Clark had held out hope, for a time. That Zod had not actually killed the rest of usual adversaries. That for some reason, he had been bluffing.
He found it funny, and he found it sad, that he was the one who most doggedly searched for them, and when his searches came up empty he was the one who most outwardly mourned for them.
That this is how their fighting finally ended.
He reported his findings to the Justice League, and was surprised when afterwards Diana followed him out. She walked by his side, and just as the crowd did at the gala, anyone whose path they crossed moved out of their way.
"Is there something you wanted to discuss with me?" He asked her, when she remained silent.
"I do not pretend to understand your values or your ways, Superman, but tell me when you plan to honor them, and I will stand by your side."
"What?" He had not told anyone his plans. It was going to be a private affair.
"I know you better than you think."
Which was how a few days later, Diana, and only Diana stood by his side, he did not even tell Bruce, as he put the finishing touches on a slab of stone, etching with heat vision all their names, given and self made, dates of birth when he knew them, but all ending the same year. Though Luthor had a grave of his own erected, Clark put his name on for good measure.
A memorial for life lost, in the Arctic where there was so little life. To be stored in his dwelling from a lost people, and this is why he did not want Diana, or anyone else to be here, because he could not keep his composure in this house of death and relics.
Diana did not offer him any soothing words. Did not tell him they were in a better place, that they were at peace. Did not tell him it wasn't his fault, there was nothing he could have done. Did not give any kindness to the victims themselves, that they were good people who had made bad choices.
Refrained from going the opposite route, that they had it coming.
She did not urge him to pull himself together, that he was going too far with all this, even after he fell to his knees. Her only physical attempt to soothe him was the firm pressure she initiated, then maintained gripping his shoulder.
And he understood her too. Better than he thought he had. That this was her show of respect, and it was not for the people whose names were carved before them.
It was for him, and only for him.
That she was not here to witness them.
She was here to witness him.
So she stood silent as a sentinel beside him, and she did not let go.