Lords forgot why we do this: to protect people. They lost
track of their humanity.”

In the dark it was hard to see, but it looked like Batman was shaking
his head. “In case *you’ve* lost track, three of us aren’t even human.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“They forgot security without freedom is worthless.”

“And how will you feel when Flash dies?”

“We don’t know it’s inevitable.”

“You’re the one,” Batman said, “who said ‘even if it kills us.’”

John glared at him. The man was really infuriating. Batman lifted his
binoculars and John sighed at his back. “All we can do is try. But you
have to trust in the team.”

“Ah,” Batman said. It was barely even a word, more a long breath, but it
caught John’s attention. His head snapped to the side and he saw the
edge of a coat swoop around the corner below them.

It took only an instant for him to snag both of them in a force bubble
and speed downward toward the museum as Batman signaled the rest of the
League. The opening of the bubble and Batman launching himself toward
the building were simultaneous; John wondered what Batman would say if
he pointed out later that it was a result of them training together.

As he came through the door just slightly ahead of his teammate, John
was already putting up a shield, arcing it over their heads, certain
that these guys would be prepared for their arrival. Batman, batarang in
hand, scanned the room as a small black object hit the shield.

Batman cursed under his breath and snapped a mask over his face as the
object began to hiss and emit some kind of gas. John threw up a quick
and impermeable bubble around his body, pushing through the cloud.

A quick glance at each other and Batman began to circle to the left,
while John went right. Teamwork. He nodded happily.

The shadowy shapes of exhibit displays were tall and menacing, in a
strangely familiar kind of way. How many times had they done this, in
how many museums and factories and warehouses?

Wait, there, just behind that reconstructed temple, a flash of something
that didn’t belong. Where the hell were these guys? They’d thrown a
smoke bomb and just vanished. It was especially annoying trying to find
them in here, since the exhibit was filled with statuary, particularly
that of human figures of various shapes and sizes.

Batman, he knew, would be lurking along the edge of that far wall,
weapons ready, so John edged his way around a gigantic winged bull,
leaning his head out far enough to see deeper into the museum. The power
of the ring was like another heartbeat, speeding up in anticipation.
Soon, he thought at it. We’ll get all the action we could want soon.

There it was again. Someone or several someones were on the move, but
they were fairly stealthy. The object they were likely looking for
wasn’t far now, so it was time to stop them. With unknown powers in
play, there was no sense in letting them get their hands on the thing.

Hopefully Batman would follow his lead. John stepped into the open and
used his best drill sergeant voice (augmented by just a bit of power):
“Stop right there!”

His only answer was a bolt of red light aimed at his head, and John
ducked and ran forward, throwing up another shield in front of him–his
mind automatically forming something like the rectangular shields of the
statues around him.

He couldn’t see anything to his side, but trusted that Batman was pacing
him. “Give up now!” John shouted, making as much noise as he could.
Giving the ring just a bit of a push, he created a green searchlight,
sweeping the room in front of him for any sign of the people he pursued.

Bolts of light hit his shield and he absorbed the energy, grit his teeth
harder, and pushed on. As long as they were shooting, he knew where they
were. And every shot that hit his shield was one that wasn’t shattering
priceless statues…or Batman.

Looked like they were five of them, if he was reading the situation
correctly.

John dodged right, pushing a tendril of power out to smash the closest
villain, a dog-headed humanoid. He turned his dodge into a roll, getting
behind the sturdiest wall he could find, taking out the next villain
(ape-like) with a well-placed shot to the chest.

A third villain collapsed to the ground, tentacles wrapped in Batman’s
bolo. The fourth snarled through fangs as he turned to find the new
attacker, but was taken out by a batarang to the chest.

The fifth, all three eyes wide with fear, dropped his gun and held up
his hands. Batman stepped out of the shadows as John wrapped the
three-eyed one in a web of green light.

“Whoa, you can have it if you want it that badly,” the villain stuttered.

John growled. “We’re not here to take it. We’re here to protect it from
you.”

His eyes widening an improbable amount more, the creature stared. “Do
you know what this can do?”

“We don’t care,” Batman said, scanning the room.

“It’s pure power. Don’t you want power?”

“No. I want justice.” Batman turned, a batarang snapping into his hand
almost magically. He threw it and somewhere in the shadows something
went thud.

John nodded at Batman. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

Distant sirens were overwhelmed by the sounds of their backup
approaching. Superman and Hawkgirl swooped through the open front door,
looking relieved to see their teammates standing unharmed.

“The police are on the way,” Superman said. “Why don’t we take these
outside?”

“Be my guest,” Batman said. He stalked toward the wall, bringing back
the last member of the gang–who was just starting to come around–and
dumping him on the ground.

Superman and Hawkgirl each scooped up two of the villains and flew out,
John grabbing the other two with a green claw. He was about to follow
his teammates when Batman called him.

“Lantern?”

“Yes?” He turned, startled.

“I don’t know that I like you, but I trust you all. With my life. And I
haven’t given up on the League.” With a swirl of his cape, he was out
the door–gone by the time John made it outside with his captives.

John grinned. You couldn’t predict the man, could you? Well, it sure
kept life interesting.pected.”

The Secret Thoughts of a Bat

CONTINUITY: Takes place after “Secret Society.” Spoilers for “Secret
Society,” “Hereafter” and especially “A Better World.” Includes some quotes from the latter episode.

NOTES: So, I started pondering what Batman might have been thinking
during my fic “The Secret Thoughts of a Man.” It might also help to have
read my earlier story “Secrets, Societies, and Truths.” Thanks again to
Wyzeguy for the beta

* * * * *

Between the winter air that made breathing painful and Green Lantern’s
incessant fidgeting, Batman was finding it unusually difficult to
concentrate on the mission. He seriously considered pulling out a
tranquilizer dart and shooting his teammate–surely this mission didn’t
need both of them.

Batman closed his eyes for a moment and wished for Nightwing or Robin,
both of whom he’d trained into stillness. Then he wished for a stakeout
someplace a bit warmer, someplace that wasn’t in the middle of the
coldest winter since 1896. It shouldn’t have felt this cold, but the
wind chill was reaching through even the best insulation he had, finding
every gap, every edge.

His sigh–as ever–unvoiced, he continued to peer through his
binoculars, waiting for the new gang he’d been tracking to make their move.

Instinct said tonight was the night and this museum was the place. They
couldn’t resist what was on display, not with everything he’d read about
it. And he’d read everything.

The brand new exhibit of Mesopotamian artifacts from the eighth century
contained quite a few irreplaceable things, including a 16-foot-tall
guardian figure (an Assyrian winged bull, to be specific) and a
collection of rare lapis cylinder seals. There was also one piece that
very few people could identify properly, a bronze staff covered in very
un-Mesopotamian designs. Several curators had described strange events
that seemed to occur when the object was in residence. Not all that
surprising when you factored in what the occult community had had to say
about it.

An odd but familiar sound–a kind of quiet…whoosh–behind him made
Batman freeze. He looked over his shoulder at Lantern, who was frowning
mightily as he changed the colors of his uniform.

How extraordinarily odd, Batman thought.

Lantern looked up and saw him watching, then shifted his uniform back to
its normal configuration, his expression a bit embarrassed. He seemed
about to say something in explanation, but Batman turned back to his
binoculars with another internal sigh. The man was spending too much
time with Flash, obviously. Either that or he’d utterly lost his mind.
He’d better keep an eye on him, just in case. You could never be too
rich or too paranoid, after all.

Now, if the other man could just keep still for a little while, he could
finish planning for a new–

“You don’t like me, do you?” Lantern asked.

Batman turned slowly, certain now that Lantern had lost his mind. What
was he supposed to say in response to *that*? He finally decided nothing
was the only possible answer to such an absurd question, and turned back
to the binoculars. It was unlikely his face would reveal anything, but
best to be certain.

“I don’t really care if you like me or not,” Lantern went on, “but it
gets in the way of getting things done.”

What was that? Batman couldn’t help turning to look again, but pursed
his lips together to make certain he didn’t respond. Whatever game
Lantern was playing, he was on his own.

“What?” Lantern asked, trying (and failing) to look innocent. Definitely
too much time with Flash.

“You want to talk *now*?” Batman growled. What did the man think he was
doing? Maybe this was some subtle plot to drive *him* insane. If so, it
was working admirably.

“You got a better idea? We may be here a while. And we don’t even know
if they’re gonna attack this location or one of the others.”

“I know how they think. They’ll be here.”

Batman went back to his lookout for villains, resolute. Unfortunately,
the street was emptier than the Gotham town square just after the Joker
had arrived–which didn’t provide much in the way of distraction.

That left his mind enough time to wander. Time to think about Lantern’s
comments. Did he *like* him? Who the hell knew? Between life as Batman,
protecting Gotham and the rest of the planet, and trying to keep up his
identity as Bruce Wayne, he didn’t have a lot of time to think about his
teammates. A traitorous portion of his mind provided a visceral reminder
of his dance with Wonder Woman, but he banished it with practiced ease.

Certainly he respected the abilities of his colleagues in the Justice
League, and he had learned a great deal from them–Superman’s “death”
had reminded him of that. But with the fate of the world at stake on a
regular basis, it didn’t seem constructive to discuss this fact.

There had been that moment of weakness when he doubted his own knowledge
that Superman was alive, but he was only human. That didn’t mean the
Justice League should be turned into a touchy feely encounter session.

Tensing at a blur a block away, Batman relaxed when it turned out to be
a stray dog sniffing at a cafeteria dumpster. He let out a small puff of
air that immediately condensed on his cowl’s lenses. Forcibly
restraining himself from growling, Batman reminded himself that physical
discomfort was supposed to be irrelevant, even if the cold was making
his bones ache. He made a mental note to upgrade the insulation on
several of his costumes.

He continued to scan the surrounding area, looking for any signs of
mischief. Or even signs of life. The business district wasn’t precisely
a destination spot for late night revelers; the streets were quiet, no
music from clubs, no drunk partygoers, no pedestrians…

A thought occurred to Batman: Had Lantern been talking to Superman about
him? After Grodd’s little mind game, Superman was the one who cornered
him in the control room, insisting the League were his friends whether
he liked it or not.

Damn, but the man knew how to get under his skin. Friends? Who’d asked
for friends? All he wanted was a team that knew what they were doing and
could take care of themselves in a battle.

That was all he needed. Why was he even thinking about this?

Apparently Lantern could get under his skin as well, and that was
irritating. Friends were nothing but trouble. Friends could be used
against you as leverage. Friends could get hurt or killed.

“Maybe we *should* talk,” Lantern said, his voice nearly startling
Batman into a wince.

Batman spent a long moment staring past his binoculars, debating. “About
what?” he finally asked, hoping for some innocuous topic he could quash.

“Teamwork, maybe.”

Batman hunched his shoulders. Not *that* again. Damn it, he’d been
training just like the man wanted. Wasting precious time running those
idiotic drills, when he could have been busting heads in Gotham. He
wasn’t even a full member of the League!

Behind him, he heard a scraping sound, probably Lantern fidgeting again.
“Our teamwork could be better,” Lantern said.

“Well, I think we could be more efficient, but we’ve seen where that
leads,” Batman growled, realizing too late that Lantern would follow the
thought–the man wasn’t stupid, after all.

Lantern snorted and shot back. “Sharing information and better
coordination isn’t going to make us the Justice Lords.”

The voice of that other Batman: ‘The problem with democracy is, it
doesn’t keep you very safe.’ “Are you certain?” Batman asked Lantern.

“Yes,” Lantern said, his voice deep and assured.

He was so damned naive, Batman thought, still so certain of his own
righteousness, even after what they’d seen. Batman didn’t bother to answer.

Lantern’s earnest voice again. “I didn’t like what I saw when I looked
at them either. But we have a chance to be different.”

“Hmm.” The noise was nearly yanked out of him by his annoyance and he
heard Lantern shift behind him.

“We tried splitting up after Grodd hit us. And it didn’t work. As the
Justice League we have the chance to do greater good, save more lives,
react faster to threats.”

“And the chance to do greater evil,” Batman said. In his mind, the other
Batman’s voice goaded him: ‘You can’t be subtle, you’ve got to step into
the sunlight, take over.’

“Then why the hell are you still part of the League?” Lantern asked.

Why did everyone keep asking him that? What business was it of theirs as
long as he got the job done? He deflected the question, turning around
to smirk. “You said ‘hell.’ Goodness.”

“I was a Marine. I can say ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ too, but don’t change the
subject.”

Lantern’s arms were crossed and his demeanor had gone from curious to
pissed. Of course, Batman thought, there was no way he was going to
answer him. “Superman asked the same question.” And if he hadn’t
answered the big guy, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell some military
man with a magic ring.

“And what did you tell him?” Lantern’s eyes glowed that annoyingly alien
green.

Batman leaned against the brick wall, concentrating on the feel of it
through his uniform. “No comment.”

Behind him, Lantern took a deep breath. “You’re an aggravating bastard.”

“You always say the nicest things, Lantern.”

“I give up.”

“So soon?” Finally, he’d get some peace. Batman relaxed as silence fell
and he was able to regain his focus, banish the images of that other
universe. Within moments, every sound was being categorized and filed
away, every movement evaluated for possible threats. Nightwing would
call it zen, this ability to take in everything at once, assess it
automatically. Batman called it his job.

Usually Lantern was a good partner for these tasks. Usually he had the
same kind of single-minded focus. Impossible to tell exactly what was
going on in the man’s mind that made tonight different, but it was
unfortunate.

Unfortunate because he’d somehow transferred whatever it was to Batman,
who found his mind drifting again.

A puff of smoke from a distant factory reminded Batman of Gotham. The
other Gotham and how clean it had been. He wanted that Gotham, wanted it

so badly he could taste it in every decision he made.

In his memory, the other Batman spoke again, his voice harsher, harder,
hungrier. ‘I just chose peace and security instead.’

Peering over the edge in a cave just like his own, adrenaline pounding
in his ears: ‘You grabbed power!’

‘And with that power, we’ve made a world where no 8-year-old boy will
*ever* lose his parents because of some punk with a gun.’

And with that, just that, he’d given in. None of the others had turned,
but he’d been inches away from betraying his team, his world,
everything. Of course, he’d come to his senses but the simple fact that
he’d faltered–

“Batman…” Lantern interrupted his thoughts, then paused. “Don’t give
up on the League. You told me trust could be earned over time–tell me
how we do that. You’ve never trusted us, and seeing the Lords’ universe
has made you distrust us even more.”

Batman hunched further over the binoculars. “Perhaps…” The words
clogged his throat like thick bile. “I don’t trust myself.”

What had possessed him to say that? Fuck. Fuck.

“If you don’t trust yourself, maybe you better get out of the superhero
business.”

His hands tightened on the binoculars, muscles tensing as if for a
fight. To hear his own deepest worry echoed in that way…He managed to
grind out a coherent sentence. “We are *not* discussing this.”

“Why not?” Lantern sounded entirely reasonable.

“If I wanted a therapist, I’d have found one on my own.” When hell froze
over, pigs flew, and Flash became a diplomat, he didn’t say.

“Who can you talk to other than another member of the cape and tights
crowd?”

“I have no desire to talk about it with anyone,” Batman growled. “Can we
concentrate on what’s important?”

“This *is* important. We can’t go around second-guessing every move we
make.”

Batman put down the binoculars, but didn’t turn. How could the man be so
blind? So trusting? “We have to. Or we’re going to find we’ve crossed
that line without ever knowing it.”

“You just don’t get it. That’s part of the team thing. We watch each
other’s backs and we keep ourselves honest. Just like you and Superman
did to defeat the Lords.”

Eyes widening behind the mask, Batman turned. “We set Luthor free.” He’d
thought they understood the consequences of that decision.

“But we’re gonna stay on this side of that line. Even if it kills us. I
think the Lords forgot why we do this: to protect people. They lost
track of their humanity.”

Batman shook his head, astounded. “In case *you’ve* lost track, three of
us aren’t even human.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“They forgot security without freedom is worthless.”

Angry at the platitude, Batman struck out. “And how will you feel when
Flash dies?”

“We don’t know it’s inevitable.”

It had been a palpable hit, though, making Lantern pause before
answering. “You’re the one,” Batman said, moving in for the victory,
“who said ‘even if it kills us.’”

Lantern didn’t answer, just glared at him, eyes glowing and the ring
pulsing on his finger. Batman held his gaze long enough to be certain
his point was made, then turned around, lifting his binoculars.

“All we can do is try,” Lantern said. “But you have to trust in the team.”

Trust in the team? He flashed back to another mission, shouting at
Etrigan that he trusted J’onn with his life. In the end, J’onn had
justified his faith, but how could–

Wait, over there. That flash. They’d gotten into the building already!

“Ah.” Batman breathed out the word, but it was enough. In an instant,
Lantern snatched him up with a ring construct and the two of them
hurtled toward the museum *almost* as fast as if he’d jumped himself. He
subdued the irritation, reminding himself it was better tactics to enter
together.

Lantern opened his ring-generated bubble and Batman jumped down, already
scanning for the enemy as Lantern went through the door an instant
before him.

A green shield slammed over their heads just in time to deflect a
cylinder hurled at them. Cursing, Batman had his gas mask on even before
he’d consciously recognized the threat, his other hand wielding a
batarang that just needed a target.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the green glow around Lantern
that meant he was protecting himself from the gas. They looked at each
other and Batman knew what they needed to do. He slid to the left side
of the museum, hiding himself in the shadows while Lantern played
target. It was a tactic they’d used successfully a number of times.

As he blended into the darkness, searching for any sign of their
opponents, Batman spared a moment to grudgingly admit that some of their
training together had actually been useful. Not that he’d admit it to
Lantern, of course. The man was too smug as it was.

The room was perfect for an ambush, which had all of Batman’s senses on
alert. The high ceilings with odd rafters and hanging panels, the
randomly placed statues, pillars, doorways, everything in this main
entryway was a possible threat. He slid the gas mask back into its place
on his utility belt.

In the back corner, there was definite movement, but it was too far away
for Batman to be certain what he saw. And he was in exactly the wrong
place, damn it. Lantern should be almost directly opposite him, and if
he’d seen that movement, he should be making his way…Yes, there he
was, behind the winged bull statue.

Automatically, Batman picked several possible routes across the room,
depending on where their opponents were, how many there were, and how
they attacked. He continued his slow stalk against the wall, trying to
get far enough back that he’d have a clear shot when Lantern made his move.

Which he could do any day now. Really.

At that moment, Lantern stepped out from behind the bull, a green
glowing ‘shoot me now’ target. “Stop right there!” he yelled.

Batman dove behind an animal motif stele, taking route number four
toward the back corner of the room. Laser beams whined through the air,
and Batman winced at the damage they would probably cause, making a
mental note to get the museum a grant from the Wayne Foundation.

“Give up now!” Lantern yelled, and Batman used the cover of the noise to
get closer.

A green light shot out from Lantern’s ring, illuminating the intruders,
and Batman took his shot. The tentacled creature who was nearest
definitely called for a bolo, and the weighted ropes took him down as
Lantern knocked out two others with the ring. The batarang finally found
a target in something that looked like a dog.

Four down, one dropping its gun and looking terrified. As well he/she/it
should. Lantern had him with the ring, so Batman stepped out from
concealment, the glare that had terrified a thousand villains firmly in
place.

“Whoa, you can have it if you want it that badly,” the three-eyed
creature said, shrinking back.

“We’re not here to take it,” Lantern said, sounding disgusted. “We’re
here to protect it from you.”

“Do you know what this can do?”

“We don’t care,” Batman said, turning to scan the room. Something was
wrong, something was off.

“It’s pure power. Don’t you want power?”

“No. I want justice,” Batman said. There! Almost faster than thought, he
threw a batarang at the shape he saw in the shadows. The shape fell over
with a deeply satisfying thud.

“Nice,” Lantern said with a nod.

“Thanks.”

Superman and Hawkgirl flew through the door at that moment, ready to
join the battle; when they found they were too late, Hawkgirl looked
disappointed and Superman relieved. With the arrival of backup, Batman
felt the wrench of adrenaline wearing off and he suppressed a shiver as
his body reminded him of the cold air pouring in through the building’s
open doors.

“The police are on the way,” Superman said, looking pleased at the
uneventful end to the mission. “Why don’t we take these outside?”

“Be my guest,” Batman said. He went to retrieve the last creature he’d
knocked out, dumping him roughly with the others and moving his hands
underneath his cape to hide their shaking. This was always the worst
part–keyed up for all those hours of waiting, bursting into action and
then…stopping.

Superman and Hawkgirl each scooped up two of the villains and flew out,
Lantern grabbing the other two with a green claw. Damn it, Batman
thought, he couldn’t…he shouldn’t…

“Lantern?” Batman heard himself call, cursing the weakness that wouldn’t
let him leave without doing this.

“Yes?” He turned, startled.

“I don’t know that I like you, but I trust you all. With my life. And I
haven’t given up on the League.”

He stalked out before the other man could respond. It wasn’t a
conversation he wanted to have, but Lantern deserved to know at least
that much. He didn’t want to be saying it to Lantern’s grave someday
with a stomach full of regrets.

It was easy enough to slip past the chaos outside, police cars squealing
to a stop, photographers blinding everyone with flashes, as Lantern,
Hawkgirl, and Superman handed off their prisoners. Nobody noticed a
shadow slip around the corner, and Batman took advantage of that to make
his way to the Batmobile.

‘What are you hiding for?’ his other self sneered in his memory.

‘I do my best work in the dark.’

‘I used to think that, too. But what have you ever accomplished from
there, aside from scaring a few punks half to death and putting a few
more in jail?’

Batman paused, leaning one hand on the hood of the Batmobile, anchoring
himself to that familiar and solid surface. “It all adds up,” he
whispered. “And I can live with myself the next day.”

by Mara

Summary: A series of vignettes dealing with the aftermath of Season 2′s “Secret Society.”

NOTES: As usual, it’s Medie’s fault. Isn’t it always? But she asked so
evilly…I mean, nicely. I’ve been reading the JLA comics recently, so pardon me
if I accidentally mix comic and cartoon canon.

Batman and Green Lantern:

As far as John could tell, Batman never trusted anything or anyone, so it was
hard to tell if Grodd had even been working on him. If he was entirely honest
with himself, that was part of what drove him insane about Batman. One of many
things, really, but this was neither the time nor the place.

“Part of teamwork is trust,” he said, cornering Batman in the control room. “For
instance, trusting me that training as a team is necessary and useful.”

What he could see of Batman’s face didn’t change at all. “Leaving aside the
circular logic…trust must be earned.”

“How?”

“Time.” He turned back to the computer.

John stared at the pointed ears of the costume, grasping for the right words.
“What if we don’t *have* time?”

“Then we fall.”

* * * * *

Martian Manhunter and Superman:

Superman was just flying–no emergency, no damsels or universes in distress,
just the wind whipping past him, as refreshing as a shower. He felt J’onn’s
presence before he saw him, the telltale tickle in the back of his mind that was
a telepath’s greeting. The Martian drifted beside him, not quite tangible.

“I wish to apologize,” J’onn said.

“Didn’t we do that already?”

“Perhaps, but I believe my statements may have specifically hurt you.”

Banking left, Superman headed for his favorite view of the Grand Canyon, light
at just the right oblique angle to make every single fold of rock glow with
warmth and color.

“I am sorry,” J’onn said.

“Hmm.” He slowed down to enjoy the view.

“I am sorry that, in my pain, I forgot I was not the only one to suffer loss.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it is not. That is how Grodd was able to divide the League, because we do
not deal with our fears and anxieties.”

Superman tilted his head to examine the green figure flying beside him. “If
you’re suggesting that the Justice League needs to be in therapy, I dare you to
find someone to take us on.”

“I am suggesting that being superhuman, metahuman, or alien does not exempt us
from psychological ills. We have feelings.”

“‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’ Except that some of us don’t. And some do.”
Superman settled onto a peak in the center of the canyon. “I’m not sure I’ve
changed my mind about what I said. I’m invulnerable. Other members of the team
are not. Maybe I really *would* do better on my own.”

“It is unusual to see Superman afraid.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but realized the futility of arguing with a
telepath over what he was thinking. “Yes, afraid of watching someone get hurt.”

“And what if the rest of us take this chance willingly, even eagerly? You do us
an injustice.”

Superman stared across the canyon, automatically noting the children running
along the north rim, making sure their parents were watching them. The sun
inched a bit lower in the sky and J’onn floated, apparently content to wait.

“I feel selfish,” Superman said.

“In what way?”

“I’m afraid that I stay in the League so that I’m not alone. I don’t want to
endanger anyone because I’m lonely.”

“Have you considered that we might feel the same way? None of us walks an easy
path, but perhaps we can walk it together.” J’onn looked at him for a long
moment, then flew away into the setting sun.

A stray wind blew up a dust cloud, then died, leaving Superman blinking away the
dirt in his eyes.

* * * * *

Wonder Woman and Flash:

Diana thanked the goddess that Flash didn’t number super-hearing among his
skills, because then he might have heard the five previous times she started to
approach him.

This time, she’d gathered her–not courage, she never lacked that–pride, and
knocked on his door.

“Come in.” The room was cleaner than she’d thought it would be, another reminder
not to make assumptions. Flash looked up, then jumped out of the faded chair.
“Whoa! Hi. Welcome. Did you need something?”

“I…” She was lost in this world so different than her home. “May I sit down?”

“Sure!” Before she could blink, he’d retrieved a padded folding chair from
behind the door and put it next to her. “I don’t have guests here often.”

She sat carefully on the chair, still groping for the words. “I wanted to speak
with you. It seems to me that the lesson we learned from Grodd is that we don’t
truly know each other. I thought it was time to change that.”

Flash sat down, jaw open a bit. “Right. I think that’s a very nice idea.”

They stared at each other for a moment. “What do you think we should talk
about?”

“I dunno. Read any good books lately?”

* * * * *

Green Lantern and Hawkgirl:

It took a long while to find her–without the Justice League’s resources and the
ability to fly, he never would have. Hawkgirl was perched on top of a building
in Metropolis, looking very much like her namesake. If hawks carried very large
weapons, of course.

Hawkgirl wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine at the best of times, but this
behavior was unusual. Her typical MO was to find whatever was bothering her and
hit it. Hard. Until it stopped being annoying.

On the other hand, since it was him that had annoyed her, perhaps he should be
glad she wasn’t taking that tack. Hawkgirl had a pretty good punch.

When he landed next to her, she tilted her head slightly. “There you are.”

“Did I miss an appointment?”

“I figured you’d come looking for me eventually.”

“I guess sometimes it’s nice to be predictable.”

She was silent and John sank down next to her, looking out over the city and the
crashing symphony of urban life. Sirens mixed with voices, overlying the
electrical buzz of streetlights and the low rumble of air conditioners and
idling car engines.

“This is all so different than my home,” she said. “I don’t understand all of
you sometimes. Most of the time. Except Diana, in a weird way, but don’t tell
her I said that.”

“You said that I didn’t care.” Even repeating it now, knowing that she’d been
under Grodd’s influence, it hurt.

“I don’t know why I said that.” She tapped her fingers on her mace, almost
absent-mindedly. “I was confused, hurt, irrational. I wish it was only Grodd,
but I’m afraid it wasn’t.”

“I understand. Really, I do. But the teamwork, you know it’s important.”

“Yes. It’s just that it was easier for me at home.”

“A few hours ago, Batman told me that trust takes time. I think it’s true for
understanding, too.”

“Maybe.” They sat together on the rooftop for a long time, watching the city
move below them, a mass of boisterous and cantankerous humanity.

* * * * *

Superman and Batman:

“Bruce, do you have a moment?” Clark stepped into the control room after
checking they were alone.

“Only if you’re not here to tell me that I need to be a team player.” He didn’t
even look up, just continued flipping the monitors through various views.

“Ah. No, I’m not. You should know me better than that.”

That got Bruce’s attention and he turned halfway in the chair, an image of a
fire in Borneo flaring dramatically behind him. “Who? Clark Kent, farmboy, or
Superman, the world’s greatest superhero? Or maybe Kal-El, last scion of a dead
race?”

“I’m not going to argue secret identities with *you*. But whoever you think I am
at the moment, I thought we were friends.”

A cold stare through the mask. “Perhaps.”

Clark sighed, recognizing his friend’s prodigious talent for distracting and
annoying someone when he didn’t want to talk to them. Removing his cape, he
folded it and placed it on the edge of the console, sitting down next to Bruce.
Or Batman, as the case may be.

“Why do you stay with the League?” he finally asked Bruce, earning himself a
sidelong glance.

“I’m not much for introspection.”

“But brooding is okay?”

“Brooding is entirely different. Can’t you tell?”

“It’s difficult for the outside observer to see the subtle differences,
actually.”

Bruce turned in his seat. “Sarcasm ill becomes you.”

“Don’t want me taking your place, hmm?”

“What do you want, Clark?”

“I want to know why you joined the League and why you stay.” Clark crossed his
arms and refused to be intimidated by the glare that turned criminals and
supervillains to jelly.

Bruce sighed. “I know that recent events have caused everyone to encroach on my
brooding territory, but I’m not going to answer your question.”

“Fine. Don’t answer. But don’t leave, either.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to lecture me about teamwork.”

“I’m not. I’m talking about friendship.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Everything, Bruce, everything.” Clark got up to leave, picking up his cape.
“For what it’s worth, we’re your friends whether you want us or not.”

Walking toward the door, Clark could hear Bruce swivel in his chair. The
confusion with a hint of alarm was practically audible, especially to *his*
hearing. He grinned, resisting the urge to whistle a happy tune.

* * * * *

Wonder Woman and Flash:

“…and that was when my mother declared me the winner,” Diana said.

Flash’s eyes were huge behind the mask. “Wow. You really…sharks? Ow, that’s
gotta hurt.”

She smiled gently. “A little bit.”

“And that’s what brought you here.”

“Yes.”

Flash grinned. “Cool.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: The members of the Justice League reminisce about childhood

NOTES: No plot here, just a little character piece that occurred to me on the
plane back from New Orleans. The title is from the Ogden Nash poem “We’ll All
Feel Better By Wednesday.” Gigantic thanks to BrenK for the beta, and thanks to
the many folks on my LiveJournal friends list who answered my rather bizarre
question Now do you see why I wanted to know?

Batman wasn’t certain how the topic of vacations came up, although it probably
stemmed from the ass-kicking the Justice League had nearly received. And knowing
Flash, he’d probably started it.

When he tuned back into the conversation behind him in the Javelin, Flash was
describing summer evenings from his childhood.

“Ice cream tastes better after you’ve been swimming,” he said with entirely too
much energy for someone sprawled on the floor with what Batman suspected was at
least one cracked rib. “We’d dog-paddle and dive until we were shivering and
blue, eat melting ice cream, then go to somebody’s house. It seemed like there
were always hot dogs fresh off the grill or peanut butter and banana
sandwiches.”

Superman chuckled. “That sounds a lot like Smallville. Ma and Pa must have fed
half the local kids some nights. There was a time when I knew every inch of the
fields where we played tag and hide and seek.” Batman glanced sideways at the
man beside him, who had a nostalgic smile on his open face as he added, “I
remember coming back covered in dust, with corn silk down my back.”

“Hide and seek?” Hawkgirl asked. “I think we used to play a similar game on
Thanagar. Did yours involve projectile weapons or lasers?”

Batman hid a grin as Superman choked, turning his reaction into a polite cough.
“Ah, neither one, actually.”

Batman finished the course adjustments he’d been making and spun in his seat in
time to see Hawkgirl’s deep frown. “Then how did you know who the winner was?”
she asked.

“Well, we just kept track of who found the most people.” Superman exchanged a
meaningful look with Green Lantern, who leapt in nobly to save his teammate.

“Vacations in the city are something different,” he said. “We didn’t have a
swimming pool or fields, but we had the run of the city. Even in my end of town,
in those days it was safe for kids to stay out at night.”

“What did you do?” Hawkgirl asked.

“We usually played baseball and basketball in the vacant lot, as long as one of
the kids with a ball showed up.” He leaned back in his seat, grinning. “We
followed rules of a sort, but mainly it was an excuse to run around a lot and
get sweaty. Then, when we were hot and tired, we’d go see if the police had
opened a fire hydrant somewhere.”

Wonder Woman turned from the window, brow furrowing. “What’s that?”

Lantern blinked. “A hydrant? Remember last month when Luthor caused a fire to
distract you and I ripped that metal plug out of the ground to get water to
douse it? That was a hydrant.”

Her perfect brow smoothed out. “Ah yes, I remember.”

The Justice League was an…interesting group, Batman thought.

“What did *you* do on vacations?” Lantern asked Diana.

She shook her head, dark hair sweeping across ivory shoulders. “We didn’t have
vacations in the way that you seem to, especially not for princesses.”

Flash lifted his head off the floor. “You must have done *something* to relax.”

“There were always the wrestling matches, which I often won.” She allowed
herself a tiny smile. “And, of course, the armed and unarmed fighting
practices.”

Hawkgirl perked up at that, her sharp profile turning to look at the other
woman. “What kind of weapons?”

Batman smirked as the two women began a fairly technical conversation about the
practical limits of the quarterstaff and throwing knives. He considered
mentioning a few of his own experiments, but decided against it.

Lantern sighed and Flash covered his face with his hands, so Superman turned to
J’onn. “What about you? What did you do?”

Expressionless, J’onn looked at him and for an instant, everyone held their
breath, even Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman pausing in their conversation–but
Superman was the only one who could ask such a question and get away with it.
Something about the eternal boyish aspect of the man made you unwilling to point
out behavior that in anyone else would be rude or tactless.

“Like Diana, we did not vacation, precisely. But there were days…” J’onn
paused, his eyes very far away. Batman’s stomach churned. Turning away, he
busied himself with preparing a report for their files about the past week’s
mission.

“There was a game my father and I used to play. I suppose it was most like your
hide and seek, but it is a very different game for a telepath. My son, in turn,
became very good at it.” The more he spoke, the more warmth came into J’onn’s
usual monotone. It wasn’t that he sounded more human–if anything, he sounded
more alien–but his voice took on a lilt, a nuance that he was usually at great
pains to hide.

Everyone on the plane was silent, holding their breath; Batman leaned further
over the screen in front of him, fighting the desire to turn around and watch
J’onn. But to see such naked emotion was to risk losing control, and that was
out of the question.

“We also hunted for pangef in the hills, the scent always making it seem we had
reached our goal, but the pangef were always one step ahead. My mother would
join us, laughing, waiting for us to give up so she could lead us in the right
direction. The light seemed to shine brighter on those days.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Batman saw Superman leaning forward, obviously
yearning to hug the Martian. Flash swallowed, the noise very loud.

“Thank you.” J’onn said after a moment. “I have not spoken of, or thought of,
those memories in a long time. They are good things to remember.”

“You’re welcome,” Superman said. There was an audible sigh from much of the rest
of the team and what sounded suspiciously like a sniff from Flash.

Batman frowned at the screen, which contained a very incoherent series of
sentences. That was why it took him so long to register what Superman said next.

“And what about you, Batman?”

The silence behind him sounded a great deal like superheroes searching furiously
for the nearest exit. Batman took two slow breaths, then turned to face
Superman, whose face nearly shone with pure innocence. Fingers itching to throw
a punch, Batman didn’t believe for an instant the question was innocent.

“Excuse me?” he asked softly.

“I was wondering what *you* did for vacations or relaxation as a child.”

What the hell was the man up to? “I never relaxed.”

“Oh, come on, that can’t be true.” Superman’s expression changed a bit, to
something like…pity? How insulting.

Days in the park with Alfred, forgetting to be unhappy for entire hours at a
time as he got grass stains on his clothes from running around. Model-building,
the joy of each part fitting precisely into place. The satisfaction of setting
up the Batcave and learning everything there was to know about computers and
physics and biology.

Everyone was looking at him. He could tell, even without seeing them, and it
made his jaw tense up.

He looked at Superman. “Well, there was one game we used to play.”

The silence was so complete he could practically hear tiny bits of matter
bouncing off the Javelin’s forcefield.

“What?” Superman finally asked.

“Go Fish.”

And Batman turned back to the console, filled with the satisfaction of a job
well done as he heard jaws drop.

Always keep ‘em guessing, that was his motto.

by Mara

Summary: Wonder Woman is not nearly the innocent some might believe. And even Batman can be surprised now and then.

NOTES: Taryn made me do it! She double dog dared me! And then DebC seconded it!
And something that Morgan said made me think…well, you’ll see. Um, this is
cartoonverse, but I stole one comic thing about Diana. This is *not* a sequel to
“Hesitation Change,” however, since these are *very* different versions of the
characters. Thanks to Stexgirl and WelshWitch for beta duties.
DEDICATION: Written for Taryn on her wedding day: 1/23/04. ::hugs::

Lying on his back, breathing unsteady, Bruce blinked up at Diana, who slid her
way up to kiss him. His entire body felt like it was humming against the sweaty
sheets and he studied her face, half-hidden in the dim light from the lamp
across the room.

“Where,” he managed to say between kisses, hands roaming across satiny skin,
“did you learn to do that?”

It was, of course, an entirely rhetorical question, but in his tattered state,
he’d forgotten Diana’s status as the living embodiment of truth.

“Well…” She had a wistful, nostalgic look on her face. “From my first lover.”

“Ah.” He frowned, not certain whether he should feel jealous. It was faintly
ridiculous, considering that she’d just thoroughly…ravished him, and was the
last person on or off Earth to cheat on someone. A vestige of Batman’s mindset,
he supposed.

Diana gently nipped at his shoulder, then kissed it before curling up against
his side. When he showed no signs of moving other than to pull her closer, she
laughed and tugged the blankets over them.

The humming gradually died down and Bruce felt his entire body relax. The warm
presence at his side was comforting, as was her wonderful hair where it brushed
against his chest like liquid silk. Only his mind kept moving, remembering the
look on her face when she mentioned her first lover.

She stirred, lifting her head. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why are you twitching?”

He turned his head, startled. “Twitching?”

“Yes, twitching. I know we have not been together long, but I feel certain that
this is not a sign of good things.” Her voice was soft and warm, far from the
competitive warrior she showed the rest of the world. It was a voice he’d
imagined was only for him, but now he found himself imagining some other man
holding her, some other man kissing her…

“Bruce?”

“What?”

“You’ve become very tense. What is *wrong*?” She leaned up on one elbow, using
the other hand to stroke down the center of his chest.

Breathing speeding up again, Bruce put his free hand over hers, stopping it.
“It’s…nothing.”

“Obviously not. I just went to a great deal of trouble to relax you, and I hate
to see my work go to waste.” She dipped her head down, hair cascading around his
face, and kissed him lightly on the lips. Her mouth was warm and wet and already
so familiar and dear.

He swallowed and she lifted her head, waiting. “Who was he?” Bruce finally
asked.

Eyes narrowed, she tilted her head. “Who?”

Now he felt like a real idiot. “Your first lover.”

There was a long moment where her face was entirely still, except for her eyes,
which had widened. With no warning, she started to laugh.

It was a full body laugh, everything shaking, and she lay back on the bed across
his outstretched arm. Affronted, he tried to pull his arm out from under her,
but she didn’t let it go, managing to roll over and laugh into his shoulder
instead.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” he said, glaring at her.

Her laughter slowed and she smiled at him. “I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s
just…”

“What?”

“You men.”

“It’s not–”

“I’m not worried about jealousy,” she said. “It’s just that men always assume
that their ‘competition’ is male.”

His jaw dropped.

She propped herself on her elbow again. “Yes, Bruce. You’ve forgotten where I
grew up. There are no men, remember?”

“But–”

“You thought I waited until I left the island? Weren’t you ever an adolescent,
Bruce?”

“Uh–”

Her voice got softer and the hand he’d stilled started moving up and down his
stomach. “Didn’t you ever touch yourself and dream of having someone else do the
same?” She leaned over and lightly kissed his nipple, which made him jump.
“Didn’t you look at your agemates and hope that one would look at you the same
way?” Her breath ghosted across the nipple and he gasped, a shock running
through him.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” His voice seemed to be coming from far away. “It was
different.”

Diana rested her head on his chest. “Perhaps it was. You are rather unique. But
I did look. And there was one who looked back.”

Slow, even breaths brought his treacherous body back under control. “What was
her name?” Somehow his jealousy was gone, mutated into simple curiosity.

And Diana seemed to understand that, as only she could. She smiled gently, one
hand making aimless patterns on his chest. “Her name was Bellona.”

“Tell me about her.”

She studied him, then nodded slightly. “Her hair was the purest gold and she
lived up to her name–truly a great warrior. In fact, she was my greatest
competitor from the time I could walk.”

Bruce propped one hand behind his head so he could watch her face as she spoke.
In the yellow light, her skin glowed.

Diana’s eyes were very distant. “She was astounding and beautiful and so
intelligent.”

“Just like you.”

A gentle puff of breath across his chest and he shivered. “I wanted her,” Diana
said. “It seemed as if I had always wanted her. Then when we were 16, she kissed
me, and we found ourselves a secluded place on the island. That was when we
taught each other the ways of love.”

Bruce’s mind boggled at the image of Diana and a blonde, engaged in… “Oh.”

A low chuckle, and she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Men,” she said.

Bruce felt his face grow warm and he coughed. “I’m sorry, it…uh…just…”

“I understand.” The hand that had been rubbing his chest slid up and she began
to run a finger across his lips. He gently nibbled at the finger and she sighed.

Bruce drew himself up to kiss her on the mouth, enjoying the feel of her tongue,
the taste of her. He drew back a fraction. “I suppose I should be thankful for
Bellona, if she taught you so well. Although,” he paused, confused, “if she was
a she, I mean, she didn’t–”

“Male and female physiology are more alike than you might think.” She gave him
an angelic grin as she slid her hand down his body again.

Head dropping back onto the pillow, Bruce groaned.

Diana smiled the wicked smile that always made his insides melt. “Why don’t you
let me show you what she taught me to do with the lasso?”

His breath caught in his throat as she knelt above him, holding the golden
braid. “Oh yes,” he said. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Office romances are difficult enough, but when you’re dating Batman…

CONTINUITY: This takes place after “Starcrossed” but before “Initiation.” It
also takes place not long after my story “Hesitation Change.”

NOTES: This story is a response to Smitty’s long-ago “Billy Joel Title
Challenge.” This is a conversation I thought needed to happen in my own view of
the animated universe. To read the lyrics to the song that inspired this, check
out this lyrics site. Thanks to Redhawk for the beta

It wasn’t as if Diana was homeless after the destruction of the Watchtower. She
had an apartment on Earth, just like the other Leaguers, but somehow every
evening she found herself returning to Wayne Manor. Sometimes one of the others
was just leaving after a meeting with Batman, sometimes he was alone in the
Cave.

Eventually, she knew, the rest of the League would catch on and explanations
would be in order, but for now, they could count on the rebuilding of the
Watchtower and the Earth as a suitable distraction.

Alfred never turned a hair, that astonishing man. He would just take her coat if
she had one, and inform her of Master Bruce’s whereabouts and mental state.
Diana suspected he was accustomed to doing this for the others. Not the League,
but for the members of Batman’s Gotham family: Batgirl, Robin, Nightwing.
Alfred’s obvious acceptance of her made everything else easier to bear.

“Master Bruce is in the drawing room,” Alfred said as she entered the mansion
two weeks after the routing of the Thanagarians. “I believe there has been a
contretemps with Master Clark, and I would advise you to tread lightly.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” She strode down the hall, pausing in astonishment when she
realized she knew exactly where the drawing room was. In fact, she could locate
every room that might conceivably contain Bruce. This bore thinking about.

Shaking her head, she continued on. Bruce turned from his contemplation of the
recently repaired windows when she entered the room, his eyes automatically
getting Bruce Wayne’s appreciative glow at the entrance of a beautiful woman.

“I take it you were at a society function today,” she said.

Frowning, he turned back to the windows, looking out on the front lawn. “Yes, a
charity luncheon for the hospital. I’m sorry, you’re dressed like…one of
them.”

Diana glanced down at her simple black dress, and considered reminding him of
his insistence that all League visits be incognito. Instead, she went to stand
by his side and admire the sea of expertly-maintained lawn and oak trees.

“I know, Bruce. I understand,” she said. “Sometimes your ability to
compartmentalize concerns me.”

He ignored that.

“Have you had dinner yet?” she asked when he showed no signs of moving.

“Alfred brought me some sandwiches earlier,” he said.

“Was that lunch or dinner?” He obviously had no idea and she shook her head.
“I’ll tell Alfred you’re ready for dinner now.”

Her feet made no sound as she crossed the heavy Oriental rug that covered most
of the center of the room, so his voice seemed loud when he stopped her halfway.
“Perhaps you should go home.”

She stopped. “Pardon me?”

When she turned around, his face was set in the grim expression of Batman,
incongruous in the luxurious room full of yellowed books and Ming vases. “I said
you should go home this evening.”

This was not a conversation she wanted to shout across the room, so she sat on
one of the couches, the leather soft as silk against her arms and legs. “Am I no
longer welcome in the Justice League?” she asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His face turned even more grim.

“Then perhaps I am no longer welcome in Wayne Manor?”

Bruce hesitated, then sat on the love seat diagonally from her. “You are welcome
here.”

“Then I am no longer welcome in your bed.” She made the phrase as matter-of-fact
as she could.

The small twitch in his right hand was as good as a flinch in any other man.
“It’s not…I’ve just been reconsidering the advisability of our relationship.”

Diana sighed–she’d been expecting this and the only surprise was that it took
two weeks to reach this point. “What are your concerns?”

“I would think they were obvious.”

“Humor me.”

He was quite obviously suppressing a scowl. “It’s a bad idea for people in our
position to be involved. Just look at Lantern and Hawkgirl.”

“I don’t think the cases are parallel, unless you think my mother is planning to
invade Man’s World.”

“That’s not my point.”

“What *is* your point?”

His eyes narrowed and she marveled at how he drew around him a cape that was
still in its cabinet beneath the mansion. “I cannot allow…us to get in the way
of the mission. What we do is too important.”

Clasping her hands in her lap, Diana struggled for calm. She hadn’t needed
Alfred’s quiet advice several days before to realize that Batman (and Bruce)
would never yield before emotional appeals, but could be persuaded by logic. “In
what way has emotion stood in the way of duty?”

“I trusted Hawkgirl.” He held her gaze, one of the very few men she knew able to
consistently do so with no sign of unease. “I trusted her because of the team. I
trusted her because Lantern did. For that reason, I was slow to realize the
Thanagarians were deceiving us.”

“Slow? Without your work, we wouldn’t have realized until it was too late! There
was nothing you could have done earlier, without proof.”

“I disagree. My emotions,” he practically sneered the word, “interfered with
clear thinking.”

The setting sun cast one last beam of light into the room and Diana looked out
at the orange sky for a moment. “And I think you are, as always, too hard on
yourself.”

“Believe what you will, but I was insufficiently paranoid and the Earth was
nearly destroyed.”

She leaned forward. “Bruce, you’re not–”

“Superhuman? I’m well aware of that.” His jaw clenched.

“I was going to say ‘required to be perfect,’ but if you wish to put words in my
mouth, go right ahead.” The silence was nearly deafening and she waited for his
response.

He stood, pacing to the window. Watching him, Diana wondered how anyone could
ever mistake him for ordinary–he was a marvel of repressed energy. “I *am* only
human, Diana.”

“I’m not clear on why that’s a bad thing. You know that we would ask you to lead
the League if we thought you might accept.” She smiled, thinking of League
meetings here at Wayne Manor. “At the moment, you *do* lead us. Your status as a
non-powered being has no bearing on the matter.”

He turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “You realize, even Clark generally can’t
take me quite that far off-topic without my noticing immediately.”

“I didn’t think we *were* off-topic,” Diana said, crossing her legs and watching
his movements closely. “You are concerned because you believe you cannot be both
Batman and in a relationship. I think you vastly underestimate yourself. And
me.”

Bruce turned to stare out the window again, although she doubted he was
inspecting the scenery. The sun dipped even lower and she wondered whether to
turn on the lights, finally deciding she didn’t want to distract him from
whatever he was thinking.

As he thought, she watched him and remembered that first night in the
Watchtower, his low voice cracking as he admitted that she was dangerous to him,
that she made him act without thinking. Perhaps she’d underestimated how
terrifying this was to a man as controlled as Bruce. She’d believed that he’d
come to terms with it, but obviously that was not so.

Although, she acknowledged, looking at the stiff lines of his back, recent
events might have been designed specifically to strain their relationship. If
he’d been upset at her discovery of his identity, he’d been infuriated by the
necessity of revealing it to the remaining League members who didn’t know. That
it *was* necessary made little difference, she supposed.

And the betrayal of one they believed on their side was enough to make even the
least paranoid man uncomfortable.

“You don’t understand,” he said, drawing her attention back.

“What don’t I understand?”

“How to make the hard choices.”

His quiet voice held a surprising amount of venom and she fought her natural
instinct to respond in kind. “Is that so?”

A more cowardly man might have been worried by her toneless delivery, but not
Bruce. “During the invasion,” he said, “you endangered the mission by saving
that couple. If we’d been captured before we reached the Cave, we would very
likely have been defeated and the Earth destroyed.”

“I don’t have your ability to sacrifice the innocent in the short term,” she
said softly.

Bruce shook his head. “Could you let Flash die to save the world?” He paused,
watching her, and she waited. “Could you let *me* die? Do you understand that I
would let *you* die for the sake of the mission?”

“If I die, I die. But I believe that if it is possible, you will find a way to
save everyone.”

“I wish I had your faith.”

“You don’t need to. That’s why I’m here.” She raised her chin and considered
him. “Perhaps this would be an appropriate time to discuss the necessity of

sacrifice.”

He shook his head, just a touch of anger in a twitch of his lips. “Superman and
I have already had words, but I expected better of you than to second-guess my
decision on the Watchtower.”

Mimicking him, she raised her eyebrows. “Putting words in my mouth again?”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms, jaw tight. “Go ahead.”

“You truly believe I would chastise you for quick thinking that saved us all?
Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought.” Shaking her head, she waited
for light to dawn. His eyes widened slightly. “You made the right decision with
the limited time you had.”

“Then what…”

“You would have left me without a word.” Finally, she let her emotions show,
standing, nearly shaking with the force of her anger. “You think so little of me
that you did not give me the option to say goodbye. Or offer to take your
place.”

His jaw dropped, more of an emotional display than Diana had ever seen from him.
She pressed her advantage.

“You asked if I could let you die.” Stalking toward him, Diana enjoyed the
unusual sight of a completely speechless Bruce. “If it was necessary, then yes,
I could. But I demand an apology for your actions.”

He shifted not an inch as she approached him. “Apology?” came out low and
gravelly, much more Batman than Bruce.

“For not giving us a chance to come up with another plan. For not giving me a
chance to say goodbye.”

He stared at her.

“Hera,” Diana muttered. She hadn’t intended to lose her temper, but he was so
infuriating, so…

So stunned. As she glared at him, he swallowed convulsively. They were at
another impasse, she realized. The last time, Batman had yielded to Bruce, but
now Batman had to make a choice.

She was an Amazon. She would *not* beg.

“Diana, I…” Bruce paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Accepted.” She waited, willing her breathing to remain steady. If necessary,
she could stand here all night while Bruce and Batman fought it out.

His eyes were distant, considering factors she couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe
she shouldn’t have pushed him? No, if she’d acceded to his fears, that would
surely have been the end.

What would he do? Perhaps–

“Master Bruce?” called a voice from the doorway.

They both turned. “Yes, Alfred?” Bruce asked.

Alfred turned on the lights and Diana blinked. She hadn’t noticed it had grown
so dark. Alfred inspected them for a moment. “Will the lady be staying for
dinner?”

Bruce stared fixedly at Alfred, then turned slowly to look at her, expression
more unreadable than usual.

“Yes,” Bruce said after a long moment. “Yes, I believe she will.” Extending his
arm in a courtly gesture, he waited.

A smile spreading across her face, Diana tucked her arm in Bruce’s and allowed
herself to be escorted to dinner.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Wonder Woman is still waiting for Batman to take her dancing.

CONTINUITY: Somewhere after “Maid of Honor” but before “Hereafter.”

NOTES: Spoilers for several S1 and S2 eps, although the only major ones are for
“Fury.” (There’s also a shoutout for people who’ve read the graphic novel JLA:
Divided We Fall.) Thanks to: welshwitch for the beta, themorningstarr, rogue,
and kyanoswolf for providing crucial episode information, and Avi for helping me
understand Bats. Um, I don’t write stories like this. I don’t. Really. But I
hear tell some people like this kinda stuff.

Meetings were the most stressful part of being a member of the Justice League,
Batman thought as the latest meeting ended on a sour note. The others, tired of
beating issues instead of supervillains, gradually dispersed.

What to do now? Head back to Gotham and work out his aggressions on some crooks?
He hadn’t made an appearance in a few days and they might be getting bold.

He could always stay at the Watchtower and improve the security system. Dick had
made a few excellent suggestions about–

“Batman?”

He paused for a moment before turning, unwilling as ever to let Wonder Woman
know that the sound of her voice affected him. “Yes?”

She smiled at him–a dangerous smile, the one that belonged to Diana–and it
took most of his hard-fought control not to smile back. Or do something else.
“Take me dancing,” she said.

“Why?” He asked, trying his usual intimidating glare, accompanied by the crossed
arms.

Her smile dimmed not a whit. “Because I want to and Audrey’s otherwise
occupied.”

She was *definitely* laughing at him. “Take Flash. He likes to dance.”

An elegant eyebrow arched. “You *are* joking, I hope.”

Behind the cover of his mask, Batman’s eyes darted around looking for help, but
she’d timed it perfectly and the rest of the team had already left the room.
Even worse, she stood between him and the door. Not that he’d consider fleeing
from her. Of course not. Strategic retreat was another matter, however…

She slid an arm through his and tugged with a fraction of her enormous strength.
“Come dance with me, Batman.”

Damn it, he could practically *hear* the unspoken ‘Bruce.’ This was totally
unacceptable. Bad enough Clark knew who he was. “No. I don’t dance.”

Diana laughed aloud and he almost shivered. “One as graceful as you? I find that
*difficult* to believe.”

He pulled away, angry. “Whatever the game, I’m not playing.”

“Batman…” She paused, looking contrite. “I’m sorry. I…” She stopped, biting
her lip.

He turned away, even angrier when he realized he’d been staring at her lip. She
had no idea what the secrecy meant to him, how important it was. Damn
superpowered beings. Damn them all to hell.

She was still behind him and he stalked to the nearest computer and punched a
few random buttons.

“Batman?”

“Still there?” His harshest tones, the ones usually reserved for villains who’d
gotten him mad.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

A long silence and he abandoned the pretense of playing with the computer,
turning to face her. The compassion that filled Diana’s expression nearly undid
him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think. I’ve never needed a secret identity
and–”

“We’re not discussing this here.”

“But we *are* having this conversation.”

He wanted to say no, yearned to say no. “Yes.” She had to be made to understand.
It was important for some reason that he was sure he’d think of any moment now.

Hesitating, he decided his rooms in the Watchtower were as safe a place as he
would find, since he certainly wasn’t taking her back to Bruce’s home or the
Batcave. He didn’t speak, just swept out of the room and she followed with
uncharacteristic meekness.

They didn’t pass any of the others, just stalked down one cold and shadowed
corridor after another; for a wild moment he wondered how she felt about that.
He had seen her home after all, and it was so very different…

Not important right now, Batman told himself, as he opened the door. Her eyes
were a bit wide but she was silent, simply glancing around the room, expression
unchanging as she took in the computer equipment and bare walls.

Closing the door gently, he took a calming breath before turning to look at her.
It didn’t help.

His breathing, apparently tired of taking orders from his conscious mind, sped
up. The fact that he’d seen her in her minimal costume a thousand times made no
difference.

Diana broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

“There are reasons I don’t reveal my identity,” he said, growling a bit to cover
up his breathlessness.

A slow smile. “Then you should never have danced with me…Bruce.”

He couldn’t help it–he swallowed sharply. It didn’t sound the same when Clark
said it. “Diana…”

“I’m not going to reveal your secret. But I know it. You can’t change that.” She
pulled the chair away from his desk and sat. He kept his eyes fastened on her
face, even though she couldn’t see where he was looking. His ordinary wheeled
office chair looked different with her in it, he thought.

“You’re right…I shouldn’t have danced with you.”

His tone was almost venomous but she neither flinched nor stopped watching him.
“Why did you?” she asked.

The beautiful princess in unfamiliar surroundings, so becomingly flustered by
the media attention; in a moment of weakness, he allowed himself to be the
handsome prince. It was, after all, Bruce’s first meeting with Diana, and Bruce
was swept away by the moment. “Personal reasons.”

“Ah.” Her expression was still pleasant, but he couldn’t read it, couldn’t tell
what she was thinking or what she might do.

He couldn’t take it anymore and Diana accomplished what countless villains had
failed to do: She made him speak without thinking.

“What do you want?” The moment the words were out, he wanted to take them back,
but backtracking would only imbue them with greater significance. He wracked his
brain trying to think of something else to say.

“I want no more than you are willing and able to give,” she said.

“I have nothing to give.” A statement of fact, delivered with all the chill of
his frustration.

Diana shook her head. “I don’t believe there is nothing. I may not know Bruce
Wayne, but I know Batman.”

“Then what’s the difference between Diana and Wonder Woman?”

“Nothing.” She toyed for a moment with her lasso, the braided gold looking
harmless on her hip. “I have no secret identity, no split in my personality.
This may be why I have such difficulty grasping the importance of it to you.”

“Bruce Wayne and Batman are both…necessary.”

“Which one is the real you?”

Damn the woman.

He didn’t answer.

She shook her head and stood. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It doesn’t matter.”

He practiced his best blank face as she came to stand in front of him. She held
out her hands, every movement graceful and enchanting. “May I have this dance?”
she asked.

All rational thought fled and Batman watched someone else reach out and draw her
close. The music in his head was a stately waltz; she seemed to hear it too, her
steps falling in with his as if she’d attended the same long-ago dance classes.

Left closed change. She was the perfect partner.

Natural turn. So graceful.

Right closed change. Strides matching.

Reverse turn. Her hair floated around her.

Whisk. She smiled at him.

Promenade position. Their hips touched just as they were supposed to, and he
imagined he could feel her smooth skin even through the Kevlar.

Chasse. It wasn’t a slide, more like freefall as he lost himself in the moment,
in the joy of partnership, of silent communication.

Even without music, the dance had to end eventually. Batman let her go and
stepped back, already regretting…the dance? Or that the dance had ended? It
didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” she said, inclining her head.

He didn’t answer, hands clenched at his sides.

“I know how you feel about me. You’ve never been able to hide that.”

Every muscle yearned to retreat, tell her she was wrong, but he couldn’t. In
Gorilla City, when she’d seen his hands, filthy from trying to dig her out. The
way he ran to her when she was injured. Their dance the night she met Princess
Audrey. The way he called her name. He was just as obvious as Lantern was about
Hawkgirl. So much for his vaunted control.

Frozen in place, he suddenly understood why those idiotic deer stared at vehicle
headlights instead of getting the hell out of the way. Her sympathetic eyes
frightened him and he couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, could only wait for his
doom.

She stepped close again, one hand lightly cupping his jaw. “What I do not
understand is why you deny it.”

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered past the crushing pain in his chest.

“Dangerous?” The answer seemed to startle her and she dropped her hand.

“To me.” He swallowed. “I…act without thinking. When you’re…” He closed his
mouth. Damn it, he thought, wanting to bite off his tongue.

Her lips curved just a bit. “I learned several very important things from
Audrey. One was that sometimes spontaneity is a good thing.”

“Not for me.”

She let out a puff of breath and retreated to the chair. This time he didn’t
quite manage to avoid watching her long legs cross.

“When Aresia attempted to destroy man’s world,” Diana said, “there was a small
piece of me that wondered if she was right.”

Of course, he’d assumed that. And they called him paranoid.

“Hawkgirl and I spoke, after the rest of you had collapsed. I was distracted by
the sight of the female firefighters and police and paramedics, all working
together, and I said it felt just like home.” Diana folded her hands in her lap
and looked down. “Hawkgirl was aghast at the thought of living in a world
without men and I wondered aloud if men were really that essential.”

She looked up at him. “Then I remembered how you stopped the bus, collapsing as
I watched. I had held your unconscious body in my arms, and perched on that
building with Hawkgirl, it came home to me that *you* would die if we did not
stop Aresia.”

There was a ringing in his ears and he realized he was holding his breath.

Diana shook her head several times, as if to shake out the memory. “That was
when I understood. It was not men that were necessary, but you.”

His head tried its best to implode. ‘You’re my life,’ he wanted to tell her.
‘You’re air and water and shelter and nourishment.’ But Batman couldn’t, he
wouldn’t. Silent and unmoving, he waited for her to finish.

She stood again, chin high, every inch of her Diana, Princess of the Amazons. “I
said before that I would not take what you were not willing or able to give.”
She paused. “I have come forward. The rest is up to you.”

A long moment as the two of them stared at each other, and Diana bowed her head
slightly and walked toward the door. She would not beg, he knew, it was not in
her nature–just one of the things he loved about her.

Batman’s hands moved of their own accord, pulling back the cowl.

He felt naked.

“Wait.”

Diana turned, eyes widening when she saw his bare face. “Batman?”

“Please don’t go,” Bruce said. He stripped off his gloves and held out his
hands. “Stay and dance with me again.”

–end–

* * * * *

Final Author’s Note: Yes, I’ve read Te’s Batman/Flash fic “Date Night” and no, I
wasn’t thinking of it when I wrote this. ::grin:: I thought of it *after* I’d
finished. Great story, though

by Mara

Summary: “You can’t appreciate home till you’ve left it.”

CONTINUITY: Takes place during the episode “The Once and Future Thing: Weird
Western Tales.”

NOTES: I wasn’t going to write about Cowboy Bruce, but he insisted. I’m still
not sure why he chose this moment to *want* me to write about him…

The saloon was dirty, smelly, and rife with barely-leashed tension–it made
Batman homesick for the seedier parts of Gotham.

He resisted the urge to tip the hat even lower across his forehead, because
every time he did, either Wonder Woman or Green Lantern laughed at him. And that
was even more annoying than the…exposed feeling.

It was all well and good for the other two to wander around being heroes with
their faces exposed to the world, but he was *Batman*. Neither of them had the
faintest clue how hard he worked to keep his two lives separate, how much effort
it required to keep the civilians in his life safe.

They didn’t understand why Batman needed to be alone.

And while his conscious mind knew there was no need to hide his face so far in
the past, it still made him want to squirm–face bare to the world, sitting next
to two of the most famous members of the cape and tights crowd. He felt like he
had a target painted on his back. In neon letters. Saying ‘Kick me.’”

Batman wanted to be in the Cave with Robin making bad jokes. Or flying through
the skies while Nightwing tried to provoke him to anger. Or even back on the
Watchtower with Lantern putting him on the spot. Anywhere but stuck in the past,
with their only hope of getting home finding one idiot time traveler.

Not true, a traitorous portion of his mind argued: There were far worse fates
than being stuck in the past with Diana, where they *weren’t* Batman and Wonder
Woman, charter members of the Justice League. Where–

Batman told Bruce to shut up, and absentmindedly took a drink of his beer. It
was just as vile as he’d predicted and it took effort not to spit it out.

They needed to find their missing time traveler and get *out* of this place.
They needed to stop wasting their time in saloons watching card games. They
needed to *do* something, rather than just sit here hoping a clue would drop in
their laps.

In the spirit of ‘Know thyself,’ Batman had to admit (but only in the privacy of
his mind) that he was uncomfortable with so many openly displayed guns. They
were *everywhere*, making his palms itch and the hair on his neck stand up. He
should be rounding them up and dumping them in a handy river, not waiting for
somebody to get shot.

And right on schedule, that poker game was going downhill fast. Batman tensed,
preparing for action if necessary, cursing at being on the opposite side of the
table from any gunplay that was about to occur. What were the chances that
Lantern and Diana could restrain themselves from using their powers?

In the depths of his mind, Batman growled in the manner that made hardened
criminals shake in their boots. He just wanted to go *home*, damn it. Was that
too much to ask?

–end–

Final author’s note: The title is from the O. Henry story “The Fourth of
Salvador”: “You can’t appreciate home till you’ve left it, money till it’s
spent, your wife till she’s joined a woman’s club, nor Old Glory till you see it
hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.”

by Mara

Summary: Bruce thinks about Ted Kord.

Notes: So very much Madripoor Rose’s fault for pointing out something in the episode I hadn’t thought about.

Continuity: Brave and the Bold toonverse, after the teaser of “The Fall of the Blue Beetle” and after the end of the episode. Big ol’ spoilers for that episode.

Then:

Bruce was never particularly given to introspection about his actions, whether he was acting as Bruce Wayne or Batman. So it wasn’t until he’d already set the Batplane to hover in the clouds over Hub City and landed Ted’s Bug back inside his hideout under Kord Industries that Bruce wondered what the heck he was doing.

Well, obviously he couldn’t just leave the Bug sitting around Jarvis Kord’s lair, so…

Bruce sighed, pulling back the cowl and scrubbing his hand through his hair. Okay, he’d brought the Bug home because Ted would have wanted him too. Fine. It wasn’t like there was much else he could do for the hero who had died this day.

Looking around the hideout, he frowned at projects left unfinished and tools that would not be used. Scowling fiercely, he told himself he was too old to cry. Nobody ever said heroes lived forever, especially those without superpowers. At least Ted died doing the right thing and saving people’s lives.

Bruce sat down heavily in a creaky chair and closed his eyes, remembering Ted Kord, the Blue Beetle.

* * * * *

Bruce hadn’t ever met Dan Garrett, but he’d met Ted Kord shortly after the latter had built the Bug…

Alfred appeared in the Cave behind Bruce with a plate of sandwiches and a raised eyebrow. “I think perhaps it might be to your benefit to turn on CNN,” he said.

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it, taking the plate and switching one monitor to the news. His own eyebrows went to nearly stratospheric levels when he saw the brief video that CNN was playing. “What the–” The ship–although he wasn’t sure that was even the right word–seemed to be having some trouble flying in a straight line, and its…legs seemed to have developed some kind of twitch.

“It does not appear to have done any harm, despite making several appearances in the sky over Hub City and Evansville.”

“Hmm.” Bruce took a sandwich, thinking. “It doesn’t seem likely it’s a new villain then, does it? Surely, a criminal would have at least taken a potshot at someone.”

“That would seem logical.”

“Unless it’s–”

“Shall I gas up the plane, then?”

Bruce grinned at Alfred. “Well, nobody else seems to be investigating, so I suppose I should.” He grabbed another sandwich for the road. For some reason he had a premonition it was going to be a long evening.

* * * * *

The flight to southern Illinois from Gotham City didn’t take very long (after all, Wayne Enterprises had a great many patents involving jet engines), and finding the UFO only took about twenty minutes after that. The unknown pilot had managed to set it down remarkably well-disguised for it to take even that long, Bruce thought, maneuvering his own jet to the ground outside a thickly wooded area. But from the air, the hole right in the center wasn’t easy to miss.

Hopping out of the plane, Bruce prepared himself for a possible fight. Yes, his instincts said he wasn’t facing a new supervillain, but his instincts had been wrong before.

As he slid through the trees, he strained to hear any sign of what was coming. And when he finally heard something, it was enough to make him almost trip over a root. (Almost.)

“Darn it, you stupid piece of tech,” a voice said. “You work fine in the lab and turn into a disaster in the field? Fine sidekick you are. I have half a mind to turn you back into scrap metal and build a robot woman instead.”

Bruce’s lips twitched as he followed the voice and its string of complaints. Standing just outside the debris field that marked the ship’s landing, he surveyed the damage and saw the man in a blue costume kneeling next to an open panel.

Without even breaking his stream of speech, the man said, “And you can’t even bother to tell me that Batman is here until he’s practically breathing down my neck? What kind of proximity detector did I build for you, anyway? Would tin cans and string be better?”

Tensing, Bruce stepped out from behind the tree, batarang in hand. “If it can tell you that I’m Batman, then tin cans wouldn’t be an improvement.”

“Yeah,” the man said, standing, his hands carefully empty and away from his sides. “But it might have been nice if it had mentioned it before you were close enough to knock me out. Uh, why didn’t you, by the way?”

It was actually an excellent question, but Bruce avoided it. “I’m still trying to figure out who *you* are.”

“Right. I’m the Blue Beetle.”

Bruce didn’t move. “I’ve seen pictures of the Blue Beetle. You…don’t look much like him, from what I can remember.”

“Would you believe it’s a new costume?”

Bruce waited.

The man sighed. “I’m the new Blue Beetle. D–the past Blue Beetle was killed about a year ago. He…was a friend, and he asked me to take over. I couldn’t refuse him, under the circumstances.”

Even as he was evaluating the story, something about the man was kicking at the back of Bruce’s brain. He ran through lists of known criminals, considering if a bit of plastic surgery might have altered the shape of a face or…

Automatically lowering the hand with the batarang, Bruce said, “Ted Kord?”

The man–Ted Kord–stared, his jaw dropping. “You, how did you–I mean–maybe this secret identity thing is a waste of time.”

Bruce stowed the batarang away. “Let’s just say I have some inside knowledge.” He couldn’t claim to be best friends with the head of Kord Industries, but everything he knew about the man and his company said that he was on the up-and-up. Hell, Kord had turned down more military contracts for ethical reasons than even Wayne Enterprises had. Whether to reveal his *own* identity was a question for another day.

Kord shook his head. “Oookay. Well, now that we’ve gotten my utter embarrassment out of the way…I’ve still got to get the Bug out of here more or less in one piece.”

“The Bug?” Bruce tried not to smirk as he picked his way through the bits of trees to climb under the ship with Kord.

“Hey, for a man who flies a Batplane, you don’t really have the right to pick on me.” Kord grinned at him. “So, how much engineering do you know, anyway?”

“At least as much as you.” Bruce returned his grin. “And considering that the Batplane is still flying, maybe more.”

“Oho, that’s big talk for a guy who hasn’t even picked up a wrench to help me yet.” Ted pointed at a pile of tools. “Think we can get this thing flying?”

“Well, if not, my *Batplane* can always give it a ride home.”

“Ouch. A palpable hit.” Kord shook his head. “Look, the problem mainly seems to be the stabilizers…”

Bruce turned his attention to the open panel.

* * * * *

There followed several years of occasional team-ups and collaborations. Bruce did eventually reveal his identity and Ted pretended he’d figured it out and they argued over the usefulness and safety of a laser cutter Ted was trying to integrate into the Bug.

Bruce didn’t have a lot of peers, even in the hero business. He sure as heck didn’t have a lot of friends. Ted had been one of the very few to fit in both categories, and now he was gone.

Bruce looked around Ted’s hideout again. Maybe, well, maybe someday there would be another hero that would need this place, so he’d keep it intact. And that corner over there, well, it’d be a good place for a small memorial. Surely Ted had kept Dan Garrett’s old costume…

Touching a hand to his forehead, Bruce spoke. “Goodbye, old friend. You’ll be missed.”

* * * * *

Now:

Jaime spent three days wondering before he finally gave up. “Scarab?”

It sent an interrogative.

“Um…why didn’t you work for Ted Kord? I mean, he was this great guy. He had to be if Batman thought that highly of him. He was really a hero, so…why didn’t you help him?”

The scarab’s answer can be best translated for those without a direct neural link as “didn’t need.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t need you? You’re–” Jaime waved a hand helplessly. “Powerful,” he finally settled on.

“Grown man. Smart. Power as crutch.”

Jaime put his chin in his hands and considered this for a while. “Are you saying I’m dumb?”

The scarab’s laugh tickled.

“Okay okay, I know what you mean. If he’d depended on you, he wouldn’t have been able to do stuff like build his ship.”

“Correct.”

“But I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to do anything like that. I’m not an engineer or inventor.”

“Different kind of hero.”

“Oh.”

“Trust. Will see.”

Jaime shrugged. “I do trust you, so… ”

“Together. Good.”

“Yeah, I’m glad to have you around too, buddy.”

And Jaime went to bed, because after all, he did have a big math test in the morning. But he stopped for a moment to look out his bedroom window at the night sky, waving a hand up at the stars. “Ted, I’m sorry I never got to meet you. But I’ll try to do right by your name.”

–end–