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CHAPTERS

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

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Part Four

The night before, Lindsay had been struck speechless, unable to really absorb the fact that it really was Pete standing in her living room. She hadn't been ready for him, hadn't expected him, and Lindsay as a whole, hated surprises.

It had to do with an element of control, and the people that knew her, really knew her, knew better than to take that away from her. It was thanks to Jill that Tom had been talked out of a surprise party for her thirty-fifth.

Consequently, the hope that had bolstered her spirits and lingered on a precipice of genuine happiness at the idea of a night alone with Cindy Thomas dashed fast and furious when Lindsay, mind blown, could only stare dumbly as Pete began an eloquent speech about surprising her and Cindy jolted to her feet and stammered something to Pete, and without another look at her, simply left her.

Unable to really switch gears, Lindsay appeared thunderstruck, unsure what to do with the automatic instinct to push past Pete and grab hold of Cindy, keep her from bolting.

She was already on her feet when she heard through her sudden panic, "You don't look that thrilled to see me."

It was that sentence, and the insecurity behind it, that had knocked Lindsay out of her haze.

Breathless, she jerked her head and discovered Pete, and at that look on his face, a face she hadn't seen in months, she tore her brown eyes from the slamming wooden door and managed as much of a smile as she could.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and said it louder, quicker, when she didn't even convince herself. "Oh, God, Sorry. I just… I didn't…" Mouth snapping shut, tears stung suddenly in her eyes, and gratefully, she slid long arms around his firm, familiar body. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hi." He gathered her close, and it really was Pete. Fingers curling into short dirty blonde locks, Lindsay felt his heart beating furiously against her chest, and still, unable to help herself, she glanced at the door.

The devastation at losing the first true chance of connecting with Cindy in weeks warred with any relief at being in Pete's arms, and unexpectedly, she felt a surge of inappropriate anger, directed, oddly, at her lover.

Catching it, catching herself, she swallowed it down, and when Pete pulled back and smiled at her, cupping her face with large, masculine hands, Lindsay blinked the tears in her eyes away, and did her very best to smile back.

Late that night, while Pete slept comfortably in her large bed, and Lindsay felt inexplicably crowded, she pulled on a shirt and crept downstairs, reaching her phone and shakily dialing Jill's number.

She needed her best friend. She needed to hear her own words out loud, to listen to Jill and try and make sense of what was happening to her, why on earth she suddenly felt so … trapped and conflicted and why it was so god-damned devastating when Cindy walked out that door.

The phone rang, and Lindsay's heart sunk when all she got was Jill's voicemail.

A moment of contemplation and then she was shakily dialing Cindy.

More of the same.

--

Awake, hung over and … oddly numb, Cindy thanked goodness for small favors when she ducked into Claire's office and discovered the Medical Examiner sitting in her office alone.

Shoulder pressing against the door, Cindy smiled when the other woman glanced up. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Claire said, dropping the reports she had been perusing and slipping off her glasses. "Do you know any qualified autopsy technicians I could hire? Because I might murder mine."

The aggravated tone amused her. "Sorry," she said, pulling her purse off her shoulder and settling into the chair opposite the desk.

"Worth a shot." Claire crossed her arms. "Thanks for coming."

"Oh, you know me." Cindy dug into her purse for her notepad and pen. "I'm all about the story." Her head throbbed in complaint, and she grimaced. "Even if I do need an Advil or ten."

Always a doctor, Claire immediately dug into her desk and flipped her a small packet of the required medication. "You okay?"

The sudden inspection of her pale, drawn face caused a sinking worry, but Cindy's smile, though strained, stayed on her face. "Just a little hung over. I think whatever game we're playing, Jill's winning."

"She usually does." Claire didn’t seem overtly convinced by the cavalier attitude, but at the very least, her friend didn't press.

"Who usually does what?"

The breathless voice, coming up behind her, caused an unintentional catch of her breath, her eyes fluttering shut in a very physical wince.

Thankfully, her back was to the entering Lindsay, and she didn’t catch it. One look at Claire, however, proved that she did.

Eyes connecting with Claire's, Cindy blanched at the sudden dark, concerned expression on Claire's face. Inhaling sharply, she did her best to shake her head minutely, fingers gripping the edges of the chair in a silent plea to her friend.

It was a horrible moment, until Claire swiveled her glance away from her face and smiled up at the woman behind her. "Jill," she said, in a voice that was so deceptively casual, Cindy could have just imagined their unspoken conversation. "She wins at life."

"Ah." God, how the hell did even just the presence of Lindsay make her feel like an unrelenting fool? Mind dizzy, head swimming, Cindy chose to focus on breathing, suddenly intensely aware of Lindsay's eyes on her. Heatedly, she forced herself to turn her head, and yeah, there she was, looking beautiful and haunted, and something else, staring straight at her. "Jill does do a fantastic job at winning."

A moment of bitterness overtook her, and Cindy glanced away, sure she had misinterpreted the questionable expression, because honestly, what did Lindsay have to be haunted about?

"I'm surprised to see you here," she began, too lightly, trying too hard. Gulping, she forced another breath and this time, her smile was easier. "I thought you'd still be in bed with Pete."

Color tinted Lindsay's cheeks. Cindy had embarrassed her. It was almost thrilling. In a sadistic kind of way.

"In bed? With Pete? What are you talking about?"

Arching a brow, Cindy waited for Lindsay to explain. The other woman looked hesitant, shy, and she glanced again to Cindy before wiping her palms on the front of her jeans, stating simply, "Pete surprised me last night. Flew in for a couple days."

"Wow. That's impossibly sweet." Claire had the appropriate response of happiness for her friend. Biting her lip, Cindy decided to take her cue.

"Exactly," she said airily. "So watcha doin' here, Linz? Shouldn't you still be in bed, getting reacquainted?"

Again, those dark eyes looked at her, and God-dammit, why the hell wouldn't Lindsay just look away?

Finally, Lindsay did, and Cindy took the moment gratefully,

"I had work," the other woman responded simply, crossing her arms.

Claire frowned, and in a flash of objectivity, Cindy did think it was slightly odd, the way Lindsay appeared … disenchanted with the whole idea of her boyfriend flying in, but … maybe it was just the shock.

The sound of a ringing phone pierced the sudden quiet, cutting off any words of concern Claire might have had. One look at the caller ID, and Claire signaled she had to take it.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder, and Cindy bit her lip, glancing up to discover Lindsay cocking her head toward the morgue.

"We'll wait outside."

With a stale smile, she rose shakily to her feed, and followed the taller Inspector.

She leaned against the closed door, eyes on the floor like a scolded child, intensely aware of Lindsay's thoughtful stare burning into her.

Unsure if she wanted to hear what Lindsay was preparing to say to her, she thought quickly, and arched a flippant brow, red bangs jerking up to catch Lindsay with a curious smile. "So, have fun last night?"

Again, Lindsay did not portray the giddiness Cindy wanted to see. Not because the giddiness wouldn't hurt, but at least it would have put things firmly in their place, because Lindsay was a woman in love and Pete had just come into town, and they SHOULD have spent all night screwing each other senseless.

God knew Cindy had been battling those images all night.

"You didn't have to go you know."

The statement, careful and quiet, caused a harsh, bitter choke. Leave it to Lindsay to try and be considerate in the most stupid ways. "Uh, yeah, Lindsay, I did. Your boyfriend of six months had just flown thousands of miles to be with you. Believe me, I had to go." Lindsay's mouth tightened, and Cindy felt a flush of sudden shame at her irritable mood. "How is he?" she asked politely.

"He's good," Lindsay said, after a moment, brown eyes once again catching with hers. Breathing in through her mouth, Cindy instinctively glanced away, down at Lindsay's left boot, heel grinding at the floor. "He's only here a couple of days…" The boot kept grinding. "Listen, maybe we could try again when he leaves, you know… a pizza night or something - I hate that it got cut short…"

God-dammit. Smile frozen, Cindy's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "No worries. It's understandable."

"But it shouldn't… you shouldn't have had to…" Lindsay now was openly fidgeting, and after a horrible moment, it occurred to Cindy that her uncharacteristically awkward friend was actually feeling GUILTY.

God. Was she that transparent?

"Seriously, don't worry about it," she said, too fast.

"I don’t want you to think I'm that person, Cindy."

That person? Cindy's brow furrowed with confusion. "What person?"

"The person who blows over her friends to be with her boyfriend."

An unwilling, bitter smile twitched across her lips, and Cindy tried to force it away. "Lindsay, I don't think that. Pete coming to town? That's a huge deal." Lindsay glanced away, blowing out a frustrated breath. In that action, Cindy was flooded by a flash of tenderness, because God… how could Lindsay be so beautiful and strong and still so vulnerably insecure? "It means he still cares," she added gently. "A lot."

It was meant to reassure Lindsay, but her friend looked anything but comforted. White teeth gnawed on her still lower lip, and breath catching, Cindy found herself following the movement.

"Maybe," Lindsay acknowledged finally. "You know… I don't think he and I would have made it these past few months, if it wasn't for you?"

Oh, the god-damned irony. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean… you were there for me. When I felt lonely… I never felt lonely. Because of you."

Figures it would be now, freshly fucked and aglow with Pete's love, Lindsay would feel so damned generous.

"Don’t sweat it," she said tersely. "Any friend would do that same."

"You're not just any friend. What I said before… I still miss you, Cindy."

God-dammit. The words did their work, working down into her belly and filling her with an unwilling warmth, making her want to hope… and that was ridiculous. And idiotic, and she had nearly come to terms with that, the night before. Nearly burned every bridge, nearly barreled headlong into promiscuity and stupidity in an effort to make herself realize that, and it wasn't FAIR that Lindsay could do that to her.

Not after all this time. Not after everything she knew.

"I'm right here," she said flatly.

Lindsay didn't look like she believed her. Then again, Lindsay always did have that way about her; one look and it was as if she could see into her very soul. Damned cliché, and Cindy hadn't believed in those; not in love at first sight, not in the weak-kneed feelings, until she glanced over her cubicle a long while ago and stared straight at the most frustratingly beautiful woman on the planet.

Who at the moment was unraveling her, bit by bit, not even knowingly.

"I really… really hated that you had to leave last night." Lindsay laughed dryly, and the sound, vibrating down her spine, caused an unwilling shudder, as Lindsay once again kicked at the floor and leaned into the door, until a leather clad shoulder brushed into hers. "Did you ever think we'd get to here?"

Quietly, she shrugged. "Where's here?"

Brown orbs twinkled at her, full of depth and warmth and affection. "A year and a half ago, I never would have imagined that one of my best friends would be that nosy little reporter from the Register."

Her voice was raspy, sentimental.

Cindy couldn't not ask. "And now?"

Quietly, Lindsay studied her, and then Cindy went breathless when a finger lifted up, and ever so gently, the back of pointed digit slid gently along her cheek. The contact caused a jolt, and Cindy swallowed hard, forcing an audible inhalation through her nose.

Lindsay's thin lips parted, smile tender, and her touch lingered. "I guess I can't imagine not seeing you every day."

Holy fuck.

The panic rose like bile, and Cindy twitched, head falling back to bang hard against the flat surface of Claire's door. Her headache, previously reduced to a dim throb, resurfaced with an angry hiss, and Cindy growled, rubbing the tender spot on her head numbly.

"Are you okay?" Lindsay was now deeply in her personal space, and it was.NOT.FAIR. Her heartbeat only quickened, and breathing through her nose wasn't helping because she was openly panting, and a wiry, lean body leaned into her side, fingertips tilting up her heated cheeks, inspecting the damage.

"Just a headache," she managed raggedly, shutting her eyes to avoid staring into deep brown eyes inches from her own.

Lindsay blew out a breath, and she felt the wisp of it skim across her cheeks, her lips.

"You don't look so good."

Lindsay wouldn't stop touching her. Dark eyes flew open, took in the concerned expression, that look she had seen too often on Lindsay because the good Inspector was a control freak who liked to tell her when she could and couldn't get herself in danger for the noble cause. But this… this was more tender than before, and heart beating wildly, Cindy couldn't calm her increasing distress, because Lindsay was just too damned close, and her body hummed with the knowledge. "It was a late night," she choked.

Carefully, gently, Lindsay tilted up her chin, until suddenly Cindy's lips felt parched. Her tongue darted out in reflex, moistening her bottom lip, and her knees nearly buckled when she realized just how intensely Lindsay followed the movement.

A door clicked open, and thankful for the distraction, Cindy blinked at the sight of Jill stepping into the morgue, cat eyes taking in the uncomfortable image of the two of them leaning against the door.

"Claire's on the phone," Cindy said helpfully, voice cracking unintentionally.

Her friend only kept looking at her, and once again, Cindy felt a flush of shame, as the other woman studied her head to toe, before her jaw tightened, and her attention went to Lindsay, who was now leaning away.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, heels clacking against the hard floor as she crossed the room, slender fingers slipping into her pockets, voice deceptively casual. "I thought Pete wouldn't have let you leave the house!"

A tender ache jolted inside of her, but the statement was so very Jill, and it felt good to lock glances with the other woman and smile.

Lindsay, however, did not look so congenial. Her mouth twitched expressively, because Lindsay Boxer did not like being teased.

"I had work," she said, voice like flint.

"You know Lindsay," Cindy said, with forced easiness. "She's all about the job."

"Right, just because you two can't seem to figure out where to draw the line." Lindsay's arms crossed, and there was now genuine irritation in her voice. "What'd you two do last night? Paint the town red?"

"Yellow," Cindy quipped. "With polka dots."

Jill grinned, the smile effortless and lighting up her features. "And Cindy went home with quite the bombshell."

The easy inference made Cindy's heart pound suddenly, and she quickly jerked her glance to Jill, discovered the other woman watching her thoughtfully.

"You went home with someone?"

No, God-Damnit. Lindsay Boxer did NOT sound disappointed. That wasn't FAIR.

Jill kept eyeing her, brow lifting almost as if in challenge.

"Oh yeah," she managed, with more lightness than she felt. "She was totally hot. Blonde. Successful."

Across from her, Jill's smile only widened with the compliments, and for that, Cindy at least, was thankful. The moment was universally awkward, and it shouldn't have been, but it was, and still, Jill seemed to maintain a sense of humor about what had happened the night before.

What little Cindy could remember of it.

"Hell of a kisser," Jill added, looking smug and gorgeous. "Or so I'm told."

Suddenly, she was hauntingly aware of Lindsay inhaling sharply. From the way her eyes swiveled from Jill to Cindy, it was clear she had caught the thankful, intimate smile Cindy sent to Jill, and interpreted with lightning speed.

Because Lindsay Boxer was a damned good Inspector.

"You two went home together?"

Before either could answer, the door flew open, and Claire immediately beckoned. "Sorry, sorry," The other woman said hurriedly. "It went long. Come in, I've got something you'll all want to see."

Despite the fact that she continued the game, Cindy's heart suddenly flared, and then she couldn't take it. Losing the battle within herself not to bolt, Cindy found herself suddenly pushing past Jill, heading backwards and stumbling into a table, wincing and moving around it. "You know? I actually... I have a deadline. I need to go. Jill can catch me up later, okay?"

Unwilling to look anyone in the eye, Cindy swiveled, and didn't wait for Claire's sputtering confused 'What?' before she was out the door.

--

"You slept with her?!"

The outburst erupted before she could stop it, and when it came, harsh and angry, Lindsay discovered she didn't want to stop it. In the wake of Cindy's escape, Jill had simply stared after the reporter and then looked at her, and fuck if Lindsay didn't recognize that look on her best friend.

Challenging. Ruthless.

What the hell was she doing?

"Wait," she heard Claire yelp, past the blood rushing in her ears. "You slept with Cindy?!"

And still, Jill didn't speak. The expression in those light blue eyes seemed almost cold, and it dug a knife in her, twisted inside of her, and made her want to punch a wall.

"Jill," she rasped, hands balling into fists, heat rushing to her cheeks.

Jill just continued to look at her with that same expression, like she was a perp on a witness stand, and Jill was simply trying to feel her out.

It made her absolutely livid.

"Did you take Cindy home?" Claire inquired, sounding less upset and more curious.

Jill's eyes never left hers when she finally exhaled through her nose, and answered Claire. "Yes, I took Cindy home last night."

"God-dammit." The word exploded from her before she could stop it, and Jill again shook her head minutely.

"Lindsay…" Claire's hands were already on her bicep, wrapping around her arm, a misguided attempt to calm her. "They're adults."

"Bullshit, Claire," she snapped, thrown and confused and devastated and what-the-fuck was Jill doing sleeping with Cindy? "What the hell were you doing?"

The demand did its work. Jill's face actually paled, and suddenly the eyes glittered. "What the hell was I doing?" she repeated. "She was drunk and in no position to drive. I didn't want to let her go home with anyone else like that and she was determined to go home with someone. I was being a FRIEND, Lindsay. That's what I was doing. But wait, I don't know if you remember what that means."

"Girls," Claire began, obviously worried.

"No, Claire," Jill snapped, and Lindsay frowned, furious but quiet, needing to hear Jill out. "If she has a right to get a bug up her ass about Cindy and me then I have a right to call her on this. You're my best friend, Lindsay, and I love you, but treating Cindy like some kind of god-damned platonic girlfriend with a chastity belt makes you kind of a shit."

She gasped, the pain thudding hard into her chest, an almost physical blow against her ribs. "Jill-"

"That's what she thinks," Jill snapped, voice hard and unyielding. "But what the hell would you know about it? Nothing, because as much as you think I'm the dick for taking her out and trying to make her FORGET you, I'm the one that's at least TRYING."

The statement rattled her brain, and Lindsay was suddenly choking, trying so hard to understand what it was that Jill was telling her, because it sounded like… it sounded like…

"No," she managed, voice gruff and repentant. "I would have known-"

"How?" Jill snapped. "God, how would you have known? Up until a few weeks ago you didn't even know she liked girls." The statement was tinged in disbelief, and Jill's head rolled back, eyes floating up the ceiling, posture stiff with frustration.

"Okay…" As Lindsay's mind spun, Claire ventured forward, easing her way in between them both. "It sounds like there are some issues we need to discuss, but right now, is not the time or the place. Both of you need to calm down."

Wild eyes ventured from Claire, to Jill, and still, Lindsay's throat was raw, painful with the unshed emotion lodged in her throat. "You knew she liked me."

Jill's head snapped down, and once again she was treated to a glare the likes of which she hadn't seen from her best friend. "I didn't sleep with her, Lindsay," Jill said dryly. "If that's what you're fishing for. Believe it or not, I do have enough self awareness and respect for myself and Cindy not to sleep with a hurting friend who so obviously wants my best friend. And yes, I knew. She told me, late night one night in a hospital when I was the only one who stayed, and you were busy getting laid."

The pain came so fast, so hard, she winced as if she had been struck, and she had been. She just been verbally bitchslapped, courtesy of Jill Bernhardt, ADA.

Maybe Jill had seen the expression on her face, because the other woman suddenly glanced away, looked regretful, softened even.

"Don’t get me wrong," Lindsay heard, battling the stinging in her eyes. "I'm happy for you and Pete. Really, Linds. And it's not your fault, if you can't love Cindy the way she wants you to. It happens. But for the love of God, for the sake of your friendship, and everyone's peace of mind, namely MINE, have the balls to let her go. Don't confuse her. Don't cling to her. Just let her accept that it won't happen and let her move on. Be a friend."

Claire tried to speak, but Jill only shook her head, obviously upset, and turned away, heading out of the morgue as quickly as she came in.

-- end chapter four

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