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.*･｡. WAITING FOR SUPERMAN .*･｡.
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040.
POOR LITTLE LOIS.
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——

Lois gasped and spluttered as she rose to the surface, kicking her legs and waving her arms in desperation. She gagged as more pool water lodged itself down her throat and burned her eyes, unable to do anything but cry out in fear. This was it.

The nightmares were coming true.

Her head went under water once again and she choked on it, the sight of drunk teenagers blurring between her tears mixed with the chlorine in her eyes. She didn't know her left from her right, or her up from her down, because she could only see the water and darkness. So much water, as though she were stuck in the ocean. Perhaps her eyes were playing more cruel tricks on her, or maybe all large planes of water looked the same when you were drowning in them, but Lois was convinced that it was an exact replica of that day. She was nine again, and she was drowning.

"Lois—!"

The voice rang clear in her ears, and soon her body was no longer tired with paddling and kicking. She wasn't sure when it had happened, or how, but now Lois was on the patio of Lydia's garden in the arms of Scott McCall. Lois held onto him tightly, clutching onto his jacket so firmly, the material between her fingers and fists — that she thought it might rip.

"Are you okay?" Scott panicked even though he got no response other than a weak cry and a shake of her head. Her heartbeat was unlike anything he had heard, "Hey— it's alright,"

He rubbed her back as she sobbed, pool water still leaking from the ends of her hair and into her eyes, her clothes soaked and sticking to her skin. She was getting him drenched also, with both tears and chlorine, but he didn't seem to mind. Instead, Scott had gently hushed her and held her close to him after checking her over for any physical injuries. When his friend appeared to be unharmed other than the liquid in her lungs, he pried himself out of her grip to take off his jacket and drape it over her shoulders. His arms returned to wrap around her and he slowly guided her inside of the house and up the stairs, glaring darkly at anyone who dared to look at them.

When they reached the top, Scott's eyes scanned across the landing in hopes of locating a bathroom to find Lois a towel, a sound of realisation passing his lips when he heard a flush and a drunk boy came stumbling out of the last door. He moved them into the space, helping her sit on the rim of the bathtub.

Peeling the thoroughly soaked jacket off of her body, Scott dropped it into the bath and replaced it with a towel from the heating-wrack. He gently rubbed her biceps to warm her up; she was freezing, her lips trembling and blue, and that worried him.

It took a while for Lois to stop shaking, but she eventually did. Her breathing started to slow and Scott could no longer smell the anxiety and fear radiating from her, nor could he see the trail of black, mascara-laced tears gathering at her chin. The girl was much calmer now, the shock wearing off. Lois squeezed the towel tightly in her hands and held it up to her chin, soaking up Scott's warmth and sniffling every couple of seconds.

"You scared me, back there."

His tone was soft.

Lois didn't say anything, she couldn't find it within herself to say something. She was shaken from what she had seen, scared that her mother would pop up again and she would have to live out that memory, once more. It had been worse than a dream, that time, because it had been real. Lois had nearly drowned for the second time in her short life, and she was terrified that it would happen again.

She wasn't sure that she could go through all of that, again. A third break, and there would be no hope in mending her.

"I should find Lydia," Scott spoke more to himself than to Lois, not wanting to overwhelm her. "You can't really stay in clothes that are soaking wet, I don't want you to catch a cold."

Lois hummed a short reply under her breath and let him step away, only a fraction, like he was testing whether or not she would break within the support. When the brunette managed to stay up right and not break into another round of sobs, Scott sent her a smile that warmed her heart. He was golden.

"I'll be right back, okay?" He told her, "As quick as I—"

A shriek from down the hallway caused his head to snap up, the expression on his face growing into one of worry. The same girl screamed again and this time Lois had heard it too, the duo both recognising it instantly.

Scott bolted for the door and threw it open, heading out into the corridor to find where the screams were coming from. No longer in her daze, but rather with adrenaline surging through her veins, Lois sprung up and followed closely behind her friend, slipping on the wooden floors as the water dropped from her dress. Lois ignored how sore her limbs were from kicking around frantically and helped Scott check each room around them, until the duo shot through the last one, recoiling when a book hit the wall by the side of their heads.

"Luna! Luna—stop! It's me—!"

   Lois ducked again when another large item was thrust in what happened to be her direction, eyes wide.

   She had expected to see a drunk girl throwing a fit, or perhaps someone being murdered right in front of her very eyes. What Lois hadn't expected to find, was Luna Thomas screaming and crying, throwing any object that she could get her hands on, with Stiles Stilinski trying to calm her down. Lois didn't know where the sudden breakdown had come from; Luna hadn't drank a lot through the night, and she had been fine before Lois' own episode.

   Then again, Stiles had been fine the last time that she had seen her him before finding Scott trying to sober him up, and Lois herself had felt fine before nearly drowning in the pool.

   It wasn't the alcohol; it was something in the punch.

"Luna, it's me!" Stiles tried again, "It's Stiles!"

This time, Luna hesitated before launching another item at the wall. It seemed that he had finally gotten through to her, her eyes returning their usually calm blue. The blonde's arm slowly fell back to her side, looking around at the mess she had made and then to the boy who loved her more than life itself.

She whimpered, "Stiles?"

"Yeah, it's me..." He whispered, taking a few slow and cautious steps towards her. When she didn't flinch away, Stiles carefully removed the ornament from her hand and placed it back on the side. "You're alright, it's only me."

The minute that his fingers intertwined with hers, Luna fell into his arms. She let out a cry that broke Lois' heart, one that she could only ever wonder what had caused it, the place of deep despair that it had come from. It reminded Lois that she wasn't the only one with problems, issues that plagued her mind and fears that controlled her every wake, and she suddenly felt stupid.

They were all suffering.

Stiles held his girlfriend close, sighing in relief. He used his free hand to rub soothing circles on her back, and peppered light kisses along her forehead. What was happening to them?

He breathed into her shoulder and lifted his head, gaze floating to the door. There stood Lois and Scott, looking just as relieved that the blonde was alright as he felt, though his brows furrowed when he realised that the brunette was dripping wet and slightly pale in the face. Stiles' natural instinct was to rush over and see if she always alright; Lois had been his best friend for as long as he could really remember, which meant that he knew everything about her. He had been their when her fear of water had started, by her side watching films when she had to claim she was sick whenever anyone had a pool party, holding her hand at their mothers' funerals. He had always been there.

But now, Stiles had Luna in his arms. He couldn't simply rush over to Lois and inspect her for injury or trauma, and Lois seemed to notice this. He looked torn, he felt torn, and she didn't want him to feel that way. Stiles loved Luna, and right now she needed him.

"I'm okay," she assured gently, voice low but he had heard it. Stiles bit his lip hesitantly, and Lois shook her head while she forced a smile, "It's okay, Stiles— I'm alright."

And she meant it. While Lois, deep down, was anything but okay, she refused to let herself get in the way of his life.

They were best friends; two peas in a pod. But one day, they wouldn't be around each other all the time. They wouldn't live next to each other, anymore, and they wouldn't climb through their windows and sneak out in the middle of the night to try and solve his father's cases. One day, it would be different.

Stiles would head off to college and join the FBI, get married and have kids while living his days doing what he loved most. It would be hard to fit time into his schedule to see Lois every day like the pair had always done, he would no longer drive his jeep and save up for a new car, one that had seats for his wife and children, not for Lois and Scott. Lois would probably find a man or a lady to love too, while she studied whatever seemed right, and then things would really change.

One day, Stiles and Lois would probably have different lives. No longer neighbours, no longer trouble makers. It would all be different to how it was now, and she didn't know where they would end up in twenty years, but she did know one thing.

They would always be there for each other. Though it may be hard to find the time, they may not be able to crawl through each other's window and fall asleep beside them, Lois would always be there for Stiles when she needed him. Whether it was heartbreak, grief, losing a job, or just missing her. She'd be there.

Lois Lane was always going to be there for Stiles. And he would be there for her, too. Always.

• • •

They couldn't find Lydia Martin, anywhere.

She wasn't in her room, in the garden, making more punch as the last batch was running out. Lydia was nowhere to be found. For the first time ever, she wasn't at her own party. She left.

While Stiles calmed Luna down and managed to sober her up, as well as clear the mess that had been made, Lois had travelled into Lydia's bedroom. She used her hairdryer to try and make her hair less damp and crunchy, and taken off what was left of her makeup with Lydia's makeup wipes. Lois was glad that she had brought a spare set of underwear and socks, having planned to stay the night at her friends home, and threw on the jeans and top she had worn earlier that day.

With a spritz if Lydia's new perfume to cover the smell of chlorine, Lois travelled downstairs and had helped started looking for the strawberry blonde. She would occasionally tell some kid to stop throwing vases and get out of the fridge, but anywhere she went, Lydia wasn't there. It was as though she had vanished.

Lois ran a hand through her hair and sighed, spinning slowly in her foot in hopes of seeking her out in the crowd. They needed to know what Lydia had put in the punch and why they were all seeing things — why they felt like they were going crazy.

It wasn't just them, either. Every teenager in that room who had drank the lunch had now lost their minds. They were like animals, wolves trapped and deprived of the light of the moon and then released, left to turn rabid when it was high in the sky. Lois had been to parties before, probably a lot more than she had wanted to, and she had seen people when they were drunk. She had been drunk many times, and in turn, she knew how drunk teenagers usually acted. What was happening right now, that wasn't down merely to the influence of alcohol. It was like some sort of drug, a hallucinogenic, making them see things that weren't real and making them act even worse than they did when drunk.

They needed to know what she had put in that punch, before someone got seriously hurt.

"I can't find Lydia, anywhere." Lois admitted defeat as she walked up to where Scott had been looking on the patio, arms crossed. "Why would she leave her own party?"

"No idea, but we can't find her, either." Stiles responded for the werewolf as he joined their little group, Luna at his side. He glanced around at the party-goers that were stood by the pool, a frown on his face as he observed the madness that lingered around them. "Dude, anyone who drank that crap— they're freaking out."

Scott sighed, "I can see that."

"Allison must have gone home," Luna pitched in, her voice calm as to not let Scott panic. With the current situation, she knew that he would worry about her. "Her car isn't outside and she hasn't been answering her phone."

"I'm sure she's fine," Lois assured the boy on her left.

"Allison's kickass, alright? She'll be okay—" the son of the sheriff agreed, looking out at the crowd. He cringed when two teenagers started running and hollering, launching themselves into the pool and watching as more kids started to follow. Stiles sighed and turned back, "—they, however, aren't so kickass. I think we should be worrying about whatever the hell Lydia put in that punch. What are we supposed to do?"

Taking a step away from the water, despite being nowhere near it, Lois found herself feeling sea-sick as the teenagers threw themselves into the water with laughs and screams. She was still shaken from the events of earlier and she subconsciously moved closer to Scott, scared that she would be scooped up in the hustle and bustle of the crowd and fall in, once again.

Scott noticed but didn't say anything about it.

"I don't know," he shook his head in response to Stiles' earlier question, biting his lip as he tried to figure out a solution, "But we've got to—"

"I can't swim!"

Lois' head flew to find Matt, the sound of his voice echoing through her soul. He sounded terrified.

"No, no—" he cried out as he was lifted into the arms of three teenager boys, carrying him towards the pool. Matt kicked and caught but they continued to laugh and ignore him, ready to throw him in. Lois gaped in shock as he started to yell even louder, the desperation hitting her deep, "No! No, stop! Guys—!"

He couldn't swim.

Matt may have been a creep that had taken photos of her without her knowing, but Lois Lane knew what it was like. He couldn't swim, even at the age of sixteen, and she understood that. While it was fun and games to everyone else, it wasn't funny to her. She wasn't fond of the boy — not even close! — but she didn't want him to be traumatised by the water, if he wasn't already. Of course Lois didn't know his life, nor did she know why he couldn't swim, but that didn't mean that she was going to sit by and watch as he was thrown into his worst nightmare. Lois knew how it felt to fall into water when she couldn't swim; it wasn't fun.

Before she had really registered what she was doing, Lois was charging forward and yanking the back of one of the boys' shirts, trying to get them to release him.

"Hey! Get off of him!" Lois yelled, "He said he can't—!"

But Lois was ignored, and Matt was thrown in.

She watched in horror as he hit the water, falling under for a free seconds before he popped back up and spluttered, "I can't swim!"

Matt caught up in the depths again, choking for air and then sinking again, and again, every time desolately reaching out to find something to grab onto, someone to pull him out, but no one did. Everyone just stood and watched.

"I can't swim!" He cried, "I can't! I can't—"

Lois span around, her heart racing. He had done her wrong, he had basically stalked her, but she couldn't just leave him to drown. She couldn't, it would have been so wrong, but Lois also couldn't jump in after him. No matter how much her bones ached for her to. If she jumped in, they both would have wound up drowning in the depths of Lydia Martin's pool.

"Somebody do something!" Lois shrieked, waving her hands wildly while all of the teenagers stared emptily, "What is wrong with you all? He's drowning! Scott—!"

As she went to call for the teen wolf, another splash sounded alongside a gasp for air. Lois turned back to find that Jackson had been the one to pull Matt out of the water, stood by his side like a loyal guard dog while the boy shivered and sniffled. The water poured from his clothing and Lois was suddenly unable to speak, unable to ask if he was alright. She was too busy gaping at the fact that Jackson Whittemore had been the one to help him. Jackson didn't help anyone. Lois couldn't believe her eyes.

Noticing all of the eyes on him, Matt grit his teeth and the bone in his jaw feathered. He glanced around at the crowd and then at Scott, Stiles and Luna. And then at Lois. His eyes grew dark and she took a step backwards, nervously.

"What are you looking at?" He spat.

Matt looked at the group of teenagers once again, and then pursed his lips, storming out of the house with Jackson following behind him. Lois couldn't help but watch after him.

Even when the police sirens sounded and kids started to scream, rushing out of the Martin home in attempt to escape being told off for the noise, Lois' eyes remained fixated upon the door. She could hardly believe what had just happened. Matt couldn't swim and Jackson Whittemore, of all people, had been the one to save him from drowning. He had saved him.

"I think I know who's controlling Jackson," she spoke out loud, slowly turning to look at her friends.

Judging by their faces, they had figured it out as well.

Scott nodded, "It's Matt."

——

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