TITLE: House Arrest (23/35)
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.

(12/29 – CINDY’S POV)

Okay. This room was Lindsay’s, the soft sheets were Lindsay’s, she was naked, and, she couldn’t help but notice every time she moved, slightly sore. What happened last night definitely happened last night, but maybe she had dreamed the very last part before she fell asleep. Because if she hadn’t dreamt it, if she had in fact laid bare her biggest fear, then there was no way she would be waking up in Lindsay’s bed… alone. That would just be too harsh, and, she hated thinking it, not terribly surprising. Though, she had really hoped…

She rolled to her back and images flashed through her mind. She couldn’t exactly regret it either. She just wished that Lindsay was still around. She trailed her knuckles up Lindsay’s side of the bed to her pillow, wishing that she would suddenly appear, and her hand hit paper. Surprised, she sat up in the bed, clutching the blankets around her and grabbed the small white sheet from Lindsay’s pillow.

Hey-

Our evidence came back from the lab, so I got called in. I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, but you looked so cute tucked under the blankets, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Don’t be mad. You’re the one who didn’t wake up to the annoying beep of my cell phone… or the sound of the shower… or me opening and closing drawers. You get the point.

I just wanted you to know that I really didn’t want to leave you. I’m sorry.

Call me when you wake up?

Lindsay

Cindy could be having some very serious, hardcore sex at the moment with a very beautiful woman she was very in love with. Or at least some very serious, hardcore conversation. If Lindsay were still at home, she would absolutely be doing one of those things. Instead, she had a little piece of paper in her hand apologizing for the fact that she couldn’t do either, and, somehow… it was better.