DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
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Beneath The Veil
By Demeter
"What the hell are you doing, Lindsay?"
She didn't look up at him as she kept meticulously folding clothes and putting them into the suitcase. A tiny bit of structure in the midst of the chaos. "What does it look like?" she asked, wanting to act nonchalant. Failing. It came to her that he actually might not have any idea at all, and if that was the case, he'd been even better at denial than she had.
"Look," he said, reasonably, but with a hint of fear in his voice as he sat beside her, laying his hand on her arm. "It's over now. You caught the bastard. We made it, Linds."
"No, we didn't." Her voice cracked, but she pushed back the tears. The same way she'd done it for nearly seven years. It wasn't his fault, really. She hoped it wasn't hers alone, either, but who else was there to blame?
Tom sighed. "What's left to obsess over? You shot him before he could kill the girl. Doesn't that count for something?"
The girl. It made her smile though she had reason enough to cry. Nerves. Lindsay was well aware of the fact that she needed a break. Badly. Finally, she had the courage to look at him. It became clear how they'd once became friends, then lovers. He could still see through her.
"You spent the night with her again."
There was no point in denying.
He got up, slamming the door shut, making her flinch. When he turned to her again, though, his voice was calm as he said, "Okay. That doesn't mean we have to throw it all away. I know you feel obliged to her; you didn't see it right away that she'd gotten on Kiss Me Not's radar. You saved her, Linds. You've been boosting her career ever since, there is no need to feel guilty anymore!"
He didn't raise his voice, but Lindsay could easily tell that he was tempted. She considered his words. She'd felt guilty for a long time. Even now. At the same time, she knew she couldn't pretend any longer.
Lindsay closed the suitcase and picked it up.
"You don't understand. I'm leaving, Tom."
"You can't be serious. We could see a marriage counselor, we could--"
"I'm sorry," she said, and she truly was. Just for a split-second, Lindsay considered turning around, but then all their struggles, the arguments came to mind. It wouldn't change just because one particular killer was caught.
They both deserved being with someone who loved them for who they were. Someone who truly understood.
"Don't you love me?" He wasn't playing fair, and he knew it.
I do love you. I just love her more.
Lindsay saw no point in saying it out loud; it would have just been more hurtful. And he knew anyway.
She closed the door behind her, wistful and excited at the same time. The ghosts of the past receded in the rearview mirror on her way to the woman who was waiting for her on the other side of the city.
The End