TITLE: Between the Shadow and the Soul (11/24)
PAIRING: A veritable clusterfuck… but there is only one way it can end up.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never was. Never will be. No profit. Just love.

(Lindsay’s POV)

The hospital seat was pulling double-duty. Apart from its intended purpose of keeping distraught family and friends off of the floor, where Lindsay well knew that she would be at the moment without some form of support, the hard molded plastic was also managing to etch pain into her body, still sore from its recent fight, in every spot with which it came into contact. Which was the only thing assuring Lindsay that she was still alive. Because, aside from the dull, constant ache radiating throughout her lower half, she felt nothing.

It was just too much at once. There were just too many things. And, as she’d been chauffeured to the hospital in the passenger seat of Claire’s car, she’d reached the threshold where it was easier to turn off altogether than try to keep herself running on empty.

It was actually a rather nice change. If she could just stay this numb forever, all of her problems would be solved.

“Lindsay.”

Not sure if the voice was real or conjured from the place inside where it always seemed to play on repeat these days, Lindsay raised her eyes from dingy white tiles and watched Cindy’s tentative approach. Heart catching at the mere sight of her, Lindsay realized that she wasn’t nearly numb enough.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Cindy returned quietly, not stopping until she was standing right at Lindsay’s knee. Close enough to touch. If Lindsay could just find the courage to do it. “Where’s Claire?”

“Uh…” Lindsay started, distracted by Cindy’s mere proximity. She couldn’t recall the last time they’d been this physically close, or if it had made her quite this dizzy. “She’s calling Ed.”

Without being asked, and despite all that Lindsay had done and said, Cindy sat down beside her anyway. The inch gap between the seats was the only thing separating them, but it felt more like a canyon. And, no matter how hard she squinted, Lindsay couldn’t see to the other side.

“Have you heard anything?” Cindy asked.

“Not yet,” Lindsay answered.

Cindy’s head bobbed lightly in reaction, and Lindsay watched the small up and down movement as if it was a performance on a stage. Eyes moving over the shadowed contours of Cindy’s face, she took in every tiny detail, all those that she had already memorized and all those that she had somehow failed to notice. When exactly perfection for her became every infinitesimal flaw on Cindy’s face, she couldn’t say exactly, but she knew that every beautiful thing she encountered for the rest of her life would be held to this standard.

It was only when Cindy glanced her way and caught her in the act that Lindsay realized what she was doing, and how blatantly she’d been doing it. Afraid of what might happen if she didn’t, Lindsay pulled her eyes away, directing them back to the floor.

“Where’s Jill?” Remarkably, she delivered the query mildly.

“Home,” Cindy responded. “She doesn’t think that you want her here.”

Beneath Cindy’s clear confusion on the subject, Lindsay could hear the underlying frustration as well. As if Cindy didn’t understand. Which was good.

And bad.

At the moment, Lindsay wanted Cindy to know. She wanted to explain. She wanted to tell Cindy everything, to get it all out in the open.

And she could.

She could tell Cindy right now. She could tell Cindy why she’d been acting so strangely, what had caused the rift in her friendship with Jill. And she could tell herself that Cindy had the right to know. And maybe she did. But, if she told Cindy, Lindsay knew that it wouldn’t be for Cindy’s sake. She would be doing it for her own salvation. It would be a not-so-subtle way of helping herself to another chance.

If she told Cindy the truth, Cindy would have a choice. But what if Cindy didn’t choose her?

What if she did?

“But you came?” Lindsay husked, looking up at the concerned eyes traveling over her face.

“Jill said I should.”

So, Cindy wouldn’t have been there without permission. Because her loyalty was to Jill.

Unconsciously, Lindsay’s eyes dropped to Cindy’s lips, only inches away. All it would take was a slight lean forward and she could test that loyalty. At any rate, everything would be out in the open.

Then, she could have everything.

Or she could lose everything.

Maybe it was worth the risk.

A heartbeat away from making a decision that changed her life for better or worse, Lindsay started when she heard her last name called. Eyes turning away from Cindy, and all of the torment and promise that she offered, Lindsay pushed up from her seat, deadened legs somehow raising her to her full height. The doctor’s approach was cold and clinical, almost robotic, but then Lindsay felt Cindy stand at her side, moving in closer so that the space completely disappeared and she could feel the warmth of Cindy’s body against her side.

“Are you here for Martin Boxer?” the doctor asked her.

“Yeah,” Lindsay whispered, voice shaking on the simple word. “I’m his daughter.”

The way that the doctor’s face instantly warped to pity, Lindsay didn’t need for him to speak, but it was his job to follow protocol. “I’m sorry. Your dad… he didn’t make it.”

After a few seconds, his mouth started to move again, but any additional words were lost in the whirring sound between Lindsay’s ears. Numb. Again. Except for two separate and distinct sensations. The firm, but gentle, grasp of Cindy’s fingers on her arm, holding her steady, and the delicate pressure of Cindy’s other hand, rubbing slowly across her lower back.

Looking to the source of both sensations, Lindsay saw the tears pooling in Cindy’s eyes, though her own eyes were oddly dry. Maybe she didn’t have any tears left in her. Or maybe they’d just frozen along with everything else.

“Thank you,” she heard Cindy say on her behalf, and the doctor left them alone. “Lindsay, sit down.”

Eyes never leaving Cindy’s, Lindsay did as directed. When a tear broke over the precipice and rolled slowly down Cindy’s cheek, an acute longing Lindsay couldn’t deny raised her hand to Cindy’s face. Catching the errant droplet, Lindsay’s thumb glided over silken skin.

Then, Cindy’s hand covered hers, fingers holding tightly, and pulled Lindsay’s hand down to rest against her chest. Through the thin fabric of Cindy’s shirt, Lindsay could feel the steady, forceful rhythm. Each beat was like a hammer to the block of ice around her. It was only when Cindy’s other hand raised to her face though, moving back along her jaw line until Lindsay felt each of Cindy’s fingertips clinging to the back of her neck, that Lindsay thawed completely.

She knew that Cindy’s touch was only for comfort, that it meant nothing more. But it felt so real, it was almost cruel. Sudden sobs coming on and no power to fight them, Lindsay allowed herself the luxury of being gathered into Cindy’s willing embrace.

Head burrowing into Cindy’s neck, Lindsay breathed her in. Knowing she may never get another chance, her arms folded around the small body before her, drawing Cindy closer than she had any right and holding on way too tight.

As if Cindy was hers to hold onto.