Title: Pro patria occumbere parvus mori (To die a little death for one's country) Fandom: DCU (Silver Age AU) Summary: The government boys tell her to pack light, but she's not leaving the country without half of Raymond Chandler, enough notebooks to last a year, and two pair of Charles Jourdan pumps. Pairing: Diana/Lois Rating: All ages For: Betty, who audienced it as well. Notes: Whomever Donna Troy is, she is not appearing in this story. Title translated by Katarik. Todd beta read. "Just because I'm familiar with Superman," Lois says to the nondescript man in his nondescript suit, "doesn't mean I know how to deal with all sorts of people from nonhuman cultures." The man's badge has some collection of letters from a branch of the government even the government doesn't want to believe it has, much less needs. "I'm aware of that, Miss Lane --" "-- Ms.," she interrupts him. "-- Ms. Lane," he continues, "but you are one of the most highly qualified Americans. Members of any Western society, truthfully, which is why we're asking you to do your patriotic duty in this case." She shakes her head. "My patriotic duty is to consort with this -- woman. She is a woman?" "According to our best intelligence," says Mr. You-Don't-Know-Me. "Yeah," Lois says. "I've heard about 'military intelligence.'" She knows the quotes come across in her voice without the finger gesturing. His lips press together. "Ms. Lane," and that's right, this time, at least. "Our country needs your expertise." She rolls her eyes. "What's in it for me?" "The gratitude of the nation. Of the world, if the entity in question is consistently helpful." She looks at him again -- he can't be more than thirty, maybe mid-twenties. A kid, a really earnest kid, leaning toward her like Americanism is contagious. "She has categorically stated that she will not accept a male liaison." "Oh, now he tells me." Lois leans back, away from the patriot germs that definitely don't exist, even considering the recent administration's foibles, and crosses her legs. "I'm not your first pick after all." The man just manages to look even more earnest. Trouble for him is, she gets that kind of look from Kent all the time. "This mission may be essential to national security." "And you can't do it yourself." He goes pale. Reasonable; she's seen the footage of the entity they want her to chat with, throwing rocks the size of a house around like pebbles. Plus her thighs could crush granite. "I'm not a field operative, Ms. Lane." She restrains herself from patting his hand. "Of course you're not." She uncrosses her legs. "Do I get an Aston Martin?" His nondescript little eyebrows bunch together in confusion. She rolls her eyes and asks, "A shoe phone? A communicator watch? Throw me a bone here." On 'shoe phone,' light dawns over Marblehead and he smiles a tiny, tight smile. "Shoe phones are, shall we say, passé." "I'd settle for the car," Lois says. "But only if it's a '64, and you guys have to spring for the insurance." He says, "Heh." He doesn't laugh. Maybe the government beats that kind of thing out of you. "I'll see what can be arranged." "Hmph." Lois lifts her chin. "That's not a yes." He frowns for a split second when he realizes she's not -- just -- jerking his chain. "I'll add it as a part of the contract, along with the normal remuneration for an operative. And the danger pay." She's been in much scarier situations than talking to Mr. Forgettable, but she's got to swallow before she can answer this because her throat goes dry. "Danger pay?" "The -- entity -- has unknown capabilities and motivations," he says. "We take our responsibilities to our operatives seriously." Lois sniffs. Superman still hasn't quite forgiven her for the time she threw herself off a building to get his attention, but he hasn't dropped her yet. "You'd better make sure I'll still have my job when I get back. And exclusive first publishing rights on everything." "On everything that can be declassified, of course." Forget-Me-Boy nods and extends his hand. "You have my word." Lois rolls her eyes and takes it. "Yeah, and you're here to help me, aren't you." "Of course, Ms. Lane. Welcome aboard." * "You're -- Lois --" Superman says. His perfect brow creases and he looks away, out over the roofs of Metropolis. "I don't know how safe you will be with Princess Diana." Lois folds her arms. "If anything goes really wrong, I'll let you know." "I would know." He embraces her and she gets a little thrill, adrenaline and something lower down. Like falling off of something and into something. "Of course I'd know -- Lois, I'm worried about you." She pats his superhumanly solid arm. "She wants a liaison. I'll liaise. If she wants to perform ritual sacrifice, you'll be the second to know, and the whole American army will be there to back you up." He's still frowning. "That may not be enough." Lois puts her arm around his neck and kisses him. "It's going to have to be, because I'm going." Superman tenses for just a second, enough that she knows he's not going to say, "I could stop you." He's not going to say it because he doesn't have to say it. It's not true, anyway. "I'll be listening," Superman says, and he lets her go. She wants to think he's reluctant about it, but her inner editor is meaner than that. "I know," she says. He gives her another long look, and then he's gone, off to save somebody somewhere who needs him more than she does. * "A leave of absence?" Kent says, staring at the box she's holding. It's all of the things from her desk she doesn't want to go missing while she's not there. "We're gonna miss you!" Jimmy says, turning pink as today's bowtie. "But you can't --" Kent says, and he stops himself too late, as usual. Apparently they don't have tact in Smallville. "I can," Lois says, and she still sometimes doesn't want to, but she's not going to let on about that to the clingy cub reporter. Whether or not he still is a cub reporter, Kent acts it sometimes, which means she's only justified in treating him like one. Besides, if he tries a goodbye hug or something, he'll spill her stuff all over the place and she won't get out the door for another half hour. Kent looks pouty. "What are you doing that's more important than this?" She's never, ever going to admit that she's been wondering that herself. "I'll tell you when I get back." Kent hesitates for a second and she makes a break for the elevator. "Bye, Ms. Lane!" Jimmy says. Kent just says, "Gosh darn it, Lois," and then she reaches the relative peace of the Muzak version of "Help!" * The government boys tell her to pack light, but she's not leaving the country without half of Raymond Chandler, enough notebooks to last a year, and two pair of Charles Jourdan pumps. The shoes make the spooks who check her luggage give her the fish-eye, but she's not going anywhere without things that make her feel like her. The last thing she wants to be -- the penultimate thing she wants to be, after splattered across the landscape by the Princess -- is nameless and faceless like these guys. Eventually they get her blouses all folded back into place and hand her the suitcase. "All right, Ms. Lane." She raises an eyebrow at them. "Where are we going to meet the flight?" She's used to the swish-crack of Superman making an entrance, even though he doesn't do it very often around her. The Princess shows up with more of a woosh and a silent landing. Whoever told her that red, white, and blue was a good fashion statement ought to be shot. Lois looks up -- and a little more up, pumps or no pumps -- at her. But she is the foremost expert on intercultural relations with people who can punch you into the ground without batting an eye, and Superman's taller than her, too, so she just extends her hand. "Lois Lane," Daily Planet, she just barely doesn't say. The Princess takes her hand. "Diana of Themyscira," she says. Lois has interviewed her share of politicians, but the lady's got some grip there. "The pleasure's all mine," Lois says drily. She gets a better grip on her bag. "So -- we're flying." "It's the only way to reach Paradise Island," the Princess says. "Your boats do not find it." Lois has heard the name before, and it never fails to give her the creeping heebie jeebies. There's something about anywhere that thinks it's a Utopia that makes her want to hide under her bed. "Makes sense to me," she says, and spreads her hands. "How do we do this?" The Princess puts an arm around her waist and lifts her as if she weighs nothing. "Let me take your bag," she says, and Lois doesn't fancy carrying it across the Atlantic, so she lets the Princess have it. "Are you comfortable?" She's been clasped to firmer bosoms. A firmer bosom, anyway, and that one was covered with a big S. "Sure," she says, and puts her arm around the Princess's neck. "Excellent." They're off the ground now, then over the water. Lois closes her eyes against the wind. She doesn't see the country she's supposedly defending slip away behind them. The Princess slows down when they get closer to Paradise-yeah-right Island. There are mists and it's really bizarre, but pretty in that Grecian isle way that Lois heard people back in college talk about. She could never afford that kind of vacation, and now she's going on the government dime and getting paid. The only drawback so far is the lack of inflight movie. Lots of guys would pay good cash for a ride with her flight attendant, too. "Themyscira," the Princess says, when the island is big enough and close enough to see. All of its colors look a little too saturated, but maybe that's just the Mediterranean air. "Not too shabby," Lois says. The Princess says, "It is not at all shabby." "Right -- right, that's what I meant." Lois rolls her eyes. She should've taken a decent job with the government spying on somebody who understood sarcasm. She has enough to deal with in her daily life with Kent the literal-minded. "It's beautiful," she says honestly, and stops there. Words like "verdant" and "pristine" are for travel columns, not for real places. The Princess sets her gently on a white sand beach, then looks at her again. "I'm afraid your footwear is ill-suited for this place," she says. "It's okay," Lois says, but before she gets to, "I'll take it off," the Princess picks her up again like a slightly tousled Barbie and they go swoosh up and swoosh down into some kind of town square. Plaza, that's the word. All the women there except the Princess and Lois look like they're out of a revival of 'Lysistrata.' Right. They also look like Olympic bodybuilders. "So," Lois says, standing up as straight and strong as she can in her out-of-place clothes. "Is this where I say, 'Take me to your leader'?" The Princess laughs and squeezes her shoulder. "Ms. Lane, my mother would be pleased to meet you." Mother, right. "Okay." Lois tugs on her blazer a little. She's not dressed to meet royalty, but none of her clothes are appropriate for this royalty, anyway. "I'm starting to think I should have packed my bedsheets." The Princess's smile is as blazingly friendly and strangely off as Superman's. "We have linens for you. You won't want for anything here." "Hm," is all Lois says to that. "Please, the Queen is this way," the Princess says, and she puts her arm around Lois's shoulders. The only way to walk comfortably next to her is to put an arm around her waist in return. It feels oddly intimate, but Lois is there to do a job, not to keep to herself. She goes with it. The toga-clad citizens all keep out of the way. It gets increasingly weird as they walk across the plaza, and it takes Lois a few minutes to realize that's because she hasn't seen any men yet. Of course the government boys told her, but it's different to see it, to really feel how there are no guys anywhere. Lois doesn't miss them. Yet. The ladies who live here are all staying out of the Princess's way and speaking -- Greek. This is going to be a long trip if the Princess gets tired of talking to Lois. "Nice place you've got here," Lois says. "The weather -- the architecture. Classic." The Princess squeezes her shoulder. "Thank you. Your own city is quite impressive." "Metropolis? Yeah, it's something. Have you traveled much?" "I have flown over much of Man's World." Lois can hear those capitals. "There are women there, you know." "Yes," the Princess says. "Women like you." "Exactly. So it's not fair to just call it -- 'Man's World.'" She can do the capital letters, too, with enough of a pause. "Half the population is female." "But the men rule, yes?" The Princess pats her affectionately. "You can explain it more, later; we are almost there." The palace, if it's a palace, looks just as stately and tall as anything else around the place, all some kind of columns -- Lois knows there's some sort of difference, but exactly what it is is lost on her. "Great." Queen Hippolyta, like the stories of Amazons -- or maybe not 'like' the stories of Amazons so much as the actual article -- smiles at the Princess and Lois when they come in. "Ah, Diana, you have brought our liaison from Man's World." The Princess lets Lois go and embraces her mother, kissing her on both cheeks. "It is good to be home." "And what is the name of this woman from Man's World?" the Queen asks. Lois tries to figure out what to do. She can't curtsey in this skirt without looking like a fool, bowing is weird, and there are a whole bunch of kinds of salutes. She sticks with a tight smile. "Lois Lane, your majesty." The Queen smiles back. "Welcome, Lois Lane. Please, enjoy your stay here." "Your daughter has been very kind so far," Lois says, figuring that the way to a mom's heart is always through her kid, especially when the kid gets a hug like that. "I'm certain she has." Was that a Queenly wink? Lois regrets that she hasn't done much of the royal society beat, but not really. This will be a long enough run for anyone. "Has she shown you your quarters yet?" Lois feels her own smile freeze. She could use a nap, but she's not sure she's up for a long flight again. "No -- your majesty. We just got here." "I was going to escort her there next, mother," the Princess says. "Good," the Queen says. "Take care of our liaison." They embrace again. "Go with Hera's blessing, Lois Lane." "Thanks," Lois says, and grabs her luggage. She's probably not supposed to expect royalty to lug her baggage in the actual palace, and there don't seem to be a lot of ladies in waiting or whatever around the place. She gives the Princess a smile that probably looks better than it feels. "Which way?" The Princess gestures toward one of the incredibly stately passageways and says, "I will show you." "Great." Lois regrets the weight of her luggage, but if she doesn't have to lug it much further, she'll be okay. "Do you have any servants on Paradise Island?" "We all serve in our way, but no one is dedicated to menial tasks in the manner of Man's World slaves," the Princess says. She opens a door with incredibly elaborate carvings on it. "Here, these will be your chambers." The painfully clear Mediterranean light shines in through the window, golden with approaching sunset. There are vases that would cost a fortune and a half and what looks impressively like a featherbed. The ceilings, like the ceilings everywhere else, are vaulted. Lois regrets sleeping through and skipping the Art History course she took as an elective for the first time since she managed a B- in it and promptly forgot it all.   "This is beautiful," she says, and sets her luggage at the end of the bed. It looks bizarrely modern and out of place. "Thank you." The Princess smiles, not a vacuous smile of royalty, but one that makes her look friendly -- and, still, not human. It's only fair that somebody who can fly you across the Atlantic without breaking a sweat has some kind of not-from-around-here marker, even when she's at home. "You are welcome here, Ms. Lane." "Right." Lois takes out one of her smaller notepads. "So, I'm here to be the liaison. What do you expect me to do?" "You are our guest. For now, you need do nothing more than observe our ways and the beauty of our home." The Princess goes to the window. It has a gorgeous view of what Lois is tempted to call the Acropolis. It's probably got a paradise sort of name in Greek. "We asked Man's World for a liaison so that she might explain some of our ways to her people. To do that, you need do nothing more than watch us." "Watch and learn, grasshopper," Lois says, frowning at the view. "Grasshopper?" the Princess asks. "Just a saying," Lois says, but she shivers in the breeze from the window. Metropolis seems farther away, in the face of that question, than it has yet. The Princess puts a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like some time to recover from your journey?" It was an extremely fast flight, but she was up late packing. The bed looks soft. "That would be fine, yes. Thanks." The Princess pats her gently and says, "When you wake, come and find me. My chambers are the next door on the left." Lois reevaluates her status as liaison. If she's next to the royal bedchambers, she's certainly not some Man's World peon around here. "I will." The Princess nods with another inhuman smile and leaves. Lois kicks off her shoes, peels off her hose, and tries the bed. It's even softer than it looks. She doesn't mean to fall asleep -- it's only late afternoon, and she has a lot of liaising to do -- but she doesn't manage to get up before she sinks into a dream. * In the morning -- and how long has it been since she got eight hours' sleep, let alone however many that was? -- the sunlight wakes Lois up. She's curled up in blankets and rumpled beyond belief, but a quick stab or two with a hairbrush and a fresh outfit make her feel like she can deal with the Princess. When she leaves the bedroom they put her in, her heels echoing loudly on the stone flooring, she heads for the next door down, as advised. She's not expecting a little pink sign that says "Diana's Room," or anything, but the carvings on the door are a lot like a very naked, all-female nativity scene. "Where do Amazons get new Amazons?" she asks under her breath, and knocks. The Princess comes to the door. Her hair is up in some kind of a clip -- a fillet, maybe that's the word -- and is all ringlets. For a woman who can take a chunk out of a building without breaking a nail, she's damn pretty. She's also wearing the native garb, bedsheets and all. "Good morning, Ms. Lane," she says, and then she gives Lois an unsubtle once-over. "Would you like me to show you how one wears a chiton?" Lois smiles automatically. So they're not bedsheets, or togas. Chitons. She can handle that. "I think it's a little early to do as the Romans do, thanks." "Sandals would be more convenient today than your present footwear," the Princess says, frowning at the Jourdan pumps. "We may need to do quite a bit of walking." "I can go anywhere in these, your Highness. They've seen their share of battlefields." The Princess's smile is back. "You may call me Diana, Ms. Lane." Lois isn't one for presuming that kind of thing; she hasn't called Perry 'Perry' in the years she's known him. But -- if the Princess wants it -- "All right. Then it's Lois. Please." For a moment, the P -- Diana's smile looks real. "Thank you, Lois. I am honored. If you would like to keep your footwear, then you may most certainly do so." "Thanks. What do people eat for breakfast around here?" Lois rubs her eyes. "I could really use some coffee." "Coffee?" Diana asks, looking blank, and then she proves it really is Paradise Island, because she comes up with the answer. "Ah, the Man's World beverage with the boiled beans, yes. Your government advised me to lay in a certain amount of supplies." "Thank god," Lois says. "Whom do you worship?" Diana asks, and Lois gets conversational whiplash. She's usually better than this, but not before coffee. She shakes her head. "I don't. I don't worship -- anyone. Anything." "Truly?" Diana's smile is condescending now. "That seems foolish." Lois narrows her eyes, then closes them and gives up. "I'm not good at this kind of discussion on the best day, but this -- before coffee, especially -- is not even close to my best day. Please. Not now." She winces at her own complete lack of diplomacy, but one of the reasons she's a reporter and not a schoolteacher or something is because the crack of dawn is not her favorite time of day. "Ah, I am not fulfilling my duties as a host." Diana's smile turns wry. "Come, let us break our fast together." Somewhere, there must be a kitchen and at least a part-time cook, because when they reach the extremely regal dining hall, there is bread and some kind of gruel, along with, thank whatever god is applicable, coffee. It looks almost strong enough to suit Lois's taste -- it's entirely possible that it will still pour out of the cup when she upends it. The bitterness stings the back of her tongue and makes her grimace, then smile. "Thank you." The fresh bread cuts the harshness, and Diana offers her some grapes, too. "This is more than I normally eat before noon," Lois admits after a few bites. "Really? Don't you break your fast in Man's World?" Lois toasts Diana with her java. "Just with coffee. It's all I really need." She has another stinging sip and says, "And about this 'Man's World' stuff, I'm from America. Women vote there. There are women in the government." Diana presses her lips together. "They do not rule." She should have the list of senators at her mental fingertips, but it's not normally this hard to get the resources. If she had all her files, she'd know in a heartbeat. "In a lot of states -- subdivisions of our country -- they're elected to office." Diana picks up a bunch of dusty-skinned grapes and leans back in her chair, eating them one by one. "But it is the men who make the decisions. The men send liaisons, or do not, based on whether they think a country is worthy of their attention." She tips her head to one side. "I fear that I had to impress them with physical prowess before they considered a polis of women to be anything more than a joke." Lois swallows another sip of coffee. "What did you do?" "I lifted one of their conveyances over my head," Diana says, shrugging and reaching for another piece of bread like she does that sort of stuff every day. Lois knows the basic estimates on Diana's strength, but it's one thing to see it on paper and another thing to hear her being so nonchalant about it. "A car?" "I believe the word they used was a 'tank,'" Diana says. She leans forward and picks up the pitcher of coffee. "May I try your beverage?" "Of course," Lois says, trying to stop her voice from wobbling. "It's not so good reheated." "Hm." Diana pours herself a small mug and sips it. "It tastes like poison," she says, as if this is not particularly disturbing, but merely true. Lois tosses a grape up and catches it in her mouth. "It hasn't killed me yet." Then she remembers she's supposed to represent America -- and all of 'Man's World' -- and sits up straighter. "Your Highness." Diana sets her cup down. "I don't care to finish it. Have you eaten a sufficient amount?" One of the basic etiquette rules Lois has learned is never to get up before her host, but not to hang around when the host is ready to go, either. It works at the Planet, it works at meetings with head executives of companies, and with any luck, it will work here. She puts down her coffee and braces herself for another interesting trip into the wonderful world of women. "Sure." Diana takes her arm as soon as she stands up and leads her out of the palace, then down one of the wide, paved streets. There doesn't seem to be any reason for them to be as spacious as there are -- there aren't any carriages Lois can see, or chariots, or whatever Amazons use -- but there they are, spotlessly white as if they knew she was coming. Second turn to the left, third to the right, and instead of another house, they reach a building that is shaped like a picture frame, empty in the middle. Under the arches and in the central patio, some extremely naked young women are wrestling. Lois stares at them for as long as it takes to realize that they're truly not wearing anything, then looks away as soon as she can manage it and attempts not to respond. "The gymnasium," Diana announces cheerfully. "Perhaps some exercise would help you feel at home." "No," Lois says, looking straight at Diana. "Not here, anyway." Diana looks at Lois's arms -- and it's true, she hasn't lifted anything heavier than her luggage for long enough that they're tingling, missing the sensation. "You are a fit young woman, and it would be a discredit to us if we did anything to allow you to lose your health. Please, join us." The "us" sounds ominous. "I didn't bring my sweatsuit," Lois objects. Diana laughs. It echoes forcefully off of the walls. "You need only remove your clothing. The baths are adjacent, so that will not be a concern." Lois nods. "I gathered that. I'm -- I -- in my culture, we don't spend time naked around other people." "No one?" Diana asks. Lois looks away, sees the naked athletes, and looks back at her. "Only people you're romantically involved with, and not even them until you're married. Traditionally speaking." "How lonely," Diana says, and Lois finds herself nodding. "If you would prefer to return to the palace, Ms. Lane --" Lois takes a deep breath and unbuttons her blouse. "Please. It's Lois." * After the exertions of wrestling, the public baths are delicious. They are also improbably restful, considering the heat of the water and the local climate. Lois hasn't spent a lot of time around other naked women, but she recognizes a nice physique when she sees one. If the Princess ever gets in the market for a 'Man's World' consort, she'll have no trouble at all finding one. Fully dressed, on the way back to the palace, her cheeks are still a little pink. She's got the classic beauty thing going for her, and plenty of it. She'll just have to find a tall guy. Somebody with coloring that flatters hers -- a Greek, maybe, but they're not usually towering. Maybe a lanky Italian, but the guy Lois dated in college would be no match for Diana, even though he's got the height for her. "So," she says, "have you told the rest of the world you've got a foreign visitor? Or was America just lucky?" Diana smiles. "What would it matter to them what we do? We're not part of their world." Lois snorts. "I wish you were right, Princess." Diana touches her shoulder. Her hand is still warm from the baths. "Please. Call me Diana." "Diana, the whole world's going to be interested in you, if they're not already, and not because of anything I write home about." Diana's laughter is louder than Lois is used to hearing. Superlaughter, maybe, or laughter from a woman who's never been told to be demure in her life. She sure wasn't demure in the bath. "They've never cared about us before. We don't have anything to discuss with them." She grins at Lois. "We've nothing to trade -- and surely you don't mean you think we should set up factories here, or anything of that sort." "No, but you're women," Lois says. "That's plenty." She shook her head, and -- well, it should've been in the briefing, but nobody knew much of anything when they told her they knew everything. That's the government for you, and she has to ask, "Where do little Amazons come from, anyway?" "From the Gods." She can hear the capital letter on that one. Kind of like the Stork, except probably with a toga. It's a self-evident crazy answer, but the whole island's crazy. "Right, but really?" Even Diana's confusion is beautiful enough to be sculpted. Lois is inwardly grateful Jimmy's not along for this ride, because the ongoing photoshoot would not be catching her at her best. "That's the literal truth." An island of women with a direct line to gods. The government's going to love this one. "Okay," Lois says, and she can tell her skepticism's getting under Diana's flawless skin. "Children like me are gifts from the Gods, truly. There is no secret colony of men here." Diana frowns. "We're blessed with long lives and very few children." Lois knows better than to say that it sounds really inefficient. Divine intervention, right, swans dropping by once in a blue moon, okay, but those are just supposed to be explanations for somebody getting a little extra on the side. "Well -- then you don't understand Man's World." Diana takes Lois's arm. She's laughing again, relaxed as the child she says she is. "That's why we needed you." "Fair enough. But for men, women are -- well -- the way you get more men." "Then women should rule in your world as well. Why is your President a male?" This whole thing is giving Lois one heck of a headache. "Because men have power. Lots of it. And to them, your island -- well -- it's going to scare them when they really get it, because you don't need them, and they don't like that feeling." Diana says, "Then thanks be to Aphrodite that we are safe here from invasion." "I don't think they'd want to invade," Lois says, but when she looks at the grandeur of the palace, she's not sure she's telling the truth. "They'd rather marry you all, get you under their thumbs, and make Themyscira the same as the rest of the world. It's kind of the historical model, rape of the Sabine women -- conquest without a lot of blood." Diana takes her by the shoulders so fast and firmly that Lois remembers, in a rush, that she's dealing with a woman who maybe took longer to get to the Mediterranean from Metropolis than Superman would've, but who sure didn't need a plane for the trip. "They will not rape my people." "No," Lois says, backtracking, "no, of course not. That was a long time ago -- thousands of years." Diana's searching her face, though, and for all her journalistic experience, she's not good at telling baldfaced lies about something this patently false. "Then men no longer rape women?" "They -- they still do." "But not as part of conquest?" Lois closes her eyes and tries to forget the warzones -- foreign and all too domestic -- she's seen, at least for long enough to explain that that's not all there is in Man's World. "Sometimes." "They can't marry us," Diana says with the finality of her very own divine intervention. "And they will never touch us." "I'm sure they wouldn't try to marry anyone by force," Lois says, and by the middle of the sentence, she even sounds like she means it. Diana's quick smile is back again. "Then they will marry none of us, for most of us are already married." It's a good thing she's still got her hands on Lois's shoulders -- it stops her from swaying very much. "That wasn't in the press packet," she says faintly. "In what?" Diana asks. "What they told me before I left." Lois shakes her head, trying to clear it a little. "So -- you have marriages between women." "Of course," Diana says. "And divorce, when it's necessary." She squeezes Lois's shoulders and lets her go. "I suppose if someone wanted to, she could divorce her partner and marry a man, but if all men think that women are their property, I don't think anyone will." "All men don't think that," Lois says quickly, and she's thinking of one who's not properly apart of her world at all. "But -- no, I can see their objection." She glances at the palace -- they've been standing there long enough someone might wonder why, but she's with the Princess, after all, so probably no one will care. "Are you married?" Diana laughs. "No. I'm very young compared to most of my sisters." And is that literal sisters? Only the Gods know for sure. "They don't want me as a serious lover, only for a night or a week." The mental image of Diana as some Amazon's lover is extremely muscular and less distressing than Lois would have thought before she got to Themyscira. Watching the wrestling made it all seem more probable. "How old are you?" "I don't know that our reckoning system has any relation to your years," Diana says. Another note for the next briefing. "They're all older than I am, and that's enough for them. Besides, my mother doesn't want me to marry them." Diana in a puffy white gown next to some buxom wrestler in a veil -- no, it makes a picture that's more intimidating than funny. Lois gives her a sympathetic look. "Who does she want you to marry, if not someone she knows?" "Perhaps when I am old enough, she'll change her mind," Diana says wistfully. "But my sisters agree with her, and they all treat me as if I am still a child. When I went to Man's World the first time, I thought that I might find someone there who would accept me as a woman -- and an equal." Lois loves the obvious answer when she's writing a story, but right now, it tastes like bile. "If you want an equal, you'd better propose to Superman." Diana shrugs. "Possibly." There's no way Lois is going to be childish or unprofessional enough to say, "He's mine!" For one thing, Diana could break her with one hand. For another, in a lot of philosophical ways, Superman belongs to everybody, and in a lot of specific ways, he's only kissed her twice. "But the more I learn about Man's World," Diana says, "the less I think that I could ever love a man. I am not going to give any of them power over me, nor the hope that they could have it." "They're already hoping," Lois warns her. She may be a government operative, but a little treason goes a long way, and she likes Diana better than any of the spooks who could barely spell Themyscira. "It's part of how most men are." Diana wrinkles her nose. "Then you must help me, as cultural attaché. How can I show them that they have no such chance?" If they start talking about Miss and Ms. and Mrs., they'll be standing in front of the palace all day. "The only woman who counts as off-limits is a married one, and sometimes not even then." Diana glances at the palace and lowers her voice. "Then I should marry before I go back to Man's World." Lois fights the urge to laugh. "I'm not sure they'll believe that it counts if you're married to a woman." Diana actually has to lean down to whisper in Lois's ear. "Then you'll have to help me show them it's possible." "I can't just snap my fingers and change their minds," Lois protests. Thousands of years of practice, and this superwoman wants her to fix it all. She wouldn't even know where to start. But it sounds like an excellent prospect for a Pulitzer. "You are a woman by their laws, aren't you?" Diana asks, still whispering. "Well, yes." "Then we could marry." Lois forgets how to breathe. It doesn't count as the most embarrassing proposition she's ever received -- there have been enough <i>Planet</i> office parties, and Kent can't hold his liquor for anything, plus there was the stoner she dated right up until he asked her this same question -- but it's definitely the most out there. "That's not legal in my country," she says. She doesn't say that it's crazy, because that's rude. Stick to the facts, Lane. "We can marry here." Diana beams at her -- and if Lois is going to marry a woman, she may as well marry one who can carry her across the Atlantic and who smiles like a gift from the Gods. "It's perfectly legal, and entirely correct." She tames her own smile after a moment. "It would be a political statement, of course, and if you fell in love with another, we could separate at a moment's notice." "From marriage to divorce in thirty seconds," Lois says, trying to find her balance. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time." And after all, it's not like she has any flying men in her life, with flashing eyes and a smile that -- Lois rubs the bridge of her nose and acknowledges within the privacy of her mind that she has started to have a type, and that it's not one you can find just anywhere. "The thing is, I don't think the public will buy it." Diana frowns. "But it is your job to tell people what is true, isn't it? You write what happens, and they believe you." "Yes, but it's not usually about me." Lois takes a deep breath. "Well -- I write about Superman all the time, and I've stopped people from deciding he's a menace, more than once. It can't be that hard to -- to announce my own marriage." "It's more than that," Diana says. "Your sisters will see that they don't need to belong to men." "Right," Lois says, and she smiles. When she does it, she feels decades older than Diana looks. Diana takes her hand. "Then you will marry me?" Lois shivers. "I -- I don't actually know you. Or love you." "No, nor I you." Diana smiles at her. "But I am sure we will be fast friends." "I --" Lois thinks about all the men who have ever treated her like she's a commodity, whistled at her in the street or assumed she wanted them. This strange, political proposal is easier than all of those times. She is pretty good at convincing people to see her point of view, if she does say so herself. Just -- "I've never kissed a woman," she says. Diana chuckles. "Now, that's the easy part." And it's the simplest pick-up line she's heard in years, but it also turns out to be true. It helps that Diana's tall, that she's extremely strong, and that Lois is used to holding onto someone and having her feet not touch the ground partway through a kiss. * The actual royal wedding is a lot harder. The first press conference as the bride of Princess Diana has more shellshocked reporters than the resignation of a President, crowding the Athenian amphitheater the Themysciran delegation has claimed for the occasion. Perry sends Kent, who isn't quick enough for something like this. He's not in the front of the crowd like he should be -- if Lois were covering his wedding to some princess, you can bet she'd be right in his face, using the fact she knows him to get her questions answered. Clearly the <i>Daily Planet</i> isn't going to be nearly as prominent as it used to be when she gets back. With Kent on the big stories, the world is doomed. "We're married," Diana announces, her hand on the small of Lois's back, and there are questions and questions and more questions. "Is this true?" and Diana explains that it's about love and about politics, about how women don't need a man. "Like a fish needs a bicycle," Lois adds, and Diana looks confused. And on, in that vein, about who's changing whose name -- fat chance, after all that work on developing her own by-line -- and is it really, really true? There's a kiss for the photographers, and then the Amazon bouncers clear the crowd. They all came along with Diana to keep the peace in smoggy Athens. Kent's not ambitious enough to hang around afterward. He's going nowhere fast. Five minutes later, after the last reporter finds his pencil and goes home, Superman drops in. He gives Lois a look that makes her feel like she's kicked a superstrong puppy. "I've heard you're married, Ms. Lane. Congratulations." "More or less," she says, and gives Diana a look. Diana winks and says, "I'll see you in a few minutes, Lois." Being married to someone who has never had an actual galpal is easier than Lois thought it was going to be. She doesn't know the extent of Diana's hearing, either, but Diana gives them what looks like enough space to be private. Superman says, "She's very beautiful." He isn't looking at Diana at all. "Yes, I know," Lois says, making herself smile at him. If she's a newlywed, she'd better play it up. "You both are," Superman says more quietly. He looks at her for a long moment, then glances away as if he hears something. Maybe someone died while he's been talking to her. "How did you decide to get married?" Lois waves her hand. "Oh, you know. The air on the islands, the sunlight, young love." She hasn't gotten tired of the island. Yet. "This is a beautiful part of the world, yes," Superman agrees. "But --" he lowers his voice. "Do you miss Metropolis?" Lois looks away from him, toward Diana. He probably knows how to read her expression by now. "My Princess isn't in Metropolis, Superman." "No, but your vocation is." He doesn't say, "I am." Lois gives him credit for that. She also gives herself credit for not throwing her arms around his neck and begging to be taken home. "Millions of women give up their jobs to take care of their husbands. Why shouldn't I give up mine for her?" Lois knows this smile is much less sincere than it could be, but it's the best she can do. She's not going to tell him that she misses the smell of the presses so badly she dreams about it. "You have a point," Superman admits. His eyes are bluer than the Grecian skies. So are Diana's. "Thanks, Superman," Lois says, and takes a step away from him. "Isn't there some kind of emergency, somewhere?" If she's doing this right, he has no idea how much it costs her to say it. She trusts Diana -- and the whole political scheme -- to pay her back for it, if not in kind, then somehow. "Always," Superman says, looking away to the west. He floats up. "Take care of yourself." "Always," she says, and watches him go. Diana puts her arm around Lois's waist after a moment and watches with her. "You do love him," she says. "Who, Superman?" Lois shrugs. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" She puts everything she's got into grinning at Diana for the departed cameras. "My darling." Diana's answering smile has a tinge of sadness in it. "No, don't. It's enough that I'm your partner." Lois leans against her. "All right." She sighs. "So this is a political marriage, huh?" "Mother says that it's one of the duties of royalty in your world." "She has a point." Lois gives her an honest, crooked smile. "So, how's this marriage seem from your end, now that we've announced it in front of god and everybody? Still glad we went for it?" Diana hugs her. "Entirely. But you love him." Lois snorts. "Superman's not exactly in the market for a wife." If this goes on long enough, she'll get used to how intensely Diana can look at her. Sooner or later. "You never asked him." She's had staring contests with Lex Luthor -- she can take Diana. "It never came up. But you -- your --" Diana puts one finger over Lois's mouth. "Love doesn't matter to me. Shh." It's the first moment Lois feels like she's actually getting to know Diana. She can see the lie. * The Wedding Heard 'Round the World - Year One by Clark Kent THEMYSCIRA, June 21 -- One year ago today, the world shook at the news of the first wedding celebrated between two women: Princess Diana of Themyscira and Lois Lane, late of the United States. Since that time, the Princess and her expatriate bride have visited all of the countries of the world "except Monaco, San Marino, and Vatican City," says Ms. Lane, who has kept her maiden name. The Princess, who is also a priestess in the religion celebrated on Themyscira, has personally officiated at over 200 ceremonies since that date, joining 692 couples in marriage. All of those couples have been women. Although vocal opposition to the marriages exists, none of the ceremonies have been interrupted by protests, perhaps due to the Princess's physical prowess. The political ramifications of these weddings has extended as far as the Supreme Court of the United States, where the matter is being heard, the British Parliament, and similar bodies around the world. The women, whose numbers include industrialist Seana Hilts, movie star Milway Kennedy, and Doctor Elizabeth Walls, insist that their unions should be recognized in the same way as weddings between men and women. In the United States, the ACLU is supporting the defendants. </p><p> The Pope has declared that any Roman Catholic who engages in any marriage between two people of the same sex faces excommunication. No data exist on the religious affiliations of the women in question, but from the few who have spoken out, it seems clear that there are representatives of many creeds and ethnicities. The legal status of their unions will become clear later this year. Ms. Lane says of the Supreme Court's pending decision, "Whether they decide I'm legally married or not, I'll still love who I love. They can't change that with a law, so they might as well accept it." Demonstrations around the world have repeated this message in support of full marriage rights for all citizens with any partner of their choice.
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