WMC Drabble Dump
051. Restaurant
It was in some unfamiliar restaurant Lindsay wandered into. If she could go back in time, she would. If she knew what waited for her on the opposite side of the heavy wooden door, she would’ve gone to any other restaurant in the city. Or in the state for that matter. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, they automatically locked onto a head of red-hair. And the crop of dark hair seated in front of that particular head of hair.
Lindsay observed the brunette across from Cindy and finally recognized the face. Zodiac Girl. Lindsay’s chest tightened and watched as the girl let her foot brush Cindy’s calf. Cindy smiled and before Lindsay knew it, the two women, situated in the middle booth against the wall, engaged in a nauseating - at least to Lindsay - game of footsie. They might as well should’ve double teamed Lindsay and sucker punched her. Lindsay put a hand to her stomach, as if the blow had been real.
“How many in your party, Miss?” The hostess asked, coming up to Lindsay as she stood awkwardly in the lobby.
“Uh. None,” Lindsay rasped out with a glance to the hostess. “Sorry.” She spared a quick glance over to Cindy and brown eyes met brown for a split second before Lindsay made a hasty exit through the door.
052. Movie
Lindsay knocked back the last of her bourbon and signaled the bartender for another round. Jill gave Lindsay a glance. “Do you really need anoth-”
“My life’s a movie,” Lindsay interrupted. “A ridiculous movie. It’s not even a romantic comedy. It’s like… a horrible indie movie that people come out wondering if they can get the two hours of their life and eight dollars back.”
“Oh?” Jill asked and typed rapidly into her BlackBerry.
“Yeah. Except you know how most movies have a happy ending after the two love interests face some sort of downfall… Argument…” Lindsay waved her newly filled glass in the air, effectively sloshing some of the bourbon over the rim and onto her hand. “Thing.” She set the glass down and licked the bourbon off. “This movie,” Lindsay pointed to herself and took a drink. “Clearly doesn’t have one.”
Jill glanced at her phone as it lit up, then looked to the doorway. Lindsay followed her gaze and there in the doorway, illuminated by neon lights of various beer signs, was Cindy Thomas.
“Maybe it does,” Jill murmured.
053. Wait
“Would you wait a second?” Lindsay asked, hurrying after Cindy as best she could with five bourbons in her system. It was times like these that Lindsay thanked her genes for her long legs. She grabbed Cindy’s elbow and turned the red head toward her and backed her against the wall of a nearby building.
“Wait for what Cindy? For you to tell me about whoever else you slept with?”
Lindsay winced, “Cindy, it’s not like that. It happened once. Before you and I ever… Y’know. You and I were just friends at the time.”
“And that makes cheating okay?”
“No!” Lindsay let go of Cindy and let out a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t… What do you want me to do about it now!?” Lindsay’s own anger seeped through.
Cindy sighed and looked away for a few moments and shook her head. She turned back to Lindsay and for the first time, felt stronger than the older woman. The Inspector fidgeted, unnerved by both the silence and the look Cindy was giving her. Cindy took Lindsay’s hand in her own and squeezed it. “Just answer me this, Lindsay,” she said, her tone serious. Lindsay looked at her and nodded.
“Am I a better kisser than Tom?”
Lindsay grinned. “Absolutely.”
Cindy smiled and pulled Lindsay close to her.
“You sure?”
Lindsay answered by swooping in for a hard kiss that left the red-head breathless and earned a whoop of joy from a small group of passersby. “Positive.”
054. Patient
“And how’s our patient doing this evening?” Cindy asked as Lindsay opened her apartment door. Cindy’s “patient’s” nose was red and she looked… pathetic, for lack of a better word. And really, Cindy prided herself on her vocabulary, but there wasn’t a better adjective to describe the ill Inspector.
“Real funny, Thomas,” Lindsay gruffed, her voice raspier than usual. Cindy smirked and put the back of her hand to Lindsay’s forehead and the smirk instantly disappeared.
“Lindsay, you’re super hot!”
“I’m not that-”
“Go to bed right now. I’ll fix you something to eat and… What?”
“Fix me something,” Lindsay started eyeing the brown paper bag, “Or…”
“Fine. I’ll warm you up my mom’s chicken stew,” Cindy rolled her eyes and gently nudged Lindsay with her hip toward the bedroom.
Lindsay smiled and sniffed. “Thanks Nurse Thomas.”
“Welcome, my little patient. Now go.”
055. Crime
“If loving this is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.”
“Ah, jeez…”
“If loving this is a crime, then lock me up.”
“Cindy-”
“If loving this is-mmph. Hey!” Cindy pried at Lindsay’s fingers as they clamped over her mouth.
“Actually, it’s a crime to use so many clichés in one sitting,” Lindsay muttered. “Let alone one lifetime.”
“C’mon Linds. How else is a girl supposed to show her appreciation?” Cindy asked.
“Maybe by, I don’t know, actually being quiet and watching the movie?” Lindsay answered and settled deeper into the arm rest.
“If-”
“Thomas, you say one more word and it’ll be a crime against humanity. And my ears. And I will arrest you for Obstruction.”
“Of justice?”
“Of movie-watching. Shh.”
056. Choke
They kept throwing glances across the table. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, brown on brown, before they darted away to find something else to focus on. Lindsay let the smallest of smiles sneak out the corner of her mouth. Cindy bit her lip and stirred her soda, watching the ice cubes.
A set of cool, blue eyes volleyed back and forth between the two and they rolled heavenward with a heavy sigh.
“I swear I’m going to choke on this flood of teenage hormones,” she muttered and gathered up her briefcase and BlackBerry. She slid out of the booth and was met with a sheepish blush from Cindy and slightly-bigger-than-before grin from the Inspector. The two besotted women again glanced at each other once more and Jill gagged. She held a hand to her throat and with a flourish that a soap opera director would be proud of, stumbled through the doorway coughing and choking.
057. Fever
Lindsay let herself into Cindy’s apartment; arms loaded with Gatorade and canned Chicken Noodle Soup. It wasn’t Mrs. Thomas’s secret recipe chicken noodle soup, but it was as close as Lindsay would get after three failed attempts at making it herself. The phone call alone to Mrs. Thomas to ask for the recipe was nerve-wracking enough - and Lindsay was a cop for crying out loud.
Lindsay toed the door close with her boot and shuffled into Cindy’s kitchen, careful not to disturb the sleeping red-head that lay somewhere beneath the seventeen (okay four) blankets. She set the items down in the kitchen, grabbed a Gatorade and headed back to the blanket mound that was Cindy-I-have-a-fever-thanks-to-you-and-your-flu Thomas.
Lindsay opened the bottle and stuck in a swirly plastic straw before she lightly nudged Cindy, “Wake up, Lois Lane.”
“Mmph,” replied the blanketed heap.
“Still have a fever?” Lindsay asked and began to peel away layers.
“Mm-hmm.”
“They say fevers are good for you, y’know,” Lindsay supplied as she uncovered Cindy and brushed a few strands of red away from her forehead.
Cindy merely blinked sleepily at the older woman.
“They kill the bad stuff in your body. Or try to anyway,” Lindsay shrugged. “So you probably shouldn’t have so many blankets. Don’t want to overheat. But you know what helps best?”
“Gatorade with a straw that looks like something I used when I was three?” Cindy asked, voice scratchy.
Lindsay shook her head and offered a small smile, “That. And this.” She leaned forward and placed a soft, long kiss to Cindy’s lips.
“I feel better already,” Cindy murmured and took a sip, watching the purple Gatorade find its way through the twists and turns of the silly straw.
058. Summer
“Summer should be banned. Seriously,” Cindy commented as she and Lindsay exited the cool air conditioned House of Boxer and made their way down the steps. Cindy slipped on her sunglasses and shoved her purse into Lindsay’s unsuspecting hands.
“What’re you-” Lindsay began to ask but stopped when Cindy began unbuttoning her top.
“Too hot.”
“Uh, you do know we’re in public, right? And technically I could arrest you for Public Nudity.” Lindsay said and tried to keep her eyes forward - away from the pale limbs that continued to work the buttons on Cindy’s shirt.
“Why Inspector,” Cindy said, full on accent in place. She flashed a grin and suggestively wiggled the flaps of her open top, “Is that blush on your cheeks from the sun or from little ol’ me?”
“Depends. Is that horrible southern accent from the sun or did you steal it from Scarlett O’Hara?” Lindsay asked, throwing an annoyed glance at the red-head. She forgot how observant the reporter could be. Cindy slipped off her top at that exact moment and Lindsay stopped short, eyes frozen on the bikini top Cindy wore underneath. Lindsay’s jaw dropped open at the sight before her.
“Careful Inspector,” Cindy remarked grabbing her purse from Lindsay’s still hands, “Or I’ll have to make a citizen’s arrest for ogling. Or whatever the offense is officially called.” She gently tapped the bottom of Lindsay’s jaw, effectively closing it shut before she continued on her way, a sway to her step.
059. Eat
“No way.”
“C’mon! Eat.”
“Absolutely not. I value my life, thank you.”
“Really?” Lindsay asked, hand on her hip. “Coulda fooled me with all the trouble you get into.”
“Hey,” Cindy pointed a finger at Lindsay, “I don’t hear you complain about it when my so called ‘trouble making’” Cindy said, using air quotes to emphasize the words, “gets you a criminal or twenty behind bars.”
“That’s all I complain about! And hey,” Lindsay said, realizing that once again, Cindy had used one of her many talents - straying away from the topic at hand - “Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” she said and wiggled the dish in front of Cindy.
“Linds, I’m not hungry,” Cindy moaned. “Or suicidal,” she added under her breath.
“Eat.”
Cindy shook her head in the negative.
“Fine. Then I’m never cooking again,” Lindsay muttered and turned away, tossing the food into the trash.
“Whew,” Cindy said, happy that she wouldn’t have to ingest the charred remains of what was supposedly a casserole.
Lindsay sighed inaudibly to herself and grinned as she scrapped the plate clean. There really was no easier way to get out of cooking duty. She turned back to Cindy. “In that case, how ‘bout you make some lasagna?” She winked and ruffled Cindy’s hair and sauntered out of the kitchen.
Cindy, realizing she had been duped, slapped a hand to her forehead. “Not fair, Lindsay!”
“Get to cookin’ Thomas,” was the far too cheerful reply.
060. Thirst
Lindsay cracked open and eye and tried to swallow. She stumbled out of bed, slipped on a tank top and shorts then headed straight to the kitchen to battle her thirst. Maybe a bit of water would get rid of the desert that seemed to have taken up residence in her mouth overnight. Five large glasses of water later and slightly more aware of her surroundings, Lindsay ambled back to her room and lifted the glass to her lips. She stopped short and sputtered mid-gulp.
There, lying in tangled sheets was an all too familiar crop of red hair. Lindsay wiped the water from her chin, eyes wide.
She almost dropped her glass but saved it at the last second when Cindy began to wake up. She watched the red-head orient herself and look around the bedroom. When Cindy’s eyes met Lindsay’s, the reporter let out a raspy “Eep!” and pulled the sheet up to cover herself. Though really, by now it was pretty much pointless to be modest.
Lindsay slowly walked to the bed and sat down, back toward Cindy. Lindsay Boxer didn’t consider herself to be neither an eloquent nor talkative person the morning after a heavy night of drinking. With that, she said the only thing she could think of when faced with having her friend naked in her bed. “Thirsty?”
Cindy took the glass and drained it within seconds.
061. Chance
She knew she only had one chance to get it out - to say what she needed to say before she lost her nerve and made up some silly excuse about showing up uninvited at Cindy’s door. Still, Lindsay found herself to be irrevocably mute as she stared into Cindy’s eyes.
The young reporter stared, half-awake, at the Inspector who showed up at her door at three in the morning. She noticed Lindsay’s usual scent was mixed with a faint whiff of bourbon. She eyed Lindsay. “Lindsay? What’s up?”
Lindsay pursed her lips before licking them. She inwardly berated herself at coming to Cindy’s doorstep after a few too many drinks.
Jill had once accused Lindsay that the only two things that gave Lindsay courage were her gun and alcohol. It was in that logic that Lindsay found the courage in alcohol. Because really, she let out a small smile, she didn’t think she’d quite get the right impression if she had used her gun to talk with Cindy.
“Lindsay? You’re kind of creeping me out with the grinning mute act.”
Lindsay shook her head. Okay Boxer. Now’s your chance. Go.
Lindsay teetered forward and stopped herself short. She took a step back and shook her head, effectively chickening out.
“Sorry Thomas, I’ll come back tomo-”
She was interrupted when Cindy, now more awake, pulled Lindsay’s lips to her own by means of latching onto the Inspector’s leather coat. The kiss was short but had effectively communicated what Lindsay the Not-So-Brave wasn’t able to.
“Come inside. We’ll talk about this “I have feelings for you” confession in the morning.” Cindy murmured between yawns. She grabbed Lindsay’s hand and gently tugged the older woman inside.
062. Appear
“It would appear,” Claire said in her I-Know-Everything-That-Happens-In-My-Flock voice, “That someone had an eventful night.” She bit her lip in concentration as she reached into the body of a middle-aged man, searching for… whatever it was she was looking for.
Lindsay slumped lower in the chair, face in her hands. “Mm.”
“That confirms it,” Jill said, her back to the victim on Claire’s table. She added some more Vix to her upper lip in her never ending battle of nausea. She threw a glance at Cindy and the red-head crossed her arms, relocating herself to a better position. A position that allowed Jill to look at her if the DDA didn’t mind seeing the dead body with a split open chest cavity. Cindy was safe from the lawyer’s scrutiny. For now.
“Oh-ho-ho. Now that,” Jill pointed her thumb backwards over her shoulder, “Really confirms it. Let me guess: Lindsay showed up at your place and confessed her love for our favorite reporter? And, y’know it goes without saying that she’s hungove-….” Jill trailed off.
“Love?” Cindy asked, wide-eyed. She whipped her head around to Lindsay.
Lindsay’s eyes were just as wide, if not wider than Cindy’s. Claire looked up between the two women, ironically (with a touch of morbidity) a heart in her hands.
“Hell,” came Lindsay’s muffled voice from behind her hands. She rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Hell! Aw Lindsay, you didn’t tell her?” Jill asked, regretting dropping the L-bomb. It wasn’t even her bomb to drop. ‘Way to go, Bernhardt. Way to go.’ She chastised herself.
“It would appear that way, Jill. Thanks.”
063. Whisper
Who knew a whisper could be so… Ridiculously hot? Lindsay never thought a slight brush of lips, purely accidental of course, against her ear lobe could send her back ramrod straight all the while giving her stomach a funny feeling. Lindsay gulped and tried to process whatever the hell Cindy had just whispered. Was it something about the case? Or… About the 49ers? Cheese maybe? Lindsay turned and watched Cindy walk away from her desk toward the front doors. Wait no, Lindsay stretched her neck and leaned over in her chair to get a better view of where Cindy was headed.
The reporter threw a glance over her shoulder and winked, effectively knocking the wind out of Lindsay’s lungs and physically knocking her out of her chair.
Lindsay held up a finger to Jacobi, silencing her partner before he could say anything. She crawled back into her chair and glanced at the bullpen doors.
“You are one sick, sad little puppy,” Jacobi muttered and resumed writing up his report.
Lindsay threw a glare at him and placed her gun into a desk drawer. A quick fix of her hair and made for the restroom, revenge on her mind.
064. Day
“God, what a day!” Lindsay huffed and slammed her Jeep’s door shut. She winced and slowly made her way to the porch, gently rubbing her shoulder. Tactics training with paintballs, Tom’s idea of fun, wasn’t fun. Not in the least. It was painful. Really, really painful.
In fact, Lindsay had remained free of being shot all day long until some of the men decided to start an all-out paintball war. Lindsay sighed and ran a hand through her hair and balked when she felt some dried up paint caught up inside.
Once she was inside with the door locked behind her, Lindsay took in the best site she’d seen in some time. There stood Cindy in the kitchen doorway with a beaming smile. Lindsay gave her a tired smile and ambled over to the red head. Cindy opened her arms wide and Lindsay folded herself into them, hunching over the smaller woman. Lindsay buried her head into Cindy’s hair, inhaling deeply.
“Bad day?” Cindy asked, gently massaging the back of Lindsay’s neck.
“Not anymore.”
065. Scream
The pounding at the door increased in both speed and strength. “Lindsay? Are you okay?” Came Jill’s voice.
A minute later, an incredibly frazzled and flushed Lindsay opened the door slightly. “Sorry, your hand must be aching.” She deadpanned. “Can I get you a hammer to break down my door instead?”
“I heard a scream,” Jill replied, making her way into Lindsay’s apartment.
“Must’ve been the TV,” Lindsay replied, crossing her arms. “Is there something I can-?”
“TV’s not on,” Jill observed.
“I’m watching a movie in my room,” Lindsay said and shifted from one foot to the other.
“Really? Can I join you?” Jill began toward the bedroom when Lindsay’s hurried and blocked her path.
“It uh, just ended.”
“With a scream?”
“Yup.”
Jill laughed and patted Lindsay on the shoulder before she peeked over the Inspector’s shoulder.
“Cindy?”
There was a brief pause. “Yes, Jill?”
“Try not to scream so loud. I heard you way out on the street.”
“Can we be done?” Lindsay moaned.
Jill’s laughter increased and she about faced. “Go and get ready. Both of you. We’re going out.”
066. Fail
“It’s official,” Lindsay pouted. She slumped into the couch, almost disappearing in its deep cushions. “I fail at all things in the culinary department. No, I just fail at domesticity as a whole. If I could sum my life at home up in one word, do you know what it’d be?” She didn’t wait for or give time for an answer. “Fail.” She nodded to herself.
“You don’t fail, Linds,” Cindy reassured the older woman with a pat on the knee. She mentally patted herself on the back for not letting her amused smirk show.
“Don’t think I don’t know you’re not smirking at me,” Lindsay grumped, casting a small glare at Cindy.
“I’m not!” Cindy turned her body fully toward Lindsay and pointed to her face, smirk-free.
“You don’t have to smirk to smirk.”
Cindy raised a confused eyebrow. “I think you kind of do have-.”
“No. Not outwardly. I’m a cop, Thomas. I know when people are inwardly smirking thinking they’ve gotten away with something. Or if they think they’ve won.”
“What have I gotten away with or won?”
“You’ve gotten away with not having to eat my casserole.”
“Is that what that was?” Cindy bit her lip, trying to keep in her giggle.
“Oh real funny. Yuk it up, clown.” Lindsay murmured, gently elbowing the red-head.
Cindy coughed and after a moment composed herself. She looked back up to Lindsay and with blatant disregard to personal space, she smothered Lindsay with her entire body. “I’m sorry, Linds. It’s not funny that you can’t cook.”
“It’s not!” Lindsay agreed, crossing her arms. She huffed. Twice.
“Want me to cook something?”
“Don’t do me any favors,” Lindsay mumbled, looking away.
“I wasn’t,” Cindy said with a bright smile, “I was just going to make something for myself and offer you the leftovers.” She patted Lindsay’s head and headed toward the kitchen.
Lindsay grumbled to herself, not amused. She glanced at the doorway when Cindy poked her head through. “C’mon, Inspector. Give me a hand in here and I’ll make your favorite.”
Lindsay grinned and followed Cindy in.
067. Confused
Lindsay Boxer was confused. Lindsay Boxer rarely was confused. She had gone through most of her life with relative ease and understanding about the world. Sure her job as a homicide inspector sort of took away the innocence of the world, but that didn’t make her ignore reality or get side-tracked with anything else in life. Lindsay Boxer was in control of her life and for the most part, always had been. She had a routine of sorts going in her life with the few people she had let in just close enough to know her, yet not too close to hurt her.
And it was in this thinking of always understanding and always having the upper hand on surprises and the unknown that Lindsay Boxer found herself confused.
Confused because Cindy Thomas had entered the picture with an adorable smile, ridiculous amounts of optimism and humor and seemingly with little to no effort was she able to turn Lindsay Boxer’s life upside and confuse the absolute hell out of her.
But, Lindsay Boxer figured, as she spied a crop of red hear ducking the police tape, she’d much rather attempt to figure out this welcomed confusion and maybe, just maybe, loosen the reins of understanding and control.
With a well crooked eyebrow, the red head sighed and ducked back under the police tape where she belonged.
Sure Lindsay would loosen the reins, but she wouldn’t let go.
068. Smile
“Someone’s grumpy,” came an all too cheery voice as it approached Lindsay’s desk. Lindsay huffed and crossed her arms, looking into Cindy’s too-perky-for-8-a.m. face.
“Something I can help you with, Ms. Thomas?” Lindsay grumbled. After an all-night stakeout and mounds of paperwork that had effectively kept Lindsay from her bed and shower for the past thirty-four hours, Lindsay figured that anyone with any degree of happiness (or cleanliness, for that matter) should be shot.
“Ooo, formalities. The Inspector must be serious,” Cindy said in a somber yet cheeky tone of voice.
Lindsay only rolled her eyes and slouched further into her seat. Her trigger finger twitched.
“There is something you can do for me though,” Cindy spoke up, all humor and mockery gone from her voice.
“That is?”
“Smile,” Cindy simply stated and held up a brown bag of breakfast goodies and coffee - extra caramel -toward Lindsay.
Lindsay melted at the sight and she smiled. She stood and in three easy strides, walked around her desk and enveloped Cindy in her arms.
“Saint Thomas. I love you.”
Cindy grinned, “I know.”
069. Come
“Come on.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What kind of dare-devil are you?”
“The kind that likes to keep her feet on the ground,” Cindy replied dryly, “Y’know. Where they belong.”
“Not even for me?” Jill asked, slipping her necklace under her shirt.
“Especially not for you,” Cindy said and warily glanced at the too tall for comfort amusement park ride. “Do you know how many accidents there are on these sling-shot things that end in deaths each year?”
“How many?” Lindsay asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure there’s a significant enough amount to keep me right here.”
The blonde and brunette smirked at each other. “C’mon, Thomas,” Lindsay drawled, stepping close to Cindy.
“No way.”
“Please?”
Cindy shook her head. Lindsay dropped an eyebrow and jutted out her bottom lip. Cindy pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel the puppy-dog pout burning through her eyelids.
“Oh, Lindsay Boxer,” Cindy said and handed her purse to Claire for safe-keeping, “I hate you.”
“Love you too, darlin’,” Lindsay replied and ushered Cindy toward the 170-foot tall thrill ride.
070. Alone
“Lindsay, open up,” Cindy called through the front door. She had been lucky enough to catch the lobby door as a tenant was exiting. The tricky part now was getting the Inspector to actually open her door. So far the only thing she had managed to accomplish was to almost drop the takeout she brought over and catch a glare from a neighbor with curlers in her hair.
“Cindy, I’m really not in the mood to talk.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re Lindsay Boxer. You don’t talk,” Cindy returned. “Can you please open up? I’m sure your neighbors are getting tired of my knocking.”
Cindy held her hand up to pound on the door again when she heard a lock click and the door opened, revealing a pale, tired and utterly beaten ghost-of-Lindsay leaning against the door.
Cindy offered a small smile. “Thank you.” She moved past Lindsay and headed toward the living room.
“Cindy, could you not-“
“No,” Cindy interrupted and set the cold food down. “I can’t not. Linds, I lost my dad too. I know what you’re going through. And you know what?” She stepped closer to Lindsay, taking in the dark circles under her eyes.
“What?” Lindsay rasped.
“You’re not alone.”
Cindy’s heart clenched and she felt a sense of déjà vu when Lindsay gave her the same look at having heard Tom’s marriage vows. Lindsay bit her bottom lip and in one easy movement, folded herself into Cindy’s arms. Not another word was said and in that moment, Lindsay Boxer for the first time in her life, didn’t feel so alone.
071. Fast
Lindsay was fast. But he was faster. In the split second it took Lindsay to realize what was going on, three quick cracks in succession disrupted the relative silence of the warehouse. She felt the wind get knocked out of her as she crumpled to the ground, coughing and light-headed. Her pistol clattered to the floor and her eyes watered at the sheer amount of pain the erupted from her torso. The fire seemed to rip from her lungs and spread outward to every last inch of her body. God, she was going to die. She could feel her wounded neck bleeding.
A figure ambled over where she lay in a growing puddle of blood. He smirked as he crouched down next to her. Lindsay glared at him even as a tear rolled out of her eye and disappeared into her hairline. She coughed and blood poured from her mouth. His grin grew even wider and he leaned in close, only inches away from her face.
“I’d hate to blow that beautiful face to pieces,” he said and held the gun between her eyes, “But it’s what you deserve, Inspect-”
A single shot interrupted him and he slumped over, lifeless onto Lindsay. She cried out and loosened her hand free, tossing her secondary pistol aside. Willing what little strength she had left into her arm, Lindsay reached into her pocket, flipped her phone open and pressed the “Call” button twice, hoping whomever she last spoke to would be her saving grace.
“Hey Linds, what’s up?” Came Cindy’s cheerful voice.
Lindsay tried to speak but nothing but a gurgle came forth. She dropped the phone to the floor by her ear, unable to grasp it any longer.
“Lindsay?”
“Cin…” she managed before coughing up more blood.
“Lindsay! Oh Jesus. Hold on. Listen I’m calling 911 right now. We’ll get you help, just stay with me, Lindsay!” Cindy spoke into the phone.
Too late, Lindsay thought. She was tired and cold. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. She tried to make out the now muffled and frantic voice of Cindy on the cell phone next to hear but she felt exhaustion winning over.
072. Slow
Slow. Cindy was too slow and she knew it. She threw her car in park, not even thinking about shutting off the engine and she ran at break-neck speed toward the now taped-off crime scene. Reporters and interested locals stood on one side of the plastic barrier as a few uniforms held them at bay. She found a break in the barrier and passed it until she was grabbed by an officer.
“Hey miss! Behind the line!”
“No!” Cindy struggled against his hold, “Lindsay! I’m here for Lindsay Boxer!”
The officer didn’t loosen his grip and Cindy tried her best to break free, eyes wild and full of unshed tears.
“Hank, let her through!” Came the voice of Officer Cho. Cindy was off before Hank could ask for an explanation. She barreled through the officers and crew, eyes searching everywhere for Lindsay.
“Thomas,” a voice spoke behind her.
She whirled around and came face to face with Jacobi. “Warren! Oh god, where is she? Is she going to make it?”
He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know, kid. They just took her by helicopter to the hospital.”
“I have to see her. Where are they taking her? What happened?”
Jacobi put his hands on her shaking shoulders and gently pulled her along with him at a quick and steady pace to his vehicle. “Slow down, Red. I’ll drive us there and explain what happened.”
073. Return
“Ma’am, if you don’t return to the waiting room I’ll have security escort you out. You’ll know about your… sister’s satus as soon as I know,” the nurse at the desk explained, clearly unbelieving about blood-ties and altogether fed up with the incessant badgering from Cindy.
An arm wrapped around her shoulder, “Sorry. I’ll keep an eye on her,” Jill spoke to the nurse, leading Cindy back to the ER where a gathering of Lindsay’s closest friends were.
Cindy slumped into a spot between Jill and Claire and the two older women immediately enveloped her in comforting one-armed embraces.
“Sweetie, you need to calm down. I know for a fact the best surgeons are in there with Lindsay now,” Claire spoke with a calming voice. “She’s a fighter and she’ll pull through.”
Cindy only nodded, half-listening.
Jill kissed Cindy on the temple, “C’mon. You know Lindsay will fight. She knows we’d all kick her ass if she didn’t fight. Hell, I’d kick her ass for turning you into a wreck.”
Cindy sniffed and let out a small smile. They had all been waiting for three hours since Lindsay was airlifted into the hospital with two gunshot wounds to her chest and another gunshot wound nicking her throat. She had massive blood loss and from what they could surmise by the Code Blue sign flashing above the operating room doors down the hall, she had been brought back to life not once, but twice. Lindsay Boxer really was a fighter.
074. Fire
Fire was all Lindsay felt as she fought through the hazy fog into consciousness. Her chest was on fire. Her neck was on fire. Her body was on fire. Her eyes drifted open and she took in her surroundings, fighting away the blurred dizziness. To her right were a few quiet beeping and humming machines, along with an ever-present hiss of oxygen as it passed from the valve on the wall to the mask over her mouth. The steady beeping from the heat-monitor almost lulled her back to sleep but the sight of a fiery crop of hair caught Lindsay’s attention.
There, bent into a shape a pretzel would be jealous of was Cindy Thomas. Head crooked at an extremely painful to look-at angle, resting on her bed. Lindsay quietly observed the reporter and noticed that the young woman looked like hell, to put it bluntly. Lindsay figured she didn’t look any easier on the eyes either. She felt a slight squeeze on her left hand and noticed for the first time Cindy’s pale hand covering her own.
A warmth spread through Lindsay, and it was more comfortable than fire.
075. Positive
“Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” Cindy asked for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. Lindsay sighed and picked up a pen, writing a single word and underlining it. Twice. Positive.
At Cindy’s hesitance, Lindsay underlined the word. Twice more.
“Okay,” Cindy nodded as she looked around the bedroom to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Lindsay’s cell phone was in reach. A glass of water was filled and resting on the bedside table. Remote control was laying next to Lindsay on her bed. “Okay,” she repeated. “I’ll be back soon.”
Lindsay smirked and waved Cindy away.
If it was this much trouble getting Cindy to go outside for some fresh air, Lindsay thought as she settled into her bed, she wondered at how she was going to get the reporter to go back to work without alerting the National Guard.