From Shadows, I Come

A Wonder Woman Fanfiction, inspired heavily by "Captain America: Winter Soldier"

Chapter One

Diana Prince had formed a routine ever since she'd settled into her cozy little apartment in Paris. Every night, after work, she would return to her home and relax; maybe turn on the radio and pour herself a glass of wine. She would eat whatever leftover take-out she had in the fridge and go to bed around 11. Everything was consistent; almost perfect for her.

What remained inconsistent were her dreams… Some nights they would be pleasant. Some nights, she would return to the warm, soft sands of Themyscira. She would revel in the sounds of the waves, the smell of the salt in the air…

Sometimes her mother would be there, sitting in silence and enjoying the sun. Other times, Antiope would be there. She would call out to Diana, encouraging her to come continue her training.

Sometimes... She would be with him again. She would be in his arms, hearing his laugh, seeing his smile...

And then, the ringing of her alarm clock would yank her away from her bittersweet dreams.

A lot had changed since the self-proclaimed "war to end all wars". The title had been ironic, since Diana had come to see at least five more wars come to fruition since. At first, it had broken her heart. But war had just become a side effect of the world Diana had integrated herself into.

But nothing could have prepared her for how the aftermath of World War l would affect her.

It was one thing to witness the horrors she'd seen. It was another thing to defeat the god of war, and come to terms with how cruel humanity could be...

But it was another thing entirely to have to relive it all over again in her dreams.

It had never been as bad as Charlie's fits had been. Much later, when Diana had learned the nature of PTSD, her heart went out to him. Knowing the things that had undoubtedly gone through the Scotsman's head made her wish she'd reached out to him just a little bit more.

After the war had ended, though, things had started to go back to normal. Sami, Charlie, and Chief had gone on to make lives for themselves. Charlie had put his love of alcohol and music too good use, eventually opening his own bar in Glasgow. Every time Diana had visited him he would be belting his heart out behind a grand piano.

Sameer had taken to the stage, living out his dream of becoming an actor. Despite facing the harsh racism, the world held for him, Sami had made a name for himself in London. The last show of his Diana had seen was Macbeth, and she had been blown away by how easily he could slip into character. He'd done Shakespeare proud.

Chief hadn't changed much. He was still a smuggler by trade, although he made significantly less money when the war ended. He had found himself wandering, not really settling down or calling one place home. The nomadic life had suited him, but he'd continued to write to Diana up until his death.

Over time, all three of them had passed; leaving Diana as the only reminder of their legacy. They had been heroes, and she was hell-bent to make sure history never forgot them.

At the very least, she never would.

The grandfather clock in the corner of Diana's living room struck midnight, warning her that she was once again staying up late. She found herself staring at the aged photograph again, resting safely between two sheets of glass nestled in a foam padded suitcase. Her fingers ran across the glass, tracing the outline of her friends.

She would have to find a way to display the piece without the risk of damaging it. She'd worked so hard to track it down; she wasn't about to let anything happen to it. For now, she decided to slip it back into the case and gently tuck it under her bed.

Just as she had straightened herself out again, the phone on her nightstand rang. Without missing a beat, she picked it up to answer it.

"Bonjour," she greeted.

"Diana?"

She paused, taken aback at first by the voice over the phone. "Bruce. I wasn't expecting you to call."

"Yeah, well," he chuckled. "I got your email. I figured it would be a good idea to check up on you. Was it delivered alright?"

"It's… It's perfect, Bruce," Diana replied, her thoughts briefly returning to the suitcase under her bed. "Truly, I am grateful. I don't know how you found it, but… Thank you."

"I managed to pull a couple strings," Bruce answered. "I had a few favors owed to me. But I'm glad I was able to get it back to where it belongs."

Diana could hear the creaking of a chair, and the sounds of shuffling over the phone, indicating Bruce adjusting himself in his seat.

"Any chance I could hear that story of yours?" he asked.

"Another time," Diana sighed. "I really should be heading to bed soon. It's getting late."

"Before you go, I have an offer for you." Bruce said. "I've been looking into those files Luthor had on those 'metahumans'. I know that we talked about reaching out to them."

"Indeed, we did. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm hosting a charity event this weekend. We can talk about it then, if you'd like."

She paused, taking a second to decipher Bruce's words. He wanted her to come to Gotham.

But for what purpose?

"Bruce…"

"I just feel like this is a conversation better suited in person," he sighed. "I'm not trying anything funny, I promise…. If we're going to assemble this team, we need to be on the same page."

Upon thinking about it, she realized that he was right. It would be hard to negotiate and assemble any sort of team whilst being in opposite countries.

"I'll put in for the time off at the museum, but please warn me earlier next time. I too can pull strings, but there's only so long one can go on doing it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bruce replied. Diana could hear a smile in his voice. "I look forward to seeing you again."

"The feelings are mutual." Diana added. "Perhaps this time I won't feel the need to break your arm."

Bruce chuckled at that, recalling his mistake of laying hands on her the first time they met. Had they not been in public, Diana surely would've cost him a hand. "I'll be polite this time. I got the message. I'll see you this weekend then."

"See you this weekend," Diana concluded, ending the call.

She collapsed back onto her bed, sighing as she stared at the ceiling.

It had only been a couple months since the death of Clark Kent; since the death of Superman. The world was still in mourning. But Diana and Bruce were taking it upon themselves to create a team to fill that void Clark had left.

Until they found these "metahumans", as Luthor had called them, it was up to Batman and Wonder Woman to remain as beacons of hope for mankind.

It was more than a little overwhelming at times. But it was Diana's duty as both an Amazon, and to herself.

She reached over to her nightstand, turning off the lamp before slipping under her soft blankets. She let the sounds of the streets below her gently lull her to sleep.

Upon ending his call with Diana, Bruce Wayne found himself sitting back in his overstuffed leather chair and staring at his computer screens before him. The profiles of three men sat projected on the screen: Arthur Curry, Barry Allen, and Victor Stone. He had their names and faces, but tracking them down and recruiting them would prove to be a challenge. If he was going to keep the persona of Batman separate from Bruce Wayne, he had to go about the next steps carefully.

He couldn't just go waltzing into wherever on Earth these men were and wave around the Bat Signal. He needed to be strategic. He had to find a way to convince them.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes as the strain from staring at the screens set in.

"Another late night, Master Wayne?"

Bruce turned his gaze towards his butler and personal caretaker, Alfred Pennyworth, holding out a mug of coffee for him.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce sighed, taking the mug from him. "I was just looking over the profiles again. Trying to think about what my next move should be."

"I see," Alfred replied. "Shall we be expecting Miss Prince this weekend?"

Bruce nodded. "Prepare a room for her, if you could. "

"Anything else before I retire for the evening, Sir?"

"That will be all. I'll come to bed soon."

Alfred strolled off without saying another word.

After Bruce had finished up his coffee, he found himself wandering the halls of the Bat Cave lost in thought. There was a lot of weight on his shoulders now, both as himself and Batman. He could only imagine what it felt like for Diana.

A familiar shock of red and yellow caught Bruce's eye, and he paused his walk to turn and face it.

Staring back at him was his greatest failure, encased in glass and graffitied in yellow spray paint. He could see where the crowbar had torn through the leather. The suit was worn and singed from the explosion of the bomb that took the life of a boy he'd considered his son.

The suit was a constant reminder of how he'd failed, and he refused to fail like that ever again.

He let his hand fall onto the glass and looked back up at the tattered Robin suit.

"I'm sorry, Jason," he mumbled. "I'll make this right, I promise."

Once he and Diana assembled this team, the world would never have to worry about Jokers or Doomsdays, or Lex Luthors ever again.

Bruce brought his hand back down to his side and walked away from the glass. In silence, he made his way to the elevator and took it back up to his manor.

After this fundraiser, he wouldn't procrastinate anymore.

After this week, the Justice League would come to life.

Nothing was going to stop him from making things right.

Not this time.

A/N: Hi everybody! I'm sure you're all wondering what's been going on with my other stories. For right now, consider them on hiatus. I've been struggling to write for about a year and a half now, but I've finally got my inspiration back! So, for now, I hope you guys enjoy this story. I'll be updating it on here, and eventually on AO3 as well. Until then, feel free to review. This chapter was a teensy bit short, but it's setting up the plot more than anything.