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CHAPTERS

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN

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Part Three

"I don't know how she does it."

Cindy didn't miss the quirk of a smile that floated on Claire's face as the Medical Examiner bent over their latest body, tilting the head with gloved hands to examine the rope burns that scarred his neck.

"Don't tell me you're burning out already."

"I'm not burning out!" Coming forward, Cindy shook her head emphatically. "But I'm just saying! I'm the young one. I'm the one who always has energy to burn. How the hell does Jill do her job and go out at all hours to have hot random sex? I'm drowning in Red Bull three times a week!"

Claire's smile widened, but she stayed quiet, turning to her sketch pad and making a few notes.

"It's…" Cindy tried to think of an acceptable term for what she was feeling, and took the time to suck down another gulp of sugar-laced energy drink. The taste was sour, and she winced. "Embarrassing. I'm supposed to be running her ragged."

"Don't take it personally." Claire straightened, removing the gloves from her hands with a well-practiced snap. "Jill's just excited. She's been trying to get Lindsay to go out with her for years."

At the mention of their third friend, Cindy exhaled. "Yeah."

"And don't tell me you're not having a good time."

The knowing look that was sent her way over the dead body felt almost like the expression her old teacher used to give her in Catholic school when she tried to hem her way out of detention.

"I’m having fun," she admitted grudgingly. And she was. Honestly. There was something to be said for the emotional high that came with the intoxicating maelstrom that was Jill. She was right. They made a great team, and Cindy was now swimming in eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. Hell, she could have her own dating show.

And that was the point, wasn't it? To start over, wean herself away from her self-depreciating habit of being at Lindsay Boxer's beck and call?

It didn't, however, make her miss Lindsay any less.

"You know she's invented a new rule for me," she said flatly, leaning over the desk to poke her finger at a jar that was filled with something that looked disturbingly like it came from inside a human being. "Yuck. Next Halloween, you should just have Nate's class come here. This is creepy."

"I don't think scarring those kids for life qualifies as harmless Halloween fun," Claire said, slapping at her hands gently. "Don't touch. What's the new rule?"

"I can't get serious." Cindy grinned in spite of herself. "I'm under strict orders to keep any sort of dating casual."

Claire snorted easily. "Makes sense for Jill," she agreed, lips quirking in amusement. "She's just got her perfect wingman. She's not gonna lose her now." Turning away, Claire slipped the sheet over the dead body.

Cindy found her smile faltering. She understood Jill's reasoning. As the sole member of the Club with knowledge of Cindy's feelings for Lindsay, Jill's plan was put together with a lawyer's precision: strict, formulaic, and without room for deviation. What Jill wanted were results. And rebounds.

None of this messy 'love' business that would cramp Jill's style, and get Cindy involved in a messy complicated dynamic when she was in no place to love anyone.

When she didn't want to love anyone but Lindsay.

"Yeah, well… she says I'm resisting," she answered, louder as she heard the rumbling crank of squeak and metal that slid the body back into its proper place.

"Why are you resisting?"

Cindy crossed her arms, and considered the question.

Introspection was something she was trying to avoid, but she knew the reason.

She wasn't ready to let Lindsay go.

Managing a crooked smile for Claire's benefit, she shrugged lightly and tilted her head. "Because I like getting eight hours of sleep more than once a week?"

Claire chuckled lightly, and given the reprieve of having Claire buy that, Cindy managed a smile of her own.

--

"Long distance relationships never work. Believe me, I know."

Nine months later, Lindsay Boxer wanted Cindy to eat her words. She had known it would be tough. She had known that there would be temptations and problems and a general frustration with committing to someone when there were only two weeks of foundation to build on.

But she hadn't expected it to be so easy.

And it was. It was easy because Lindsay didn't feel alone. She missed Pete like crazy, especially the first few months, but back then, it was as if Cindy knew.

On a particularly lonely night, when Jill was … doing what Jill liked to do and Claire was home with her family, and Lindsay had time to be alone and really think about what that meant, that was when Cindy would show up, with a movie or a pizza or a six pack of beers, offering a walk with Martha or just a smile and conversation.

It was almost as if by some unspoken deal, Cindy had taken it upon herself to make sure this relationship worked, that Lindsay could be happy because even if Pete was thousands of miles away, Cindy wouldn't let her feel alone.

Lindsay had never told Cindy how much she appreciated that.

Deep down, maybe she had considered that Cindy had been a better friend to her than she had been to Cindy. In a casual conversation, Cindy had once joked that Lindsay had shown more concern over Jamie 'fake kidnapping' her than when she was shot in the chest, and the fact that Cindy really believed that bothered her immensely, not just because Cindy thought it was true, but because Lindsay really had no evidence to refute it.

Jill had been the one to stay with Cindy in the hospital. Jill had been the one who came into the office with updates on Cindy's condition and complained openly to Cindy that she should have been home recovering, not out trying to find Lindsay leads. Lindsay… hadn't. And she had no real excuse for that, other than the simple fact that seeing Cindy bleeding out on the ground had scared her more than anything had, scared her nearly out of mind and to deal with it, Lindsay had to almost pretend it didn't happen. Bury herself in Pete and the case, because the thought of losing Cindy shouldn't have been that frightening.

There had been too much fear. Too much panic. Too much there when Cindy was lying on the ground, choking on blood and staring blindly into the sky.

There had been some distance, after that. Lindsay found herself with a real coward's need to stay away, because she couldn't process the fear. It was too much. She had already lost so much and all that mattered was that Cindy was okay. She was going to be okay and that was all Lindsay needed to know. To sit in a hospital room and actually relive it would also mean examining WHY it felt like the world had bottomed out on her the minute she realized it was Cindy who had been shot, and she couldn't process that.

She didn't want to.

And besides, she thought they had gotten out of it okay. Jill and Cindy got a chance to bond in a way they hadn't previously, and she had gotten Pete, and even though Pete was away, she still had her friendship with Cindy. In some ways, they were closer than ever. It was safe now, with Pete in her heart, to give Cindy a key to her place, and to smile adoringly when an over-eager Martha bowled over Cindy in her excitement at seeing her.

It was how she got through the months, and now, Lindsay was in the home stretch, ready to prove to the world that love really did conquer all, and she owed a lot of that to Cindy.

Except Cindy had apparently had enough, and nowadays, that unspoken understanding that Lindsay relied on had dissolved in favor of Cindy and Jill playing some twisted Romy and Michelle game in all the singles bars in San Francisco. Not just the straight ones. The gay ones.

Lindsay didn't know why, but in the face of Jill's 'minime' renovation of Cindy, Lindsay felt an utter loss. She liked Cindy just fine the way she was, had always felt Cindy didn't need to plaster on make up and head to dive bars to meet someone special.

Strangely, in some twisted way, she had gotten it into her head that Cindy wasn't looking for anything more than what she had.

The fact that she was so obviously wrong proved she didn't know Cindy at all, that even in that, she felt like a failure.

Lindsay supposed she should have been grateful when Cindy came to see her at all, despite the fact that there now existed a lingering tension in their time alone together.

When Cindy said yes to walking Martha for the first time in forever had been a welcome surprise, and even though she didn't have to, Lindsay had rushed home, getting to the door just in time to see Cindy heading up the driveway with a wagging slobbery Martha, obviously overjoyed to have her friend back.

Cindy was dressed for going out. Sitting in Lindsay's living room, uncaring of the hair Martha was getting all over her low cut black top and skin tight jeans, fingers rubbing energetically in Martha's mane, making the dog damned near preen, she was sexier than Lindsay had ever remembered her being.

Cindy laughed, and Lindsay caught her breath, forcing down her stilted smile to bring forward the beer she had promised her friend.

"Thanks again for taking her out," she said gruffly, holding out the ice cold bottle for Cindy to take. Flushed cheeks and brilliant laughing eyes suddenly glancing up at her, and she suddenly felt choked, breathless.

"Oh, please," Cindy said, unaware of Lindsay's appreciation, taking the bottle and grinning her sunny smile that always seemed to light up the room. "To be honest, I was glad you called. I've missed this girl!"

Martha caught the enthusiastic lilt of her voice and jumped in reaction, tail wagging furiously, paws on Cindy's jeans, long tongue lolling out to lick at the rosy cheeks.

The sight was too sweet for words.

"I think she's missed you." Hesitating for a moment, Lindsay finally settled down on the sofa with her own bottle, picking at nonexistent lint as she added carefully. "We both have."

Unfortunately, her admission only resulted in one of those unspoken tensions that hadn't existed before, and intensely aware of her beating heart, Lindsay swallowed hard, kept her gaze on her condensing bottle, picking at the wrinkling label.

"Sorry about that," Cindy said, an uncomfortable moment later. Lindsay could feel some fidgeting on the other side of the couch. "I know I haven't exactly been around."

Lindsay gulped down a swallow of the bitter amber liquid. Straightening, she pasted on a polite smile, and forced herself to relax, bringing her knees up between them to allow her to assume a more casual look. They weren’t strangers. "No, it's… I'm glad you're doing that. Going out. I think you should." Cindy's eyes, rimmed with black liner and mascara, never seemed so bright. Lindsay allowed herself to linger on the ruby lips and the pale, generous cleavage Cindy sported. "You look great, by the way."

Her friend flushed adorably. "Thanks," she heard, before Cindy exhaled raggedly and glanced away, tilting the bottle neck up with her fingertips and allowing the liquid sink into her mouth. "So how's Pete?"

Pete. Blinking, Lindsay felt suddenly thrown, and didn't understand her confusion until she saw Cindy's expression somewhat more closed than it had been before.

It bothered her, but she deliberately took another drink, and answered the question. "He's fine."

"You sure?" Lindsay blinked, and color burned onto Cindy's cheeks before her friend continued quickly, "I just... I haven't heard you talk about him in a while."

Maybe it's because you haven’t been here, she thought bitterly and immediately cursed herself for it.

"We've just been busy," she said, more carefully than before. "He's... trying to get his deadline done and before we used to have these scheduled late night calls and... it's been harder to do that. To be honest, we haven't actually spoken for a couple weeks."

Her eyes lifted, latched onto Cindy's intensely.

After a moment, Cindy glanced away, breaking the stare. She suddenly put the bottle down. "I need to space these things out," she explained. "Jill can drink me under the table."

Right. Because Cindy was going out tonight.

"She can handle her liquor," Lindsay agreed, half embarrassed. "She can outdrink most people."

"Well, I do okay for a tiny person." Cindy shrugged modestly, but tilted her head adorably. "But I have to admit, I am kinda curious about you."

Caught under the studious gaze of the light brown eyes, Lindsay felt suddenly self conscious. Her bottled tilted too high, and suddenly she was spurting beer, gulping as she wiped at her mouth. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you know, I've only seen you do the light stuff. For all your talk about bourbon, I've never actually gotten you drunk."

If there was an unspoken challenge in that, Lindsay refused to see it. "I think I'm a little old for that, honestly."

Mouth pressed together in a quiet smile, Cindy shrugged and resumed running her fingers through Martha's mane, allowing the dog to settle against her, front paws across Cindy's lap.

Lindsay found herself suddenly caught by the subtle beauty of the soft, earnest woman seated before her. It was disconcerting, because she had always thought Cindy attractive, but forced to deal with missing her companion, Lindsay felt as if she was getting slapped in the face with it. Had Cindy always been so beautiful? Probably. Had Lindsay noticed it? Most definitely.

Had it always made her feel so incredibly helpless and... tight inside?

"You should still come sometime."

The invitation caught her by surprise, brought her out of a self imposed daze. Lindsay glanced up, and suddenly laughed uncomfortably. "I think that would seriously cramp Jill's mojo." She could only imagine that glare she would receive from her best friend if she showed up with her surly cop self to interfere with Jill's plan to dominate the singles world with her new Robin at her side.

Not that watching Jill and Cindy seduce pants and skirts off men and women held much appeal to her to begin with.

"Aw, please. Just because you're a committed old lady doesn't mean you can't take a night off to party with the youngun's."

Eyes widening, Lindsay caught sight of a demure glance and a teasing grin hidden behind a beer bottle. She laughed good-naturedly, reaching over to shyly kick at Cindy's jeans.

"Don't be writing checks your ass can't cash, Minime. I said Jill could outdrink most people, I didn't say she could outdrink me."

"Sounds like a challenge, Inspector." Cindy's eyes glittered dangerously. "Does that mean you're coming?"

Settled on her couch, eyes on her gorgeous reporter friend looking so damned comfortable sitting there with her and her dog, Lindsay didn't feel like going anywhere.

"I've got a better idea," she began hoarsely, reaching forward to place the bottle on the coffee table. "Why don't you just stay?"

The teasing expression faded.

Suddenly insecure, Lindsay cleared her throat, and tried again. "I just mean... it's been a while since you and I have had a night to ourselves. Seems as good a time as any."

"Oh..." Cindy's lips pressed together, and her friend appeared genuinely conflicted. "I don't know, Linds... I kinda promised Jill..."

Jill. Of course.

"I just..." Lindsay nearly choked on her earnest attempt to be honest. "I'm just... I get the feeling sometimes that maybe... you're trying to avoid me." Bright, startled eyes immediately swiveled back to her. Cindy looked almost struck. "I just want to make sure nothing's changed."

"What would have changed?" Cindy never could lie. Her tone was nearly strangled, and disappointment suddenly flooded Lindsay.

"Cindy... I just miss you. If I've done anything..."

"No, Lindsay... God, Lindsay..." Cindy's eyes closed, and suddenly her bottle was back in her hands, and pressed against her forehead.

"Is it the girl thing?" she tried, because Lindsay was suddenly desperate. She had to know, because then maybe she could fix it. And get things back to how they were. Maybe then Cindy wouldn't feel like she had to prove something, and Lindsay could make her stay. "Because... I know Jill knew, but I never would have - I couldn't have-"

Unconsciously, she reached forward, tried to catch the slender fingers with hers, draw them into her lap.

Cindy jerked away as if she had burned her.

The unspoken rejection was brutal.

"Lindsay..." Cindy's eyes were back on her, but the easy chemistry had dissolved. "I just... it was all me. It was my fault, and I'm just trying to ... fix it." The last words were quiet, as if Cindy suddenly lost steam.

"Fix what? What's broken?" Again, those brown eyes were wide and frightened, and revealed nothing. Now, Cindy was openly fidgeting, and it was causing Martha to lift her head and whine her complaint.

"I should go-"

No. An increasing sense of urgency filled her, and there was suddenly nothing more important than making Cindy stay.

"Look, we don't have to talk about it," Lindsay began, eyes closing as she tried to put aside her frustration, rubbing fingers along her temples. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked again at her friend. "Just stay. We don't have to have a big conversation just... let's have pizza and... watch a movie and..." Cindy bit her lip, but her posture seemed to soften, and Lindsay's heart fluttered wildly in hope. "... no pressure. God knows I suck at talking too."

Seeing Cindy's hesitant smile, the semi-unconscious way she seemed to stall, was the best thing in the world.

Until the distinct rasp of a key in a lock forced them both to glance toward her door, and Lindsay went breathless at the sudden very real, very gorgeous image of a man entering her living room, wearing a smile and carrying a duffel bag.

He discovered them both on the couch, and his eyes crinkled with a happy grin.

"Surprise," Pete said.

--

She was the ultimate idiot.

God, it was fucking HOPELESS.

Drifting into the club, Cindy searched the crowd immediately for a cropped blonde cut, and found what she was looking for, in the shape of a beautiful friend settled neatly against the bar, twirling a toothpick laded with olives through her dry martini.

Her chest tight with unshed emotion, Cindy didn't bother with niceties as she pushed her way through the crowded dancefloor, eyes on Jill like she was a buoy in a fierce rickety storm.

"You're late," Jill said flatly, when Cindy finally settled in beside her, raising an index finger and motioning for the bartender. "Work?"

"I wish," she breathed, and slid heartbroken eyes to her friend. "I really, really need to get drunk tonight."

Upon seeing her expression, Jill immediately lost her cavalier attitude. "What's wrong?"

"I'm a fucking idiot, that's what's wrong." The bartender finally reached her, and she immediately asked for a Grey Goose Cosmopolitan.

"Cindy." Jill's fingers immediately grabbed hold of hers, forcing her attention back to Jill's concerned blue eyes. "What happened?"

God, if she even thought about it, she would cry. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but losing herself in a damned Cosmo and possibly some woman's body.

"You were right. That's what happened. I’m just... I'm an idiot."

"Okay, sure. But why?"

"I went to Lindsay's."

Jill's breath caught, and her friend's eyes darkened considerably. "Cindy..."

"I know! I'm an idiot. She asked me to walk her dog, and I was so damned desperate to see her I did it. And I missed that dog." Cindy's fingers buried in her hair, and she glanced again at Jill, who only looked at her. "She asked me to stay. Said she missed me and wanted me to stay and I almost said yes."

There were a million things Jill could have said, but her friend simply reached forward and slid her fingers into Cindy's mane, gently massaging at her neck, squeezing her fingers calmly. "Okay," she said smoothly. "Then what happened?"

"Then FUCKING Pete walks in the door." Cindy's heart nearly splintered again, and hated herself for it. "Says he missed her and wanted to surprise her and he's right there, in her living room, and it just... I'm SUCH an idiot, you know? I knew this was coming, and I still... God-dammit, where is that Cosmo?"

"Cindy." Jill's eyes were too moist, and Cindy hated it. Softly, Jill came in closer, looked so damned concerned. "Do you want us to get out of here?"

Cindy blinked, suddenly offended. "No! We're staying, okay? And I'm going to drink and then I’m going to find some hot guy or hot girl and screw the hell out of them and you're going to help me? Because that's what I need right now. That's who I am. That's who I need to be."

"Cindy."

"Jill."

Maybe she had frightened her, she wasn't sure, but there was only ultimate relief when Jill blinked back her emotion and forced a smile on her face, obviously for her benefit. "Okay," Jill agreed, voice raspier than usual. "Okay."

Pulling out her vodka soaked toothpick, Jill let the olive linger on Cindy's lips. Closing her eyes, Cindy closed her teeth around the olive and then turned her head, pressing her lips fiercely against Jill's, mingling her taste with that of the bitter olive.

When they pulled away, Jill's forehead rested gently against her temple, and with a small smile, she kept her hand around the back of Cindy's neck, allowing the moment of intimacy in an establishment full of strangers. "Let's help you forget."

-- end chapter three

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