The Meanings of Lost

Chapter 12

Diana:

The phone rings even though it's the middle of the night. As I crawl out of bed, my thoughts go to my Justice League contacts. Who else would call me at such an hour?

"Hello?" I say.

"Diana, did I wake you?"

"No, I had to get the phone anyways," I mumble, a line I used often when I worked as a government operative in the States.

"It's Edison, from the museum. An artifact of yours is, well um, I think you have to see it for yourself," he says. Oh no. All that stuff misinterpreted, if something's going off, it could be another apocalyptic event. Wonder Woman has been taking a sideline these past few months, but I can never truly leave her behind. What excuse would I give Ambrosine?

"I'll be right over," I sigh. 

I hang up then walk downstairs. What will I tell Ambrosine? I stop at her room and peer inside. It's one of the smaller rooms in the house. She said she didn't need the space and empty rooms made her feel small. I open the door and it squeaks slightly, the bits of lights from the moon shining through the window illuminating the dark room as she always closes the blinds. 

"Diana?" she asks quietly. "Who called?"

"The museum. Apparently, something's happening with the artifacts."

"May I come?" she asks, sitting up. "The chemicals have awoken me and I doubt I'll fall back asleep again."

I ponder for a moment, dragging my response out just for her. "Alright, fine," I say, "get dressed and be ready at the door in ten minutes. Bring something to keep yourself entertained."

"A book?" she asks, knowing that I sometimes disapprove of her excuse to ignore everyone.

"I'd say two, just in case," I tell her. Ambrosine squeals with delight.

"You have to leave now so I can change," she declares.

"Seriously?" I ask. "The first day we meet you change in front of me in daylight. Now, in the middle of the night, I have to leave the room?"

"Yes," she says, getting out of bed and pushing me out the door. 

I roll my eyes and close it behind me, but wait until I see the light coming from beneath the door before going back to my own room. I shake my head I walk down the hallway. Silly girl. I shrug my shoulders. What can I do? She's just herself.

Ten minutes later I find her dressed and waiting by the door. She's wearing her proper long coat with buttons from her knees to her neck and a beret. Over her shoulder she has her book bag, a leather pouch she got in Germany that a large hardback can fit into (though it has to be less than 700 pages). It's stretched enough that it's hard to find a book she can't fit in there if one doesn't count the ability to zip up the pouch. Today, her book fits inside nicely, creating a book-sized dent. Another lays under her right arm, her left hand holding it in place.

"I'm ready to go," she announces and we file outside and into the car. 

We get there quickly, for there is little tourist traffic.  Edison quickly leads us through the museum and down into my office. When we get to the door, I pull up a chair and ask Ambrosine to wait outside in case anything bad happens. That way, she's not in the direct line of fire but is close enough that I, or rather Wonder Woman, can get her out safely. 

Inside, an idol with carvings worshipping Hades is glowing with an ominous yellow light.

"It's been doing that for about an hour," Edison says.