Catherine Grant sat behind the desk in the GBS newsroom while the make-up artist applied the final touches on the anchorwoman's face. She kept her eyes closed while the woman did her job. Today would be a very difficult newscast, and Cat knew it. It was one she never thought she would have to do.

The make-up artist moved away and the cameraman shouted out to Cat, "okay, we're on in five, four, three..." He kept silent while his fingers flashed two then one and then he pointed to Cat. She took a deep breath and exhaled just as the red light that said 'ON AIR' flashed.

"Good morning, Metropolis, I'm Cat Grant and this is GBS News," she said. On the monitor off the side, the crew could see a small square image appear next to Cat's head, a photograph of the recently-devastation. "Thanks to the efforts of the superhuman community, the recent string of natural disasters which have ravaged the planet have now ceased. Although Metropolis sustained considerable damage, the city fortunately fared better than some other locations. Superhuman response teams composed of Justice League reserve members are doing their part to assist search and rescue teams in the excavations.

"On a sadder note, however, one of Metropolis' most prominant citizens sadly passed away during the recent cataclysm. Lois Lane, a Pulitzer-prize winning reporter for the Daily Planet who has provided Metropolis readers with insightful and informative news throughout the years, was killed during the attack. Lois is famously known for her coverage of Metropolis' own resident protector, Superman, even being the first to name the Man of Steel. Lois' husband and fellow reporter, Clark Kent, has requested that the funeral services remain private, for family and close friends only.

"Lois, on behalf of WGBS and Metropolis as a whole, allow me to say that you will be sorely missed. You were a great reporter and a good friend."

The sleek, black jet in the style of a bat was a sharp contrast to the icy white tundra of the arctic. Its pilot was primarily used to staying out of sight and though that wasn't possible in the North Pole, there was no one who could spot him. He pushed forward on the throttle and the aircraft accelerated. He could see his destination off in the distance.

It was a gigantic, crystalline structure. The sun shined off its perfect prisms, creating sharp reflections of light. Perhaps one of the most beautiful structures on Earth, although it definitely was not of Earth. It was the product of an alien civilization, one that had been extinct for quite some time.

He pulled back on the throttle and the plane decreased its speed. Flicking a few switches, he activated the jet's vertical take-off and landing system. Landing braces emerged from beneath the wings as the aircraft slowly lowered itself. They hit the ice and snow and once he was confident of the footing the craft was on, the hood of the cockpit rose. He released the restraints binding him to the seat and climbed from the jet.

The flight suit was lined with extra padding to protect him from the harsh temperatures. Still, he could feel the chill in his bones as he approached the crystalline structure. Up close, it appeared even more massive than one could ever imagine. Up here, at the point this Fortress of Solitude stood, its occupant was literally on top of the world.

Once inside the Fortress, the temperature was starkly different. No longer was it as frigid as the rest of the arctic. On the contrary, it was actually rather inviting. The silent visitor shed the outer layers of the insulated flight suit. Beneath it was the simple gray and black costume many were used to seeing him in, complete with the dull yellow pouch belt strapped around his waist and the large, black bat silhouette emblazened on his chest. His black mask with its pointed ears was connected to a flowing cape that was specifically designed with numerous uses in mind. For now, it just cloaked his entire body as he walked through the crystal halls, like a silent wraith.

The corridors led to one, large room. It was the absolute center of the Fortress. In the center was a large, crystal column that extended all the way to the top where it ended in a chair that, had the Batman not known any better, could have easily been confused for a throne. The crystals seemed to offer projections of various newsstations, without the use of any actual video monitors. Seated in that chair at the top was a man in blue slacks with a white, button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, the collar was undone, and the red tie hung loose around his neck. His short, black hair was an absolute mess and he wore a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses which dulled the intensity of his blue eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, not even glancing down at his companion.

"I came to talk," said the Batman.

"That's not really your area of expertise, is it, Bruce?"

"I drew the short straw."

"Seriously?"

"No, it was a joke. Can't you tell this is my prankster voice?"

"Funny, sounds a lot like your regular voice."

"I get that a lot," said the Batman. He approached the column and looked around, but saw no staircase. His gaze drifted back up to the man seated at the top. "Are you going to come down here, Clark, or do I have to come up there?"

"I can hear you just fine from here," said Clark.

"Not all of us have superhuman hearing."

"Not my problem."

"Fine, have it your way," said the Batman. He reached into his belt and removed a grapple-gun. Aiming it at the ceiling, he fired and the hook embedded itself in the crystal. The Batman hit the recoil button and the device raised him into the air. Once he was high enough, he set his feet on the platform Clark's chair was attached to and returned the gun to his belt.

"Now..." said the Batman. "Are we going to talk, or would you prefer to sulk and replay footage from the Floronic Man's attack?"

"What do you think?" asked Clark.

"You can't just stay in here forever."

"You have your Cave, I have my Fortress," said Clark. "Is there a reason you're here?"

"Is there a reason you're wearing those glasses when you don't need them?" The Batman reached for them, but Clark pulled away, ensuring they remain on his face.

"Probably the same reason why you wear that cowl in the Batcave, even when you're alone," said Clark. "We're both far more comfortable with masks on, aren't we Bruce?"

The Batman had no real response to offer. Clark chuckled just slightly.

"It's actually pretty funny when you think about it," he said. "The two of us are probably considered the archetypal superheroes. Chief among the rest. You're the epitome of humanity and I'm the epitome of power, or at least that's what they say, right? And yet, look at us. We defy the traditional paradigm. Everyone else, they wear masks to hide who they really are. But you and I? We have to put on masks to become our true selves. Ironic, huh?"

"They're wrong."

"Who is?" asked Clark.

"The ones who say I'm the epitome of humanity," said the Batman. "I'm not. Superman is."

"An alien from a dead planet is the epitome of humanity?" asked Clark, a quizzical expression on his face.

"Yes," said the Batman, his expression remaining unchanged. "It's Superman who shows us the ideal. What we can all be if we simply push ourselves hard enough. And I'm not referring to powers, either. Superman is more than that, Clark. That's something I would think you of all people would know by now."

"Bruce, you've always thought me naive."

"You're right, and I still do think that way, but that's something the world needs," said the Batman. "I do what's necessary to protect my city, Clark. I don't profess to be a role model, nor do I want to be. I get my hands dirty so others don't have to. But I shudder to think what the world would look like if everyone saw it through my eyes. But you, you offer them hope. I live in the shadows, in the gray. You live in full color."

Clark's voice dropped a few octaves, barely audible. "And how do you expect me to do it?"

"Come again?"

"I said..." he began. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the Batman's shirt with both hands, pulling him close. "HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO IT?"

The Batman remained calm. His hands were together, palm-to-palm, and he put his hands through the gap between Clark's arms. With all the strength he could muster, the Batman quickly separated his arms, breaking Clark's grip on him. He knew Clark could stop him if he wanted to, even broken his arms by simply clenching his own muscles. But Clark's grip on the Batman wasn't a strong one, and it's something both men were keenly aware of.

"I don't know," said the Batman. "I'm just a man."

"And I'm not?" asked Clark, the anger beginning to rise in his voice.

"No, you're better," said the Batman.

"I JUST LOST MY WIFE!" exclaimed Clark. He swung his arm out and pointed to one of the projections that showed Superman standing over the body of Lois Lane.

"Is that what this is all about?" asked the Batman. "You think you're the only one who's experienced a great loss?"

"No, I know I'm not," said Clark. He slumped back into the chair, his forehead resting against his palm. "But look at what loss has done for you. How do you expect me to continue trying to play the role of this ideal hero who's able to smile all the time? How am I supposed to act like life is easy?"

"You're not," said the Batman. "Superman doesn't pretend everything is easy. He faces up to challenges without sacrificing his ideals. And that's what I'm asking you to do."

"Both Ra's al Ghul and the Floronic Man have posed threats in the past," said Clark. "If they were just... taken care of when we first encountered them, then maybe... maybe..."

"Maybe Lois would be alive," said the Batman. Clark nodded with his eyes closed. "Perhaps that's true. Or perhaps someone else would have killed her. Lex Luthor, perhaps. Or the Parasite. Or Braniac or the Joker. Or someone completely different.There will always be men in this world who will do whatever it takes to get what they want. What separates us from them is that we have a code we stick to. And no one is better at reminding us about that than you."

The Batman turned his back to Clark Kent and approached the edge of the platform.

"You've suffered a loss, perhaps the worst you've ever experienced," he continued. "I'm not telling you not to mourn the death of your wife. Lois is dead, but you aren't. So don't let your grief bury you beside her. You're better than that."

"Atlas..." said Clark.

"Hmm?" The Batman turned around.

"I'm Atlas," said Clark. "Cursed to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders for all eternity. That's what my role is in this world, isn't it? That's what Superman's role is. To keep the planet from falling out of space. Someone has to hold it up, and that person is me, right?"

"Clark, Atlas was a myth," said the Batman. He turned back to the edge of the platform. "Now take off your glasses and stop feeling sorry for yourself."

With that, he leapt from the platform and his cape flared out like wings, allowing him to safely lower himself to the ground. He took one last look at his friend, and then the Batman was gone.

Clark Kent stood from his seat in the front pew of the church and slowly walked up the altar and stepped behind the podium. He was dressed in a black suit with a black tie and he adjusted his glasses as he pulled out several sheets of paper. He looked over the speech he had prepared for his wife, then looked out over the people she knew best. Her friends and her family, all waiting to hear what he had to say.

He sighed, and tore the pages in half, then put them back in his jacket pocket. Clark cleared his throat before he began to speak.

"Lois was the bossiest, loudest, most stubborn woman I have ever known in my entire life," he said. A bit of laughter came from the crowd. "Judging from your reaction, I'm not the only one who thought that way. Although her tenaciousness could be a bit much at times, I don't think there is one person in this room who would ever say it was anything less than one of her finest qualities.

"When Lois and I first met, she was obnoxious, rude, and she absolutely refused to listen to reason. She knew what needed to be done and she would do it before anyone else had a chance to say anything to the contrary. I fell in love with her almost instantly. And over the years, my love for her only grew. She had a softer side to her. Not only was she tenacious, but she was one of the kindest women I ever knew.

"I've never met someone who was half as strong as Lois Lane. And I don't think I'll ever meet someone that strong again. She was one of a kind. The world is definitely a sadder place without her."

He backed away from the podium and placed his hand on the casket that sat behind him. He lifted two fingers to his lips and kissed them, then touched them on the fine, wooden surface.

"You're always with me. I love you."

NEXT: Counter Clock Universe

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I thought I'd take a moment to address this. What I've done is definitely a big deal. Lois and Clark, they're the oldest couple in the history of comic books. And not only have I broken them up, I've killed Lois. I mean, let that sink in for a minute—I killed Lois Lane. And you know what? I don't regret it, not for a second.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that Superman needs some sort of personal tragedy and trauma, something that he couldn't have prevented. A lot of heroes have this personal tragedy, but in the Post-Crisis DC Universe, it was denied Superman. One of my favorite movies in Richard Donner's Superman film is when Clark Kent is standing over his father's grave and says, "all those things I could do... all those powers... and I couldn't even save him." That scene has always stuck with me as being extremely poignant and extremely necessary for the Man of Steel. So when I looked back and realized that Post-Crisis Superman had no such poignant moment, I thought it was a great injustice.

But more importantly, I'm of the belief that once Lois and Clark got married, that was it for them. With a few exceptions, their relationship ceased to be interesting. And when it gets to that point, there are only two ways to shake things up significantly enough. Either break them up or kill one of them off. And since this is Superman's book (plus it's been done before), obviously he can't die. So Lois was the target.So I'm sorry to fans of Lois, but I feel this is something that had to be done.

Happiness is nice, but tragedy is a story.

-Dino Pollard
April 28, 2006