2. Jane Doe
She didn't expect to see him. It was Gotham City, not Metropolis. She was unsafe in Kansas, so she came here. She was lost, and met Bruce. He had connections. She hoped that he could protect her in the way that Lex couldn't.
It was September. Four months almost to the day of her father's funeral. Three months and a week since her first birthday after her Daddy had passed.
He was her idol when she was growing up. Next to Miss Piggy, April O'Neil from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and of course, the local newscaster. She smiled, softly, fondly remembering the way her dad would laugh when she told him that she wanted to watch the news, no matter how gruesome the story was.
She missed him. More than she'd ever admit, and more than she could ever describe. He had been her life. Once, she would rush home after working long hours at the Torch, to make him supper and tell him that he was overworking himself and that supper was her responsibility. Now, she couldn't bear returning home and not having his smiling tired face looking up at her from his favourite chair. She was not returning to the place she had called home for five years. Not returning to Smallville. It held too many memories for her, seeing their home would make her cry. Seeing the plant would make her cry. There was only one place that she wouldn't be able to cry at: the Torch. Her dad had never been inside it, and therefore it held no memories of him.
She was living her happily oblivious life as Linnea Lennox for a month, she was just out of the hospital in, wherever it was the FBI took her. When they finally let her out, she was Jane Doe. They had no idea what her name was and called her Jane. Chloe was gone, she remembered, taking a deep breath. Lex had made her forget who she was now, and remember who she was then.
Lex. When she had seen him, she tried not to get him to look at her. He looked like shit. He looked like somebody had ran him through the dry cycle of a really big clothes dryer and left him in. His clothes were wrinkled, he had bags under his eyes, and even worse, he was drinking scotch again. His father must have really gotten to him.
She kept newspaper articles in a black binder. Ones of Lex's poisoning, Clark's first Daily Planet article, and obituaries of people she once knew. Chloe and Gabe Sullivan. Whenever she felt like Chloe was coming back, she re--read them, had a cry, and went to bed Linnea Lennox again. She did this every night, and she hated it.
She hated all of it. The brown hair. The new name. Knowing she'd never see her dad again, and looking at the scars from the explosion. They were tattoos, memories of what she didn't want too remember. What had taken her life away from her.
The explosion. The thought hung in the air like a thick fog. It whispered into her ears when she was trying to sleep. The sounds and smells will haunt her to her death. The sound of a scream choked in her throat. The smell of burning flesh.
The bright white lights of the emergency room, the smell of bleach following her down the hallway. They now follow her everywhere. It follows her down the isle of the grocery store when she buys her coffee. Extra dark roast. She could really use some of that coffee right about now.
She lay down on her hardwood floor. All the apartments in the building had oak floors, but nobody seemed to notice. She curled up into a little ball and thought about the life she used to have. The life she now wished was still in tact. She would wake up and it would all be back to normal. She was going to find a new meteor freak to investigate, everything would be back to normal.
No. She was Linnea Lennox now. Not Jane Doe, and definitely not Chloe Sullivan. She wished that she was Jane Doe again. Everything is so much simpler when you're on Morphine and Demerol.
She didn't expect to see him. It was Gotham City, not Metropolis. She was unsafe in Kansas, so she came here. She was lost, and met Bruce. He had connections. She hoped that he could protect her in the way that Lex couldn't.
It was September. Four months almost to the day of her father's funeral. Three months and a week since her first birthday after her Daddy had passed.
He was her idol when she was growing up. Next to Miss Piggy, April O'Neil from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and of course, the local newscaster. She smiled, softly, fondly remembering the way her dad would laugh when she told him that she wanted to watch the news, no matter how gruesome the story was.
She missed him. More than she'd ever admit, and more than she could ever describe. He had been her life. Once, she would rush home after working long hours at the Torch, to make him supper and tell him that he was overworking himself and that supper was her responsibility. Now, she couldn't bear returning home and not having his smiling tired face looking up at her from his favourite chair. She was not returning to the place she had called home for five years. Not returning to Smallville. It held too many memories for her, seeing their home would make her cry. Seeing the plant would make her cry. There was only one place that she wouldn't be able to cry at: the Torch. Her dad had never been inside it, and therefore it held no memories of him.
She was living her happily oblivious life as Linnea Lennox for a month, she was just out of the hospital in, wherever it was the FBI took her. When they finally let her out, she was Jane Doe. They had no idea what her name was and called her Jane. Chloe was gone, she remembered, taking a deep breath. Lex had made her forget who she was now, and remember who she was then.
Lex. When she had seen him, she tried not to get him to look at her. He looked like shit. He looked like somebody had ran him through the dry cycle of a really big clothes dryer and left him in. His clothes were wrinkled, he had bags under his eyes, and even worse, he was drinking scotch again. His father must have really gotten to him.
She kept newspaper articles in a black binder. Ones of Lex's poisoning, Clark's first Daily Planet article, and obituaries of people she once knew. Chloe and Gabe Sullivan. Whenever she felt like Chloe was coming back, she re--read them, had a cry, and went to bed Linnea Lennox again. She did this every night, and she hated it.
She hated all of it. The brown hair. The new name. Knowing she'd never see her dad again, and looking at the scars from the explosion. They were tattoos, memories of what she didn't want too remember. What had taken her life away from her.
The explosion. The thought hung in the air like a thick fog. It whispered into her ears when she was trying to sleep. The sounds and smells will haunt her to her death. The sound of a scream choked in her throat. The smell of burning flesh.
The bright white lights of the emergency room, the smell of bleach following her down the hallway. They now follow her everywhere. It follows her down the isle of the grocery store when she buys her coffee. Extra dark roast. She could really use some of that coffee right about now.
She lay down on her hardwood floor. All the apartments in the building had oak floors, but nobody seemed to notice. She curled up into a little ball and thought about the life she used to have. The life she now wished was still in tact. She would wake up and it would all be back to normal. She was going to find a new meteor freak to investigate, everything would be back to normal.
No. She was Linnea Lennox now. Not Jane Doe, and definitely not Chloe Sullivan. She wished that she was Jane Doe again. Everything is so much simpler when you're on Morphine and Demerol.