For the first time in six years of working at the Louvre, the untiring Diana Prince was tired. Not physically, mind it, but mentally. Some recent instructions coming from the higher levels had forced everyone in the museum to work twice, if not three times harder than the usual. That required working faster to process any piece coming in or going out, staying longer hours and if people took private commissions, like she did, they had to be done outside working hours.
It was now late July and this situation had been going on for the past six months. It had begun in preparation of an official visit of the British Royal Family, which had required not only lots of work on the curators' side to ensure their experience with the museum would be as positive as it could be, possibly educating but also fun and entertaining to keep the young George and Charlotte from getting distracted and wander off. Other than that, there was also the upped security measures that had made everything even harder because employers weren't allowed to move as freely as before and that made things a lot slower.
The recent official VIP visit had brought a surge of tourist and therefore the Ministry had ordered the museum employees to keep going at that rate to keep the flow of paying customers at that level. High season had become higher seasons and there were no signs of stopping it, not since pieces from her father's collection started appearing in the museum and they gathered even more attraction. The number of pieces he had donated was staggering and since she had completed the deal she was in charge of the appraisal, the cleaning and the cataloguing and the place they would hold inside the many rooms dedicated to Ancient Greece and the Middle East in general.
That way, Diana spent nearly fourteen hours in her office or downstairs in the lab five days a week, often clocking in even on saturday for four to six hours more, not to mention the additional hours she had done in the Spring as a guide for high school and university students on school trips or internship at the museum, then there was the not so frequent but even more important side job as Wonder Woman, that kept her always on the edge.
She had never needed to endure such long periods of work-related stress, not in recent years at least. Sure, there had found herself in stressful situations, but not for so long and certainly not in recent years. Also, she wasn't alone anymore. She wasn't free to delve in her job, pull as many all nighters as she pleased, since her home was cold and empty. She had someone to come home to now. And Steve was getting increasingly worried about her stress levels.
He kept telling her to slow down, to let one of her numerous assistances to deal with the petty affairs of curating a museum like the bureaucracy and the cleaning of little pieces of little importance, but she was almost addicted to her job, she couldn't other people do what she felt was her duty. She was trying to change her attitude towards it, but it was so deeply ingrained in her that she found it very difficult to do so. She tried her best, and yet most of the time she came home when the sun was setting - and in summer it set pretty late in Paris - and she was out before it rose.
That situation couldn't go on for long, she was about to explode. She felt it, the nagging feeling in an incoming outburst behind her eyes. And Gods only knew what she could do, if she reached the melting point. She was even starting to feel the effect of sleep deprivation, and she was never one that needed many hours of sleep to function. She relied on a couple of additionals cups of coffee for a quick pick me up in case of extreme emergency, but those were very few and scattered around the year, now had tripled her normal intake of caffeine and still felt occasionally worn out.
"Diana, you need a break," said Steve one Saturday morning he had come to work with her. She had been filing paperwork all morning, not exactly a taxing job but she knew he noticed she tended to wander off her set course. "You can't go on like this, how many of your colleagues have taken days off now?"
"All of them, on turnation," she revealed. "Just wait until August comes. I have the whole month off and I can take some more in September. Don't worry, I'll take a break."
"Are you sure you can't take some time off now?" he pushed. "You look wrecked Diana, I know it's just a week until you get your month of vacation but you're exhausted, and it takes more than just going to work to get you to this point! Everyone is beyond worn out here, and you're the only one that has never taken a day off despite…"
She arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "Despite what?"
"Your other job…" he mumbled, afraid to be heard by some nosy colleagues. "And don't tell me it doesn't tire you. Two weeks ago you passed out after you helped with the evacuation of that town in Germany during that flood."
With a sigh, Diana pinched the bridge of her nose and set the pen down on the desk, beside the pre compilated document she was filling. "Just… just wait until Sophie and Marcel's retirement party. It's in six days, they're some of the best colleagues I've ever had the pleasure to work with, I'd like to be there for their last day here."
"I can live with that, just… slow down, please," he almost begged. "I just would like to see my girlfriend and hopefully soon to be wife at home a little more."
"Just a while longer. It's just for a few days, then we're off. Wherever you want to go."
"You know very well where I want to go," he replied. "Where I want you to go."
She leaned back on her chair. "Insistent, are you?"
"Diana, I want to do things the proper way. I want to ask your mother the permission to marry you, also you two need to talk, and this time for real. Listen to me, you know I had very bad unresolved shit with my father when I left for the front and I never had the chance to fix it, but you do. You said Zeus was going to talk to her, right? Well, I think your mother will be more inclined to speak sincerely with you about this matter, if he went there. And don't ask me why, but I have a hunch he went."
"What makes you so sure?"
Steve shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, a feeling. I think your extended family has finally realized you're not going to murder them all and has decided to come and help you. In their own way."
"I don't even know if I want their help," she murmured. "I mean, I only met Hephaestus and Zeus and they were both polite and sort of helpful, but what about the others?"
"Well, from my limited experience with Hades, they don't want to impose. They just decided to come forward. I don't know, maybe they thought it was about time."
She chuckled. "Or maybe they thought I wouldn't go on a murderous rampage on them since you're back with me."
"Your guess is just as good as mine. Now that you make me think of it, when did you meet Hephaestus?"
With a smile, she pushed a compiled sheet on a pile and grabbed another one. "I needed a blacksmith. Ares destroyed my sword, and my original shield didn't fare that good, after World War II. Too many deflected mortar shots. I found this guy in Norway, in the late sixties, he was said to be the best blacksmith in the world so I went to see him in his workshop and the moment I walk in, he blasts the hammer on his hands and lets out the worst sequences of curses and blasphemies I could think of… in the language that would become Ancient Greek. Now tell me, why would a Norwegian blacksmith talk that way?"
"I don't know, maybe he was a very cultured blacksmith."
"More like he was Hephaestus in disguise. He looked like he had seen a ghost when I replied in the same language. He knew I knew something wasn't right about him and he simply dropped the disguise. That's how I learned that the Gods hadn't died at all during the war with Ares, they had just decided to step away and let mankind be, trying to live normal lives," she revealed. "We talked for a short while, but I quickly realized he's not exactly very talkative so I just explained what I needed and let him work his magic. In the end, he made the shield and the sword out of the same metal as my gauntlets, that way they would resist pretty much everything. I even managed to wound Doomsday, two years ago. And the shield held back his blasts. Works of art, those weapons, I tell you."
"They're also very good looking. They could be exposed in a museum, if they weren't so… new, I guess."
"And dangerous. Now, let me finish this stack and we can go home."
Those six days were gruelling. Diana had to finish all the paperwork, before all the backstage works of the museum closed off for a month of holiday for all the employees, then she needed to finalize the last details of an upcoming exposition that would take place from November to the end of January, at the height of the winter season and then, finally, came the retirement party.
It was a low key dinner in a nice restaurant just around the corner, one of those hidden gems that Paris kept a secret. Away from the tourist flow, it was quiet enough and allowed people to actually enjoy their meals, not rushing people out to accommodate new customers, they let you in as long as you wanted. Ever since she had started working at the Louvre, every retirement party had been held there, and she had come to love the place. It was nothing exceptional, speaking of furnishment, but the waiters were nice and the food was always spot on. And most of all, the menu changed almost every day, to follow the seasons and their produce and have them always fresh.
Dinner went quite well, with no issues at all and they were now enjoying a coffee or a glass of liquor to let the mountain of food ingested settle down and digest a little better, chatting of this, that and nothing at all, when the topic of conversation moved to vacations. Where would the curators of the Louvre go during their time off?
"And you, Diana? Where are you going?" asked one of her colleagues, specialized in medieval manuscripts.
"Uhm… I don't know?" It was more of a question than an answer. "Steve took care of it, I didn't have much time to think about anything."
He was sitting beside her, silently enjoying a slice of chocolate cake when all eyes moved on him. He quickly chewed the bite in his mouth and swallowed to answer the question. "Italy!" he exclaimed. "Road trip, southbound, through the major cities. I haven't been there in ages and mostly it was because of work, when I was in the Navy. Never had the chance to stop by and just enjoy the places. Can't wait to see the Valley Of The Temples, in Sicily."
Thing is, she had no idea that was his plan. Or was it just a quick answer to appease her colleagues? With him, one could never be sure what was real and what wasn't. He was such a good liar, sometimes it scared her, how sincere he could look when he was actually lying about everything.
"With Diana as a guide, it must be an incredible trip! Any other interesting places?"
He nodded. "Yes, absolutely. Firenze, Roma, couple of days in Napoli then off to Pompeii and Ercolano to see the archeological excavations. Oh yes, and to visit a friend. He owns a restaurant in Amalfi and we were referred to it. The coast there is awesome, so I was thinking we could just go and enjoy even that place."
"Just hope you don't get another heat wave like last year," replied another colleague. "I was in Firenze last year, in August. It was like swimming, the air was so hot and humid it cut my breath short. Then the air conditioning inside the Uffizi gallery broke and they had to evacuate the museum to protect the paintings. From the heat. Crazy, uh?"
"We're lucky Paris isn't subject of heat waves so often," commented Diana. "Some of the pieces we have would crumble to pieces without a stable air conditioning system."
"Don't even mention it. Sometimes I curse the day I decided to specialize in tapestry restoration. Those could really get ruined by a little more humidity in the air," said Marcel, one of the newly retired curators. "Fabric was never made to make it through the test of time, they were hung around in places that were often too cold or too warm, with candles made of tallow and open fires that covered them in soot and dirt, sometimes even oily spots. Cleaning them is a pain in the side, you're luck Diana you work with marble, most of the time."
"It's not like marble doesn't present its own difficulties, Marcel," she replied. "It's hard to clean without damaging it, it's like you have to strip layer of dirt after layer and it takes months sometimes to restore one single statue. Years, in worst case scenarios."
"You said you worked on the restoration of the Ara Pacis down in Rome, right?" asked someone she didn't really know. "During university, if I remember correctly. Must have been a good school for restoring marble the correct way. Though the museum itself is a little bit… I don't know… too modern for my tastes."
She nodded. "Yes, it was. I was there only for the latter part of the restoration efforts and only for a couple of months, but it was a great way to learn how to clean marble."
The rest of the night continued on a similar note, alternating little anecdotes about work and all the experiences they had gathered before arriving at the Louvre, what they wished for the future of the museum and hopes for the upcoming month of vacation. Many of them would remain in France, but some others would go abroad like Diana and Steve. One of their youngest colleagues also revealed that she would leave for two months of exchange at the Hermitage in Russia, later that year, the last details had been finalized just that afternoon.
In the end, that terrible, stressful and agonizingly long period of forced workaholism came to its last moments on a merry note, with great food, great wine and most of all, great company. Even Steve, who by his own acknowledgment wasn't that much into art was more than happy to join the various conversations that came to life about the table.
As they walked home, with a cool breeze coming from the North stripping the city of the residual heat of the late July sun that had shone earlier that day, Diana felt a strange sense of calm, wash over her, while the adrenaline left her bloodstream with each step they took towards their home. But there was something she needed to know.
"How much of what you told the others about our vacation was true?" she asked Steve, at some point.
"Some of it was. First, yes, we're going to Italy, at least for a couple of days. Second, I wouldn't mind seeing the Valley Of The Temples with you, one day or another, but I doubt we'll manage to do it this time. Third… It's not exactly a road trip, because we'll sail for most of the distance we will travel."
"And how did you manage to get hold of a boat? I know Bruce pays you well, but I don't think well enough to afford one."
He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a sly smile. "I have my methods. Don't worry, even one hundred years forward in time, I can be pretty resourceful."
"Do I need to worry about it? Usually your resourcefulness involves lying, murdering and smuggling."
"Nothing to worry about. For once, I did things the correct and legal way. I just have friends in very high places, that's all. In a couple of days, give or take some hours, we should be sailing from Amalfi headed to Themyscira."
Diana stopped in her tracks. "How high, exactly?"
Steve turned towards her, with that enigmatic grin still printed on his face. "Uhm, how high is Mount Olympus?"
Baffled, but not so much, Diana decided to let it go. He seemed so happy with his feats she didn't want to ruin his joy. "Alright then. When are we leaving?"
"Tomorrow. We better get home and pack our things, the plane leaves at noon, we better hurry."
At least the restaurant wasn't that far away from their apartment and they hadn't left too late. Packing always got her a little flustered. Packing for a six-weeks-long trip that would take her home… that was even worse. Yes, part of the time she would wear modern clothes, but back at home she would be given something else, something more suitable for Themyscira. What did she really need to bring? Steve had said it would take
She stared at her open wardrobe, trying to figure out what to take with her, when the noise of Steve's duffel bag being closed shut startled there, the zip tearing the thick silence that had fallen in the room. "Wait, you're already done?"
"Yes. If there's something you learn in the army, or the navy in my case, is how to pack your things quickly. Also, it's summer, no need to take too many things with me. Enough underwear changes and socks, a pair of jeans, shorts, t-shirts, one good shirt because you never know where we're going to eat down in Amalfi, good shoes so I won't slip from the boat…" he recounted as if checking if he had packed everything. "Swimming trunks, sunscreen, sunglasses… I guess I have everything. Also, I can always wash things, right?"
Diana nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I just really, really hope my mother will let you set foot on the island."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry, I have books with me too. Real books, printed on paper. You said electronic devices don't work on the island, so I came prepare. I'll find a way to entertain myself."
Taking a deep breath, she sat on the bed and laid down on it for a moment, stretching her back. "You really planned this down to the last detail, uh?"
Steve grabbed the handles of the bag and set it beside the door of their bedroom, then leaped on the bed himself, beside her. "It's kind of my first vacation as an adult, so yes, I planned it very carefully. It also serves a double purpose. You need to reconcile with your mother, I need to talk to her. Or at least try. It's not like I think she should make decisions in your stead, like who you're going to marry and old, that's way too retrograde for me. But I want her to know that no matter what will happen I'll try my best to make you the happiest woman on Earth."
"You don't want to ask her permission to marry me?" she wondered.
He shook his head and kissed her forehead. "No, not at all. I want her to be sure that her beloved daughter will be happy. Because I'll do my best to make her happy. I don't need her permission, you're more than capable to decide for yourself, be it what kind of ice cream you what or who you want to marry. I just think it would be polite to tell her I'm going to be your husband. That's it."
"Uhm, are you sure you were born in 1882?"
He smiled. "Let's just say I feel way more at ease now than how I felt back in the day. And that you opened my mind a lot. Well, you and Etta. Damn that girl was a amazing, wasn't she?"
"And she only got better with age. She made MI6 what she is now. She was even the source of inspiration of a couple of characters in a popular series of books. Which in turn became a very popular series of movies."
The confused look on his face was pricelessly cute. "Did I see them?"
"Don't think so. I'm a fan of the older ones, the last two that came out were kind of lacking in my opinion, I never thought about it. I'll make you watch them when we come home. Some of them are actually great spy movies, I'm quite sure you'll like them. After all, James Bond is an icon, and I have to say some of the songs from the main themes were amazing."
She finally stood and grabbed one of the suitcases from the top shelf of the wardrobe, opened it and set on the bed, then started getting things out of said wardrobe. "I think I'm going to follow your way. Simple and minimalistic. I doubt I'll wear normal clothes for too long, as soon as I set foot on the island."
He chuckled, behind her, as he started unbuttoning his shirt. "That's the spirit. Also, I wouldn't mind if you wouldn't wear those clothes for too long even right now, because when I said I want to make you happy, I meant that I do want to make you happy."
With a chuckle, she threw a t-shirt at him, which landed squarely on his face, much to his delight. "And you say I'm the greey done?"
"You have your moments." He took his shirt off and she had to admit, once again, that she loved to see him naked. For a moment, her memory flew back at that night in the Pools on Themyscira, when she had walked in at the same time he was getting out of the pools, stark naked and definitely above average. Or at least above whatever she had in mind, when she thought about the then foggy concept of males she had been given by her mother and her fellow Amazons. At the time, lust wasn't an unknown concept to her, but for a moment it had taken her all her willpower to refrain from doing something too rushed and maybe scare him off. Or maybe at the time it was just curiosity? She had absolutely no idea, but one thing was sure: with all the different experiences she had before she left the island and after, Steve was indeed above average, but because she was in love with him.
And the fact that he was taking such great care to make sure she would get all the answers she wanted from her mother, even preparing himself for spending days if not weeks confined on a boat because there was still the chance he wouldn't be allowed to set foot on Themyscira, that alone made her want him even more.
That man was a gem, and she was sure they had broken the mold, after he had been born.
With a soft grunt, she finally escaped her memories and thoughts so she could go back to her packing. The sooner she'd be done, the better. After all, it wasn't like Steve was wrong about her, being a little greedy when it came to sex. She had her moments, that moment was one of those.