A/N: I'm trying really hard not to get my hopes up for some Wonderbat in Justice League. I'm failing. So, this is set in that universe, but I have no idea when or where, given that I've not seen the film yet. Enjoy!

Battle Scars

"This one?"

"Dog bite. My turn?"

A smile and nod of assent.

"What about this one?"

"Tank shell."

A raised eyebrow, a request for more information.

"Panzer III, 1941, North Africa. The Nazis took exception to the liberation of Tobruk."

"Funny how the British left you out of the history books there."

"I asked Monty to make sure I was." A hand wanders leisurely up a torso. "This one."

"Training injury. My first encounter with shurikens. Hey, don't laugh!"

"I can't help it! How old were you?"

"Twenty."

"Too old, too old …"

"Easy for you to say. This one?"

"Would you believe a horse kicked me?"

"Must have been a hell of a horse."

"I was quite small. This one."

The levity disappears from the situation. The mark in question is obviously a bullet wound, round and flat and shiny. Upper chest. Near-fatal. Old. "My … ward. He was murdered. I couldn't stop it."

"I'm so sorry. How did it happen?"

"Not smart enough. Not quick enough. Not anything enough."

"That's not true."

"Wouldn't have happened if you were there." This is said without bitterness or insincerity. Their fingers lace together, tenderness replacing pain. "You have so much wisdom."

"Well, age brings wisdom."

"Oh, that explains the wrinkles."

"Think you'll find you're the one going grey here."

A hand traces down a body, to what looks like a long, thin, old, burn. "This one?"

"I tried to cook my mother breakfast once. There … may have been a small forest fire."

"Age brings wisdom, huh?"

"I was six!"

"What about this one?"

"Which one?"

"Pretty sure I saw one up here."

A laugh. "It must be a very small."

A dark-haired head disappears beneath the bedsheets. "Needs further investigation."

"Bruce … Bruce!"

His head reappears. "Yes, Diana?"

A kiss, passionate and full.

She grins. "Did I say stop?"