Surprise! It's been a while, and I felt like continuing this. Not sure how far I will take it, so we'll go chapter by chapter, for now. It's vaguely set in the comic universe, but I'm basically ignoring everything that happened after Batman issues 39 and 40, so you don't have to know much of the current comics to follow along other than those issues. Enjoy!

-rosa

Damaged

The Everlasting Hordecame each night as ruthlessly as it had before, but this time, the demons came for Diana in her sleep. The Egyptian cotton sheets and lush down comforter of her guest bed in Wayne manor were soft on her skin but could not offer any succor to her spirit's suffering. She woke screaming each night, at some point, the sheets soaked in sweat.

The first night, Bruce had been with her; he'd called in favors among all his allies in Gotham so that that first night, he could sit in her room all night and wait for the moment he knew would come. The chair was comfortable, and he was a nocturnal creature. Diana was exhausted to the bone after nearly four hundred years of constant battle, so her sleep was deep until nearly sunrise, when she began to moan and toss. He dared not wake her, knowing she could accidently kill him if he startled her and she wasn't careful. Though it hurt him to watch her wrestle with the dream, he waited for the moment when she shot up in bed with a gasp.

"Diana, you're home," he said quickly from the chair, half-rising before he could force himself to settle back down in it, to be calm and unthreatening. "You were having a nightmare."

Her wild eyes took a long moment to clear, but then she recognized him, glanced around the room, and let herself fall back to the pillows. "Oh, Bruce," she murmured. "I felt sure that you were the dream, that I had not really come home."

"I can imagine," he said, finally standing and crossing slowly to the bed. "It felt the same when we returned the first time, for me."

She closed her eyes, listening to his footballs. Unlike most people, she could hear him most of the time. Her senses were not quite so sharp as Clark's, but she was far more used to using hers than the Kryptonian was, since she'd had many, many more years of practice. So, Diana wasn't surprised when Bruce cautiously touched her hand; she let her fingers entwine with his, and he squeezed them, hard enough to make her eyes open in surprise.

"I am real," he said. "You are home."

"You said that often enough in my dreams for the last four hundred years," she replied. "My mind is damaged, Bruce; it does not know which reality to trust."

"I am real," he repeated, sitting on the bed next to her. "Trust your senses, Diana, if you cannot trust your mind. Anchor yourself in the present moment- what do you see, hear, feel, smell, taste- dreams rarely touch every sense."

And so she wondered if she should taste him to be sure. But instead, she simply let herself feel his hand and how hard he was squeezing her fingers, almost enough to hurt. She let herself hear the sound of Wayne Manor's birds waking up outside the open window, the sounds of cars on the street. She could smell, even from here, the smells of bacon and cinnamon from the kitchen. She looked at him for a long moment, and he didn't look away.

"Yes," she decided. "That will help."

Alfred brought them both breakfast in her room, and she fell asleep again shortly after eating it. Bruce Wayne did not appear at Wayne Enterprises that day, as he'd fallen asleep in that chair in his guest room again. He woke when he heard her scream and every nerve in his body seized.

"Diana," he breathed, meeting her dream-ridden eyes. "It was a dream. You're here now. You are safe."

And like she had when she'd first appeared in that Gotham park, she rested her face on her drawn-up knees and wept. He sat on the bed next to her and held her until she had no more tears left.

Then, she looked up, touched the stubble on his face, and sighed. "You never had this in my dreams," she said. "So I am back in reality once more."

He managed a small smile for her. "Welcome back," he said. "How are you feeling?"

She let her hand fall back to the bed. "I think I am healing again. My ankle doesn't hurt anymore." She lifted her bare arms for him to study; the various bruises were turning yellow, the gashes closed into pink scars. "My body is recovering, though a bit slower than I am used to. It is a good reminder for me to be humble, to know my body has limits."

Bruce's mind agreed though his heart did not.

That day, she'd left the bed, dressing in the soft pajamas and robe that she found in the guest room wardrobe, and walked the manor floors with Bruce, listening as he detailed what his parents had used each room for during his childhood. He'd taken her outside to the garden to sit among his mother's roses, still tended to by the gardeners. She'd noted then how his hand was warmer than she expected, how the roses smelled strong and sweet, how the spring breeze and sun warmed her skin, how the rose petals on the ground looked beautiful and sad.

"I am surprised that no one else has come to see me," she said, with a small smile.

Bruce didn't answer right away. Birdsong filled the silence until he said, "I told them all to stay away."

"For me?" Diana wondered.

He squeezed her hand. "No. For me."

She did smile then; her faced remembered how after all.

XXX

The next night, the hordes came again in her sleep but she woke alone, her throat raw from screaming. Bruce had come running in thirty seconds later, but she said, "It's okay, it's okay, I'm awake. I'm okay."

He stayed until she went back to sleep; nightmares didn't come for her again that night.

That second day he'd relented and allowed Clark and Lois to visit. She'd sat in the parlor with them drinking tea, trying hard not to look miserable, until Lois finally burst.
"Stop trying to fake it, Di," she cried. "It hurts me to see you suffer but it hurts me more if you try not to show it for our sake."

And so, with Bruce watching from the doorway, Diana cried again and allowed Clark and Lois to comfort her. He managed not to barge in for a few minutes. Once it became too much to bear, he came and sat next to her on the sofa. She leaned into him and relaxed immediately.

If he was honest with himself, so did he.

XXX

The third night, Diana woke up screaming again, only hours after she'd gone to sleep but this time, Bruce did not come. Alfred knocked on her door moments later, entering when she managed to give her permission.

"Your Highness, Master Bruce is out on patrol. May I... that is... would you care for me to sit up with you for a while?" And the old man's blue eyes were so full of hope, she could not deny him. But she did not fall asleep again; rather, Diana let him tell her stories of Bruce's childhood until the sun rose and the man himself hurried into her room wearing gray sweats and a new bruise on his jaw. He looked pale and exhausted.

"I am sorry," he said, but she raised her hand to silence him, sorrow in her eyes.

"No, I am sorry, sorry to be a burden on you both." Before the two men could erupt into protests, she pushed on. "I am grateful for your care, please don't misunderstand; I only wish I did not... need it so much."

And it was that spark of frustration that gave Bruce hope that she would recover; Diana, as a royal and a warrior, bristled when faced with her own vulnerability for too long. This frustration, he saw, was a return of her normal self. When she finally let loose enough to be angry at how he was smothering her, he'd know she was healing.

"It was my choice," Diana continued, that spark still in her voice and her eyes. "I brought it upon myself."

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but though you are right that you chose to return to the Hordes," Alfred said, "it does not follow that you must face the consequences of your healing alone." With that, he stood and addressed Bruce. "You will ring if either of you needs anything." And with determination, Alfred left the room leaving the two of them alone.

There was silence for a moment as they evaluated each other.

"When did you wake?" he wondered. She'd gone to bed before he'd left on that first return to patrol at ten.

"Around midnight," she said. "Alfred has been keeping me company since then."

Exhaustion hovered around Bruce, cloaking him like a shroud. She recognized it because she felt it in her bones.

"Bruce, why don't..." she trailed off, feeling ridiculous and angry that she felt ridiculous. She swore in Greek, then burst out, "Will you please sleep here for the day?"

He almost laughed, but the fragility in her was visible enough as it is. He only smiled and said, "As you wish. But I imagine you'd like me to shower first."

She waved that off airily. "We rarely had that luxury for thirty-seven years, so what is one night?"

So he didn't bother. Bruce climbed under the blankets with her, his entire body humming. She sighed, rolled over, and forced her breathing into even breaths. Finally, he knew, she was asleep. Moments later, so was he. Neither of them woke from nightmares.

"One night" turned into an unspoken routine. From then on, Diana kept night hours, and Bruce did not sleep in his own bed. She did not go with him on patrol, but at times, she would sit up with Alfred in the batcave or receive more visitors. Clark and Lois came by often. Etta could not come but called often. Zatanna came as soon as Bruce allowed it so she could yell at Diana for sending that letter and then cry on the Amazon's shoulder. Other founding members of the Justice League, ones who knew Bruce's identity, would come by. Some, like Barry, treated her as if nothing had happened, frittering away hours on funny stories and gossip; she loved him for it. Others, like Jessica and Baz, who were used to her being in charge and invulnerable, tiptoed around her like she was a wounded animal. She tried to act normal for them; as normal as she could when 3 in the morning was the middle of her day now.

Her dearest friends all felt like strangers, of course, because 400 years of absence doesn't fade away like the details of a nightmare. And though she found herself surprised at how their mannerisms surprised her, where her memories had been insufficient, she knew that for them, only days had passed. And so slowly, she had to get to know them all again.

All except Bruce. Unlike the others, her memory of him was clearer. She'd shared an extra thirty-seven years with him and him alone. His expressions, the nuances in his voice, the way he walked, the sound of his breathing as he slept... she'd memorized it all. And she'd spent centuries missing him; the ache of Steve's loss was slowly replaced with her longing for Bruce and it remained her constant companion alongside the Everlasting Horde.

Sometimes, as Diana and Bruce slept away the day, she would whimper in her sleep or begin tossing about; Bruce, sometimes conscious of it and sometimes not, would throw an arm over her waist and draw her close. Then, Diana would quiet, and sleep peacefully.

In fact, sometimes, Bruce was the one who stirred with unrest, the one comforted out of a nightmare by Diana burrowing further into his embrace. For two weeks, this went on. Bruce slowly began to resume his normal life, sometimes sneaking away for meetings at Wayne Enterprises before returning home to fall asleep in her bed. Other times, Diana would transport herself to the Watchtower while the Batman was on patrol to re-familiarize herself with it's layout, with the support staff whose names she'd forgotten, with her quarters there.

The first time she'd returned to her quarters on the Watchtower, she'd knelt before her small shrine to her patrons until her knees ached, silently praying until the tears came and went away again. Here is where Batman found her. He'd returned home early from patrol to find her missing and Alfred unsure of where she'd gone; he'd panicked.

"Her Highness is not a prisoner or an invalid," the butler had told Bruce calmly. "She left with Mr. Kent, and I did not ask where they were going."

Batman only made some inhuman sound and radioed Superman, who shared that he'd left Diana, at her request, on the Watchtower. She was not on the roll to take any missions unless there was a catastrophic emergency, Clark reasoned, so it seemed okay for her to have her space.

Batman disconnected without a word and transported himself there. He'd let himself into her room with his override code, not bothering to knock. The door shut behind him. She was kneeling before her shrine, eyes closed.

"Diana," he said, pulling his cowl off. He knelt next to her.

She looked over at him, eyes red-rimmed and swollen yet dry. "You are done early," she said, surprised.

He nodded, touching her hand.

She turned her gaze back to the shrine. "I lost track of time. I have been praying and praying; I have many questions and fewer answers. I have asked Athena for strength and wisdom; I hope she will answer in time."

Bruce had no answer for this; he was not a pious man. He let himself calm because she was here with him, not gone, and her hand was soft.

"I was worried," he said, "when you weren't home when I returned." She opened her mouth to answer, but he continued quickly, saying, "I know I should not be, because you can take care of yourself, but you see, I am damaged too, Diana."

She closed her mouth, listening.

"For me, our thirty-seven years ended not so long ago. Just a few months ago, we came back. And I wasn't handling it well. You might remember that I put a tracker on you, before you left the second time."

She smiled.

"I wasn't handling being apart from you well at all, and then, you left a second time. No, no, I am not angry at you for it, not any more. I only want you to know that you are not alone in struggling to adjust."

She considered this for some time, enough for Bruce's knees to begin to ache and his toes to tingle. Then she said, "We will get through this," and for the first time, she sounded like she believed it.