It was fitting, in a way. Steve Trevor, a man who for the last four years had been fighting around the globe, chased by his enemies to the furthest reaches of the war, posing as no better friend or no worse enemy, and taking orders from men in London who by all accounts had not a single glimpse of the horrors of this great war. Fitting in a sense that after all these years of fighting, killing, running and spying, that Steve could go out on his own terms.

He was relieved by this. No more senseless murder, no more corpses of innocent women and children laying in the street, suffocated by the devastating and brutal nature of man. And as the plane slowly climbed higher and higher into the abyss of the Belgian night sky, Steve's mind naturally gravitated to the one woman who had brought him so much joy in this nightmare of a world.

Diana was something truly special. A shining beacon of hope, serenity and love amidst the dark, brutal and nightmarish hellscape that had become man's world. When she saved him on the shores of Themyscira- the soft white sand in her hair, the glistening morning sun painting her in light that God himself would only bestow upon the most beautiful of angels. He knew right then and there, as he coughed the water out of his lungs and was shaken free of the icy clutches of death, that Diana was otherworldly. Steve let out a scoff of disbelief and amazement. He was blessed with the presence and the love of a goddess. Someone who could turn the tides of war, inspire an entire generation, become the most powerful and yet the most loved figure in all of human history…

And she chose him.

He didn't deserve her. No one did. All the men he had killed, all the lives needlessly thrown away without a second's hesitation. He did Ares' work- no, man's work. He was the nightmare, the black scourge descending upon the Earth. They all were. And yet, Diana saw him, saw Charlie, Chief, Sameer, and the countless others that they had met along the way, for who they really were.

Steve looked down and could see the fires of battle between Ares and Diana growing smaller as he flew further and further away. He knew Diana would be able to take care of the gas. She was a demigoddess, and yet, Steve could think of nothing more wrong than to let her postpone her fight with Ares, the reason why she was here in the first place, to do something that he could do.

The echoes of his Father's words rang in his head.

It had to be him. There was nothing that he could do in a fight against the God of War. But he had to do something.

Steve pulled his pistol out of its holster for the final time, aiming it at the gas meant for hundreds of thousands. He closed his eyes, and immediately he saw everything.

The dusty cornfields in Kansas as a child, his Mother calling him to dinner while his father tended to the livestock and the dogs barked wildly. The family trip to New York to see his first ever baseball game, the wonder of the popcorn and the crack of the bat still vivid in his mind. The blonde hair and blue eyes of a girl he once loved as a teenager, who by now had probably forgotten his name.

The day he enlisted in the Army, to the wailing protests of his mother to the somber, yet understanding nod of his Father. The very first time he strapped into the new flying machines men called airplanes. Invented in what seemed a blink of an eye, and already doing their bidding in the wars of man. The cold air buffeting his face, the freedom and pure bliss as he climbed into the sky on a cloudy French morning.

Then he heard them. The agonizing screams of the dying, the mutilated and disfigured. The gasps for life as a cloud of death permeated over the battlefield. The blood of Steve's enemies coated on his knife, his hands, his face. The sleepless nights and the tears of agony and betrayal. The burning of scotch in his throat as he tried to drink all the horrors away.

And then he saw her smile.

Steve knew he loved Diana, but it seemed almost incomprehensible when she smiled. The way she smiled when he came to on the beach, the look of wonder and amazement in her eyes as she took in the sights of London. How her expression turned from curiosity to magical joy as the snow fell in her hair. When they woke up together the next morning, the way she looked up at him with an ever so subtle smile as the rays of sun slowly danced their way through the window. Steve thought he had died and gone to heaven.

But now he actually was going to die.

Steve Trevor would never grow old, would never start a family with the woman he loved. He never would get to hear Charlie sing again, or try and stifle a laugh as Sameer swindled a group of unsuspecting travelers. Etta would never have to constantly remind him of his appointments and scold him to stop working so hard. He never would see his old rickety bran in the cornfield, or eat a plate of his Mother's cooking. He never would be able to see the end of this godforsaken war.

Steve Trevor would never have enough time.

And yet, when he saw Diana on the runway for the final time, when he confessed his love to her, knowing he would never see her again, Steve was grateful. Grateful for Diana saving him from himself, grateful for Diana seeing what man's world really was in all its beauty and horror and imperfections-through him. Grateful for giving him the opportunity to do something on his own terms.

Tears welled up in Steve's eyes as the timer ticked down. This was it. With a scream, he pulled the trigger, and in a flash, Steve Trevor burned up in the night sky.

Steve would never do many of the things he wanted to do in life, he would forever be saddled with regrets and the horrors of war.

But he loved Diana Prince. And that made it all worth it.