Man In Black

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything, don't make money off anything. All characters belong to DC comics. I write because I like to. Feel free to use in any way, just keep my name and disclaimer.

DEDICATION: To my little love. It's the way she makes me feel.


The meeting had been exceptionally long. It was one of those topics no one could agree upon. Sometimes, representation from so many different interests and personalities could really be a disadvantage, she mused. Every one of her colleagues was right in his or her own way, and none of them were ready to budge an inch. She thought she preferred battling all the villains she knew, simultaneously; to matching her will against her friends around the table. Even her super-stamina was not equal to the task; she was tired.

Unconsciously, Wonder Woman leaned back in her chair, stretched her neck, and ran her fingers through her hair.


I shouldn't be thinking this, shouldn't even be looking at her this way. But I can't help it. She is so beautiful.

For years, the two of us have fought side by side. She is such a perfect counterpoint to me, everyone else seems to notice.  And I have the honour to be able to call her friend. She confides in me, laughs with me, cries with me. Having known her, I can attest to the fact that her mind is every bit as beautiful as her body. Still, all the years have not reduced the wonder, as this moment proves. Despite myself, I can't take my eyes off her.

I guess she is the archetype of what a woman is meant to be. Classic beauty combined with amazing grace, ability to be guide and friend and philosopher, and oh, so much caring. No, she is more than just a woman. She is a princess, a goddess.

She is way, way out of my league.

Good thing, too. I don't think I could ever live up to the potential of being her man. I'm content to be what I am. But…

She is so beautiful.


'Tis strange, how the woman affects me. One would have thought that one is used to these wanton displays. One has seen enough of them in one's lifetime. But when that one does it, 'tis somehow different.

What has she done? My mind is unsettled; my body feels urges that are usually kept suppress'd. I cannot think, or worse, I think too much, and that can be dangerous. I need control.

What a prize she is. She is the ultimate object of desire, the reason kingdoms rise or fall, beauty to drive away sanity. To feel her hot breath again, to crush her lips once more under mine, to own her, to take her is mine only thought now. Fortunate the man who she would call lord.

And what man dare claim that honour, but I? This woman, this princess, she deserves none lesser. It matters little who she does consort with now; ultimately, her innate aristocracy will make the correct choice for her. I, and no other, shall be her lord, and she shall be my lady. One only needs to wait.

Until then, she must trouble my dreams, as I must trouble hers. Until then, my lady, one shall wait.


Diana. Latin goddess of the moon. Appropriate.

Sometimes, when the weight of my duty gets to be too much, I look up at the moon. She is beautiful. She is peaceful. Her glow cools me, soothes me. For just a moment, it's just her and me. Then it is back to what happens below the moon.

That is how you make me feel, princess. Your beauty, somehow, gives me hope, tells me that there is some reason to fight for. There is no scientific explanation why; I just feel that way. I trust my instincts.

Where does so much grace come from, princess? Ever since you came to Man's World, you have seen how ugly this place can be. What kind of base instincts drive the scum who seem more and more to be the majority in this world. How can you still fight for your cause, so different from mine? How can you still have faith?

Did you ever know that you're my hero?

I live among the dirt of this world, just one step away from the madness that I fight. One moment of carelessness and I could well become the same as them. I used to think that my will, my purpose was enough to keep me going. Time and time again, I have been proved wrong. I need my people. I need my support. I need…you.

I did not have faith in anything I could not control. I still don't. But now, now I know that I do not need faith. Not so long as I have you.

I do not know whether I can ever tell you. I love you.


With a violent mental shake, the Martian Manhunter surfaced from his trance. Wonder Woman was truly remarkable, he thought. Somehow, a simple human gesture had affected even a scholar-monk like himself. He had momentarily lost control of his telepathic abilities.

He cast a surreptitious glance around the table. In that moment, he had invaded the minds of three of his colleagues. Strangely, he could not tell which one was which. He suspected his own mind was blocking that knowledge from him. Already, the memory of what he had experienced was fading.


Wonder Woman noticed that suddenly, all conversation had stopped. In fact, all eyes were on her.

"What?" she asked.


ENDWORD: Despite the title, this story is about men. Although I am in love with a Wonderful Woman myself, I don't think I will ever know them enough to write a story about them.