Fic: Splintered, Part 5.3
And, now, the conclusion to Part Five:
Part 5.2
Time slowed to a standstill…
…until he murmured "As you wish," and kissed her. She returned his kiss with equal passion, as if claiming him with her lips.
He was surprised at how fierce, how primal this intimacy was; far different than the kiss they’d shared for the paparazzi’s benefit. He closed his eyes, reveling in the taste of her lips, the vague awareness even through the Batsuit of her warm body pressed against his.
She tugged at his cowl, removing it, then kissed the marks it had left on his face. The eighteen-year-old boy inside him wanted nothing more than to feel those lips everywhere, to caress her perfect body, to meld into one. His pulse raced in anticipation.
He guided her to his large leather chair, sat, then pulled her onto his lap.
He explored her breastplate, finding its hidden closure.
He shivered as she licked the sensitive part of his neck - and how did she know to do that? Hardly missing a beat, she reached around behind him and found the fastenings, and he heard his cape slide to the floor.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her flawless breasts.
Diana shifted on his lap until she was straddling him, pinning him to the chair. His breath caught again - or was that a tightness in his chest?
Not now...
He forced himself to focus, to summon the calming images as J’onn had taught him.
You’re safe. It’s all right.
But then he heard it; a thin, faraway wail. He raised his head abruptly.
Just a memory. Ignore it.
But the cry grew louder. And even though he buried his face in her hair, inhaling its orchid scent, he couldn’t shut out the sound. He could feel his hands tremble, his stomach churn.
Not now…please.
He tried to banish the dark thoughts by focusing on the moment, but to no avail. Then it happened - the gunshots echoed in his mind. And the eight-year-old boy inside him wanted nothing more than to flee from the memories, to shove them away if necessary.
And his arms thrust out, knocking Diana off his lap. She had to float away to keep from falling to the cave floor.
"Bruce! What in Hera’s name -"
"It’s all right," he managed to say.
"It doesn’t look all right. What happened?"
His throat closed; he felt like he was drowning.
Diana rushed to him, panic creeping into her voice. "Bruce, what’s happening?! Are you - did I -"
A disconnected part of him noticed he was fighting for breath.
She tried to cradle his head, but he moved it away. "Bruce, I thought you… I thought you wanted this." Her face softened, became sad.
"No. I mean… I mean…" He looked about, helplessly. "I can’t… Oh God, I thought…"
"You thought…?"
"I thought I… I thought we -" His throat closed again.
He didn’t want to tell her.
He had to tell her.
He couldn’t tell her… but he couldn’t let her believe that his problem was somehow her fault.
But she could make him tell her.
Forcing air through his narrowed throat, he managed to get out the word "Lasso."
She looked at him for a moment, and then he saw understanding cross her face. But then her brow furrowed. "Are you sure? You don’t have to do this for me."
"I want to." I have to.
With a quick gesture, she shrunk the loop of the lasso. She sat on his lap again, took his hand and gently slipped the loop over his wrist.
So this is how it feels, Bruce thought in wonderment. Suddenly, it seemed as if Mount Olympus itself were speaking.
"Bruce." Her voice was like a roaring waterfall.
"Yes?"
"Is there no other way for you to tell me what you want to tell me?"
The pressure on his throat eased slightly. "No."
She sighed. "I don’t like doing this to you."
"Can’t be helped."
"All right." She cleared her throat. "Why did you push me away?"
The words flowed from his lips. "I was scared."
"What were you scared of?"
"The screams."
She frowned, puzzled. "What screams?"
"Annika. She’s screaming."
"Who is Annika?"
"A prostitute in Amsterdam."
Diana’s lip curled in disdain. "Why was Annika screaming?"
"She was shot."
"You saw this?"
"I… no, Dani saw it and told me."
"Who is Dani?"
"Another prostitute at the brothel."
Diana’s eyebrow shot up. "You were at a brothel?"
"Yes. Dani and Annika worked there."
She swallowed hard. "You were…undercover. Right?"
"No. I was a customer."
Her eyes flashed. "Selina not enough?" she growled.
"Selina would be enough, if she didn’t think herself above the law. And cattiness does not become you, Princess." He paused. "I didn’t know Selina Kyle at the time."
"Wait - at the time? When did this happen?"
"Twenty years ago."
Diana’s jaw dropped; she almost let go of the lasso. "Tw-twenty years ago?!"
"Yes."
"Who - what - you heard Annika get shot. Dani told you she was shot. Correct?"
"Correct."
"You were scared?"
"I was terrified."
Diana’s face softened. "Why were you so scared?"
"I was eighteen. The gunshots reminded me of… reminded me of…" He was sweating.
"Bruce! I withdraw the question."
His breathing eased.
"You were scared."
"Yes." His face relaxed.
"You were -" her mouth sounded dry. "- you were making love to - to Dani at the time?"
"Not exactly."
Diana glared at him. "Bruce, don’t you dare make light of this."
Bruce felt a numbing sense of confusion descend on him, like a blanket of lead. "I don’t know how to do what you’re asking." It was a panicky feeling, like he had been ordered to turn his eyes inward into his skull. "I will… I mean, I -"
"Bruce! Bruce, that was not a command. I withdraw the question!" She was distraught. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask something abstract… So, you were, um, erotically engaged at the time in some way?"
"Yes."
"So…" She bit her lip.
He glanced down at her hands, and noticed that her palms were sweaty.
"So…" she began again, now looking away from him. "You heard the gunshots while you were…occupied?"
"Yes."
"And just now," she said, swallowing, "you heard the gunshots again?"
"Yes."
"Did you know this would happen?"
"I hoped it wouldn’t happen this time."
"It’s happened before?"
"Yes."
"Does it always happen?"
"Yes."
"Even with - with Selina?"
"Yes."
"But you said you and she were lovers. How could you be involved with her if you can’t -"
"I wasn’t involved with her."
She checked to make sure that the lasso was still encircling his wrist. "I don’t understand…?"
"I wasn’t involved with her. She just thinks I was."
"She just thinks you were?" Diana laughed briefly, but the mirth didn’t reach her eyes. "What, did you put a spell on her or something?"
"It wasn’t a spell."
"What did you do, then?"
Even though the lasso compelled him to speak, it couldn’t help him meet her eyes. He heard himself describe everything, beginning with his long-ago encounter with Zatanna.
Diana listened in silence. He wondered what she was thinking.
He concluded, "And Mariel left in a cab. I hadn’t seen her again until that night at the play.
"I see." She was quiet for a while. He could see the tension in her face as she started to speak a couple of times, but stopped.
Finally, in a rush of words, she asked, "Were you planning on doing the same thing to me that you did to all of those other women?" Her bravado gone, she sounded small, hurt.
His mouth opened on its own. "I wasn’t planning to."
She leaned back in surprise. "Why not?" she demanded.
"I think I love you."
Diana rose and walked slowly over to the workbench that bore the imprint of her hand. Her arms were crossed in front of her. She looked down and whispered, almost to herself, her face ashen, "Who are you?"
"I don’t know."
Stunned, she whirled around. Her right hand still held the lasso in a white-knuckled grip.
She dropped the lasso, sat down next to Bruce, and started to cry.
Part 6.1