"You know what the objectives were," she began, her feet seeming to move without thought as she spoke, carrying her aimlessly around the room, "achieve a cease-fire and then coordinate negotiations between the two sides for peace, then assist with relief in any way possible. You saw the battle, you know it was nothing extraordinary-lots of guns and grenades…" She faded out for a moment, clearly falling into the memory, then gathered a breath and dictated it to me.
"I had just snapped a rifle in half and borne the soldier carrying it to the ground when I looked up and saw a young boy in army fatigues only a few feet away from us. I assumed he was a prisoner of the rebel army-why else would he be in the middle of all this-so I yelled at him to hide until the firing stopped, and went right back to binding the hands of the soldier pinned beneath me. It never once occurred to me that the child was there for any other reason…"
Realization shuddered through me as I suddenly saw where all this was going. So this was her undoing…
"I felt the pain before I realized that the gunshot had been directed at me," she said, slower now, as she stopped pacing and stood still before the glass. "The bullet went through my shoulder and knocked me backwards, and but I came up with my hands raised to deflect a second shot if there was one. The pain was staggering of course but I forgot it as soon as I saw him holding the rifle in rigid arms. A child had shot me…a child…"
My heart wrenched at the pain in her voice, my hand tightening reflexively into a fist. Of course. No mere human could have simply overpowered Diana, it could only have been something she had never seen coming. And I could bet she had never heard of child soldiers, never known to anticipate them in areas as undeveloped as where we had been.
The story began to come out of her faster.
"I yelled at him to put the gun down, but of course he didn't move. We faced off, my open hands still raised against his gun. Talking peace had not worked with this boy's leaders, but I thought perhaps it could work with him, so I kept talking. 'It's all right,' I said in English first, but when he only blinked in response I attempted the limited words I knew in the local dialect of this area. 'It's all right, I'm not here to hurt you, but you must trust me. Don't shoot.' His eyes widened when he heard me speaking his language, his arms going limp with the gun in them, though he kept it pointed at me."
Of course she had tried to talk him down. Of course she had not seen a threatening soldier, only an overwhelmed child.
"I approached him slowly, my hands still raised in peace, until I was close enough to place my hand on the end of rifle and push it gently to the side. He was staring transfixedly at me, leg trembling as though he had the urge to run, but I laid my other hand on his shoulder to keep him there. 'You don't have to stay here,' I attempted with a nodding gesture towards the conflict around us, almost certain my words were coming out a jumbled mess, but he seemed to understand me. 'We need peace. You don't have to fight anymore. Are you ready to go home?'"
She fell silent, her hands resting against the glass, every muscle I could see gradually pulling tight again. I fought the urge to rise and go to her but kept my word to stay, let her stand on her own feet for as long as she could. I could only watch with bated breath as the cracks within her fissured deeper, but soon the silence stretched thin and I thought I had lost her.
"Diana?" My voice seemed to call her back and she straightened her shoulders, pulled her hands away from the glass and finally turned to me. Once again, she was the embodiment of that shadow, but now there was little semblance of her left. All I could see was her pain. She was remembering it, I recognized; she was feeling the source of all the pain again and fighting hard to not to let it crash down upon her. But she needed to say it, needed to acknowledge it…
"What happened, Diana?" I asked as sincerely and gently as I could. Her eyes met mine, flickering like smoldering embers.
"I offered to take him home, Kal. And he said, 'Home is gone.' And then I was on the ground."
I saw the weight gradually increase on her shoulders as she pushed a hand through her hair and began to pace breathlessly around the room again. The crack was webbing its way up the wall of the dam, trickles of water working in reaching tendrils through the stone.
"I just don't understand," she suddenly said out loud in voice like broken glass. "How? How can these people keep doing this to each other? How can they knowingly kill and maim and destroy their brothers and sisters, just because they feel there is a higher cause?"
Her shaking hands tightened into fists as she turned towards me again, but I had a feeling she was barely seeing me anymore. She's not just talking about the people we saw today…this goes far beyond that…
"This will not end. No words I can say, no campaign I could lead- none of it will be enough to keep this from happening somewhere again in the future. They will keep doing this- they've been doing this for thousands of years and what good have any efforts to stop it been? What good have any of us done? I just don't understand…" The last words made no sound, the initial silence of a fall from a great height.
And suddenly, the tears were there.
For a suspended second, she just stood there without breathing as the tears slid down her cheeks, looking as startled by their sudden appearance as I was. As she drew a shuddering breath though, her face crumpled, and even as she covered her mouth with her hands I heard a tremulous whimper escape her lips. Everything inside her seemed to implode, collapsing in on itself like a house of cards, and her body followed suit. Her knees gave as though the heaviness upon her was suddenly too great, and then she was falling, one hand reaching out for something firm to hold onto…
It didn't matter what she had commanded before- I wasn't about to let her fall alone.
I moved without thought, crossing the distance between us in a single movement, her hand landing in mine and the rest of her falling into my arms. I slowed her descent as we both sank to the floor, supporting her gently by the shoulders as her legs folded beneath her and she crumpled against me, weeping. I wanted to hold her, pull her to my chest fold her into me, but I couldn't do that to her, not when she had already let one monumental barrier fall so dramatically in front of me. I couldn't ask her to forsake the other.
Wordlessly, I pulled the abandoned quilt from her bed and draped it around her shoulders, giving her at least one thin barrier between herself and my touch, then eased her back against the foot of her bed and sat down beside her. She didn't fight me at all, collapsing into my side as I slipped my arm around her and drew her in, cradling her head against my chest like I had wished I could have done in that last momentous storm.
We sat there in the non-silence as her grief flooded out in a deluge of tears, a storm of its own loosed from within her. She seemed more than overwhelmed by the force of it all, almost as alarmed as she was anguished. The confusion in her eyes and the strength of her tears made me wonder how long it had been since she had last cried. She was hardly breathing, barely managing shuddering gasps around her sobs, and I felt her panic growing as she shook within my embrace. I tightened my grip around her and rested my chin against the top of her head, surrounding her from all sides with solidity like an attempt to contain an explosion.
"Just breathe, Diana, just think of the breath you're taking and nothing else," I said softly against her hair as she trembled within my embrace. "Breathe with me." I drew a deep, intentional breath and felt her chest press against mine as she did the same. Gradually, I felt the shudders in her body dissipating. "That's it. Just keep breathing," I said softly, pressing my hands against her body through the blanket as if strength could diffuse from one person to another with just enough pressure.
She wept for a long time.
I held her as it all poured out, watching in reverent silence as the overwhelming flood swept through her, breaking everything from its foundations. The grief for what she'd seen today wasn't all I was seeing bleed from her soul now; it was everything painful she'd experienced in this world of ours, everything tragic and terrible, everything devastating and horrifying. All things she'd feared she would drown in, an ocean of unknown that she'd never allowed herself to dive into.
And sadly, she still hadn't wanted to today. I had just been there to force her hand.
I don't know how much time passed before her tears subsided, but by the time her shaking stopped and she dried her tears with the strap of her dress, I doubted she had any voice left. It was for the better, since as soon as she glanced up at me and I saw the traces of shame still lingering in her eyes, I knew what I needed to say.
"These things we call tears, Diana?" I said softly, catching the last bead of moisture as it slipped from her chin like a raindrop in a desert, "You've been taught that they're a sign of weakness, a sign that you've failed. But all anyone else sees is a sign that you're human. That you lost something you cared about deeply. And that you're willing to let others see that."
She closed her eyes and tipped her head back down against my shoulder but didn't turn away. Though I had a feeling she was focusing on stitching herself back together inside, I prayed she would hear what I said as the words flowed without restraint.
"Greif is a complicated word because it refers to everything that follows a great loss-and I think that's what you're feeling now. At first it's just shock. Disbelief. Horror. Then you find yourself denying it. Wanting to find some way that it can't be true. But inevitably you realize that it is as awful as it seemed, and then you feel anger. Anger at the cause of it all, anger at the people around you for not understanding…and then when you finally let that anger go, you find yourself empty. Broken. Full of sadness that doesn't seem to end for a long time. But it does start to lift, and that's what we call acceptance. It's not pretending like something didn't happen, or that it didn't matter, didn't hurt greatly. It's accepting that life is always going to be different now…but it's going to go on and it can still be life worth living.
"You're feeling grief for this planet, Diana. For these people. Because try as we might, we can't keep them from turning against one another. You're right when you say we just can't prevent this from happening again. We can't change that something in certain people will always be determined to cause conflict, fight each other, knowingly harm and hurt and even kill each other, and lead others to do the same. We can't be everywhere, we can't prevent every conflict, and as much as we wish we could, we will not be able to save every life."
We had had this conversation years ago. But I had forgotten that truth sometimes needs restating.
"There will be days when you wonder why you are still doing this. Why you keep giving your time, your strength, your heart to a people who can never really repay you for what you're giving to them. And there are some days that you'll wonder why it still matters. Why you even care about these people that you don't actually belong to, can't truly relate to. But on those days, you have to remind yourself of all those reasons why you started doing this in the first place."
She surprised me by finally speaking then from beneath my chin, a toneless question in the voice she'd managed to restore. "Why do we do this, Kal?"
The one question that was impossible to answer. I could only speak for half of the we.
"Why do we protect them? I can't speak for you, but I know for me it's because I've chosen to love them in spite of everything. And real love always demands sacrifice."
I realized then that I was combing my fingers through her hair, the familiar, unthreatening touch I had grown so used to resorting to. Even now, all barriers were down except one.
An image of a storm-tossed sea flickered through my memory- leaping from the cliff and desperately hoping she would follow but knowing it was her choice to make…
"It is a dangerous thing, Diana, to let yourself care about a people, even more dangerous to care especially for one person. It's putting yourself at risk, and it goes against our survival instinct. It's willingly leaving your heart open to any wound that person, or those people, could purposefully or accidentally inflict. But loving someone like that- that's the only way we get to truly feel what this world has to offer. It's the only way we truly get to live. To venture out into open water, fearfully hoping that that person won't leave us. It's in that adventure that we know we're truly living, as we experience every joy and every hurt. And most of all, this pain I know you're trying not to feel right now…that's how you know you're really alive."
My brain was trying to take control of my words again, reminding me I was admitting too much, but my heart wasn't done speaking yet.
"There's something critical you have to remember, Diana." She looked up and met my eyes as I faced her intently, one hand smoothing her hair out of her face. "We might be considered this world's heroes because we have gifts that set us apart from everyone else. But in the end, we're human because we are never completely separate. We will always feel for a people that we don't belong to. And that's what actually makes us heroic. What makes you a wonder."
She bit her lip and ducked her head again, but not before I saw the storm of emotions rise once more behind her expression. I wondered then if I had done more harm then good, if she would ever be able to control her emotions as before.
"I'll never forgive you for this, Kal," she muttered unthreateningly into my shoulder, and I caught a laugh as I realized we were thinking the same thing.
"I think I can live with that, Diana. There are worse things to be hated for." I ruffled her hair gently, wondering if she would ever let me hold her like this again.
But she lifted her head then, and as I turned to meet her vibrant eyes, one of her hands slid out from beneath the blanket to rest lightly against my cheek. It was nearly too much to fight in that moment, so I closed my eyes and tipped my forehead to rest against hers to keep myself from doing anything else. We breathed in sync and I wondered if she understood how hard it was for me to do so little.
"I don't deserve you," she suddenly whispered, soft words heavy with emotion. Cryptic words that said so much and so little, but words that, either way, weren't true.
I drew back and our eyes opened at the same time, our gazes meeting with the force of magnets aligning. Without letting myself think twice, I slid my hand from her shoulder to cradle her face, a long-awaited touch that now had only resolve behind it. Her eyes captured mine, that fearless gaze returning, trying to take my words from me, but not this time.
"Diana…you deserve every good thing this world has to offer you. To live in this world, to give and bleed and sacrifice for it…for that, you deserve every wonderful thing it could give back to you. So don't you ever say you don't deserve happiness. Because it's this world that doesn't deserve something as wonderful as you."
She had done it again-drawn a confession out of me with absolutely no effort on her part, and again I felt the mixture of horror and hope fill me simultaneously as I realized she had just glimpsed the piece of my heart I had tried my best to camouflage. And still I found myself unable to take my eyes off hers, because I needed to know- needed her to know…
She didn't flinch but I watched her eyes suddenly flood with tears again, perhaps the last thing I had expected to happen. She seemed just as startled, and her hands flew to hide her face, concealing her vulnerability still an automatic reaction.
This time though, I couldn't let it go.
I caught her hands in mine and stopped short her effort to mask her emotion, and when her eyes pleaded with me to not ask for any more, I returned the sentiment with equal intensity.
"Let it go Diana," I whispered, years of emotions distilled into one simple plea. "I'm right here. Just let go."
Her eyes closed though and she ducked her head, and at first I was afraid I had crossed the line at last and asked too much. I prepared myself to be pushed bodily away, asked to leave, told forcefully to leave her alone…
But she did none of that. Instead of fighting it again, she let the tears fall, and when she sank against me once more, I gave in and held her against me as tightly as I could. My heart cracked within me in that moment though as I considered that even now, she probably didn't understand, probably had no idea how much this meant to me-how much she meant to me. But I couldn't say those words-this wasn't the time for that- so I just held her like it was the last time because I knew it might be.
I might have been content to stay like that with her forever, but all things do pass, and I could tell she was still a little relieved when she was able to get herself under control again. As she raised her head, her forehead scraped along my jaw and our cheeks brushed each other, the inebriating nearness scrambling my thoughts for a second. It took every ounce of my willpower to lower my head and press my hands against the floor instead of taking her in my arms again. She moved at the same time though, scooting marginally away and straightening her back, strength seeming to return to her limbs as she let the blanket fall from around her body. Sliding apart felt like being stripped of a layer of skin, and despite the warmth that had been compounded by our contact, the jealous cold air immediately slid in to fill the space that returned between us.
She leaned back against the foot of her bed, pushed her hair out of her face with both hands, smiled at the ceiling and muttered, "I must look like hell…" But then she looked over at me and smiled, eyes sparkling again with vitality and sincerity, and I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't even speak. Stripped of all her reserve, her composure, and even her uniform and tiara, eyes red-rimmed and bandages still around her chest, she was an absolute mess. And yet the sight of her had never shattered me as it did in that moment, because that was when I knew for certain what I'd wondered since that night in Paris.
She was not impossible-she was real.
I got to my feet quickly so that I could offer a hand to help pull her to hers, and when she stood on her own feet without swaying, I felt an exhausted sense of relief flood through me. What I'd made her do hadn't broken her further. It had begun to solder the seams back together. I smiled without thinking, the thankfulness probably evident on my face, and she returned the expression. Only when she squeezed my hand gently did I look down and realize that she hadn't let go of it yet.
It was that same picture I had thought I'd only see once, our hands embracing each other without one turning itself carefully away. Her hand was wrapped in mine but not dwarfed by it, and as she looked down too and closed her eyes with the smile still on her lips, her palm rotated intentionally and our fingers entwined without thought. Then she took a small but momentous step forward, closing the gap between us again, freed her hand from mine and slid her arms around me for the first time. My arms returned the gesture and I marveled at the sensation of another person filling the space around me precisely- our frames fit together, her curved edges accepting my rough angles, softening the sharp points, filling the voids and displacing everything between us with her warmth. I felt her heartbeat pressed against my own, the twin cadences within us forming countermelodies as they pounded out life. I couldn't help turning my head and letting my lips brush her forehead, our connection taking every other thought hostage.
"Diana," I breathed against her skin, the only word I could remember though there were surely a million things I wanted to say.
Her forehead brushed my jaw as she lifted her head and her fearless gaze drew mine like a magnet. She slid one arm back between us and she smoothed her fingertips tenderly over the new scar on my brow before resting her hand against my cheek once again, warm and intentional. "It's all right, Kal," she whispered, her words ghosting over my lips like phantom messengers. "I know."
And then, before I understood what she meant, she leaned in and kissed me.
It was so unexpected that in that explosive instant, every other thought disappeared without a trace. The universe ground to a halt as we stood there, her lips pressing mine unhurriedly for an eternal instant and her hand cradling my cheek. When she gently broke the kiss and drew back just enough for us to look each other in the eye again, I saw hers blazing once again with life.
"I know," she whispered again as she tipped her forehead against mine, her fingers weaving into my hair and giving it a familiar, gentle tug. "I know."