Inamorata (33/36) – WMC fic

PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Characters, not mine. Story, mine.

Cindy slept with her every night.

The first night, it might have been by accident. Cindy walked out of the office sometime after midnight and found Lindsay half-asleep on the couch, gazing off toward the TV with no idea what was actually taking place on it. There had been a hesitancy, as if she didn’t know quite what to do with the situation, and then Cindy asked if she was ready for bed.

“Whenever you are,” Lindsay had responded from her reclined position and half-conscious state.

There was no truer statement ever spoken. If Cindy had any idea how little she was relying on her body for cues right now, she would be amazed. Her life had come down to awaiting instruction.

Cindy nodded and went back in, turning off everything in the office, suggesting she’d had no intention of sleeping until she’d seen that Lindsay was still awake.

When Cindy came out every night at bedtime after that, it was no fluke. Lindsay knew that it was for her sake. Cindy, ever aware of her needs and bowing to them as usual, materialized to function as her own personal security blanket so that she’d be able to sleep. Maybe the generous thing would have been for Lindsay to not be there when Cindy came out, to already be upstairs in bed so that Cindy didn’t feel responsible for her, but it was the only chance she had to be close to her all day and she desperately needed that time.

When they were lying there, Lindsay was more than aware of the intangible, yet very real, wall that divided the bed between them. She knew better than to try to penetrate it. It didn’t matter. With Cindy beside her, despite how far away she felt, Lindsay fell asleep every night.

And, every morning, awoke to find Cindy already gone.

It was just part of the routine, the only part when they intermingled. Other than that, their lives were almost as separate as they had once been. They lived within the same walls, beneath the same roof, and, yet, they saw each other for only moments at a time, and briefly every time, instances when Lindsay would stare unabashedly and soak in the sight of Cindy until she disappeared behind the barrier of the office door again.

Jill and Claire found reasons to come over. As time went on, some of the reasons they came up with were so outrageous, Lindsay wasn’t sure if they were trying to amuse her or just running out of good excuses to be there. Lindsay was dragged along on errands, any and every kind of activity where one person could stay in the apartment, knowing that Lindsay wouldn’t leave Cindy alone, while the other took Lindsay on a play date. It was so obvious, it was almost irritating, but she needed it so badly, she didn’t point it out.

Jill and Claire also bought her more DVD sets than any one human being had a right to own, but it was surprisingly effective. Anything that took any thought was pretty much out of the question in Lindsay’s world right now, because no matter what she tried to do, her mind was consumed with how Cindy was doing, how Cindy was coping, and how soon they could move away from this unfortunate monotonous, painful routine to something better. She had tried to find constructive things to do with her time, but mostly ended up staring into space, worrying. This way she was at least catching up on every TV show she never really had any desire to see in the first place.

She didn’t even have an officer to think about destroying any more, because when it set in for Jill that she wasn’t going to have Ashe to go after, she needed someone to focus her prosecutorial efforts on. That very unlucky, but very deserving, person was Officer Burnish. When all was said and done, Lindsay knew that he wouldn’t just be off the force. He’d be doing time. He had no idea just what was coming at him. Jill was going to nail his ass to the wall.

So, that’s how it went. Days purposefully occupied with nothing of consequence, nights spent sleeping next to Cindy, just because she was too damn giving not to be present.

It had taken five days, with little in terms of good mornings, little in terms of good nights, and very, very little in between those things, before they crawled into bed and, after a few minutes, in which Lindsay could sense that there was a reason not to fall asleep yet and could almost feel the uncertainty from the other side of the invisible wall, Cindy rolled over into her. She felt Cindy’s chest expand against her side as she took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, trying to expel the tension she had created through her own simple action. She was pressing things, and she knew it. Lindsay only hoped that she was doing it for her own sake and it wasn’t just one more thing done on her behalf.

“I’ll try not to clock you,” Cindy whispered against the side of her neck.

Lindsay laughed nervously and felt Cindy’s tension, ever so slowly, melt away. She carefully let her hand move up to Cindy’s back as the head on her chest grew heavy. Slowly, and with great care, she pulled the small body tighter against her and kissed Cindy gently on the top of her head.

Six days after that, out of the blue, Cindy took a detour on her way from the kitchen to the office, coming over to where Lindsay was leaning on the arm of the sofa, watching season 3 of something or other. She bent down and kissed Lindsay softly on the lips for no other reason than because she wanted to.

“I love you,” she whispered against Lindsay’s lips.

“I love you too,” Lindsay whispered back after she’d pulled away.

Cindy smiled at her and went back into the office.

It was a progression, a change that could not only be observed, but felt. Lindsay could recognize the healing. Day by day. Little by little. She only wished that she could be more a part of it. Being helpless never did sit well with her.

In the end, it took twenty days and nights. It was no exaggeration that it was the longest twenty days of Lindsay’s life.

That night, when the door opened slowly and Cindy stepped out of the office, there was transformation in the air. There was something about her entrance, less insecure and frightened, more confident and purposeful. It was like watching a butterfly emerge from its cocoon, fully developed and finally capable of flight.

As Cindy moved toward her on the sofa, the emotional distance seemed to evaporate with the reduction in physical distance between them. Lindsay sat up straighter and turned off the TV. Qualms and anxiety churned in the space between them and couldn’t seem to find traction anymore. There were other, stronger entities pushing those more damaging sentiments aside.

Cindy took the place beside her on the sofa, as Lindsay had known that she would. She sat close enough to make the pace of Lindsay’s heartbeat pick up. Enthralled by the change, Lindsay looked over at her. Cindy smiled ultra-gently and hovered the item she’d brought out of the room with her over Lindsay’s hands.

“My process,” Cindy murmured.

Lindsay opened her hands to receive it, not at all surprised at the feel of paper in her hands, though she was somewhat surprised by the mass, and grudgingly pulled her eyes from Cindy’s remarkably relaxed and natural appearance to what she’d been given.

In her open palms rested a thick manuscript, bound with brass brads, only four words on the cover page.



Cindy Thomas

“From everyone’s point of view… mine the least, because I remember the least,” Cindy quietly explained. “But mostly from yours.”

They sat there in silence, Lindsay surprisingly intoxicated by the heat of Cindy’s body next to her, of just having her that close again of her own volition. Drunk on the change in the atmosphere.

“This is a lot of writing in three weeks,” she said.

“I never said that it was good,” Cindy responded with a touch of humor.

“I know that it is,” Lindsay replied easily and honestly.

She wouldn’t pretend that Cindy had ever put something down on paper that was anything less than extraordinary.

Lindsay’s eyes were locked on the pages in her hands, mesmerized. She’d assumed that Cindy was writing. What else would she be doing? But not like this. Not this topic. Not this much. Not living the whole thing over again just to chronicle it.

“Once you step away from the situation, it really is a fascinating story,” Cindy murmured.

Lindsay was pleasantly distracted from her study of the manuscript’s cover page by the enchanting sound of Cindy’s voice and the long-craved feel of Cindy’s hand coming up to her head, delicately pushing the hair back from her face, fingers working through the strands again and again.

“You know what I realized?” Cindy asked gently.

“What?” Lindsay breathed, falling quickly under the spell of touch and sound.

“It was a terrible thing that happened to me,” Cindy said, pausing for a heartbreaking sigh that made Lindsay’s stomach flip and heart pound cruelly in reaction. “There’s no denying that. It was human evil incarnate. I never could have imagined being on the receiving end of something like that until it happened. But if it had been you… if I didn’t know where you were, what might have been happening to you, if I didn’t know if I would find you, or what I might actually find when I did… I wouldn’t have wanted to trade places with you, Lindsay.”

The gently verbalized words were nearly her undoing.

“Well, I would have done anything to trade places with you,” Lindsay pushed out against the threat of tears she forced herself to keep in check.

“I know.”

Lindsay raised her eyes from the written manifestation of what they had been through to meet Cindy’s steadfast gaze.

“I want you to read it,” Cindy said simply.

“I want to read it,” Lindsay responded candidly, her eyes instantly drawn back down.

She did. The idea of knowing what everyone else was thinking during that time, it was enticing. Especially Cindy, even if her thoughts were the most incomplete.

But she was also scared to read it. Terrified actually. Even her hands had started to minutely shake where they held to the pages. It was just so concrete. It made it that much more real.

“It’s almost everything,” Cindy told her, “but there were some things that were too dangerous to write down, even in my notes.”

“Like what?”

There was a pause, in which Lindsay looked up again to find that Cindy’s eyes had never abandoned her.

“Did you know that Jill moved Ashe’s gun?”

Lindsay’s shock stemmed from both the fact itself and by how strong Cindy had sounded saying Ashe’s name. There was always a reticence since the attic to openly speak it, but not this time. It was as if she had power over him now.

“I thought Jacobi,” Lindsay whispered.

Cindy shook her head softly.


Lindsay felt a flash of wonder and pride at the information, and let her eyes fall back to the treasure in her hands. What other secrets lied within?

“You don’t have to read it now,” Cindy husked.

No sooner were the words spoken than Inamorata was slid out of Lindsay’s grasp. Left with nothing to hold onto, Lindsay could only watch her hands shaking as Cindy laid the pages on the coffee table. Her body followed suit as Cindy moved nearer until she was flush against her side.

“I’m sorry,” Cindy said, her fingers still softly moving through Lindsay’s hair.

“For what?”

When she glanced over at her, Cindy gave her one of her patented Cindy looks, ripe with nonverbal eloquence, wordlessly expressing the answer to that question.

“It’s okay,” Lindsay whispered.

“It’s not okay,” Cindy stated softly, but with intensity. “I was really distant, I know, and I know how that feels.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Lindsay uttered, her eyes falling to where Cindy’s other hand had come to rest on her thigh.

“I didn’t mean to be. I didn’t want to be.”

Both of Cindy’s hands abandoned their locations and Lindsay’s hands were taken into Cindy’s, who pulled them upward, kissing each lingeringly before flattening them against her cheeks. The heat infused Lindsay’s body to her soul.

Her fingertips surveyed Cindy’s skin automatically, not ceasing even when Cindy leaned in to kiss her, her own hands moving from Lindsay’s, one finding Lindsay’s collarbone, her thumb brushing faintly against Lindsay’s throat, the other moving into Lindsay’s hair, urging her closer.

It was only a lip to lip union, nothing deeper or more pervasive, but when Cindy pulled away, Lindsay could still detect her struggle for breath. Lindsay opened her eyes and, just like that, the walls came tumbling down. Cindy was there, absolutely, with her. There were no barriers, no obstructions, just the two of them, the night, and a return to the course they had been on before the path was ravaged before them.

Cindy kissed her again, harder, deeper, with greater persistence, and Lindsay wished that she could just let it happen.

“Cindy… Hold on.”

Against her will, Lindsay’s hands, still framing Cindy’s face, gently pushed her away.

“Why?” Cindy implored.

“You’re not ready for this,” Lindsay warned, though she was really hoping to be proven wrong.

“You think you could maybe let me decide that?”

Lindsay tried to form a reply, something that would make Cindy halt. Before she could though, Cindy got up from the couch and hauled her upward with surprising strength.

Lindsay allowed herself to be pulled up the stairs without resistance, wondering with each climbed stepped if she should be digging her heels in and refusing to go.

But she couldn’t. She wanted this and Cindy’s initiation gave her faith to follow.

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  1. This chapter was beautiful. You really nailed their emotions right on. I’m going to be sad to see this fic go. It is the best Cindy-gets-kidnapped story I’ve ever read. Also kudos to the new layout. For a second I freaked that I had gone to the wrong site. I like the way that you have the headings listed so you don’t have to scroll down.

  2. Fucking brilliant!! I never expected Cindy to write a book about everything that happened. A very detailed article on it, sure. But a book. That just blew me away. And Lindsay’s emotions were so spot on. For both of them actually. And I really admired how you wrote Cindy’s strength for this chapter. It was an incredible read, and like the first comment, it will be really, really sad to see this story come to an end.

  3. oh this was so good. i love the fact that cindy needs to write everything down in order to process. i feel like that’s exactly what would happen. great job! i can’t believe this story is almost over. its been amazing so far.

  4. I felt an uncomfortable lump at the back of my throat while I was going through this chapter and I don’t know why. There’s just something about this story and the way you write it, I felt sad, I felt hopeful, I felt sorry, I felt glad, it’s a jumble of emotions and I honestly don’t know how to describe it.

    (um, am I allowed to curse here?) Fucking awesome.

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