TITLE: Paper Anniversary (8/?) <—-(You never know how long I might ramble.)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy – duh
SUMMARY: Lindsay and Cindy celebrate their anniversary. But which one?
NOTES: The is a sequel to House Arrest… as requested. For Nikky and anyone else who wanted, but was too shy to ask. Couldn’t relegate it to a one-shot though. I love this Lindsay and Cindy too much!
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. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) 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.

(December 26 – Cindy’s POV)

Cindy rolled toward the sound of the ringing phone, glancing at the clock with a reluctantly opened eye and a bad attitude. 6:30 am the day after Christmas. And after the Christmas she’d just endured, she wasn’t having it. Fumbling around and knocking several things off the bedside table, she finally got her hand around the phone cord, gave it an irritated tug and the phone fell silent.

But the reprieve didn’t last long. Thirty seconds later, Dolly Parton was singing about the repetitive horrors of working “9 to 5” from the living room, indicating that the call was for her and that it was coming from the offices of The Register.

“Dammit,” Cindy grumbled, forcing herself to the edge of the bed, and glancing over her shoulder. Apparently unaffected by the ringing of any phone, no matter how close by or how catchy, Lindsay remained log-like beneath the covers. Well, at least one of them could have an uninterrupted day after Christmas.

Dragging herself from the bed and into the living room, Cindy retrieved her cell from the coffee table, practically falling onto the couch to answer. Stopping just short of berating the caller with the brusque “What?!?” she was feeling, she took a deep, calming breath and managed a reasonably human “Hello.”

“Thomas.” Cindy recognized her editor’s voice at once, sounding as hard-edged and ready to work as it always did. “We’ve got a big story here. I’m going to need you to come in.”

Cindy blinked… once… twice… before she finally wrapped her mind around the statement. “No,” she said. “I’m off today.”

“No. You were off. Now you’re on. Someone’s got to cover this.”

“And it’s got to be me?” Cindy asked in a small voice.

As if sensing her plummeting mood, Martha meandered over, hopped up on the sofa, and laid her head in Cindy’s lap.

“I thought you’d jump on this, Thomas. Where’s your spirit?”

In the dumps, Cindy thought to herself. “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Rubbing Martha’s fur with one hand, she half-listened to the peppy encouragement from her editor before he finally hung up. She snapped her phone closed, glancing at the tree peevishly. It was always good to remember, when things seemed bleak, they could always get worse. Now she knew how the Grinch felt. Maybe next year, she’d just cancel Christmas.

Pushing a thwarted Martha off of her, Cindy grumbled her way to the kitchen, starting an extra strong pot of coffee, before heading for the shower. When she saw that Lindsay hadn’t budged, she had an immature urge to stomp her feet and bang doors, but did neither, instead letting Lindsay sleep in her peaceful cocoon while she showered in water that absolutely refused to get warm, got dressed in the dark, and downed a full mug of caffeine before realizing she was wearing two different shoes.

Feeling as if the fates were conspiring against her, Cindy went back into the bedroom, flipped on the closet light, found matching shoes, and went over to the Lindsay-sized lump in the bed.

“Linds,” she whispered, shaking her awake. The covers folded back and a tousled head appeared with a grunt. “I have to go to work.”

“I thought you were off today,” Lindsay yawned.

“Yeah, well, I was supposed to be. Now I’m not. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Lindsay caught her by the hand before Cindy could make a clean break. Tugging Cindy back down to the bed, Lindsay pulled herself up. Lindsay’s fingers were impossibly warm on the back of her neck as Lindsay’s lips met hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cindy said softly. She did. More than those simple words could express. But she also wanted to beat Lindsay senseless on occasion. “I’ll see you later.”

Lindsay watched her walk to the bedroom door and Martha saw her out, and Cindy emerged into the shockingly frosty air that made it all the more pleasant that she’d been called into work on her day off. She climbed into the driver’s seat of her as-of-yet-unnamed car, still too new to have earned a proper moniker, and turned the key. Nothing happened.

“Oh come on,” Cindy groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She tried once more to turn the ignition, and again the car didn’t even make an attempt at starting. Why would it?

Hands gripping the cold steering wheel, Cindy dropped her head against it, waiting for whatever was coming next. Lightning bolt… Earthquake… The old tree above her deciding this would be an ideal time to shed a branch and trap her inside her car…

Finally bowing to the reality that the ghost of Christmas present seriously had it in for her this year, Cindy crawled back out of her car and retraced her steps to the apartment. Martha, not understanding that this quick of a return couldn’t possibly be for any good reason greeted her at the door, tail wagging as rapidly as if she’d been gone all day.

Lindsay, on the other hand, was showing no such signs of enthusiasm as she walked into the bedroom.

“Linds, my car won’t start. Could I borrow yours?”

Lindsay materialized from the pile of covers at once. It took her a moment longer to actually respond.

“No, I need my car today, but I’ll drive you,” she bargained. “Just let me take a quick shower.”

“Can’t you take it when you get back?” Cindy queried, glancing at the bedside clock.

“Relax, I implore you, Lady Love,” Lindsay grinned, seeming surprisingly wide awake all of a sudden. “Give me five minutes.”

She bounced out of the bed and landed in the bathroom like she’d just been dosed with adrenaline, and, with no other options available to her, Cindy dropped down on the bed to wait.