John Stewart is slumped back against a chair, jaw slacked and eyes wide in astonishment as he sifts through the files at the database archived at the Watchtower
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She's standing in front of what should be her home. Her home, which should be alive with light and welcoming. With familiar faces, people that she sees as her family.
Instead, all is dark. No lights, no sound, windows shuttered, door locked tight.
The sense of wrongness that has been filtering through everything since the fight at the Rock sharpens, and Diana frowns. Time to set things back to right.
"Watchtower -- one to transport." A moment later she shimmers out of view, and reappears on the teleport pad. Immediately she's off her feet and flying to the Monitor womb.
When they emerge, they will be in a place neither one of them recognizes.
Although John places the view of the city below the high rise as Detroit, after a moment of confusion.
The decor of the place is very clean and organized, almost military in precision... and it's also filled with a great deal of Themysciran tapestries, wall-mounted weapons and various personal items that belong to Diana, as well as John's framed stylized images of Miles Davis and John Coltrane, among others.
John blinks a few times.
"Are we sure we're not in another dimension? The ring says we're not, but... uh..."
"Those are... that's..." Diana is stopped dead in the middle of the room, eyebrows drawn together as she surveys it all. A few seconds, and then,
"Ares' teeth! What is going on here?" Her voice echoes from the walls, filled with frustration and anger. This is just one more unexpected event, a part of her life that has been torn away.
"If this is another dimension, I would like for you to open that portal and take us back, please." Diana still is frustrated, and as she circles the room, has to wonder if any of this is real.
But this, these tapestries, these are hers. She wouldn't put them up here, unless...
"I am certain that they would be wrong. And you are being far too hard on yourself." The look she's giving him -- like she might just begin to scold him for running in the halls, or writing on his desk.
"Thank you, John. Now I should let you get back to what you were doing -- if I lived here, there will be tea somewhere in this kitchen..." She straightens up and runs a hand through her hair, stretching, and then makes shooing motions with her hands.
"Out. I will be alright." She's laughing, a little.
Were his thoughts that obvious? Or were they that unsettling to her?
No. Come on, dumbass. You lost a year of your life. Time to go about rebuilding it instead of watching a beautiful, heretofore unattainable woman fumble about in the kitchen you somehow share.
"Duty calls."
A deep breath, and he heads back through the apartment, finding what looks to be his home office and sitting down in his old comfy chair to start poring through the books of Shining Light Architecture and figuring out when and why he moved from New York to Detroit.
I should really get in the habit of keeping a journal.
For her own, Diana finally finds the tea and sets to preparing it. While the water boils, she rubs the tea bag between her fingers, breathing in the crisp mint aroma.
This was going to take some time, for the two of them to figure out what they're missing both as heroes as well as in their personal lives.
She was going to take some time and curl up on the couch, however. Time to calm her thoughts.
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She's standing in front of what should be her home. Her home, which should be alive with light and welcoming. With familiar faces, people that she sees as her family.
Instead, all is dark. No lights, no sound, windows shuttered, door locked tight.
The sense of wrongness that has been filtering through everything since the fight at the Rock sharpens, and Diana frowns. Time to set things back to right.
"Watchtower -- one to transport." A moment later she shimmers out of view, and reappears on the teleport pad. Immediately she's off her feet and flying to the Monitor womb.
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Looking more than a bit devastated as he clicks through files almost blankly.
Trying to discern the last thing he remembers.
He doesn't notice her arrival.
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It takes him a moment to find words.
"I... it's gone. At least a year of my life is gone."
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Although John places the view of the city below the high rise as Detroit, after a moment of confusion.
The decor of the place is very clean and organized, almost military in precision... and it's also filled with a great deal of Themysciran tapestries, wall-mounted weapons and various personal items that belong to Diana, as well as John's framed stylized images of Miles Davis and John Coltrane, among others.
John blinks a few times.
"Are we sure we're not in another dimension? The ring says we're not, but... uh..."
Reply
"Ares' teeth! What is going on here?" Her voice echoes from the walls, filled with frustration and anger. This is just one more unexpected event, a part of her life that has been torn away.
A part of hers, and a part of John's.
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There are two, but only one of them has a bed in it. A queen sized bed.
A closet full of suits and a Tigers jersey, alongside chitons and... a star-spangled uniform.
His brain almost leaks out his ears as it dawns on him.
"How in the world... ?" he whispers, incredulously, to himself.
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But this, these tapestries, these are hers. She wouldn't put them up here, unless...
Unless. Could they have...?
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"For the moment. I'm sure there are people out there who'll think the same of you being with me."
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She's very good at that.
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"I didn't say they'd be right."
Another brush of his fingers through her hair.
"Okay, if this is going to be a curse-breaker, we've got to believe in it."
He says, as if he knows what he's talking about.
"Believe that, in a year's time, we became crazy enough about each other to move in together."
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"What you showed me, earlier. What I saw there, the two of... well, I suppose us, there was love there. That... that I can believe in."
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"Out. I will be alright." She's laughing, a little.
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Were his thoughts that obvious? Or were they that unsettling to her?
No. Come on, dumbass. You lost a year of your life. Time to go about rebuilding it instead of watching a beautiful, heretofore unattainable woman fumble about in the kitchen you somehow share.
"Duty calls."
A deep breath, and he heads back through the apartment, finding what looks to be his home office and sitting down in his old comfy chair to start poring through the books of Shining Light Architecture and figuring out when and why he moved from New York to Detroit.
I should really get in the habit of keeping a journal.
Reply
This was going to take some time, for the two of them to figure out what they're missing both as heroes as well as in their personal lives.
She was going to take some time and curl up on the couch, however. Time to calm her thoughts.
Reply
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