sunshine boy

sunshine boy

JOSEPH ROGERS

— unfinished, unknown, 1917 —

My Darling,

I often find myself thinking back to the day we first met. You know, I never was one to believe in things I couldn’t see or touch, and with the life I’ve lived, I’m shocked I ever allowed myself that second of complete vulnerability. 

I had just gotten off my last shift of the day at the base and a couple buddies of mine thought it’d be a great idea to go to the nearest pub and celebrate a day of honest work. I was hesitant, but eventually agreed to grab a beer or two and check out the small wonders of Ireland. We got to the bar, sat down, ordered our drinks, and then you walked in. 

It wasn’t anything like the poetry or novels make it out to be. There wasn’t harps, blinding lights, or even the singing of cherubs erupting in that very moment. No, falling in love at first sight with you felt familiar. It was Deja Vu, seeing a soul I know I haven’t met in this lifetime, but millions of times before. The world continued to revolve, and my eyes were permanently focused on the smile you flashed around the room when you entered. You weren’t a Goddess, or an angel, or any divine being that I sure as shit never believed in. You were just Sarah. Sweet, stubborn, determined Sarah. 

From that day on, I knew that I could scour the Earth and not come even close to finding anyone that makes my heart pound as much as you. I think that’s why I was constantly tailing you like a lost puppy, seeking you out and begging for a date. You’d always smile, look down at your feet, and then look back at me and say, “Maybe.”. Always ‘maybe’. Will you come to America with me? “Maybe”. Can I have this dance? “Maybe”. Do you imagine us together the same way I imagine us together? “Maybe”. 

The only time you never said that word was when I proposed in Grandpa Grant’s cabin by the lake. Immediately, you said yes as if it was automatic, entire eons leading up to the one moment when I was finally man enough to ask you those six words. Then, you proceeded to scream at me for asking you while you were naked. 

The ring I gave you was special, and you know that. I had to fight my sister for it for a while. Irene had a point, I guess. The ring was an heirloom, and it was Irene’s right to it since she was the oldest. She conceded, by the end, slapping the ring into her my hand with a huff and making me promise to buy you a new one once this war was over. I don’t think I will. I like how the ring looks on your finger, especially when you think I don’t see you smiling down at it. 

Enough about the past, though. I’m doing well, all things considered. Tim and George are great company, but I fear that they might get themselves killed one of these days. They aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but then again, who is? I like to hope that we all get out of this war in one piece so I can strangle both of them for the Hell they’ve put me through all this time. There’s a rumor cycling that there might be a huge turning point in the war, that we might actually be able to declare the war over. I don’t believe it, but I sure hope whoever this Mr. Prince fellow is, he gets his ass straight to work so I can finally

DIANA PRINCE

— london, england, 1939 —

Captain Sawyer was a plump, dainty man. His hands were almost as smooth as the patch of shiny bald skin on his head. Both dotted with brown spots from aging out in the sun, though Diana doubted that he spent any time in the sun. Maybe as a young man, ripe with age and vigor of life, running about in the sun during a friendly hunt with similarly looking men atop chocolate steads, she could picture him under the hot rays of the countryside sun. Now, Sawyer looked like what most men ultimately become; sweaty, balding, and pasty in the fluorescent lights of the British Air Force headquarters that have long since become Diana’s second home. 

“Prince, can I have a word?” His uniform was pressed to military regulations, no doubt about that, but the rest of him looked disheveled as he patted the lines on his forehead with a damp handkerchief. The gold and bronze metals looked dull on his breast, as if they were given, not earned. She supposed that’s how he got so far in the military. Having a father with power could get someone far in life, Diana has learned, especially if they were a son. Nevertheless, she had to respect the man for being one of the very few who didn’t smile slyly at her when she walked into a room. Small blessings, she told herself. Bare minimum, a voice like her mother grumbled. 

“Of course, sir,” she said, setting the stacks of paperwork down on her desk. The frames on the surface trembled with the weight of them, but they stood upright while Sawyer tucked the handkerchief back into his breast pocket. He cleared his throat, pinched eyes staring at the corner of the table with intense intent. “What have I done to be honored by your presence this morning?” 

He laughed, once. It came out dry and humorless, a polite way of condescending her. The older man sat down heavily on one of the chairs Diana had situated near the desk, the wood groaning under his weight as he shifted to a more comfortable position on the tatted cushions. “No need for pleasantries, Miss. Prince,” he started, waving a hand, “I came to ask you a favor,”

“What kind of favor?” 

This time, Sawyer took in a deep breath of air that puffed up his torso before deflating like a balloon. He fidgeted with a cufflink, shaking his head. “It’s a big one, I won’t lie to you. A friend in the German senate there’s been talks of an invasion that’ll be taking place soon,” 

Diana’s forced smile almost dropped for a second, but she caught it before it slipped completely off her face. She found that most men felt more comfortable when around a smiling woman. When they were comfortable, they tended to slip up more. “An invasion, sir?”

Sawyer leaned forward, using a hand to cup the side of his mouth as he whispered, “They made a pact to leave Poland alone during the Treaty of Versailles, but the Führer decided to take matters in his own hands,”. He looked up at her for a reaction, but when she didn’t give one, he continued, “My friend said it was only rumors. I didn’t think anything of it — you know how politicians make empty promises — until I saw the newspaper this morning,” Sawyer sighed, “Over a million German troops just invaded Poland,”

Diana’s blood ran cold and then hot. It felt scolding, bubbling under her skin, her face becoming tingly from the sudden rush. She knew Ares was dead. Her own body had been forged into a weapon of mass destruction out of lightning and clay for the sole purpose of killing the God. She delivered the final, devastating blow that turned her brother into ash with the same power their father had complete reign of. She already saw what war was capable of, has seen it devour entire villages and countries, consuming everything that was good in a man until there was nothing left but darkness in their hearts. Steve lost his life fighting in a war that had no Earthly or Divine purpose in. Sarah mourned the death of her husband, then endured the miscarriage of her child. Her son grew up without a father because of war. It was a starving monster, not satisfied until the earth burned and the sky flooded with gunpowder. 

So many have sacrificed everything to prevent it from ever happening again. It didn’t matter. The monster has starved for this long, and it was ravenous. 

“What happened with the Czech border?” she asked, her voice coming off high at the end like a whine. She swallowed. “Surely, they didn’t break the Treaty of Versailles for nothing,”

Sawyer sighed heavily, pulling open the sturdy uniform coat wide enough to slip out a beige folder with a scarlet haphazard inked font stamped across. “I’m afraid the time of Appeasement is over, Miss. Prince,” he grunted, “Britain and France are officially at war with Germany — again,” he paused, then added, “Though this time, I think it’s going to take a lot more than signing a piece of paper to end it,”

“Sir?”

Before the man could speak, Diana looked up from her desk to see something glimmer in the corner of her office. A flash of white, then it was gone. It could’ve been the trick of her imagination, long hours in the drab and mute building might be finally taking its toll on her. She blinked hard, and the flash didn’t reappear. It was odd. The way the light fluttered into the room wasn’t anything like the reflective lights from a car’s mirrors against the window — the edges of it soft and luminous. It wasn’t blinding, just illuminating the space that it occupied. She let out a breath, opening her mouth, then closing it when she realized that Captain Sawyer was talking to her. 

“This isn’t like anything we’ve seen before, Miss. Prince. They’re developing technology faster than we can get information,” he coughed, once, then shook his head, “The Führer has a man — a German that’s been on our watch list for a while. Our intel tells us that he’s heading his own department within the Nazi party. I don’t know what, but I can bet it doesn’t look good,” 

“But what does Britain have to do with Poland?” Diana rasped, swallowing down the hard lump in her throat with a grimace, “Why would Germany declare war on us?” 

“Miss. Prince, you misunderstood me. We declared war on Germany. I need you to start helping us issue conscriptions to all able-bodied men from the ages of eighteen to sixty-five,” 

Conscriptions. It was one thing, long ago, when a man chose to be a soldier. She recalled the epic poems and great works of writing that spoke of the honor of being a soldier back in the days of her birth. The mighty roar of young and old men coming together to defend their nations in historic feats of battles when fighting for your home really meant something — when faced with a threat to your home, your family, your friends called for drastic measures to be taken. She used to love the story of a woman in the cloak of darkness sweet talking her way into the tent of a tyrannical general only to behead him, bathed in the blood of her enemy while she and her maid held the thrashing beast down until his screams died off into gurgles and she presented the head of their leader to his men in a gory display mistaken for the wrath of an angry Goddess. It was seen as a privilege to fight for the King and nation. 

Steve once told her of how he joined the fight — how he realized that by joining the USAF, he could make a difference in a world that was currently falling into despair and ruin. He ran his fingers lightly over the curve of Diana’s bicep, smiling at her from his spot on the pillow next to her, their legs intertwined in a bed in a village that no longer existed. “My mom begged me not to join, and my brother didn’t speak to me for a few weeks, but … I don’t regret signing up. I didn’t do it for the uniform or the respect or anything like that. I did it because I wanted to protect them — my family. I wanted to protect everyone from the war, and in order to do that, I had to do something to end it,”. Despite the heartbreak and the pain, the loneliness and the sacrifices they both had to make to ensure the end of suffering on the global scale, Diana could never blame the nation. There was no one to point a finger at and scream, “This is all your fault,”, because it was Steve’s choice all along. He chose to sign up. He made the decision himself without coercion or guilt from another entity to risk his live for others. All the way until the end, Steve had complete control of his own fate. 

The choice of fighting in war was what made it noble. The desire to protect over glory was what made soldiers powerful in battle. It was etched into them from Ares to fight with the rage and hatred, but somewhere along the way, the Amazons made sure that that rage and hatred flourished into something more powerful in war. Rage turned into protection. Hatred became passion. To fight in a war meant to fight for others. 

Conscriptions, however, didn’t allow them that choice. It was forced — a deep governing Boogeyman come to tear sons from the arms of mothers and doll them up in armor, whispering hotly into their ear the promises of victory and the immortality of their legacy, only to throw them into the line of fire without hesitation. They weren’t soldiers, but puppets for the government to move and command while they hide behind desks and meetings without regard for the lives they are sending in their place. 

She had no one idea how she ended up storming into the conference room, her brow set and her teeth clenched hard enough to shatter under the trembling of her body. Wrath came off her in ways, making her head pulse from the force of it having to be contained before she leveled the entire building down to ash. The men in the room all looked at her with displeasure, wrinkled foreheads and squinted eyes as if leveling her up to see if they could knock her down before she could do the same to them. General Crellin stood at the head of the table with his hands clasped behind his back, a map of Europe with flags and small figurines being the only thing in the room that had color in the drab grey and plain brown.  

Sawyer followed her in, but kept his distance from her as he looked anywhere but the piercing eyes of the other men that outrank him — both in authority and intelligence. 

“You cannot issue conscriptions,” Diana said, her nails digging into the flesh of her palm. The men didn’t react, just watched. 

General Crellin cleared his throat, his mouth a thin line on his old and hardened face, leaning back to stare at her from under his eyelids with a chin held high. The presence was thick in the room, overpowering everyone else without even having to say a word. The air felt musty, hardly breathable once inside. He commanded respect — expected it — but Diana will never allow him the satisfaction of a Goddess’ blessings. “And you are?” 

“Diana Prince,”

Crellin grinned, then wagged a finger at her as he took a few steps towards her. He didn’t speak immediately, waiting for her to raise an eyebrow of intrigue before he continued, “Ah, yes, did you notice that?” he asked, sweeping a look at the men at the table, then turning to Diana, “There was no rank in front of that of your name, now is there, Miss. Prince?” 

She didn’t reply. Crellin’s grin grew wider. “So before I have you court martialed for your insolence, I’d like to know where you get off ordering me around?” 

“You’re putting millions of lives in danger if we go to war with Germany,” she said, but the men around her chuckled to themselves, “We must convene with them. Give them the chance to give us their demands,”

“This isn’t a scuffle between children, Miss. Prince. You’re talking about a nation who has a Goddamn secret army,”

Diana watched as Crellin came to a full stop about halfway towards her, his hands clasped behind his back with the patience of an older and wiser man. Had Diana not known who he was, she would’ve easily wrote him off as just another face in the vast London crowd. The line between his brows, though, told her all she needed to know about the patience of a war official. 

“As is their right. How are they supposed to defend themselves in case of an invasion? Who are they supposed to call upon in their time of need? An army isn’t just cause for a war,” 

“Now, young lady, I’ve entertained you enough for the afternoon. While I understand where you’re heart is on the matter, our nation cannot allow a previously … aggressive country to have an army that outnumbers us. Ignoring their activity against Poland would only encourage them further. What’s next? Italy? Spain? France? We need to attack them before they can attack us,” 

“You’re not listening to me, Crellin —”

“ General Crellin,”

“Just because you have a rank doesn’t mean you are untouchable,” Diana spat, “Out of everyone in this room, I believe I have the most authority when it comes to war games and I already asked nicely, so now I am ordering you to cease the decision to issue conscriptions,” 

Slowly, she saw the hardening of the man’s face go from rock to a mountain, deep set wrinkles growing dark and his eyes almost completely taken over with ire towards her. Good , she thought, Anger. I can deal with anger. 

“You have no right to speak to your superior in that way,” he growled, pointing a finger at her, “You amused me when you first walked in here, I admit, but you’re crossing a line that few have ever dared to cross. I want you out of this room, immediately,” 

“Not until you agree to stop the conscriptions,”

Crellin shot a glance at Sawyer, his anger now coming off him dramatically as he took in the other man’s nervous appearance and already confirmed what he believed to be true. “Your incompetence is alarming, Sawyer. It is your job to keep this woman in check,” 

Diana bulked. “I don’t need to be kept in check! ” she bellowed, rushing towards Crellin in only a few steps, her nose mere inches away from his and realized that under the anger, the man reeked of fear. It was just a small whiff, barely strong enough for anyone else to pick up on it, but it was enough to put the pieces in Diana’s hands now. “I fought in Germany during the Great War, General Crellin, so I believe that my insolence is justified,” 

“We cannot fight a war without men, Miss. Prince,”

“You have men! The ones that agreed to fight, and you will have more once the public is aware of the war. You don’t need to force them to fight because the government has its ego bruised,” 

“How dare y—!” 

“ I won’t allow you to send my son to war! ”

That was a mistake. 

She showed her underbelly, her Achilles’ heel, but most of all — she just gave Crellin a way to discredit her. A chink in her armor that every man in the office knew was there behind the bravado and strength that Diana has fought like hell to keep up since starting to work there, and now Crellin could see it. They all saw it. The thorn in every woman’s paw — her emotions and her maternal instincts have swayed her opinion. It wasn’t true. It was a significant amount of her worry, yes, but after everything that so many have sacrificed for peace? It was a gross disrespect on the graves of the millions of sons and brother who were lost to the price of a selfish nation. 

But men like Crellin don’t see it that way. A nation they thought was under their thumb wasn’t obeying, so they have to wind up their toy soldiers and send them marching in. After all, they were toy soldiers. 

And what boy has never broken a toy soldier before?

A smile tugged at the corner of the old man’s mouth, a chuckle slipping past his lips and it was foul. It felt like for the first time in her life, Diana was the prey about to have her throat ripped out by a hungry predator. She could see his features mix with that of a gigantic jungle cat, thought the elegance and finesse of the hunt was lost on the old man. Crellin looked towards the other men, holding their eyes for a moment as they all tried to hold back their snide laughter. Even Sawyer — mousy, cowering, runty —  started to laugh along with the other men as a sort of relieved sigh. Like he would be accepted if he just laughed along. 

There was a flash of light, and then Diana found herself flinging open the door of the restroom in a furious huff. The door bounced off the wall with a loud bang, plaster coming off in a fine powder as the knob imbedded itself deep inside it. The faces of the other agents all looked towards her, their plain and unmemorable faces blurring into those of the dead men and women she saw all those years ago. Women who used their bodies to shield their babies from gas and debris, screams deafening anyone in close radius more out of fear for the lives in their hands than their own. Men — practically boys — hyperventilating with a sweaty brow and grim stuck to their skin as they asked for their mothers, please, someone, I want my mom, where’s my mom? 

She grabbed the door hard enough to leave grooves, and slammed it shut to block out faces before they started turning into the unburied that use to litter the fields for months. 

The restrooms in the building were anything but comforting, all too pristine yet filthy at the same time to bring about any semblance of peace while at work. It was too big, too many places to hide and the air was thick with the stench that most bathrooms have. Urine, blood, feces … hardly a place someone would want to be in when feeling the myriad of emotions that were stewing inside her. 

But what emotions? She was angry, even livid. Her biceps jumped with the urge to put her fist in something, her throat was tight with the need to scream out to the Heavens for any lingering deity to hear, her face felt hot from the blood rushing under her veins spiked with the need to fight. There was anger, plenty of it, but it was like something else was holding her in its grip at the same time. Humiliation? Fear? Upset? She couldn’t put her finger on it. 

It didn’t matter. Diana wouldn’t linger in her mind to try and label them all with a neat little sticker like all the organized files had. She wasn’t a stack of documents to be sorted. Couldn’t really expect her to be able to calmly and accurately reduce her down to two or three paint emotions and leave it at that. 

“Fuck!” she hissed into the empty space before her, baring her teeth at no one in particular and ignoring the way her skin glowed like iron over a flame — angry red and sickening yellow. The pit in her stomach grew bigger, engulfing her almost completely. It wasn’t ever just one thing she was angry at. Diana had a tendency to snowball. A small scuffle with insignificant people turned into a picture show of Diana’s Greatest Hits. 

The memories of past regrets would show themselves in great detail despite how many times the Goddess would squeeze her eyes shut and try to will the thoughts away. Leaving Themyscira. Choosing to stay in London. Giving her son away to a complete stranger. Maiming that same, beautiful, small boy with a sword that weighed more than him. The look on his face when he screamed, holding the wound to his chest and backing away from the woman that hurt him on accident. Gods, the way he looked at her with Steve’s eyes — his father’s eyes! It felt like she was experiencing a nightmare while awake.  

She slammed her fist into the counter lined with sinks, cracking the ugly sea foam green titles underneath her hand without so much as a scratch on her skin. The noise cracked and echoed in the bathroom, bouncing off the walls and stalls, when she Diana finally realized that she wasn’t the only one in the bathroom. 

With a slow and sweeping glance, the brunette noticed a pair of scarlet Mary Jane’s from under the stall and a hiccuping breath to go with them. The girl didn’t seem to have minded Diana’s small tantrums just minutes earlier, remaining quiet while the older woman tried not to level the entire room. 

Diana’s heels clacked against the floor, and she brought her knuckles up for a chaste knock on the door. The person on the other side gasped, clearing her throat, but still managing to reply in the most pathetically watery voice the Goddess ever heard, “O-Occupied,” 

“Actually, I wanted to ask if you were alright,” Diana said, tilting her head closer to hear the girl sniffle and let out a shuddery gasp. There was an unhappy laugh that followed, the shuffle of more toilet paper being ripped off. The girl on the other side blew her nose loudly, sniffling and hiccuping just like how Steven did the last she saw him.

“Just feeling a little under the weather,” she finally replied, “Allergies”

Diana didn’t buy it. “Are you hurt? I can call for someone –“ 

“No!” the voice shouted, more startled than angry, and the latch on the stall door clicked open. Diana stood back as the stall revealed a young woman.

Her face screamed young and new, cheeks modestly powdered and full. Her jawline lacked any sharpness, round like a doll or a baby’s. Plump, pink lips gave her face an even color to match the slight tinge of red on her button nose and the underside of her eyelids. Big, round, doe eyes stared back at Diana in a shiny brown that matched the cascading curls that draped down her shoulders and two strategically hidden pins pulled strands away from her face. All in all, the young woman had a sweet, airy look to her that Diana sorely missed seeing in her own reflection. She held herself bashfully, head tipped down towards her chin as her hands picked at the wad of paper in her hands. Her uniform complimented her colors, but it looked wrong on such a young woman. She should be out in bright blue and canary yellow, smiling wide enough to bring out the apple of her cheeks. 

Instead, she stood meek and dull in the lights of the bathroom. A chewed up fingernail came up to scratch at her nose, darting away quickly as if Diana would chastise her for it. “See? Peachy keen,” she said in a sing-song voice, smiling a little as to mask her emotions. 

Woman and emotions. Show too much, and you’re labeled as hysterical. Show too little, and you’re labeled as unbecoming. 

The powder on her cheeks gave away the lines of tears that ran through, and Diana’s heart broke. “Obviously not,” the warrior muttered, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder softly. The girl allowed it, sinking into her touch with a sniffle. “Why are you crying alone in the bathroom?” 

“I could ask you the same,” the girl quirked a thin and feathery eyebrow at her, nodding towards the door and the doorknob-shaped hole left in the wall. It still spouted plaster down onto the tiles

Ah. That won’t be particularly easy to explain to someone other than Eta. She’s been praised before for her incredible strength – women asked how she got so strong yet remained so thin, and men sneered about how it was unattractive for a woman. She couldn’t just come out and admit that she was a Goddess, not when most people of English attended church every Sunday and chalked up legends as mere explanations for the unexplained. Fondly, she remembered the awe in Steve’s face when he realized that he was among the women of fables, the mighty Amazonians, that the stories he’d been taught as being merely that – stories – were real and the proof was in front of him. 

She also remembered how his eyes were the exact same color as the waters of Thymiscira. 

Looking at her, Diana can’t help but think about how she looked exactly like how she imagined her own daughter would look like. It would’ve been so easy to pretend that she was hers. 

It was much harder to replace a child, no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes weren’t bright like Steve’s or dark like Diana’s and they were far too big. Her statue didn’t match her own, nor did she possess the confidence that Steve once did. Her baby boy, her son, her greatest love of her life, her Steven — he looked so much like his father as a baby with a hint of herself. He was tiny, tiny, tiny in her arms, yet held onto her finger so tightly she felt like it would bruise her down to her very bones. 

But it was neither here nor there.

Diana shrugged, plastering a thin smile on her face. “I asked first,” 

The girl was quiet for a moment, but eventually her resolve broke and suddenly, her soft feature screwed up in a frown and pinched eyebrows as tears started to fall. A whine made it past her lips, loud and keening like a wounded animal. “ God! ” she said, shaking her hands in front of her chest, “It’s so stupid! It’s not like I lost national secrets or broke expensive military equipment. I just … misfiled something in the wrong folder. That’s it! But no, of course Sergeant Keen had to tell everyone about how incompetent I am at doing something a monkey could do!” 

“He said that?” 

“Well, yes, but he’s right! I should’ve double checked or asked someone or …” she deflated, wiping a finger under her chocolate eyes, “My brother was right. Who am I kidding? I can’t handle this job. It’s my first week and I’m already the stupidest person in this entire building,”

“No, you aren’t,” Diana snapped, her jaws clenched so tightly against one another that she felt the pressure in her temple. “Don’t ever say that about yourself. You made a mistake, we all do. It doesn’t give him the right to treat you that way,” she paused for a moment to tsk at the girl, cupping her soft face in her hands gently and wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks, “He should be ashamed for making you sad,” 

“I’m not sad,” the girl sighed, her mouth twisting up into a snarl with pearly teeth and narrowed eyes, “I’m furious, livid, angry. My problem is that my stupid body’s response to it. I want to scream and punch things — like you did — but, I always end up crying,”  

“Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing,” Diana started, already seeing the girl dismiss her with a sigh and huff, “No, listen to me. There’s so much pent up inside you that it has to come out one way or the other. You hate how they treat you, right?” the girl nodded, “So use it,” 

“I can’t just burst out and punch someone in the face,” she whined, looking up at Diana while blowing her nose. She looked so young. “It’s not polite,”

“ Fuck polite,” the Goddess replied, taking the thin shoulders under her hands and looking her in the eye, “Stop worrying about being lady-like. You know what’s lady-like? Anger . Use it. Show them that you aren’t here to be their punching bags, dear. Scream back. Fight back,” 

“But —,”

“It’s a woman’s place to be in charge,” Diana remarked, pulling back and digging into her breast pocket, “The Greeks worshipped a woman for war strategy. Athena was smart, wise, and never allowed a man to tell her she needed to take her war paint off,” she found the small gold tube and uncapped it, twisting the bottom until the deep rogue was popping up from the lip. She lifted the girl’s chin up with her fingers, thumbing at her bottom lip to open them wide enough to paint on the deep red color onto her pink lips, “And every woman needs her war paint to show them we are not sheep. We’re lionesses soaked in the blood of our enemies,”

Once satisfied, she turned the other woman towards the mirror. The color helped make her pop out against the dreary and dull bathroom setting, forcing the eye to look at her and listen. The girl wiped fiercely at her eyes, trying to get as much snot and tears off of her while she stared at her own reflection. Her mouth was ajar and her eyes wide as she took a step closer to the reflection. 

“My god,” she whispered, “I’m gorgeous!” 

“Yeah,” Diana smiled, rubbing her arms, “You don’t look like a monkey to me, sweetie,”

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it with a click, before opening it again. “I just realized that I didn’t catch your name,” 

“My name is Diana. Diana Prince. And you?” 

She smiled, wide with crinkles in the corner of her eyes as she stuck a hand out and straightened her back. “I’m Margret Carter, but my friends call me Peggy,” 

Crellin approved the conscriptions to all able-bodied men in Britain. 

The news only took two hours to reach Diana in the form of an expressionless woman holding a stack of papers to her chest. She rattled off a repeated and tired line, her eyes not really looking at the Goddess. She was there one moment and then gone the next the moment Diana stepped foot in her office. She didn’t stick around to see the other woman breathe out harshly, slamming her hands on her desk. 

Something small trembled in the middle of her desk mat, bringing her attention to the space between her hands. The light from the window made it glisten and shine. It was blinding how beautiful it was, enchanting Diana to pick it up and hold it in front of her face for closer inspection. It was a brilliant cut surrounded by tinier diamonds — the whole thing looked like a vintage flower. The band’s outside had minute scratches and discoloration on the sides as if someone would rub at it almost everyday. The inside of the gold band read simply ‘ I love you’ in a neat script that looked far too old to be a modern ring found in just any store. This was much older than anything sold nowadays. 

She’s seen it before.

On the ring finger of a young woman who always tried her hardest to impress Diana, but always failed — not because she wasn’t good enough, but because she was fighting fiercely in an uphill battle against the brunette's own jealousy. A woman who she once saw take her child into her arms as he cried and swayed him while she sang a lullaby, a dull dusty pink drop-waist dress swishing in the open space of the apartment. She watched the woman’s hands as she rubbed his back soothingly, and she thought to herself about how much she despised how quickly the baby quieted when all Diana seemed to do was make him shriek and howl. The young woman looked at her with suspicious eyes, singing softly into the ear of the baby as he cooed. 

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don’t you cry.

Diana looked up from the ring and saw the dazzling light again. She knew she didn’t imagine it this time. It lingered for a moment, soft around the edges with tinsels of shimmering gold and warm like sunshine. It floated from across the room towards the window, and Diana could only watch as the cream lace and tulle disappeared into the curtains flapping in the wind.

 She blinked hard. Huh. Huh. She could’ve sworn that in the warmth, she saw the faintest of lines of a gentle face. There were eyes, a nose, a mouth, hair. The goddess couldn’t exactly make out most of it, but she knew she didn’t imagine it.

What she didn’t know was how the ring appeared on her desk in the middle of the day and why the face mouthed, “Save him,” 

Peggy Carter reference: 

Ring reference: