AN: Hello, dear reader. Hope you like it :)

13

third trimester (7 months)

"Is there really nothing I can say to make you stay, Diana? I really don't want to lose you," Monsieur Martínez tells me.

I smile but shake my head. "Unfortunately, no. I've absolutely loved my time here, and I'll be eternally grateful for the trust that was given to me. But I want to be with my daughter. I don't want to miss anything. Time will fly. You understand that. You have kids."

Monsieur Martínez nods and leans back with an exhale. "Time flies indeed. Oh, well. I'm not going to pretend I'm not devastated, but I get it. They do grow up fast. You'll always be welcome here, Diana. If at any point you want to come back, please do. While I'm here, you'll always have a place at the Louvre, if you want it."

I place a hand over my heart and nod. "Merci, Jean Luc. For everything. But there's still work to be done. So this is not goodbye yet."

He stands, and I follow him. "Ma chère, I hope you will allow me to throw you a goodbye party. I know many people here will be sad to hear the news and will want to say goodbye to you."

My immediate thought is to turn him down, but the people I've come to know in this museum are dear to my heart. There's a good chance I might not see many of them again. So I nod. "Of course. Thank you again."

He kisses my knuckles. "You're a very special person, Diana. Despite losing you, I am very happy for you."

I walk out of his office, deciding to take the long way back to mine. I wasn't expecting to feel so emotional. I've experienced this quite a few times already—the shift into a new era of my life. The moment where I have to start cutting ties so I can leave and move on to the next place, the next version of myself. I've been a librarian, a teacher, an interpreter, and an antiquities director. It's always hard to leave the life you've spent time building, but over the years, I've gotten used to it. Yet, it was always sad. It was always lonely.

This time is different, though.

This time, for the first time, I don't have to do it alone. I have Steve. I have Barbara Ann. And in two months, I'll have Maia.

I can't help but feel emotional. It's such a profound feeling, knowing that you're loved and therefore never alone.

I take a deep breath and manage to keep the tears at bay. I walk through the museum and enjoy watching the people who've come from all corners of the world to visit the Louvre. I walk past the Impressionism section, and a familiar face catches my eye.

"Monsieur Llodra?"

I take a seat next to him. He turns, a bit startled, having been very focused on the Manet painting in front of him.

"Ah, Madame Prince." He looks down at my belly and then back at me. "Let me just say you look absolutely radiant, my dear."

He says this with a big smile, but the sadness is evident in his eyes.

"Thank you," I say, rubbing my belly with a soft smile. "Monsieur Llodra, I heard about your son's passing. I'm so very sorry for your loss. How have you been?"

He smiles sadly and turns back to the painting. "There are good days, bad days, and terrible days. Unfortunately, I don't wake up to many good days."

That feeling is a little too familiar. It began with Steve, and it took a very long time for my bad and terrible days to become less frequent. But then, as Charlie, Sammy, Chief, and finally Etta died, I found myself waking up to terrible days almost every day. The thing that made it worse was the loneliness.

He continues. "You know, he absolutely loved this museum. Lucas used to say that museums were the perfect place to see the wonders of the world in mere hours, and this beautiful building made him feel like he could wander around every continent. I don't know if it means much, but I will be forever grateful to the Louvre for having given my son the opportunity to see the world when he couldn't venture too far. Now, though, I can't quite find the strength to leave and go home. I feel his presence here."

I feel the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. Monsieur Llodra is such a gentle and sweet man, and it breaks my heart to see him like this.

"I know how it feels. I, too, have lost people in my life. It's not fair, is it? Why is it that we're forced to watch as people we hold so dear leave us, and we're left to somehow try to live our lives without the ones who gave them meaning?"

He turns to look at me, his eyes a little wider than before, then glances back at the painting.

"Madame Prince, I'm so sorry. You're pregnant, and I'm stirring up unwanted feelings. Please, ignore the silly words of an old man."

I shake my head and touch his shoulder gently. "It's alright, and your words are not silly. You're in pain, and, for what it's worth, you're braver than I am. You speak about your feelings with no shame, while I often tried to push mine down into a place where they weren't felt. But that doesn't really work, does it?"

Monsieur Llodra smiles gently, reaching for my hand on his shoulder and patting it a couple of times.

"Non, it does not."

I hear more people coming into the gallery, and not wanting to leave him alone, I ask, "Would you like a cup of coffee, Monsieur Llodra? I have some time before my next meeting. I would like the company."

He looks at me for a couple of seconds, and I can see him fighting his feelings. I know the pull of wanting to stay in one place and let the pain eat you alive. Why is that something we feel drawn to do? I don't know. But what I do know is that I will try to delay that for him as much as I can. But I can't help him if he won't let me.

Finally, he nods. I nod too, and we walk quietly to my office.

I walk past Emilie and tell her I don't want any interruptions unless it's urgent.

"Oui, Diana."

"Just down the stairs, Monsieur Llodra."

I point towards the stairs and follow closely behind.

"Sit, please."

He sits down, his cane shaking slightly as he puts his weight on it. I move to the coffee maker and put a pod in.

"You've experienced heavy loss, too?"

I turn to look at him and nod. "A long time ago, I fell in love. He was a captain in the army. He died protecting others. I couldn't save him."

I realize what I'm saying as I'm saying it. I didn't mean to say the last part. But there's something about Monsieur Llodra… I feel like I can trust him.

He cocks his head, a look of surprise on his face. "You were in the armed forces?"

I sit opposite him. The coffee machine starts to gurgle. "I fought alongside him."

I decide not to fully lie to him. Instead, I tell him part of the truth.

He huffs, tapping the floor with his cane a couple of times. "Madame Prince, forgive me for being this forward, but you're quite a phenomenal woman."

I smile and shake my head. "I'm not. I just try to help."

He smiles but then a look of conflict descends on his face.

"Funny, isn't it? How we're given the tools to save countless lives, and yet, when it comes to the people closest to us, those tools are worthless? I'm a doctor. I was part of the team that created the stem cell treatment for leukemia, and twenty-five years later, my son gets that same type of cancer, and for some reason, my treatment doesn't work on him. I buried my son a month ago. All the money that I have, all the experience… It didn't help him. How do you live with that?"

He's angry. Just like I was. What good was it to be Wonder Woman if I couldn't save everyone I held dear? Not Antiope, not Steve, not Etta, or Sammy, or Chief, or Charlie.

"I'm going to tell you the exact same thing my mother told me when I asked her a similar question: You can't save everyone, Monsieur Llodra. You do your best and you hope that's enough and sometimes, it isn't. But if you tried your best, then there's nothing you should feel guilty about."

He looks straight at me and I keep eye contact, making sure that he knows that I meant what I said. Just like my mother meant it when she said it to me.

"I wish I could accept that."

I exhale and lean forward, resting my arms on my desk. "You're grieving, Monsieur. Right now, you don't see it, but you will in time. You knew your son better than anyone. Do you think he would've blamed you for not curing his cancer? The few times I met him, he only had good things to say about you. He's no longer suffering."

A tear slides down his cheek, but he wipes at it quickly. "I feel lost, Madame Prince. It's always been the two of us. His mother left us when he was six months old. I have no siblings and the rest of my family is scattered all around the world. I have lost the reason I fought so hard to move forward. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

My hands automatically move to my belly.

No. No parent should have to bury their child. Just the thought of it…

He clears his throat in an attempt to clear the trembling in his voice. "I should go. I shouldn't be burdening you with my sorrows. You're expecting a child, such a joyous thing and I'm here talking about death. Please, forgive me."

I shake my head. "Death is a part of life, Monsieur Llodra. But so is happiness. In my case, I only need to look down to remember that. Your grief and your pain have a strong hold on you but that won't always be the case. You will find happiness again. You just have to look for it and be patient. It's going to be hard but I just have a feeling you will find purpose again. For Lucas and for yourself."

He doesn't try to wipe his tears this time and I don't either.

"You are wise beyond your years, Madame Prince."

I smile at that. "I'm not as young as I look and please, call me Diana."

Monsieur Llodra chuckles at that. "Then call me Thomas."

I stand up as the coffee machine beeps. "Is there any family you can go to? It always helps being surrounded by family."

He nods. "A cousin of mine who lives in Puglia has been asking me to spend some time with him. He calls me every week to check on me and every week he asks. I've turned him down every single time."

I place the mug in front of him. "May I ask why?"

Thomas grabs the mug and looks at the dark liquid for a few moments. "This may sound strange but I'm afraid of happiness."

I frown and sit back down. "Happiness?"

He nods. "Oui. Just the thought of it terrifies me. It feels… comment pouvez-vous dire? To feel joy, to smile, to laugh… it feels wrong to even entertain the thought of pursuing it. My son never went to Puglia. There are no memories of him attached to that place. I'm afraid that by going there I might find it—happiness. A happy life where my son is not breathing and living? That very sentence is a contradiction."

I nod. "Feeling happiness does not diminish the importance of Lucas' loss. Grief is not linear, Thomas. There are days when you'll be able to remember him and smile. Just like there will be days when it feels like the day he passed. It takes time to learn how to live your life without the ones you loved, but it can be done. You just need to be kind to yourself and be with people who can remind you in case you forget."

Thomas chuckles. "Don't tell me you have a degree in psychology too?"

I laugh. "No, like I said, I've been through what you're experiencing. I chose to be alone and I didn't have to be. Looking back, I wish I had gone home to my mother. Don't make the same mistake I made. Go be with your family."

He takes a sip of his coffee. "Maybe you're right."

I lean back and smile. "I am right."

He laughs and that familiar glint in his eyes pops up.

"There it is. See? You can still laugh."

He nods. "Okay, Diana. Just because you've made such an impressive case of it. I'll try."

I clap my hands in front of me and bring them under my chin. "Good! It's the right choice. You'll see."

"I hope it is, my dear. I hope it is. Now tell me," he says tapping the table, eager to change the subject.

"How long until that baby comes, huh? Can't be long now. I hope the Louvre is giving you the time you need. If not, Jean Luc will get an earful from me." He tells me, wagging his finger at me.

I laugh and rest my hands on my ever-growing belly. "I'm a little over 7 months along. Actually, I…"

I debate whether I should tell him the news now. Things have a habit of reaching ears once more than one person knows the information. But I know, if anyone will truly understand my reasons, it's Thomas. So I decide right then and there to share the news with him.

"Can you keep a secret, Thomas?" I ask him, leaning back on my chair.

He's taken aback by my question but he nods. "Of course."

"Before I ran into you, I had just come out of a meeting with Monsieur Martínez. I handed in my one-month notice."

He doesn't react. He just stares deep into my eyes. "Has your partner asked you to quit?"

I shake my head vehemently, understanding the look he's giving me. "No. This is my decision. Steve was actually surprised when I brought up the subject."

Thomas' shoulders relax. "Do forgive me for feeling protective of you, Diana. I was already prepared to give the American a couple of whacks with my cane if he was in any way suggesting you quit a job you're excellent at. But if it's your decision, who am I to try and change your mind?"

I laugh at the funny image of Steve trying to duck from Thomas' cane.

"This is 100% my decision. I want to be there. I don't want to look back and regret not being there to witness all her firsts. I want to even get out of Paris and find somewhere where she can run and breathe fresh air. That part we haven't figured out yet. But, unfortunately, that life and my job here are not a match. It's one or the other. When it came down to it, it wasn't a hard decision to make."

He smiles. "It is the right decision. You will love it, Diana. Oh, you will! I am sad that you'll leave your job here but you will have plenty of work. So, it's 'she' you're having?"

Thomas and I talked for a little while longer. He left with higher spirits and I was glad to be able to talk with him. So many things rot when left unspoken.

I finished my meetings for the day but before I went home, I had one more thing that needed to be done.

I press the red button that connects to Emilie's phone and put the receiver to my ear.

"Oui, Diana?" she answers after one ring.

"Can you come down for a second?"

"Be right there."

I hear the door open and the click-clack of her heels as she comes down the stairs. Emilie is a short woman. She has beach blonde hair and kind brown eyes. She's been working with me for three years now. She is definitely one of the people I'll miss the most.

Emilie is the kind of person you know you can rely on. She's extremely professional—always on time, only taken a sick day once, she's proactive, among other things. In other words, she's been my right hand here at the Louvre.

"Take a seat, please." I tell her, pointing at the chair.

She freezes for a second since this is the first time I've asked her to sit but she does.

"Is everything alright?" Emilie asks with certain trepidation.

I smile at her. "It is. There are a couple of things I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"I'm leaving the Louvre in a month. My meeting with Monsieur Martínez was to discuss that."

A bit of shock washes over her face but then her eyes drop to my belly and she nods. It is a puzzling decision for many, I assume. By the looks of it, I'm on my way to peaking professionally. Why would I jump ship at this crucial point? Baby or not. But I know Emilie and she won't even mention it.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I love working for you. I've learnt so much from watching you. But I understand." Emilie says kindly.

"Thank you. You've been a crucial part of my success here. Which is why I'm not comfortable leaving here knowing you'll still be an assistant to the next Antiquities Director."

Her spine straightens at that. "What do you mean?"

I rest my arms on the table and lean forward slightly. "I haven't suggested it yet because I want to know if you'd be willing. My maternity leave was going to last four months. I had planned to leave strict instructions on what I wanted done during that time."

She nods. "Yes, I imagined you would. Next dig season is going to be hectic. We should start with the paperwork as soon as possible."

I smile at that, feeling even more confident in my decision. "Exactly. You were going to be in charge of that anyway. So what I plan is to suggest to Monsieur Martínez to use those four months as a test run for you. Not for my position. Even though I think you could do that job splendidly. The Louvre is too bureaucratic for its own good. You would need more experience to get the job."

I see Emilie's eyes shine with emotion. "Of course."

"There is an opening in the Architectural department for a registrar and I know Barbara Ann could use someone like you. The responsibilities are a reduced version of what I do. You would manage the legal and logistical aspects of artifact acquisition and loans; maintain records of provenance and ownership and ensure compliance with international and national regulations and whatever else might be needed."

She's trying so hard not to smile, but she's not fully succeeding.

"You have a future here if you're willing to work for it. So? Are you interested?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes!" Emilie says excitedly, but she clears her throat and composes herself. "Yes. Merci. This is an amazing opportunity, Diana."

I reach over and take her hand. "You've earned it. I've been watching you work harder than anyone else here. You never complained. You just kept your head down and did what was required. That kind of hard work deserves to be rewarded."

"I meant it, you know? What I said months ago. You are the greatest boss I've ever had."

I laugh and squeeze her hand. "That is very kind. Keep working hard, Emilie. You'll go far."

She nods. "I will."

The elevator doors open and I pull the keys out of my purse. I open the door to find Steve in the kitchen cooking something that smells heavenly.

"That smells so good." I kick off my heels and throw my purse on the couch.

I walk over to the kitchen and look at the pot that clearly just came out of the oven.

"Boeuf bourguignon." Steve tells me as he stirs the clearly homemade mash potatoes.

"Mmmm. That takes a lot of effort. Thank you," I lean over and give Steve a soft, lingering kiss.

"You're very welcome, Angel. How did it go today? Did Martínez barricade the doors?"

I walk over to the fridge and pull out a jar of water.

I chuckle. "No, but he tried to give me whatever I wanted. But he took it well, all things considered."

"How about Emilie?" He turns off the stove and opens the cabinet, reaching for two plates.

I place the jar on the table. "I told her about the opening for registrar in the archeological department. She jumped at the opportunity."

"Say when," Steve says, serving beef bourguignon on my plate.

"When," I say, when the plate's half full.

"I don't get it. Didn't you want her as your replacement?" Steve asks as he adds mashed potatoes to my plate.

I swipe my finger on the side of my plate, tasting the gooey blob. "Mmm, that tastes so good. I do. But if I suggest that to Jean Luc, he will turn me down. Going from assistant to director is too much of a leap. She needs the experience. I'm hoping after four months of Emilie doing my job and the registrar's, that HR will see that there's no point in hiring someone else for director since Emilie's already doing the job."

We sit at the table.

"Oh, I see. You're playing games. Risky though. She might not get it." Steve tells me with a smile.

I shrug. "Innocent games. It's a win-win situation for Emilie. Even if she doesn't get it, she still gets a promotion out of it. Besides, I have a contingency plan in case HR does not go down the desired route."

"Which is?"

I stab a piece of meat. "Barbara Ann will go directly to Jean Luc and tell him that the only logical choice to replace me is Emilie since she worked with me for three years. She observed, she learnt and now she does. Bureaucracy be damned."

I chew and I can't help but close my eyes. So fragrant, so tender and so so good.

Steve huffs a laugh. "Women and their games."

"One of our many superpowers. Steve, this is delicious. But you know what would go perfectly with this?"

He gives me a deadpan look. "Please, don't say croissants."

"Croissants."

Steve puts down his knife and fork defeated and stands to open up a lower cabinet. He opens it and pulls out a paper bag from the tiny bakery we buy our bread from.

"I love you," I say as I reach for the bag.

He hands it to me. "Not more than the croissants."

Steve says it with no malice. I pull out a croissant, break a piece and swipe across the plate, saturating it with delicious beef bourguignon juices.

My eyes close as an explosion of flavours overwhelms my senses. "Not quite."

AN: Okay, so. First if all, thank you to the few people who dropped a follow. Second, in theory, the next two chapters should be about Diana and Steve going to Themyscira and Maia's birth. With those two chapters, part I of this fic would be concluded. I have already started writing these chapters and I've decided to try my very best to post both in the next 2-3 weeks. Again, there doesn't seem to be much interest in the fic so part II is still in question. I have already written part of it, but I don't know. Once again, if you're out there drop a comment. Let me know if you liked this chapter. I'm going to tease a little something for Maia's birth... I think because of Diana's demigod status, she doesn't physically go through a lot as a rule. So I thought something would happen to her while pregnant that would put Maia's life in danger. Her birth will be anything but peaceful. See you soon. Take care.