Heart of the Knight

All characters belong to DC Comics

As the witching hour neared, the night air became brisk slices of coldness against his exposed skin. He crouched on the top of a GCPD squad car, long cape draped over the flashing red and blue lights has its billowed in the wind. His concealed hazel eyes became piercing daggers as he stared directly at the SWAT van loading up a shackled prisoner with a bright orange Arkham jumper clothed over his lanky body.

His thinned straight lips altered into a faint scowl, rage became ripples of heat in his veins as he listened to the chimes of insanity beckon his mortality to dare the reaper of smiles with a fierce glare of hidden remorse.

He stubbornly refused to meet the darken hollow of dingy eyes glinting with unpredictable gleams of morbid jest. Under the fabric of his gloves, his bruised knuckles cracked into a tight fist. A ragged growl erupted from the depths of his raw throat, he swallowed the metallic taste of blood, feeling it trickling down into the pit of his churning stomach. He regarded the debased, uncompromising prisoner moving into the back of the van with molten orbs of fire hazel behind the darkness of his sleek edged cowl.

He straightened on his boots, menacing and towering the darkness of his symbol over the asphalt. His gauntlet forearm scallops hung at his sides, and lips fastened into a firm line. His eyes searched beyond the shadows of the alley, his senses aware of hidden dangers lurking away from the eyes of Gotham's finest. He became acutely guarded with the sounds of footsteps sloshing in the murky puddles.

"Do you think he's going to stay in there for good this time?" Commissioner James Gordon asked, rubbing away the tension forming in his temples. His wary blue eyes stared at the SWAT van exiting from the driveway and onto the main street of Mid Gotham. He allowed his eyes to drift at Batman, watching his trusted ally become rigid with an imposing posture.

"I want to believe it," The Dark Knight answered with rasp, his voice whispery and exhausted. "Somehow I doubt that he'll agree to those terms, commissioner."

Gordon released an uncertain sigh, "I'll have my officers guard his cell. He will be watched every hour."

Batman looked over his plated shoulder, "You can't trust anyone in Arkham." he growled with a despondent voice. "Everyone in your unit is also on his list. He will use them as pawns to get what he wants. That's how works with him."

"I think you've done enough for tonight," Gordon said, watching Batman yawn slightly. "You look like you're ready to fall over."

"I can't rest." Batman replied with a direct, gravelly voice. "Not when Gotham sleeps."

Gordon nodded silently, "Do you ever rest?" he asked, with concern etched on his aging features.

Batman narrowed his head down, trepidation pounding in his skull. "I will when Gotham is safe." he answered flatly, removing his grappling gun off the holster on his belt. He fired the device, "Go home, commissioner. " He growled, shooting up into the air, as his rigid cape formed a shadow of a bat against the brown stone wall. Gordon stood near the flashing vehicle with a weak smile playing on his lips. He looked at the steamy cup of brewed coffee in his hand.

"I wonder if he drink's coffee?" he questioned under his breath, dialing on his cell for Barbara.

After stripping off his armor, Bruce entered the vast space of his Century Tower's bedroom, his throbbing muscles protected against the light fabric of his black T-shirt and jogging pants. He groaned, creasing his brow as his bruised jaw tightened and locked. He wanted to control the pain, the increasing thoughts of vengeance, that he fought every day, trying to shake the overwhelming carnal feeling of staining his hands with the blood of his enemies. His heart bled for control of the rage searing in his veins.

His soul, his father's voice echoing in his heart pushed all the anger out of him and he stepped into the dim lamplight.

His shadowed eyes captured the glints of downtown Gotham in the depth of his penetrating hazel chasms. Darkness etched over his sharp features as aggression consumed his doubts of surviving another day without bullets lodged in his flesh. And then a thought of seeing her stuck his center, as his feet shuffled over the shiny granite floor. He wanted to see her, sitting on his bed, red and golden armor scattered on the floor and sleek, raven hair draped over her shapely shoulders. Mostly, he wanted to stare with the stillness of his firm gaze into her pools of ocean blue that dazzled in the darkness of his world. He loved her. His stubborn nature and well-guarded heart refused to unveil the truth to her.

She was an immortal warrior, a patron of a Greek gods and flawless treasure to humanity. And he was just a cold-hearten, brooding prince that transformed himself into a snarling beast every night.

My princess, he thought, halting in his strides as his heart twisted in his rib cage. Diana.

Bruce glanced around, staring at the empty king sized bed, pressed silk sheets and untouched by a warm body. His lips curled into a sullen frown, he breathed out a deep, frustrated sigh and silently moved to the huge window. He felt a familiar ache thump inside his chest as tears threatened to stray from his closed eyes, fighting against the deepest recesses of his tortured mind. "I'm an idiot," he chided to himself, placing his feverish brow on the cold glass. "If I can't even say those three words to her... Then I don't deserve her."

Suddenly he became aware of an intoxicating aroma of jasmine found in the forests of Themyscira wafting in the air. His heart soared in his chest, as he slowly swallowed his disbelief and looked over his broad shoulder. He dared himself to open his eyes, and took a deep inhale. When he opened his hazel eyes, he felt the ache of his shattered heart melt. She was standing in the lamplight, ivory freckled skin tarnished with essence of amber, her tall, and curvy frame covered in burgundy tank top and black jeans. Thick raven hair fastened into a long braid, and face beaming with welcoming warmth.

"Hello, Bruce," she greeted him with a firm and a soft voice. Her full, vibrant ruby lips stretched into a beautiful smile and tender blue eyes gleamed with cherished love. She elegantly sauntered to the middle of the bedroom, and he met her half way.

"Princess," he said, with a low voice. His hazel eyes shining with warmth, moisture. "I thought you went back to Themyscira to stay with your mother and sisters?"

"I did return back to my mother's Queendom." Diana replied, staring deeply into his soulful eyes. "I helped my sisters defeat the traitorous witch Circe."

Bruce narrowed his darkened eyes, "Circe," he growled, raging threatened to rise up his throat. "I thought we defeated her?" He asked, remembering when the witch transformed Diana into a chubby, pink sow, and if he hadn't made that disgraceful bargain, Diana would have become butchered in a meat slicer. "Nothing happened to you on the island?"

"Don't tell me that you were worried about me, Bruce?" She smiled blissfully, she hummed the words to the song he performed to free her from the enchantment.

"I-" He became tight lipped for a moment, heart galloped in his chest. "You're my teammate. I make it my business to worry about the lives of the members of the League."

She gave him a little frown, "Nothing happened. Circe was defeated. The battle ended with victory."

"Good," he replied, clamping his lips shut.

She sensed his resistance, intently staring at the stubbornness gleaming in his hooded eyes. "I came to Gotham to check up on you. The last time we saw each other you were in sick bay with a cracked rib cage."

He shrugged lightly, "I'm used to having broken bones mended." He shot her a misty smirk.

Diana inched closer, extending out her hand, and touching the scar on his right bicep. "You've been through more injuries than mortal I've ever met, Bruce. What gives you the strength to endure all of battles?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes, drawing out a deep, cleansing breath. "A dream." He answered her, softly.

"A dream?" she repeated, arching up one eyebrow. "Something you cherish in this world?"

"Someone." Bruce replied, cutting his eyes away from her. He set his jaw down hard, fighting against the clog of words in his throat. "It's just a dream. Nothing else."

"I can keep your secret, Bruce." Diana whispered, her breath swept over his feverish skin. Her silk padded fingers soothed over his protesting muscles. "Tell me what troubles you?"

"You know I can't, princess." Bruce withdrew a step back, searching for resolve in the shadows. He sealed his lips, feeling the dullness in his chest ache. "If I did then I would regret it and everything we've been through will be undone."

" Bruce..."Diana whispered, but her low voice cut into the silence. She stepped forward, placing her palms flat on his firm pectorals and met his eye level, and they became locked in the other's shadows of concealed pain.

"You're shouldn't have come back to Gotham," he turned away from her. "I'm a danger to you."

"You've said those words for a long time." she whispered.

"Yeah, well, it's the truth, princess." he droned, folding his arms over his torso. "I can enter that dark place anything and never come back."

Diana shook her head, " You know I will never allow you to fall into that place, Bruce."

He looked at with steadiness in his defiant eyes, "You are my dream, Diana." he unveiled, his voice sincere. "You save me every night."

She felt her heart swell with warmth, " I know what you're trying to say, Bruce." Her fingers threaded through his dark locks touching the nape of his neck. "You don't have to fear the outcome of your confession."

Bruce felt the muscles of his throat constrict, "I can't say it, Diana." he answered, enclosing his arm around her waist, rough knuckles dug into her back. "I can show it." he growled, drawing his hand from her back, running her raven strand in between his fingers, and then he pressed her into him while his hungry mouth descended onto hers.

Her lips rigid at first, thoughts wormed inside of her, tasting his heated lips and feeling the pressure of his chest against her ample breasts. She closed her eyelids, relaxed against him, curves fitted perfectly with his slender hips. Her mouth moved slowly underneath his, returning the kiss with forbidden urgency. He beguiled her lips apart and allowed his tongue to slip inside her mouth, slowly and relentlessly.

Her hands coiled over his shoulders, gripping his upper back. His fingers splayed over the plump curves of her hips, making her skin swell against the trailing heat. She was hot. Throat burned, hair became drenched and eyes hazy. She kissed him, long and deep. Relishing the smoldering taste of his mouth dripping over her tongue until she needed to breathe. She broke away, panting and looking into his shimmering hazel eyes. Everything was perfect. Dreamlike and alarming.

Bruce placed his hand on her jaw, drawing his face closer, "I love you, Diana." he confessed, kissing her softly.

Diana smiled, beautifully, "I love you, too." she replied.

He mirrored her smile, with something rare and beautiful in her eyes. His eyes sparkled with contentment and lips pressed gently against hers with relief. He felt the pieces of his lonely life, mend back together. He felt whole again.

A/N: My little BMWW gift for all of you this weekend. Thank you and enjoy. If you ever have requests... Let me know.