He had resigned himself to never knowing who he was.
The amnesia had never shaken over the past two years. He’d tried everything, from therapy to hypnosis to having his breath knocked out of him in a boxing ring, but nothing had budged. Not a single memory, not even a sliver of the man he was before the explosion had resurfaced.
There were objective facts from the people that had found him, from the people he now worked with. Steve Trevor was good with a gun, even if he had to be taught how to load an automatic pistol. Steve Trevor could learn quickly, and had to, considering he had also forgotten that it was the 21st century and that smartphones and the Internet were a thing. Steve Trevor was a dedicated and steadfast ally, and would have your back even when things got rough.
But it bothered him, ate at him night after night as he lay in bed trying to remember. It was as if a part of his mind had been locked away, and no matter what he tried, he could not regain access to it.
I just reached the episode about Clay’s tape (finally, it was Tape 9 in the book I swear not Tape 11) and I have to stop the binge watch now because I am so drained, I think I’ve cried a river of tears. Just like when I read the book, I’ve never felt so sorry for someone as when Clay finds out he’s only there because Hannah needed him to hear her story; she needed him to know why. It wrecks me every time.