A Pocketful of Shattered Dreams

"I'm a colleague of your brother Klein."

They're such simple words, but the man's expression sets her on guard, something horrible and sticky bubbling in her gut.

He's solemn and drawn and Klein isn't with him—

"I'm very sorry. Your brother Klein died at the hands of an evil criminal while he was trying to save others. He's a hero, a true hero."

He continues on about compensation and she doesn't bother listening because it's not true. It can't be true. Melissa won't believe it, she won't—

Everything was going so well, so why? Just that morning, the sun bright as any other day, they had breakfast and Klein went off to work, she and him and Benson having the promise of a play afterwards. A well-deserved break, a little treat they couldn't have before Klein got this job.

Hero, that man told them. Hero, they print in the papers. She doesn't want to hear it.

Klein is her quiet, awkward brother who has his head in his books all the time... She was worried after hearing about his friends' deaths, but he bounced back by himself and even got along with the people in his new company. He opened up, more confident of himself, and while she never wanted him to change, it's nice to see that new side to him. If he became a lecturer like he planned, that might not have happened—maybe he'd still be in that shell, maybe they wouldn't be doing so well now—but he'd be there with them.

Nothing could matter as much as that.

She twists the gloves she's wearing, ducks her head under the brim of her hat, feels the burning in her eyes.

It still doesn't feel real. These days are a daze, some strange blurry dream that can't be right, because Klein isn't there but he's been there since she could remember, before she even knew how to walk or talk.

It isn't fair, she wants to cry out, but who or what would listen? The Goddess brought peace and safety and protection, but 'She' couldn't bring back a life.

Benson pulls her along, his expression dull and exhausted, but he's looking ahead and trying to be strong for her too, taking on everything that has to be done, and she wishes she could return it, be a pillar for him, except she can't and she hates herself for it.

The weeks after Mother died, Klein was there for her. Benson tried, but he couldn't skip work when he was all that was supporting them, while Klein hadn't started at the university yet. When it felt too much, they'd sit with each other and talk about anything and everything. He'd remind her the three of them would always have each other.

She believed him then. She didn't think otherwise. But it wasn't true now.

He'd left them.

The funeral is over. Benson leaves to get a carriage. She remains there, staring at the tombstone, at the smiling picture, confirming a reality she doesn't want to accept, never ever, but it's not a choice. She doesn't have a choice.

"Stupid," she mutters, hating him for doing this to them, loving him even more than that as she always has, and the tears finally fall without end.