AN: Thank you so very much, all of you! I cannot explain how much those reviews made me feel so much better about this story, and motivated me to write more. I'm smiling so much! If I could, I'd give out cookies to you guys! They mean that much!

I'm just sorry I wasn't able to update for two long weeks.

[ Disclaimer: Superman: Man of Steel and its characters, settings and such belong to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing but Eve ]

Kiss It Better

Her hands are so cold,
And he kisses her face and says "everything will be alright..."
He noticed the gun, and his rage grew inside.
He said, "I'll avenge my lover tonight."

"Clark..."

The man looked up, startled at hearing Lois speak. By her ragged breathing, he knew that speech was becoming difficult for her. He wanted to answer "yes," to answer her in some way but speech escaped him. His lips quivered too much, and the large lump in his throat prevented any words from sounding anyway. He tried to smile a as a sort of false reassurance, and it came out more as a grimace.

"Clark—-" Lois grimaced in pain. "Kiss it better, please." She ignored his look of shock. She would give excuses for kisses before—as a victory prize, that it'll make her better when she's sick, to get her to stop ranting—though today, now, was so unexpected. "I'm not ready to go..." she whispered, gasped a shaky breath. "Kiss it all better...?"

Thunder clapped overhead. The rain was now pouring, soaking them to the bone. If either of them were crying, Clark couldn't tell.

"Lois..." His voice cracked. Clark began to shake his head and say "I can't" when she spoke again and he stopped.

"It's okay," her voice was weakening. "You didn't know; no one did. It isn't your fault, love."

It wasn't his fault that he couldn't save her this time.

The next smile she gave cut him to the core. He knew the only thing that kept him from crying was that he didn't want that to be her last sight.

A flash of lightening illuminated the night; the scene forever snapshot into Clark's memory: Lois' bright red hair appearing aflame in the rainy night; her green eyes, always wide with curiosity and cutting, where shockingly dull. He closed his eyes feeling her hands icy against his cheek as he relished this moment. The temperature had dropped that night and Lois shivered.

Clark placed a hand over hers on his cheek, and leaned into her touch. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew that he would be alone without her; he had no one else left—it had just been Lois and his adoptive mother, Martha, for so long. And he had been so relieved when he had found Lois. It was like he had finally found someone else that corresponded to his quirks, someone that completed that mysterious puzzle after many years so solitude. And without her, he had nothing to live for; without her, there would be nothing; without her, he was nothing but a man in a silly red cape.

Clark tried swallowing that lump in his throat.

There had been a reason he put the suit on in the first place. He could have easily said "no" to the hologram of his father, and he could have easily resisted the army when they arrested him. He could have turned his back and ignored the responsibility that had suddenly been placed on his shoulders like a twisted birthright—but he didn't.

Lois had been the reason for all of it, from the beginning.

He will never know it, but her vision was already darkening and swimming horribly. But the pain was gone, for which she was glad.

Clark leaned in, kissing her forehead, hoping she couldn't feel his entire body shaking and his deep breathing and tried to keep hers from freezing. He rested his forehead on hers.

"Everything will be alright," he mumbled.

It was a lie. And they both knew it. That is why their final kiss, which was lasting and lulling, felt so bittersweet.

"Promise?"

This time, tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. Clark didn't try to hide the tear that strayed down his face, blending in with the rain streaming down his face. His voice cracked again, revealing his lie. "I promise."

Lois smiled once more—the last she ever will—and closed her eyes, falling into that soft, velvet blackness that humans have feared for centuries.

Time passed without much movement. There was Clark's rising and falling frame, taking in shallow, shaking breaths, on his knees in the pouring rain. He was hunched over the still body of Lois Lane in his lap, her quiet head resting against his chest, their clothes drenched in red and rain. Once, there was a sound, a sniffle and then a sob, and then he pulled the body closer to himself.

He didn't know how time passed. Clark only registered that in one moment he was letting his emotions pour free, yelling out into the empty night, and in the next, sirens were nearing in the distance.

Clark held her body tighter, ignoring the orders of paramedics when they arrived. They were to put her on a gurney and into the ambulance and to the hospital. When they wheeled her away, Clark wouldn't see her again; when they put her on the gurney, they were going to carry her away from him forevermore. Clark wasn't thinking clearly, a part of his mind told him, and that he convinced himself that would put up a tug-of-war over her if he had to—which came true when a doctor was pushing a little too hard and sent skidding across the wet concrete. In the frenzy, Clark had forgotten that humans were like glass and froze hearing cracking sounds in the cradle of his arms. He reluctantly loosened his grip around Lois' blueing body. He buried his nose in her hair, whispering pitiful apologizes and trying to pick up the last hint of her fragrance. He wanted—needed one last reminder that she was real, that none of this all had been imagined.

Lightening cracked once more, and the scene, in a flash, was a heartbroken man holding the dead body of the love of his life in his arms. The culprit, already more than three blocks away long ago. Two paramedics—one now with a large bruise—trying to convince the man to allow them to take the woman's body away and to the nearest hospital in useless hopes of saving her. And in the light, the shine of metal caught the man's eye.

Clark saw the criminal's pistol gleaming in the moonlight.

A paramedic; the woman in blue hesitated at seeing Clark's bloodshot eyes before ordering him to hand over the lifeless body once more. Clark's gaze did not stray from the weapon; this and time he didn't refuse their orders. The look in his eyes almost frightened the woman and she did feel a crawl up her skin, and she paused before giving Clark the last glimpse of Lois he will ever have.

Clark wanted to cry. He wanted to scream to the heavens in anger and mercy. He know he should, that he should probably be doing so but he just couldn't anymore. He was all cried-out, he felt, and suddenly emotionally numb; it was as if that part of him no longer existed, and he no longer felt extreme emotion.

Clark watched the paramedics with a glazed stare as they strapped Lois' body to the gurney and lifted it inside the vehicle, the third man who he had pushed staggering behind, and not another tear trailed from his eyes. He wouldn't pick up how something snapped in him until days later, but that wasn't important now. His focus was on the handgun hidden in the shadows and out of sight for human eyes.

The woman asked if Clark would like to ride with them back to the hospital. He declined.

The sirens were drowning out by the rain; the ambulance gone. Clark stared at his feet, at the slick metal weapon lying there. This was a stupid decision, really—wasn't it?—but his mind was a blank, horrified state of shock.

It lay just at his feet and within reach. He could easily pick it up, cock it back, and—

And what?

His mind now drew up blanks. Words no longer comprehended reasoning, just the satisfying feeling of all of this being over, of closure, of reprisal...

Rage was brewing like a shaken soda bottle, replacing the grief almost as instantly and completely as it came. It wasn't temperamental, a lone stage of grief, no; this was blood-raw anger that he could feel coursing thru his veins, that bubbled, threatening to burst to the surface. His final thought as the ambulance sirens faded in the distance and the polices' approached, was of revenge, to avenge.

I will avenge my lover. Tonight.

If that woman in blue were to see his eyes now, she would have screamed, "diablo!"

Clark Kent's eyes were no longer bloodshot but a bright, illuminating crimson.

(End Flashback)
*.§~§.*

(A Few Months Later )

Eve Lancaster tapped the stack of papers against the desktop.

She had just finished filing the stack of paperwork assigned from Perry that he suddenly decided that she should be the one to take care of three weeks accumulated work. Now, she was more than ready to go home—to put her feet up, her hair up, and spend the night with her two best men, Ben & Jerry.

'But then again, this is a newspaper press,' she mused to herself.

A television on the west side of the news floor displayed CNN news with the captions on.

Eve turned, hearing the sudden jingle of laughter drift through the otherwise quiet news floor. There normally was little sound other than constant typing or writing or occasional curses from spilled coffee or Jimmy with his camera; there were little to no sounds of the such as the human sounds of joy, much less outright laughter—there's been so long since.

Eve turned in the direction of the source of sound and was shocked to see the three employees loitering around the water tank in a hearty conversation, it seemed like. She was even more surprised to see Clark amount them—he had been getting over Lois for the past year and so, and only this year was he back in the swing of things. Eve was even more caught off guard—her throat clogging and her heart opening and closing very quickly—when he looked her way that same moment, locking eyes. She spun around, her face growing hot, and threw on a calm facade and touched her front teeth with her tongue in a nervous tick. It still surprised her how he could do nothing at all and yet have her feeling like a little school girl with her first crush.

Eve drummed placed the stack of papers down on the desk and drummed the desktop with her nails. She couldn't think of what to do—what to do—Perry, where was Perry—she had to do something—and her pulse was in her throat—

Steve Lombard was still talking, going on about something. Clark took a sip from the small paper cup in his hands, his other arm propped on the water tank, and watched Eve turn away flustered and search for Perry.

Work at The Daily Planet had been frantic and rushed. Everyone had been scrabbling to keep everything in order since their star reporter, as Perry liked to call Lois, died. Since Lois' sudden death, it was as if there was a giant hole in The Planet's processes, production, and everyone's schedules. It was only now that everything was beginning to fall back into place and the holes the had formed being filled in.

Lois hadn't been Eve's most favorite person—for obvious reasons, but—mainly for her bossy and egoistical, queen-like attitude. Eve had witnessed Lois' unjust feats of making Perry allow her get her way, and how Lois treated others, mainly newcomers and anything having to do with the social columns, and especially if she felt they weren't meeting her requirements or going to miss their deadlines. But Eve couldn't help but be a little upset still that her work ended up weighing so much on everyone—she didn't like it but she knew it was inevitable.

As Eve turned away in search of Perry and in hopes of whatever work she could distract herself with, she bumped her hip on the corner of a desk in her hastily attempt to walk away cooly. She cursed to herself, already feeling a bruise forming and missing Clark's snicker. She didn't turn around. If she did, she would have seen that Clark's narrowed eyes followed her still.

Eve slumped in her chair when she returned to her now-empty desk, relieved to be away and from almost ruining her life in embarrassment. She was overdramatizing; she was overdramatic and she knew that, but still—if Alyse had seen her, she would not have been so subtle about her giggling.

Speaking of which—the said blonde poked her head about the short cubicle-like walls to see Eve's forehead catching in one hand.

"So~," Alyse Mulburry looked over from her computer diagonally away form her friend. Perry had thought that this seat would give the blonde an excuse to not "distract" their newcomer, but failed to know that the two had already become acquainted.

Alyse had that look in her eye that hinted there was probably going to be a sly comment to slip from her tongue next.

She opened her mouth to speak but Eve beat her to it. "Not now Lyse," she huffed, blowing a stray dark brown curl from her eye.

"Geez," Alyse frowned. "All I was gonna do was as if you knew of that new snowcone place that opened a few blocks away."

Eve's eyes rolled into her direction. "No. Why?"

Because the duo had known each other since grade school and were the supposedly closest of best friends working here at The Planet, it wasn't exactly hidden. The two still knew how to push each others' buttons and exactly when. And yet, Eve still hadn't mentioned her infatuation with their country-boy employee, no matter how much Eve tried convincing herself she wasn't interested.

A toothy smile spread across Alyse's face. "You are so missing out, my friend. It's absolutely to die for!"

Snowcones were Alyse's favorite snack, dessert, and everything in between. Once, her grandfather told that Alyse's tongue would be permanently colored from the snowcone dye she always ate. But no matter the weather, she'd eat it. Eve begun to think the treat crossed over to an obsession almost, especially after seeing her friend eating one in a dead snowy winter years ago.

Eve sat up and tucked a few curls behind her ear. She decided to go natural after—finally; Alyse's words—getting tired of waking early each day to straighten her hair.

"Did you know snowcones could come in flavors like birthday cake?!" Alyse's eyes brightened in excitement.

"No...?"

Alyse broke out in a wide smile and declared that she would take the other to try it soon. She then went off into her usual chatter about gossip, local complications, international; Eve could tell that her friend was going to go on for a while. Alyse loved to talk, and becoming a reporter had been a good fit for her since she had little to no filter and would be kicked off of being a show host, and Alyse has been putting it to good use. She could produce hour-long conversations on anything—once, she explained in detail of how how silk and cotton jackets are better than jean and leather.

But still, sometimes she hated that they were given different positions—how Alyse was given a writing column beside Cat Grant while Eve was stuck getting coffee and minimal assignments.

But she didn't mind though, not really by much; it's not like she had anything in particular to do. She was the office-girl, so she didn't have the worry about deadlines or meetings or expensive traveling. Her job included printing out articles, sending papers, faxing, serving coffee or tea, and doing the minimal tasks that everyone else wanted to do. Perry liked asking for her opinion and sending her off for personal errands.

Eve was considering telling him that she started looking for another job—she debated actually looking.

She also worried what people thought.

She didn't have as many projects and past pieces to take for consideration like Alyse had, and her major hadn't exactly pointed towards this but still.

She also worried that her job was a turnoff and made her appear to be the annoying and awkward girl who only took up office space and was why Clark hadn't even looked her way since she went up to him that one time... Their eyes catching had been a total coincidence.

Eve rubbed her hip, the pain a fading throb.

Her cheek rested on her right fist propped up on her desk, listening to her friend drone exasperatedly. She wanted to tell Alyse that she had other things to worry about—which she didn't, she was just too worried to think—but thought against it. Her mind eventually began to wonder.

Perry was on the phone, going off at whoever was on the receiving end. Steve and Clark remained at the water tank. Eve glanced over out of the corner of her eye, and she remembered the last time she spoke with him up close and personal. He hadn't been smiling.

Her imagination began elaborating, playing out the many negative scenarios she feared Mister Kent might be plotting to do to her. She was almost convinced that she had ticked him off to no return and he would come up to her desk any day now and flatten her like a bug. She also saw his glance over more like a glare.

Alyse continued talking. Eve was no longer listening.

Kent. Mister Kent. Smallville, as she'd heard Lois call him before. Clark Kent: the statuesque tall, slightly graceless reporter with a chiseled jawline and captivating blue eyes, who once had been very quiet and stuttered when he was nervous, but was devilishly handsome when he smiled. All thoughts, some bad, some good, some naughty to Eve's embarrassment, played out in her imagination.

Eve remembered the bar, of the lingering bitter scent of alcohol. Of his large fingers tapping the sides of his umpteenth glass, of the things she'd imagine he could do with those fingers; of his hand on her leg and she not much better. Of drunkingly flagging down a taxi cab and stumbling, giggling; of the feel of his hands around her waist, pulling her closer, gripping tighter, pulling her flush against him and their hands in each other's hair and the kiss—and of his mouth everywhere, gliding, biting, and the way it felt so god amazing, and how the taxi cab swerved just a bit, but it didn't matter because she was pulling at his shirt and his hands were slipping under the thin fabric of her dress, and—

She hadn't noticed how much time had passed of her daydreaming until Alyse was snapping her fingers in Eve's face and reminded her that she needed to refill the caffeine-aholics' tanks if she didn't want cranky writers coming after her.

Reluctantly, Eve pushed back from her desk and swayed to her feet. She marched to the small break room. She Her fingers twiddled nervously waiting for the machine to brew a new pot. She wondered if she would be able to leave early today before Clark, and if Perry would yell at her for asking.

She wanted to be home, curled up on her couch.

Sucking in a deep breath, Eve steadied the filled cups on a tray to carry out, but she paused before walking out. Right then, she decided to put up a front the rest of the day if she had to—she wouldn't make eye contact with anyone in order to avoid any further embarrassment that day. She took another breath before walking out and doing her job. She was back in her seat sooner than expected, and much to her relief.

'I might make it through the day,' the thought was hopeful.

She took an abandoned magazine from Alyse's desk to make time fly faster. Ten minutes and Quick and Easy Spring meals later, someone walked up to her desk, clearing their throat to make their presence known.

Whenever someone came to Eve, it was either to print papers, scan, filing paperwork, and the like. So as she hastily slid the magazine under her desk, straightened up and twined her fingers together to appear more professional-like, she can only imagine the shock her face probably gave away when she looked up into bright blue, captivating eyes.

"Y-yes?" She paused to swallow. "How may-ay I help you, Mr. Kent?" She didn't feel comfortable calling him Clark anymore.

His eyebrow quirked upward slightly, probably catching her stuttering—or was it the name? He stood tall and straight in front of her, no longer with a slight hunch; he held no smile or sign of amusement. Eve wanted to slump in her chair but straightened her posture even more.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and Eve's heart skipped.

"Ms. Lancaster..." He looked slightly shocked before glancing around and lowering his tone. "If you don't mind my asking, are you...I'd like to know if you are busy—in hopes that you are free this weekend?"

It took Eve several moments to realize she was staring, probably looking like a deer in headlights—even worse that her mouth hung slightly ajar. Clark widened his eyes expectantly for an answer, and her voice returned after two failed attempts.

"I, uh—- I—- it's—- eh—- I m-mean—- I-I'm-I'm-I'm—- erm—-..." She sucked in a steadying breath. "No, I-I'm not busy." She was going to add, "not at all," but thought against it to avoid sounding desperate.

She knew that Alyse was no doubtfully listening but hoped that she and Clark were talking low enough nonetheless to draw attention. It can be hard to have even a normal conversation when in a room full of people who flocked towards any degree of gossip, and in fear it being taken the wrong way.

Clark visibly relaxed, exhaling a puff of air. Eve noticed and couldn't help to wonder what he could be worried about.

"Is, uh, dinner okay?" He ruffled the back of his curls, distracting her momentarily.

"W-what?"

"...May I take you out to dinner?"

"Oh!" She blinked "Not that," she waved her hands in disregard. "I heard you. Of course, I mean—-yes, Clar—-Mr. Kent! I'm just...surpri—-"

She never finished her sentence; it was in that moment Clark leaned in and left a kiss on her cheek. And Eve could swear that her heart stopped for several moments afterwards. She had seen him look around swiftly but the next second was a blurry missing piece in her memory that left her stomaching rosy swirls and cheeks aflame.

He had been dangerously close to her lips too.

"So around nine is okay for you?" he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She knew that small, dumb smirk was from her being speechless.

Eve noticed he waited a moment for her answer and left when she didn't give one. And she just stared. And five seconds after he left, she was still staring. She placed a hand over her cheek feeling where his lips had just been for the second time.

Apparently, her job didn't seem to waver Clark's decision to ask her out.

AN: I hope this makes up for my absence. Sorry if some of this is shabby. What do you all think of Eve? Like her? Hate her? Should there be anymore chemistry between her and Clark...?

I like to imagine Alyse to look like Fluvia Lacerda, and Eve as Tabria Majors.

On an unrelated topic: why did it take me so long to realize how sexy Henry Cavill is?