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: I couldn’t let the moment go at the end of the last episode “FBI Guy.” The look on Cindy’s face was so intense and Lindsay looked so lost that I felt like something had to happen after that.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Cindy stood by the window in Lindsay's living room. Jill and Claire were saying their goodbyes while she pretended to be finishing her drink. She couldn't bring herself to leave, not yet. She had never seen Lindsay strong, tougher-than-nails Lindsay show any weakness or fear. Tonight, when they were all told the news of the Kiss Me Not killer, she looked like a child lost in the mall scared, alone, and vulnerable. It wasn't the woman she had fallen for, but she couldn't help but love this version of Lindsay even more.
Lindsay 2.0 made Cindy feel something deeper, more intense. It was an emotion that had never been elicited from her by anyone before protectiveness. Her intimidating, fearless cop friend had spent her life looking out for everyone except herself. She was even willing to let this monster destroy her if necessary as long as it stopped him from hurting anyone else. But whoever looked out for Lindsay? And not in a fatherly way like when Tom hid her away. But in a way that set her free and made her safe to let her guard down.
She read it all in Lindsay's body language. The way she slumped down in the oversized leather chair, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around own body as if she was trying to fight a chill that only she could perceive. It made sense now why Lindsay shut them out. It wasn't just a way to protect her friends, but also herself.
It wasn't until she felt the silky strands of ebony hair against her fingers did she realize that she was reaching out to Lindsay. She stopped before she made the mistake of waking her. This was too much and not what Lindsay needed right now. She made a move to grab her purse and leave.
"Don't stop," long fingers reached out and grabbed her wrist. She was pulled around to the front of the chair, where she could stand between Lindsay's long, jean clad thighs. Cindy held it together until she looked up into warm eyes. The tears welled up in her own eyes and suddenly she was choking back sobs.
Images flashed in her mind of what she had seen the Kiss Me Not killer do to his victims and she saw Lindsay's beautiful face mangled, her rich dark eyes cold with death, the lips she had dreamed of kissing sealed shut for eternity. She struggled against the arms circling her, heard her voice raw with fear as Lindsay tried to calm her.
"I can't lose you," Cindy gasped out between sobs.
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise," fingers stroked slow and steady through her hair, until her breathing leveled out and the tears subsided. Cindy nestled her cheek against the warm skin of Lindsay's exposed chest. Her arms wrapped loosely around the taller woman's waist while her hands started to trace invisible lines in random patterns along her back. She reveled for a moment in the sensation before it hit her that she had fallen apart in her friend's arms. So much for being strong for Lindsay, she chided her own weakness.
It was a fleeting thought that disappeared like ether when she felt a reciprocated touch of a hand caressing the base of her neck sending tingles down into her toes. Cindy understood that being strong and fearless took many different forms because it took everything she had not to crumble into a million pieces from the sensations a mere touch from Lindsay elicited from her body.
Little did she know that at that very moment Lindsay felt ten feet tall and invincible. She needed Cindy to need her, tonight more than ever.
Return to Women's Murder Club Fiction
Return to Main Page