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.

By TexasWatermelon


Something was up. Cindy could tell by the "I'm not supposed to say" look that was on Jill's face when she made the previous statement about Lindsay's behavior that day. She suspected that Jill was horrible at poker, because the girl couldn't hide her facial expressions to save her life. She decided to take a more direct approach to the subject.

"What's up with her?" Jill bit her lip as though trying to decide whether or not she should spill Lindsay Boxer's personal issues to the young reporter.

"Look," she said finally with a sigh, "Lindsay's a complicated girl. She doesn't like people to get close to her, even her own friends." Cindy contemplated that with that quirky investigative look that Jill often caught her with whenever she was trying to figure something out or gathering information.

"That seems to be a theme in this club," was what the redhead came up with. The fact that she still called it a "club" was innately cute to Jill, but she didn't miss the slight barb in that statement. She just chose to ignore it. "You aren't exactly share-friendly either."

"Yeah, well people haven't really given me a reason to trust them in life," Jill replied, purposely gazing past Cindy's head. The reporter knew that she was probing where probes weren't welcome, but that was the life she lived anyway.

"A life without trust… sounds pretty lonely," she said.

"It was," Jill said wistfully. She was so transfixed on the wall behind Cindy that she didn't notice the redhead move from her previous spot, nor did she notice the space next to her being filled until a small hand was fitted in her own, fingers entwined tightly. Jill's eyes flicked up to meet Cindy's, warm and honest, and just a little too naïve.

"The thing about being a good reporter is that you have to get people to trust you. You can't do that, you don't get your story. And when you do get your story, you have to be able to know what to print, and what to keep secret," Cindy explained softly. "Any secrets you have… are safe with me."

Jill smiled her sweet, sad smile and placed the tiniest of kisses on Cindy's cheek.

"I know." And with that, she walked away.

The End

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