House Arrest (14/35) – WMC fic

(December 23rd, Lindsay’s POV)

Lindsay was so exhausted, she seriously thought about crawling under her desk and napping for several hours before going into Tom’s office. She and Jacobi had been going non-stop for the last thirty-six hours, but it resulted in a capture and a confession, so she was good with it. She entered Tom’s office after a half a knock and got an exasperated look for walking in on the middle of a phone call.

As soon as the call ended, Tom looked over at her.

“Lindsay, come in. Sit down,” he said, purposefully. “A lot of people wait for that.”

“If I sit in that chair, I am down for the count, and a lot of people don’t have this kind of news. Santa just confessed.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, they’re booking him now.”

“That’s amazing,” Tom said, the astonishment clear in his tone. “I’m not going to lie. When you walked in here yesterday morning and said you were going to bring this guy in within seventy-two hours, I was a little skeptical, but you did it in less than forty. How the hell’d you…”

“You know,” Lindsay cut him off. “Solid leads, questionable police tactics to get people on the streets to talk.”

When Tom looked like he wanted to say something, Lindsay put her hand up to stop him.

“Can we wait until after the first of the year to discuss it?”

“Sure. We’re, uh,” Tom started with a laugh, “we’re not going to get sued are we?”

“No,” Lindsay responded. “Probably not.”

Tom’s smile faded, but Lindsay was oblivious to it.

“Can I still get off for Christmas?”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“You heard me.”

“No I don’t think I did,” Tom started slowly, “because what I heard and what you said can’t possibly be the same thing. Like time off?”

“Yeah. Like time off,” Lindsay said. “I want Christmas off. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal? The big deal is you’ve never bothered to have Christmas off, not since you’ve been on the force. Not even when we were married.”

As tired as she was, she still couldn’t miss the hurt on Tom’s face. She felt bad for causing it, and was trying really hard not to think that there had to be a reason she didn’t demand the holidays off to spend with Tom, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cindy alone in her apartment on Christmas.

“Well, now I’d like to,” Lindsay said gently. “Is it a problem?”

“No. Whatever you want to do,” Tom said.

“Thank you. Tell Heather I said, Merry Christmas,” Lindsay responded, realizing that she actually meant it.

“I will,” Tom nodded.

“I’m going home to sleep. I can come back in tomorrow and take care of the paperwork.”

“It can wait. You’ve gotten enough overtime. If you are taking off Christmas, you may as well take off tomorrow too.”

“Okay, I will.”

The look on Tom’s face implied he didn’t actually expect her to agree to the suggestion.

“Okay,”he finally said.

“Okay,” Lindsay said back, walking backwards out of the office. “See you on the 26th.”

“Yeah,” Tom uttered, then, as Lindsay turned to go. “Lindz?”

She turned back around to look at him. He looked… rejected.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Nowhere,” Lindsay answered. “Just staying home.”

Though her feet felt like they each weighed fifty pounds, and her head felt like it was filled with helium, Lindsay had one more stop to make. She deemed it vital, though, more than likely, it was only vital to her.

Claire was hard at work when she walked into the morgue, slicing and scrutinizing as usual.

“Oh my God,” she said, looking up. “Why have you not just fallen over?”

“I’m not sure,” Lindsay shook her head. “I’m going home to sleep. But… I need your help first.”

“I got two bodies ahead of you, and you should seriously be done for the day, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, it’s not… um…” Lindsay stammered, then sighed at her inability to form words. After a deep breath, she was able to force them out. “What does Cindy like?”

Claire turned toward her holding a liver in both hands, so shocked she was seemingly unaware of the bodily fluids dripping onto the floor.

“What?”

“What does she like? Like, what would she like for Christmas… do you think?”

“For Christmas?”

“I know that she likes to write,” Lindsay explained, finding every piece of equipment on the nearby counter suddenly fascinating. “But that’s also her job, so it seems kind of impersonal to get her something writing-related.”

Claire finally realized that she was making a bio-hazardous mess all over and put the liver down, grabbing a rag for her hands.

“How personal do you want it to be?” she asked in an eagerly curious tone.

“Well, we’re friends now, so, you know, like what I get you and Jill. Though I actually haven’t had a lot of time to go shopping,” Lindsay said, remembering that she hadn’t actually bought anything for anyone yet this year. “What did I get you last year?”

“A gift card.”

Lindsay winced.

“That’s not very personal, is it?”

“Not very, no,” Claire responded. “It was for a shoe store though, so I was happy with it. So, no gift card?”

“No gift card,” Lindsay countered, making a racket with a set of test tubes, before deciding to abandon them and actually face Claire. “How about music? Everybody likes music. I could get her some tickets to something. She couldn’t go now, but in January, after she gets arraigned, she’ll be free to roam. What about the symphony? Does everybody like the symphony?”

“Do you like the symphony?” Claire said with one of those damn knowing looks.

“Not particularly,” Lindsay admitted. “But I’ll bet she does.””

“Probably,” Claire agreed.

“I should get her two tickets though. She’s not going to want to go alone. But then, what if she doesn’t have anyone to take? That might make her feel bad. But she probably has someone she could take.”

Lindsay frowned and hated herself for it. Was she really so unromantic these days that she wished everyone was alone? No. She loved Claire and Ed together. She loved Jill and Luke together. If Cindy had someone, she would be totally… happy… for her. Wouldn’t she?

“Do you think she has someone she’d like to take?” she asked Claire quietly.

“I don’t know,” Claire answered, in a suddenly soothing voice. “You could always offer to go with her.”

“I could go with her,” Lindsay said, as if she’d just discovered the idea on her own. “Is that rude, giving someone tickets to something and then taking one back?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind,” Claire smiled.

“Okay,” Lindsay nodded. “That’s what I’ll do then.”

She moved toward the door.

“Good talk,” she said as she disappeared out it.

Claire waited, and a few moments later, Lindsay’s head reappeared.

“Claire? Where do I buy symphony tickets?”

“Why don’t you let me get cleaned up, and give you a ride? I’ll show you. And maybe it will spare the city a fifty car pileup from you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Thanks,” Lindsay said, once again incredibly grateful that Claire was on her side.