DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. Rizzoli & Isles and its characters are the property of Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT television network. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To Demeter94[at]yahoo.de
SERIES: Falling Dreams Series

By Demeter


"I'm as good as new," Abbie claimed as she set the coffee pot in front of her granddaughter. "You've been driving for hours. I am much more rested than you."

With a wry smile, Lindsay acknowlegded the truth of Abbie's words, gratefully inhaling the scent of the coffee, her tired body taking interest at the prospect of caffeine intake. "Thanks for having me," she said. "Especially since..."

Her words trailed off. Abbie sat in front of her, studying her late-night-guest intently. "Why wouldn't I? You're always welcome here, and so are your friends. You know that, right?"

"Sure." Lindsay dropped her gaze. The familiar scenery had the much hoped for calming effect. She'd sat at this table as a little girl, not a care in the world, when her parents' divorce and her mother's illness had not even been a threat on the horizon. Let alone serial killers and their admirers.

"I just wonder... all of this, it changes a lot."

"For me, it changes nothing," Abbie said firmly. "Marty, he may rest in piece, but he wasn't big on responsibility. Of course it didn't help that women kind of liked him."

Lindsay gave her a tired, but grateful smile. Truth be told, she'd been a little nervous on her way here, not sure how her grandmother would take the news. Well, technically Abbie wasn't even her grandmother, but she couldn't wrap her mind around that. No way.

"With the result that I inherited a somewhat crazy Italian-American family. I don't know. It'll take some time."

"Of course." Abbie poured more coffee for the two of them. "So, about your sister. You said she's a cop, too?"

"That's not the only thing we have in common. I'll show you pictures later. Cindy kissed her hello the first time she saw her. I can just imagine that scene." Her smile became a bit more genuine as she recalled Cindy, blushing as she stumbled through the confession of this hilarious story. Even though the circumstances hadn't been that funny.

Abbie chuckled. "You're making me curious. How's your spitfire?"

"Cindy is fine. Great, actually." It was quite remarkable how thinking of Cindy could make everything better. Abbie knew damn well – and she also knew that Lindsay needing this time-out so badly wasn't exactly the result of a cold.

"How are you, Lindsay?"

She realized quickly that she'd need some more time to talk about previous visits to Boston, the latest one, head over heels when Maura had called her about the hostage situation that had Jane injured and her – their- younger brother killed. The circumstances under which she and Jane had met in the first place was a whole different story.

"Ask me that tomorrow? The answer might differ."

"I got your usual room ready."

"Thank you."

They got up together, remained standing for a moment. Lindsay froze when her grandmother reached out to brush her hair aside. There were no more visible traces of her run-in with Hoyt's fans, but often, Abbie saw beyond the visible. She knew about trials, even though hers hadn't had much to do with murdering bastards.

"Another time," Lindsay whispered.

"Whenever you're ready."

Walking up the stairs to her room, Lindsay was looking forward to a few hours of uninterrupted rest, and a some days to her own. She was lucky, too, that Cindy understood.

After all... tomorrow is another day, she thought with some amusement at those words coming to mind.

The End

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