It Can Happen to the Best of Us
Title: It Can Happen to the Best of Us
Episode: 8.4/Instinct
Theme: Believe
Rating: PG for profanity
Summary: It really wasn't that hard to believe at all.
Spoilers: 8.4/Instinct
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.
Author's Notes: I found it really hard getting into Lois' head for this fic, so I'm not really fond of the way this is written, but I hope anyone who reads it can gleam something from it. :) summerofclois fic
I also wanted to say a huge thank you to _touched and verogeller for all the hard work they put into making this a success. It's been a blast to participate it.
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Lois swallowed two aspirin with a grimace, savoring the cold water as it washed down her throat. The mirror swung into view as she closed the medicine cabinet and she took a moment to examine the little souvenir left on her forehead from the run in with Psychotic Slut. A slight pinkish hue colored the edges and an experimental touch told her it was still a little tender. Her face was slightly pale, eyes pinched from a headache that now seemed to be spiraling out to the rest of her body.
She clicked the bathroom light off, stopping in the doorway so that her eyes could adjust to the darkness before walking to the bed. Tossing the covers back, she slid between the cool cotton sheets, a sigh of pleasure falling from her lips as the soreness in her muscles relaxed ever so slightly. She curled onto her right side, burying her face partially into her pillow and taking in the scent of fabric softener mixed with perfume. Oh, but then, there it was. A tingling inside of her brain; a warning. Only it came a second to late. And she couldn't stop the words from playing over and over; forming on the backs of her eyelids.
He never would have been able to pull away from me if he wasn't drawn by his attraction to you.
“Son of a bitch.” She punched her pillow in frustration even as her stomach rebelled by insisting on turning somersaults. Those words. Those stupid, stupid words that she couldn't exorcise out of her mind. She buried her face even more into the pillow, pulling at the sides so that it partially covered her ears.
Oh, he may not know it yet. But believe me, there's a bond. And I could see it on your face when you caught us together. You feel it too.
Words uttered by a woman who didn't even know her.
Him.
Them.
And yet....
She released the pillow, turning so that she was laying on her back, fingers clasped against her stomach. She gnawed at the inside of her lip.
....the way they'd been said with so much conviction. And passion. No doubt coloring the words as she explained what she had seen/witnessed/felt within only a few seconds of watching them together. And it hadn't only been in her tone. The way she stood there, so certain that getting rid of her would land her the “man of her dreams.” It sounded completely nuts.
You have a deep connection to him.
But really, it wasn't hard to believe at all. Especially when she took into account certain emotions.
That small spark of betrayal. That.... ache she'd felt burn her stomach as startled eyes tried to comprehend what was happening in the elevator.
The bitterness on her tongue as she'd yelled and poked him in the chest. The jealously hugging her posture as she'd stalked to her car, trying in vain to talk herself out what she was feeling.
She couldn't deny she felt something for him. Or she could, but it was really late and she was really tired and that would just take too much energy. She could do all the denying she wanted in the morning. But right then, in that moment, she wanted to believe in those words more than anything. Because that would mean she wasn't alone.
She could rectify, categorize, and catalog it in the morning. Push it to the back of her mind. Forget it every happened. But, for now, in the wee hours of the morning, she would indulge herself.
Just for a moment in time.
Then it would be back to the real world.
THE END