TITLE: Between the Shadow and the Soul (7/?)
PAIRING: A veritable clusterfuck… but there is only one way it can end up.
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.

*Hey, it’s only been like ten months since the last update of this story. I must be awesome! Anyway, sorry for the delay. I know that there is at least one of you who still cares though Sadly, if you try to go back to the older stories to catch up, you are going to find a bunch of random characters still plaguing them. I’ll try to remember to clean those up ASAP. But since I am currently doing battle with a hell beast and trying to earn enough money to buy sexy new furniture at IKEA, it might take some time.

Oh, and also… it’s late and I’m tired and I am the only person who has read this, so mistakes are not only possible but should probably be expected.*

(Jill’s POV)

The good news was that Lindsay was speaking to her again. The bad news was that it was in a completely professional manner that did nothing to ease Jill’s fear that their friendship was in serious jeopardy. Instead, the clipped, concise sentences Lindsay shot back every time that Jill got up the nerve to pretend that things were normal and speak to her were actually more disconcerting than the total lack of communication they’d shared up until this point. At least in silence she could pretend that Lindsay’s seething anger was only in her mind. It was considerably harder to ignore when it was radiating at her through Lindsay’s eyes and oozing through clenched teeth.

When the call came in informing them that the body of Corinne Stevens’ had been found in Lindsay’s bed, Jill had gotten a ride with Claire and they had come in together. Lindsay was still in the living room when they arrived, wandering aimlessly through, and ignoring all questions from, the swarm of officers that had taken over her apartment. Her pleading eyes had found Claire at once, somehow simultaneously managing to avoid Jill altogether. As they were given the rundown on the specifics regarding the discovery of Corinne Stevens’, the contrast between Lindsay’s manner of speaking when addressing Claire and Jacobi and even Tom and Lindsay’s manner of speaking when addressing her was so noticeable, Jill had received curious looks from several men in uniform and Jacobi had taken advantage of a moment of Lindsay’s distraction to come over and ask if the two of them were okay. Jill had shrugged in response, which provided Jacobi with all of the information she had. Clearly they weren’t and she had no explanation.

Claire had gone right to work, undoubtedly figuring that was the best thing that she could do for Lindsay in the moment, which meant that, when Lindsay finally escaped into the kitchen, Jill was left with no choice but to follow on her own or pretend that her best friend wasn’t in pain. Though she wasn’t sure which option was less likely to break the fragile threads holding the last, tattered scraps of their relationship together, she followed anyway.

When she stepped into the melancholic atmosphere of the apartment’s small kitchen, Lindsay didn’t send her away, but she didn’t open her arms either. The fleeting glance that she aimed in Jill’s direction quite succinctly expressed that, while Lindsay wouldn’t bar her entrance into the room, she would really prefer it if Jill didn’t go out of her way to make her presence known. So Jill didn’t. She didn’t utter a single word. But, even in silence, it was clear that her presence not only failed to bring solace, it seemed to increase Lindsay’s agitation.

If Jill had any idea that letting Cindy know how she felt about her would cause such a rift between she and Lindsay… she probably would have done it anyway. And that was what scared her the most. She wanted to be okay with Lindsay, but she wanted what she had the possibility of having with Cindy too. And, as responsible as she felt for whatever Lindsay was thinking and feeling, Jill was also getting angrier with each passing day that Lindsay made it impossible to have both. If Lindsay had a problem with her track record, she could at least give her a chance to make her case like Claire had and not just find her guilty of hurting Cindy before a crime even took place. Lindsay had probably never even considered that, maybe for the first time, Jill stood a better chance of getting hurt than doing any hurting.

But, thanks to everyone’s favorite serial killer, now was hardly the time to let Lindsay in on that little secret. Despite the fact that Kiss-Me-Not’s return to their lives and the discovery of his true identity should have been a mutual thing, considering what they had all endured together, and now was a time when they should have been banding together, Lindsay was in no more forgiving a mood than she had been that night in Cindy’s hospital room. She also clearly preferred Martha’s company to Jill’s. So Jill just continued to stand silently at her back so that Lindsay wouldn’t have to be reminded of her presence.

It was only when Cindy’s frantic voice came from the living room that Jill raised her eyes from the worn patch in Lindsay’s floor that seemed to get more tattered with each passing second. Cindy rounded the corner into the kitchen, and the relief at no longer being alone with Lindsay warred with the frustration that Cindy was, once again, bounding with vigor into an exceedingly stressful situation when she really should have been at home where she could heal.

But Lindsay was in need, so where else would Cindy be?

Cindy helped Lindsay. She had always helped Lindsay. She always would help Lindsay. It was like a calling for her. And Lindsay would always pretend that she didn’t want Cindy’s help while secretly being grateful that it was being offered and trusting no one more to provide it.

It was just their routine.

Jill guessed she should really have been grateful for Cindy’s proclivity to come to Lindsay’s aid. If she hadn’t always had such a compulsion, if she hadn’t stalked Lindsay into submission, then Jill probably never would have met her. If their paths had crossed, while she certainly would have taken notice, Jill would have put Cindy off as a reporter looking for nothing more than the next scoop, and therefore unbefriendable.

She never would have seen deeper shades, because she never would have looked for them. She never would have imagined the possibility that Cindy really did want to help. Though, sometimes it seemed Cindy mostly wanted to help Lindsay. And she always went so far out of her way to do it, risking too much, like, for instance, getting confidential records so that Lindsay could go after Billy Harris with as much information as possible. But the appreciation she got for the efforts was always so subdued that it was hard to believe it was ever worth it. And why any of this bothered Jill, she wasn’t entirely sure.

She had kissed Cindy. Cindy had responded. Jill had no reason to doubt her sincerity.

“Are you okay?” Cindy asked Lindsay in a voice so gentle it was as if she was speaking to a child.

Lindsay didn’t respond, and for a moment Jill could believe that she and Cindy were on the same level of Lindsay’s current list of dislikes. But then Cindy said Lindsay’s name and Lindsay looked up at her and actually spoke and Jill cringed at what exactly that meant for her.

She felt so much like the outsider in the room and wanted the moment to end so badly, it was almost as if she willed Claire into the kitchen and possessed her to tell Lindsay that Corinne Stevens was dead long before she could have done anything to stop it. But whether or not she had wished it into reality, Claire’s announcement had the most desired effect that Jill could have hoped for. Lindsay found her drive again and followed Claire back to the living room, freeing Jill from the pointed antipathy and leaving her alone in the kitchen with Cindy.

When she turned and found Cindy looking up at her, Jill feigned a smile that she knew Cindy wouldn’t believe, but hoped that she would chock up to the situation in which they found themselves and not the fact that she was in the midst of losing one of her best friends for a reason she couldn’t really explain or control.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, sliding into Cindy’s space and reaching out to lightly clasp a small wrist.

“I’m okay,” Cindy replied, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in her voice that proved the statement at least somewhat untrue.

Not that Jill would have bought it if she had tried to hide it.

“Would you please go home and get some rest?” Jill softly begged. “Please.”

“Well, since you said please. Twice.” Cindy’s mouth twisted upward into a hesitant grin and it took all of Jill’s strength not to reach out and run her thumb over the indentation.

“I just want you to get well.”

“I know,” Cindy returned softly, looking back at her in a way that caused Jill’s stomach to clench with a yearning she couldn’t quite identify. “That’s why I’m going home for real. Well, that and the fact that I feel a lot worse than I look.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

That earned Jill a playful swat to the arm and an authentic grin.

“Do you want me to drive you?” she asked, catching Cindy’s hand.

“No. I’ll be fine,” Cindy assured her. “And I promise to actually go there.”

“Wow, that’s progress,” Jill teased. “Is it okay if I come by when I’m done?”

“I wish you would.”

Cindy glanced toward the kitchen door and stepped forward, rising up to meet Jill in a fleeting kiss, and Jill felt all of the bad thoughts of moments before dissolve under soft lips.

“I’ll see you later,” Cindy whispered and disappeared back through the door, leaving Jill light-headed enough that she put her hand on the table to keep from teetering.

And, for just one instant, the world felt a little less heavy.