Fic: A Beautiful Day
Title: A Beautiful Day
Author: Demeter
Fandom: Women's Murder Club/Dollhouse
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
A/N: The last. thing. ever. you'll hear from me on that subject, lol. Set in the universe of my WMC/Dh crossover obviously, posted today to celebrate the return of Dollhouse :)
Summary: Before the happily ever after in Different Lines, there are some loose ends to be tied up.
A Beautiful Day
By Demeter
Lindsay pretends to be asleep, listening to the soft sounds of Cindy moving around in the bedroom, the padding of bare feet, dishes on a tray clinking together. Sunlight is warming her face. Idly, she listens to Cindy humming a tune slightly off-key and she can't stifle the smile any longer. It's going to be a beautiful day.
"I knew you were awake, letting me do all the work as usual," Cindy says in a mock chiding tone. She sets the tray aside on the nightstand, and then the mattress dips. When Lindsay opens her eyes, Cindy is straddling her, the contact even through layers of fabric now practically jolting her awake. "Happy Birthday, you lazy bum," Cindy whispers, leaning down to kiss her.
They make love slowly and languidly, enjoy learning each other's bodies anew while the rays of the morning sun tickle their skin.
"I love it when you do all the work," Lindsay admits, teasingly, her tone low and breathless. Cindy shakes her head at her, but there's no denying she loves it too. It means she has all the power, which is true anyway.
It's been two years.
"I love you." Not that it isn't obvious, but for Cindy, words are important. Lindsay has finally overcome her hesitation of naming what she feels. Together, they've overcome so much worse.
***
The sound of the doorbell seems so out of place that it doesn't register until the second time. And they haven't had breakfast yet. "You go," Lindsay decides. "I don't think I could stand."
Cindy's expression is a mixture of smug pride and annoyance. "What if we just pretend--"
"It could be important."
"Right." Cindy sighs and gets up from the bed, shrugging into her robe to answer the door.
Lindsay reaches for her clothes too, wondering who is going to disturb them on a Sunday morning, worry casting a shadow over her bright mood already. The past few months, they've done their best to gain a little distance from past and present tribulations of their jobs, trying to map out the near future. She really doesn't care for any detours now.
Cindy's voice sounds dejected when she asks, "You're sure this cannot wait?"
"I'm sorry. It can't."
At the sound of the other woman's voice, Lindsay freezes; now she knows for sure that this can't be good. No phone call in advance, no warning. Not that she minds seeing her again, in general, but Caroline showing up just like this sets off every alarm bell on her mind. It's not likely that she just came by for social reasons. They aren't that kind of friends.
***
"Make yourself at home," Cindy says with a hint of spite. "How about breakfast?"
"I won't stay long," Caroline says apologetically, her gaze meeting Lindsay's. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have no choice. Lindsay, I need your help."
What Lindsay really wants is to say, sorry, not today. Instead, she pours some coffee for all of them, then leans against the kitchen counter. "What do you need?"
Caroline lays a couple of folders onto the table. "You know about Alpha. He's still out there... and obviously now he's killing again."
"What does that have to do with us?" Cindy asks sharply. "It's not in the SFPD's jurisdiction."
"Technically, it is not," Caroline agrees, giving the younger woman a regretful look.
Lindsay grips her coffee mug tighter, trying hard not to slip into memories that have just barely retreated into the past. Once, Caroline was Cindy. Seeing the two of them together, she can hardly understand what happened and how deeply the Dollhouse people were able to mess with people's minds. She doesn't know a whole lot about Alpha, but what little information she has is enough to make her want to stay away, especially now. "I hear a 'but'," she says.
"Part of his ritual was cutting up people. He seems to have changed it, or maybe it was always part of his repertoire. There's been a woman found with her mouth sewn shut."
Cindy's face turns white so rapidly Lindsay is glad that she is already sitting down - for herself, it seems like a plunge into nothing, just falling. Women with their mouths sewn shut, brutalized by an entitled-feeling bastard, a psychopath who thought of himself as Prince Charming. Kiss-Me-Not.
"How can you know?"
"Because he sent us a video of him doing it. Lindsay, that's not all. There were pictures of the other women. It seems like Billy Harris wasn't Kiss-Me-Not after all."
"But we found--" Even as she's protesting, the doubts that had been nagging at her mind all the time rise up full force. All the clues in one place, but none of them had to do with fairy tales. She looks at Cindy who has buried her face in her hands, and it's so very obvious what the right thing to do would be.Four years since Billy Harris' death. This new-old case is in the hands of the FBI now and that's where it should be. Lindsay's priorities have changed for sure in those years.
"There's a new task force," Caroline explains. "The powers that be sent me to get you on board and not take no for an answer. It's been cleared with your boss already."
The feeling of being trapped growing stronger until it's almost impossible to breathe, Lindsay watches the two women that matter so much to her. One, because she's always loved her. The other, because she gave her hope when no one else could. Without Echo in Caroline's body, the Dollhouse might still be a profitable organization. Cindy might be lost in that underworld disguised as paradise, the innocent and brainwashed Libra, while Lindsay would be lost in a hell of her own.
"Know me so well, huh?" she says bitterly. "Alright then. I'm in."
Cindy looks up at her in disbelief. "I'm right here!" she says angrily. "You are making that decision without even asking me?"
"I'll leave you alone for now," Caroline tells them, placing a slip of paper on the table. "You can reach me here. My flight leaves tomorrow morning at eight." Her words are all businesslike, but Lindsay can easily detect the traces of vulnerablity, and determination. Caroline had a run-in with Alpha before. She's got something to prove. A feeling that Lindsay can relate to, easily.
When the front door falls shut, Cindy gets up and walks into the small room adjacent to their bedroom, slamming the door. Locking herself inside, then thinking better of it. Lindsay knows she's crying now, and she hates herself for being the reason. Yet, she doesn't have a choice. Just like Caroline has none.
She follows, unsure what to say or do, but feeling the need to be close to Cindy now.
There isn't much time left to explain herself. Two years since the Fall of the House of Dolls, since they picked up the pieces of their lives and did their best to create something beautiful, a home, love, something more - and still the fear that Cindy could reconsider one day holds her by a cold firm hand.
Cindy sits on the floor, her back against the wall. The anger is gone now, leaving resignation and fear in its wake, making Lindsay feel even worse.
"I'm sorry," she says. It seems like a start.
Cindy pushes herself up from the floor, turns and walks past her. Pauses.
"I can't lose you. I can't do this alone, Lindsay."
"You won't have to." Embracing her from behind, Lindsay lays both hands on Cindy's yet flat belly, protecively. Cindy remains silent, but she relaxes into the touch.
"Please understand, I can't turn her down, Cindy. She helped me when I had no hope left."
"Is that all? You're sure it's not some misguided guilt for when you kind of mistook her for me?" Those words were meant to hurt, and they do. Especially since there's some truth to them.
"He's murdering women. Because he thinks it's his right to shut them up when he feels like it. I can't run from this. I have an obligation."
"Don't you have an obligation to me? To the family we said we wanted to have and I agreed to in the first place because you wanted it so badly?"
"I thought it was what we both want."
Another memory, further down that road threatens to drown out the present, screaming not meant to be in her face. They didn't decorate the room yet, because doing it too early brings bad luck. All those years ago, she and Tom had been more confident, on a rare shared day off finding this cute crib they bought because they'd thought it was silly to wait too long. Lindsay easily remembers her former mother-in-law yelling at her about how something terrible was going to happen. And it had.
Cindy turns in her arms, giving her a sad smile. "We do. It's just that... I'm scared, Linds."
Me too, Lindsay thinks. Badly.
"It's going to be alright," she promises anyway, holding on tight, aware of time ticking away.
To believe in it is the only choice that's theirs now.
Author: Demeter
Fandom: Women's Murder Club/Dollhouse
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
A/N: The last. thing. ever. you'll hear from me on that subject, lol. Set in the universe of my WMC/Dh crossover obviously, posted today to celebrate the return of Dollhouse :)
Summary: Before the happily ever after in Different Lines, there are some loose ends to be tied up.
A Beautiful Day
By Demeter
Lindsay pretends to be asleep, listening to the soft sounds of Cindy moving around in the bedroom, the padding of bare feet, dishes on a tray clinking together. Sunlight is warming her face. Idly, she listens to Cindy humming a tune slightly off-key and she can't stifle the smile any longer. It's going to be a beautiful day.
"I knew you were awake, letting me do all the work as usual," Cindy says in a mock chiding tone. She sets the tray aside on the nightstand, and then the mattress dips. When Lindsay opens her eyes, Cindy is straddling her, the contact even through layers of fabric now practically jolting her awake. "Happy Birthday, you lazy bum," Cindy whispers, leaning down to kiss her.
They make love slowly and languidly, enjoy learning each other's bodies anew while the rays of the morning sun tickle their skin.
"I love it when you do all the work," Lindsay admits, teasingly, her tone low and breathless. Cindy shakes her head at her, but there's no denying she loves it too. It means she has all the power, which is true anyway.
It's been two years.
"I love you." Not that it isn't obvious, but for Cindy, words are important. Lindsay has finally overcome her hesitation of naming what she feels. Together, they've overcome so much worse.
***
The sound of the doorbell seems so out of place that it doesn't register until the second time. And they haven't had breakfast yet. "You go," Lindsay decides. "I don't think I could stand."
Cindy's expression is a mixture of smug pride and annoyance. "What if we just pretend--"
"It could be important."
"Right." Cindy sighs and gets up from the bed, shrugging into her robe to answer the door.
Lindsay reaches for her clothes too, wondering who is going to disturb them on a Sunday morning, worry casting a shadow over her bright mood already. The past few months, they've done their best to gain a little distance from past and present tribulations of their jobs, trying to map out the near future. She really doesn't care for any detours now.
Cindy's voice sounds dejected when she asks, "You're sure this cannot wait?"
"I'm sorry. It can't."
At the sound of the other woman's voice, Lindsay freezes; now she knows for sure that this can't be good. No phone call in advance, no warning. Not that she minds seeing her again, in general, but Caroline showing up just like this sets off every alarm bell on her mind. It's not likely that she just came by for social reasons. They aren't that kind of friends.
***
"Make yourself at home," Cindy says with a hint of spite. "How about breakfast?"
"I won't stay long," Caroline says apologetically, her gaze meeting Lindsay's. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have no choice. Lindsay, I need your help."
What Lindsay really wants is to say, sorry, not today. Instead, she pours some coffee for all of them, then leans against the kitchen counter. "What do you need?"
Caroline lays a couple of folders onto the table. "You know about Alpha. He's still out there... and obviously now he's killing again."
"What does that have to do with us?" Cindy asks sharply. "It's not in the SFPD's jurisdiction."
"Technically, it is not," Caroline agrees, giving the younger woman a regretful look.
Lindsay grips her coffee mug tighter, trying hard not to slip into memories that have just barely retreated into the past. Once, Caroline was Cindy. Seeing the two of them together, she can hardly understand what happened and how deeply the Dollhouse people were able to mess with people's minds. She doesn't know a whole lot about Alpha, but what little information she has is enough to make her want to stay away, especially now. "I hear a 'but'," she says.
"Part of his ritual was cutting up people. He seems to have changed it, or maybe it was always part of his repertoire. There's been a woman found with her mouth sewn shut."
Cindy's face turns white so rapidly Lindsay is glad that she is already sitting down - for herself, it seems like a plunge into nothing, just falling. Women with their mouths sewn shut, brutalized by an entitled-feeling bastard, a psychopath who thought of himself as Prince Charming. Kiss-Me-Not.
"How can you know?"
"Because he sent us a video of him doing it. Lindsay, that's not all. There were pictures of the other women. It seems like Billy Harris wasn't Kiss-Me-Not after all."
"But we found--" Even as she's protesting, the doubts that had been nagging at her mind all the time rise up full force. All the clues in one place, but none of them had to do with fairy tales. She looks at Cindy who has buried her face in her hands, and it's so very obvious what the right thing to do would be.Four years since Billy Harris' death. This new-old case is in the hands of the FBI now and that's where it should be. Lindsay's priorities have changed for sure in those years.
"There's a new task force," Caroline explains. "The powers that be sent me to get you on board and not take no for an answer. It's been cleared with your boss already."
The feeling of being trapped growing stronger until it's almost impossible to breathe, Lindsay watches the two women that matter so much to her. One, because she's always loved her. The other, because she gave her hope when no one else could. Without Echo in Caroline's body, the Dollhouse might still be a profitable organization. Cindy might be lost in that underworld disguised as paradise, the innocent and brainwashed Libra, while Lindsay would be lost in a hell of her own.
"Know me so well, huh?" she says bitterly. "Alright then. I'm in."
Cindy looks up at her in disbelief. "I'm right here!" she says angrily. "You are making that decision without even asking me?"
"I'll leave you alone for now," Caroline tells them, placing a slip of paper on the table. "You can reach me here. My flight leaves tomorrow morning at eight." Her words are all businesslike, but Lindsay can easily detect the traces of vulnerablity, and determination. Caroline had a run-in with Alpha before. She's got something to prove. A feeling that Lindsay can relate to, easily.
When the front door falls shut, Cindy gets up and walks into the small room adjacent to their bedroom, slamming the door. Locking herself inside, then thinking better of it. Lindsay knows she's crying now, and she hates herself for being the reason. Yet, she doesn't have a choice. Just like Caroline has none.
She follows, unsure what to say or do, but feeling the need to be close to Cindy now.
There isn't much time left to explain herself. Two years since the Fall of the House of Dolls, since they picked up the pieces of their lives and did their best to create something beautiful, a home, love, something more - and still the fear that Cindy could reconsider one day holds her by a cold firm hand.
Cindy sits on the floor, her back against the wall. The anger is gone now, leaving resignation and fear in its wake, making Lindsay feel even worse.
"I'm sorry," she says. It seems like a start.
Cindy pushes herself up from the floor, turns and walks past her. Pauses.
"I can't lose you. I can't do this alone, Lindsay."
"You won't have to." Embracing her from behind, Lindsay lays both hands on Cindy's yet flat belly, protecively. Cindy remains silent, but she relaxes into the touch.
"Please understand, I can't turn her down, Cindy. She helped me when I had no hope left."
"Is that all? You're sure it's not some misguided guilt for when you kind of mistook her for me?" Those words were meant to hurt, and they do. Especially since there's some truth to them.
"He's murdering women. Because he thinks it's his right to shut them up when he feels like it. I can't run from this. I have an obligation."
"Don't you have an obligation to me? To the family we said we wanted to have and I agreed to in the first place because you wanted it so badly?"
"I thought it was what we both want."
Another memory, further down that road threatens to drown out the present, screaming not meant to be in her face. They didn't decorate the room yet, because doing it too early brings bad luck. All those years ago, she and Tom had been more confident, on a rare shared day off finding this cute crib they bought because they'd thought it was silly to wait too long. Lindsay easily remembers her former mother-in-law yelling at her about how something terrible was going to happen. And it had.
Cindy turns in her arms, giving her a sad smile. "We do. It's just that... I'm scared, Linds."
Me too, Lindsay thinks. Badly.
"It's going to be alright," she promises anyway, holding on tight, aware of time ticking away.
To believe in it is the only choice that's theirs now.