TITLE: House Arrest (28/35)
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.  

(1/1 – LINDSAY’S POV)

“Cindy’s arraignment is scheduled for nine. If all goes as planned, she should be free and home by eleven.”

“That’s great,” Lindsay said so half-heartedly, she may as well have not said anything at all.

“Something wrong?” Claire asked, in one of her many tones of concern, turning away from the stove.

“It’s just been a long week with… everything,” Lindsay responded.

It must have appeased Claire, because she turned back to the sauce she was stirring.

Cindy was sitting in the living room with the boys watching football, sharing the sofa with Nate and Luke. Something satisfactory happened on the screen, and Luke jumped up from his seat to reach across Nate and Cindy and high-five Ed. Cindy grinned at them. It was the first time Lindsay had seen her really smile since they’d imploded. But then Cindy caught her watching from the doorway. Her smile faded and she turned her eyes back to the TV.

This was everything Lindsay had feared. The distance between them. The loss. This couldn’t happen. Didn’t Cindy realize how much she needed her? Then again, why would she? It wasn’t like Lindsay was exactly candid with those kinds of feelings. She’d actually spent more time trying to make Cindy see that she didn’t need her than that she did. But that was before, and she’d been better about expressing herself lately. Hadn’t she?

“Thanks for coming over here, you guys. I think Cindy needed to see some people… besides me.”

“You two getting tired of each other already?” Jill asked, sharing a sidelong glance with Claire.

Lindsay forced a laugh, and both Jill and Claire looked at her in a way that said it was really obvious.

“Ready to eat?” Claire asked.

“Yeah,” Lindsay responded, glad to have a change of subject. “Whenever.”

“Everyone get a plate,” Claire called loudly enough to rouse the patrons of the living room.

There was a flurry of activity and Lindsay moved out of the doorway.

Jacobi made it to the food first, but let the kids go in front of him. Claire handed Nate an extra plate to take into Ed. When Jacobi got his food and turned to go back into the living room, he paused long enough to give Lindsay his “are you alright” look from across the kitchen. Lindsay smiled, but shook her head. She wasn’t going to lie to him. He nodded back and left it at that.

Lindsay was glad to see that something in the spread appealed to Cindy and she was eating by choice. But Cindy would barely look at her when she came into the kitchen. She talked to Claire and Jill quite normally though. Lindsay stood on the outskirts of the half circle, feeling like an outsider.

“You want to stay in here with the girls for a while?” Jill asked Cindy.

“Good spot, good game, good company. I’m going to have to take a rain check,” Cindy said and went back into the living room.

Luke was the last one back out of the kitchen. Lindsay watched the way he glanced over at Jill, the way she glanced back. She was so glad they’d gotten past everything that happened with Hanson. When Luke left the room, Lindsay seized the opportunity while Jill and Claire were getting food.

“Luke forgave you,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Yeah, hence his presence here,” Jill said, confused.

“Why did Luke forgive you?”

“Gee, thanks for keeping the faith, Linds.”

“No, I’m not trying to say that he shouldn’t have. What made him forgive you?” Lindsay asked.

“I don’t know,” Jill said, abandoning her search for the most delectable choices on the counter to look over at Lindsay. “I begged, explained that it was just a stupid mistake.”

“And you weren’t in love with Hanson.”

“Well, obviously.”

“It would have been harder wouldn’t it, if it had been love?” Lindsay asked, comprehension dawning. She felt as if she had a light bulb glowing above her head.

“Probably. I guess,” Jill responded, looking worried. “Linds, do you want to talk about something?”

“Not today,” Lindsay said, shaking her head.

At least not with them. She just wanted to talk to Cindy. She could fix this. She could see that now.

But the opportunity didn’t come up until late in the evening, when their last guests, Claire and her family, finally left. Nate didn’t want to give Cindy up for the night. Who could blame him?

After she saw them to the door, Lindsay took a deep breath and went back into the living room. Cindy wasn’t hiding behind her laptop for once. She was just sitting there as if waiting for this.

“I want us to talk,” Lindsay said.

She was nervous. She hated being nervous. It was absolutely not her.

Much to her relief Cindy nodded.

“But can I go first?” she asked.

Lindsay sat down with a nod. This was better. This was familiar, Cindy actually wanting to talk. Maybe they were back on track. Or maybe they could get back on track. Maybe they could get back on track and be kissing again before the end of the night. Because that was good. The kissing was good, and right, and even though it hadn’t been going on all that long, she missed it like crazy.

“I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Lindsay’s heart dropped into her stomach, and neither of those organs felt as if they were in very good condition.

“You mean the way they were before they got weird or the way they were before?” she asked carefully.

“The way they were before,” Cindy responded in a whisper.

And Lindsay’s chest was now aching too, and her lungs were, and every other part seemed to be struggling to keep working normally.

“You mean, you want us to go back to being friends?”

“If we can,” Cindy said, looking truly worried for the first time.

“We can,” Lindsay said quickly.

Because it was better than nothing. It was better than Cindy not being in her life. Not that this was anything less than excruciating, but that… that would have been completely unbearable.

Cindy looked relieved. She even smiled. She smiled a real smile. She was glad that this was over. Over. For Cindy, it was. And she was happy about it.

“Okay, good,” she said.

“Okay.”

Lindsay didn’t know how she got her lips to form the sound.

“I’m going to work,” Cindy said casually, hoisting the laptop into her lap and turning it on.

“Okay,” Lindsay repeated.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Obviously, she had seriously misjudged what was bothering Cindy. Maybe Cindy had decided that this was a mistake, that she was a mistake. Maybe she was going to be a regret, just like the last girl. Or maybe Cindy wouldn’t have to regret her, because they were friends. Maybe Cindy could just write this off as a fleeting thing, a fling, a… nothing.

Lindsay’s eyes trailed down to the floor and she noticed the cuff on Cindy’s ankle. It’s all she could notice. Cindy had been shackled to her, but now she was free to go. She wanted to go.

Lindsay got up out of the chair. It felt like she was moving on autopilot. It took her a few minutes to remember where she’d hidden the key, and she wandered aimlessly before she found it in a box in her closet.

Cindy barely glanced up at her as she moved toward the couch, only giving her full attention when Lindsay was bearing right down on her.

“I just…” Lindsay said, pointing to the cuff.

Cindy smiled. Again, she smiled, as if it were easy, and put her foot up on the table.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Lindsay had way too much experience at faking normalcy. This was worse than usual.

“I’m not going to risk an extended sentence now,” Cindy joked.

An extended sentence here with her. No, Cindy wouldn’t risk that.

The key felt like it didn’t fit, Lindsay was having such a hard time getting it to work. Then, finally, it found its place and the cuff fell open in her hand.

“Free at last,” Cindy said.

Free from her.

“I’m going to bed.”

“It’s nine o’clock.”

“I know. But I’m tired.”

“Okay,” Cindy conceded. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Lindsay muttered.

She walked into the bedroom and shut the door, holding onto it to keep from falling.

When her marriage failed, and other relationships failed, a big part of it was her. She knew that. She was detached sometimes, out of touch with her own feelings. But not this time. She knew what this was. She knew what she felt. She was in. She was all in. But Cindy was out. So, what was she supposed to do now?