Chapter 1
She is only visiting Themyscira, hoping to gather her wits. The rest of the world is at war, yet again, and as much as Diana wishes to help... she has long since shed the innocence she carried when she first set to the war.
So home it is, where she returns with her tail between her legs. Hippolyta hugs her tight when she arrives, only lets go after Diana has cried on her shoulder. It's unfair, how returning home makes her feel like a child all over again. Her mother reprimands, but they both know Diana will leave once again when she gets a hold of her thoughts, and this time Hippolyta will let her go willingly. But at the rate her brain moves, like the sea on a windy day, she's not leaving until the war is over, for better or worse.
"Why do you hesitate?" her mother asked Diana when she seeked her advice.
"Because I fear it will be the same," she said, "I will see good, then bad and worse, and I will love, only to lose that love, and then they will start another war." she looked at her mother, the queen of the Amazons whose face had not been so gentle in many years. "Mother, what can I do?"
"You can not do anything unless your mind is as clear as the sky on a cloudless day, Diana."
So she'd stayed. It's been three months, since, and Diana has sat on the edge of the water, the same beach she had dragged Steve to, and stared. The weathers have kept warm, like they always do, but the sky has yet to be cloudless. It's as if it is mirroring Diana's hesitation, the doubt clouding her heart like the clouds hide the sun.
She lies on her back, crosses her fingers over her stomach. She has not wore an armor since coming back. She fears only the feeling of it on her body will raise her spirits and she will dive head first into a battle and get her heart broken yet again.
It had been so easy, then, to don the suit and take to the war, fearless. Steve had been at her side, shrewd and amusing and beautiful, and he'd been what is good in the world.
Diana closes her eyes. Breathes. She shouldn't. When she opens her eyes again, her heart is yawning open and demaning attention. Diana wishes she could, would know what to do with a broken heart. But she doesn't, and so she pushes it aside, hides it behind smiles and posture.
It's because she's visiting Themyscira and laying on the cliff she jumped to save Steve from that lead to the following. Something blocks the sun, the hum of an engine fills her ears. For two seconds, Diana's heart soars. Then she sees it. Another plane, but so much bigger. It's nothing alike the plane Steve arrived on, the one that fits two people. But it's heading straight towards the water.
The moment is reminiscent and cruel, but Diana shoves her heart away and starts running. She doesn't know how many people are on the aircraft, or how many of them she should save, but for now she is reaching for the single person she can see: the pilot. Water surrounds her seconds after the plane has sunk, and Diana has easy pass inside, the windows having broken upon impact. She grabs the pilot, a tall man, and kicks upwards towards the surface. His heartbeat is still strong under her fingers, so she's not afraid he'll pass just yet, but he might've swallowed water.
It wouldn't be the first time she sees someone drown.
She drags the man to the sand, her heart shuttering with pain, as another aircraft sinks to the bottom. Their waters are starting to resemble battle grounds.
Diana has learned some things since Steve, in the hypothetical event of something similar happening again. But again, this time just as she's setting her hands to the man's chest -large and with a white star on it -he coughs and the water comes out.
Diana leans back on her knees and waits. The man coughs too few times, gasps once or twice and then he opens his eyes. They're blue like the sea, as deep and bright. Diana's heart aches.
The world is such a cruel place.
"Hello," she says, when the man keeps staring ahead into the ocean. He doesn't startle physically, but Diana can read the surprise off his face when he turns. His blue eyes widen with same shock and awe as Steve's.
"Hi," he says, "are you an angel? Is this Heaven?"
Now. Diana has been called an angel a few times over her years in the outside world. She'd quickly learned it was meant to be flirtation in complimenting the woman's appearance. But this one. He sounds so innocent, hopeful, a little scared. He thinks he's dead. Diana supposes that makes sense.
"No," she says gently. "This is Themyscira, and I am Diana." She has long since shed the title of Princess, unless she is feeling boisterous.
The man tilts his head, squints at her. Diana can only compare him to Steve. She waits.
"I'm not dead?"
Diana feels a smile stretch her lips. It feels like a gentle smile, like a loveless version of the smile smiled upon the picture of Steve on the board of fallen soldiers. She doesn't like this smile. It reeks of pity. The man apparently thinks so too.
"You're not dead," she confirms, it would be cruel not to, and Diana will be anything but cruel. He doesn't look relieved. "Were you alone on the plane?" she asks then because what if he wasn't, and Diana has just killed someone important to this man.
He hesitates. "Yes."
Diana wishes for her lasso, her hands twitch and start to reach for it before she remembers. She has only worn cotton and silk for months.
She feels soft.
She is not.
"You lie."
He looks quilty. "They're all dead."
"They should be," she answers, "it's common when one drowns." Diana does not know where this scathing feeling of irritation is coming from. She knows already what he means with his words, she does, and yet. And yet. Maybe it is his disrespect of their passing, maybe it's only that he lied to her.
"I'm sorry," she says nevertheless. "I do not take kindly to lies."
"Neither do I," the man smiles sadly, "I'm sorry too."
There's silence, in which Diana watches him. He is bigger, stronger than most soldiers she has seen. He has no imperfection, no scars and no blemish on his skin.
He is not human.
But Diana does not know what he is.
No one has come yet. Last time their warriors arrived half as fast. Diana stands up. "Come," she says, "I'll show you my land."
He stands up on command, uninjured, unhindered. He follows her easily.
Hippolyta greets them before they reach the city. She is alone, but Diana knows not one sane man would try to cross her. He does not, though she watches his ears redden at the sight or her mother's legs. Diana has grown a taste in long dresses over her time in the world, so as freeing as it is to switch the heavy, dark fabrics for the flowing white of her home-country, she could not choose a dress shorter than the one that reaches her knees. Her mother, though, as any other warrior, has no such limitations. Diana has and does not think it improper, after all, it frees your legs for further movement, but the rest of the world does not yet agree. The men can barely breathe when they see a woman's knees, let alone her thighs. This one's ears redden and eyes snap up. Diana likes him.
"Diana." she sighs as if solely Diana could be held responsible, "You brought another one."
Diana feels like a child again, insisting against her mother, pushing against someone so unyielding.
"He would have died, mother."
Hippolyta sighs, soft and gentle, and looks at Diana. "This is where it started last time, you know that."
"I do."
Her mother spares her one look, love and tenderness, before her focus shifts on the soldier next to her. "Who are you?"
"Captain Rogers, ma'am," he answers curtly, snapping into motion as men do in armies when they are adressed by one their superior.
Captain, Diana muses. Her Steve used to be a Captain. Hippolyta eyes her, slight confusion in the lines of her face.
"It is a formal way to adress a woman," she explains. They have no such things, no need to genderize respect, and if you wish to show yours, you are to adress her by title. Hippolyta aligns her head only slightly in understanding.
"I do not care of your title, Captain, and last names are of little use here," her voice turns warm, "I wish to know what you want people to call you."
Here, he hesitates. Before, Diana would not have understood such distrust in others. Now, she holds such distrust, herself, neatly tucked behind her heart to whisper doubt and protection in the outside world.
"Steve, ma'am. You may call me Steve."
Diana feels like her heart might stop. Steve. Captain Steve with blue eyes and blonde hair and who crashed a plane in her land and who she dragged into the shore. The breath she draws in wobbles and stutters, catches on her throat.
But she holds her posture, holds her face, her breath until it evens.
"Steve," Hippolyta says, and this time it's for Diana. She looks so gentle, so forgiving. "You may call me Hippolyta. I do not wish you continue to call me ma'am."
"Mother," Diana says, finding her voice. It holds a quiver. Steve- Roge- Captain notices and he looks worried. "May I bring him to the city? He needs to wash the sea from himself."
Hippolyta steps aside. Diana walks past her and Captain follows. The queen does not.
Diana's heart will not settle.
----
Steve Rogers is a dead man walking.
He remembers, vividly, every moment that brought him to this one, to this place. He remembers everything, how Red Skull's face contorted with fear, how Peggy's voice catched on her throat and how smooth the sail of the Valkyrie was. He crashed, into the unforgiving arms of the sea. He felt water, saw darkness. And yet.
He also remembers a figure of a woman, strong hands on his chest.
He is alive.
In a place called Themyscira, with a woman called Diana, who looks like a warrior and smiles like a mother.
He is alive.
He feels it in his bones, knows it in his heart, even when his mind struggles to realize this.
Steve walks with her, through lush undergrowth and beginnings of a city. It's the most beautiful place Steve has ever seen, surpasses even the pictures painted of Eden, God's garden.
He doesn't want to leave.
(He needs to see Peggy)
They pass an area built open and sturdy. There are obstacles and higher positions, and even without the women performing in it, he would have recognized it as a training ground. Steve watches, with growing envy, as a dark skinned woman effortlessly wields dual swords in a dance of fluid motions, as another, taller but lither, evades the attacks of three without a weapon on her body.
Diana prowls forward without slowing, and Steve can only follow. As they walk, further and further into the city, where wildlife turns into stones and flowers used for decor, the sun starts setting.
Diana is greeted by many, with smiles and bows, and Steve is regarded with curiosity, amusement or distrust. Mostly it is a combination of the three, but no one calls out to him, no one tries to stop their process. He keeps two steps behind Diana, first time in years because he almost can't catch up. It's incredible, for someone to have a stride faster than him.
They stop in front of a building made of washed stone. Steve would call it a mansion.
"This is my home," Diana says as she walks inside. "And, for as long as you need it, your home, too."
Steve follows her, stops at the doorway and stares. It's gorgeous.
"Your rooms will be this way," Diana informs him, as she stands in front of a glassless window, one twice as board as Steve and only ten inches off the ground. Anyone could step inside from it, soundlessly like a cat.
He looks at Diana. She is smiling, her eyes twinkling with amusement and knowledge, as she waits for him.
"I can't-"
"You don't have to," she assures him, easily, "but please, spend the night here. Bathe yourself and eat and sleep for energy. If you wish to return to the war, I will take you there myself."
War. Steve glenches his teeth. He hopes it's over, that his sacrifice was enough.
"You know about the war?"
Diana smiles sadly. "I do. Our people don't engage with the Man's World, but I have been out there, I've seen the war myself. I... I escaped, here, to gather my wits."
Isolation. Fitting, Steve thought, for such a paradise. No war to kill your men, no plague to kill your children. No government to take your food and no other such problems that have haunted Steve's whole life.
"It's understandable," he answers.
Diana look again amused, hiding a layer of sadness.
"It was so easy to go, though," she says. "To the war."
It is. So easy.
"I know."
There's that look again, the one from the beach. It feels like she's looking directly into his soul, like she knows him better than he knows himself.
"I suppose you do."
Steve watches her watch him, as weariness settles on his bones. Even though he can go days without rest, he's also told the loss of adrenaline after near death situations can make him extremely tired. "It's the last sign you need to sleep," Peggy said, "if you were well rested you wouldn't have gotten nearly killed."
"Tomorrow, then?"
Diana smiles, nods. "Tomorrow."
----
Diana shows Steve to his room. The bedroom only is as big as his apartment, the bed larger and softer than he thought possible. Though scarce in furniture, the room gives him a feeling of wealth. His gaze stops on the flowers sat next to a window. They're a deep blue, almost violet.
"I have a fondness for flowers," Diana says from the doorway, "especially hyacinths."
Steve turns to look at her. She is smiling, the sad smile he's seen glimpses of. "It is said Apollo named the flower after his deceased lover, whom he killed in accident," she huffs through her nose, "my mother told me, that especially in blue, this flower means constancy."
"You've lost someone." Steve doesn't mean to blurt it out like that, but it's been pushing out of his mouth for a long while now, and finally it slips free.
"Haven't we all?" is Diana's less than bothered answer. Steve acknowledges this with a lowered head. He raises his eyes when he hears steps, Diana is leaving. Though she actually only takes five steps to the direction they didn't come from and looks back to him expectantly.
"You can bathe here," she says when he slides to a stop at her side. "I would offer for another, more aestetically pleasing spot, but I think you'll prefer your privacy."
The bathroom is as beautiful as the bedroom, nearly everything carved from light colored stone. The windows are smaller in there, for a good reason, Steve supposes, the windowstills lined with different kinds of stones and shells Diana has obviously found from the beach. Steve catches her looking at him, arms crossed and that amused twinkle in her eye. It takes him a while to realize she is expecting him to take a bath now.
"There are soaps for you to use if you wish to," she says when Steve steps inside. "The water is also clean, but drain it after you've finished."
She leaves Steve alone with lavender scented shampoos and blue shells that glint in the slowly setting sun's light.
----
"There are no men here," is the first thing from the Captain's lips as he enters the living room, where Diana is gazing at the sunset.
"No," she says, "we have no need for men."
"There are also no children," he says next, settling to stand next to her. "Is it because you have no men?"
"I was sculpted from clay," Diana says even when it is not correct and she knows that now. It still feels nice, mischievous, to see the look on his face at her comment. Steve's nose scrunches up. Diana smiles.
"You are Captain America, are you not? I remember now, the suit."
He looks at her, disappointment and resignation in his eyes.
"I am," he admits nevetheless, "but I would like not to be, when the war ends."
Diana huffs a laugh, a bitter reaction towards a hope she knows to be useless. She does not comment, however. Steve can have his wishes.
"You must be hungry," she says, walks to her kitchen. Steve follows, sits where she gestures with little show. He's more relaxed now, less of a soldier and a captain and more a man tired of fighting.
"You should eat, too," he says after she's placed a plate in front of him. He does not seem to have an appetite, but he is polite enough to be willing to eat.
"I've already eaten. Do not worry yourself."
In truth, Diana does not have much of an appetite herself. The events of the past hours, the future that seems to be reminding her of her past, has ripped her of the will to eat. Steve looks at her, seems to be able to see past her deception, but he remains silent and starts tearing into the food with the fervor of a person who did not realize he was hungry.
Diana, with fondness she does not wish to feel, goes to seek larger clothes for him to wear. She can't imagine the suit will be comfortable to sleep in. She, also, seeks out her mother.
Hippolyta is alone, as she always seems to be at sunset, the missing form of Antiope at her side prominent.
"Mother."
Hippolyta turns, smiles sadly. She already knows what Diana is here to tell her.
"I will be leaving tomorrow."
"Yes, my child."
They speak no words after that, stand in the golden glow of the setting sun and paint the moment into their memories. The sky goes dark, blackness settles over their island as stars set alight. The moon is to their backs, giving them only a sky full of stars, a black sea and a sliver of silver.
"I wish you well," her mother says when she finally leaves to retire, and Diana hugs her fiercely. She is left alone.
----
When Diana travels back to her home, the streets are emptier and colder, but still no less welcoming. Steve stands by the windows that face the ocean, an impossibly sad look on his face for someone so young.
"You should sleep," Diana says, startling him out of his thoughts, whatever land of imagination he was visiting.
"I wasn't comfortable going to sleep knowing you were still out."
Diana smiles.
"I am here now, and you should sleep."
He listens easily, wanders into his appointed room. Diana's eyes fall on the sword mounted on her wall, and the shield above it. A picture comes to her mind, seen months ago on a newspaper.
It seems she will need to venture outside again.