TITLE: House Arrest (3/35)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

(Cindy’s POV)

Cindy was flying. Well, not really flying, but every time she took a step, she seemed to be channeling Michael Jordan, because she could walk on air for a few steps, before she came gracefully back down. It was pretty awesome. When did she figure out how to defy gravity? And why did she keep hearing Lindsay whispering to her?

“Cindy,” the soft voice seemed to call from the clouds above her.

But she didn’t see Lindsay anywhere. It was just her alone, her newfound ability to air walk, and the voice.

“Cindy…”

“Cindy…”

“CINDY!”

And with that, Cindy fell right back to Earth and onto the sofa in Lindsay’s apartment, which apparently had grown less comfortable while she slept if the crick in her neck was any indication.

Since she was awakened before the sun had a chance to rise, Cindy could scarcely make out a Lindsay-shaped shadow above her.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily.

“Four-thirty,” Lindsay answered in a tone of voice that seemed to imply she didn’t find what she was saying completely absurd.

Cindy, on the other hand, could only hope she had heard wrong.

“Four-thirty?”

“Mm hm,” Lindsay’s utterance sounded somewhere in the darkness above her.

“Like a.m.?”

“Yeah, like a.m.”. Cindy thought she heard a chuckle in the response, but she was so half-there that she couldn’t be sure. “I got called in. But I wanted to make sure to give you this.”

Cindy reached up to grab the flash of white paper dangling above her.

“What is it?”

“Your chore list,” Lindsay responded.

“My what?” Cindy asked, hoping yet again that her hearing was still asleep.

“Chores,” Lindsay said, and started moving about the room, grabbing things like a badge and gun to add to her person. “They should keep you busy most of the day.”

Cindy was too pre-occupied staring at the list in her hands to respond. She couldn’t read a word of it, but there was just enough light coming in through the window to see that it took up the majority of the page.

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home, but there’s food in the kitchen, and if none of that’s appealing or still good, there are take out menus for every restaurant that delivers around here on the refrigerator.”

Cindy sort of heard what she was saying, but it all jumbled together and sounded a lot to her like the wicked witch of the west saying, “I’ll get you, my pretty,” and cackling gleefully.

“Are you still awake?” Lindsay asked a few seconds later, following Cindy’s complete lack of response.

“I’m awake,” Cindy said, though she really wished she weren’t. What she really wanted was for the fly-walking she was doing a few minutes before to be her reality and this to be the dream she was going to wake up from. She knew, though, no matter how tightly she shut her eyes, when she opened them, it was still going to be pre-dawn and the list was still going to be there.

“Don’t forget about your anklet,” she heard Lindsay add.

“How could I forget about it?”

She didn’t need to see Lindsay’s face. She could hear the smirk in her voice.

“If you go five feet in any direction from this apartment, you will set off the alarm and get unis out here, which will annoy my neighbors, which will, in turn, annoy me.”

“I’ll be good,” Cindy said, more to spare herself what would surely be a long-winded sermon than to offer Lindsay assurance.

“I seriously doubt that,” Lindsay said, pulling her jacket on by the door, “but whatever you do, do it inside this apartment.”

As soon as she heard Lindsay open the door, Cindy let her eyes fall closed. When Lindsay said her name again, she moaned and struggled to lift her head off the pillow. She glanced over at Lindsay in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the lights in the hall. She looked ethereal, like an angel… or the anti-Christ. It only took her speaking for Cindy to decide which one.

“You didn’t really think you were getting a free ride, did you?” she queried and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Hell minion,” Cindy muttered and dropped her head back onto her pillow.