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.
Lindsay was not in the mood for this. She was exhausted, out of coffee, out of leads, and pissed off that everywhere she turned she found Heather and Tom practically screwing against whatever surface they were near. Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, but really, what was she doing here all the time? And now Cindy had her cornered in the break room, spouting off about something or other related to asshole editors, blocking her path to the coffee, and Lindsay just wasn't in the mood. And then Tom walked in.
Whatever insanity suddenly possessed her, Lindsay would later decide, was evil, but as she put her hand on Cindy's cheek, the reporter finally shut up, giving her a wildly confused look. Tom, too, stopped in his tracks.
"Cindy, I can't stop thinking about you," Lindsay admitted. The redhead's jaw practically dropped, and Lindsay used the opportunity to dip her head in and capture the girl's lips for a fleeting couple of minutes, actually, because it was soft and honest and good. When they pulled away, Lindsay didn't expect to be quite as dazed as she was, but the spell was quickly broken as Tom cleared his throat.
"Uh, don't mind me I just need coffee," he said awkwardly. The full capacity of Lindsay's actions finally hit her as she watched the deliriously happy smile on Cindy's face slowly fade into a look of pure hurt.
"Yeah Lindsay," she said quietly. "Me either." Lindsay watched her walk away, feeling guiltier than she ever had in her life.
She'd only been through the morgue doors ten seconds before she found herself being dragged into Claire's office, the door slamming shut behind them as she was thrown down onto the couch.
"Are you completely psychotic, or are you just that much of a bitch?" Claire asked, giving Lindsay a look that made her feel like she'd just been caught stealing by her mother.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to play stupid.
"Oh come on, Lindsay, the whole station's talking about your little kiss with Cindy," Jill told her. Lindsay sighed.
"Look, it wasn't that big of a deal, I was just trying to piss Tom off a little," she said. Claire glared.
"Do you realize that poor girl sat here for nearly an hour and cried?" Lindsay winced.
"She cried?" she asked guiltily. Claire nodded.
"She obviously has a crush on you, Lindsay. You broke her heart," Jill said calmly in that voice that made Lindsay feel like she was the stupidest person in the world. Lindsay cast her eyes down to the floor and sighed.
"I'll go apologize."
"Go away," Cindy ordered, peering through the tiny crack in her apartment door.
"Cindy, please," Lindsay pleaded.
"Go," Cindy repeated. Lindsay bit her lip.
"I brought ice cream," she offered. Cindy glared at her for a second before shutting the door. Lindsay sighed for about the twentieth time that day, thinking that she may have actually screwed up for good, before she heard the latch slide. The door opened fully this time and Cindy stood aside to let her in. Lindsay stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands stuffed in her pockets. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used you like that today." Cindy looked at her dully, still suspicious. "If it makes you feel any better, I kind of liked the kiss." Cindy's gaze softened a bit and she stole the ice cream out of Lindsay's hand.
"Have a seat," she said, moving into the kitchen for spoons. Lindsay smiled and did just that.
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