It was past midnight, when Steve's car pulled up in front of Diana's apartment house. But Diana, who had changed back into her uniform, did not immediately get out.

"Steve," she reached over and squeezed his hand, "I want you to know that this had been the happiest evening of my life."

"And mine too," he pulled her to him and they shared one last kiss, "God, how I love you."

Diana relaxed for just a minute before she reluctantly pried herself away, "Okay Colonel. We'd better not mix ranks any longer."

"And don't you forget that tomorrow," Steve grinned, "You only outrank me when you're in your Wonder Woman costume."

"Goodnight Steve," she got out and smiled, "I love you."

"Goodnight Diana," he said tenderly, "See you tomorrow."

And with that, he quietly drove off. Diana stayed on the sidewalk and kept watching until his car turned the corner and was out of sight.

She let out a contented sigh and finally went inside. Once she was in, she kicked off her shoes and dropped on to the sofa, where she just sat in deep contemplation of the things that lay ahead for her.

"Mrs. Steve Trevor," she said aloud, "Mrs. Diana Trevor. Diana Trevor."

She settled deeper into the sofa and smiled, "I like it."

Diana then noticed the photo of her mother that she'd taken on her last visit to Paradise Island, more than two years ago. Hippolyte's image stared back at her with its full regal bearing shining through.

Her smile grew coy as she looked directly at the picture, "I know what you're thinking, Mother," she said, "It's a title beneath you. Your title is Princess Diana, heiress to the Amazon throne. Future queen of the mightiest race of women the world has ever known."

Slowly, she then shook her head, "It's an honorable title, Mother." she said, "But I know it can never bring me happiness. At least, not the kind of happiness I want."

She turned away from the picture and then abruptly looked back at it.

"No I'm not ungrateful for what you've given me for all these years," her voice grew slightly cold, "No daughter could ever appreciate more the love and wisdom you've given me. But Mother, ever since I found Steve on Paradise Island and began to have feelings for him, I realized that for all the superiority of our knowledge, strength and sisterhood, our way can never provide total happiness. The kind of happiness I only know when I'm with Steve."

The coy smile returned to her face, "I know what you're thinking now. How can any man provide such happiness? I'll tell you how, Mother. Because after 2500 years, you know less about men than you really think. You've forgotten all about the ones who are noble and compassionate, and who understand what women have to offer for the world. Men who treat women as their equal, not their slave."

Her face drew within an inch of her mother's image, "Steve is such a man. Think about that before you judge me any further. The tide of history is with the men like Steve. The end of this war is just a beginning for the forces of good, and the opportunities for women. And I want to be here to see it all happen."

With that, Diana calmly placed the picture face-down.

"Goodnight Mother," she whispered, "I'm so glad we had this talk."

And then she turned off the light and went to bed.

The next morning, Diana was in the office already busily at work, when the door opened and a slightly disheveled Etta entered.

"Good morning," she smiled at her, "How was Chief Hallahan?"

Etta let out a dreamy sigh, "Perfection," she said, "Absolute perfection. I've never had a more wonderful night."

"Good for you," Diana grinned.

"How was your evening?" she went over to the file cabinet and began gathering folders.

"Uneventful," she said sweetly.

Etta dropped several folders in near exasperation, "Diana," she said, "When are you going to learn to get out of that shell of yours and live life to the fullest?"

"Oh, I think any day now," Diana folded her hands and kept smiling, "Any day now."

"I can hardly wait to see that," Etta motioned the folders toward her, "That's a sight I've always thought I'd never see."

"You'll see it," she leaned back, "Just wait."

Just then, the door opened and Steve entered, "Good morning Diana, Etta," he threw several folders on the table, "This is the latest on all Nazi spies still at large. Try to get it organized according to priority."

"Yes sir," Diana picked them up and for a brief instant their eyes made contact. Steve cracked the tiniest of smiles, and then his expression resumed its all-business demeanor.

"Steve," Diana held one folder up, "This one isn't necessary, is it? Colonel Dietrich Bolle?"

He came over and looked down at it, "I guess it isn't." he took it and handed it to Etta, "Etta take this over to the JAG's office. He'll be needing it more than we do."

"Yes sir," she took it and left.

When they were alone, Steve's expression softened and he reclined in his chair, "I had to get Etta out of the room so I could bring you up-to-date on the Manhattan Project, Diana."

She frowned slightly, "Shouldn't that wait until the test next week?"

"Officially yes. But I think I can trust you, can't I?" he grinned.

"You're forgetting something," Diana's tone was matter-of-fact, "Yeoman Prince is not to know about this. Only Wonder Woman."

He smiled sheepishly.

"Steve," her voice grew coy, but equally firm, "You're violating the guidelines we established last night."

"I can't help it," Steve shrugged, "All I can think about when I see you is my beautiful Wonder Woman. Now that we've let it out, I'll never be able to separate your personalities again."

"Just try to hold out a little longer. Until after the test of this mysterious, wonderful project that will end the war."

He absently looked down at the floor, "All right," he smiled, "Next week then. That's when we head out to New Mexico."

"Good," she came up and gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek, "Now be a good soldier and let me get back to the work you're still paying me for."

"Aye-aye sir," he gave her a smart salute and sat down.

Diana chuckled and went back to her files.

SS Colonel Dietrich Bolle sat alone in his Washington MPD cell, brooding with rage over the circumstances that had led to his capture. To have been beaten by Steve Trevor, he could have accepted with dignity. But to be beaten by this bizarre Wonder Woman was too much for his Nazi psyche to accept. It went against every precept he'd rigidly followed since becoming a Nazi in 1933, when he and his brother had taken part in the burning of the Reichstag.

If there were some way to escape this infernal prison, then he would make both of them pay. Particularly her. This Wonder Woman would learn the full meaning of where a woman's true place was.

Just then, a policeman came up and unlocked his cell. Alongside the policeman was a uniformed Army captain.

"What is going on?" he demanded.

The captain gave him a contemptuous smirk, "You're being transferred to a more isolated cell at Fort Myer."

"I protest this treatment," he said, "I am a prisoner of war who is being denied due treatment under the Geneva Convention."

"In case you've forgotten, Colonel, your war is over," the captain's voice grew taunting, "The Geneva Convention doesn't apply to you. You're going to stand trial for attempted murder."

The police guard entered and led the defiant Bolle out. The captain then pulled out a pair of handcuffs and placed them around Bolle's wrist, and then his own.

The captain then led Bolle through the station, and then outside to a waiting Army staff car. He shoved Bolle into the back, motioned to the driver, and the car pulled out.

For five minutes, as they drove through Washington, headed northwest to Fort Myer, there was nothing but cold silence in the car. Bolle kept staring straight ahead in obvious rage, while the captain kept looking at him with the same contemptuous smirk.

Finally, the captain broke it, "Some thousand year Reich, wasn't it, Colonel?"

"This is but a temporary triumph for your decadent system," Bolle refused to look at him, "You can never win in the long term."

"I'll bet," his smirk widened.

Suddenly, one mile from Fort Myer, the car began slowing down.

"What's going on?" the captain looked up at the driver.

The driver pulled the car to a stop alongside the road.

"Sergeant," the captain repeated, his voice growing testy, "What's going on?"

The driver then wheeled around and pointed a gun in the captain's face, "This, captain," he said coldly, "This."

The captain's mouth fell open in stunned shock. Before he could utter a sound, the driver fired twice, killing him instantly.

Bolle frowned in disbelief at the sudden turn of events, "What's going on?"

"Shut up and quit wasting time," the driver said as he got out of the car, "Get the key from him and free yourself."

The SS Colonel reached into the captain's jacket and pulled out the key. A moment later, he was free and had gotten out of the car.

"We have to get moving," the driver said, "Our safe house is ten miles away. Come."

Happy at his newfound freedom, but still confused by what was going on, Bolle began following him off the road and into the Virginia woods.

"What?" Steve's face was a mask of disbelief as he talked on the phone, "How could that happen?"

There was a long pause as Steve listened, with Diana watching in concern.

"I see," he sighed, "Keep me informed," he then hung up.

"What happened?" Diana asked.

"Dietrich Bolle's escaped," Steve's voice was grave, "Someone, we don't know who, took the place of the sergeant who was driving the staff car to Fort Myer. They killed the intelligence officer who was handcuffed to Bolle and abandoned the car one mile from Fort Myer."

Diana looked shocked, "How did they do that?"

"They found the original driver, tied up and gagged in a storage closet on the base," Steve said, "He doesn't know who did it. Someone just came up behind him and knocked him out with a club. He never even saw his face."

"Steve this is really serious," her voice grew concerned, "Bolle's going to make another attempt on your life. You know that."

"I guess so," he sighed, "But that's a risk I'm going to have to live with for the time being."

She then came up to him with a determined look on her face, "Steve," she said firmly, "Until he's been recaptured, I'm not going to let you out of my sight."

He started to open his mouth, as if to protest, but then he caught himself.

"Sorry," he said, "For a split second, with you looking the way you do now, I forgot."

"That's okay," she smiled thinly.

"I really appreciate the help, Diana," he said with gratitude, "You've done a lot for me, and I'm not about to start refusing you. I only hope you won't be exposing yourself to any risks."

"I won't," she removed her glasses and looked deep into his eyes, "I made a promise three years ago that I'd always be there to protect you, and I've never let anything stop me from keeping that promise."

He rose from his chair and put his arms around her, "How did I ever become so blessed," he said, "To have an angel like you?"

They shared a brief passionate kiss, and then they quietly went back to work.

"All right," Bolle said, as he sat at the kitchen table of the safe house deep in the Virginia countryside, where three men towered above him, "What's this all about?"

The phony sergeant smirked, "The three of us, Herr Oberst, represent the last surviving members of your brother's organization, the Iron Brigade. I am Oberleutnant Kurt Hauser, and these are Wachtmeister's Karl Becker and Hans Sturber. When we heard about your arrest, we felt we owed it to his memory to free you."

"I appreciate that," Bolle said, "And I know I can count on you to further honor his memory, by helping me kill Colonel Trevor."

The three men exchanged glances.

"Herr Oberst," Becker, a heavyset blonde, said, "I'm afraid that won't be possible for now. Much as we despise Colonel Trevor, he is virtually an impregnable target. And you know the reason why."

"That infernal woman?" Bolle bristled, "So I was caught off guard. That won't happen again."

"Herr Oberst," this from Sturber, "What happened to you was not an aberration. Wonder Woman cannot be stopped. To even try, would be foolish suicide. Therefore, it would be wise to turn your thoughts away from Colonel Trevor as we have done, and toward more productive endeavors."

"What do you mean?" Bolle's face contorted, "What is there left for any of us, that could be more important than revenge?"

Kurt Hauser chuckled, "Herr Oberst," he said, "You misperceive our operation. When the Iron Brigade was broken up, all of us became resigned to the fact that the Third Reich was doomed. We have since found new employment."

Bolle stared at him.

"We now work for the Russians," Hauser said, "And it's our hope that you will join us in our efforts."

The SS colonel's face contorted into revulsion, "You work for the Russians?" his body began to tremble, "Those barbaric Bolsheviks?"

"I realize how difficult that is to believe, Herr Oberst," Hauser went on, "But I think it should be obvious to you, that America and Russia now represent the only two powers that will dictate the future of the world. And while there will always be elements of Bolshevism that we will never be comfortable with, it should be obvious to you that this is the only side to cast lots with."

Grim faced, Bolle slammed his fist against the table, "You have committed treason against the Reich you swore allegiance to."

"That's all irrelevant now for all time, Herr Oberst," Becker said pointedly, "Start dealing with realities. You can either try to flee to South America and join Eichmann, Mengele, and Borrmann, and waste away for the rest of your life dreaming empty dreams of restoring the Reich. Or you can let yourself be captured by the Americans, who will try you for attempted murder and put you in jail. Or you can put your talents to work for the only remaining power that will bring order to the world."

"You should give it a try, Herr Oberst," Sturber chimed in, "You will find that national socialism and communism have much in common."

"Certainly a lot more than with democratic liberal capitalism," Hauser laced his words with sarcasm, which brought laughter from the other two.

Bolle uneasily drummed his fingers on the table.

"All right," he said finally, "What do you have in mind?"

An hour later, a subdued Bolle closed the makeshift file folder that was labeled crudely, 'Manhattan Projekt.'

"This is incredible," he said, "Are the Americans really this close to success?"

"Our man inside the project confirms that a test will take place sometime in July," Hauser said, "What we need you to do, is to meet him again and find out if it has happened. If it has, then we want his complete observations of the test. If not, then you are to stay in New Mexico until it takes place, and to wait for his report."

"Why do you need me?" Bolle frowned, "What about your normal contact with this man?"

"He's unable to travel to New Mexico at the present time," Becker said, "Someone else has to do it."

"I see," Bolle looked down at the folder, "According to this, you have two men inside the project."

"Yes," Hauser nodded, "The other is a shop machinist corporal, who helped build one of the components. But you won't need to contact him. He's already passed along everything he can possibly know."

"And besides, you wouldn't like dealing with him," Sturber said with a tinge of sarcasm, "His name is David Greenglass."

Bolle's expression darkened, "If I am to find myself working with Jews, then I doubt very much I'll be inclined to work for your cause."

Hauser laughed in a disarming manner, "The American Jews who work in our network are all fools. Idealists in search of a cause, which they have found through Comrade Stalin. Rest assured, Herr Oberst, the ultimate imposition of world socialism will bring no special favors to the Jews, or any other inferior race."

"It's really best that you discard your Nazi baggage, Herr Oberst," Becker said in that pointed tone, "The Third Reich is dead. Nazism is dead. You must learn to change with the times, if you still wish to see world order achieved."

Bolle slowly shook his head, "You're asking too much of me. I'm an SS Standartenfuhrer. I cannot simply discard everything I've been taught about Bolshevism."

"Come, come, Herr Oberst," there was less warmth in Hauser's voice, "You forget your recent history. Germany and Russia were once allies. And had we stayed allies, then the Third Reich would have survived. Instead, Herr Hitler forgot who the real enemy was when he decided to break the Pact with Stalin and invade Russia before he'd conquered the British and the Americans."

Bolle slouched slightly in his chair, "I won't argue that point."

"And you shouldn't be arguing with us," Hauser looked him in the eye, "The Soviet Union is the only power left that can one day destroy this infernal menace of democracy and liberal capitalism. The menace that allows every form of decadence to run rampant. If we are to give her a head start in this battle, we must not allow the Americans to develop an advantage in this new weaponry."

"Already, the battle lines are being drawn up for World War III, Herr Oberst," Sturber's tone was more quiet, but equally blunt, "There will one day be conflict between East and West for ultimate control of the world. Perhaps not in this generation, but most certainly in the next. It is inevitable. Even if you choose not to help us, someone else will. It is in your best interest, that you become part of the forward tide of History."

"And if I refuse?"

Hauser smiled thinly and pulled out the pistol he'd used to kill the Army captain.

"I wouldn't recommend that, Herr Oberst. As much as we'd prefer not to dishonor your brother's memory, you will have left us with no choice."

"And don't think you can double-cross us, Herr Oberst," Becker jumped in, "The NKVD is even more ruthless than the SS when it comes to that."

For a moment, there was only silence from Bolle.

Finally, the SS colonel sagged in his chair and threw up his hands in resignation.

"Very well," he said, "I'll do it."