I had feelings and I needed to get them out, lol. Thanks for reading, hope you like it. :)

Seek His Monument

"Lois, I want you to go interview a guy in Metropolis General, he saved a homeless man and got his hand crushed. Poor bastard."

Lois pulled herself from the article she was putting together with difficulty. Perry waited with an edge of impatience for her to actually raise her head and meet his gaze. The silence before she answered was just barely longer than normal.

"Why?"

"Because, Lois. We are a newspaper. We report news." Perry hadn't lost his sarcastic edge at all since Clark was killed, but he hadn't been using it on Lois of late. She barely noticed, her mind already working.

"No. I mean why don't you have Jenny cover it?" Lois rarely spent time reporting community interest stories. Perry knew she was far better at covering larger issues.

"I want you to do it."

She couldn't quite hide her lack of enthusiasm, her gaze already flickering back to her computer to contemplate the headline. It was another piece about Lex Luthor and his role in Superman's death. Lois was steadily filling the gaps in the public conscious about Lex's crimes, especially the ones directly surrounding Superman. She'd already given her testimony on being kidnapped by Lex, cleared Superman of any fault in the Nairomi incident, and was now tackling the Capitol bombing.

It had been two weeks since they buried Clark, and she had barely stopped working.

"Lois." Perry lowered his voice, and the concern in his voice was what caught her attention and pulled her away again. He was leaning down to put a paper with a name and contact details in front of her. He laid it on her notepad and held it with a finger, looking into her face. "You're the one I want on this. There's something about it. No one else can dig to the center of a story like you. You are taking this one."

A stir of interest rose as she looked at him. He was very serious. The idea that this story might be innocent on the surface but cover a deeper secret was intriguing, as always. She loved digging deeper. Her eyes darted back to her computer one last time before she sighed. "Fine."

Perry nodded in satisfaction and slid the paper closer to her before straightening up. "As soon as possible. I want you to interview him today if you can."

Lois was already picking up the phone to dial.

The man's name was Roger Peterson, and he worked construction. His wife fielded the call since he was in another surgery. They made an appointment for Lois to visit in a few hours, once he was back in his room and stabilized enough to be interviewed.

Lois spent the next several hours researching the accident and prepping for the interview. She ate lunch alone at her desk, simultaneously chewing, scouring the internet and making a few more calls. It was only once she ran out of things to do and sat still for a moment, brain finally quiet, that she realized how tired she was. She was exhausted.

She hadn't slept much since the funeral. That was to be expected. Their bed was too empty knowing Clark would never return to it. It was too big without his warmth. She missed how the cold never bothered him. She missed his smile. She dreamed of him and slept restlessly when she did manage to fall asleep. And it wasn't much better when she was awake, because she simply couldn't find Clark Kent anywhere.

She wasn't delusional. She knew he was dead and gone. But even in their apartment, surrounded by their things and pictures with both of them, Lois couldn't feel anything but piercing loss. It was normal. A natural part of losing a loved one. Yet it felt wrong. He was Superman. Didn't that make him more?

So she still looked for him at the Daily Planet, expecting him to come in any moment and tell her he had just needed some rest. She still found herself looking for him on her phone, waiting for a text, or in the news waiting to write a story when Superman performed some great act. He still felt larger than life, and so somehow an irrational part of her mind felt he must also be larger than death.

But she couldn't find him. She of all people knew what made him vulnerable, and that he could be hurt and even killed in the right circumstances. The worst had happened. He was a powerful being, but he was also just her Clark. She missed him so much it settled into a numb, cold ache in her chest.

Now the only time she really felt close to him was when she was deep into an article clearing his name or bringing Luthor's machinations to light. That was when she could see him best. Clark Kent, the Superman she loved. She wanted his name cleared and his image restored. Clark was gone. He had left her, and all she could do now was work day and night to clear his name.

Roger's wife had told her the floor and room number, so she made her way through Metropolis General with ease. She tapped lightly on the correct door. "Mr. Peterson?"

"Come in." His voice was rumbly and slightly hoarse. Lois gave him a congenial smile and moved inside, closing the door behind her. "You that reporter my wife talked to?"

"Yes. I'm Lois Lane."

He was sitting up, the head of the hospital bed raised to allow him a better view of the television. He was wrinkled and weathered, looking about sixty but probably closer to fifty. He looked like he had worked outside for most of his life. His disheveled gray hair matched his two day old stubble. One hand was very still at his side, wrapped in gauze with a small drain protruding. He used his good one to turn off the TV. "There's not much to tell you, sorry you had to come all the way down here." He raised his good hand—his left one—to awkwardly shake hers.

"It's no problem. I'd just like to hear your story." Lois waited while he mulled that over a moment. She could see he wasn't truly hostile, but he didn't seem to see what the fuss was about. Finally he waved at the chair across the room.

"Fine. Not much of a story though."

Lois sat and pulled out her notebook, then placed her phone on the bedside table with the microphone app ready to record. "Do you mind if I record you?" Roger shrugged. She pressed the record button and settled back in her chair. "I've already researched the details of your accident, but I'd like to hear it from you in your own words." She poised her pen over her notebook and waited.

Roger looked a bit lost. "I was working on that new apartment building down 51st street. We were moving in dry wall sheets, and there was a crane moving bricks up to the upper floors. Fireplaces, you know," he waved his good hand aimlessly. Lois nodded her understanding. "There's a hob—homeless guy who panhandles nearby, see him every day. One of the crew lost control and dropped their drywall, and the crane lifting bricks had a new driver, a kid, he didn't know any better. He tried to back up to avoid the drywall sheets and the bricks up top started to swing. The stress was too much and the load fell. It was going to fall right on the homeless guy. So I ran and pushed him out of the way. He came out okay, but I wasn't fast enough and the bricks crushed my hand." Roger twitched his bandaged hand and looked down at it. As Lois watched, something indefinable slipped across his face and was gone. It was at odds with what she would expect to see. She could feel the familiar feeling that there was more to a story and mentally grounded herself into classic investigative journalist mode. She gave Roger one of her nonthreatening smiles to put him at ease. But she also leaned forward slightly as she did it.

"So how is it? Your hand?"

Roger gave a mild shrug. "It hurts. They're giving me painkillers. It'll never be the same again, of course. Got crushed pretty bad. Worst part is my wrist it's real bad. The docs are worried about blood flow. If they can't keep it moving right in the hand and all the way to the fingers I might lose it."

"You might lose your hand?" Roger nodded in reply. Lois made note of his lack of expression regarding it. "And how do you feel about that?"

"It's fine. Better than that guy getting killed." Roger gave her a half smile, but his lips trembled slightly.

"Is it?" Lois threw out the jolting question, hoping to shake him up and break something loose. Something was lurking, and she wanted to know what it was.

It worked. Roger gave her a shocked look mingled with disgust. "Of course it is! You think he doesn't matter?"

"But you may lose your hand."

"Maybe that's just something I deserv —" Roger's voice dropped out abruptly, but it was too late. He frowned at the foot of the bed, pressing his lips shut in a vain attempt to recall the words. Lois honed in on him, eyes piercing, debating her next move. Once she decided it, she leaned back in her chair and affected a more relaxed, disarming demeanor.

"I just have one more question, Roger." She allowed her words to sink in and watched as Roger visibly relaxed, thinking he was almost out of the woods. He gave her a nod of acceptance and waited.

Lois crossed her legs, still keeping it relaxed. "You said the homeless man was panhandling near the build site?"

There was the tiniest of pauses before Roger confirmed it cautiously. "Yes."

Lois gave him a direct look and spoke with razor sharp precision, zeroing in on her target. "Aren't most build sites blocked off by some kind of fence or barrier to keep the general public out, specifically so they don't get harmed? Why would a homeless man be on the site, was he asking the crew for money?"

Roger stared at her, jaw somewhat slack. She could see surprise and the realization that she'd tricked him cross his face, followed by a myriad of mini-decisions deciding how to handle it. Finally he let out a snorting grumpy sigh, mingled with one word.

"Reporters."

Lois gave him a small smile.

Roger sighed. "He panhandles on the corner at the end of the block, not the build site."

Lois nodded, a tiny motion. "So why was he there?"

Roger was looking at his toes. "I gave him a dollar."

"When?"

"That morning, on my way to work." He looked so ashamed Lois took a moment to process the answer.

"You gave him a dollar." It was a nudge, to get him talking again.

"Yeah." Roger took a shuddering breath and looked at the ceiling first before glancing her way again. "He was so happy. So grateful. He talks to himself you know, mutters. It always made me avoid him. I don't think he's quite right in the head..." Roger descended into silence. Lois noted his shallow breaths. "He came on the site. He was calling to me. Like I was his friend or something, saying thank you," he cleared his throat quickly. "That's how it happened. He distracted the guy with the sheet rock, it fell in front of the crane and the driver backed up so the bricks fell. He was right under them. I pushed him out of the way."

There was a sheen in Roger's eyes now, unshed emotions catching the light. Lois waited, hoping Roger would feel pressured by the silence and move to fill it. He did, his face crumpling as words rushed out.

"I mean it's a dollar, you know? I gave him a dollar. What can you even buy with that nowadays, not even coffee at Starbucks. And he looked at me like I was his savior, his best friend. I left so fast. I didn't give him a chance to say much. And so he came to—he wanted to thank me, and it almost got him killed." Roger shook his head, rubbing his good hand over his grizzled cheeks. He heaved a sigh, exerting self control not to cry.

Sympathy was clear on her face. "And you think that's your fault?"

Roger nodded, eager to clarify his guilt. "I've been working this build site for four months. And five days a week, I walked past this guy and I didn't even look at him. I always kept walking. It wasn't my problem. He made me nervous. Maybe if I'd talked to this guy before now, or helped him a little, if I had just stayed a little longer instead of running away, he wouldn't have been so damn excited that he had to come and find me. He wouldn't have put himself in danger." Roger shook his head and looked away. He looked as if he had just lost size, smaller in his bed but somehow more real. The shaky sigh that left him seemed like it been been waiting a long time.

Lois kept her voice soft. "What changed? Why now, after four months?"

He lifted his head. "Him."

"Him. The homeless man?"

Roger shook his head and gave her a look that made him seem like a small boy all of a sudden, embarrassed and proud all at once. "Superman."

She stared at him, a sudden lump in her throat. Her voice emerged as a whisper of itself. "Superman."

Roger noted her sudden change but didn't question it. "Ever since he died, I've been thinking. About helping people, making a difference. Had to start somewhere."

She swallowed. "But you — Mr. Petersen, you're not an alien. You don't have super strength —"

His voice overpowered hers, suddenly passionate. "That doesn't matter. All my life I've only looked out for me and my family. No one else. And this guy — an alien — cares about us so much that he gets killed? I can't look another human in the eye because I think he's dangerous or something, mankind is hating each other, always fighting...and he still cared? I can't look at myself anymore if I don't change." Roger looked at her, suddenly much more sure of himself.

"My son is a teacher, and he came over for dinner last weekend. He told me about what he's teaching the kids in his class now. They're talking about him. The kids want to be like him — not strong and be able to fly — they want to help, give hope." He made a gesture with his hands, as if trying to get his thoughts into words. "Ms. Lane, he's helping us still. I feel like those kids. I'm not made like him, but I can be like him." He raised his bandaged hand to draw her eyes to it. "And if I lose my hand because I was helping someone, I still haven't done as much as he did."

Lois was afraid to blink, sure that if she did the tears she refused to let fall would escape. They shone in the light, ever present as she looked down at her empty notepad, her thoughts full of Clark. Finally she managed to regain complete control and reach for Roger's good hand.

"Superman would be proud."

When Lois finished the interview and left Metropolis General, she didn't take a cab back to the Daily Planet as she usually would. Instead she stood outside the hospital and took in the people around her. A man was helping a woman lift her stroller and baby up some stairs, since she had come the wrong way and missed the ramp. Lois smiled a little looking at the scene.

The bus stop caught her eye and she got on the first one that arrived. It was late in the day and many were headed home from work or going somewhere else for the evening. Lois rode in silence and watched, fingering the familiar but still new ring on her left hand. She'd been reaching to shake Roger's good hand before she left when he noted it, it caught the light as she clutched her notebook and pen.

"That's a nice ring, Ms. Lane. Congratulations, he's a lucky guy." Roger smiled warmly at her.

Lois couldn't prevent the slightly sad smile that formed, but she covered it quickly. "He's one of a kind, Mr. Peterson."

Lois watched the sunlight glint off the diamond. The bus moved through Metropolis, the breaks in between sky scrapers giving the light a flickering effect as it shone into the bus and on the passengers there. There was a man with white teeth and loud laughter, joking with his friend in the back. But he quickly offered his seat to an older lady as she got on. There were smiles shared between strangers. A mother leaned over to compliment a young woman, who in turn smiled and complimented the woman's child. Sunlight played as the child looked up, bright-eyed, from the drawing clutched in small hands. Lois tilted her head to look at it.

The grimy bus windows diffused the sun and scattered warm drops of light on a childishly drawn but recognizable shield, gold with a prominent red S.

Lois complimented the child's picture too.

Lois had no destination in mind, but when the bus pulled up at the newly re-opened monument park, now cleared of the rubble and what used to be Superman's monument, she got out. There were strolling couples and joggers moving in and out of the wide space. Flowers and mementos remained, scattered around the new plaque. Lois knew it was there, she had written the story for it. But she hadn't been back since. She sat on a nearby bench and surveyed the public. What was clearly a youth group teacher had a cluster of pre-teens gathered nearby, and from the look on her face she was earnestly exhorting them to do good. A family moved past and the children dropped individual flowers next to the words written under the plaque. As they left, the youngest turned to an older sibling and Lois could barely make out their words.

"...does 'look around you' mean?" The sibling rolled his eyes but answered as they walked. Behind her, a man was giving detailed information on the food bank he wanted to open and getting an exuberant reception.

Lois sat amid citizens of Metropolis and lost track of time. She had lived in this city for so long, and she knew what it felt like. It was a big city and it had a typical big city feel. People moving about their business, not really paying attention to anyone else. But now there was something else. This was new. This was different. Metropolis seemed to be brimming with goodwill. She'd been too wrapped up in Clark's loss, too isolated to notice.

The sun moved lower in the sky, bathing the park in light before slowly receding. Lois felt its warming rays seep into her body. It brought back memories of Clark, standing in the sun. She had watched him too many times to count as he closed his eyes and lifted his head, seeming to drink in the sun and gain strength with every passing second. And Lois knew that she was a human and had no claim to Krypton physiology, but she felt that this time the sun was enriching her in his absence, lending her a much needed strength before it slipped away for the night. For the first time since she had walked away from his coffin, it felt like Clark was near her somehow. She played with the diamond ring, watching it sparkle. A memory surfaced. Clark's beautiful blue eyes sparkling. Him shyly glancing at her over a table in the interrogation room so long ago, and the smile as he told her that on his world, the S meant hope.

The warmth of the sun reached deep inside her, and Lois felt the cold numbness inside her begin to fade. Clark hadn't left her. He was all around Metropolis. And she knew that everything was still far from okay, but for the first time she felt that one day, maybe it could be.

She had hope.

On the way home, she noticed the building she and Clark had once passed. It was a shelter for battered women and their children. He had scanned the walls and lamented that the paint had lead in it. It would take money and time to remove it and make the shelter safer, and he was sure the shelter staff didn't have either. He had been working on a way to take care of it before she went to Africa. But after that so much had happened she was sure he had never managed to do it. She made a note in her notebook to look into it and write a story.

She'd take care of that first before she wrote the next story clearing Superman's name.

It was two weeks later that Lois entered her apartment after a long day and put her bag down to remove her coat. Halfway through the motion, she froze. Something was wrong. There was a smell that shouldn't be there, and the light pattern coming through the windows was different. She reached into her pocket for her keys, the closest thing to a weapon she could manage until she got into the kitchen. But before she could flip on the light a distorted voice spoke from the shadows.

"It's me."

Lois gave a strangled exclamation and jolted with surprise, adrenaline flooding her system. Almost immediately irritation set in just as quickly. "Why do you have to hide? I have a doorbell."

Batman stepped from the dark corner, the the dim light entering the windows moving around his dark form. He approached her and as he did light fell on his cowled face. "It's safer this way."

Lois took a breath to slow her hammering heart. He was a large and looming presence, but she wasn't afraid of this man anymore. "What do you want?" She hadn't seen him since the funeral. With Superman dead, she wasn't sure what reason he might have to visit her. She hadn't seen Diana again either, though she was now almost positive she'd spotted her on the street a few days ago. Were they watching her?

Batman held up a thumb drive and stepped closer. "I need your help locating the people on this drive. It's important we find them." He held it out to her. Lois took it slowly, thinking.

"Why me? Surely you have the resources to handle this? You don't need a journalist to help you."

His mouth twitched in the briefest of expressions, his eyes glinting in the dark cowl. "I'd like you to be in on this. It might make all the difference in the future."

She frowned at him, running her thumb over the drive. "Does this have something to do with Clark?"

"I don't know yet. All I know is that we need to locate these people as soon as possible."

Despite his enigmatic delivery, Lois could see that he meant it. He really wanted her to help. In spite of herself, curiosity spiked. She nodded her assent.

"Good." His shoulders seemed to relax some. Lois waited for him to leave, wondering if he'd use the front door or go out the window. But instead he just stood there, suddenly awkward. She waited.

"How's Martha?"

Lois hid her surprise quickly. "She's managing. I called her a few days ago. She'll be okay, she's strong."

His head lowered in acknowledgment and his gaze suddenly lingered, caught by the framed pictures on the end table next to the couch. Clark was hugging Martha, his smile bright and brilliant. Lois and Clark, heads tipped together. Soft smiles and happy faces. Lois hid a pang of loss. Batman looked at them a moment longer before he seemed to suddenly collect himself. He turned to Lois.

"Your fridge is almost empty. You need to take care of yourself."

Lois looked at her fridge in surprise. "I've been busy. And Clark did most of the cook—" she cut off abruptly when she looked back. He was gone. She would have been more annoyed at his abrupt departure, but her look at the fridge had also told her what the unfamiliar smell was. She walked to the kitchen counter and looked down at the bag of take-out sitting there. It was still warm when she felt it. It smelled delicious. Her mouth watering, Lois took it to the table and got her laptop out of her bag as she tried not to imagine how a grown man dressed as bat had obtained it.

She was sitting at the table, chewing a mouthful of food, when she glanced at the pictures too. Clark smiled back at her. She couldn't stop her lips from curving in reply, if still a bit sadly. She still missed him. She fingered her ring before she picked up her fork again. Clark used to make this dish. She wondered if Batman knew that.

"Don't worry Clark, yours is still better." She addressed her remark to his smiling face, but she did take another bite. She was starving. Her eyes fell on the thumb drive and curiosity piqued again. Batman was looking for people. She simply couldn't resist plugging it in.

No time like the present. Time to find out what the future had in store for her. And thanks to Clark, she had hope enough to face it.

The computer screen illuminated her face as she considered three files, each with a different symbol. She chose the first one in line, a lightning bolt, then hovered the cursor over it.

And clicked.

I know this ends as if it's going somewhere, sorry. It's meant to be open ended, a lead in to Justice League Part 1. This was meant to be a one shot and I don't have plans to continue it. If I was suddenly inspired I might, but I have a lot going on at the moment so I doubt it at this point in time. But we have time before the next movie so who knows! Thanks for reading!

ETA: This is now a multi-chapter story, still a bridge to Justice League and I hope it doesn't ruin the message of this first chapter too much. :) I don't pretend that this is going to be nearly as awesome as the actual Justice League part 1 will be, but it is a nice way for my brain to deal with the wait. Hopefully it will be for you too.