The Meanings of Lost

Chapter 2

Diana:

It's been three days and Bruce still will not let this go. As we stand in the airport, awaiting his airplane, he's still mumbling about the encounter. We sit on the blue benches outside processing and customs because I do not want him on his own until it was absolutely necessary. Which will be in five minutes. Four and fifty-nine seconds.

I've already called Alfred, told him about Mr. Wayne's condition. He promises to do the best he can, but I have some doubts. I would see him safely to America, but I know I can't leave. London needs a superhero. America has Superman and Batman (whenever he recovers), Supergirl, The Flash, and so many scientific anomalies and space folk. It doesn't need a former Amazon to protect it. Even if I am a god.

I chuckle. A god. I work at a museum, my friends get attacked by prepubescent girls. There is no way in Tartarus that the Olympians live even a remotely similar life to the one I do. If authors like Rick Riordan are to be believed, Zeus or any of the gods would have struck the girl dead for assaulting one of their friends. I just cannot seem to get her off my mind. Bruce might be delusional,  but he has spared my curiosity. I feel like a need a face.

My watch beeps. "Time to go," I whisper to Bruce. I carry his bags for him as we walk to the long line to get his bag searched and luggage checked.

"Come see me in America," he says. "Preferably when Lex Luthor hasn't stolen something you love." He smirks at me.

"Bye Bruce Wayne," I say as he walks down the isles. I turn on my heel. I've never liked crowded places, especially indoors. They have this off-putting, suffocating feeling I never felt on Themyscira.

The air in London isn't fresh. It's covered in a haze that makes the air damp and heavy with dirt. I had thought it horrible when I first arrived in these grimy, war-torn streets. It hasn't changed much.

I walk outside and step into my silver car and drive away. A half-hour later, I park a few blocks away from my house, craving a walk. I step out and move down the familiar streets, marvelling at how much everything has changed in a hundred years. London has been reborn, and, I note, my face has not changed a day. Perhaps I look wiser, more at ease with this life than I had the first year after the war. My lips curl into a smile, something that took me many years to find again.

"Sorry Miss," a girl says to me as we collide. I look down at her and suddenly lose my breath. I'm staring into the eyes of Steve Trevor. My legs feel weak and my heart glitters and my head seems to swirl around the block. A girl with raven black hair, with skin slightly lighter than mine, stares up at me with the deep blue eyes of my dead love.

This is the girl Bruce saw? I can hear my heart in my ears and can feel the sweat on my clammy palms. In an instant, the strands of hair scattered on my face felt like long sharp needles.

The girl clutches a purple book to her chest. I can make out the word Shadow, but the rest of the title is hidden by her protective grasp.

"Are you alright ma'am?" she asks. I try to say yes, but my vocal cords are not responding. Her acne wrinkles with her face in concern at my form.

"I... you just startled me, that's all," I say when my voice comes back.

"Are you sure, you don't look very well?" she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I could stay with you or walk with you to a clinic if you want. I'm not sure you should be alone."

"I'm fine. I will be fine. Please," I cannot look into those eyes any longer, "you may go."

The defiant girl is not convinced by my pitiful statement. "Can you tell me your name?"

"How about question per question?" I suggest. If she is going to keep me here I'll get something out of it. She nods. "I'm Diana Prince," I say.

"Ambrosine." She says, her voice shaking with a sudden fear. She extends a shaking hand. I take it, my hand equally as shaky. This is the same girl I cased a few days ago. The same Bruce claims to be my daughter. To be Steve's daughter. It's too much. I can feel my head spinning even more.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask, trying to keep myself alert. Come on, Diana you can do it. She's just a little girl.

"Walking and reading. You?"

"I was on my way home. What's the book?"

"Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo. I love all her works." Her voice changes, she is no longer afraid, now wrapped in her passion for the story and author. She speaks with wild, excited eyes. "I've read everything to do with her world, the Grishaverse. But I've never read her superhero book. Frankly, I've never been a fan of them." I try to stifle my laughter and I think I manage to as she does not react. I'm about to ask her why she doesn't approve of superheroes when she excuses herself and leaves. I watch her walk away, swimming in a sea of questions that will never be answered.