The Meanings of Lost

Epilogue

Steve:

She smells like disinfectant. A little infant, wailing in my arms, seems to have no care in the world for the ears she is assaulting. I sit on a hospital bed, next to Diana, wearing a smile of fools, my lips stretched ear to ear. Diana leans on me, her eyes half closed as she hold's our little girl's hand.

"What about Andromeda?" I ask, "or Cassiopeia?"

Diana shakes her tired head. "No, it doesn't sound right."

We've been going through everything our brains can produce. We'd agreed, long before, that we weren't giving the world another Dolly or Daisy or Jane. 

"Temperance," I say. As soon as it leaves my lip I know it's not going to be the one. The girl just wailed louder. "I can't believe the police haven't come," I mutter. I think we should go with something Greek, give her heritage, though Diana isn't keen on alienating her too much.

"Annora? or Marcellina?" I ask again, maybe Latin might yield better results.

She shakes her head. "I don't like how Annora sounds. It sounds half. And nothing meaning 'warlike'." 

"Amity for peace?"

"Too much pressure."

"Or we could go Welsh." My mother was Welsh. "Morwenna, Rhonwen, Ceridwen ."

"Those are nice." She sighs. They're nice, but they don't fit. We can both see it. Well, Ceridwen might, but it wasn't the nicest to roll of the tongue. 

I list off quite a few more names, like Morrighan, Alice, Isadora, and Lavander. None of them are adequate.

"Thalassa," I mutter under my breath, trying Greek again. Angering the gods is something I don't feel like doing.

"I like it," an alien voice said. We both looked up. A woman, bearing a striking resemblance to Diana, dressed in white robes, was sitting near the window. "Some say that's my mother's name."

"Aphrodite!" Diana exclaims. I assume it's the woman and not something she wants to call the child. 

"'Tis I!" She says melodramatically. Diana pulls the girl from my arms, keeping her close to her breast.

"I'm not here to meddle." The Goddess says. "Least, not anymore." She walks over o the bed. "You know you have me to thank for all this lovely stuff. Let's see." She says, taking a look at our child. Diana relaxes the slightest bit, but I know she's ready to strike. "Don't call the kid Thalassa though, I fear that would be cruel in a modern world, and the future modern world."

I glare at her. "How did you get in here?"

"Steve, don't," Diana says. I promptly shut my mouth. 

"I'm a Goddess, I can do whatever I want unless Zeus declares otherwise. And even then he doesn't always have complete control." She pauses. "I'm biased towards Persephone but I'm also overly protective of it. To bad Tolkien hasn't written his fantasy yet. Then you'd have a slew of names she's thank you for."

"You're here to give us name advice?" Diana asks. 

"Not really. Just wanted to bless her. You're currently my favourite immortal couple. Olympus is so boring these days. All the old, over and over again. But I've decided to stay and see what you name her in person." She lays her hands on the baby's head and it glowed slightly, making the wails stop. Aphrodite slips back into the shadows, giving us a semblance of privacy.

"What do you think Diana?" I ask, as my suggestions have proven inadequate.

After a moment's thought, she comes up with three names: Phaedra, Cosima, and Corisande.