What's It Like In New York City? Part 1: I'm A Thousand Miles Away
Fandom: Women’s Murder Club
Title: What’s It Like In New York City
Part 1: I’m A Thousand Miles Away
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy, slight Cindy/OC
Rating: PG - M (swearing)
Summary: AU dealing with the breakdown of a relationship and all that entails from opposite sides of the country. Cindy’s not trying to criticise Lindsay lord knows she’s tried and failed a million times over, the best she’s come up with is afraid… most of the time that’s enough of an insult to the normally fearless police inspector.
A/N: Title taken from Plain White Tee’s ‘Hey There Delilah’s
A/N 2: angst bunnies might be slightly happier with this piece, sorry fluff-babies but the next one (hopefully) is for you, any/all mistakes are mine, also two parts just because it’s way too long already!
New York
It’s been three months of somehow stubbing her toes, awkwardly side stepping and constantly tripping over the Lindsay box, but Cindy still won’t touch it more than just to move it to another part of the room, one that at first seems as though it was be tucked away in an unused corner, no longer underfoot, just sit to gather dust but within a week Cindy will have stubbed her toe, tripped or sidestepped it carefully yet again. Logically the reporter knows the ultimate solution would be to throw it out but she can’t bring herself to do it, she can’t bring herself to even look in it, not even five months after the break up, not even now that she’s living in a different city and state, some 2,500 miles away Cindy can’t let go of something that in all honesty wasn’t even that much of a relationship as a secret 3 month stint as friends with benefits. At least that’s what she tells herself whenever something reminds her of Lindsay, so she ends up telling herself that quite often. She knows exactly what’s in it, photos, gifts, cards, notes, things that don’t mean much of anything to anyone but her, ‘not even the other woman in the photos’ she tells herself, harsh yes but Cindy’s not trying to criticise Lindsay, she’s tried and failed a million times over, the best she’s come up with is afraid… most of the time that’s enough of an insult to the normally fearless police inspector, the same woman who goes toe-to-toe with serial killers, psychos, rapist - the general scum of the underworld without even a second thought but give her a personal situation, an area where ‘feelings’ come in and the woman is absolutely clueless, she freezes like dry ice. Cindy kind of pity’s her for that but knows Lindsay would hate to know it and the truth is she’s more pitiful than Lindsay because she knows all the reasons not to love Lindsay but she does anyway, she can’t control it, sometimes she wishes she could just erase that part of her memory and make it so she’s only missing friends from back in San Francisco and in some ways she is because she might miss Lindsay but it’s just too complicated to label and she doesn’t miss the heartache that came with the complicated unlabelled thing, she deserves better than heartache and ignores the fact that moments with just her and just Lindsay were anything but heartbreaking except to recall them as the past. In the end (or a new beginning Cindy’s not sure, she knows what it’s meant to be… a fresh start… but New York just feels like running away) it all comes back to the box, she can’t throw it out and no matter what the past it holds just won’t let her go. Cindy doesn’t know if she truly wants to be free of it and that scares her the most because in the back of her mind she knows that she will always love Lindsay but she tells herself to let it go, Lindsay will never love her back.
San Francisco
Lindsay likes her personal space, she likes order and control and boundaries and distance, seven states lines are a lot of boundaries and 2,583 miles is a lot of distance but it’s only now that Lindsay realises that distance, personal space, solitude, silence, control, rules and order aren’t all she once thought they were cracked up to be. It’s been four months since Cindy moved, three since Lindsay got drunk and woke up in bed with some unknown woman who looked enough like Cindy to get her hung over hopes up then the haze lifted and she realised it was not Cindy and it wasn’t going to be, not with her in San Francisco clutching onto her pride and Cindy in New York building herself a new life with new people. Lindsay has hated every moment of the five miserable months since she & Cindy broke up, they live in different cities, separate states, opposite sides of the country, they live exactly 2,583 straight line miles away apart each other (2,906 if you were driving), Lindsay knows, she looked it up, (technology is a wonderful thing in this day and age Google is a god, she knows Cindy’s address but will never admit to using Google maps to find it and see it because that would be weird and if not that then it wouldn’t be something a simple friend would do so Lindsay didn’t do it…. it still somehow ends up recorded in her computer’s history though, a fact Jacobi is more than willing to remind her of) at the time it seemed like vital information but it doesn’t matter because it’s still not enough time or space or distance to erase Cindy from her memory, Lindsay’s not sure if there ever will be. Lindsay is somewhat surprised to find that she knows it’s been exactly 97 days since she sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair in terminal 14A of the San Francisco airport and watched from behind a four day old newspaper as Cindy boarded flight TM739 to JFK airport New York City, New York. No one knew she was there, not Jill or Claire and certainly not Cindy sometimes she didn’t even admit to herself she had sat there for twenty minutes after Cindy had disappeared out of view reading an article that’s by-line read Cindy Thomas. She remembered that case, solved thanks to their little club but it was only then she realised she never really read what Cindy wrote, she skimmed but never read, she already knew the facts so what was the point? Sitting in the airport Lindsay cried because Cindy made them sound so beautiful even in the middle of something gruesome and she realised she’d pushed away the one person who could have loved her, who did love her because of fear. Lindsay then makes it her mission (she knows herself well enough to know she never does well without a mission to keep her occupied) to collect every article Cindy ever wrote, she does, from some little puff piece on a cat fashion show before her break into crime reporting to her ‘Goodbye San Francisco’ piece.
New York
Cindy is finally settling into a routine with her new life in New York, she’s getting a couple of good contacts who come through with information that’s nearly always mostly correct, it’s not the same as back in San Francisco but that’s because she’s starting at the bottom and working her way up, most of her stories are puff pieces, she’s hasn’t been there long enough for the crime section but she’s still working just as hard as she did in San Francisco, maybe even harder since she wants to prove herself, she has some friends at the office which is a little surprising for her considering she never really went out with the other reporters in San Francisco, but she doesn’t have a club here, there’s no Jill or Claire and there’s no Lindsay either, one weekend Cindy tried looking, it was her neighbour, Shannon’s fault, Shannon was nice enough, funny too, she was a little like Claire, always looking out for her, always trying to get her to go out more and have a good time, Shannon was rapidly becoming a close friend to Cindy, she must have thought so too because a month or so ago she had decided that it was time enough for Cindy to have been moping over her ‘ex-whatever’ to get back in the game, Cindy tried to point out she’d never had a ‘whatever’ (Lindsay had not been her girlfriend because to have had her and lost her would have hurt more than to have never had her at all) but Shannon hadn’t listened, the night hadn’t gone that well and Cindy had left the club angry with herself for thinking of Lindsay the entire time.
In New York she has a Shannon, she never had one before so that’s something, New York doesn’t have a Susie’s but it has a bar called Lemon Drops and instead of club meetings she has drinks with colleagues, Joanne is a dating columnist at the paper so it’s no surprise she often gets multiple numbers on the Thursday nights they go out together, she reminds Cindy a little of Jill, she’s sharp and witty and speaks her mind. She always tries to force Cindy to move on from her ‘ex-whatever’, Cindy is sure Joanne and Shannon are ganging up on her but when she voices this opinion she sounds crazy to herself as well as them, despite the gleam she sees in their eyes.
There’s a bartender too, Lucy, who seems to work the Thursday shift but is there most of the time Cindy ends up there, she’s nice enough, good looking and clearly interested in her but Cindy just doesn’t know if she feels the same, Lucy’s beautiful, Cindy’s height, a from Boston blonde, she makes Cindy laugh and makes a martini even better but Cindy just can’t stop herself thinking of a smart, stunning, ‘legs-up-to-her-eyeballs’ type of tall, originally from Texas brunette detective she left in San Francisco.
San Francisco
The club is still going strong, the meetings at Susie’s leave a seat vacant and things don’t feel the same which is ridiculous Lindsay tells herself because they had an almost perfect little ‘non-club’ before Cindy came along, why shouldn’t they have the same after… then again she knows the answer. Perfectly good isn’t perfect, Cindy was or at least with Cindy they were. But Cindy still listens to evidence and offers her opinions, her contacts in New York aren’t much help to them in San Francisco but her contacts still in town are always happy to help friends of Cindy, it seems her hold on them extends state lines and they all have nothing but good things to say about the redheaded reporter when she thinks about it so does everyone else who know her, Lindsay’s not surprised when she comes to this realisation though everybody loves Cindy, she does too... she shakes her head and rearranges her words, she can’t think of Cindy, (not the Cindy who lives in New York City) like that. Anyway Cindy’s nice to everyone, why shouldn’t they care about her even if she’s not within city limits? And yes Lindsay misses Cindy but friends are allowed to miss each other, Lindsay’s not sure she’s allowed that privilege, but even if she was friends don’t miss the scent of their friends on their sheets and they don’t miss the feel of their lips or the way their friend moaned their name, or the lazy smiles they’d give upon waking up together and Lindsay’s not allowed to miss those things about Cindy either, not since her screw up 168 days ago when Cindy left her apartment and didn’t come back and Lindsay alternated between crying her heart out and drinking herself to sleep. Lindsay has slowly been hating herself a bit more ever since.
The club’s still going strong, the meetings at Susie’s are different, quieter and always with a missing piece but Cindy calls and tells the girls what she thinks but it’s always Claire or Jill’s mobiles that ring when she does - never Lindsay’s. One meeting Jill still hasn’t arrived and Claire’s just left the table to go to the bathroom when her phone rings, she looks at Lindsay ‘Can you answer that?’ she asks and Lindsay doesn’t even think of it ‘Claire Washburn’s phone’
Silence.
“Hello?”
“Lindsay?”
“Cindy?”
“Tell Claire i’ll call her later.”
“Cindy wait...” Lindsay begins but all she gets is a dial tone. Claire comes back and Lindsay leaves without much of a goodbye, a half-hearted lie, something about Martha, a pathetic excuse for sure. Claire calls Jill and says it was just going to be the two of them, Jill had some paperwork to do and Claire didn’t mind going home to her family, they could meet next week, on a whim Claire checked her call log and found the reason Lindsay left in such a hurry.
Last received call: ‘Cindy Thomas’.
New York
Cindy didn’t think that just hearing Lindsay’s voice could throw her in such a tailspin but it can and does. Cindy presses ‘cancel call’ button five times before dropping the phone down to the couch.
“Stupid!” she berates herself. “Stupid, so goddamn stupid!”
She shouldn’t have hung up like that, she should have said more than five words, she should have behaved like an adult, not the child Lindsay so often saw her as… she shouldn’t care what Lindsay thought. She shouldn’t be wondering what came after ‘Cindy wait…’ but she didn’t and now she won’t know, it was probably something meaningless, ‘Claire’s just here’ or something she’s heard a million times before ‘I’m sorry’ or something to smash the pieces of her heart even further ‘we don’t need you anymore’ or something worse ‘I’ve found someone else, I’ve moved on’ but that last one would mean that there was something to move on from in the first place and there damn well wasn’t because one thing Cindy had learnt about Lindsay from just being nothing more than a member of the ‘not-a-club’ was that when Lindsay cared about something she didn’t give it up without a damn well messy, bloody fight and to hell with what that meant in consequence for her so if they had something worth more than a couple of quick fucks and a make believe world of rainbows and happily-ever-afters than Lindsay hadn’t cared for it one bit and Lindsay hadn’t cared for her either.
San Francisco
Lindsay gets home to find Martha fine as she knew she would be, Martha raises her head to greet her but does nothing more, Lindsay believes the dog is punishing her for letting Cindy go but then again she might just be projecting. Straight to the liquor cabinet, if there’s one thing this girl from Texas can do, apart from push away the best things in her life and put herself in miserable situations it’s drink so she does. Martha watches from the sidelines, annoyed with her owner, then again Lindsay could just be projecting, her fourth glass helps her brain stop her thinking about Cindy for too long or too hard about why it was she fucked up the best thing she had in her personal life, ruined the best thing she had going professionally by pushing one club member to the other side of the country and making herself absolutely miserable in the process. She doesn’t remember why exactly, something stupid about other people thinking for themselves, a thought that makes Lindsay snort into her seventh glass of straight whiskey. And even if it was more complex than that well fuck it, it was still a dumb assed reason to break Cindy’s heart anyway.
Then she thinks to herself she’s a narcosis because she’s giving herself way too much credit but so did Cindy, she’s only one woman, she’s not superwoman either, she’s human and she makes mistakes… big ones, but Cindy knew that first hand by now.
New York
Cindy had always told herself Lindsay didn’t care but always thought it was just something she needed to say to get over it not that it was all that close to the truth but just then she had thought herself into a corner and the blow that came with the realisation that not only did Lindsay not care about her or the ‘whatever’ it was they had but also Cindy wasn’t over Lindsay no matter what she said or. It had been a hard night and it wasn’t even 9. Trying to reach the top shelf in her kitchen only made her miss someone taller, not Lindsay, she was adamant about that, not Lindsay just someone a bit taller than herself, still Cindy managed at get what she wanted. Tequila, a full bottle, it had been a shitty enough week before the phone call and realisation so Cindy rationalised away any worries about work in the morning and drank.
A couple of hours later after putting her daughter Rayleigh to bed Shannon came over to check on her friend, she knew it had been a tough week for the redhead reporter and Shannon wanted to make sure everything was ok.
“Cin?” Shannon called through the door as she knocked. “Cindy are you home?”
Cindy heard her but she didn’t answer, instead she took another swig from the tequila bottle.
“Cindy answer me if you’re home.” Shannon demanded.
Cindy’s cell phone started ringing and buzzing across the coffee table.
“Look Senior Tequila Shan’s calling.” Cindy giggled softly, then she waved at the door. “Hi Shan.”
Her phone stopped ringing and she could hear Shannon curse.
“God damn it Cindy what the hell is going on with you.” Shannon muttered to herself, Shannon sighed and then it seemed like she was walk away.
“Bye Shan.” Cindy whispered and turned back to the Lindsay box.
“Lie, lie, lie.” She said throwing each photo into the air, not caring where they landed, then Cindy’s front door opened and Shannon appeared.
“Cindy!” she exclaimed shocked at finding the redheaded reporter sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, the nearer-to-empty-than-anything-else bottle of tequila in one hand.
“Hola Shannon.” Cindy managed hoping her humour would be well received, Shannon’s face darkened. Clearly not.
“God damn it Cindy what the hell is going on with you?” Shannon asked.
“How much time do have?” Cindy asked with a drunken smile. Shannon didn’t answer just wrenched the tequila from her friend and tried to pull her too her feet.
“You’re mad at me.” Cindy said.
“You think?” Shannon asked still struggling to get Cindy up, Shannon was strong but she didn’t weight much more than Cindy despite have a couple of inches on her and Cindy wasn’t up to helping.
“Everyone’s mad at me.” Cindy said sadly.
“Oh really? What for? You play ‘let’s-see-how-much-I-hate-my-liver’ often?” Shannon asked.
“No, just for you my Shannon senorita.” Cindy smiled then she frowned. “The others are mad for me leaving or for messing the balance up or for being too ‘emotionally invested’ or for being a tease.”
“What are you talking about?” Shannon asked finally getting Cindy onto the bed.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Cindy said.
“What? I’m not in the club so I can’t play?” Shannon joked.
“It’s not a club.” Cindy said.
“Oh my God you have a club?” Shannon asked, half joking.
“No it’s not-a-club, we just solve crimes.”
“Back in San Fran right?” Shannon asked having already taken Cindy’s boots off and was working on her jacket and shirt.
“Oooh Shan didn’t know you swung bat for my team.” Cindy giggled, Shannon smiled.
“I don’t but we need to get you into bed.” She said.
“And you say you don’t want me, please, you totally do, don’t blame you but I’ve heard more subtle lines than that before.” Cindy grinned, Shannon ignored her and helped Cindy into an oversized 49ers jersey.
“She never loved me Shan.” Cindy said tears falling. “Not even a little bit.”
“Everything will be better in the morning.” Shannon said knowing that most likely wasn’t true. Cindy however believed her and nodded.
“In the morning.” She repeated closing her eyes.
Shannon shut the light off and went to leave her friend’s apartment when she caught sight of the coffee table, an open cardboard box next to it, curiosity always got the best of the blonde so she crept over, casting a look to Cindy’s bedroom but Cindy wasn’t up to coming and scolding her for snooping, not tonight in any case, photos, notes, cards and other odd, at least to Shannon, things were spread out all over the coffee table. Most of the photos were Cindy and a pretty looking brunette, the one Shannon guessed who, according to Cindy at least, never loved her, looking at the photos though Shannon would swear Cindy was wrong.
San Francisco
“So everything ok with Martha?” Jill asked the next time she saw Lindsay.
“What?” Lindsay asked.
“You told Claire something was wrong with Martha, what happened?” Jill asked.
“Oh, nothing she’s fine, just fine.” Lindsay said and Jill smiled, practically screaming ‘I know, next time come up with something better’, Lindsay desperately wanted to escape her gaze.
“That’s good.” Jill nodded.
“Yeah it is.” Lindsay agreed. “I was just on my way to see Claire so ah…”
Lindsay trailed off, since they lost Cindy the not-a-club seemed to have lost its will, they still did their best to solve the crimes that came their way but mostly they were each involved in their own area until Thursday meetings which seemed to be getting shorter and shorter, but it couldn’t have been that because Jill and Claire would have noticed, would have said something or done something right? So no it was just Lindsay paying less and less attention, it had to be because otherwise Lindsay would have to admit that she didn’t care about anything with Cindy and that her biggest mistake was made exactly 172 days ago, she’d rather admit she was losing her touch but then she refused because if she gave that up, her job, the one thing she was good at, the thing she kept in order to give away Cindy, if she slipped even the slightest then it was all for nothing, no that couldn’t happen, she couldn’t just be as good as she was before Cindy flew herself off to New York, she had to be better because if she wasn’t then what did she have?
3 weeks later and there was still nothing new on the case, it was like he’d just stopped, decided ‘No you know what, I’ve had my fun, I don’t want to rape and strangle women and then carve my marks into their flesh’ but everything inside her told her that couldn’t be true, no one that sick, no one that evil could just stop, monsters don’t stop they can’t. But if he hadn’t stopped then what had he done?
Claire was hopeful he was dead but Lindsay refused that theory, she’d never been much of an optimist Claire mused, except for those three months... Jill and Claire exchanged a glance as Lindsay demanded that they had missed something and they all needed to work harder, they were going to be worked into the ground, Lindsay forever leading the way if they didn’t do something, both Jill and Claire were thinking the same thing and after Lindsay stormed out of the morgue in a foul mood they knew they paid for later they started to plan.
It was either move Lindsay on or get them back together, with Cindy in New York that last one didn’t seem likely but the first one didn’t wasn’t a pleasant idea for either of them and they knew Lindsay would resist anything they tried to do but they had to do something.
Tom called down to the bullpen right around quitting time.
“Boxer.” Lindsay’s head snaps up and over to him hoping maybe something had come up, Jill had found something in the first trial, the one they lost, Helen Rosemount, or Claire, hoping Claire had come up with something, for a horrible second she hoped for another body but that was just because she’d started to hope Cindy had dug something up, even if she had from all the way in New York the city’s name was spat with disgust in her mind, it wouldn’t be much help but it was none of those.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re taking your vacation time next week?” Tom asked seemingly half annoyed. “You can of course, you deserve to take more but I do need some notice.”
“What are you talking about?” Lindsay asked up from her desk and over to his office.
“Jill just called me and told me everything was booked, the last thing she and Claire had to do was get their days off, you too.” Tom said.
“Tom I’m not going on vacation.” Lindsay said.
“Take it up with Bernhardt, that woman scares me, don’t get me wrong Linds you’re a force to be reckoned with but so is Claire, hell even that redhead reporter hanging around you scares me sometimes.” Tom said. “Come to think of it I haven’t seen her around in a while, what’s going on?”
“It’s none of your damn business Tom.” Lindsay snapped, the dark storm clouds had gathered across her face as soon as Tom had mention Cindy, not by name no but it was enough.
“Fine Boxer but next time you take vacation tell me at least a week before.” Tom said. Lindsay turned on her heel and stalked her way to the morgue, everyone knew to stay out of her way.
New York
sThe worst hangover ever involves Cindy throwing up twice then stumbling out into the what-the-fuck-when-did-my-apartment-become-the-sun’s-resident-headquaters living room and finding the remains of a life she tried to leave behind, groaning Cindy wonders over to her kitchen and starts the coffee machine. The answering machine is linking but she doesn’t remember the phone ringing, then again she doesn’t remember much of anything last night.
“Hi this is Cindy Thomas, I’m not here right now or I’m screening, leave a message after the beep.”
3 new messages.
Message 1 - this morning 12:25am, caller out of state.
“Cindy i…” Lindsay, Lindsay on her answering machine, Lindsay actually dialled her number and waited to speak to her, Lindsay sighs. “Probably that second one, you’re not the wrong to do it.”
Lindsay hangs up and Cindy throws up in the sink, she doesn’t know if it’s just the hangover or the fact that Lindsay called her sounding sad and broken and mostly drunk or maybe it’s a combination of the two.
To call this person back press 1, to call a different number press 2, to delete this message press 3, to save this message press 4, to play this message again press 5.
Cindy presses 5.
“Cindy I… Probably that second, you’re not wrong to do it.”
To call this person back press 1, to call a different number press 2, to delete this message press 3, to save this message press 4, to play this message again press 5.
Cindy presses 4.
Message 2 - this morning, 8:18, caller 55-831.
“Hey Cin, I know you’ve gotta be feeling pretty shit by the time you hear this, sorry if I’m taking too loud hun but to be honest you deserve it. don’t you scare me like that again, I don’t mind you getting yourself shitfaced, you’re an adult that’s fine but honestly Cinds, anyway I called you in sick and left you some panadol on the counter, feel better.” Shannon, Cindy had learnt the difference between true anger from the normally easy going blonde, usually this was when it was directed at her ex, Rayleigh’s father, this was just Shannon being concerned.
To call this person back press 1, to call a different number press 2, to delete this message press 3, to save this message press 4, to play this message again press 5.
Cindy presses 3 but reminds herself to thank Shannon and apologise to her and buy her flowers or something, she sees the packet of panadol and opens it, taking two with water as the machine plays the next message.
Message 3 - this morning, 9:47 caller out of state.
“Cindy honey it’s Claire, hope you’ve got some time off this week, if not then call in sick, Lindsay, Jill and I are coming to the Big Apple to see our favourite little crime reporter, see you soon, we get into JFK at 11 on Saturday, hope you know a good place for lunch.”
To call this person back press 1, to call a different number press 2, to delete this message press 3, to save this message press 4, to play this message again press 5.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Cindy exclaimed, her own voice too loud for her poor hangover head as she fumbled for the phone, knocking it from the cradle to the floor, she bent to get it and felt the nausea come on fast and strong and instead of straightening up she sat down to the ground and leant against the back of the counter to defy gravity. Cindy pressed one three times.
‘Request unknown, please try again.’
Calming herself, at least enough to undo 111 and dial the 1 command, this time having it stick and hearing the phone ring.
“Dr Claire Washburn medical examiner’s phone, please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Beep.
Cindy hung up.
What would you like to do now? To call a different number press 2, to delete this message press 3, to save this message press 4, to play this message again press 5.
Cindy presses 2.
Please enter number or select contact from phonebook.
Cindy scrolls down to Jill, Cell and presses call.
“Hi you’ve reached Jill Bernhardt, name, number, you know the drill.”
Beep.
Cindy hung up.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Cindy cursed throwing her phone across the room, it landed with a thud and Cindy closed her eyes. This week was going to be worse than she’d first thought.
“Fuck!”
San Francisco
Lindsay storms out of the morgue feeling less than satisfied, she was expecting a fight, she was ready for a fight, she needed a fight but Claire and Jill wouldn’t give it to her. They stood there as she ranted and raved and hit well below the belt, Claire winced and Jill set her jaw but they didn’t fire back despite their mountains of ammunition, instead they calmly told her they were going to New York and she was going with them, unless she had some reason she couldn’t bear to face Cindy so Lindsay leaves in a foul mood and goes to get herself drunk again.
Lindsay then goes home to Martha who Lindsay can’t help but feel isn’t as enthusiastic as she once was, maybe the dog is resenting for her getting rid of the sweet little redhead who’d feed her treats and take her for long walks when Lindsay was pulling three straight shifts to catch the latest killer she was after, Lindsay could be projecting because misses that redhead too. Jill calls and Lindsay doesn’t answer, out of spite maybe, it’s childish yes but Lindsay resists the urge to stick her tongue out at her answering machine when Jill tells her in her courtroom-shark/predator-lawyer ‘I’ve got this suspect on the ropes’ voice to pack her damn bags and smile about it. Lindsay does the first part but refuses to do the second, a small act of rebellion, a small act of futility.
Lindsay finds that Claire and Jill have thought of everything, for every excuse they have an answer, work - Tom had cleared it with his bosses, Inspector Boxer was officially off duty for seven days plus the weekend, Martha - is being taken care of by ‘Doggie Day Care & Boarding’, she gets desperate when she goes with her house plant but that died months ago, she neglects so many things.
So Lindsay resigns herself to going to New York and packs her bag accordingly. Clothes, shoes, toiletries, gun and badge, just the essentials really and she was ready when Claire came, cab waiting, Lindsay put her bag in the trunk and got in as they drove to pick up Jill.
Lindsay tried sulking but it didn’t really work the truth is that she was more fearful than angry; Cindy was the one who had the right to be angry, Lindsay wouldn’t blame her if she hated her but she prayed to every icon and deity she could think of that it wasn’t the case, to have Cindy so far away hurt, to be in the same room as her would hurt but to have her hate her, that would destroy whatever Lindsay had left inside of her, which wasn’t that much anymore, she was empty and hollow but her shell was still standing, if Cindy hated her than Lindsay knew she’d disappear completely.
She just wasn’t ready to see the mess she’d made because she knows it’s narcissistic but what if she broke Cindy apart? But Jill got in the cab and started talking about the boys and drinks and sights they’d do and drink and see and Lindsay had to nod along, alcohol sounded like a wonderful idea but she has to wait because they’re at the airport checking in.
“Do you have any weapons or explosives in your bag?” the woman at the check in asked. Lindsay nods and pulls her badge.
“I have my gun.” She admitted.
“Lindsay!” Jill exclaimed and Claire sighed.
“You couldn’t leave it at home?” she asked.
“I might need it.” Lindsay protested.
“For what?” Jill asked.
“You know how many killers are out there? The ones that got away or the ones that got out that would love to hurt us when we’re unaware? And besides who knows what sort of trouble Cindy has got herself in?” Lindsay asked. Jill and Claire shared a look.
They go to the terminal and wait for the plane, they get to their seats and stow their carry on luggage, from the minute the flight attendants start the OHS flight safety speech to the second the plane touches down only twenty minutes late in JFK Lindsay has been worrying and wondering and going over it again and again all the scenarios in her head. They go to get their luggage and Lindsay looks around and sees her.
“Cindy.” Jill and Claire turn to the redhead and go to her, Lindsay just stares.
“Hi Lindsay.” Cindy says politely and everything is different.