DISCLAIMER: Don’t own anything associated with the show or DC Comics… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!

RATING: T – For Teen (for mature subject matter)

PAIRINGS: Hints at BM/WW, but only in an angsty capacity

SUMMARY: Batman patrols the night of Gotham from his usual roost, but tonight something catches his attention just outside of the East End. Whether it's goos or bad, he'll save judgement until after further investigation.

A/N: This is my first foray into Superhero fan fic, so please be gentle. I've done sci-fi and crime drama, and I was told Batman was a natural extension of those skills. To separate my superhero stuff from the other work, I've created this less that spectacular alter-ego... And much like Superman, it's a rather obvious disguise, but it's what I'm working with right now. It won't take much for you to break the code. ;) Part 2 of this 2-parter should be up within a week. I have to get it done before my annual geek pilgrimage to Atlanta (where my beta will begin to pick my brains for the Clois fic we're supposed to be writing together).

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I have the two most amazing people for my regualr betas. One of which is specifically responsible for making me write this story. She's also directly responsible for making me addicted to CSI Smut Fics, Batman Begins, Wonder Woman Comics, Batman Comics, Justice League Cartoons, Clois Fics and Hanson's Diet Black Cherry Natural Soda... But I suppose some of it is payback for the hangovers I've given her, and the costumes I have aided in overtaking her brains, not to mention making her hoeplessly addicted to visiting me in Colorado (she's even toyed with the idea of moving here :D ), so I guess we're almost even. LOL

REVIEWS: Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

Vigil of the Dark Angel

A chilled and heavy wind whipped over the rooftops of Gotham with the same polluted air it carried every night.

Crossing from one ledge to another, one fire escape to another, a barely visible silhouette went in search of its desired vantage point: a crumbling cathedral. A guide-wire shot out from the center of his dark attire, attaching itself just above the ornamental ledge of the looming steeple, and the shadowy figure silently drifted out over the city, on a direct path with the dilapidated stone building. He quickly slipped in behind the row of gargoyles adorning the last remnants of the once beautiful spires of St. Michael’s Cathedral.

As the Dark Knight settled himself in to keep a solemn vigil over his city, he was reminded of a conversation with Alfred regarding the book of the bible detailing the apocalypse. The aging butler likened his ascension to the heights of Gotham to the appearance of Saint Michael the Archangel.

Alfred slowly nodded his head and began to explain. “Ah, but Master Bruce, it was the Anti-Christ who explained that, ‘At that time shall Michael rise up, the great prince, who standeth for the children of thy people; and a time shall come, such as never was from the time that nations began, even until that time. And at that time shall thy people be saved…’ Daniel, Chapter Twelve, Verse One.”

“I’m not usually one for biblical verse, Alfred,” he tried to placate the venerable man while still making his point, “But I am not looking to save anyone. Only to put an end to the criminals of Gotham.”

Upon reaching the elevator, Alfred paused, closed his eyes, and said softly, “But I know what is in your true heart, Master Bruce.”

Thinking about those words, Batman understood that the man charged with his care since boyhood may have known him better than he knew himself.

In the beginning, it was about revenge. Or better put, to avenge the deaths of his parents, and to make those responsible pay for their crimes. However, over time, it became something else, something more, and before he knew it, the safety of Gotham was the only thing that occupied his mind. With addition of the Justice League in his life, his scope began to include more than just the city of his birth, but he always put Gotham first.

The Justice League was a strange development in his world, and it gave him a chance to put his theories and practices to work on a grander scale, allowing him to hand down even more of his own brand of justice. He often butted heads with the other members of the League over his tactics, but the one thing they never questioned were his dealings in Gotham City. That was off-limits; Gotham City was his business, and no one else’s.

That was exactly why his blood began to roll at a slow boil when his scan of the outer perimeter of the East End revealed the presence of one of the Justice League members. His jaw clenched involuntarily as he watched the taxi deposit the interloper in front of one of the historic hotels of Gotham City. He was about to crush his binoculars within his gloved hands when someone exited the hotel to greet the unwanted invader to his beloved city.

His focus was transfixed on the two figures as he tried to make out what was happening in his presence. When he saw the figure from the hotel stop and bow in an unusual manner before the unwelcome guest, he noticed that there was something vaguely familiar about the gesture and he began to search his mind for the connection. But before he was able to place it, a flash of silver from the beneath the sleeve of the second woman caught his attention.

Gritting his teeth, he spat out the words as though they were a curse, “Another Amazon.”

Before he could allow his anger over the uninvited visitor to his city to take over his brain, sounds of trouble on the streets below interrupted his rage, and he returned to the life he knew so well. It was time to take out some of that aggression over the heads of a few of the city’s less savory denizens. He would deal with the princess later.

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Returning to the vantage of St. Michael’s Cathedral, the Dark Knight was slower than before, stiffer. Batman was beginning to feel the after effects of his latest bid to rid Gotham of one more slithering miscreant. His left shoulder dropped almost imperceptibly as he reached out for the first gargoyle in the line. When he felt the familiar pull of bruised muscles, he immediately recognized the outline of the lead pipe that the behemoth used to take a swing at his back. He would be feeling that one for some time to come, but it was simply added to the roster of other aches and pains he chose to ignore.

Once he was somewhat comfortably secured between the gargoyles, Batman returned to his vigilant watch of the city. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, but it felt much like the other irritations to his thoughts, and he tried to stay focused on the task at hand; the safety of Gotham.

When it seemed as though the streets of his city were finally at rest, he was about to retreat from his post, but something caught his eye on the final sweep of the perimeter with his binoculars. There was a light in the window on the top floor of the Astor Hotel. That was the Presidential Suite, and visitors to that part of the hotel were few and far between any longer. In its hey-day, the Astor was home to many visiting dignitaries in Gotham, but that was no longer the case. Its proximity to the East End detracted from the grandeur it once possessed, and now the hotel was nothing more than an historical relic to a different time in the city. But not tonight.

Tonight, the Astor was hosting a visiting dignitary of the highest proportions; the emissary of Themyscira, her Highness Princess Diana. His blood began to roil once more.

“Why the devil does she think she has the right to be here?” he snarled with great disdain.

There was still plenty of night left, and he had every intention of getting some answers.

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The light from the suite’s window guided him through the night, but just as he ascended to the ledge beside her room, the light was extinguished. Batman simply assumed that she had left for the evening, and he was going to use the opportunity to do some detective work of his own. He desperately needed to know why Diana was in Gotham, and he wanted to know why she had never asked for his permission. In his mind, he already knew the answer; the Justice League was using her to spy on him.

The French paned glass window opened instantly, with barely a sliver of the Bat Hook inserted below the lock. Obviously security isn’t a high priority around here anymore.

He silently slipped inside the bedroom and prepared to search for clues. However, his earlier analysis was proven horribly wrong when he heard the discomfited sigh escape the princess’ lips from her position atop the bed, hiding in the shadows. She was in the room, asleep, and he was moments away from being discovered.

Instantly, he was torn between fleeing into the night, and continuing his search for the reasons behind her unexpected visit. Instead, he simply froze, and hoped that something would break him from the stalemate. He was furious with himself for making such a foolish assumption, and he could only stand stock still until he was sure of a successful exit from the Amazon’s bedroom.

A gust of air came in through the open window, blowing the heavy curtain aside just enough to let the pale moonlight permeate the room. In the dim light, he could see the outline of her resting form beneath the covers. He wanted nothing more than to make a hasty escape, but seeing the Amazonian princess in such a mundane and peaceful repose gave him cause to wonder.

She appeared almost serene, with only the uneasy breaths escaping her lips to break the tranquility of her slumber. The princess seemed to be having a difficult time sleeping, and he wondered if she was haunted by something in her past, as so many were, including himself. For all outward appearances, she seemed secure and self-assured; her life before the League the picture of Greek perfection. Was it her work with the League causing her fitful rest?

Slowly, he began to walk backwards and back to the window, but never once did his electronically assisted eyes leave her sleeping form. Following the readouts feeding him information in the lenses, he knew that her body temperature and heart rhythms were well within the norms for her race and sex. It may have seemed strange to be monitoring her biological signatures with such intensity, but he tried to rationalize his actions by reasoning that he was simply being cautious. However, deep down, he was well aware that he found it extremely difficult not to look upon her, under any circumstance.

From the relative safety of the ledge outside her bedroom window, he stopped to consider the scene before him with a more analytical eye. She was in his city, meeting with another of her kind, and staying in the best suite of a less than first rate hotel. He was fairly confident that were she there to confront him about some perceived misdeed, she would have done so directly, and would not have taken to the time to secure such strange lodging. But that knowledge left him with far too many other options, and even more questions.

His mind began to search the databanks of information stored there as he tried to find some mention of a social event that would have brought out the Emissary of Themyscira into the light of the public eye, but he came up empty. He would have to double check with Alfred later, but he was comparatively certain that no such social function existed in the next few days. And that left him with an even greater mystery as to the reason behind her visit.

Before he could begin to analyze the situation any further, his eyes caught the movement within the suite. She was turning in her sleep, and this time her position offered him a view seen by few, and if the legends held true, his were the only eyes of man to ever catch even the faintest glimpse of such sights. The sheet with which she was wrapped became slightly tangled with her movements and it was pulled down only a trace amount, revealing what he long suspected; the princess slept in nothing save for her own gods given skin.

He sneered to himself when he thought, No wonder that degenerate Flash is always so willing to go wake the princess.

The sneer was replaced by something else when he realized that he was not so different from the overly flirtatious cretin. Only for him, he was standing outside her bedchamber on a ledge two hundred feet in the air with nothing but a thinly paned window between them. But for all the realization, he still stood, just out of the light, and watched.

Her hair seemed to disappear into the darkened room, its rich black color blending away in the absence of any light. Where the faint moonlight caught the obsidian tresses, they practically glowed with a bluish hue enveloping her face in gentle warmth. Her face, much like the ancient Greek fables from which it was born, was the picture of porcelain perfect, with each detail softly highlighted by the moon’s reflected rays. She was indeed, much like the goddess from whom her name was derived, a radiant beauty in every way, but especially in the glow of night.

When he found himself moving closer to the window again, he was shocked by how easily he was drawn in by her physical charms. He became furious with himself for falling victim to feminine whiles when he was working. There was nothing she had to offer him that he could not find in the myriad of vapid society huntresses throwing themselves at him on a regular basis. It was ludicrous that he was expending so much energy on such a ridiculous endeavor. When the time came, he would simply ask her why she invaded his city.

There was one thing he could count on when it came to the Amazon; she was nothing if not completely forthright. She was also uncommonly loyal, nearly to a fault. In many ways she was very much like Clark, especially in their do-gooder natures. Of course, she was also entirely without guile, and that meant if and when he questioned Diana about her time in Gotham, he knew the answer would be genuine.

His analysis of her character only made his current position that much more unnecessary, and frankly if he had witnessed the same behavior in another, he would have been forced to bring a little education to the lowlife peeping-tom. But there he stood, transfixed on her sleeping image, taking in every detail, every nuance of her presence and form.

His sensors showed that her breathing had increased slightly since the previous sixty second interval, and he observed that her body language was demonstrating her unease. He wondered what would cause such a change during her sleep cycle. Searching his mind, he could not recall anything that would have been plaguing her as of late, but then again, it was not as though he was accessible for sharing that kind of personal information. If it was not something he could learn through his computer system, or in the height of battle, then it was unlikely that he would know about it.

She rolled to the other side, and he was suddenly afforded an unobstructed view of her bare back. The strong muscles meeting at her spine created a long, distinct path that disappeared effortlessly beneath her luxurious, onyx black hair. However, the line his eyes were following had little to do with dark mane gracing her regal head. No, his focus trailed down her back, to the edge of the lowered sheet, where it rested along the crest of her perfectly formed-

What the hell am I doing?!

Completely baffled by his own behavior, he started to pace, two steps to either side of the window. Berating himself for showing such poor focus and absolutely no sense of self-control, he still could not tear himself away from the ledge near her window. It was a totally innervating experience for him, and he did not like losing any control, let alone any control over his own impulses.

Reaching into his utility belt, he prepared to descend from the ledge and back into the night of Gotham City. Just as he was about to release the grapple into the next building, something else caught his attention. His whole body was on alert when his ears picked up the low, rolling growl that seethed from the lips of the sleeping Amazon. The sound had bizarre effect on his senses, and made all of the hairs on his body stand on end, which was no small feat given his current attire.

Without so much as an inhalation to indicate he was any more than a fixture on the building’s ledge, he paused, drinking in every millimeter of her peaceful, sublime form with his natural eyes, as he triggered the internal recorder in his cowl. Though the image of her body in the moonlight was etched indelibly into his brain, some baser part of his brain needed to know that it was not a dream, and it needed physical proof of the sight he beheld for later.

When the figure lying upon the bed began to stir again, he took that as his cue to depart, and with a wisp of the air that lifted his cape, he vanished into the night air.

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Stepping from the shower, Bruce wrapped the towel tightly around his waist. As he walked by the vanity mirror, he caught sight of his deeply reddened left shoulder. He knew that the bruising would follow shortly, and from the looks of it, they would be quite spectacular. When he tried to lift his arms to run both of his hands through his wet hair, he immediately dropped the left one as the muscles protested any use whatsoever. He reminded himself to be sure to attend to that when he woke later.

The dawn was quickly melting into a typical summer day for the great city. With the sun came the heat, but it also sent the criminal element back into the shadows for another day. It also meant that he could rest, even if only for a few hours. After all, Bruce Wayne had many responsibilities beyond keeping up appearances within the playboy circuit.

Feeling the full affect of the night’s activities, he was most definitely ready for a nice long session with his mattress. He was also ready to replay a few of the images stored in his memory banks during his sleep cycle.

As he entered the master suite bedchamber, he found his longtime servant and confidant Alfred turning down his bed. The proper English butler turned and regarded his charge dutifully. “Master Bruce, I trust that your shower was effective?”

“Very much so, Alfred.” He walked to the window opposite his bed and harshly brought the dark, heavy draperies together, blocking out all sunlight from the room.

Alfred, never one to miss a thing, immediately recognized the quickly rising bruises on his shoulder and back. As he walked to the door he commented, “I’ll make certain that Mr. Wong is available this afternoon, Master Bruce… In case you would like to have that shoulder attended to, sir.”

Bruce smirked at the older man’s hinting, but he knew full well that a session with his personal acupuncturist was far more likely to provide relief from the pain that was bound to begin radiating from his shoulder when he woke. “That I would, Alfred. Thank you.”

He noticed the man had yet to leave the room, and turned to ask why. “Was there anything else, Alfred?”

“Yes, sir… On your nightstand is the note that was delivered by messenger yester eve, shortly after your departure from the manor. I considered contacting you, but decided against it, since you were already engaged. I hope that presumption was not wrong, Master Bruce.” The man nodded his head reverently and pointed to the small envelope seated appropriately in front of his alarm clock.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Alfred, but thank you for the consideration.” He knew the man meant well, and it was rare that one of those fancy, hand-delivered pieces of stationary held any importance to him. They were typically invitations to this affair, or that for the various society dames and matrons.

Dismissing his devoted servant with a polite nod, Bruce watched the man vanish through the door.

Tossing the towel onto the back of a chair, Bruce slipped into the bed and made himself comfortable on his back. As he settled into the soft warm depths of his bed, he remembered the note. Deciding it would be good for a nice chuckle before drifting off to sleep. Besides, he still had to set his alarm if he was going to make it to that afternoon board meeting.

Carefully opening the pure white envelope, he pulled the note from within. As he flipped it open from the fold, he was a little surprised to find a complete lack of flowers and flourishes. There was only the subtle stamping of a geometric pattern along the outer edge of the note. However, it was the content of the note itself which surprised him even more.

B-

In Gotham on personal business to assist another prodigal daughter of Themyscira. I’ll be in town for two more days, but my nights are free.

In case you were wondering…I’m still waiting for that dance.

-D

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