DAYS after the death of her brother, Jessica had not left her mother's house.
It didn't matter if the world was on fire, she did not leave under any circumstances. The only time she left the house was to attend the world funeral the military held.
She remembered all of their faces, how they cried as if they knew Clark all their lives. She saw familiar faces; faces they've saved over the years. They were mourning the loss of a great hero as well and a part of Jessica felt touched. Touched that her brother impacted the lives of so many.
"FIRE!" The ranking officer ordered the soldiers, who was in operation of the cannon, to pull back on the lever. Jessica walked the rainy street of Metropolis with a limp that day, her suit not present on her body. What she wore was a regular black knee length dress with the S emblem drawn on in white.
Her mother, Martha, tried to get her to show her condolences for an empty casket in her old suit but that proved pointless when Jessica threw it in the trash. Jessica stood in front of the soldier with dull eyes, her wet hair, from the rain, sticking to her face.
He completed an about face to grab the finished triangle folded flag and did another about face to complete it. He held his hands out for Jessica to grab the flag but she stared at his name tag, reading the words, Jordan, over and over again. "Hold out your hands, ma'am." The soldier whispered, breaking his stoic look to look at her with sympathetic eyes.
"My apologies." She mumbled, holding her hands out.
"I'm sorry for your loss." He whispered, placing the flag in her palms and saluting her. "He's a true hero."
Jessica brought her hand up to salute him back. "He was." When she released her salute, Jessica pulled the flag to her heart. Unmoving, she stared off ahead again.
A shadow of an umbrella shrouded over her, stopping the rain from pelting over her. General Calvin Swatenick placed his hand on Jessica's shoulder. "Come on Superwoman, Major Farris will show you to the car."
Jessica sucked in a deep breath and looked up to the general, her blue eyes glossed over. "You're burying an empty casket..." She mumbled. "How does that make sense to any of you?"
"He deserves something for the public to see."
"The public didn't deserve him." She grumbled.
"He was a fine soldier." Swatenick spoke. "This is all we know how to remember him by. As a soldier."
Jessica clenched her fists angrily around the flag, nails digging into the palms of her skin. The tender flesh broke on impact, blood dripping down her arms. "He wasn't a soldier; he was my brother." She hissed, not looking at the General. "Saving the people of the world was his choice, not his obligation like we thought it was."
"And we are thankful we had him, have you."
"Most of the people on this planet didn't want us around." She snipped. "They made posters and protested that they wanted us to leave, that they didn't need us. But when it comes down to their lives being at risk, they want us to fight their wars, save their families and we did it because we wanted your approval." Jessica scoffed. "You humans didn't deserve us." She shook her head. "You never did."
The General watched Jessica's labored breathing with furrowed brows. He turned her to face the crowd who were standing there with umbrellas and crying into each other's shoulders. "You can't categorize the bad with the good, there are a lot of good people who wanted you and your brother." He explained. "You two touched the lives of so many people and changed the world as we know it. For the better."
Jessica took note of all of their faces before scoffing. "Yeah, and look where that got him. In an empty box."
_____________
NOW, she sat bundled up at her nook while staring out the window of her childhood home, something she did often while she contemplated life when she was a teen.
The black dress she wore was wrinkled, her face was paler than normal, the bags under her eyes were darker, her hair was up in a neat bun, and her knees closer to her chest. It was a difficult task to just do things she normally did every day. Like smile.
Not only was her brother dead but to top it off, she had no use of her powers anymore. She always wanted to be normal but... not without her brother. A knock at her door alerted her of someone's presence, she didn't want to talk to anyone.
Sheilah walked through the door, her black hair up in two moon buns, her rosary around her neck. "Jess?" She called out. When she stepped into the room, she saw Jessica. "Hey, I wanted to check on you before the service." Jessica never looked at Sheilah from her spot at the window. Her once swollen eye was healing, coming to a nasty yellow and purple color.
Sheilah scratched the back of her neck. "Before Clark, um, passed. He asked me to tell you something before he died." Jessica turned her head to Sheilah, suddenly interested in what she had to say. "He thought it would be more meaningful to you as a letter." She said, handing Jessica a folded piece of line paper.
Jessica grabbed the letter from her hand cautiously. Although it wasn't by Clark, his dying words were for her. She needed to hear them. "I'll see you downstairs." With that, Sheilah left Jessica's childhood room with no other words.
Jessica turned to the piece of paper with a deep sigh. Unraveling it, she read the words on the paper.
Jess,
I know what's happening to you is terrifying. Never being able to live without you scares me as well. But, you're not just anyone. Dad use to say: "One day, you're going to have to make a choice. You have to decide what kind of man, or woman, you want or have to be. Whoever that man, or lady, is, good character or bad, it's going to change the world."
I know I wasn't the best brother the past few months but everything I did, I did to protect you. There were things I dealt with that would have triggered that awful memory and I didn't want to see you lose yourself... not again.
I once thought I could protect the world by myself, but I was wrong. Working together, we saved lives, the planet. That's why God made us twins, because he knew only one of us was too much personality for just one person. We are the worst and best of each other.
You'll be different, sometimes you'll feel like an outcast, but you'll never be alone. You have new people to call friends, new allies to call family. Just don't close yourself off before you get the chance.
Don't let my death be the reason you don't know who you are, because no matter where you go in life, there's always going to be one person that wants to bring you down. Stay strong and face your problems instead of running away. You've always been better at facing problems head on than me.
Be happy, be loved, be you.
Love,
Clark
She wiped away the tears from her cheeks, a couple falling onto the letter. She could tell it was Sheilah's handwriting but Clark's words. He was always better at expressing himself in handwritten words than with his mouth. "Why did you have to go and die?" Jessica asked to the air, her tears never stopping.
There was one thing Clark was wrong about, how would she ever find herself without him there? Everything that she was, it was because of him. Her happiness, her name, her powers, her, was because of Clark.
When she thought she would be better off without him, she was so wrong. She held the paper closer to her chest and looked back out her window.
_______________
DOWNSTAIRS, Bruce had walked into the Kent farm, giving his condolences to Martha, the grieving mother at the loss of her eldest child.
"Mrs. Kent, I'm Bruce Wayne, I'm a friend of your kids." He introduced, holding his hand out for her to shake. "I'm sorry by the loss of your son."
Martha, clearly remembering those words from the caped crusader who saved her from being burned alive, hugged the tall man. "Thank you for showing up." She sniffled as Bruce's stiff figure relaxed. He rubbed the tiny woman's back with as much sympathy he could muster.
"It's the least I could do." Martha removed herself from Bruce while rubbing her nose with her tissue.
"Jessica is upstairs, third door on the right." She paused. "If that is if you wish to see her." Bruce shook his head.
"No, it's not that I don't want to see her." He looked towards the stairs. "I'm not sure she wants to see me."
Martha patted his arm with a small smile. "She could use the company."
Bruce raised a brow. "That bad?"
"She hasn't eaten, hasn't left the house since she came back from the public funeral." Martha sighed, wiping her eyes. "I don't know what to do. I've never seen her like this since her father died but... this is worse. Their bond was something I've never seen before." She mumbled.
Bruce placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'll talk to her. Don't worry." Slowly turned towards the stairs, climbing up the creaky stairs of the old Kent house that's been in the family for generations. He walked all the way down to the third door on the right. He sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
After a couple of seconds of no answer, Bruce opened the old wood door. He winced slightly at the creaking. It must have been impossible for her to sneak out to the bathroom, let alone a party.
Jessica remained unmoved from her daydreamer state. "Jess?" He asked gently, walking into the room. She finally turned her attention lazily to her once lover but found no interest in smiling or showing any type of emotion, except for emptiness. Bruce held back the urge to wince at her stone-cold eyes but straightened up. "Your mother told me you were up here." He stated, closing the door behind him. Jessica turned her head back out the window and watched the many people walk into the house. They looked like little ants to her, did they really care for her brother as she did? Bruce looked around her room with a small smile. He touched the solar system that dangled over her bed.
When Bruce was met with silence again, he let out a sigh. "May I sit with you?" He asked, walking a little closer to the nook.
Jessica's legs remained pulled to her chest, the pearl earrings Clark got her for her sixth birthday resting comfortably in her ear lobes. Bruce rested his hand on her knee gently, he was hoping for a reaction but didn't get one. "Your mother told me that you weren't eating." He said looking straight at her face, his features softening just for her. Nothing. "Jessica... no one can help you if you don't say anything." Bruce sighed, rubbing his finger over the fabric of the dress that separated his warm hand from her cold skin.
"The last words I ever said to him was that I hated him." She mumbled, still not looking at him. "I mean, that makes me the monster. Me. Not Doomsday." She spat at her reflection, her crystal blue eyes watering. She couldn't help but feel like the monster, maybe she was. Maybe she was to truly be a monster.
"No, that doesn't...-"
"I should have been the one to kill that thing, I should have died, he should be the one here." She sniffed, squeezing her hands together; her nails digging into her palms. The sharp pain from the breaking of skin made her feel slightly better.
"Don't say that." Bruce sighed, grabbing her hand but Jessica snatched it away.
She opened her palms to show Bruce the damage she's inflicted on herself. "This... this has never happened before." She shoved her hands closer to his face. "This," she pointed to her face. "This!" She pointed to the cast she wore under clothes that were holding her ribs in place. "You see?" She hissed with narrowed puffy eyes. Bruce watched her emotional breakdown, it pained him to see her this way. "This is your fault."
"Jessica, I-I don't know how this happened," He defended. "The gas was only supposed to weaken Kryptonian cells."
"If it weren't for your stupid arrogance towards my brother and me, we could have saved my mother sooner and stopped Lex from releasing that monster. Not only did you try to kill me, but you also made a weapon that could kill us. I could have saved him if it weren't for you! You should be the one six feet under. You." Jessica raged, jabbing her finger into the billionaire's chest.
"I understand, I screwed up! I was only trying to help!" Bruce argued.
Jessica gave a pitiful laugh. "Oh yes, coming from the man who lost both of his parents and prowls around a failing city for what?" She asked. "Closure?" She finished with narrowed eyes. Bruce opened his mouth to say something, to defend himself but couldn't find anything to say. "Exactly. So, thanks a lot, you've been a real fucking help." She spat with her voice cracking. Bruce watched her leave her spot from her nook and towards the door. She tightly gripped the door, looking at Bruce. "Nobody cares about Batman; nobody cares about you."
Bruce flinched at the loud slam of the door; this was worse than he thought.
Not only did it hurt seeing her like this, but her words of hate were also like a slap to the face. He ran his hand over his mouth and kept it there in thought. She was too far gone into her emotional shell.
She was the same as him when he lost his parents, but Bruce could only relate so far in the loss department. He's never had a twin nor could he relate to an alien sibling bond. He didn't know they would be connected as far as their powers.
Bruce looked around her room, this was the room of a once bright and lively girl who loved anyone no matter their flaw. From the many band posters on her walls and the scattered books all over her bookcase.
Bruce vowed to himself that he would change this because right now, he truly believed that this whole thing was his fault.
______________
JESSICA loomed over her brother's casket with a heavy heart, her hand resting on his cold pale ones.
The picture of Jonathan resting in between his sasquatch hands, that's what she called them. Jessica hadn't noticed that they had closed his wooden coffin and carried it out of the house.
Martha placed one hand onto Jessica's upper back and her other on her arm. "Come on baby, it's time to go."
"I don't want to..." Jessica whispered with a tear trailing down her cheek. "That means he's gone... like dad." Martha instantly wiped the tear away then cupped Jessica's chin.
"It'll get easier from here my love, now come on." Martha spoke gently. Lois grabbed a hold of Martha's other arm. The three made their way out of the house and onto the journey to the cemetery with many people following behind them.
The Scottish bagpipes beautifully played Amazing Grace as the piper marched up the hill to the cemetery, leading everyone to Clark's final resting place.
The entire way, Jessica just remembered her father's funeral, how Clark reassured her and her mother that everything was going to be okay and was their rock for everything.
Jessica couldn't even be her rock for her mother during her time of need and it absolutely destroyed her on the inside. Just another thing to add on Jessica's things of cants.
The cart came to stop to allow the men to lift Clark's casket off of the wagon and into the dune of the ground.
Up behind the trees, Bruce and Diana watched quietly. The two stood in comfortable silence, watching the service. It was beautiful, to say the least, it was heartbreaking that this could have been avoided if he wasn't such a stubborn man.
That this could have been Jessica's funeral if Lois wasn't there to stop Bruce from putting that spear through her chest. Bruce sucked in a deep breath, mostly looking at Jessica's empty face. "I failed them..."
"We all have faults," Diana mumbled with her hands in her coat pocket, the gloomy skies carrying in a cold gust of air. Almost as if they were weeping with everyone. "Even Clark."
"But this one's different..." Bruce mumbled. "Something bad is coming, something big, I can feel it."
"Well, what are you going to do?" She asked, looking at the brooding man.
"We need to make some..." He swallowed. "Some type of team." He answered, looking right back at her.
"As in?"
"For justice."
Diana smiled gently, placed her hand on his shoulder, and gave it a light squeeze before she walked towards her car. "Give me a call."
Bruce smiled the best he could before looking back to the ceremony ahead of him. His smile instantly faded when he saw Jessica being the last one at Clark's grave. He felt his throat tighten in sorrow for her, how she would be alone without Clark for the rest of her life.
Jessica looked down at her rosary for a moment, her hand tightening around the cross that hung at the bottom. Her entire being was being put into question, who was she truly without her brother? Why was an amazing man, a son, a brother, taken away? Why did God take him away from her? She scoffed in anger, tossing the necklace into the casket.
Everything she was once with Clark will be buried along with him. She grabbed some dirt and held onto it tightly, standing there for a good while. She wasn't ready to say goodbye, not to him. The workers watched her in sympathy, they would wait as long as she was ready to let go of that dirt.
Releasing the dirt, it pittered against the light oak wood casket. The last remaining part of her heart, gone. She stuffed her hands into her pocket and walked out of the gates to her home of happy, painful memories.