DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for promopro, who requested that I use the phrase “hold the presses.” Not what you were expecting? Yeah, me either. Still, I hope you find it to your liking. I still have two more prompts outstanding. I promise I’ll get to them as soon as something comes to me. I mean, I am in Lindsay’s home state at the moment, so hopefully the spirit of Boxer will bite me in the ass and send something good my way, eh?
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Reality Check
By TexasWatermelon


It's a fluke. A mistake. A temporary loss of sanity and the acquisition of complete and total madness. It's enough to make you think that you're dreaming, that you imagined it. It's fake, a hallucination, a mirage. It has to be. Because there is absolutely no way in hell that Lindsay Boxer kissed you.

You tell yourself it didn't happen. Because really, it's easier that way. She didn't put her finger over your lips to put an end to your incessant babbling. She didn't stare down at you with such intensity that it set your soul on fire. She didn't grab you by the shoulders and pull you towards her until your bodies were melded together so that you could feel every molecule of her being inside you. And she most certainly didn't lean down and place her lips on yours, not just kissing them, but owning them, remolding them, so that no lips will ever fit again but hers. None of that happened, so it doesn't matter.

For some reason completely unknown to God or man, you decide to tell Jill one day about your not kiss with Lindsay. The two of you are on your way to the morgue, paged by mother Claire again, when you let slip that Lindsay kissed you. You say it in passing as though it's unimportant. Because it is. Because it didn't happen. And Jill stops dead in her tracks, grabs you by the arm and spins you around and says:

"Whoa, whoa, hold the presses there, Lois Lane. Lindsay kissed you?" She seems oddly alarmed by this, so you reassure her.

"No. That's what I'm saying. It didn't happen."

"But you said that Lindsay kissed you." You give her a wry grin.

"I remember it, but I know it didn't happen. It couldn't have. Lindsay would never kiss me," you say with the utmost conviction. Jill just looks at you like you're kind of crazy, which is okay, because you already know that you are.

When Lindsay kisses you again, you're still convinced that it's not real. When she makes love to you for the first time, you have your doubts. Even when she lets slip to the rest of the club that you guys are "dating," you don't fully believe it. But when she tells you a few months later that she loves you, her eyes filled with the strongest emotion you've ever witnessed and more truth than you could ever hope to muster, that's when it finally starts to sink. Lindsay Boxer didn't just kiss you; she claimed you, and everything that you are.

The End

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