You find her deep in the cave, hidden behind the thunderous veil of a waterfall. The air is cool and damp, smelling of wet stone and earth. For days, she has been here, alone. Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, lies on a bed of smooth rock, the American flag clutched to her chest like a child’s blanket. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs you can feel in your own bones.

Yara, Donna, and Cassie brought you here. They said you were the only one she might listen to now. They wait outside the waterfall, a perimeter of worried warriors. You are not a warrior. You are weak. You scare easily. You remember the terror of being pulled into this world, a place of gods and monsters, and how her hand was the first offered not in violence, but in kindness. That was the moment. The moment you devoted every death, every painful reset of time, to protecting her.

You kneel beside her. The Lasso of Lies, a weapon anyone should never have been able to wield caused it. The Sovereign, Charles Henry, led a crusade withe Amercian Army and A.X.E to remove Amazons from America, which they failed. So he united her foes against her and then personnally break her with the lasso. And finally, he killed Steve Trevor.

“Diana,” you say, your voice barely a whisper against the roar of the falls.

She doesn’t look up, but her crying stills. She knows it’s you. She has always let you get close, even when she pushed the world away. She saw something in you from the start—not strength, but a stubborn, relentless fidelity. A mortal heart that chose her, again and again, as its absolute north.

“They need you out there,” you say, but that’s not what you came to say. You came to say everything else. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for you.”

You take a breath. Your hands are trembling. You are so scared. But for her, you are always brave.

“You changed my life,” you tell the curve of her back, the dark cascade of her hair. “You were the first true thing I found in this chaotic world. Your kindness wasn’t pity. It was strength. You showed me that justice isn’t just a sword; it’s an open hand. You made me want to be better. To be someone worthy of standing beside you, even if I never could.”

You swallow, the words sticking in your throat. “I have devoted every breath, every death, to you. Not out of duty. Not because you’re a hero. But because you are Diana. You are stubborn, and idealistic, and you laugh with your whole body. You get frustrated when you can’t solve a problem with peace first. You believe in love so fiercely it terrifies the cynics. You are the most important person in any world.”

You reach out, your fingers hovering just above her arm. “And I am in love with you. I have been since the moment you saw a lost, frightened man and chose to see a person instead.”

Finally, she turns. Her eyes are red-rimmed, vast and deep with a pain that could swallow galaxies. There is no surprise in them. Only a profound, weary recognition. She knew. On some level, through all your clumsy teasing and devoted acts, she must have known. She was just too burdened by war and legacy to see it clearly.

Finallly... You lean in, and you kiss her.

It is not a kiss of passion, but of confession. Of surrender. It is you, giving her the last true thing you possess—your vulnerable, human heart. Her lips are soft, and taste of salt.

When you pull back, you are braced for rejection, for sorrow.

Instead, you see it. A light, rekindling in the depths of her eyes. The ghost of a smile touches her lips. It is small, but it is real. It is the sunrise after a long, cold night.

She sits up, letting the flag fall gently to the stone. She takes your hand, her grip firm and warm, and brings your knuckles to her lips for a brief, solemn kiss.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice hoarse but clear. “For seeing me. For reminding me.”

She stands, drawing a deep, steadying breath. The grief is not gone, but it is now a part of her armor, not her chains. She looks toward the waterfall, toward the sound of war waiting beyond it.

She is ready to fight back.