Fic: Sorority
Title: Sorority
Author: Demeter
Fandom: Women's Murder Club et al.
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
Summary: Charlotte Madison always wanted to change the world to the better. At the age of 80, she finally has the money to do so, but she still needs to enlist some help.
A/N: This is going to be a universe I intend to play in every now and then, with some familiar faces besides the WMC girls. Also, y'all know that every fanfic I write is just an excuse to ship Lindsay and Cindy. I cannot help it.
At first he'd thought that she was sleeping, and he jumped when she turned her chair around to look right at him. He imagined he was detecting a small smirk on her face, but since she was sitting in the half-dark, he couldn't know for sure.
"You're easily startled," she remarked. "If I didn't know you better... well, it's a good thing I do know you better."
"Funny, Charlotte," he said. "We can do this another time though, if you're tired."
"I'm not tired."
"All right. Can we turn on a light?"
Charlotte Madison laughed with mirth, and it was moments like this that Martin almost forgot that she was eighty years old. "Help yourself," she said. "I can't wait to get started!"
She waited with barely hidden impatience as he laid a pile of thick files onto the huge oak desk and then began to set up a Power Point presentation. It didn't take him long, just enough time to once again wonder how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Martin Brody was, officially, an attorney who had made a name when he defended a woman who had shot her abusive husband. The case had attracted a lot of interest, and also Charlie Madison's.
When they first met, he realized soon that she hadn't based her opinion on one single case; she had studied up on his career, his goals and his beliefs. Five years ago, he had obviously passed the test, because she still employed him. Now, they were only days away from starting a project that had taken years of preparation and for which Charlotte was willing to spend a fortune to life it off the ground.
"Let's start in San Francisco," she said. "I've always had a soft spot."
Martin had learned quickly not to underestimate her. Charlotte's reasons weren't all that sentimental.
With one click, the picture of a young woman appeared on the screen. "Cindy Thomas, works for the San Francisco Register," he explained.
Charlotte nodded. "I remember reading one of her stories. I liked it. It's excactly what we need, someone who's sharp and compassionate. Let's start with her."
"I don't know." Martin frowned. "She's young."
"So was I, once," Charlotte shot back. "What else have you got?"
Martin continued his presentation as image by image flickered over the white wall. "She also has ties to the police department, an unofficial network."
Charlotte leaned closer and regarded the reporter with interest. "This is just getting better. So what is going to make her say 'yes'? Any weak spot?"
"Her," Martin said, pointing at the next picture. Cindy Thomas was to be seen talking animatedly to another woman, tall, dark-haired, wearing a detective's badge.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Would I ever?"
"You better not." Charlotte smiled, obviously pleased with the turn of events. "Tell me more about them."
"Inspector Lindsay Boxer, Homicide. There's clearly more going on than professially networking, but surprisingly enough, they seem unaware."
"So we can be blatant."
"Absolutely," Martin agreed. "But let's get back to work for a moment. We still have Chicago and Boston... among others."
Charlotte listened attentively without any further interruption as Martin listed names, professions and the relationship of the women mentioned. Jill Bernhardt, Alicia Florrick, Maura Isles, Gillian Foster. Finally, he had closed the tenth and last of the files. Martin would start early tomorrow. He was looking forward to the drive. Charlotte's enthusiasm was infectious. "So I'll drive down to San Francisco tomorrow and do the rest over the phone." It had been talked about many times.
"Oh, Martin, before you go..." She handed him an envelope.
Martin peeked inside and groaned. "No way, Charlie!"
"Way." She smiled amiably. "It has to be done in person, what did you think?"
"You want me to fly to--"
"I believed the addresses are listed in the files. And take a plane to San Francisco too, it's faster."
"But Ms. Madison..."
"Don't 'Ms.' me. Let's have a drink now and then I'll have someone drive you to the airport." She knew damn well that he had a raging fear of flying, but that hadn't kept her from chagning plans at last moment's notice. With Charlotte, he should have expected something like this to happen. He felt a little uneasy at the thought of hours to be spent in the air in the next few days, but of course, it was for the greater good.
"And remember what we said, no exception. I want all of them here."
"Flatter, bribe, hit over the head if necessary."
Charlotte laughed. "You pay attention to what a woman is saying. I like that about you."
Author: Demeter
Fandom: Women's Murder Club et al.
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
Summary: Charlotte Madison always wanted to change the world to the better. At the age of 80, she finally has the money to do so, but she still needs to enlist some help.
A/N: This is going to be a universe I intend to play in every now and then, with some familiar faces besides the WMC girls. Also, y'all know that every fanfic I write is just an excuse to ship Lindsay and Cindy. I cannot help it.
At first he'd thought that she was sleeping, and he jumped when she turned her chair around to look right at him. He imagined he was detecting a small smirk on her face, but since she was sitting in the half-dark, he couldn't know for sure.
"You're easily startled," she remarked. "If I didn't know you better... well, it's a good thing I do know you better."
"Funny, Charlotte," he said. "We can do this another time though, if you're tired."
"I'm not tired."
"All right. Can we turn on a light?"
Charlotte Madison laughed with mirth, and it was moments like this that Martin almost forgot that she was eighty years old. "Help yourself," she said. "I can't wait to get started!"
She waited with barely hidden impatience as he laid a pile of thick files onto the huge oak desk and then began to set up a Power Point presentation. It didn't take him long, just enough time to once again wonder how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Martin Brody was, officially, an attorney who had made a name when he defended a woman who had shot her abusive husband. The case had attracted a lot of interest, and also Charlie Madison's.
When they first met, he realized soon that she hadn't based her opinion on one single case; she had studied up on his career, his goals and his beliefs. Five years ago, he had obviously passed the test, because she still employed him. Now, they were only days away from starting a project that had taken years of preparation and for which Charlotte was willing to spend a fortune to life it off the ground.
"Let's start in San Francisco," she said. "I've always had a soft spot."
Martin had learned quickly not to underestimate her. Charlotte's reasons weren't all that sentimental.
With one click, the picture of a young woman appeared on the screen. "Cindy Thomas, works for the San Francisco Register," he explained.
Charlotte nodded. "I remember reading one of her stories. I liked it. It's excactly what we need, someone who's sharp and compassionate. Let's start with her."
"I don't know." Martin frowned. "She's young."
"So was I, once," Charlotte shot back. "What else have you got?"
Martin continued his presentation as image by image flickered over the white wall. "She also has ties to the police department, an unofficial network."
Charlotte leaned closer and regarded the reporter with interest. "This is just getting better. So what is going to make her say 'yes'? Any weak spot?"
"Her," Martin said, pointing at the next picture. Cindy Thomas was to be seen talking animatedly to another woman, tall, dark-haired, wearing a detective's badge.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Would I ever?"
"You better not." Charlotte smiled, obviously pleased with the turn of events. "Tell me more about them."
"Inspector Lindsay Boxer, Homicide. There's clearly more going on than professially networking, but surprisingly enough, they seem unaware."
"So we can be blatant."
"Absolutely," Martin agreed. "But let's get back to work for a moment. We still have Chicago and Boston... among others."
Charlotte listened attentively without any further interruption as Martin listed names, professions and the relationship of the women mentioned. Jill Bernhardt, Alicia Florrick, Maura Isles, Gillian Foster. Finally, he had closed the tenth and last of the files. Martin would start early tomorrow. He was looking forward to the drive. Charlotte's enthusiasm was infectious. "So I'll drive down to San Francisco tomorrow and do the rest over the phone." It had been talked about many times.
"Oh, Martin, before you go..." She handed him an envelope.
Martin peeked inside and groaned. "No way, Charlie!"
"Way." She smiled amiably. "It has to be done in person, what did you think?"
"You want me to fly to--"
"I believed the addresses are listed in the files. And take a plane to San Francisco too, it's faster."
"But Ms. Madison..."
"Don't 'Ms.' me. Let's have a drink now and then I'll have someone drive you to the airport." She knew damn well that he had a raging fear of flying, but that hadn't kept her from chagning plans at last moment's notice. With Charlotte, he should have expected something like this to happen. He felt a little uneasy at the thought of hours to be spent in the air in the next few days, but of course, it was for the greater good.
"And remember what we said, no exception. I want all of them here."
"Flatter, bribe, hit over the head if necessary."
Charlotte laughed. "You pay attention to what a woman is saying. I like that about you."