WMC (L/C) Nightmares & Redemption (1/4?)
Title: Nightmares & Redemption (1/4?)
Author: sportysmurf (takcm@hotmail.com)
Fandom: Women’s Murder Club
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
Rating: dunno - NC-17 at some point for some situational content
Archive: P&P, anyone else, please ask
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine they’re James Patterson’s and I’m only playing with them.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Occurs after the end of season 1 and doesn’t take into account any of VS2 (which is far better than I can write). Explores aftermath of those episodes. Cindy's not quite alright.
A/N: ~1300 words
I write mostly fluff, I admit it. Here I am attempting to expand my capabilities and be serious and I’ve found it to be very different and difficult. But I’m trying. Be nice.
Many thanks toemthefrootloop for being patient and helping me to outline what and how I wanted to say things. How many times and in how many different ways can I ask the same question?
“She called you. She’s having screaming nightmares and she called you?” Jill knew she sounded flat and somewhat bitter.
“Well, yes. She was kind of incoherent. She said - well, she said she needed someone.” Lindsay closed her eyes, remembering the early morning distraught, hiccupping call.
Three days ago...
The annoying buzz of her cell phone woke Inspector Lindsay Boxer from a not particularly restful sleep. She hadn't slept well for weeks. Between Cindy being shot, Pete and Corinne Stephens' dead body in her bed, sleep was just not happening.
“Boxer,” she rasped, not bothering to check the display, sure it was a job-related call.
“Hello?” All she could hear was muffled sobbing, sniffling and the occasional hiccup. “Who is this?” Lindsay was irritated; it was, after all, past 3 a.m. She looked at the display and sat bolt upright, her irritation changing immediately to concern.
“Cindy? Is that you? What’s wrong? Where are you?” came spilling out.
“Out - outside. I’m outside.” Came the tremulous reply.
Lindsay leaped out of bed and ran to her door and wrenched it open, Martha barking unnoticed at her side. Parked on an angle at the curb was the reporter’s little red car, Maggie. Tapping on the window, she opened the door on a sobbing redhead.
“Cindy, honey?” Kneeling beside her friend. Martha wiggled her way in and nuzzled Cindy’s knee. “C’mon kiddo, let’s get you inside and warm you up.” She gently pried Cindy’s cold hands from the steering wheel and turned her to face her. Swollen, haunted eyes stared straight through her and she took in the blotchy cheeks and rumpled hair.
“C’mere, you.” She said, gathering the little reporter in her arms and rising to her feet. She carefully backed out from the car and kicked the door shut. Martha whined and paced nervously around her feet.
Lindsay noted that although the sobbing had stopped, the little redhead in her arms was chilled and trembling violently. She held her close and walked rapidly into the house, hooking the door shut behind her with her foot, Martha trotting along at her side.
Cindy had yet to utter a word since she’d reached the car. As she bent to set her on the couch, Cindy clutched at her arm “No! Don’t let go of me!” she whimpered.
“Shhh. I’m not going anywhere.” Instead, she turned and sat back into a corner of the sofa and settled down with Cindy curled in her lap. At this point Lindsay realized that Cindy wasn’t the only one shivering, being that she’d not bothered to dress before galloping out of the house; she was clad in only a tank top and panties. Snagging the throw off the back of the sofa, she covered them both and then wrapped her long arms around the small bundle of reporter.
It was a struggle to not demand an explanation of what was wrong so she could fix it. Figuring that Cindy would speak when she felt ready, Lindsay simply rubbed her back and rocked her a bit. “Shhh. You’re safe, it’ll be ok.” She whispered into Cindy’s hair.
Eventually Cindy’s breathing slowed and her shivering quieted. She pulled back and sat up. Looking into dark, concerned eyes, tears welled up and she quickly brushed them away. It broke Lindsay’s heart to see her normally exuberant friend so distraught. The soft expressive eyes that were usually alight with energy and intensity - life, were instead full of fear and pain.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you…” mumbled the redhead haltingly. “I just wanted, needed - need to be with someone right now.” Cindy looked down at her hands twisting in her lap.
Cindy watched as a large hand reached out to cover her much smaller ones.
“Always. Anytime - anything you need. I’ll be here,” whispered Lindsay, knowing she hadn’t been of late. Remembering that she’d left Cindy in the hospital for Pete. Excusing herself for a sometime and now absent boyfriend instead of staying at the side of a staunch friend and ally. A friend who had been shot on her watch.
I can be patient. I can wait for her to tell me in her own time. I can be here for her. She ran her thumb over the back of Cindy’s hand and tried not to hold her breath while she waited for her friend to continue.
Cindy took a deep breath but didn’t look up, nor did she speak. Instead, she focused on the movement of Lindsay’s thumb. Finally, she gently tugged her hands away and crawled to the opposite end of the couch. Martha took the opportunity to jump up with her. Cindy immediately buried her face in Martha’s neck and tangled her hands in her fur.
Lindsay slipped off the couch and curled her feet beneath her, keeping her eyes on the tiny redheaded ball curled up around Martha. There was something strangely comforting about the way the reporter’s red hair merged into the dog’s orangey fur. She smiled faintly at the thought that she’d had her position usurped - by her dog.
Waking sometime later, Lindsay was confused as to where she was until she heard a breathy little snore. She looked over to see Cindy still curled up on the couch, hands still deeply entwined in Martha’s ruff. She’d raised her head in her sleep enough to breath comfortably.
She looked so peaceful and calm. Much more so than when she’d arrived. Come to think of it, she still didn’t know what had upset her friend and ended her up at her home, fearful and sobbing. Despite her frustration, Lindsay knew that interrogating her friend would just make her withdraw. Somehow she would have to gather the patience to wait and let the story come out.
God, she looks so young…
Deciding to let the reporter sleep, Lindsay rose, stretched and headed towards her bedroom.
A small voice whispered, “Don’t say anything yet, please?”
The brunette whirled on her heel to see a groggy redhead looking at her pleadingly.
“Not if you don’t want me to. I won’t say a word.”
“Thanks. Its just, I’m not sure…I don’t actually know…” she trailed off. “ I mean, I haven’t even really told you what’s going on. I’m not sure I know what’s going on.”
“Whenever you’re ready.” Cindy could hear the questions and concern behind the sincerity in Lindsay’s statement and inwardly thanked her for not using her famous laservision to try and wring it out of her.
“I’m not sure exactly what’s wrong. I mean, I think I am, but I’m not sure and I - .“
"Slow down," Lindsay was back by her side in two quick strides. With a reproving look from Martha for displacing her, the brunette slid onto the sofa beside her friend. "I meant it - take as much time as you need. Anything you need, its yours."
To herself, Lindsay said, "I'm yours."