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She looked good in black.
Usually.
It was the color of her professionalism, of her power, of the severity and seriousness that she approached her life with.
Until her. Until Kara flew into her life and suddenly transformed stark black and white into a palette of bright colors. Golden hues of sunrises, blonde hair, and beaming smiles. Deep blues of the ocean, of her eyes, of the sky as she soared across it.
Not today.
This was a black she never wanted to wear.
This was a black she was never supposed to wear.
Kryptonians were supposed to be immortal. Kryptonians should have outlived everyone they knew, and their childrens’ grandchildren a thousand times over.
But she didn’t, a fist-sized hole in her chest from whatever alien menace they’d been fighting that week; Kara had saved her from certain death by going to hers.
Kara’s heart was gone, and Lena’s with it.
It didn’t matter who or what the alien was. The vacuum left behind by her death was as large and as empty as space itself.
J’onn had dug her pod’s AI out of storage at the newly reformed DEO so she could learn what the proper Kryptonian funeral rites were. She owed Kara at least that much, to do as her people would have done.
The funeral pyre was set with scented wood, her body placed atop it in the traditional white funerary robes of her people. The hill they stood on overlooked the house they’d bought together in the western hills of Ireland, her ancestral home. Lush and green, the morning’s rain driven away by her magic.
She choked back an angry sob, her throat burning. Magic. What good was it, what good were these powers she had, that she couldn’t save her love? All they were good for was parlor tricks, little more than children’s amusements - like keeping the pyre dry.
The bigger ceremony, the public one, had been two days ago in National City. The city had a chance to mourn its hero, to celebrate her life, to put up statues and parades and all the fanfare Kara’s memory was entitled to. Lena didn’t begrudge them that, had made her public appearances to honor her. She had to, looking down at the simple gold ring on her left hand.
But this was for her. To say goodbye properly, privately, in secret. Their last secret together.
Shuddering as the cool morning breeze ruffled her black dress, she recited from memory.
Though we go forth alone, our soul unites us under Rao’s gladsome rays.
We are never lost.
Never afraid.
For we shrink not under the sun of righteousness.
Rao binds us to those we love.
He gives us strength when we have none.
And in the darkest places, He guides us.
For Rao sees all, feels all, His love eternal.
Rao, protect us so that we might protect others.
And we shall rise, a fire in His hearth, burning and free.”
Lena let a tear fall as she looked at the pyre.
“You were my north star. You were my always. You were my compass, Kara.” She felt like the elderly spouse waking one morning to find their lifelong love unmoving in their shared bed. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Kara was supposed to be here, not her.
She took a deep breath and touched the torch to the pyre, straw and wood catching immediately. Flames crept, then danced, then roared as the blaze grew hotter and hotter.
Lena watched… and watched… and fell to her knees in anguish. She realized the depths of her failure, her error, as ashes rained from the sky.
The rites were for Kryptonians.
On Krypton.
Under a red sun.
In a last insult, in a last irony, Kara’s body remained untouched despite the fiery inferno around it. Not even her hair curled in the blaze. The earth’s yellow sun preserved her still.
“Why? Why couldn’t you protect her then? Why couldn’t you save her? Why?” she screamed at the sky, screamed at the unblinking yellow star that was the source of Kara’s power.
Hours later, as the sun set and the final embers cooled, Lena sat motionless, staring at the remains of the pyre. The grass was scorched in a giant circle around it, and Kara lay atop the smoldering ashes, arms still crossed over her chest.
She looked at the macabre display, her wife looking like she was just taking a nap.
The sun set.
The sun rose.
And set again.
In the light of the moon, Lena finally pulled herself to her feet. Rao’s prayer echoed in her mind. Rao binds us to those we love, she recited over and over, the words barely passing her numb lips.
The night sky suddenly felt as clear and as bright as day.
She looked up at the stars and she knew what she had to do.
She gathered Kara in her arms and carried her back to their cottage, a reversal of how Kara had carried her over the threshold when they’d first married, then started making calls.
Two weeks later, she had a front row seat on an otherwise routine satellite launch, taking Kara’s body into space. The plan was for her to accompany it to the International Space Station, then have it be launched into the sun as she and the crew saluted it, following a rare tradition reserved for the greatest of Krypton’s heroes in the past.
Plans change.
Lena removed the earpiece from her ear, ignoring the shouting coming from it, and turned off the communications in the control pod. She keyed in the coordinates to send the entire ship into the sun and activated the thrusters, then unstrapped herself from the pilot’s seat and pulled herself, weightless, next to where Kara’s body lay strapped into a makeshift cot.
Lena tugged against the straps until she was embracing Kara, closed her eyes, and recited Rao’s prayer with her lips against Kara’s temple. Earth’s yellow sun might not be Rao, but she would find her way back to Kara nonetheless.
And they would rise, a fire in His hearth, burning and free.
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