The Franklin Arms was one of the better hotels in the area. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings painted with murals from history and mythology, casting a warm glow over the lobby. The floor was covered with thick red and gold carpets, and lustrous and glossy-leafed potted plants dotted the aisles. General Blankenship, Etta Candy, and Charlie Niles were waiting for them in the hotel bar when they arrived.

"Steve, my boy!" The general smiled broadly as they approached. "Thanks for inviting me along."

"It wouldn't be a celebration without you, General," Steve assured him, although so far, the evening's mood had been anything but celebratory.

Diana had been unusually quiet in the car ride over from her apartment to the hotel. She had sat in the front passenger seat, while her mother and sister sat in the rear, Dru pointing out the monuments and government buildings to her mother. He'd like to believe he and Diana had grown quite close over the last three years, and the silence between them was strained. Somehow, he had the feeling that things were worse off than they had been this morning, but he certainly couldn't talk with Diana in front of her family.

"Etta, you look beautiful." Diana gave her best friend's hand a squeeze, her good humor apparently restored. And she was right—Private Candy was quite the dish, in her red dress and heels, her blonde hair freshly coifed.

"Well, I'm no Bess Meyerson, but thanks, Diana."

"Hey, you'll always be my Miss America," Charlie gave her a peck on the cheek, and the WAC blushed.

"Better keep a close eye on your date, Charlie," Steve cautioned the young clerk. "Every guy in the room is going to want to steal her away."

"You too, sir," Charlie agreed as Etta's blush deepened. "Yeoman Prince, you look just pretty as a picture."

"Why, thank you, Charlie." Diana's smile was warmly genuine, and Steve gave her the subtle once-over and realized that Charlie was right. Diana did indeed look quite lovely in her modest dark blue dress, her dark hair held away from her face by a snood. He couldn't remember ever seeing her wearing any other style than the sensible bun she employed every day at work, and he certainly could admire the graceful curve of her ankle, accentuated by the pair of heels she'd chosen.

"Etta, General, you know my sister, Dru."

"It's always a pleasure to see you, young lady," General Blankenship said with a smile. "And this lovely lady must be Mrs. Prince."

"You may call me Lyta," Diana's mother said as she extended her hand.

"General Phillip Blankenship, United States Army," he introduced himself as he took her hand and shook it like a gentleman. "Mrs. Prince, it's a sincere pleasure."

"My daughter's told me so much about you and the important work you and Major Trevor do."

"Spilling state secrets, are you Diana?" Steve raised a brow.

"Oh, no sir!" Diana assured him quickly, and he chuckled.

"Only teasing, Yeoman. Shall we head into the dining room?" Steve asked, offering her his arm. General Blankenship followed suit, and the three couples and Drusilla filed into the lavish dining room.

Diana smiled, as the waiter popped the cork and the champagne bubbled over into the silver ice bucket. She smiled as Steve held out her glass to be filled, even though he knew she normally never drank. She smiled as the General raised his glass in a toast to peace, and they all drank deeply, even Dru who giggled at the way the bubbles tickled her nose.

She had to smile, so her sister and mother wouldn't think something was wrong. She had to smile so that her best friend wouldn't guess how she was feeling. She had to smile so that Steve wouldn't realize that what she wanted to do—instead of sitting next to him, sipping champagne and listening to the band play Glenn Miller tunes—was sit at home in the dark and cry like one of those silly jilted girls in the radio serials Etta listened to.

She had spent the entire drive to the hotel furious with herself. "We all get carried away,'" she'd told him, and he'd been so relieved. Of course he hadn't meant to kiss his dowdy, plain-jane secretary. Never mind that she'd been walking on a cloud all day, looking forward to tonight with a sense of anticipation she hadn't felt since that very first day Steve had walked into the office and General Blankenship had introduced her as his new secretary.

She was a fool. A stupid naïve fool. She was an Amazon Princess, able to hold back speeding trucks, bend steel with her bare hands, and deflect bullets faster than the eye could see with her Feminum bracelets, and she was no better off than the average American teenager when it came to love. Perhaps worse off, since according to Etta, most girls had their first kiss before they reached the 12th grade. Here she was, over 2000 years old and acting like some love-sick 15 year old after one completely unintentional brush of her boss's lips.

As first kisses had gone, it had been nice, she mused absently. Brief, but nice. She remembered the roughness of his five-o'clock shadow against her cheek, and the warmth of his arms around her. It had all happened so quickly—she'd been completely unprepared. She had always assumed that Steve never saw her unless she was Wonder Woman. He looked, but he never really saw. After all, wasn't that the crux of her disguise? When people looked at Yeoman First Class Diana Prince, they saw the uniform first, perhaps the glasses second, and as an after-thought, they might pity her, thinking she'd look so nice if only she'd let her hair down and maybe put on some make-up.

That was the point. That was the role she'd chosen to play, and it had been a part of her own devising, and suddenly she was despising the mask she wore. Hating the fact that the mask was closer to her real face than the girl in the star-spangled bathing costume that Steve Trevor called his angel.

Still, Diana smiled.

"Is this your first time in Washington, Mrs. Prince?" General Blankenship asked her mother, as the waiter brought out their steak dinners.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Hippolyte said as she prodded the medium-well done slab of meat with her fork suspiciously. "Drusilla has been talking about Washington quite non-stop since she first visited Diana here, so I decided to take some time and see this brave new world for myself."

"And how are you finding it?"

"Quite different from what I expected, actually. But with all the marble columns, I feel quite at home," she said cryptically.

"What my mother means," Diana tried to explain, "is that our home is pretty far from modern civilization."

"I'm a farm boy myself, Mrs. Prince," the General informed her. "Where are you staying while you're here?"

"We only just arrived this afternoon," Hippolyte began, "I had assumed we'd be staying with my daughter. But that was before I visited her accommodations and realized how small they truly were—"

"Mother!" Diana was mortified.

"It just so happens that I know the manager of this hotel quite well. I'm sure he'd be willing to offer you and your daughter a room."

"That's most generous of you, General."

"Nonsense. Why, your Diana is such an asset to my office, it's the very least I can do. I can't imagine how we'd manage without her."

"Thank you, sir," Diana said, a flush creeping up her neck. "But I'm just doing my part for the War Effort."

"But now the War's over," Dru said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, puzzled. "Isn't it?"

"The war in Europe may be coming to a close, young lady, but war still rages in the Pacific."

"But the Nazis have been defeated," Hippolyte pointed out.

"At the cost of far too many good men. President Truman is confident that Germany and Italy will surrender within the week, yes. Our country's morale has never been higher. I can only imagine what tomorrow will be like, after the ceremony."

"Ceremony?" Diana asked.

"President Truman is giving Wonder Woman a special citation," Steve explained. "They're having a ceremony on the White House lawn at 1400 hours tomorrow afternoon."

"The ceremony! I completely forgot," Diana was distressed. "Oh Steve, I'm going to have to miss it. I have an appointment that I can't reschedule. But you'll go and tell me all about it, won't you?"

"Of course, Diana."

"Well, I want to go." Dru's dark eyes sparkled. "Can I, Major Trevor?"

"I don't see why not," General Blankenship smiled warmly at her. "I'll arrange for special security passes for you both, first thing tomorrow morning. Right, Etta?"

"Yes, sir. First thing!"

"I'm quite looking forward to it." Hippolyte smiled at her daughter. "I've heard so much about this 'Wonder Woman.'"

"Mrs. Prince, you are in for a treat," the General said as he poured her a second glass of champagne. "I can't imagine how we'd have made it through this war without that very special young lady fighting on our side. Why, I know for sure we wouldn't be sitting here today! She's saved our lives many times over."

"She's our very own star-spangled war hero," Steve agreed.

"You ever wonder where she comes from, Major?" Charlie asked.

"She's an angel sent down from heaven, as far as I'm concerned, Charlie."

"Yeah, but aren't you even curious?"

"What healthy, red-blooded American wouldn't be? But Wonder Woman's secrets are her own. I wouldn't dream of prying."

"I bet she'd tell you in a minute, Steve," Etta laughed. "She's awfully sweet on you."

"Etta!" Steve colored. "Wonder Woman and I are just... friends."

"Well I think it's terribly romantic, her saving you all the time, sir. Don't you, Diana?"

"I think Wonder Woman holds you in the highest regard, Steve," Diana assured him

"As I do her," Steve said with dignity. "Now then, who's up for dessert?"

"Yes, Dru," Diana said before her sister could even open her mouth, "you can have ice cream."

Author's Note: Please, if there's anything that doesn't work for you, or is factually or grammatically incorrect, don't hesitate to tell me! Constructive criticism is the greatest gift you can give an author. I'm not a delicate flower who will curl up and die at the first sign of criticism. I want to make this story the very best I can, so please let me know what works for you, and more importantly, what doesn't.