TITLE: House Arrest (31/35)
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.

(1/4 - Cindy’s POV)

Cindy knew who it was before she even went to the door. It was as if she could distinguish Lindsay’s knock, as if it had a special sound to it, which was ludicrous, but she still knew before she looked through the peephole exactly who would be standing there.

The idea of not answering the door was tempting, but she was well aware that, if Lindsay wanted in, she wouldn’t necessarily wait for a proper admittance. So, Cindy unlocked the door and pulled it open, and little by little Lindsay came into view, standing there dressed in a dark blue dress and the jewelry she’d given her, looking exceedingly beautiful. It took Cindy’s breath away, and she inwardly cursed herself for letting it have that effect on her.

A tan coat was hanging over Lindsay’s arm, and Cindy couldn’t help but hypothesize that Lindsay had removed it on purpose before knocking on the door, in an effort to greet her with this particular visual.

“Hi,” Lindsay said first, her voice every bit as tempting as her appearance.

“Hi,” Cindy said back, remembering to put on her most chipper demeanor.

“You forgot these at my place.”

Lindsay held up the symphony tickets.

“I didn’t forget them,” Cindy replied, keeping the smile glued on. “I thought you might have someone you could go with.”

“So did I,” Lindsay said quietly, her eyes tenderly analyzing.

They saw through Cindy’s façade, and she let the smile fade from her face and looked away.

“Can I come in?”

That was the worst idea Cindy had ever heard, and there was nothing she wanted more. She moved to the side and let Lindsay pass her.

But Lindsay didn’t go far. Cindy could feel her right behind her as she closed the door, and when she turned around, Lindsay reached out and touched her arm.

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Cindy said, moving further into the room and away from Lindsay’s touch. “And you?”

“Not fine.”

“Why?” Cindy asked, truly concerned. What’s wrong?”

“I miss you,” Lindsay said. Not quietly, not awkwardly, just outright, with a steady gaze that Cindy couldn’t look into.

“Living alone sucks,” Cindy said with a strained laugh. “You’ll get used to it again.”

“I don’t want to.”

Lindsay’s voice stayed silky, her eyes stayed fixed, and Cindy started to get angry. Why was she doing this to her?

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to,” she responded, dropping her congenial performance, and letting the fury propel her.

“Why?”

If there were something small and light within Cindy’s reach, Lindsay would be ducking.

“I know we’re friends,” Cindy bit out, “and I would do a lot for you, but I don’t want to be your forget fuck.”

“Is that what you think?” Lindsay asked, her voice decidedly less seductive. She sounded slightly angry herself.

Cindy crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the floor.

“Answer me,” Lindsay ordered, which only increased Cindy’s ire. “Is that really what you think I want from you?”

“I don’t know,” Cindy snapped. “What do you want?”

Lindsay’s skin flushed. She took a very heavy breath and expelled it slowly, and looked at Cindy with such aggravation, it became very clear that she’d done something wrong. She was expecting to be heatedly informed exactly what that was, but when Lindsay spoke, she didn’t sound irritated. She sounded sad… and confident… and hopeful, which Cindy really wasn’t used to hearing in her voice.

“Right now?” Lindsay responded simply. “I want you to go put on something nice so that I can take you to the symphony.”

Cindy’s heart skipped a few beats at the very straightforward request. She could have said no. She should have said no. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she found herself drifting in the direction of her clothes.

And she found herself looking for the brown dress that everyone always said looked amazing on her, and trying to find the matching wrap and the perfect earrings, and wondering if Lindsay liked her hair better down or up.

Then she was dressed and stepping back out for Lindsay’s inspection.

The inspector gave her a look that replaced any words she might have said, a look that made Cindy think that the dress looked amazing on her, that she’d picked the right earrings, and Lindsay definitely liked her hair down.

Lindsay put her hand out, and feeling like she was making the most important decision, or the worst mistake, of her life, Cindy took it.