IV

You're Strong

:::

September 13th 2016: The Daily Planet

(Two days later)

When one started off alone, solitude passed like a wisp of sad wind. It was this that The Man Of Tomorrow thought as he stared at the phone machine stationed on his desk, amongst the various scattered newspaper articles and the littered chocolate wrappers cutesy of Olsen of course. His fingers found the abandoned slip of a plastic sleeve, absently fingering the material before flipping it over to get a better look.

Bruce Wayne bags American Beauty Queen, the title screamed and his brows tightened.

He was due to drop the article on Perry's desk before noon, half an hour until now. And yet Clark couldn't bring himself to do so, for the better part of the morning he had found himself moping around the office. And how pathetic it was. It had been two days, and Clark was already desperate to erase her. He wanted to peel of every piece of Diana Prince that had managed to work it's way under his skin, unravel the tightly spun thread of memories of her eyes glinting as she blew him off, the imprint of his lips scalding hers, her breath mingling with his, that husky delicious rasp - even when she was mocking him with that haughty phrase: You're incorrigible.

Everywhere he looked, Diana was there: glaring at him with those sparkling blue eyes, brushing back an errant strand of her black locks behind her ear, the smell of wild orchids and fire that so often followed her around smothering his senses, to the point that he would find himself checking his clothes for any physical imprint of her. Clark grimaced, rubbing his temples to ease his mind of the memory. An ache had begun to form there, making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything.

She was strong.

Diana . . . was strong!

But it couldn't be possible. Surely this was some sort of fictitious dream? Clark shook his head, dream. . . no, he could've laughed at that. It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare and he wanted to wake up. Clark had once thought that the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen was an ascending sunrise and an empty open sky, a hazy-headed aloneness that made him forget who he was, that made him momentarily disappear.

But apparently, his heart had begged to differ.

Whether it had been fate, or simply just coincidence. Diana Prince had come storming into his life like a whirlwind of fierceness and enigma, awakening a burning passion within him that Clark had thought long since dead. Perished along with the end of his to-brief-to-call-anything affair with Lois Lane a couple odd years back. It wasn't the fact that Diana was merely just a pretty face, although that didn't hurt either. But when she looked at him, Clark had felt like she was touching his soul. And in an odd, twisted sort of way, he supposed she was.

But Diana was not who he'd thought she was.

Clark had only ever been hit that hard twice in his life, and both times it had been at the hands of Darkseid. That was a wound to any man's pride, and Clark had to admit it stung him. Of course, His first instinct had been to choose rage over solitude, to wither the hurricane of his hurt until it managed to numb itself down so that he could at least collect his thoughts.

But when the world had eventually snapped back into place again around him, it was a chilling world indeed.

Clark had allowed the wound of Diana's betrayal to fester for weeks, and he had spent days being mad at her. Only to conclude that the person he was really angry at was himself - for not seeing it sooner - had he really been so blind? The answer was a cruel shrug in a hundred fleeting moments. Only now, in the cold light of day, did he truly understand what he needed from her. He shook his head ruefully, his fingers spreading across his eyes in exasperation.

He needed answers, it was that simple.

"I'm not most women."

Clark's heart stopped before picking up ten times the pace. He glanced around for the familiar dark curls, the pink heart-shaped little smirk, pristinely tucked away for the rare occasions she would let him see that side of her, all satin entwined with lace, all fierceness dripped in sin. But it wasn't Diana at all.

It was Lois who snapped.

"I said, Perry was only too pleased to accept." The article landed on his desk with a sharp smack. It was the same tabloid scoop that had been taunting Clark for most of his morning, inked with the same crass words penned by none other than Lois herself. Decorated with that same dazzling photograph captured and selected by Jimmy Olsen. Diana looked ethereal in the picture, that glossy dark hair glowing with highlights under the flare of crystal chandeliers, her skin bronze and vibrant rose - the picture of health. She held her pink dress up to her chest in the picture, white teeth bared to Bruce as he appraised her figure.

And the hits just kept on coming.

Clark's heart ached, and he realized that he didn't know what to feel anymore. He let out a shallow breath before glancing away from the offending article. He didn't even have to look at Lois to know that she wasn't in the mood. "I could've told you that, Lois." he retorted after a moment, gesturing towards the article albeit dryly. "You beat me to it I see."

"I did. No thanks to you." Lois hissed, furiously waving her hands. "You've been slacking lately, Smallville. It has to stop."

Clark suppressed a groan, here we go. He'd hoped that it would be a quiet day in the office today, but apparently it was not to be. He briefly wondered if he could get away with pretending he hadn't heard her, but he only imagined that it would make things worse. "Lois, I'm not- "

"Please Smallville, humour me. Ever since Perry brought in that agent from DOMA you've been acting like a crushed out school boy." As always Lois proved to be sharp, efficient, everything that in that moment he hated.

Clark tensed, not bothering to glance up at the sound of Lois's pitchy tone. He let out a long breath. "Don't start, Lois."

Lois huffed. "Start what?"

Clark cocked a brow, finally meeting her gaze. "You know what."

Lois suddenly looked peeved. It never did seize to amaze him how Lois could go from the most witty person in the world to a raging harpy. It had been the same fire that had drawn him to her when they'd first met. "This is affecting your work, Clark." she finally exploded, garnering a few curious looks from their colleagues. She sucked in an impatient breath, before lowering her tone. "You need to get a grip. It's not just your career on the line here."

Clark flushed guiltily, his hand finding purchase on the back of his neck. "Lois."

"I got that article to Perry for us by the skin of my teeth at my own expense. All because you're to busy wondering when Agent Prince is going to come swanning in here next." Lois barked, her impatience growing by the second. "I'm sick of waiting for you to get your Kansas boy ass together. "

Clark's lips tightened at the mention of Diana, his eyes fell to the article again and he swallowed thickly. He managed. "I'm sorry, Lois."

Lois waved him off. "Whatever, Smallville. Save that country mouse look for someone who will give a damn." she seethed, and then took a moment to select what she had suspected all along. So. . . it was true then. Smallville, was in a flux. The dark hair said it all, the strands standing on end keenly, as if someone had taken their fingers and swept it right on through. He looked rumpled and his clothes looked like they hadn't been ironed in days. Lois shook her head in disbelief, she could see that he was only half listening to her, and it irritated her to no end. She barked out a laugh. "Oh . . . I'm sorry am I boring you, Clark?"

"No more than usual, Lois." Clark muttered, dryly, his stare still boring into the tabloid resting neatly on his desk.

Lois threw up her hands. "Seriously, Clark. You're jeopardizing working at the world's most prestigious newspaper. The Daily freaking planet!" she shook her head, incredulously. "I swear ever since that damn agent - "

Clark felt himself go hot with anger. "What is with the sudden fascination about what happens between Agent Prince and I?" he interrupted, he had finally had enough. "Haven't you got your own personal affairs to worry about?"

Lois blinked, then straightened, lithe arms folding themselves across her chest. "Excuse me?"

Clark wasn't pulling any punches. He'd had just about enough of Lois's sharp tongue this morning, and with the whole Diana debacle still fresh on his plate, Lois's incessant ranting was only adding to his darkening mood. "That's a loaded question, Lois." Clark said, his tone sharp. ". . . Jonathan Carroll."

Lois's cheeks reddened in both anger and embarrassment, her finely arched brows flew up. Jonathan Carroll, was a city born import who had been working at the Daily Planet for almost as long as he. And anyone around here would have to be an idiot not to notice Lois shimmying her way into his office after hours; for a not-so-secret rendezvous. Jonathan was cool looking in a classic Hollywood sort of way and had golden blond hair to match that saga boy charm of his. Every time Clark looked in his direction, he'd sworn he saw horns. "What are you implying?" Lois finally managed to splutter out.

"Said the pot to the kettle. Humour me, Lois." Clark hissed, pushing away from the desk. He was furious as he snatched up the article and Lois must've realized this because she took a huge step backward. "Not that it is any of your business. But whatever there is or was between Agent Prince and I has sailed. We were to different, and It didn't seem appropriate to try and mix business with pleasure." Bitterness had him shockingly blunt, but he couldn't stop. Lois had been treading on thin ice with him ever since that day back at Bernie's Rooftop Deck, when she had attempted to thwart his advantages with Diana. It ended today, Clark continued. "So . . . thank you for the running commentary, Lois. But It isn't appreciated."

Lois's jaw dropped. "Clark - "

"No, Lois. I've said all I've needed to say on the matter." Clark interjected, shoving the crinkled article into her hands with a gentle push. "Carry our weight, please."

Lois's lips parted in shock, her nostrils flaring out in obvious irritation. Her dainty fists seemed to tighten around the paper until it crumpled within her grasp and for a brief moment Clark wondered if she would stomp her foot in petulance.

But for once, there was no witty comeback, no smart mouthed retort.

For the first time ever, Lois Lane was completely lost for words. A harsh scoff fell from her lips and she spun on her heels, fleeing from the office space and pushing back into one of the main board rooms.

And that was the end of that.

Clark slumped back down into his seat and watched her go. He breathed a small sigh of relief and swallowed down a swell of unwelcome guilt. Lois was right really, he'd become somewhat of a lovelorn fool in the last few weeks and it was starting to take it's toll on his work. Clark would never admit to it but he had been incredibly selfish lately, and rightfully so. Even Superman deserved to mourn the loss of something that in all honest he'd never really had.

Clark pursed his lips, thoughtfully.

Lois hadn't deserved that, no matter how good it'd felt. In a way he supposed that it had felt better to deflect on another rather than address the sting of Diana's betrayal head on. Lois may have only been stating her opinion on the matter, but he knew one thing for certain, that woman was damn good at her job, infuriatingly so.

Clark yanked at the tie around his neck, pulling on the material until it loosened, falling in a graceful heap at the collar of his oxford. Was it possible that this day could get any worse? He pondered on it for a minute before quickly concluding that it was highly imaginable. Clark couldn't place his finger on it, but something was telling him that this was only just the beginning. His lips parted on a sigh as he pressed himself further into his chair, slumping until he was almost certain that all the bones in his body had disappeared. Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dammit."

What a mess.

It wasn't enough that Diana Prince had been haunting his dreams for the past two weeks, but now the absence of her was everywhere he looked. The woman had bewitched him for life.

Clark frowned, sitting up as a glint of black and white ink caught his eye from beneath his shoe. The tabloid. Lois must've dropped it in her fury as she'd fled from the office. Clark lifted his foot, bending to retrieve the crumpled sheet, his hands threatened to tremble as he unravelled the paper carefully. Even if he had seen the photograph one hundred times this morning, Clark still found his breath soaring from his lungs. God, Diana looked so beautiful in that photo. That kind of beauty was much too frightening to be natural, he guessed he should've realized it sooner - the truth had quite literally been staring him in the face the entire time.

No one had the right to be that beautiful.

Clark swept his tongue across his lower lip, then shook his head. Did he truly have a right to feel this way? Frustrating as it was. He had to remember that he was Superman for crying out loud! He lied to people daily.

With his mind starting to clear, it was becoming apparent to him that Diana's deceit was nothing he hadn't done, hell, he was doing it right now, living under a faux guise amongst the people of this city. Of this world for that matter.

It would've been way to simple to turn the other cheek, let by gone be by gones, as Pa Kent use to be so fond of telling him. But he was Superman, and he didn't have time for chance encounters and hopeless dreaming. The white picket fence, the wife, the kid. . . it was all just some cliche American dream. Impossible for someone like him. An alien. Clark supposed he would never quite make peace with the idea of that.

But eventually he'd find a way to accept it.

His fantasy was empty, his sanctuary was miles and miles away, and his heart felt as if it had been trampled on by a stampede of emotions. Clark looked away from the slip of paper, unable to look upon it for a second longer. He felt anger froth to the fore once again. He should have known it was too good to be true, even then, even at the height of their twisted little relationship.

Yet somehow, in the now, in an an epic battle between mind and heart: Clark made up his mind. Perhaps he'd always known what he'd needed to do.

What he needed from her.

There was one last moment of choice, and then Clark committed himself. He stretched out a hand to the small telephone resting beside his computer and picked it up. But even as his fingers pushed the buttons, dialled the number, his mind threw a mocking question at him.

Had Diana known his true identity this entire time?

:::

The Department Of Meta Human Affairs:

Same day . . .

"This is obscene!" Luther growled, gulping down his second glass of sparkling for the day. He took a moment to let the substance tickle in his throat, and then held up the paper with eyes that threatened to tear it apart. "Explain this, Agent."

Diana's gaze swept over the tabloid. The photograph was the same picture that had been kissing the front pages of every newspaper article in Metropolis for days now. It was making her sick. To see herself . . . like that . . . beaming, and draped in the finest silks of ashes and roses served to be of something truly distressing. In fact Diana almost found herself scowling as her mind fought to depict the similarities between the raven-haired beauty in the photograph and herself. It was a side to her that Diana hadn't even known existed up until a couple nights ago, and as terrifying as it was; the feeling of gnarling fascination was ever present.

A much more disturbing predicament.

Diana took a deep, wary breath. "Explain what?" She asked, firmly. "I've already informed you of what transpired that night."

There was a pause, and then Lex hissed. "You acted like a fool, Diana."

"I was being compromised." Diana flashed back. Of all the qualities that Dr Alexander Luthor possessed, his wilfulness proved to be the worst one. "How I acted was necessary."

Luthor didn't look to be buying it in the slightest. "So you've said." He pointed out. "But we both know that I know you better than that."

"Do you?" Diana murmured, distracted. For some reason an image of golden hair and striking blue eyes flashed through her mind, and for a moment it seemed more vivid than the dim office they were currently occupying. Diana's gaze slid away from Lex to take an interest in the ruby band wrapped innately around her slender finger. She toyed with the talisman almost absently, a pinch to her brows.

"And you would insult me like this?" Luthor hissed back. "After everything I've done for you?"

Diana's retort died on her tongue. She stared at Luthor, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She supposed that there was some logic in his words, because as much as Diana hated to admit it, Dr Luthor was right. After the benefit, she had found herself stepping into Mr Luthor's office, and present were the unshakeable nerves that plagued her whenever she was about to confront Alexander Luthor himself.

Lex waited, and when she didn't speak, he seemed to shift in his chair.

Diana bit her lip, remnants of the memory fading away. She felt odd today, almost as if she were sick as magnanimous as that sounded. Though It was more than just tension and lack of sleep. She felt slightly dizzy, and at times the ground seemed to be spongy, giving way under her feet and then springing back.

"Forgive me, my lord." Diana said, at last. She tried to fight off the image her mind wanted to show her, of Themysciran Queen arching a brow to challenge her. Of Clark Kent worming his way into her thoughts, her dreams. That somehow in the madness of all of this, Luthor without a doubt, always seemed to be a good ten steps ahead of her.

Lex hesitated, then finally nodded. "I'll consider it." He said, rather sulkily. "But I beseech you to understand what type of situation you've put us in. The Justice league could very well be collecting data on us as we speak."

Diana glanced down, suddenly ashamed. "I didn't think of that," She admitted. "I was foolish and impulsive. I should've thought before I acted."

Luthor's brows were drawn together. "Is that so?" His eyes were hard and challenging, but underneath Diana could see the calculated rage that had been festering there.

"Yes." Diana waited a moment and then added, levelly, "These last two fortnights have been quite challenging for me."

Luthor seemed to accept this. "Don't worry, my dear. It won't be long now." He said, clearing his throat. "Soon we'll have The Man Of Steel right where we want him."

"And I'll have the access you promised to grant me?" Diana said before she could stop herself.

The bald headed man almost seemed amused as he traced a non-existent pattern over the front page spread, and when his gaze met hers Diana felt her chest tighten in anticipation. His lips curled. "All in good time, my dear."

Diana struggled to contain her irritation. "I don't understand. . ." she said, carefully. "You said. . ."

"Don't upset yourself, Diana." Luthor's laughter was cruel as he pushed up from his seat. "It'll only hurt your head."

Diana's forehead creased slightly, a small line appearing between her perfectly arched brows. "But you promised." She almost shouted, losing her battle with self-control.

Lex remained unmoved. "Behave yourself, Diana."

Diana heard the threat in his words, and she knew what it meant. One more outburst, one more slip in profanity and she would earn herself a spot right back in solitary confinement. She forced herself to calm down, her eyes threatening to burn with something that she refused to acknowledge as tears. "I do not understand this world," She rasped. Her voice almost cracked, and she hated herself for it, hated the way she turned into that wild and lost little subject dragging at Mr Luthor's feet when she tried to plead her case. "Since meeting . . ." Clark. She didn't say his name, but she thought of him all the same.

Lex stepped away from his desk, a familiar spark of anger lighting his eyes. "Who?" he asked, sharply. "Superman."

Diana's mouth opened in an automatic denial, and then she stopped.

"I've warned you about what they do Diana." He huffed. "About what his capable of."

"No - "

"I trained you to be smarter than that. Smarter than them." Lex continued, and his hand cracked down against the hard wood of his desk. "Are you a weakling? Was I blind to put my faith in you?" Words battered like fists in a game Diana knew all too well. Diana's nostril's flared, Luthor's face reflecting her own as she remembered herself – three years prior, reborn to an era she didn't know.

"Remarkable. Your vitals appear to be able to sustain the concentrated fragments of Kryptonite."

"I do not understand."

"You're susceptible to the alien's weakness. It's incredible."

"The Alien?"

". . . Superman. You'll be this world's messiah, sent from the Gods themselves, created in my image. You my residual graces, confound us all."

"I am to purge this world?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And if I fail."

A deranged twist of a smile had been Luthor's reply. It'd been a subtle concept but the feature had spoken volumes.

Diana swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "My head hurts." She heard herself complain. Her voice was deeper than usual, words forced and cutting, as if she was having trouble speaking. Her fist clenched around the belt of her jacket, fingernails cutting into her skin. Broken girls could love all the way to the moon - but they'd never once forget why some pieces were missing.

Luthor's face suddenly looked as though it were softening. He stared at her for a moment before moving back around his desk to pull out one of the many draws that resided in the cabinet itself. From then he presented a white looking substance in a crystal bottle, Diana had seen it before, it was the same substance he'd usually provide her with when she'd have an episode like this.

The china cup came next, and then he added the water from the steaming kettle resting on his desk that must've been brewing there before she'd really noticed it. Diana wasn't sure what was in the liquid itself, but she knew that it never seized to make her feel better. The three fibres went together, one glorious mix in one.

Her sanctuary.

She shuddered and realized that her eyes were shut. However Luthor's voice knifed into her conscience all the same. "You know how I hate to do this, Diana."

Her eyes fluttered open to take him in, and his stare was fierce. She'd seen that look so often: how could it possibly still have the power to disturb her? But it did; it sickened her and set a slow burning in her gut. Diana grit her teeth and kept herself from looking away. Luthor was advancing now, the cup of steaming hot china locked firmly in one hand. "We're a team." He said calmly, and she suddenly felt the gnawing urge to hit him. "We need to stick together in this."

We need to stick together, Diana thought wildly. Because it was true, wasn't it? She wriggled, disturbed. But before she could say anything, Lex continued, "It's my rules, remember? . . . the world is at risk and we're the only one's who can save it."

Diana gave a perfunctory nod. "It's your rules." She echoed, her voice flat. Her head ducked to take a sip from the piping liquid, and the effect was almost instantaneous. Gods, she wast starting to feel better already. The ache in her temples began to fade, as did the worries of last nights antics, etching into one dwindling memory of a thing of the past.

Luthor looked satisfied. "Atta girl."

"What will happen now?" Diana asked, her voice even.

Lex's hand reached out to tuck a curling strand of raven behind her ear. "We carry on as planned . . ." He said on a rising note, as if he would've said more.

Diana frowned, and tried not to let the panic show on her face. "But . . . he knows of my abilities."

"And that was an error you made, Diana. However this might just serve to be a non-issue." Luther countered. "If we throw in the towel now it'll cause even more speculation. We're out of options. Trying to do this any other way would be foolhardy."

Diana felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Her mind scrambled, starting to imagine every awful scenario that could happen under the sun. She and Clark coming face to face, that awful Bruce Wayne bastard who she was sure could see right through her pushing her past any point of rationality. Suddenly Diana understood the feelings she'd been having all day.

She swallowed, feeling her stomach muscles tighten. Dread, it was a foreign concept to her and it was most unwelcome. "We need to think strategically." she murmured, instantly catching onto his line of thinking. Her eyes fell shut in realization, as she quietly resigned herself to her fate. "What do you need me to do?"

Lex rose to his feet, looking every bit the bastard Diana knew him to be. "Nothing."

Diana stared at him for a moment, eyes empty. "Excuse me?"

"I've had eyes on Mr. Double Life for years." Luthor hissed, and his dark eyes were flashing. "And one thing that I've learned Diana, is that Superman's greatest weakness isn't just Kryptonite." he faltered, if only for a second, gave her the cruel kind of smile she had nightmares about. "It's his heart."

Diana's mouth dried, and a shudder went through her. Oddly enough, disbelief was the first thing that sprang to mind. Like what Luthor was telling her was so terrible that her mind couldn't accept it. Diana's mouth dropped open to speak when her cell sounded in her pocket. She pulled it out, frowning when a message lit up on the screen.

We need to talk. Meet me at my apartment,

5 o'clock. Please.

- Clark.

The message read, pure and simple, after one missed call that looked way to threatening to be genuine. Diana's heart skipped a beat, and then came that familiar warmth she hated spreading through her gut. She swallowed, vaguely aware of Luthor watching her intently. Her ears picked apart the creek of his nails pressing into the glazed oak of his desk and when her head snapped up to look at him his eyes were wide and vibrant. Diana's voice was barely a whisper when she said, "It's him."

Lex slapped his palms together in glee. "Like clockwork." he rejoiced, gesturing towards the phone. "Well? what are you waiting for, Diana. Respond."

Diana hardly heard him when he spoke, too focused on the words blinking up at her. She pressed her lips together, her thumbs poised to type back a reply but then she remembered something, just a flash: looking up at Bruce Wayne's face at the Gala that night and feeling such-such hatred, such loathing for him. As if he understood the flame that burned inside her as nobody else ever could. As if he saw a monster.

He already knew, Diana realized with nightmare calmness and if Mr Wayne had known then she had every reason to believe that The Justice League was already conspiring against them. "It could be a trap." she said, without really thinking about it.

Luthor didn't even bat an eyelid. "And if it is . . ." he said in an artificially calm voice. "You know what you have to do."

Diana looked martyred, but her heart was no longer merely cold; it was ice. "Best defence is a good offense." she said, promptly tucking the phone out of sight.

Luthor gave her an appeased look before pushing away from his desk, his hand reaching for the dainty silver bell resting there. He gave it a firm tap, and not a moment later a little woman with red hair and an attire similar to her own scuttled in with his belongings. Luthor spread his arms allowing the woman to pull the coat over him. "I'll be leaving now, Diana. There are errands that I need to commit too." he announced, patting down the creases in the material.

Not that she needed any explanation at all, she had seen him perform this mundane task too many times by now to know what it meant. Diana watched as the woman handed him his briefcase before quickly moving to the door to pull it open for him. Luthor gave her one last complacent look before moving past her, and Diana found herself turning to gaze after him.

"Duty calls." he called over his shoulder without really glancing back, and Diana winced as the door slammed on her. Leaving her alone with nothing but the thoughts in her head and the thudding of her own heart. Diana let out the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.

It was simple or at least it should've been. Get in and get out, her head told but her stupid heart was another matter.

Diana's mind appeared to be running on another track. Now in the silence of it, in the stillness, Diana finally had a chance to hash out where she hadn't let her mind wander too. Clark. She hadn't quite considered what she would do when she saw him again. It was one thing answering a text message, hell, even conversing on a phone would have surfaced; but too see someone in person was another thing all together. She sighed, doing everything she could not to let her mind go there, but the little flashes of memories wouldn't go away.

They stayed with her, conflicted her, and to give in would be to surrender. Only a weakling would allow themselves to succumb to such a foolish decision.

And a weakling she was not.

:::

Elsewhere, Location unknown . . .

A scream sounded, ripping through the air in one terrible swell of noise. Dr Mikael Striker took a moment to bristle at his creation. He was magnificent. All long lean muscles and skin like burnished ivory, his moonlight-blond hair damp with sweat curling just short of his shoulders. He twitched in the chair, nails biting into the metals of the arms leaving rivets in their wake. The man lunged forward, slumping in on himself heavily, he was sucking in great whistling breaths, his chest heaving.

"Расслабьтесь." The woman known as Corporal Fedorov ordered, flicking at the needle in her hand. She scooted closer in her chair; her fingers finding the spot between the blond's bicep and forearm before gently inserting the substance that would provide him oblivion. "это оно."

"Это не будет долго," Striker murmured, softly. Watching as his most trusted second pushed the syringe that much farther into the man's arm. This wasn't an isolated incident, and it tended to happen a lot after subject zero awoke from Kryo sleep. He'd often wake up in a state of bafflement before quickly succumbing to hysteria, and it never normally took any longer than a few minutes to get him to remember where he was, but today it seemed to be taking a lot longer than they would've liked.

"It's so cold." the sweltering man shuddered through quivering lips. "It hurts!" He grunted at the sharp pain that shot through his arm, his lips parting on another cry as he reeled away. Dr Striker pushed forward, shoving aside one of the medical carts before delivering a hard smack to subject zero's face.

"фокус!" he commanded, fiercely. He grabbed hold of his chin, thrusting up his face so that he could see his eyes. "Где ты?"

"I . . . Ares . . ." Subject zero's voice was taut and choked. He whispered, hoarsely. "Diana."

Dr Striker snarled, giving his chin a firm shake. "фокус!" he repeated, before seamlessly dropping out of his mother tongue. "Mission Report, November 12th 1918."

"Do I need to get the book, Doctor?" Corporal Fedorov asked, alarmed. She seemed to have paled considerably, and she was looking at subject zero with muted dread. In any case, the book was only needed in an exceptional situation and if he couldn't manage to get subject zero coherent again by the next few moments, the book he would need indeed. They had altered this man to be an enhanced soldier of justice, with a strength that in their sessions would come to self-proclaim itself as godlike. If he managed to get free during this state of duress he'd kill them all.

Dr Striker shook his head. "No . . . He's just a little disorientated." he explained, gazing at subject zero with determined eyes. "He will be a little clearer in a moment."

Subject zero continued to spasm, knuckles flexing and clenching as he tried to gather himself. However, Dr Striker remained extraordinarily calm. "That's it." He whispered, in a tone that was much to devious to be soothing. "Breathe . . . there we go."

Corporal Fedorov let herself relax ever so slightly. "Sir . . ." she began, fumbling for some of the notes resting on the metal carousel not to far from them. "Sergeant Steel, of Department X was in touch earlier today. Correct me if I'm wrong but am I right in assuming that subject zero's next bounty will be The Winter Soldier?"

She splayed the papers out before her, in a better attempt to understand what she was dealing with. Then turned to Dr Striker with questioning eyes.

Dr Striker's gaze remained stationed on the trembling man before him and he answered without even sparing her a glance; like she was just some sort of inconvenient irritation sent to play messenger in a game that she didn't understand. His tone was flat. "Yes."

"And subject zero is to take her from Luthor by force?" She asked, before she could stop herself.

Striker sighed. "Call it an eye for an eye, Corporal." he hissed out, his voice a harsh whisper. "I only want what Alexander Luthor stole from me."

"And I understand that sir, but - "

"Subject zero, is the key to unravelling a breakthrough this company's been working on for years." He interrupted. "He will be the one to deliver her to us."

Fedorov bit her lip, worried. "But his episodes are getting worse, sir. His mental state is deteriorating."

"And this scares you." Striker murmured, and it wasn't a question.

"From what I understand. This man loved her once." She stammered, excitedly. With sick dismay this realization finally came home to Corporal Fedorov. "Seeing her at The Wayne benefit the other night was a trigger. The closer he gets to her, the more at risk he is of falling into a mental defective state."

"Then I will be sure to notify Nurse Lundt to up the dosage." He concluded. "You can assure Sergeant Steel that this will not happen again. You have nothing to fear . . . he is contained."

"And what if he's not?" She challenged, shooting a quick glance to the now suspiciously silent man strapped to the chair.

Subject Zero's demented shrieks had stopped as if it had been cut with a knife and he was staring straight ahead, his pupils pinpoints, unseeing. It was as if somebody had taken a board mark wiper and swiped it across his mind leaving him in a near vegetative state. Dr Striker's face twitched into a smile. "солдат?"

"Gotov podchinit'sya." That voice came, and the sound made Corporal Fedorov's blood run cold.

"Mission Report, November 12th 1918 . . ."

Corporal Fedorov watched the exchange between the pair, sickened. She was sure she stopped breathing when Dr Striker's gaze slid away from subject zero's prone form to look at her. "Send for Nurse Lundt to have him cleaned up." he ordered, absently tracing his hand over the man's bionic arm. "Он готов."

:::

Mount Etna, Olympus

A higher plane . . .

Aphrodite smirked, clutching a glass of one of the finest wines in all of Olympus in one delicate hand. Her smile widened as she heard her temples doors burst open, booming footsteps that she knew all to well smacking against the marbles floors of her chambers. The glow of gold was unmistakable, lighting the room up like a beacon. Oh yes, it appeared that brother had gotten her message after all. "Aphrodite." Hermes hissed, as he came to a halt before her. "What is the meaning of this?"

Aphrodite seemed nonplussed by his black mood, and let herself stretch out much like a sated kitten on the satin chase she'd been occupying. "Brother, how charming of you to grace me with your presence." she purred, and she twisted off a curlicue of fern from one of the branches dangling in her line of vision. She gave Hermes what was undoubtedly meant to be a nonchalant look, but Hermes detected the vicious gloating beneath.

He was visibly impatient. "You summoned me."

"I did." Aphrodite confirmed, her eyes twinkling in a way that would be dangerous on their father. Her breathtaking face gave nothing away, but her intentions were clear and this time much to Hermes relief, he could tell that it wasn't to vent about the sexual exploitation's that she and Ares partook in. Something was troubling his dear sister, which usually only happened once in a blue moon.

"Speak to me." Hermes commanded.

"Feeling cruel, brother?" Aphrodite asked, quirking a perfectly shaped brow at him. "You should direct that wrath at someone who deserves it. Perhaps, Apollo will give you the fight you are seeking." Hermes never usually seemed so tense and to see him like this irked at Aphrodite a lot more than she cared to admit.

Hermes could barely restrain himself from rounding on Aphrodite. But that would start a fight he was in no position to finish. He forced himself to stay calm as he let out a short breath. "Enough." he snapped. "State your intentions."

The smile that had flashed across Aphrodite's features moments before dropped in under a second and her pretty face suddenly looked grave. "Our little sister."

Hermes regarded her curiously for a moment. Those bright eyes blinking at her, he looked genuinely bewildered. "Diana?"

His astonishment didn't escape Aphrodite. "Yes." she confirmed, letting out a long sigh. "Diana."

"What of her?" Hermes ordered. "Diana has been gone from Olympus for centuries now."

"I know it was you who informed the Queen of our baby sister's current predicament." Aphrodite announced suddenly, pulling her blond waves of hair back to rest snugly over one perfectly sculpted shoulder. "And don't insult me by trying to deny it."

"Your point, sister."

"Hera will see your role in this." Aphrodite warned. "She will crush you when she learns of your indiscretions."

"Then so be it." The messenger God said fiercely.

Aphrodite smiled, like she very much agreed with this. "I want to help."

The disbelief almost leapt from Hermes's face and his laugh was slightly hysterical as he shook his head. "And why pray tell would I let you anywhere near her?"

Aphrodite leaned forward, her breath hissing out in satisfaction. "Because Diana needs guidance."

"She already has guidance." Hermes said. "That's my decree."

"And a fetching job you're doing of it, brother." The love Goddess tossed away the fern. Her tone was silky, persuasive. "But the kind of guidance I am speaking of is one that we cannot provide." Hermes clearly wasn't going to reply, so she went on. "At least not physically." She pushed to her feet, her hips swaying as she sauntered over to the large scrying pool occupying the space in the centre of her chambers.

Hermes hesitated. "You've been meddling again."

"Not meddling." she corrected, and with a flick of her wrist the pool rippled to life. "Planting the seeds. She and the Kryptonian have been doing just fine on their own. But I must say, what a fine consort to fall upon her lap. He is practically eating out of her palm."

"Diana has always been quite lovely." Hermes stated wistfully, coming to stand beside her to peer into the pool.

For a moment, Aphrodite's cheeks flared with envy as she watched the image before them. "Indeed." she murmured, after a daunting second. It was no secret that Diana's beauty rivalled that of Aphrodite's and growing up Hermes could recall the bickering that would happen whenever Athena would present Diana with freshly crafted garments from her travels. Diana had been the first child to grow up on Olympus in millenniums and when she had started to blossom into womanhood she'd become the desire of many of their siblings. Ares and Apollo primarily. Aphrodite had hated Diana at first, because once Ares had gazed upon her he'd become smitten, the cautionary tale of what often happened whenever man or God walked in her presence.

Hermes sighed, blinking as whispers of the memory faded away. "However . . ." he began at last. "Diana has always been a fickle one."

"That she has . . ." Aphrodite agreed quietly. "But she craved that mortal pet of hers . . . the great lover. That magnificent face that men lusted after and killed themselves over reduced to a mortal acolyte." she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, as if the thought was so terrible that she couldn't find the words. "Was he worth it?"

Hermes drew a long breath. "Perhaps not."

Aphrodite put a hand on his arm. "He has succumbed to the same fate as she." she murmured, chancing a look at Hermes whose face appeared to be set in stone. "Crippled and a slave to the monstrosities of man just like our Diana."

Hermes pushed away from the pool, his knuckles clenching in silent anger. "This world that father guards idisgusts me."

"I have no quarrel with your statement, brother." Aphrodite breathed, and her face took on an almost innocent air. "Which is why I only ask that you let me help you in your quest to restore Diana's memories." she paused for a moment, pursing her rosy lips. ". . . We both know she's going to need them."

Hermes suddenly looked worried. "Yes." He said, his face carefully solemn. "Time is of the essence."

"You will accept my help then?" Aphrodite asked, evenly.

Hermes glowing eyes were dazed and heavy, but as stubborn as she had ever seen them. He straightened, pulling himself up to his full height before he spoke again. "I will. But let me be clear on something, sister." He hissed sharply. "If I find out that your intentions for Diana are of some sort of devious ulterior motive. I will descend upon you, Aphrodite."

In spite of herself she felt a tight giggle well up in her throat. "Peace, my dear brother." Aphrodite said, meeting his gaze directly, enchantingly, that faint smile still clinging about her lips. "You have my word."

Hermes visibly relaxed and Aphrodite found herself brightening at the new image that was now presenting itself in the pool. "Look now, brother." she laughed, and it was a sound full of relief. "Hope seems to be prevailing."

Hermes tightened his lips, and against his better judgement he found himself moving towards the pool.

:::

Metropolis, Clark's Apartment

Presently . . .

Diana's heart thumped strangely as she approached the white plaque door before her. The building was different than she had initially imagined it would be, it was an intimate little place and much too ordinary, which she guessed had been the whole idea in the first place. Diana swallowed, squaring her shoulders. Thin chills seemed to be going through her, and involuntarily her mind dragged up the image that had been the look on Clark's face when she'd thrown him through that wall. She came to a halt outside the door, shaking herself, now was not the time to be feeling precarious.

After all, she had come this far.

Diana poised herself, raising a hand to tap on the door. She was not a coward, she would show Luthor that and Clark Kent for that matter. Superman was her mission, and she'd do well to remember that. On the way here Diana had done what she'd thought to be a commendable job of purging herself of whatever mind games Kent had been subjecting her too all along, or at least she'd thought she had. Once again all thoughts of that predicament had been shot straight to hell.

She sucked in a breath and just as her hand was about to come down on the wood the door swung open. Diana balked . . . there Clark Kent stood, or at least the mortal part of him, clad in a rumpled oxford, with a loosened tie about his thick neck and office slacks.

Diana's felt her mouth dry to a remarkable standard, and she parted her lips to speak but not a sound came out. They stared at each other for a while, and if Clark felt as strung as she did in that moment he did well to hide it, his eyes tracing over the delicate lines upon her face. He gazed back at her, and what Diana saw in his blue eyes made her draw in her breath. They weren't hard and shuttered like she had expected, but they were full of a flat despair that was just as bad.

It made Diana feel as though she were being whisked from one world to another. She blinked dizzily, stepping back, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Clark - " Diana bit down on her lip and her throat nearly closed in on itself. Clark waited for her to go on, but she was already shaking her head, just as lost for words as he.

He stepped aside wordlessly, allowing the door to open that much farther. The silence was deafening, and Diana felt the presence like some sort of second entity. She regarded him for a suspended second, before stepping over the threshold. If she was weak enough to show her discomfort now she was sure that he'd be able to smell it.

Diana shuffled into the room, coming to a stop when she reached the core of the apartment. She tensed when she heard the door click shut behind her, and raised her chin before turning to face the source of her avoidance for the past two days head on.

Clark was strangely calm as he folded his brawny arms across his chest, and Diana found herself shifting uncomfortably under his earnest gaze. Diana blinked, bracing herself for the onslaught and sure enough it came in the vengeance of three deafening words. His eyes blazed, and Diana's heart knocked frantically at the stiffness in his voice.

"So . . . you're strong."

Author's Note: AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Chapter 8! Yay! Yes I know, I'm terrible but life can be a bitch when it's getting in the way and I know it's such a cruel cliffhanger to end it on but what can I say if there's no suspense, there's no story. Just to narrow this chapter down: After finding out what Diana was Luthor stole her from Department X to use her as a weapon against Clark and the league. If you haven't guessed already I can now confirm that subject zero is in face Steve Trevor. My take on how he survived getting blown up in that plane back in 1918, tied into the Bucky Barnes story line of course, except in this tale Diana is the Winter Soldier and Steve is the mutt that their using to take her back from Luthor.

Don't worry next chapter will mostly be a Clark and Diana two hander. But you will get to see what Bruce and J'onn are up too and I will also get introduce you guys to the rest of the Justice League as well.

Thoughts?

Next up will be Chapter 9: Mortal Coil