Fic: Splintered, Part 7 (2 of 2)
Part 7.1
"Good morning, Endymion!"
Bruce cracked open an eye and saw an entirely-too-cheerful Amazon princess standing next to the bed, her face beaming.
"It's too early for mythological allusions." He tried to block out the light with a pillow. "God, you're a morning person. This will never work."
"I've got some coffee brewing."
He raised the pillow off his face a bit. "That'll help."
"And room service should be here shortly."
"I don't usually eat breakfast. Alfred makes me health shakes."
She continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "I ordered orange juice, eggs, and fresh strawberries - with plenty of whipped cream."
Need coffee. Now! "Whipped... cream?"
"Aren't you supposed to be a playboy? It wouldn't be breakfast in bed with your Amazonian playmate without whipped cream."
He groaned. "You've been reading too many women's magazines. And you're hardly my playmate."
"What would you call me, then?"
"Someone who needs to bring me a cup of coffee, if she expects to have any rational conversation."
"Touchy, aren't we?"
"Coffee. Now." And he gave her a lopsided smile. "Please?"
"All right, all right." She floated lazily across the room in the general direction of the coffee maker - stopping to look in the mirror, open the blinds, and turn back to give him a mischievous smile.
"Ahem."
She tsked briefly. "Do your enemies know about this weakness of yours?" Finally reaching the coffee pot, she poured a large mug. "The usual?"
"Yeah."
There was a knock on the door. Diana brought the mug to him before going over to answer the door. Opening it, she admitted the room service waiter, who wheeled in a cart with covered dishes.
"Where would you like these?" the waiter asked, looking from Diana to Bruce.
Before he could respond, Diana spoke up. "I’m sure Mr. Wayne would prefer breakfast in bed." And she gave Bruce a dazzling smile. "Wouldn't you, darling?"
"Of course, babe." Damn, she's good at this. You don't suppose she was a rich man's mistress a couple thousand years ago?
Nah…Maybe he was hers.
Oh boy.
The waiter arranged the food, drinks, and silverware on two bed trays, and then came around to Bruce's side of the bed with the bill for him to sign.
Diana waited for the waiter to leave, then asked, "So what's the plan today, Bruce?"
He looked at her with feigned innocence. "You said something about whipped cream?"
She rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall a certain grumpy man growling at Zatanna and me about the mission. That ring any bells?"
"Oh, that. Well, you recall Cassandra's admonition?"
"Which one? That poor girl, nobody ever listened to her."
"The one about Greeks bearing gifts."
Diana looked at him quizzically. "Go on."
"Let's just say that after yesterday's e-mail, we may get to be the ones bearing gifts."
"For Circe?"
He smiled enigmatically, and showed the room service bill to Diana. There was a handwritten note enclosed:
Bruce! Heard you're in town. How are things in Gotham?
Got your e-mail. How about 2 this afternoon?
- Steve
"Who's that from?" Diana was reading over his shoulder.
"Patience, Princess. Bruce Wayne moves in mysterious ways."
She looked at him, annoyed, then burst out laughing. "Hephaestus' beard! You. Are. A. Pain!"
"Yes, but I'm irresistible. I'll explain later - right now, I'm starving."
* * *
Bruce thought it best to retain a smug sense of satisfaction the entire time. For one thing, it drove Diana nuts, and he thought she could do with some tweaking. The last thing I want is for her to start thinking of me as some sort of emotional invalid. She had quickly tumbled to his game, of course, and had refused to be baited.
They had strolled through the Wynn Esplanade, Diana playing the role of "arm candy" to a tee. He'd spotted a lot of surreptitious looks from the male passersby - and some of the female passersby as well.
The staff at the Oscar de la Renta boutique had practically salivated when he and Diana had walked in the door. Before he knew it, Diana had been shown to a dressing room while a bevy of salespeople brought her outfits.
He had taken a seat to enjoy the show. Although Diana was hardly a "girly" girl, she had seemed to take the proceedings in stride, tolerating the tailor's pins and measurements. As a princess, I'll bet she's used to the fawning. The manager had promised that the alterations would be finished and the outfits delivered to their suite that evening.
Afterwards, they'd stopped by the Ferrari-Maserati dealership conveniently located next to valet parking at the Wynn, and Bruce had test-driven a Maserati GranSport Spyder. It had taken a while to get away from the traffic, but once they'd reached the open desert, he and Diana had taken turns putting the car through its paces. They'd put the top down, and he had enjoyed watching Diana's hair stream behind her as she drove. He'd almost been sorry to return the keys to the salesperson. But that does give me an idea for Diana's birthday…if she'd accept it. Come to think of it, when is her birthday, or the Julian calendar equivalent?
They'd whiled away the intervening hours pleasantly, and now he and Diana were seated in leather club chairs in a plush reception area. Bruce recognized the painting on the far wall; a Gauguin. Although they hadn't been waiting long, Diana seemed impatient, shifting restlessly in her chair.
Guess the swim this afternoon wasn't enough activity for her; we'd better allow time for a flight tonight. He made a mental note to remind her to stay out of McCarran International Airport's airspace.
The receptionist reappeared. "Mr. Wayne, Madam Ambassador? Mr. Wynn will see you now."
* * *
"You know, I could really get used to this," Zatanna said, looking over the menu at Picasso."Too bad it ends tomorrow. This place really is like Disneyland for adults, only with showgirls instead of costumed characters."
"A place where dreams could come true - but won't," Bruce observed, sipping his wine.
"Well, that was suitably dark and brooding," Diana said, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you think that's what Circe's doing here?" Zatanna asked. "Making her dreams come true? Guess she doesn't want to work her way up like the rest of us."
Bruce finished chewing his steak before he answered; it had almost melted in his mouth, it was so tender. "She's one diva who really is a goddess; the others only think they are."
Zatanna crooked her finger and the saltshaker sailed across the table to her place. "I hate to admit it, but she's not bad. I bet she could do pretty well even without the Flute. But it would probably take a long time to build up enough of a following to be a headliner, and even then, she'd have to convince the management to replace whoever is performing now. For someone who's virtually unknown, it would be nearly impossible."
"Nearly impossible, but not completely impossible." And he and Diana told Zatanna of the plan they had worked out that afternoon.
"That makes sense," Zatanna said. "I've been busy, too. I got her room number when I disguised myself as a flower shop employee making a delivery. And I've also got the other thing we'll need tomorrow morning."
With that, Zatanna opened her handbag and extracted three sprigs of an herb with a white flower and a black root. She handed one each to Bruce and Diana.
"Is that -" Bruce asked.
Diana nodded. "Yes. Moly. That's one thing Homer got right. Whatever happens, at least she won't be able to transform us."
* * *
After the meal, Zatanna had told them she was "going to catch up with some friends" and had simply taken off.
"What happens now?" Diana asked, as she and Bruce returned to the Wynn.
"Time to hit the tables."
"The tables?"
"Baccarat. Somehow I think you'll bring me luck."
* * *
It had all been eights and nines, chevals and bancos. Bruce had actually won a tidy sum - all of which, he had loudly proclaimed, would be donated to charity. Diana had actually been more than a good luck charm - she had been an invaluable distraction. Most of the male players had made incredibly stupid mistakes, and their table had fast become a Vegas attraction in its own right.
Now they were back in their suite, and Diana was taking off her earrings. "Please tell me you'll dispense with the pajamas tonight."
He smirked. "But I'll be cold."
"This, from a man who spends his time in the freezing rain, perched atop rooftops in Gotham."
"That's different."
Bruce watched Diana sit down on the side of they bed and slip off her shoes. I can't believe she's wearing those high heels. Somehow I thought Amazons would go for sensible shoes. Her legs certainly didn't need the additional shapeliness that the heels provided, but they didn't hurt.
"How is it different, Bruce?" she asked softly.
"I've got the Batsuit on." He got under the covers in one fluid motion.
"And here you've got me. I'm quite warm, you know." She slipped in next to him.
He could sense her eagerness - she was barely keeping it in check. "I've noticed."
"Have you now?" she asked, attempting to sound nonchalant.
"Of course I have. I'm the Batman."
"So I hear." She snuggled up to him, laughing softly. "Sorry I made you the cause of merriment among our fellow warriors."
"Huh?"
"I heard about Clark and Wally and their… reenactment."
"Yes, well...I, um, I showed them."
"Really? What did you do?"
"I drank my cup of coffee while they went away laughing."
"Ah, my brave warrior." Her laugh was throatier than he expected.
Interesting what turns you on, Diana. "I'm glad you feel my pain."
"That's not the only thing I'd like to feel," she whispered in his ear.
"Diana -"
"Sorry. Hard to turn it off." He could almost see her sheepish grin.
"Turn what off?"
"I guess you'd call it my style."
"Oh, so this is how you seduce all your men?"
He could feel her blushing in the dark. "I'm not - I'm not a courtesan, you know, despite my eagerness. I don’t want to trigger your fears. It’s just -"
"It's just…?"
"It's just that I… I really want you." Her last words were almost in a whisper as she turned away, shrinking.
"I do too, you know."
She did not turn back, but he could sense he had her interest.
"It's like I'm trapped - trapped inside a scared, eighteen-year-old boy. I can look out, but I can't get out. And it's like I can't touch anybody."
Diana turned around to face him. "You can touch me. I want to help you, Bruce. Can't you see that?"
"I know you want to. But answer me this."
"Yes?"
"What am I to you? A project? A promising lay that is just turning out more complicated than planned? What?"
"I don't understand what you mean," she said, sounding flustered.
"I think you do."
Diana sighed, exasperated. "Why does everything have to be so complicated for you?"
"I told you I had lots of issues."
"Great Hera, you weren't kidding."
"No, I wasn't. And you haven't answered my question."
"What question?"
"Hrn. You know, that innocent routine only works with Kara or Courtney. Not with a woman who's chronologically old enough to be my - well, actually, way older than my grandmother."
Diana cleared her throat. "That may be, but by the standards of the immortals, I'm really what you would call a kid."
Bruce pounced. "By the standards of the immortals, I'm insignificant!Three hundred years from now, when I'm long gone, will I just be one of your conquests? A pleasant memory? You may have all eternity to get it right. I don't."
She seemed genuinely stricken. "What do you want me to say?"
"That you're not embarrassing me, and prodding, and prying into my eff'd-up life simply so you can reminisce four hundred years from now about 'what a good lay the basket case in the bat suit' was!"
"Your words. Not mine."
"My question stands. Do you just want me, or do you love me? Because for me, loving you - being open to you - is excruciatingly difficult. If all you're interested in is a taste of twenty-first century Man's World goodies, there are any number of men who aren't messed up who would be all too happy to oblige!"
Diana grabbed his shoulders, roughly. "Bruce, you idiot! With so many men out there who would be all too glad to be mine - believe me, I've noticed - if I didn't love you, why in Hades would I put up with this?" And she kissed him fiercely.
He felt the heat of her breath. Could I possibly deserve her?
She trailed kisses down his neck and chest, unbuttoning his pajama top as she went.
Down, and down…
"Wait."
Diana raised her head and looked up at him. "Something wrong?"
"I'd say there is. You're not playing fair."
"What do you mean? I'm only trying to help you advance your boundaries a little."
Bruce pointed to the brooches at her shoulders. "Are these holding your gown together?"
She smiled coyly. "Partly. There's also a belt."
"One thing at a time, Princess." And he unpinned one brooch, then the other. The white fabric fell, pooling around her waist.
He'd seen any number of breasts - small, voluptuous, pert, jiggly - but he'd never beheld a body like hers, so perfect that it could have been sculpted from marble, but warm and glowing with life. It was hard to believe that she had been crafted from clay.
He lay back against the pillows, pulling her into his embrace. "Now, we're even."
Diana nestled into his chest, letting out a contented sigh.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his abdomen, her hair cascading over his chest, her leg draped possessively over his. He reached out to gently stroke her head.
She laughed softly. "You did that when I was…indisposed."
"Zatanna told you about that? Did she also tell you that I scratched you behind the ears? You know, like this?"
He could feel her face curve into a smile in response to his actions. "That's nice, but I think I appreciated it more before."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do here." He kissed the top of her head.
"You know us Amazons, we're all about sacrificing ourselves to help others. Pretty rough work, cuddling with the Batman."
I'm not sure anyone ever used the words "cuddling" and "Batman" in the same sentence before.
"We do have to get up early tomorrow," he murmured.
"I know."
"That means you should probably get off me so I can sleep."
"Should I?" She didn't budge.
"If you don't want to face the consequences."
"Consequences?" Diana raised herself up until she was looking directly into Bruce's eyes.
He met her gaze calmly. "There are always consequences."
"What consequences did you have in mind?"
In answer, he reached out with his left hand and traced the outline of her cheekbone with one finger.
She sighed.
And he began to tickle her with his right hand.
She squealed and tried to grab his wrist, but he evaded her and kept tickling, now using both hands.
"You're still fighting dirty!" She rolled onto her side, away from him. "There. Satisfied?" But he heard a hint of laughter in her voice, and she turned back to snuggle with him. "Sorry. I think this bed is too small. I can't seem to put enough distance between us."
"Then I guess we'll have to suffer."
"I guess so," she said, sounding mischievous.
"Good night, Diana." He intended to give her a simple peck on the lips, but the fire of her response made him lengthen it.
She raised her head. "Good night, agapitos."
* * *
Bruce tried to stifle a yawn. He'd tossed and turned all night, expecting any moment to feel an Amazon elbow in his ribs. Fortunately, Diana hadn't seemed to notice his restlessness.
Now, she and Zatanna stood in the hallway outside Circe's room, waiting for him to proceed with the plan they'd discussed earlier. He inserted his electronic skeleton keycard, and the light turned green. Immediately, they burst into Circe's room.
Surprisingly, though her hair was mussed and she was wearing a robe, she was wide awake. Guess she's more of an early bird than we thought.
If Circe was surprised, she gave no sign of it. "Do you realize how early it is?" She yawned, then looked at Bruce. "And shouldn't you be hanging upside-down somewhere?"
Her gaze turned to each of them, lazily. "A playboy, a Princess, and a trickster. Sounds like the beginning of a bar joke. Now whatever would the three of you want" - she stretched luxuriously, her bosom straining against the robe - "with little old me?"
Diana started forward, restrained only by Bruce's hand on her elbow. "You know what we want, witch. Give it back. Now!"
"Give what back, little princess? Your porcine form? I'd be glad to oblige -" Circe raised her hands.
"No!" Bruce shoved Diana out of the way and opened his cape, shielding her from Circe. "We came to negotiate." If she doesn't realize we have the moly, that's another advantage for us.
"Negotiate?" Circe said mockingly. "My dear Mr. Wayne, I thought you'd know by now that you can only truly negotiate when you have something the other person wants. And I'm afraid I have all the cards." She spread her fingers and playing cards appeared between them, suspended in mid-air. "What could I possibly want from you?" The cards turned into butterflies and fluttered to her unmade bed, covering it like a moving bedspread.
Zatanna glanced at the butterflies, clearly impressed, but kept her wand at the ready.
"I can get you your heart's desire," Bruce said, smirking. "Or one of them, anyway."
"Hmmm." Circe considered. "I'll bite." And she looked at Bruce coolly. "What exactly do you think I want?"
"You want to be a singer."
"Wrong. I am a singer."
"You want to be a headliner."
"I am a -"
"No, you're not."
Circe's eyes flashed. "Tread lightly, little man. Who do you think you're dealing with, anyway?"
He felt the same sense of the room stretching, filled with her eyes. It seemed like Circe could see through his cowl, observe his thoughts like J'onn. She's better looking than he is, but still…dammit, Bruce, concentrate!
He allowed his voice to slip into sultry playboy mode. "A goddess who's gotten some bad press…and is as sensuous as the songs she sings."
"I think we need a little privacy for this discussion." She gestured with her wand, and Diana and Zatanna disappeared. "Do go on."
He wanted to react with the same panic he'd had when Diana had disappeared from that Gotham so far in the future, but forced himself to remain calm. "A lonely goddess…who's accustomed to having her pick of men."
"You do have a way with words. Something else you have in common with Odysseus." Her eyes grew unfocused; she was obviously remembering.
Bruce pressed his advantage. "Was he your favorite, Circe? Is that why you didn't want him to leave?"
"He was…unique, I'll say that for him. That Penelope sow had no clue what she had in him." Her eyes hardened, losing their misty expression. "I know what you're trying to do, mortal. And I also know that you're completely incapable of doing it." She shrugged. "Too bad."
He met her gaze with equal coldness. "And you, a goddess, are of course completely incapable of changing that."
She smiled an indulgent and not altogether pleasant smile. "It's been a while since I had a petitioner. And I don't smell a sacrifice."
"Ah, but there's payment." He extracted the contract from a compartment in his utility belt and handed it to her. "All you have to do is sign, and you can move your act from Lure to the Broadway Theatre."
She perused the papers. "Hmm. Not bad - though I see I'm only going to have the stage the nights that Spamalot is dark." Handing the contract to Bruce, she frowned. "I’m not sure this is acceptable."
"You can still sing in the lounge the other nights. This will just get you much more exposure - your name in lights, your act advertised all over town. And I know you've been wondering what would happen after your booking ends next month."
Circe pursed her lips.
"This deal is only good for twenty-four hours. After that, you're on your own."
She looked at him, and again he felt her scrutiny.
"And I forgot to mention that you'll have to return my teammates, or the deal's off."
She made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, they'll be back. I only sent them to the MGM Lion Habitat. If your trickster friend is half the magician she thinks she is, they'll be back. Of course," she said with a smirk, "the Amazon might have to break down the wall to get in here - it's warded now."
"Destroying hotel property might not be the best way to keep your employer happy."
"Oh, all right," Circe said, pouting slightly. "I'll return them - in a minute. And I suppose I could trade the flute for this contract. But I'm afraid you're on your own with your problem. You'd need to bring me something much better in exchange."
"There's more than one way to skin a cat. But I’m not sure your new friend would appreciate that cliché."
"No, she probably wouldn't. Useful girl, though a bit obsessed with you. It's too bad I had to let your identity slip."
His voice lowered to Batman's growl. "You did what?"
"Oh, after our little encounter, I kept tabs on you, and it didn't take too long to put two and two together. Poor Selina. You know, I told her about the Tears in exchange for her help, and she was so worried about how she could expose you to them. Your outfit there leaves far too much to the imagination, more's the pity." And she winked. "She almost backed out of our deal, so I had to sweeten the pot a bit and tell her who you are when you're not cavorting on rooftops."
His lips curled into a snarl.
Circe spread her hands. "At least I told you. Now you know. Consider it a parting gift." She gestured again, and Bruce found himself holding the flute and standing in the hallway, next to Diana and Zatanna, both of whom looked extremely pissed off.
Circe's mocking laughter echoed in Bruce's head.
Part Eight
"Good morning, Endymion!"
Bruce cracked open an eye and saw an entirely-too-cheerful Amazon princess standing next to the bed, her face beaming.
"It's too early for mythological allusions." He tried to block out the light with a pillow. "God, you're a morning person. This will never work."
"I've got some coffee brewing."
He raised the pillow off his face a bit. "That'll help."
"And room service should be here shortly."
"I don't usually eat breakfast. Alfred makes me health shakes."
She continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "I ordered orange juice, eggs, and fresh strawberries - with plenty of whipped cream."
Need coffee. Now! "Whipped... cream?"
"Aren't you supposed to be a playboy? It wouldn't be breakfast in bed with your Amazonian playmate without whipped cream."
He groaned. "You've been reading too many women's magazines. And you're hardly my playmate."
"What would you call me, then?"
"Someone who needs to bring me a cup of coffee, if she expects to have any rational conversation."
"Touchy, aren't we?"
"Coffee. Now." And he gave her a lopsided smile. "Please?"
"All right, all right." She floated lazily across the room in the general direction of the coffee maker - stopping to look in the mirror, open the blinds, and turn back to give him a mischievous smile.
"Ahem."
She tsked briefly. "Do your enemies know about this weakness of yours?" Finally reaching the coffee pot, she poured a large mug. "The usual?"
"Yeah."
There was a knock on the door. Diana brought the mug to him before going over to answer the door. Opening it, she admitted the room service waiter, who wheeled in a cart with covered dishes.
"Where would you like these?" the waiter asked, looking from Diana to Bruce.
Before he could respond, Diana spoke up. "I’m sure Mr. Wayne would prefer breakfast in bed." And she gave Bruce a dazzling smile. "Wouldn't you, darling?"
"Of course, babe." Damn, she's good at this. You don't suppose she was a rich man's mistress a couple thousand years ago?
Nah…Maybe he was hers.
Oh boy.
The waiter arranged the food, drinks, and silverware on two bed trays, and then came around to Bruce's side of the bed with the bill for him to sign.
Diana waited for the waiter to leave, then asked, "So what's the plan today, Bruce?"
He looked at her with feigned innocence. "You said something about whipped cream?"
She rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall a certain grumpy man growling at Zatanna and me about the mission. That ring any bells?"
"Oh, that. Well, you recall Cassandra's admonition?"
"Which one? That poor girl, nobody ever listened to her."
"The one about Greeks bearing gifts."
Diana looked at him quizzically. "Go on."
"Let's just say that after yesterday's e-mail, we may get to be the ones bearing gifts."
"For Circe?"
He smiled enigmatically, and showed the room service bill to Diana. There was a handwritten note enclosed:
Bruce! Heard you're in town. How are things in Gotham?
Got your e-mail. How about 2 this afternoon?
- Steve
"Who's that from?" Diana was reading over his shoulder.
"Patience, Princess. Bruce Wayne moves in mysterious ways."
She looked at him, annoyed, then burst out laughing. "Hephaestus' beard! You. Are. A. Pain!"
"Yes, but I'm irresistible. I'll explain later - right now, I'm starving."
* * *
Bruce thought it best to retain a smug sense of satisfaction the entire time. For one thing, it drove Diana nuts, and he thought she could do with some tweaking. The last thing I want is for her to start thinking of me as some sort of emotional invalid. She had quickly tumbled to his game, of course, and had refused to be baited.
They had strolled through the Wynn Esplanade, Diana playing the role of "arm candy" to a tee. He'd spotted a lot of surreptitious looks from the male passersby - and some of the female passersby as well.
The staff at the Oscar de la Renta boutique had practically salivated when he and Diana had walked in the door. Before he knew it, Diana had been shown to a dressing room while a bevy of salespeople brought her outfits.
He had taken a seat to enjoy the show. Although Diana was hardly a "girly" girl, she had seemed to take the proceedings in stride, tolerating the tailor's pins and measurements. As a princess, I'll bet she's used to the fawning. The manager had promised that the alterations would be finished and the outfits delivered to their suite that evening.
Afterwards, they'd stopped by the Ferrari-Maserati dealership conveniently located next to valet parking at the Wynn, and Bruce had test-driven a Maserati GranSport Spyder. It had taken a while to get away from the traffic, but once they'd reached the open desert, he and Diana had taken turns putting the car through its paces. They'd put the top down, and he had enjoyed watching Diana's hair stream behind her as she drove. He'd almost been sorry to return the keys to the salesperson. But that does give me an idea for Diana's birthday…if she'd accept it. Come to think of it, when is her birthday, or the Julian calendar equivalent?
They'd whiled away the intervening hours pleasantly, and now he and Diana were seated in leather club chairs in a plush reception area. Bruce recognized the painting on the far wall; a Gauguin. Although they hadn't been waiting long, Diana seemed impatient, shifting restlessly in her chair.
Guess the swim this afternoon wasn't enough activity for her; we'd better allow time for a flight tonight. He made a mental note to remind her to stay out of McCarran International Airport's airspace.
The receptionist reappeared. "Mr. Wayne, Madam Ambassador? Mr. Wynn will see you now."
* * *
"You know, I could really get used to this," Zatanna said, looking over the menu at Picasso."Too bad it ends tomorrow. This place really is like Disneyland for adults, only with showgirls instead of costumed characters."
"A place where dreams could come true - but won't," Bruce observed, sipping his wine.
"Well, that was suitably dark and brooding," Diana said, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you think that's what Circe's doing here?" Zatanna asked. "Making her dreams come true? Guess she doesn't want to work her way up like the rest of us."
Bruce finished chewing his steak before he answered; it had almost melted in his mouth, it was so tender. "She's one diva who really is a goddess; the others only think they are."
Zatanna crooked her finger and the saltshaker sailed across the table to her place. "I hate to admit it, but she's not bad. I bet she could do pretty well even without the Flute. But it would probably take a long time to build up enough of a following to be a headliner, and even then, she'd have to convince the management to replace whoever is performing now. For someone who's virtually unknown, it would be nearly impossible."
"Nearly impossible, but not completely impossible." And he and Diana told Zatanna of the plan they had worked out that afternoon.
"That makes sense," Zatanna said. "I've been busy, too. I got her room number when I disguised myself as a flower shop employee making a delivery. And I've also got the other thing we'll need tomorrow morning."
With that, Zatanna opened her handbag and extracted three sprigs of an herb with a white flower and a black root. She handed one each to Bruce and Diana.
"Is that -" Bruce asked.
Diana nodded. "Yes. Moly. That's one thing Homer got right. Whatever happens, at least she won't be able to transform us."
* * *
After the meal, Zatanna had told them she was "going to catch up with some friends" and had simply taken off.
"What happens now?" Diana asked, as she and Bruce returned to the Wynn.
"Time to hit the tables."
"The tables?"
"Baccarat. Somehow I think you'll bring me luck."
* * *
It had all been eights and nines, chevals and bancos. Bruce had actually won a tidy sum - all of which, he had loudly proclaimed, would be donated to charity. Diana had actually been more than a good luck charm - she had been an invaluable distraction. Most of the male players had made incredibly stupid mistakes, and their table had fast become a Vegas attraction in its own right.
Now they were back in their suite, and Diana was taking off her earrings. "Please tell me you'll dispense with the pajamas tonight."
He smirked. "But I'll be cold."
"This, from a man who spends his time in the freezing rain, perched atop rooftops in Gotham."
"That's different."
Bruce watched Diana sit down on the side of they bed and slip off her shoes. I can't believe she's wearing those high heels. Somehow I thought Amazons would go for sensible shoes. Her legs certainly didn't need the additional shapeliness that the heels provided, but they didn't hurt.
"How is it different, Bruce?" she asked softly.
"I've got the Batsuit on." He got under the covers in one fluid motion.
"And here you've got me. I'm quite warm, you know." She slipped in next to him.
He could sense her eagerness - she was barely keeping it in check. "I've noticed."
"Have you now?" she asked, attempting to sound nonchalant.
"Of course I have. I'm the Batman."
"So I hear." She snuggled up to him, laughing softly. "Sorry I made you the cause of merriment among our fellow warriors."
"Huh?"
"I heard about Clark and Wally and their… reenactment."
"Yes, well...I, um, I showed them."
"Really? What did you do?"
"I drank my cup of coffee while they went away laughing."
"Ah, my brave warrior." Her laugh was throatier than he expected.
Interesting what turns you on, Diana. "I'm glad you feel my pain."
"That's not the only thing I'd like to feel," she whispered in his ear.
"Diana -"
"Sorry. Hard to turn it off." He could almost see her sheepish grin.
"Turn what off?"
"I guess you'd call it my style."
"Oh, so this is how you seduce all your men?"
He could feel her blushing in the dark. "I'm not - I'm not a courtesan, you know, despite my eagerness. I don’t want to trigger your fears. It’s just -"
"It's just…?"
"It's just that I… I really want you." Her last words were almost in a whisper as she turned away, shrinking.
"I do too, you know."
She did not turn back, but he could sense he had her interest.
"It's like I'm trapped - trapped inside a scared, eighteen-year-old boy. I can look out, but I can't get out. And it's like I can't touch anybody."
Diana turned around to face him. "You can touch me. I want to help you, Bruce. Can't you see that?"
"I know you want to. But answer me this."
"Yes?"
"What am I to you? A project? A promising lay that is just turning out more complicated than planned? What?"
"I don't understand what you mean," she said, sounding flustered.
"I think you do."
Diana sighed, exasperated. "Why does everything have to be so complicated for you?"
"I told you I had lots of issues."
"Great Hera, you weren't kidding."
"No, I wasn't. And you haven't answered my question."
"What question?"
"Hrn. You know, that innocent routine only works with Kara or Courtney. Not with a woman who's chronologically old enough to be my - well, actually, way older than my grandmother."
Diana cleared her throat. "That may be, but by the standards of the immortals, I'm really what you would call a kid."
Bruce pounced. "By the standards of the immortals, I'm insignificant!Three hundred years from now, when I'm long gone, will I just be one of your conquests? A pleasant memory? You may have all eternity to get it right. I don't."
She seemed genuinely stricken. "What do you want me to say?"
"That you're not embarrassing me, and prodding, and prying into my eff'd-up life simply so you can reminisce four hundred years from now about 'what a good lay the basket case in the bat suit' was!"
"Your words. Not mine."
"My question stands. Do you just want me, or do you love me? Because for me, loving you - being open to you - is excruciatingly difficult. If all you're interested in is a taste of twenty-first century Man's World goodies, there are any number of men who aren't messed up who would be all too happy to oblige!"
Diana grabbed his shoulders, roughly. "Bruce, you idiot! With so many men out there who would be all too glad to be mine - believe me, I've noticed - if I didn't love you, why in Hades would I put up with this?" And she kissed him fiercely.
He felt the heat of her breath. Could I possibly deserve her?
She trailed kisses down his neck and chest, unbuttoning his pajama top as she went.
Down, and down…
"Wait."
Diana raised her head and looked up at him. "Something wrong?"
"I'd say there is. You're not playing fair."
"What do you mean? I'm only trying to help you advance your boundaries a little."
Bruce pointed to the brooches at her shoulders. "Are these holding your gown together?"
She smiled coyly. "Partly. There's also a belt."
"One thing at a time, Princess." And he unpinned one brooch, then the other. The white fabric fell, pooling around her waist.
He'd seen any number of breasts - small, voluptuous, pert, jiggly - but he'd never beheld a body like hers, so perfect that it could have been sculpted from marble, but warm and glowing with life. It was hard to believe that she had been crafted from clay.
He lay back against the pillows, pulling her into his embrace. "Now, we're even."
Diana nestled into his chest, letting out a contented sigh.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his abdomen, her hair cascading over his chest, her leg draped possessively over his. He reached out to gently stroke her head.
She laughed softly. "You did that when I was…indisposed."
"Zatanna told you about that? Did she also tell you that I scratched you behind the ears? You know, like this?"
He could feel her face curve into a smile in response to his actions. "That's nice, but I think I appreciated it more before."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do here." He kissed the top of her head.
"You know us Amazons, we're all about sacrificing ourselves to help others. Pretty rough work, cuddling with the Batman."
I'm not sure anyone ever used the words "cuddling" and "Batman" in the same sentence before.
"We do have to get up early tomorrow," he murmured.
"I know."
"That means you should probably get off me so I can sleep."
"Should I?" She didn't budge.
"If you don't want to face the consequences."
"Consequences?" Diana raised herself up until she was looking directly into Bruce's eyes.
He met her gaze calmly. "There are always consequences."
"What consequences did you have in mind?"
In answer, he reached out with his left hand and traced the outline of her cheekbone with one finger.
She sighed.
And he began to tickle her with his right hand.
She squealed and tried to grab his wrist, but he evaded her and kept tickling, now using both hands.
"You're still fighting dirty!" She rolled onto her side, away from him. "There. Satisfied?" But he heard a hint of laughter in her voice, and she turned back to snuggle with him. "Sorry. I think this bed is too small. I can't seem to put enough distance between us."
"Then I guess we'll have to suffer."
"I guess so," she said, sounding mischievous.
"Good night, Diana." He intended to give her a simple peck on the lips, but the fire of her response made him lengthen it.
She raised her head. "Good night, agapitos."
* * *
Bruce tried to stifle a yawn. He'd tossed and turned all night, expecting any moment to feel an Amazon elbow in his ribs. Fortunately, Diana hadn't seemed to notice his restlessness.
Now, she and Zatanna stood in the hallway outside Circe's room, waiting for him to proceed with the plan they'd discussed earlier. He inserted his electronic skeleton keycard, and the light turned green. Immediately, they burst into Circe's room.
Surprisingly, though her hair was mussed and she was wearing a robe, she was wide awake. Guess she's more of an early bird than we thought.
If Circe was surprised, she gave no sign of it. "Do you realize how early it is?" She yawned, then looked at Bruce. "And shouldn't you be hanging upside-down somewhere?"
Her gaze turned to each of them, lazily. "A playboy, a Princess, and a trickster. Sounds like the beginning of a bar joke. Now whatever would the three of you want" - she stretched luxuriously, her bosom straining against the robe - "with little old me?"
Diana started forward, restrained only by Bruce's hand on her elbow. "You know what we want, witch. Give it back. Now!"
"Give what back, little princess? Your porcine form? I'd be glad to oblige -" Circe raised her hands.
"No!" Bruce shoved Diana out of the way and opened his cape, shielding her from Circe. "We came to negotiate." If she doesn't realize we have the moly, that's another advantage for us.
"Negotiate?" Circe said mockingly. "My dear Mr. Wayne, I thought you'd know by now that you can only truly negotiate when you have something the other person wants. And I'm afraid I have all the cards." She spread her fingers and playing cards appeared between them, suspended in mid-air. "What could I possibly want from you?" The cards turned into butterflies and fluttered to her unmade bed, covering it like a moving bedspread.
Zatanna glanced at the butterflies, clearly impressed, but kept her wand at the ready.
"I can get you your heart's desire," Bruce said, smirking. "Or one of them, anyway."
"Hmmm." Circe considered. "I'll bite." And she looked at Bruce coolly. "What exactly do you think I want?"
"You want to be a singer."
"Wrong. I am a singer."
"You want to be a headliner."
"I am a -"
"No, you're not."
Circe's eyes flashed. "Tread lightly, little man. Who do you think you're dealing with, anyway?"
He felt the same sense of the room stretching, filled with her eyes. It seemed like Circe could see through his cowl, observe his thoughts like J'onn. She's better looking than he is, but still…dammit, Bruce, concentrate!
He allowed his voice to slip into sultry playboy mode. "A goddess who's gotten some bad press…and is as sensuous as the songs she sings."
"I think we need a little privacy for this discussion." She gestured with her wand, and Diana and Zatanna disappeared. "Do go on."
He wanted to react with the same panic he'd had when Diana had disappeared from that Gotham so far in the future, but forced himself to remain calm. "A lonely goddess…who's accustomed to having her pick of men."
"You do have a way with words. Something else you have in common with Odysseus." Her eyes grew unfocused; she was obviously remembering.
Bruce pressed his advantage. "Was he your favorite, Circe? Is that why you didn't want him to leave?"
"He was…unique, I'll say that for him. That Penelope sow had no clue what she had in him." Her eyes hardened, losing their misty expression. "I know what you're trying to do, mortal. And I also know that you're completely incapable of doing it." She shrugged. "Too bad."
He met her gaze with equal coldness. "And you, a goddess, are of course completely incapable of changing that."
She smiled an indulgent and not altogether pleasant smile. "It's been a while since I had a petitioner. And I don't smell a sacrifice."
"Ah, but there's payment." He extracted the contract from a compartment in his utility belt and handed it to her. "All you have to do is sign, and you can move your act from Lure to the Broadway Theatre."
She perused the papers. "Hmm. Not bad - though I see I'm only going to have the stage the nights that Spamalot is dark." Handing the contract to Bruce, she frowned. "I’m not sure this is acceptable."
"You can still sing in the lounge the other nights. This will just get you much more exposure - your name in lights, your act advertised all over town. And I know you've been wondering what would happen after your booking ends next month."
Circe pursed her lips.
"This deal is only good for twenty-four hours. After that, you're on your own."
She looked at him, and again he felt her scrutiny.
"And I forgot to mention that you'll have to return my teammates, or the deal's off."
She made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, they'll be back. I only sent them to the MGM Lion Habitat. If your trickster friend is half the magician she thinks she is, they'll be back. Of course," she said with a smirk, "the Amazon might have to break down the wall to get in here - it's warded now."
"Destroying hotel property might not be the best way to keep your employer happy."
"Oh, all right," Circe said, pouting slightly. "I'll return them - in a minute. And I suppose I could trade the flute for this contract. But I'm afraid you're on your own with your problem. You'd need to bring me something much better in exchange."
"There's more than one way to skin a cat. But I’m not sure your new friend would appreciate that cliché."
"No, she probably wouldn't. Useful girl, though a bit obsessed with you. It's too bad I had to let your identity slip."
His voice lowered to Batman's growl. "You did what?"
"Oh, after our little encounter, I kept tabs on you, and it didn't take too long to put two and two together. Poor Selina. You know, I told her about the Tears in exchange for her help, and she was so worried about how she could expose you to them. Your outfit there leaves far too much to the imagination, more's the pity." And she winked. "She almost backed out of our deal, so I had to sweeten the pot a bit and tell her who you are when you're not cavorting on rooftops."
His lips curled into a snarl.
Circe spread her hands. "At least I told you. Now you know. Consider it a parting gift." She gestured again, and Bruce found himself holding the flute and standing in the hallway, next to Diana and Zatanna, both of whom looked extremely pissed off.
Circe's mocking laughter echoed in Bruce's head.
Part Eight