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CHAPTERS

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

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Part Six

Seated at her kitchen table, her furry companion settled lazily at her feet, Lindsay Boxer leaned forward on her elbows and, fisted palms pressed against the bridge of her nose, sucked in a deep, unsteady breath.

The daylight had weaned into the night, and she was alone. Pete's hurt brown eyes still haunted her, created an itch in her chest, and there was a reason Lindsay Boxer was just no good at relationships. It resonated in the way Pete had glared at her; in the way he just didn’t seem to comprehend what it was she had done, what it was she was feeling, and honestly why would he? On the surface, these feelings had come so far, so fast, and Pete had invested eight months on the true hope and belief that when they got a real chance, it was going to happen. They really were going to be together.

Instead, as payment for his grand romantic gesture, he had Lindsay explaining to him with stumbling words and teary eyes that not only was that not going to happen, but she wanted somebody else more. She wanted a woman more.

And just like that, Lindsay Boxer had broken his heart, and he had left her.

Left to her own devices, to her own mind replaying words and actions, Lindsay's confidence failed her, and she found herself considering what exactly she had done.

Beneath her, Martha shuffled closer and carefully laid a slender head over her booted toe, emitting a loud sigh in the process.

Vibrations at her hip caused an automatic reaction, and creasing fingers over her temple, she unbuckled the phone from her belt and lifted it up to her ear, keeping her eyes closed as she managed flatly, "Boxer."

"How'd it go?"

Claire's careful tone nearly broke her. With a muted smile she knew her friend couldn’t see, Lindsay breathed heavily into the receiver. "How do you think it went?" Immediately, she regretted the crabby statement. "Sorry, I just… it went. Didn't exactly expect it to go too well."

"That's true," Claire acknowledged softly. "So how do you feel?"

Lindsay managed a small, bitter smile. Leave it to Claire to slowly dig into her like her own personal therapist. That Claire had a habit of mothering them all never bothered her, but today…

"What do you mean?"

"Any regrets?"

"I really hurt him, Claire. This poor guy, who thought we were on the same level - hell I thought we were on the same level, and now… I mean… God, why do I do this? Why do I just wreck things? I did this to him, I did this to Tom." Her jaw clenched in frustration, mimicking her tightening chest. "What the hell am I doing, thinking it's okay to go and try to do this to Cindy?"

A moment of silence, and then she heard a soft, knowing sight. "So there it is."

Self conscious, she bit her lip. "What?"

"You're thinking that if you couldn't make it work with Tom, if you couldn't make it work with Pete, you've got no business getting involved with Cindy."

Matter-of-fact, to the point, and hauntingly true, because Lindsay was a wreck. She knew she was a wreck, and it was cruel to pull a bright light like Cindy into that kind of junkyard.

Her heart thudded painfully, and it was hard to swallow against the lump in her throat.

"You know Jill wants her," she divulged carefully.

Another quiet few seconds to process. "How do you know?"

"She told me," Lindsay admitted, shaking her head, palm smoothing down her forehead to the base of her neck, rubbing in agitation. "Said they had a connection; a spark."

"Well, that's true," Claire said, always willing to accept all sides. "But then again we all do. And I wasn't aware women were ultimately Jill's type."

"Yeah, I know," Lindsay agreed. "And she said that, but… "

"But what?"

Lindsay sucked in a pained breath. "But she gets her. She does. You've seen it, Claire. I mean, after all this time, Jill was the only one that knew about me. Jill was the only one she trusted. Hell, Jill -"

"Jill isn't who Cindy wants," Claire inserted smoothly.

Her insides contracted sharply, causing an unwelcome hitch of breath, and still…

"We don't know that for sure. If I… if I let this happened. Let her move on, then maybe…"

"You're right." Claire's answer seemed more conversational than anything else, as if she were just commenting on the weather. "Then maybe Jill could get past her fear of commitment and the knowledge that deep down, Cindy wanted you first, and maybe Cindy could get past her feelings for you and never look back and wonder what if and hook up with Jill, but honey, you're hinging on a lot of 'ifs'."

She was right. Of course she was right. Claire could be judgmental and had a tendency to over-hover but she always told her the truth. It was something she deeply cherished about her, especially when the majority of the people she both apprehended and questioned did nothing but lie.

"So here's another question," Claire continued. "Do you want Cindy?"

As if it was that simple. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, and Lindsay's heart felt bruised and battered from the self-imposed beating it had taken. And really, didn't it all boil down to that? Hadn't the last few months been simply about battling that question? As unknowing as she had been, the unrelenting pressure that had been building up inside of her at even the thought of things ending between she and Cindy; of someone else, anyone else, claiming Cindy's heart and taking her away from her, had superseded any thoughts about missing Pete.

Even the house seemed emptier now, hollow and missing the twinkling laugh of the little reporter who had settled into her own corner of the couch and carried her own key.

Lindsay's fingers battled a knot on her shoulder, rubbing in a rhythmic, distracted manner.

"Yes," she breathed. "But I don't think I deserve her."

Because she didn't. It had been wholly unfair, she knew it, to be okay with the fact that Cindy had been sacrificing her personal life to play her substitute companion. It wasn't okay to have such a problem with Cindy trying to move on; to feel so wholly possessive of a woman who she had never ever had permission to own, and just took from because she knew she could. Because it was safe to crave Cindy when there was a boyfriend to hide behind.

Claire breathed a heavy, audible sigh. "Maybe you don't. But Lindsay, it's not about what we deserve. Things happen to us whether we deserve them or not; good and bad. Ed didn't deserve to get a bullet in his spine, you didn't deserve Kiss-Me-Not ruining your marriage with Tom, but they happened, and we've accepted them and we've moved on. It's a little hypocritical to look into the eyes of a gorgeous woman who loves you, and knows you and wants you for who you are and tell yourself you don't deserve to have her. And honestly, to me, that sounds like an excuse."

Maybe it was. God knew, Lindsay had hid behind them forever.

"You know, when Pete looked at me today, after I told him what I did, there was this terrible thought that flashed through my head. The thought that if I did this with Cindy, one day I'd do the same thing, and God help me, Claire, I couldn't take her looking at me like that. If it was her that walked away from here, I don't think I could take it."

"Well," Claire answered a moment later, "You'd just have to make sure that that wouldn't happen, right?" Lindsay closed her eyes. "Lindsay, how about you focus on trying to figure out how to get this romance started before you start thinking about how it would end?"

Lindsay blinked, and her eyes opened.

--

When Jill opened her apartment door to Cindy, the small reporter opted for her brightest 'I'm sorry' smile and lifted a paper bag full of assorted treats.

"Frozen yogurt," she explained at the look of bemused contemplation on her friend's face. "With syrup and caramel and whipped cream and because I know you'll appreciate the dirty reference, cherries."

The confusion melted into a smile, and Jill pushed her door open wider, allowing her to walk past her and into her living room.

Once inside, and under Jill's watchful silence, Cindy felt her pasted on smile fade in favor of a rather stilted one. "It's my way of apologizing," she said quietly. "You know, for running out of the office this morning like a coward with my tail between my legs. And then ignoring your calls."

Still in her suit, but without her blazer, Jill slipped her hands in her pockets and regarded her, wearing a clouded look on her face that was neither encouraging nor confidence boosting, all things considered.

Cindy's gaze went to the floor, but then she felt a shift of weight, and slender arms plucking the bag out of her arms. Her head lifted, and she beheld Jill heading to the kitchen with it.

"So what kind of flavor of ice cream didja get?" came the overly conversational voice.

Grateful for even that, Cindy bit her bottom lip in unspoken relief and followed her, leaning into the doorway and allowing Jill to discover that for herself, as the other woman plucked the procured offerings out of her bag and set them on the counter.

"Vanilla and Pralines and Cream," Jill noted. "You're a purist."

"Only when it comes to toppings," Cindy admitted, feeling a blush flush onto her face for no other reason than the fact that Jill was now looking at her as if she wanted to pat her on the head. "You need a simple base if you're really going to savor the complex city that comes with the layering of flavors."

Jill's fingers froze. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"I put a lot of thought into everything," she agreed humbly. "I can't really help it. It's my brain. It never really turns… off."

Jill understood this, at least she appeared to. She tossed a smile at her that was both indulgent and charming. Reaching for the bowls, Jill uncapped the container. "So, how was work?"

"Work was…" Cindy shrugged, and found she didn't even have the energy for polite smalltalk. "Ya know, hell." Jill's movement stilled. "What happened?" Cindy blurted, unable to help herself. "I mean, seriously? What happened? Did I totally leave you in a lurch?"

Jill, not usually the type to clam up, simply glanced back down at the chilled containers, taking a moment to issue a labored sigh which, in Cindy's opinion, wasn't the most encouraging thing she had ever done.

"Lindsay didn't shoot me," the other woman said finally, back in action, scooping out spoonfuls of frozen yogurt and depositing them into two small bowls. "But she wasn't exactly thrilled."

Nausea suddenly rose in her throat, and Cindy's head fell against the wooden doorway. Chest rising, then falling, she tried hard to clear her head from any sort of stupid questions that she was suddenly desperate for answers to. "Do they," she tried, panting an unable to suppress it. "Do they still think that we… you know…"

"That we slept together?" Fingers dripping with caramel, Jill licked the sauce off her fingertips, and grabbed the bowls, walking carefully to her and holding one out for her to take. "No, they don't. I set them straight on that." Jill's mouth flattened into a thin line, and then her eyes averted as she moved past Cindy's shoulder. "I set Lindsay straight about a lot of things."

Her eyes to widened, and an irrational fear jerked into her heart as she swiveled on her heel and followed Jill quickly into the living room. "What does that mean?"

But Jill was being infuriating, settling down on the couch and purposefully digging into the sundae she had made for herself, shoveling a heaping spoonful into her mouth.

In no mood to eat, Cindy could only helplessly sink down beside her, watch as Jill winced slightly, and indicated to her temple. "Brain freeze," she mumbled, before swallowing.

"Jill!" Cindy snapped, losing her patience.

"Cindy?" She placed the sundae on the coffee table in front of her and then turned scrutinizing eyes toward Cindy. "When you talked about giving up on Lindsay, you know, moving on, were you serious?"

What kind of question was that?

Face flaming hot, Cindy now found her heart hammering unsteadily against her chest, and she fumbled with her bowl, setting it fast on the coffee table before she spilled the melting pile all over herself. "Come on, Jill."

The expression Jill was giving her was impossible to read, and when the other woman suddenly leaned forward and opened her mouth against hers, Cindy was ill prepared. She gasped with surprise, and the result was Jill's tongue sweeping in, tangling gently with her own. Unsure of the motive, Cindy simply kissed her back sweetly, too overwhelmed to question Jill or her intentions, palm lifting to press her fingers against Jill's chin, and carefully, pulling back.

The knot in her stomach had only tightened when Jill, face inches from her own, let her tongue dart around her mouth and then offered her a bittersweet smile.

"That was for me," Jill said hoarsely, and eyes widening, Cindy gasped, head now swimming, heartbeat racing. "Because I've wanted to do that sober. For a while now."

"Jill," she began, voice thick and full of regret.

Hearing that, Jill didn't even let her finish. She just shook her head quickly. "No, I- I know it wouldn't work. I wasn't expecting anything, I just… I just wanted to. While I had the chance." Eyes wide with emotion, the lump in Cindy's throat prevented her from questioning what Jill meant by that, so the bombshell lawyer continued. "And I think that answered a lot, don't you?" Though Jill's eyes seemed to glisten, the other woman was still smiling. "You're not ready to give up on Lindsay. I shouldn't have pushed you."

The tone was flat, no room for argument, and even though Cindy's mouth opened, ready to argue, she found she didn't have the words, or the gumption.

Unwillingly, her eyes began to sting with unshed tears, and she laughed dryly, slumping against the couch and lifting her head to the ceiling. "This is some fucked up shit right here."

It was the most crass she had been with Jill, but thankfully, the wonderful thing about Jill, was that she could be.

Beside her, fingers smoothed over her palm and tangled with hers. Exhaling raggedly, Cindy automatically squeezed, grateful for the connection.

"So I'm going to tell you three things," she heard, after an extended bit of silence. "And you're going to listen to them, and then you're going to go home and process them, and tomorrow, I hope like hell we can still be friends."

The statement was oddly endearing, and too emotionally spent to do anything but quirk an eyebrow at her suddenly insecure friend.

"Jill, we're always going to be-"

"Uhuh, wait until you hear what I'm going to tell you," Jill said quickly, and then took a deep breath, not really allowing Cindy to absorb that before she began, "One. No matter what happens, I still want us to go out. Hang out, whatever. Because I really like hanging out with you and I think we kill in those bars, and God knows I need a regular sex life with hot bar boys to stay sane."

Lips twitching, Cindy nodded. "Sure."

"Okay." Jill bit her lip, as if steeling herself, and launched forward again. "Two. Lindsay is breaking up with Pete. Tonight. She's probably broken up with him already." Cindy's heart dropped suddenly down into her stomach, and the sensation made her breathless. "And the reason that she did that is … number three." Jill sucked in a pant that ended in a swallow.

"What's number three?" Cindy asked, whispering and barely hearing herself over the blood rushing into her ears.

Jill hesitated, and then began, "Three is that Lindsay knows how you feel." Jill eyed her apologetically. "I may have told her that you're pathetically blindingly disgustedly in love with her. It slipped out."

--

Keys. Gun. Jacket.

Lindsay Boxer stepped out of her house and locked it firmly behind her with shaking hands.

Running fingers through her wavy brunette locks, she took a moment to steel herself, and tried hard to steady her pounding heartbeat as she headed down the steps and toward her Jeep and to what was quite possibly the most frightening conversation of her life.

If Cindy would even let her in the front door.

Even so, pure resolve kept Lindsay from turning and taking the coward's way out. Her finger itched for her cell phone, to make good use of the text messaging feature that Cindy loved so much to try and spell out what she had to say that way.

At least that way, she didn't risk any slaps to the face or any other sort of reaction or rejection given to her by Cindy for months of being treated as a back up quarterback.

So intent on reaching the car and not chickening out, Lindsay nearly tripped over her boots when she plunged a shaking key into her jeep's car door and discovered an unmistakably familiar little red car parked down the street, with what appeared to be an equally unmistakable redhead in the driver's seat.

Frozen, Lindsay found her breathing immediately go unsteady, and pulled her key out of the car door, immediately hiking toward Cindy's car. The fact that Cindy was still in it and had yet to see her was cause for concern, and against her better judgment, Lindsay was almost grateful for that. It gave her a reason to focus, other than her own lovesick paranoia, and made approaching the very woman she was going to see infinitely easier.

Coming closer, she hesitated yet again when it became clear that Cindy still didn’t see her. The younger woman instead seemed to be speaking into thin air, eyes on her dashboard, and consequently, Lindsay nearly felt bad about tapping hesitantly on the driver's side window and startling Cindy so much the other woman jumped and banged her head on the glass.

"Cindy!'

Cindy Thomas rubbed her head ruefully, eyeing her with wide brown eyes and an utter flabbergasted expression, before common sense finally caught up to the little reporter and she rolled down the window.

"Hi."

The smile that floated on her face, a combination of unintended amusement, nerves and being utterly besotted, didn't seem to help. "Hi," she whispered carefully. Hands spread on the window, and Lindsay leaned forward, feeling her pulse quicken, fingers squeezing as a result. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh…" Cindy still seemed to be in shock. She placed her hands on her wheel, as if she could drive away at any second, and then began to look anywhere but Lindsay, fumbling with her air conditioning, and then unexpectedly raising the volume on her radio.

They both winced when Maggie's surprisingly good sound system blasted into their eardrums.

Immediately, Lindsay leaned forward past Cindy and turned the knob the other way.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, trying hard to both keep her patience and ignore the ringing in her ears.

"I promised Jill I'd come," came the strangled reply.

The mention of her best friend and unintended rival caused a rather uncomfortable clog of emotion. Swallowing hard, Lindsay tried hard to stay casual. "Oh, okay. You've talked to Jill, then."

Impossibly round eyes grew even rounder. "I killed her."

To say the statement threw her would be an understatement. "Say that again? You did what?"

"Metaphorically," Cindy amended, and gripped the steering wheel so hard, her knuckles were white. "In my head. I've killed her a thousand times."

The conversation had taken a surreal turn, and unfortunately with Cindy Thomas, that was becoming a regular occurrence.

Resisting the urge to smile, Lindsay stilled the impulse to reach forward and gently smooth an errant bang away from a smooth milky forehead, keeping her arms crossed as she relaxed into the door. "Oh, really."

"Oh yeah," Cindy responded, sounding out of breath and still high pitched. "I've strangled her. Lit her on fire. By execution squad. Drowned her with cats."

"With cats?" she repeated.

"Sure. You know. In a big bag. With a bunch of angry cats. Threw her in the ocean." Cindy's fingers locked harder around the wheel, and she looked at Lindsay with a completely serious stare. "Except in that one she became Cat Woman instead of actually dying and went on to wreak havoc over San Francisco. And you had to start wearing a batsuit."

There was nothing Lindsay could say to that, except, "Would that make you Vicki Vale?"

A high pitched, strangled laugh was her answer. "Ironically, I was Robin."

"You've thought about this an awful lot," Lindsay answered breathlessly, now stuck with mental imagines of Jill in leather and Cindy in white tights and yellow shoes.

"I've been here for an hour."

An hour. The statement was immediately sobering. Lindsay felt her fingers tighten on the door, her heart jerk in protest. "Do you want to come in?"

Cindy blinked at her, the color gone from her face, and she glanced helplessly at her hands, still in a death grip with her steering wheel. "I can't seem to let go."

"Oh." Unsteadily, Lindsay carefully reached in, and with as gentle a touch as she could muster, began to peel Cindy's fingers off the vinyl covered steering wheel, feeling a sudden rush of air expelled from Cindy's lips blow right against her ear, making her teeth clench in reaction. Cindy's hands were actively trembling, and noting that, Lindsay found herself unrelentingly tender, smoothing her palms over Cindy's hand, ever careful as she redeposited the hands in the lap of their owner.

Turning her head, she discovered brown eyes inches from her own, and her own voice failed her, full focus instead engaged in searching the large brown orbs of the younger face staring at her with a mixture of morbid curiosity and absolute hunger.

Closing her eyes before she jumped an embarrassing gun, Lindsay pursed her mouth and bobbed her head, carefully extracting herself from Cindy's car, purposely jamming her hands into her back pocket and shifting her weight back on her heels. "Do you want to come in?" she asked again, desperate for a yes.

That seemed to do something, at least, as Cindy stared down at her lap and then fumbled for the door, jerking the door open and unsteadily climbing out, until she leaned against the car door, and wrapped her arms around her waist, staring at the gravel and anywhere but Lindsay's face.

"Were you on your way somewhere?"

Lindsay bit her lip, and nodded slowly. "On my way to see you, actually."

The red hair bobbed, and Lindsay was treated to a beautiful, startled expression, complete with pouty red lips and a flush across striking cheekbones. "Oh."

Still, Cindy's feet seemed planted to the ground, and her friend made no attempt to move.

Casting her house a longing glance, Lindsay felt her fingers curl inside the pockets of her jeans, and she kicked at a pebble, trying hard to alleviate her own nervous frustration.

"Listen, Cindy-"

"I'minlovewithyou."

Statement blurted, mangled, it still rang in Lindsay's ears as if it had been trumpeted by horns. Mouth falling open, Lindsay stared, and Cindy's face was now very, very red, and she was openly twitching.

Now panting, Lindsay was in no shape to utter anything, but an idiotic, "What?"

A trembling finger lifted up to swing that bang that Lindsay had been eying so longingly earlier back behind Cindy's ear. "I love you." Cindy said it again, and this time, it seemed more unbelievable than the first. "I know Jill told you. But I had to say it. I've been in love with you for a while now, and it's not going away, and believe me I've tried to make it go away, and I can't. And the thing is, I've realized that I really don't want it to. Because it feels right. Loving you. I mean, I don't know what that means, but I just… I've never felt like this about anyone, and I know I'm young, but I don't think that matters, because I can go my whole life walking around being with people and wishing they were you, but at least now you know about it. So… that's what I came here to say, and that's all, really, so I'm going to get into my car-" Hands fumbled for the handle, and immediately Lindsay was filled with a resounding panic at the sight.

With an almost superhuman quickness, she grabbed hold of the opening door and pushed it closed, trapping Cindy between herself and the unyielding car door. She was free to feel now, the way Cindy's breathless pants caused her chest to rise and fall against her sinewy form, the way her own heart seemed to match Cindy's pulsing one, beat for beat. The heat that burned between them, and there it was, that heady desire, the overwhelming passion that caused the dark need in her eyes, and the throbbing ache in her groin.

And, God, this was just from… THIS. From LEANING.

Jesus Christ.

Swallowing hard, Lindsay looked intensely into the upturned face, searching for purchase. "I haven't been a good friend to you, I know that. And I'm a disaster area in every aspect of my personal life, but we work, Cindy. Last night, when Pete came and you left, I couldn't stand it. I wanted you to stay with me, and not just because I got used to you, but because I needed you. Please, please, please don't say everything you just said to me, and give me the whole damned world, and then take it away by leaving. Tell me we have a chance to figure this out, because I'm crazy about you, too."

A moment where Cindy did nothing, just stared up at her with wide brown eyes that before Lindsay could always read and now said nothing at all. Lindsay's fingers clutched the car door desperately, and not just to keep Cindy from leaving, but to keep herself from keeling over, her knees from buckling.

"It's been a really long day," she heard dizzily. Cindy's hands smoothed over hers, and distracted by the contact, the feel of Cindy touching her forcing her dark eyes to her hands, until Cindy's voice pulled her back to Cindy's face. The other woman looked breathless, and frightened out of her mind. "And I really… I really need to process this. Because that was so not what I was expecting to hear."

Confused, unsure, Lindsay felt as if she had been struck. "What were you expecting to hear?"

"Batman wasn't gay, for one," Cindy offered helpfully, voice wavering.

Lindsay's laugh was strangled, off-pitch. "Can I prove it to you? Please. Let's go inside. We can talk about this-"

Her eyes dropped down, studied the lack of space between them. "I'm um… I need to process this, and if I go inside, I think I might… I might do something neither of us are ready for." Head lifting, white teeth bit down on a plump bottom lip. "Can you let me go?"

There it was, the very question Lindsay had dreaded hearing.

"Just give me some time. To figure this out. In my head. My heart is saying one thing and my head is saying another and I just need some time to catch up… I mean you just broke up with Pete… right?"

The insecurity in Cindy's voice was enough to have her nodding violently, but her smile was stilted, pained.

"The thing is, Lindsay. I need to make myself figure out how to believe you."

She hesitated, considered just lowering her head and pushing through Cindy's hesitations with a searing kiss planted across her lips, but…

But…

"Okay," she managed, suddenly unaware of the tears until they were hotly sliding down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them, simply did what she could to move away from a heaving chest and a gorgeous face, pushing against the car door and setting little Cindy free. "Okay," she said again, as if to reassure herself. "If what you need is time then…okay."

And maybe this was her chance to prove herself. Make her believe.

"Thanks," came the barely there whisper.

Head down, Lindsay waited for the opening of the car door, the inevitable turn of the ignition that would signify Cindy taking advantage of her freedom and driving away from her.

Instead, she found a pale hand smoothing up her chest and fingers digging into her nape, and her head lifting long enough to feel soft lips plowing into hers. Tripping backwards with surprise, Lindsay groaned raggedly in response, and wrapped her arms tightly around the woman kissing her, fingers grabbing bunches of Cindy's shirt and wrinkling it in her fists. Cindy's tongue licked at her lips wetly, and her mouth opened gladly, searching her out and feeling her own tongue sucked gently into Cindy's mouth.

Heads tilted, lips pressed, and then with heaving pants, Cindy broke free, nibbled once more on her lower lip and fought with Lindsay's hands, pulling them back down her sides. "I'm sorry," Cindy breathed, panting hard, head tilting against hers. "I couldn't… I needed to…I need to-"

Surging forward, Lindsay kissed her again, mouth sliding hungrily over Cindy's, but this time Cindy kissed her for only a second, before fingers dug into her nape and her mouth pulled raggedly away. "I still have to go," she whispered, and nothing had changed, and fingers squeezed, and let go, before Cindy scrambled into her car, and then turned pleading brown eyes up to her. "Please tell me you can wait."

Though she desperately wanted more, NEEDED more, Lindsay had no other choice. Breathlessly, she managed to nod her head in a shaky yes, and palm against her gasping mouth, she watched as Cindy drove away.

-- end chapter six

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