"REPARATION"
by
Andra Marie Mueller
AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Reparation" is a very fluffy, very alternate universe story and takes place directly after the events in the Zack Snyder version of "Justice League". Some original dialogue from the film is contained herein for accuracy only. For my purposes, I have ignored the portion of the finale that was Lex Luthor's meeting with Deathstroke. Warner Bros. and DC Comics are the legal owners of all original canon characters. All other characters are my own creation.
"The story of a love is not important; what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity." – Helen Hayes
SMALLVILLE, KANSAS
Home sweet home.
The familiar adage passe through Clark Kent's mind as he watched the movers continue the process of returning Martha's furniture to its rightful place inside of her house. After helping his new allies vanquish Steppenwolf, Clark was now looking forward to spending a couple days of quality time with his mother and Lois on the family farm. At Martha's insistence, Bruce Wayne was also present, and would be staying through the evening to share the special dinner Martha had planned to celebrate her son's return.
After assisting the movers with one of the larger pieces of furniture, Clark wandered over to where Bruce was standing beside the moving truck watching the goings on.
"Thank you is not enough for what you've done," he replied.
"Just undid a mistake that's all," Bruce evaded.
Clark glanced over his shoulder to see Martha and Lois chatting as they carried some smaller items into the house and the trio exchanged smiles before he returned his attention to the man next to him.
"How did you get the house back from the bank?" Clark asked.
A beat. "I bought the bank," Bruce said sheepishly.
"The whole bank?"
"It's kind of a reflex with me."
Clark shook his head and they started for the house. Martha came outside then and approached them just as an unfamiliar car pulled in behind the moving van.
"Are you expecting someone, Mom?" Clark asked.
"She's your welcome home present," Martha answered with a smile.
Clark glanced at his mother. "'She'?" he echoed. "It's Jordan?"
Martha's smile widened. "Surprise."
"I take it this Jordan woman is a friend?" Bruce prompted.
"She's my sister," Clark clarified and started toward the car.
"I didn't know Clark has a sister," Bruce remarked. "Why wasn't she at his funeral?"
"That's my fault, I'm afraid," Martha admitted. "Jordan was working overseas at the time and I was so distraught over losing Clark I couldn't remember how to reach her. By the time I did and she was able to get home, we had already laid Clark to rest."
Bruce nodded in acknowledgement just as a sudden thought occurred to him, and he gave Martha a sideways glance. "She's not…you know, like him…is she?"
Martha chuckled and shook her head. "The only thing extraordinary about Jordan is her temper," she said dryly.
Unaware they were the topic of conversation between their mother and Bruce, the siblings exchanged a warm embrace, clinging to one another for a few minutes before pulling apart just long enough to look each other over.
"For someone who's been dead for the last year you don't look half bad," Jordan teased.
"Thank you, I think," Clark replied.
"So, Big Brother, what do you want to me to rake you over the coals for first?" she asked rhetorically. "The fact that your spitting contest with Batman distracted you long enough for Luthor's goons to kidnap Mom? Or your decision to sacrifice yourself for humanity?"
Clark sighed. "I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to find you and tell you what was going on. We've always been able to talk with each other about anything, even the things we can't share with Mom. That constant emotional support has been my rock for some of my darkest days. I was afraid of damaging that, or losing it, if you felt I was abandoning you and Mom, or even humanity."
"That is never going to happen," Jordan responded. "You're my brother and I love you. There isn't anything you could say or do that would change that. And as for humanity, quite frankly the people of this planet don't deserve you. After the explosion at the US Capitol, everybody suddenly forgot about all the good you've done and practically cursed your name for not being the flawless hero they expected you to be. They'd been taking advantage of you for so long that they'd forgotten how to fend for themselves."
"I have to take some of the blame for that, especially because I have a responsibility…" Clark began, but Jordan cut him off in mid-sentence.
"You have a responsibility to yourself, too. Even Superman's allowed to have a life, and to make mistakes. It's called being Human."
A pause. "But I'm not Human," came the quiet reply.
And there's the rub, Jordan thought poignantly, and reached over to place a comforting hand on his arm. "Being Human means having a soul, Clark. Everything else is just window dressing. You may be different on the surface, but underneath you're just like the rest of us: you laugh, and cry, and love. And you have the biggest heart I've ever known."
"Back at you, Little Sister. And I love you, too."
They exchanged another hug before linking arms and heading towards Martha and Bruce. As they drew closer, Bruce got a better view of Jordan. She was dressed in a charcoal gray turtleneck and black slacks with a matching leather jacket, and his heart skipped a beat at the sudden, powerful surge of adrenaline and attraction he felt at the sight of her. She was unquestionably the most elegantly sensual woman he had ever seen. Medium tall and very shapely, she appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with dark blonde hair, lightly tanned skin and cobalt blue eyes that accentuated the sheer perfection of her face.
Bruce was far too experienced - and cynical - to believe in the notion of love at first sight. Yet there was no denying that something drew him to her, an intangible emotion that was neither love nor lust but a combination of the two that surprised and intrigued him.
Something tells me I'm in for a hell of a ride, he mused silently.
Feeling the power of Bruce's gaze, Jordan glanced in his direction and felt a rush of awareness go through her as their eyes met. She felt the connection between them immediately, a mixture of sexual attraction and emotional intimacy that sent a shiver down her spine. It was as if an invisible cord had attached itself to her and was pulling her toward him, leaving her with the oddest sensation that after today, her life would never be the same.
Jordan, my dear, you are in Trouble with a capital 'T', she thought to herself.
Clark quickly made the official introductions. "Bruce, this is my sister, Jordan. Jordan, Bruce Wayne."
"The infamous Bruce Wayne," Jordan said, then suddenly lifted her right arm and landed a solid punch on Bruce's lower jaw, knocking him backward a couple of steps. "That's payback for attempting to kill my brother, you son of a bitch!"
"Jordan!" Martha exclaimed. "What's the matter with you?"
"I should have broken his damn nose!" Jessica retorted. "He tried to kill Clark, Mom. Am I supposed to pretend I'm okay with that?"
"He's also the reason I'm standing here now," Clark countered, stepping in front of her to ensure she would not take another shot at his friend. "And I wouldn't have been able to save Mom from Luthor's henchmen if he hadn't helped rescue her."
"She never would have been kidnapped if Batman hadn't decided to dispense his own brand of cowboy justice and try to kill Superman!" came Jordan's fiery retort.
"Jordan, that's enough!" Martha interjected. "I know you're upset about what happened between Clark and Bruce in Metropolis, honey, but he's more than made up for that. He helped bring Clark back to us, and he negotiated with the bank to get the farm back."
Jordan shot Bruce a knowing look. "Have you apologized?" she demanded. "I'll concede my mother's point on what you have done to atone for your error in judgement, but have you looked Clark in the face and actually said the words 'I'm sorry'?"
"Jordan…" Martha began, but Bruce gently cut her off.
"No, Martha, she's right." He glanced at Clark. "I do owe you a formal apology. I was wrong to assume you were a threat and try to take justice into my own hands. My pride led to your death and almost your mother's. I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted," Clark responded and they exchanged a handshake before Clark returned his attention to his sister.
"Happy now?" he prompted.
"Ecstatic," she replied with thinly veiled sarcasm and shifted her attention to Bruce, offering him her first genuine smile. "This time the apology owed is mine, Mister Wayne. I'm sorry."
"Please call me Bruce," he requested. "Given my history with Clark you and I are practically friends by osmosis."
Jordan chuckled. "In that case, I guess that means you should call me Jordan," she responded,
She extended her hand, which Bruce took in his, and the surge of attraction that flared between them at the physical contact was nearly tangible. They exchanged a surprised look at their reactions, maintaining their hold on each other's hands for almost a full minute before finally letting go.
At his sister's side, Clark was not oblivious to the current that passed between them either, and his face creased into a small frown.
I don't know if I should be worried about this or not, he mused silently.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bruce," Jordan said after a beat. "I sincerely appreciate your assistance with bringing my family back together again."
"Glad to be of service, Jordan."
"Now that we've dispensed with the formalities, let's help the movers finish getting Mom settled back in," Clark suggested.
"Lead the way, Big Brother," Jordan replied.
The siblings headed for the house and Martha cast Bruce a sympathetic glance. "I'm so sorry Jordan hit you," she said. "God love her, but my daughter can be a bit much to deal with."
"It's alright, Martha," Bruce assured her, then lifted his hand to rub his jaw where Jordan had struck him. "But I have to admit her right hook can certainly give Clark's a run for the money."
"Come inside and I'll make you an ice pack to keep the swelling down."
They exchanged a smile and Bruce trailed a step behind Martha as she followed her children inside.
That evening, Clark's family and friends had enjoyed a hearty meal of meatloaf and homegrown vegetables, followed by a round of hot chocolate and large slices of Martha's homemade apple pie. Now seated across from one another on the couches in the living room, their conversation included general small talk - ranging from high school horror stories to sports to politics - as well as a few good-natured arguments on the same subjects. Eventually Jordan excused herself to finish cleaning up the kitchen. Lois offered to help, and once they were alone, seized the opportunity to address the obvious.
"Let me know if you decide to take another swing at Bruce," she said lightly. "It would make quite the story for the Planet."
"It would be much ado about nothing, Lois," Jordan said.
"Are you kidding? I can even see the headline: 'Superman's Sister Cleans the Dark Knight's Clock'."
"I'm glad you found it so amusing," Jordan replied wryly. "However, I don't know who was more mortified, Clark or our mother."
"I have to say I was surprised. I've never seen you that angry."
"I've always been a little overzealous when it comes to protecting people I care about," Jordan allowed.
"It's more than that," Lois countered. "I was watching you two all day and there were definite sparks."
"I think you're seeing what you want to see because you want everyone to be as happy as you and Clark are," Jordan chided.
"Maybe I am, but I think you should take some time to consider what it is about Bruce Wayne that rattles your cage so much. He's not the first man to show an interest in you, and normally you treat them with polite indifference. Yet Bruce seems to have sparked a fuse in you that no one else has. There's something to that."
A beat. "I won't deny that I'm drawn to him," the other woman relented, "but I can't just jump into a relationship with someone I barely know."
"I said almost the same thing to your brother nearly four years ago," Lois told her.
Jordan afforded her future sister-in-law a sideways glance. "I wasn't aware you subscribed to the notion of 'love at first sight'."
"I didn't," Lois allowed, "until I met Clark. He always says that he knew we were meant to be together from the moment we met, and he was right."
"He usually is."
"Of course, it helps that Bruce is also tall, dark and handsome," Lois added innocently.
Jordan smiled again. "You noticed that, did you?"
"I would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice," Lois quipped. "Bruce is a good guy, Jordan. Just be honest with him about how you feel and the two of you can go from there."
Unaware he was the topic of conversation in the kitchen, out in the living room, Bruce posed a question to Martha, who had assumed Lois' place on the couch next to her son.
"How long after you found Clark did you adopt Jordan?"
"It was actually only a couple of months," Martha answered. "We came home from church on a Sunday afternoon and found a large basket on the front porch. There was something in it that was obviously moving, so Jonathan picked up the basket and found a baby girl inside wrapped in a pink blanket. I don't think Jordan was more than a couple weeks old, and she just made a little gurgling sound as stared up at Jonathan with those big blue eyes. Then she smiled, and we were in love."
Bruce smiled at the image. I know the feeling, he thought wryly. Aloud he asked, "Was there any note in the basket with her?"
"No note and no fingerprints on the basket or the blanket," Clark interjected. "Mom and Dad contacted the sheriff and they all spent several months trying to determine who had left them the basket, but they never found anything. So, after the investigation was closed my folks went to the local courthouse to file the adoption paperwork and Jordan officially became my sister."
"Has Jordan herself ever tried to find out where she came from?" Bruce questioned.
"Just once, several years ago. Shortly after she turned 18, she asked me to help her try and track down her biological parents. We spent a little over a year searching but nothing ever came of it."
"And Jordan was okay with that?"
Clark smiled. "The day we decided to stop the search, I asked her almost the same thing, and I can still remember her response. She looked at me with a small smile and said, 'Clark, knowing where I came from isn't as important as accepting and embracing where I am now.' That's the last time we ever really discussed it."
"Well on that note, I'm going to call it a night," Martha announced, and got her feet. Bruce and Clark stood as well and Martha cupped her son's face in her hands. "It's wonderful to have you home, honey. Say good-night to the girls for me and I'll see you in the morning."
"Sweet dreams, Mom," Clark responded, and they exchanged a hug before Martha turned to face Bruce. "There are no words to tell you how much I owe you for bringing my son back to me," she said with a warm smile. "That's a debt I can never repay."
"I'm happy I was able help," Bruce deflected.
Martha granted Bruce a brief hug before bidding the men good-night and leaving the men alone.
"I think she likes you," Clark remarked after his mother was out of earshot.
"I like her, too," Bruce responded.
The conversation was interrupted by the ring of Bruce's cell phone.
"Go ahead and answer that," Clark said. "I'm going to see what Lois and Jordan are up to in the kitchen."
Clark headed into the kitchen and gave the women a warm smile. "Everything okay in here?" he prompted.
"Right as rain," Jordan assured him. "If you two will excuse me for a few minutes, I've got to check in with my boss and see what the status is on the C.I.T.E.S. summit."
Jordan exited the kitchen and Lois waited until she was out of earshot before addressing Clark.
"So, what's your take on the fireworks between your sister and Bruce?" she prompted.
"Not you too," Clark moaned.
"Me too, what?"
"Mom pulled me aside earlier and told me she thought Bruce and Jordan made a cute couple."
"Obviously she's seeing the same the same thing I am. Aren't you?""
"Of course I'm seeing it," Clark admitted. "The temperature jumped about 20 degrees when I introduced them this afternoon and it almost required a surgical procedure to separate them when they shook hands."
"Jordan could do worse than a guy like Bruce Wayne, Clark," Lois said pointedly. "He's intelligent, charming, easy on the eyes and has a bank account with more zeros than the National Debt."
"He also changes women more often than he changes his socks," Clark retorted.
"I'm pretty sure Jordan can handle him."
Meanwhile in the living room, Bruce had retrieved his phone from his coat pocket and stepped out onto the back porch to talk privately.
"Yes, Alfred?"
"I gathered the information you requested on Jordan Kent, Master Wayne," Alfred told him. "I'm emailing a summary of it to you as we speak."
"Anything I should pay particular attention to?" Bruce queried.
"Only the lady herself," Alfred deadpanned. "If I may be so bold as to ask, why the interest in Dr. Kent? Aside from the obvious, of course."
"If I knew, Alfred, I'd be happy to tell you. At this point all I know is that in the space of about two minutes, she affected me like no one else ever has."
"Indeed. Well, in my experience there are two ways to handle this type of situation."
Bruce smiled. "Which are?" he prompted.
"Your first choice – and perhaps the easiest one - would be to ignore her," Alfred told him.
"And my second choice?"
"Your second choice – and perhaps the wisest – would be to marry her."
"I'll take that under advisement. Good night, Alfred."
"Good night, sir."
Shaking his head in amusement, Bruce ended the call and opened the email from Alfred.
Jordan Danielle Kent, Ph.D. Born April 1986, exact day and place unknown. Adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent of Smallville, Kansas on July 4, 1986. Single (never married); no children. Pursuant to her Washington, D.C. driver's license her vital statistics are:
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130 pds
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Scholastic prodigy. Graduated Valedictorian of Smallville High School in June 2002. Obtained her Doctoral Degree in Ecology and Evolutionary Biology from Princeton University in the Fall of 2006. Shortly after obtaining her degree, she joined the international non-profit organization Protecting Endangered Animals thru Conservation Enforcement (PEACE). Currently serves as their Chief Risk Officer/Senior Researcher and is a member of their Board of Directors. She is scheduled to attend the forthcoming C.I.T.E.S. summit as the keynote speaker for the PEACE delegation.
"Well, there's no current or ex-husband to contend with," Bruce murmured aloud. "That's a plus."
"Talking to yourself is considered a sign of insanity in some circles, Bruce," Jordan chided.
Bruce glanced over to see Jordan standing a few feet away. "Is that your roundabout way of saying that I'm out of my mind?" he asked dryly.
"I'm saying that spending one's leisure time dressed as a giant flying mammal while tracking down criminals isn't at the top of the 'Things Sane People Do' List," Jordan teased.
"This from a woman who spends her leisure time traveling the four corners of the earth to track down potentially dangerous wild animals," Bruce countered lightly.
"I'd rather deal with dangerous animals wearing fur coats than three-piece suits," Jordan responded. "No offense."
"None taken."
"I really am sorry about hitting you this afternoon. My father always told me that I need to use my brain to win fights, not my fists."
"Sage advice." A beat. "And less painful for your opponent."
Jordan chuckled just as Clark poked his head outside and flashed them an apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt," he said and glanced at Jordan. "Pete Ross just called and told me that Mom forgot to pick up Dusty from his folks' house earlier."
"And you want me to go get him so you can have some private time with Lois," Jordan surmised.
"Yes, please."
"Alright. Let me grab a coat."
"Who's Dusty?" Bruce asked.
"He's our mom's dog," Clark answered. "After she lost the house, she gave him to some family friends to look after."
Jordan returned a few moments later returned wearing a fleece lined jacket and holding her cell phone. "I'll text you once I've retrieved him and am almost home," she said to Clark. "That way I won't accidentally interrupt anything when I get back."
"Thanks, Jordan. Walk slow."
"The snails will outpace me by miles, Big Brother," Jordan quipped.
They exchanged a smile before Clark retreated back into the house.
"Do you mind if I tag along?" Bruce requested.
"Don't you need to get home and change into something lined with body armor?" Jordan asked pointedly.
Bruce smiled at her not-so-subtle reference to his Batman attire as well as her obvious attempt to get rid of him. "I'm giving myself the night off," he replied.
"Fine. The Ross' house is only about a mile down the road."
They walked in companionable silence for a little while, with Jordan stargazing as they strolled, and Bruce took advantage of her distraction to observe her unhindered. Now dressed in a flannel shirt and denim jeans, she wore no make-up and her only jewelry consisted of a Swiss Army watch and a small gold chain around her neck bearing a diamond pendant, A1.
She is exquisite, he thought in appreciative silence.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Jordan glanced over to discover Bruce watching her, and flashed him an indulgent smile. "Enjoying the view?" she prompted lightly.
"It's beautiful country out here," Bruce deflected.
"Yes, it is," Jordan agreed. "I suffer from claustrophobia, so anytime I can be outside in wide open spaces is good thing."
Bruce gestured at her necklace. "That's a lovely pendant," he said. "What does 'A1' stand for?"
"It's an acronym for the PEACE corporate slogan," Jordan explained. "Animals first."
"As long as we're on the subject, how did a pretty little farm girl from Kansas wind up with a Princeton degree at the tender age of 20 and a starring role at the C.I.T.E.S. summit as a leading researcher for endangered species?"
"The Cliff Notes version is that I was a brainy little bookworm with a passion for animals, so as I grew up, I found a way to combine the two."
"Compassion and intelligence are very admirable qualities," Bruce replied. "It just so happens I possess an abundance of both."
Jordan chuckled. "Not to mention your great humility," she retorted.
"That too."
"You've been doing your homework," she remarked after a beat.
"Information is a powerful tool, Princess, and after that right hook you planted on me earlier today, I decided I should find out exactly who I'm dealing with."
Jordan stopped in her tracks and placed a hand on his arm, causing him to stop as well and meet her inquiring look.
"What's wrong?"
"Where did 'Princess' come from?" she asked, her faint smile indicating she was amused rather than offended or upset.
Bruce shrugged. "With your looks and your attitude, it seems to suit you."
"Un-huh…well then, two can play that game, Cowboy."
"Ah...that would be a subtle dig at the 'cowboy justice' you were railing about earlier. Clever."
"Just for the record, I like it much better when you're sincere. Charm and innuendo have their place, but for me honesty is the most appealing trait."
"Then honestly tell me that you don't feel the same thing I do," Bruce declared suddenly. "That mysterious spark that flares to life every time we touch."
Jordan's smile faded. "Bruce…don't do this."
Ignoring the warning, Bruce lifted his hands to gently cup her face in his palms and lowered his head to kiss her. It was a warm, lingering kiss that did not end so much as gently fade away. Yet the moment they touched, Jordan experienced an overwhelming affinity, more powerful than anything she'd ever felt before. And from the expression that flickered across his handsome face as he pulled back, Bruce obviously felt it too.
"I felt something similar to this when we made eye contact and then shook hands this afternoon," he said softly, "but I didn't realize how strong it was."
"Sexual attraction doesn't have to be acted upon."
"There's more to this than just sexual attraction, Princess; we both know it. I've known you less than a day, yet I feel more connected to you than anyone I've ever met. I want to explore that."
"I don't have the time or inclination for a casual affair, Bruce."
"There's nothing casual about what I feel for you," Bruce responded solemnly. "I care about you, Jordan. I know it's sudden and it is certainly unexpected. But it's real."
As Jordan struggled with her thoughts, Bruce watched the play of emotions across her refined features, unconsciously holding his breath as he awaited her response.
Please tell me you're with me on this, Jordan, he pleaded silently.
After a moment came a soft admission. "I'm scared."
"Of me?"
"Yes. This is all happening so fast."
"Then we'll take this at whatever pace makes you comfortable," Bruce assured her. "What we feel for each other is a rare gift, Jordan. Please don't let fear take that away."
"Will you give me your word that we can slow this down a few paces?"
"Absolutely."
"Cross your heart?" Jordan prompted.
Bruce smiled and freed one hand to mime the gesture. "Cross my heart."
The change in Jordan was immediate, and Bruce could see the tension visibly drain from her posture. "Thank you," she said simply.
"You're very welcome."
Bruce extended his hand and Jordan took it is his as they resumed their walk.
P.E.A.C.E. HEADQUARTERS - WASHINGTON D.C.
Seated behind his large mahogany desk, CEO Mark Ross was reviewing the field reports from various PEACE research groups across the globe when his cell phone rang. Setting the papers aside, he reached over to pick it up.
"Mark Ross."
"We've got a problem," a male voice declared without preamble.
The caller was Lex Luthor, Ross' literal partner in crime. Following Luthor's arrest for his part in the attempted murders of Superman and Martha Kent, he had escaped incarceration after large deposits were made to the bank of accounts of certain law enforcement officials and he now oversaw his business dealings from aboard his private yacht somewhere at sea.
"What kind of problem?"
"The same problem we failed to resolve three months ago after she uncovered part of our business dealings in Africa," Luthor replied. "We're looking at a million dollars of lost revenue for that little snafu."
"Are you talking about Jordan?"
"Yes. My sources indicate the lovely Dr. Kent is still snooping around in our affairs hoping to connect our smuggling operations to wildlife traffickers. I'm sure she would love to give her brother an exclusive on that for his latest story."
"Clark Kent is dead."
"On the contrary, according to today's edition of The Daily Planet he is very much alive. Apparently rumors of Kent's death were 'greatly exaggerated' and he's expected back at work in a couple of days.
So, if Jordan Kent finds what's she's looking for, the first person she'll share that information with is her brother. And if Superman gets involved, we're both going down."
"I'm not seeing the connection," Ross said.
"Don't be dense, Ross!" Luthor snapped. "Clark Kent is Superman!"
A beat. "Well, that explains a lot. What do you want to do?"
"I'm not going to risk my freedom – or my life – by taking another shot at Superman, especially now that he has formed some quasi-justice league with his new 'super friends' Batman and Wonder Woman. Our only option is to rid ourselves of Jordan Kent. Permanently."
"I'll see to it myself."
"Good. I'll be in touch."
There was a faint click and the line went dead.