She knows that he is dead, but that doesn't stop her from seeing him, looking shaken and pale and cold, wandering through the crowd like a lost sheep. Next to him is a stranger with a lightning bolt on his chest and mask on his face and she would consider him a son of Zeus and therefore brother but there are no others like her. She is the last and unable to perform miracles so how can he still be here when Zeus is still weak so that he cannot fight his own son?
Her lips twitch as she recalls an offhand remark he had made when she had first told him about her role in all of this—sibling squabbles, he had said, and when inquired upon he explained that sisters may also have brothers and may fight with them like she had fought with the others on Themyscira before her training began. Is this the normal aftermath of a sibling squabble? Her lover—no, friend, she corrects herself; thinking of him as anything else makes her feel raw and like she's been torn open though friend isn't the word for him either—dead? Seeing the ghost of him wandering around and knowing he's not truly there, escorted by a demon or angel, she's not sure which, in red with the mark of her father on his chest and on his pulled-off mask?
If this is humanity's destiny, war after war after war, never learning their mistake, then she wants to run back to her homeland, put her head in her mother's lap, feel the comforting weight of her mother's hand running through her hair again. That is all she wants.
The men all around her are tending to their wounds as equals and she can see Doctor Poison slinking off but she feels no hate for the woman. She doesn't think that she can feel anything anymore. Maybe he had hollowed her out with his words, turning her into a husk.
She can't bear the sight of him wandering around the crowd anymore.
Sitting down heavily, unnoticed by all but the red-wearing man, and he's there within a second. There is another, now, and within the blink of an eye they've had an entire conversation because he's a 'speedster', whatever that is, and she's a demigod—goddess—Amazonian and she's gasping for air because the conversation went like this:
Diana! Hey, how you doing?
Who are you?
Oh, yeah, I'm Barry! Barry Allen, aka the Flash. We know each other in the future.
What on earth are you talking about?
Well, I was born in 1989 and we know each other through Bruce Wayne—
How are you here, then?
Complicated science, but I can time travel if I'm fast enough. You helped me figure out how.
Are you a god?
No, you and your father are the last major ones alive.
Zeus is alive?
Yes, and it's because of him that I'm back.
You've spoken to Zeus?
No, but you have. I mean, you will. In the future. You told me—or will tell me—that he came to you in a dream because he's finally got his powers back and told you to tell me to save Steve Trevor because he's proud of you and now he's immortal like you.
I'm not immortal.
Like I said, Zeus is proud of you.
I'm insane, aren't I?
Nah. I thought you were, at first, when and until you hit me with lightning to give me my powers by accident—you know what, let's save that whole messy business for the future. Long story short, you thought you were helping me but you were just doing what the man that killed my mom wanted you to do so you gave me powers so I could kill him and save my mom but I didn't save my mom—yeah, for the future, yes?
Then she's blinking and coughing and gasping but no one is paying attention to the woman who'd been flying earlier because their mortal brains just can't comprehend it—later, they'll say she'd shot missiles from a plane. She must really be going insane with grief except now Chief is patting her back and asking the man who he is—
"You can see him too?" she whispers.
Chief gives her an odd look. "Of course I can. He's standing right in front of me, isn't he? Steve says Flash saved him."
"Steve's dead," Diana says and the words scrape over her skin like knives and jackhammers are pressing into the back of her eyelids, forcing tears and choking sobs out. "There's no way he's alive. He's dead and I could have saved him, I could have, I should have, of course I could've—"
"If you're a woman who can summon lightning and fly then there might just be a chance a man can run at the speed of light and save Steve," Chief says and just now Diana notices the tear tracks etched into his face. "You had to kill Ares and the Flash had to help Steve."
"How are you dealing with this better than me?" Diana laughs wetly, still not looking up as she sees a pair of boots falter and change direction—towards her.
"Oh, I'm not," Chief promises. "Inside I'm screaming my head off."
The boots are getting closer and closer but Diana doesn't want to look up and see his face because he's alive now but maybe he's not and then he'll die soon enough and more time will just make it worse—
She's sprinting away before she realizes she's pulled out the watch, clutching it to her heart as the landscape rushes past and then she's in the forest and she knows that the ghost will be here soon but she just can't run anymore so she collapses to the ground, sobbing.
She sees him before she hears him, rising over the horizon like an angel because he is one to her and she's waiting at the edge of the trees, wavering, because she wants nothing else but to touch him but if she touches him and can't she'll break into a thousand little pieces that she won't be able to put back together.
His face is black with soot, hair singed, but no one could ever look more handsome than him in that instant.
A single tear slips down her cheek as he draws to a stop in front of her, close enough to reach but too far, way too far.
What are you doing? Diana asks herself, scolding. You defeated Ares, you should be able to reach out. Somehow it requires more courage than looking the god of war in the eyes had.
He's solid.
Diana's eyes close with relief and she wilts against him, sobbing and pounding weakly even for human standards against his chest and he staggers but holds her weight. "I said I could do it," she wails. "You stupid, stupid man! Why couldn't you let me do it?"
His mouth opens and his voice is exactly the same except maybe for a little scratchiness probably because of the smoke. "I had to."
She doesn't want to, but she raises her head to look him in his beautiful blue eyes before crushing his mouth against hers, sloppy yet reassuring that he's here, he's never going to leave her again. "Don't," she breathes against his lips when they've finished and he somehow understands what she's saying.
"I won't," he promises.
"I—I love you," Diana confesses and shock, relief, happiness crosses over his face all in the time span of a few milliseconds and then his face slackens.
"I love you, too," he breathes and this time the kiss is slow and sweet, hands reaching up to cup her cheeks, her arms wrapping around his neck, and they stay like that for two seconds and two millenia.
They'll have to go explain their situation to their friends and thank Barry but for now they can reassure each other that they're here, they both survived, this is real.
Diana can feel the tears sliding down her cheeks but Steve is also crying so there's no shame. There never was and never will be. They've got forever to be together.