FicWad

Wonders Never Cease Parts 1-3
Disclaimer: Obviously, these are not my characters, although I tried to make them my own through their personalities and actions. If aspects or scenes from the story seem derivative, well then, please accept my apologies and perhaps make a constructive suggestion to improve. I’m new to genre writing. That being said, I have no rights to and receive no kind of payment for these characters. I am somewhat familiar with the comic books from which these characters originate, but to be honest, my information in this story mostly comes from the Avengers and Captain America movies, and Wikipedia. That information suited my needs in writing this, my VERY FIRST fanfiction. I hope you like it...heck, I hope people read it! Feedback is welcome, both positive and constructive, but please be kind. Enjoy!

Wonders Never Cease


The first time they meet, it is because there is a small, grey leather sofa upended on its side, blocking off the stairwell that leads to his apartment. The door to the apartment opposite the stairs is open. There is a stack of boxes getting dragged slowly into that apartment. A young woman appears in the door threshold moments after the boxes a few moments later. She is tall, slender, and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. She frowns, staring at the sofa. He puts on his politest smile.

“Need a hand with that, ma’am?”

She looks up and smiles at him, and says something back, but he doesn’t hear it, because he’s looking at Helen of Troy. She has the brightest, bluest eyes he has ever seen. Her dark hair is pulled back. That smile. She’s gesturing towards one end of the sofa, and he realizes the following:


--His jaw is hanging open.

--What she’d said was “thanks so much, can you grab that end, and I’ll guide it in?”

--She’s introduced herself. Diana.

--She’s waiting for a response.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Sure thing.”

He helps her move the sofa to the living room, and carries a few more boxes and bits of furniture inside, for good measure. It is at least an hour before he remembers, “oh I’m Steve, by the way. Sorry.”

“No worries, and thanks!” She folds her arms and says, “Now, how shall I repay you, New Neighbor Steve?”

He looks down and hopes he isn’t blushing. “Really, you don’t need…”

“Hmm…” she continues. “Do you like pizza? Is there a good delivery place around here?”

He laughs, nervousness subsiding slightly. He helps move things around the apartment until the pizza arrives, and he stays well into the evening. Being around Diana is comfortable. By his third and her second slice of pizza, they are talking as if they’d known each other all their lives. Among other things, they discover that they both work for SHIELD. She is a librarian—the new archivist in charge of finding relevant files, and of researching whatever information or artifacts teams need before or during field work.

“Do you know your way around yet? I can show you the best way into headquarters,” he offers, surprising himself. They make plans to have coffee at her place and go to work together in the morning.

It is May, the weather is perfect, and he is happy to walk, he says that morning, if she doesn’t like the idea of a motorcycle.

“Why would I not like that?”

He shivers slightly when she slides her arms around his waist from the back, despite the sun’s warmth.

__________________________________________________________________________
2.
He sees her periodically throughout the day, when he’s at HQ. Her name is Diana Prince, and she reports directly to Director Fury, due to the sensitive nature of the materials with which she works. Lately, people have been finding reasons to visit the usually-neglected “soft research” division. Men especially seem to come here often now, to visit what they’ve started calling “the stacks.” The first time he overhears some young agents use that phrase, he warns them never to use it again, and that if it gets back to him, etc. etc., but too many men, of all ranks from all departments it seems, use it as a kind of code-word. “Let’s go ogle the new archivist. Maybe we’ll get her to help us with some “soft research.”

“Soft Research,” otherwise known as the library, used to be a where Steve could sit at one of the long, heavy, wooden tables and read or draw alone, undisturbed. Now this place is a constant, low, hum of whispered conversation, male agents peering over upside-down reports, egging each other on to go flirt with Diana. Women come too, mostly to see what the big deal is, or check out competition, or also to ogle and flirt. But she treats everyone the same: professionally, warmly, but not familiarly. It would take effort on a person’s part to dislike her. Steve’s sketches, over the past few weeks, have an ongoing theme: a beautiful woman, wearing a neat dress and short heels, long hair pulled in a semi-neat bun.

The day Director Fury introduces her to the Avengers, she shakes hands with everyone but Steve. He gets that big, genuinely happy smile, “I already know Steve. He’s the first person I see most mornings.” Steve feels his body warm. He knows his neck and cheeks must be red. He knows Stark and Natasha are smirking, Bruce is clearly amused, judging by the low chuckle, and who the hell knows what Thor is thinking. “We’re, uh, neighbors. We meet for a run and then breakfast before work in the mornings.”

In fact the past three months, when he is home, during the lag time between missions, mornings have become Steve’s favorite part of the day. At 05:00 sharp, they meet outside her apartment and run. He’s never met anyone before who could keep up his pace, and when she forgets herself and doesn’t hold back, it looks as if she isn’t even touching the ground. She doesn’t know why she’s so fast—that’s what she says anyway, and he believes her. In private, she’s told him she remembers very little about her past. Even the best and brightest at SHIELD have been unable to help her. They assume there is trauma in her past—something her brain simply refuses to process, so the story of her life is locked away. She seems to take it all in stride, though. “All anyone ever has is one moment at a time,” she tells him. “Each moment is an infinite universe, full of possibilities.”

“Well when you finally do figure out who hurt you, you tell me. I’ll get ’em.”

“Get them? To do what with them?”

“Uh, I mean I’ll get even with them. Or make them apologize or something.

She smiles, a little sadly. “IF I figure it out, and it was a person and not a group of persons, or some act of nature, or if there was any trauma at all…”

“I guess what I mean is if you need anything, just let me know, Diana.”

“Noted with gratitude,” she replies.

Whatever part of her is locked down, he thinks, may eventually explain her wonderful strangeness. She shows sincere compassion toward everyone she meets, she has the ability to listen very deeply; yet at other times she can be naïve to the point of bluntness in conversation. She says exactly what she means, without affectation. And then there’s her profound, intuitive understanding of combat strategy. He once took her sparring, thinking to show her some self-defense moves (okay, to show off); she flattened him in minutes. She could not explain where or when she learned to do that.

Over breakfast they watch the news, or read the Post, or just chat. He stands next to her at the sink while she washes and he dries dishes. She likes things neat and in their proper place. Sometimes, like this morning, they lose track of time, and she rushes him out of her apartment so she has time to get ready for work. She said, “I’ll see you in forty minutes,” and kissed him on the cheek before she closed the door behind him.

At headquarters, the other Avengers have not missed the fact that Steve’s been spending a lot of time with Diana. Tony Stark tells an off-color joke about the new archivist. Steve realizes, now, that his hand has risen of its own accord, to touch the place she’d kissed, as Tony snickers behind his back.
3.
Diana aches to go on missions. It was her understanding when she took this job that there would be movement toward becoming an agent. When she works with the combat trainers, it is often they who learn something, not she. Perhaps it comes naturally to her. She is sure she’s being kept out of the field by Director Fury for a reason he’s not given her. Being the SHIELD archivist and librarian is interesting work, but in her heart, she knows she needs to do more.

During meetings with Director Fury and Agent Coulson, they look serious and concerned. They look like there’s something they are not telling her. She tells them the dreams are becoming more vivid. There are bullets, and she is diving deeper and deeper into the water. When she wakes up, she is still cold, and she knows she’s been searching for something. One of the psychologists suggests the dreams are a metaphor for her memory loss, especially the parts where she finds the wreckage. Often lately, she tries to dig through the wreckage of a sunken fighter plane. An invisible force keeps pushing her back. It doesn’t feel like a dream, or a metaphor. It feels real. On more than one occasion, when she’s stood by the door and listened to the two men talk after she’s been dismissed, the phrase “her awakening” is repeated. Their voices are uncertain, fearful, agitated.

Agent Coulson is always a sympathetic ear for when the dreams become too intense. “Sometimes,” she tells him, “I wake up and realize I’ve torn my pillow to shreds.”

“You’re close friends with Cap, aren’t you? Have you talked to him?”


“No,” she replies. “I don’t want him to worry about me too much.” She feels a bit of warmth in her cheeks.

“That’s probably wise for now,” Phil reflects out loud. “But I don’t want YOU to worry too much. I need you to promise to talk to me about what dreams you remember, and how you’re reacting to them—especially if they make you emotional or act out in any way.” She promises, and keeps her promise.

Meanwhile, they keep her busy with training and with research—the past, specific missions of the Avengers from the Second World War, through now. So much information; almost none of it redacted for her. She knows a lot about the world, which few others do, even in SHIELD. Sometimes she asks Steve about that time, and some of it seems more like a memory she’s experienced, rather than a story she’s heard or read about.

Then again, often a simple turn of phrase, a physical gesture, will seem familiar to her. She experiences so much déjà vu when they’re together. She loves his stories though. She wishes she had more to share with him. She doesn’t remember her father at all; she remembers being raised somewhere warm, tropical, by many women. How can she remember so much love, and yet not have any specific memories? “They’ll come back when you’re ready,” he assures her, putting his hands over hers, across the kitchen table. He’s patient with her. He doesn’t push her for answers she cannot provide, even though she knows he must be frustrated.

Meeting his colleagues has opened up new friendships for her. When Natasha is in town, they often have lunch, go shopping. It’s good to be close to another woman, and they are similar in interests and in disposition. And Natasha has so much more life experience it seems, especially with men. Natasha’s jokes and innuendoes usually require quite a bit of explanation. “You’d think you’ve grown up in a convent, Diana.” Diana shrugs. It wouldn’t be an unreasonable explanation. She tells Natasha that it’s simply difficult to relate to the world, sometimes. There’s so much hatred. Even when the men who come to the library flirt and ask her out, there’s this undertone of superiority and aggression. Aggression is for battle, but not in friendships.

“Well, there’s no reason to completely exclude one or the other.”

Diana looks at her blankly, not comprehending. Natasha rolls her eyes and laughs.

From Tony Stark’s girlfriend Pepper, she is learning that work from inside of a building, knowledge and application, are vitally important. Pepper is so sure of her intrinsic worth. Her energy is strong and sweet, and she is very easy to talk to. Over drinks one night, Diana tells her,

“Steve hasn’t been drawing in the library much this week. I miss him there. Do you think that’s strange, since I see him most mornings and weekends anyway?” Pepper is wonderful for calmly explaining behavior and feelings.

Unhelpfully, Pepper replies, “I think you have a little crush on Steve, sweetie.”

“Why would I want to crush him? He is my friend.”

Pepper makes a strange face. It doesn’t bother Diana, really, since many people react that way to things she says. Pepper spends some time explaining the concept, but Diana is stuck on the phrasing. What a strange term for amicable emotions!

She feels most comfortable around Steve, though, and feels a mixture of enviousness and loneliness when he is away on missions. All through this fall, they have spent available Sundays from dawn until after dark together. He taught her about baseball this past spring, but she’s misinterpreted even some of the most basic-sounding of rituals involving the sport. The costumed, oversized Presidents who race was simply bizarre. She wasn’t sure why no one seemed to really stretch much at the seventh inning. Plus, when the “kissing camera landed its focus on her and Steve, she kissed him firmly on the cheek, and he turned extremely red.

“You gotta understand, Diana, people know who I am. This is gonna be all over the news.”

“Are you embarrassed for me to kiss you? I’m so sorry—I won’t do it anymore.”

“Well yeah, I mean, NO, no....Y’know what, just don’t worry about it. It’ll blow over.”

She had no idea why anyone at work made any mention of the incident at all the following Monday, when it showed up on several social networking websites, ESPN, CNN Sports, Fox News, and MSNBC; nor did she understand Tony Stark’s insistence on posting a big picture of the shot in the Avengers’ meeting area. Steve’s violent, emotional reaction to said picture seemed disproportionate as well.

Nevertheless, now he is trying to teach her how to follow football. On warm days, sometimes they will go to the park and throw a football around for a while. They go to art museums and galleries. He’s shown her the Captain America display at the Air and Space museum. Often though, they spend a good part of the day either in his apartment or hers, curled up on the couch, watching a ball game, enjoying being in one another’s orbit. She likes leaning up against him, his arm around her shoulders. His body is warm. She feels accepted. Once, she fell asleep and slipped into his lap. She awoke with his hand on her head, absentmindedly stroking her hair. It felt…heavenly…and safe.

When they say good night, sometimes he’ll kiss her, very lightly, on the forehead, the cheek, or lightly brush his lips against her own mouth if she catches him at the right moment. She wonders what it would be like to fight alongside him. In her dreams, the entire sea is on fire. She walks through fire and water unaffected, but she still cannot find what she is looking for. In the distance, voices beckon her to awake, awake.

4.
She isn’t like anyone he’s ever met. He feels like a freak though, staring at her constantly—especially if Natasha or Thor catches him in the act. On the flight out to the North Sea for an assignment, Natasha peered over his shoulder to look at some sketches he’d absent-mindedly doodled on a piece of scrap paper: that now infamous (if clearly platonic) kiss.

“So, good date that day?”

“Wasn’t a date.”

“Have you taken her on a real date yet?”

“No! I mean, I don’t see how that’s any of your business!”

She smacked him in the head and said incredulously, “you HAVEN’T taken her on a real DATE?” What is WRONG with you?”

“Ow! Hey, knock it off! We’re just very good friends.”

But Natasha can see that he’s blushing, and she laughs through her nose. “She is stunningly beautiful, and as it happens, she’s also a beautiful human being. I really doubt she’ll turn you down if you ask her out.”

And there is the problem. He can’t even initiate a real kiss. You’d think that not being a 90-pound asthmatic weakling would give him a little more self-assurance. Once he’s parachuted into hostile territory though, and he’s fighting off a half-dozen well-armed guards, he’s all sureness, at ease in decision and action. Back home a few days later, he lays in bed thinking that actually, he’d probably be more confident if she attacked him. That leads him to some ideas that make it nearly impossible to look at her in the morning, and when she braces herself behind him on the motorcycle, he can feel his face go hot.
_____________________________________________________________________________
5.
Director Fury has been having her read classified files regarding specific operations from the latter half of the Second World War, and asking her opinions. They involve an individual whose name has been redacted. This agent singly defeats entire Axis battalions. He or she extracts enemy secrets with ease. This person was instrumental in winning the war and brokering peace. And then this person disappeared. It wasn’t Captain America, whose had been lost before this new agent’s arrival, seemingly from out of nowhere. Diana does not understand why Director Fury seems to think she would have any particular insights about the events described in these files.

*
Almost every night, she is in battle, or the aftermath of battle surrounds her. Millions of voices scream: women, children. Sometimes she is swimming upwards, from deep in the ocean; other times, she swims through an ocean of flames. She sees the outline of what she is looking for. But then she’s pulled back, and down, down, down into the depths she goes until she is on land again, and she can feel her mother’s embrace as she is comforted and soothed. She cannot see her mother’s face.

The files are read, the director is satisfied that she has no information to offer. She begins to organize the information for the Avengers team, as ordered.
________________________________________________________________
6.
It is the first Saturday of December, and they are at the Natural History Museum to see an exhibit called “Watery Depths: The History and Mythology of Our Oceans.” Diana is staring at a small mural of mermaids floating through the columns of Atlantis. “This isn’t right at all,” she says with authority. Steve laughs. “No? Definitely part of the “mythology” part then?” But she isn’t joking. She looks perturbed.

“It shouldn’t even be dignified by calling it mythology. Naiads had legs, not scales. That’s ridiculous. Plus, they rarely swam up as far as Atlantis. They had no reason to visit the ruins. Atlantis’ ruins were just another reminder of yet another pointless, violent war among men. The architecture is inaccurate. And those fish—they didn’t swim in that part of the Earth.”

“Um, okay?” Steve is used to hearing Diana blurt out some pretty strange non-sequiters by now, but this is a good one even for her.

She places her hand on his arm. “Shh. I’m remembering…no, it’s gone.”

“I’m sorry.” He gives her a sympathetic hug.

She looks up at him and smiles. She takes his hand and walks him over to the next item on display, as if nothing has happened.
*
Normally, he doesn't remember his dreams, but this one is vivid. After he hits the water, the world goes black. Then there is light, but he can’t see. It’s warm. He hears bits of muffled conversation between several women.

He remembers a voice, a feminine, ethereal voice, telling him incredible stories. In this dream, he sees a face, but it’s blurred, as if through water. And he knows she is called “Princess.” The beautiful voice that belongs to that blurred face tells him, “You’re healing. We will send you home soon.”

Scene suddenly changes. It is cold, and he is starting to float away. He can’t move. “Princess’s” hand is gently but forcibly pulled from his own. Freezing now, and getting dark. He knows she is lost to him. The last feeling he has before the cold overtakes him is of bereavement.

On the cusp of wakefulness and sleep, Steve knows that voice and face, but the surety of recognition vanishes by the time his senses register clearly the beeping alarm clock, the packed bag by the bedroom door.
When Diana greets him for their morning run, he hugs her so tightly, and buries his face in her hair, taking in her scent, her softness, her strength. He inhales as much of her as he possibly can.

“Steve, are you okay? Are you crying? Are you sad?” He doesn’t know. But he goes out of his way to see her as much as possible that day, before he’s deployed for the next two weeks. “I will be back the day before the Christmas party, and I am going to dance with you,” he promises.

She grins. “Well that was easy and unprompted. Are you sure you’re okay?”
7.
Each member of the team gets a different set of files. Thor and Steve have each been given a kind of mythology. For Thor, it is a familiar story, and he tells his colleagues that he has suspicions as to the reason and timing of the Avengers’ homework. He goes to Asgard for confirmation. When he returns, he is confident, but does not divulge his insights. He spends quite a bit of time in private meetings with Coulson and Fury. When in the hallways, the three of them abruptly stop their conversation whenever Steve happens by. He periodically picks up phrases and words like “dormant memories,” “awakened state.” One particularly strange bit he’s heard, by accident since it’s none of his business, is “it could go smoothly, or she could react violently. 2000 years’ worth of memories is a lot to process all at once,” (Coulson’s voice), and Thor’s reply, “I will watch her carefully.”

While deployed, Steve reads the same information as Thor’s SHIELD file. He reads it, but it feels more like an old story—one he heard years ago but only remembers as the words on the page come to him. He has no idea why this is necessary information, or what it might be leading up to. It is about the daughter of Queen Hippolyta, the first child born past the dimension of Earth, roughly where the island of Lesbos would be. For three thousand years, the immortal Amazons lived there. The Amazons had been created around 1200 B.C. when the Greek goddesses drew forth the souls of all women who had been murdered by men. One soul was left behind: soul which originally belonged to the unborn daughter of the first woman murdered by a man, and reincarnated as Hippolyta. “This one must wait until it is time,” the goddess Olympia instructed. In the late 20th Century, Hippolyta was instructed to mold some clay from the shores of their paradise, Themyscira, into the form of a baby girl. Six members of the Greek Pantheon then bonded the soul to the clay, giving it life. Each of the six also granted this child a gift: Demeter, great strength; Athena, wisdom and courage; Artemis, a hunter's heart, perfect aim, and a communion with animals; Aphrodite, intense beauty and a loving heart; Hestia, sisterhood with fire; Hermes, speed and the power of flight. The girl grew up surrounded by a legion of adoring sisters and mothers.

When she was a young woman, the gods decreed that the Amazons must send an emissary into Man's World. The World of Man’s champion for peace, Captain America, had been lost to the oceans, and, according to this legend, the servants of Poseidon carried his broken body to Themyscira for healing.

“Oh, now I understand why I’m reading this,” he thinks. “Saved by a mythological god. I guess that’s as reasonable an explanation as any other one.”

Healing, however, would take time—time the Earth did not have to spare. Queen Hippolyta ordered a contest to be held, but forbade Themyscira’s beloved princess from participating. The girl disobeyed and did so anyway in disguise, easily winning the contest and being named the Amazon's champion. Before embarking on her mission, she was given an armored uniform, the Lasso of Truth, forged by Hephaestus himself. She was also given the Sandals of Hermes, which allowed her to instantly traverse great distances in seconds. She was called Wonder Woman.
___________________________________________________________________________
8.
It is the Thursday night before Christmas, and Steve has returned home from his assignment. It is very late—early Friday morning, actually. Diana hears his distinct footsteps as he carries his bag upstairs to his apartment. His left foot steps more heavily than the right. He must be carrying his load on the left. Or he has been injured. She fights back the urge to follow him upstairs to see if he’s been hurt.

She does not see him Friday morning. Presumably, he is sleeping off his late night. She leaves him a message that she will meet him at that evening’s party; she, Natasha, and Pepper have plans for the afternoon.

Specifically, when she divulged that she’d not yet thought about what to wear to the formal occasion, she’d been volunteered by her girlfriends to be something called a “Human Barbie Doll.” They are spending the day shopping.

“Couture takes some time, dear,” Pepper explains, as they sort through dresses at their fourth boutique. Natasha and Pepper find what they decree “perfect” simultaneously. It is deep red, ankle-length, and a Livia Firth original, upcycled from damaged gowns from the 1930’s. It is sleeveless, and the satin skims and drapes Diana’s body. It needs minimal tailoring, and Pepper slips the seamstress some money to get it done before 4 p.m. The rest of the afternoon involves finding shoes. They agree to share a professional make-up artist.

Apparently, spending an entire day with the ladies involves talking about things Diana has never really understood, aside from in a theoretical way. They talk a lot about sex, and Diana is made to understand that the discussion is for their ears only—no blurting out stuff to the guys. Pepper is mortified that Natasha feels it necessary to spell this out to their friend, but Diana says without even a hint of irony, “Thank you. I am glad you clarified that for me.”

Diana is grateful for their assistance and company; she is unsure why they are making a fuss over her. They allude to things they will be doing with their escorts at the end of the evening. It’s informative, but she isn’t really sure what a formal party has to do with sex. She offers, “Oh, is this like the way animals make a show to their potential partners, to let them know it’s time for them to mate?” They look at one another and fall over laughing.

In the hotel room at the site of the party, they drink champagne and help one another with dresses as the make-up artist takes turns with each woman. When Diana is dressed and made-up, Natasha says, “God. I might do you myself.”

“Do what?”

Pepper shakes her head and tells Diana, “Never mind her. THEY GUYS are going to be blown away.”

Diana thinks better than to ask about tonight’s weather. She knows Steve intends to walk her the few blocks home to their building tonight. The universe has been unusually quiet. The whole team will be there.

9.
The team members stand in a semi-circle; Tony, in his designer tux, as always, holds court. There’s a drink in his hand, and he is joking about women being late just as Pepper sidles next to him. “She’ll be worth the wait,” she smiles, winking at Steve. Steve’s face goes hot, and Tony laughs at him. His laugh abruptly stops, though, and his face momentarily goes slack. He recovers quickly, though and says quietly, “Cap. Turn around.”

And there she is, radiant as the sun itself, laughing with Agent Coulson about something Nick Fury has just said. When she sees the group, she and Agent Coulson walk over to them. She is on his arm. Thor, Bruce, and Tony make slight bows; Steve stands stock-still. Up close, she looks like a goddess, like one of the likenesses they saw together at the museum, come to life, or the young woman in the file he just read. Intense beauty doesn’t cover it. The group is chatting and joking, though, friends at ease with one another. Diana has said something. Agent Coulson says something, she says something back and everyone laughs. She’s looking at him, now. Did she ask him something? Oh, crap. He should say something. He feels a sharp elbow below his lower right rib. “Steve, dance with her,” Natasha mutters under her breath. Oh. Right. “I believe you’ve promised me a dance, Captain Rogers, is what Diana just said a few seconds ago.” Oh, I get it. Coulson’s handing her off to me. “How long have I been standing here like an idiot,” he wonders. “Yeah! I mean, yes! I mean, absolutely.”

On the floor, he says, “I should warn you, I’m not very good at dancing.”

“I have faith in you.”

“And, uh, now that I have you here, I might not want to let anyone else dance with you.”

She doesn’t hesitate. She smiles up at him, looks him straight in the eyes. “I might be fine with that.”

She’s clearly the better dancer, but she matches him move for move, as if what was between them was liquid rather than flesh and fabric. Even their breath synchronizes. When she is close enough to him, he can’t get a sense of where one of them ends, the other begins. To him, it feels as if there is only one complete dancer. When the musicians take a break and they stop dancing, he first notices a sense of emptiness, as if something’s been cut from him. It hits him that while they danced, he thought of her as “his girl.” But really, she isn’t. She’s perfect, too self-assured to belong to anyone. The second thing he notices is that people have been watching them. Tony pats him on the back and says “you guys should just get a room upstairs and get on with it, man.” Diana is totally composed, already chatting with another partygoer. He, on the other hand, is left to blush by himself.

When the music resumes, Steve begrudgingly allows someone else to lead her onto the dance floor. He knows he really isn’t “allowing” anything; Diana belongs to no one. She decides whose dance invitations to accept or decline: Coulson and Fury each get a turn. A well-known general and a couple of foreign dignitaries get a turn. He watches her move, and thinks maybe he’s never really watched her before. It’s Diana, his close friend, but now she’s something else entirely. He understands what his men meant when they talked about their “angels” back home in the States. Did they feel like this about their girls? Wait, she’s not his girl. She belongs to no one. It’s his sad mantra for the night. He’s starting to feel inexplicably miserable, except for when she is with him. Not long before midnight, he says, “If it’s alright with you, let’s get out of here before it gets too cold.” It’s a dumb excuse, but she consents.

Halfway home, Diana stops, and sits on a stoop to take off her shoes. “Sorry, they’re pretty, but not comfortable.” Then she hikes up her dress, and carefully rolls down and removes one stocking, then the other. He can’t look away, even if he wanted to. He’s seen her legs before—she does wear shorter skirts, or shorts on hot days, but this is definitely a different category of leg-seeing.

“Much better!” She’s on her feet again. The cold doesn’t appear to bother her bare feet and legs, but Steve insists upon lifting her over the icy patches on the sidewalks, and up their own apartment building’s stoop, letting her slide onto her feet when they reach her door on the ground floor.

Being held against him like this is almost as good as moving with him on the dance floor, and ten times better than leaning against him on the sofa, watching TV. She keeps her arms draped behind his neck just for a moment more. She isn’t sure who kissed whom, but it doesn’t matter. She is pressing her lips up against his, and he is pushing his back, hard. Her hands are draped around the back of his neck. One of his hands is on the small of her back, the other at the nape of her neck. If she could make time slow down, she would. Then she parts her lips a little bit, and his follow them. She wonders what would happen if she opened a little more, and used her tongue to explore the inside of his mouth. Before she can find out, he pulls back, looking dazed. She tells him, “I’d better warn you, I might not want to let anyone else kiss you.”

“I’m okay with that.” He sounds hoarse.

“Come inside.”

Her hands are on this chest. She can feel his heart beating into her palms, through his Army browns. “I—I’d better not,” he stammers, and clears his throat. He’s blushing furiously.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable. Steve I’m so sorry. Did I do that wrong?”

“What, the kiss? No! God no, not at all, believe me.” There is a slightly uncomfortable silence. “I just uh…I had an amazing time, Diana.” He grins lopsidedly. Then he kisses her again, his mouth closed, but lingering, and for a moment, she thinks maybe he’s changed his mind. Or, perhaps she really did offend him, because he pulls away once more. She watches as he takes two stairs at a time to his floor, grinning all the while. She remembers back to a comment Natasha made this afternoon, that men are simple creatures, easy to figure out. Diana disagrees.
*
They are on a quiet beach, holding hands, looking at the water. “I need to get back there. They need me.”

“I know.” She sounds resigned.

“Come with me. Or, or I can come back for you—you know—when the war’s over.”

Before she can reply, another woman clears her throat. “It’s time, Princess.”

It is cold, and he is floating away. He can’t move. Her hand is gently but forcibly pulled from his own. He is freezing. As his sight dims, he hears “Find me.”
10.

The next few weeks feel different to Steve…in a good way. This new shift in his relationship with Diana is amazing: sliding an arm around her waist and kissing her head while they wash breakfast dishes in her apartment, after their run; not being afraid to kiss her when they part ways for the night. In the library one day, she asks him to help her retrieve a map from way in the rear stacks, on a high shelf. Once there, she smiles shyly and says, “I lied. I don’t need help finding anything.” She reaches up on tip-toes for a kiss. He’s smitten. He kisses her back, and she steps in a little more, presses her lips to his a little more firmly, moves her tongue into his mouth. He thinks she might swallow him whole if she could, and he’s not averse to the idea of letting her try. But, work isn’t the place. He gently pushes her away. “Someone’s gonna see us, sweetheart.”

Time at home is a different matter, though. He could kiss her for hours on end if he didn’t have to breathe or eat. He keeps his hands well within what he considers “safe” places, though. She hasn’t pushed for any new… um, “developments” in their courtship; he bets she’d probably like more. This isn’t the 40’s anymore, and she’s so beautiful, and so affectionate with him. When he sees her getting hit on by other men, he doesn’t have to feel alarmed, because she only wants him. He feels optimistic for the first time since he’s been thawed out, as if there’s actually a place for him in this world, in this century. If Tony wouldn’t constantly hound him with sexual innuendos, it would be a beautiful thing. Then again, if Steve could avoid stammering for another subject every time Tony brings it up, that would be fine, too. Thor, if he’s around, will sometimes silence Tony abruptly: “You will not speak of Miss Prince in those terms.” Steve is dedicated to doing things the right way, but why is Thor suddenly so interested in defending Diana’s honor?

It is early February, it is cold and bleak. Tony has been (sometimes even genuinely nicely) offering unsolicited Valentine’s Day advice. They are in a meeting room with their Amazonian History files, waiting to be invited into Director Fury’s office for further briefing. Comparing notes, it seems this story and place, and Wonder Woman, are from another, hidden dimension of Earth. They’ve been entertaining themselves by taking turns trying to lift Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir. Tony has tried two separate Iron Man suits. Brody and Tony have tried in Iron Man suits together. Steve cannot move it. Even Bruce has transformed, but the Hulk cannot make it budge. Natasha refrains altogether, acting disinterested. Amused, Thor shrugs and says, “None of you are worthy. Diana opens the door to give them their meeting agenda, and as they start to file out past her she calls back, “Oh, Thor, don’t forget this!”

Everyone turns to stare at her. She is extending her arm toward Thor, his hammer hanging by its leather loop from her index finger. Thor says, slowly, “Highness, please set it down.” He averts his eyes and bows slightly. Steve and Diana are equally confused. “I’m sorry Thor, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She seems to be doing that to lots of people lately, she thinks. “Highness?” Steve asks Thor, thinking he must be insane.

When Diana places the hammer back on the table, her hand touches the heavy stone, it glows for a moment, and memories come rushing back: all of them—more than 2000 years’ worth.
*
She is outside the amphitheater by the sea. “Yes,” she says, we’ll find each other,” and her mother gently but firmly removes her hand from his. She watches him go rigid with the cold, his eyes unseeing. She doesn’t understand why she can’t go with him. She helped him heal when Poseidon himself sent this broken, burnt soldier from the World of Man. She spent afternoons at his bedside, telling him the stories of her people. While he walked among them, rebuilding his strength, they traded their personal stories—his of sickness, poverty, how he became a hero; hers of peace, doted upon and worshiped by thousands of mothers, trained in the arts of hunting, tracking, combat and strategies. She couldn’t stand the idea of him returning to a place of such violence and hatred, all alone. She wanted to go too, and they could change the world together.

“He is not yet worthy of the Daughter of the Queen.”

“I’ll find him. Or he’ll find me.”

“His memory of his time here has been hidden in his mind. They will sleep, and never revive. He will be hidden from all who seek him. You will not find him. He will not try to find you. He’ll have no reason to look for you. If you find him, he will not remember you.”

Captain America is so well hidden though, no one finds him, and the dimension containing Man’s world has become so fraught with destructive forces, it threatens all dimensions of Terra.
Wonder Woman does not keep her identity a secret when she arrives in the U.S.. To the chagrin of the American generals, Wonder Woman is completely innocent in the ways of the modern world. Her native tongue is Themyscrian, a variation of Ancient Greek. She speaks broken English, which she learned when she knew Captain America. It improves quickly though, until she can speak the language fluently and intuitively within a few days. She spends time with the highest officials in the American War offices, offering strategies and insights. She is trained as a warrior though, and in battle, she shows no hesitation in using deadly force when called for, even though her overall mission is one of peace. While on her mission, when she is able, she swims deep, deep into the waters, into and past Atlantis, looking for Captain America.

When peace returns to World of Man, she returns to her own world. For years, Diana spends most waking hours walking the shoreline alone, or swimming deep out into the sea, all the way to the ruins of Atlantis sometimes. The women are worried. What is it from the World of Man that makes our beloved princess so very sad? When the World of Man needs her once more, seventy years later, she is permitted to go, but her memories are buried, repressed in deep sleep for her own good, as decreed by the Queen Hippolyta.

*
“Themyscira,” she says quietly.

The next several minutes are almost a blur. The Avengers hear doors slamming in lockdown. Lights are flashing in the hallways, and there are sounds of security troops’ heavy footfalls everywhere. All of the Avengers’ communicators light up with a text: DON’T LET HER LEAVE. Thor says “I believe she has awakened, as prophesized,” as Nick Fury, and Agent Coulson burst into the room with their weapons drawn. They approach, and Steve goes to intercept. He has no idea what this is about; he feels he needs to protect her, by force if necessary. But they all stop short: she is changing. Or, rather, her clothes are changing. Her hair, once tied back in a bun, hangs in black waves, all the way to the top of her hips. She is wearing blue-black leggings with light blue stars, and black, knee-high boots. Her bodice is dark red, strapless, leather, save for the golden eagle breastplate. The eagle’s wings spread across her collar bones, forming two W’s. She has a dark silver tiara with a red star, and silver bracers on her forearms. A length of gold rope is coiled at her hip, held in place by her belt, which matches her breastplate.
Thor drops to one knee and bows his head. Everything is still for what seems like forever to Steve. Fury breaks the silence. “Do you know,” he begins cautiously, “who you are?” She looks at Steve and smiles a wide, happy smile, then says, “Yes, Director Fury. I am Diana Prince. I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta of Themyscira, who bartered the treaty between Terra and the other eight worlds; I am shaped from the earth provided by Demeter Herself, and imbued with life by the Goddesses and Gods of Olympus. In the World of Man I am known as Wonder Woman. I have awakened…. What happens now?”
What actually happens is that Diana/Wonder Woman is whisked off by Agent Coulson, for what Steve assumes will be the same kind of series of physical and psychological tests he endured after his own transformation for Operation Rebirth. Director Fury moves everyone else into his office. He explains that it was probably the combination of research, strong emotional reaction (he stares at Steve, who blushes furiously), and the energy of Mjolnir that triggered Miss Prince’s recollection of who she is. He spends the next three hours asking and answering questions with the Avengers team, about who she is, why her very existence has been all but redacted, and her eventual role as part of the team. Thor takes Steve aside at one point and says, “You will want to handle Mjolnir once more.”

When he does, he remembers more—the dreams make sense. His acquaintance and utter fascination with a beautiful demigoddess who healed him during the War, his decision to leave, how he wondered, once, whether things could have been different. And then he woke up in the twenty first century, his last memory a plane diving into the ocean.
___________________________________________________________________________

11.
“This turned out much better than we’d expected,” Coulson explains as he and Diana quickly move through the cleared halls. “The predictions on Asgard were for a traumatic, possibly violent awakening—all those Earth years assaulting you at once. There might still be some aftereffects from your awakening, Wonder Woman, but you’ll be monitored closely.

“What happens next, to answer your question,” is we watch you closely and test you a lot. There are going to be psychological evaluations, we’re gonna see what your strength and powers are like first-hand, and then we’ll see. Director Fury’s goal is to put you with the Avengers, but there’s a lot to do before he makes a final decision.

The next indeed will be trying. Diana had no idea there could be that much work involved in determining what kind of a person she was. There are hours of psychological and neurological tests involving paper, pencils, electrodes to her head. There are physical tests of her strength and endurance. SHIELD wants exact numbers for her physical limits—how high she can jump, both standing and running, her top running speed, what she can push, pull, lift, press. The will even test her to see what kinds of chemical and plant substances she is naturally immune to, and what kinds of immunities she could develop.

Most of all, the scientists are checking her emotional responses and moods at first. Once she is settled into her temporary quarters (after three hours of immediate testing of vitals, memory, brain waves, and who knows what else), Diana has a chance to break down. So many memories, so many of them jumbled. She closes her eyes to better arrange her thoughts. Two hours after that, Steve is sitting next to her cot, watching her, looking worried. She hears him breathing and senses his presence before she opens her eyes, but doesn’t register who he is. She springs from a prone position to one of crouching, ready to attack, and launches herself at him, knocking him backwards in his chair.

“Whoa! Ow! Hey!”

She hears running. Someone comes from behind. There is a sharp sting in her back left shoulder, and when she opens her eyes again, Steve is sitting in the corner of the room. “Steve,” she extends her hand. “Why are you all the way over there?”

“You don’t remember attacking me?”

She slowly pushes herself to sitting, but halfway up, her head complains, and she eases herself down again. “No. I’m sorry.”

He gets up and sits at the edge of the cot. “Yeah. You were yelling something in Themyscrian. It took five guys to hold you down so Bruce could sedate you, and I think it only took five because you were disoriented.”

“Was anyone hurt? Are you okay?”

“The guys will live, Bruce is fine…I was gonna ask you the same question.”

“I honestly don’t know. But you haven’t finished answering mine. Are you alright? What happened after Coulson and I left?”

“Big meeting, lots of shouting and accusations toward Director Fury, toward Thor, toward myself.”

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’m so sorry.”

He grins that cute, lopsided grin. “I’ll live.”

“Why Thor?” She pauses. “Oh, right. His grandfather helped my mother negotiate a treaty before I was born. She told them that one day I would come to help the worlds unite again, before the next crisis.”

“Another crisis? Fantastic.”

“Not yet. I mean, it’s a prophesy, right? I doubt anyone has a timeline figured out all that accurately. So what happened next, Steve?”

“Thor had me touch his Mjolnir, thinking the energy released from your latent memories would trigger whatever ones of mine your mother repressed. I worked.”

“You remember then.” She smiles and tries to get up and hug him. Again, she winces in pain and lies back down.

He pats the top of her hand, kisses her forehead, and stands to leave. “You need to rest. Bruce , Coulson, and Thor are gonna take care of you.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

For the first four days, the blackouts, confusion, and random attacks, in addition to reversions to her native tongue, continue regularly. Diana remembers at least two of Steve’s visits. When she asks how many visits they’ve actually had, he is evasive. “Does it matter?”

Bruce is extremely kind to her. Of all of the Avengers, he knows what it is to suddenly be “not you,” and out of control. “Hey, at least you don’t turn green and have to buy everything with elastic waists,” he offers. Additionally, of all the scientists assigned to her, he is the only one who really takes the time to explain what the results of these myriad tests and measurements mean. “It’s looking good. I think before the month’s out, you’ve got this. You’ll be yourself again, only better because you’ll know who you are and what you can do.”

What he cannot do is guarantee that Steve will come back around. Steve sees her only twice at the beginning of the following week, and then is off to Alaska for voluntary special training. When Tony and Pepper visit with Diana and hear about it, even Tony’s response is an incredulous “Wait, he did what?”

12.
“Honestly Steve?” Bruce says, “Since you’re circling around the question anyway, in my professional opinion, and in my opinion as a friend to both of you, Diana could really use your support right now. There’ll be other trainings. You guys can sort out your memories together and make all the difference in the world—for both of you.”

He feels low and conflicted. Diana’s outbursts caught him off guard, even though he knew they might happen, and they meant nothing. It should not have felt like a punch to the gut when she cried out, only once, “You are NOT Steve! Where is Col. Trevor? What have you done with him?” He knows she doesn’t even remember most of what she’s said in that state. It’s more than that. Once she goes out on missions, and she’s up against legions of aliens, terrorists, god knows what else, he can lose her. Seeing her change before his eyes that day, the casual strength she used to fling him across the room…she is someone and something else now. He is torn between protecting himself from some nebulous danger he senses, and protecting her.

Agent Coulson puts it more bluntly when he sees Steve’s paperwork requesting the training. “Of everyone on your team, you always seemed the least likely person I’d feel like saying this to, Steve. But frankly, you’re being an ass. From everything I’ve seen, and what I’ve gathered in conversation, she is your girlfriend. If you care about her as much as she thinks you do, you will help her through this.” He lets Steve stand there staring at something on the opposite wall. “If it was up to me, I’d assign you to her.”

So he’s a jerk, asshole, dick, selfish, misguided…his friends have all pretty much taken it upon themselves to say all the things he’s told himself. But he’s remembering this while heading northward, sketching pictures of a stranger who looks like this girl he was dating.

____________________________________________________________________________________
13.
By the third week of her release from confinement, their morning routine had crept to a standstill. “I figured you’d be too tired after all that testing, so I grabbed a bagel after an early run,” he’ll say. He is suddenly busy most weekends, with assignments or trainings all over the globe. In the library, he picks up his sketches, kisses her on the cheek, and leaves as Diana enters the room. “No, nothing’s wrong, I’m just really swamped right now,” he assures her, looking past her, as if he has somewhere he needs or wants to be.

If Steve is not there, cheering her through her progression of the next phase of testing though, Phil Coulson is there. She is able to call on him, just as she is Natasha and Pepper, for company and moral support. On a cold day in April, Diana completes the last of her trials, and is instated as an agent. The four of them go out for celebratory drinks, along with Tony and Bruce. Steve is in Eastern Europe, but congratulates her by phone, over a poor connection. It doesn’t really feel like a celebration.

All through the early spring, Diana fills the void by going to the Assateague shoreline by herself, and she watches the wild horses graze, or the waves wash up on the cold beach. Memory intact, she thinks back to times when she was a small girl, and her many adoptive mothers and sisters who would let her run wild through the fields of Themyscria. She remembers how Thetis would help her throw the heaviest discuses, guiding her tiny arm through the proper form, and then racing her across the island to see where it landed. Thetis always let her win. Diana lets the icy water creep between her bare toes on this lonely stretch of island. She thinks of how her mother held her as she sobbed to let this strange being, the first man she’d ever seen, float out to the mercy of the endless ocean. Inexperienced as she was, she could not understand what she was feeling, or why. She only knew the deep pull she felt towards him. She felt happy when he was there. She feels the same way now, and wishes her mother was there for her.

When they are together, she and Steve go through the motions of their friendship sometimes, but he is more polite and standoffish than ever. When he looks at her, she sees pain, sorrow, but he will not speak of it. Most of all, it hurts her that he so clearly hurts, and that she is somehow to blame.
_________________________________________________________________________________
14.
It is mid-May, and Tony comes limping into the Avenger’s private lounge area. “Holy crap, she’s strong.” There is no sarcasm at all in his voice. Steve has watched his teammates train and spar with her from the observation deck. Actually, this most recent spar was pretty entertaining. Wonder Woman had thrown Iron Man against the wall, and he slid down onto his back like a rag doll. It seemed that was a signature move: he, Natasha, Hulk, and Thor had already received similar treatment. She stood over Iron Man’s prostrate body, and he opened the visor on his helmet. Tony leered at her and said, “Y’know, this isn’t what you were wearing when I fantasized this moment.”

“What should I have been wearing?”

“Lacey thong, maybe some whipped dessert topping.”

She paused, as if to consider the scenario. She shook her head and said, “That would be impractical. Slowly, a look of comprehension came to her face. “It would also be inappropriate.” Then she punched him in the jaw.

Tony slumps into a chair. “Welcome to the ladies’ sewing circle,” Bruce says. "What needs to be stitched up?" Steve makes a noise that sounds almost like a snigger.
__________________________________________________________________________
15.
The Avengers have assembled in an air hangar. “Well, here she is,” Agent Coulson says to Diana. Her eyes light up like a kid on Christmas day.

“You still have her!”

“We made a few changes. We learned your technology, so in return we upgraded yours. She can dive now, and you’ve got about four days for two people’s worth of air underwater as a mini-sub.”

She throws her arms around Agent Coulson and kisses his cheek. “Thank you!” She looks utterly gleeful. “Go check it out,” he says, smiling back at her.

She doesn’t walk to a jet. She walks into open space, and puts her hand up against nothing, stroking empty space lovingly as if she’s doing a pantomime. Then she takes a few steps upward, again onto nothing, and disappears.

“Coulson what the hell,” Steve starts. Then she reappears. Or at least, her head appears, about ten feet above the floor. “It’s amazing!” She yells, and disappears again.

“Cloaking technology,” Tony says. “Impressive.”

“But she can see it,” Coulson explains. “She’s in a two-seater fighter jet. She had it during World War Two, and left it here for us to study.” He pauses, letting the team absorb this. The he continues, “although most of the time, she really doesn’t need it. You might not have seen it yet, but she can fly for short distances.”

The team looks at Steve, and he feels his stomach muscles tense. Why didn’t he know this? “Goddesses,” he shrugs.

Diana pokes her head out again. “Come and see!”

They take turns being guided up an invisible ramp, into what at first is nothingness, but then solid, visible objects appear. The plane is indeed spectacular inside. The electronics and AI are several years ahead of their time, and the layout could have been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright: no wasted space whatsoever. Steve can see why she’s excited.

“Do you want to take it out this weekend?” she asks him.

It takes a few seconds for him to compose himself. For a moment, he loves the idea of flying this masterpiece of machinery. “No,” he replies. “Got a mission coming up. I’ve gotta prepare this weekend.” He kisses her forehead, gives her hand a squeeze and deplanes.
16.
By June, Diana has gone on three successful solo missions. The shift in her relationship with Steve ever since her awakening is impossible to ignore. Steve is even more formal, more cordial, less at ease around her, and she is at a loss as to why. Their precious morning routine is all but defunct. She thought he wanted her to regain her memories and be whole again. He supported her aspirations to field agent. Why hasn’t this brought them closer? She looks for him in the library, but he is rarely there. He has volunteered for mission after mission after mission, and isn’t home much because of it. She is awakened, yes. But she feels hollow, not whole.

Neither Natasha nor Pepper can offer acceptable insight or solutions. Sitting on one of the porches at Stark Mansion, Pepper says, “He’s acting like a jerk, but in his defense, you just came out as a demi-goddess and superhero a few months ago.” Natasha adds, “You’ve beaten the stuffing out of every single Avenger, including the Hulk. He’s watched you disarm Thor and throw his hammer at him, knocking him cold. You catch Hawkeye's arrows mid-air. You can fly, and you can see invisible things. Throw the Lasso of Truth into the mix, and that’s definitely more than Steve can handle. Give him some more time to process the changes.”

But Diana has not really changed, and Steve has had nothing but time. In fact, nothing has changed EXCEPT for Steve. She has never experienced emotions like this before. Catching that last part of the conversation, Tony walks over to the women and says to Diana, “If you love him and you feel this lousy, say something to him.” All three women look up at him, shocked at this rare moment of sensitivity. “Do you have a fever?” Pepper asks?

Tony pulls an ottoman up next to Diana’s chair and puts his arm around her in a half hug. His breath smells like very expensive whiskey. “Look,” he says. “If I had ignored how I really felt about Pepper, I’d be a far more miserable human being than I already am.”

“Thanks hon,” Pepper smirks. “That’s so sweet.”

“I mean it, though,” he protests. “I might even be dead by now if it weren’t for me admitting how I felt. Get this off your chest. Get some kind of closure one way or the other.” He stands up, kisses Diana’s head, and heads off towards wherever he was going.

“This is not love!” Diana looks nonplussed. "I know love. All my life I’ve known the love of my mother and sisters. I love humankind, and peace, and the beauty I see everywhere. Love is warm, and makes you complete. This is something else entirely!”

Natasha shakes her head. “No, this is human love. It’s messy and ugly sometimes. But it’s also worth it.

“How can this be worth it? I can’t sleep and it interferes with my duties! If I am feeling human love, then how do I stop it? This is terrible! This emptiness and wishing hounds me! It weighs me down, as if it was an illness! Why would anyone want to feel this way?”

“The only way is through,” Natasha says.

Pepper nods and puts her arm around Diana in a half-hug. “Tell him. Tony and Natasha are right, sweetie. You can’t go on like this.”
______________________________________________________________________________
17.
It is 06:30 on Sunday. It is late June. Steve wraps a towel around his waist and steps out of the shower. Then he stops cold. “Diana!” She has let herself in with her key. “I’m um, not really up for breakfast right now. Maybe later?”

“No,” she says. Her voice is steady. I need to speak with you. You’ve been avoiding me, and it makes me sad. I miss you.”

Steve tightens a little. He’s aware that he is dripping wet, and only wearing a towel. He’s suspected that he’d have to confront, well, whatever needed confronting, eventually though. “Okay. Uh…let me just get some clothes on. Give me a minute? I’ll meet you in the living room.”

Diana steels herself. “No.”

He sighs, a little exasperated, and feeling more than a little cornered. “Diana, c’mon, I’m naked.”

“I said No.” Her voice is firm, which startles him. She reaches an arm behind her, unzips her dress, and it falls in a puddle of flowered cotton at her feet. She is wearing nothing underneath it. She looks every bit the classical goddess. Steve would not be able to speak, even if his brain could arrange a complete thought.

“I’m unclothed too, Steve. This is how I feel on the inside. I have no injuries at all, but I feel naked, wounded, and unprotected. You’ve been avoiding me for months: going on earlier or later runs, volunteering for extra duties at SHIELD, ducking down hallways if you see me coming. What have I done? Why are you doing this?”

He has no idea what to do or say. If his troops from the War had a magical window, and could see him in his future right now, Steve would never have had credibility as a leader. He feels heat creeping up into his neck and face. He knows his entire body is blushing. He is torn between staring at Diana and averting his eyes from her. She, on the other hand, seems completely at ease in her own skin, as if dropping in on your neighbor unannounced, naked, and making demands, is perfectly normal. It’s too much. He’s starting to feel something else now, as his muscles instinctively tense. “Jesus, and all your gods, just who do you think you are, Princess?” Seriously? Are you even for real?” He practically spits out the word “princess.” His voice is raised.

The anger dissipates as soon as he sees the look on her face. Tears well up and roll down her cheeks. “Oh hell, Diana, I’m sorry.” He takes a small step closer, and looks over at his bed stand. Aren’t there tissues in here? “I didn’t…” He continues.

She steps over her dress, a little closer, and interrupts him. Her voice trembles just a little. “I am for real, Steve. I am flesh and bone and blood.” She takes his hand, places it over her chest, and holds it there, as if afraid he might otherwise recoil. “This is my heart, beating. Please, feel it. It’s real.” She puts her hand to Steve’s chest. “It’s as real as your heart. And I love you. Why are you angry with me? You are hurting me.”

He knows his heart rate has revved about a hundred-fold. He wishes his face and neck weren’t as red and hot as they felt. He starts his apology again. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m not angry. I’m a dope. No, I’m an insensitive bastard. Diana, no. Please don’t cry.”

She doesn’t break eye contact, even through tears. I’m not sure what I did; I’m not sure what to do. I miss being with you. I miss our mornings and weekends. I miss kissing you behind the maps in the library, Steve. I miss your arms around me. I thought we were happy together. Why don’t you want to kiss me anymore?”

Now he feels as if he’s been flipped out of the frying pan and into the fire. He’d almost rather she accuse him of being a war spy again. He feels like a complete screw-up. “Of course I still want…” he tries, but stops. No, that wouldn’t come out right. What would Cary Grant or Clark Gable do right now? The answer probably involves not staring cluelessly at this beautiful, weeping, naked woman in two feet in front of them. Maybe surrender is the best approach. “I’m totally confused. What do you want me to do?” Okay, he knew that was stupid the moment he said it. He closes his eyes for a moment. His neglected girlfriend is standing in his bedroom without any clothes on, and their hands are on each other’s’ chests. “Well golly Rogers,” he thinks. “What do you think she wants you to do?”

“Natasha says she is sure you have never been with a woman, or seen one naked. But I thought…” She trails off that whatever she was about to say, which is completely uncharacteristic. Before he has to react to this new bit of information, she tries the thought again, though. “I’ve never been with a man intimately before, either. And Steve, I honestly don’t know what to do, or what I’m doing here, but I need you to understand.”

Steve was going to have to have a little talk with Natasha. And yes, he’s seen naked women before, especially during the War. Women were constantly invading his privacy, breaking into his hotel rooms, stark naked. Admittedly, none of them looked like this. He has no idea what to say.

She hasn’t moved either of her hands. What a tableau, he thinks. If this were a painting on display somewhere, people would think they were about to, well... “If I’ve made you uncomfortable I’m so sorry,” Diana whispers. “I will leave if you wish it. I won’t invade your privacy anymore.” She starts to release his hand from over her heart, and hers from his, but he holds them there.

“No! I mean, please stay….It’s just that if what I think might happen is gonna happen…I mean, um, I’m pretty nervous.”

Wonder Woman is standing naked in front of him. She is strong and fast enough to level an entire army base single-handedly. She transcends perfect. She’s what the word “perfect” was based on, and his hand is on her breast. He should lean in and kiss her, like he’s seen so many times on TV and in the movies. The guy gets the girl, and they kiss. Fade out, end scene. But there’s no fade out here, and she’s no one’s girl; she can never belong to him. That original dread begins to cloud out other thoughts. He says, “Diana, you’re a damn goddess. I can’t…I mean…” he swallows hard. The words simply won’t come. “I belong with you,” she says quietly.

Using every ounce of courage he can gather, he takes a small step forward. He kisses her, and her reaction sends shivers through him. She moves both hands to his upper arms and digs her fingers into them, pulling him closer. She really loves him. Why the heck would she want to be with some sickly, inferior, clueless kid from Brooklyn? He pulls back, but still doesn’t move his hand from over her heart. “I didn’t always…I wasn’t always like this, you know that, right?” Her eyes are bright; her lips are a deeper red. “Steve, your body isn’t the only thing about you that’s beautiful.” He steps closer, kisses her more deeply. Let her swallow him whole; he no longer cares. Somehow the towel is on the floor, and his hands trace the outline of her breasts, her waist, and the small of her back. Their torsos crush into each other, and she is touching the hollow space of the back of his neck, she gently bites his lower lip, and then moves her mouth to his jaw, then his throat, then the space above his collarbone. Her hands press into his back. She tugs at his earlobe with her teeth. He presses her so tightly to him that he can feel her feet come off the floor. He smiles and pulls his head back to look her in the face. She looks flushed and hungry. “I love you, too, Diana.”

He takes a few steps back, and sits on the edge of the bed. She sits on his lap and faces him, and wraps her legs behind him. Her hands cup his face. She kisses him deeply, and he is hard against her abdomen. He lies down and pushes up into her as she lowers herself onto him, and they sink into each other. As they move together, he tries to keep his eyes open, so he doesn’t miss anything: not a movement, not an expression. But when he brings his hands to the very place where their bodies merge, she makes a sound that he thinks may make his heart shatter.

He rolls on top of her. The boundaries between their bodies don’t even exist anymore. This is the fade-out. This is why the men he’d led into battle thought this was the reason for air, water, food, and survival. This is something he barely understands, and there is no language for this. He feels like he’s going to disintegrate. He can barely hold himself together, and he feels her tightening around him as he pushes deeper. When she climaxes, she sighs and calls his name along with a litany of gods. He fall to pieces. His whole body is molten, and so is hers. They do belong together. They are together. Why did they wait for so long? How many opportunities had he wasted out of fear? What the hell had he been thinking, pushing her away and causing her that much pain? Some brave soldier. He holds her to him for a few moments before rolling off of her, so she will not see the tears.

They lie side by side for a while, saying nothing. Her head rests in the crook of his arm, the lengths of their bodies touch. “Steve?”

“Mnh?”

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Steve?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m famished.”

He rolls onto his side to look at her. “We can do something about that. I was just at the store the other day. I’ve got yogurt.” They lie still for a few more minutes. Her eyes close without ever responding. “Diana?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can move yet.” She laughs, and he does too.
______________________________________________________________________________
16.

As is her way, Diana does not hide their relationship at SHIELD. She doesn’t advertise it, but relationships and their complicated societal rules still elude her at times. When Natasha comments one morning in front of everyone, “Well, how come you two look so relaxed and happy today,” Diana replies “It is because we had intercourse seven times last night.” She is completely composed, and unapologetic. Steve is bright red. He can’t be angry with her, though. This is how she is: poised, frank, and guileless among the people whom she trusts. Instead, he folds his arms and drops his head, slowly shaking it “no.”

“Diana,” he mumbles.
“Was that too much information?

The word “NO!” resounds rather loudly from Tony, not quite subduing Steve’s quiet but emphatic “yes!”

But they are happy. They tell each other that they complete one another, and they mean it. Tony Stark has given them silly “couples” nickname and jokes that they can share costumes. They ignore it. Diana’s identity is secret, as opposed to Tony’s and Steve’s. In-jokes aren’t an issue, as long as they aren’t public commentaries. On missions they are professional, and as a pair, they complement one another in combat. At home, not much changes on the surface of things. They have their separate apartments, but most often, they stay the night at one or the other’s. Every so often they casually discuss getting a place together—eventually. Steve is still committed to “doing things right.” In the mornings they run, and sometimes she nearly takes flight as she breaks pace with him. They spend available weekends together, and in the spring he takes her to baseball games. He does not blush too much when the kissing cam lands on them. They are not rushing anything.

“We have only one moment at a time,” Diana reminds him. “Each moment we have together is an entire universe.”
The End (for now)