Innocent Beginnings-- Ch. 1 [WMC: Cindy/Lindsay]
DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author. Will be archived with P&P upon completion.
These Feelings I Have
Chapter 1
6 months after the events of “Never Tell.”
Cindy is fidgeting more than normal, I think to myself as I take a sip of my margarita. She’s sitting across the table from me at Papa Joe’s and she keeps doing things with her hands. Twirling her fork between her fingers. Twisting her napkin on her lap. And then there is her foot, which is tapping a mile a minute on the floor. I know this because she’s accidentally hit my foot twice and shot me apologetic looks both times. She’s… adorable… when she’s like this, I think, and then mentally kick myself. No she’s not. She’s just Cindy.
“Earth to Lindddsssayyyy,” I hear Jill’s mocking voice, “Wakey, wakey inspector.”
How long have they been trying to catch my attention? I look over at her and try for a casual smile. “Hmm, what? Oh, sorry. Was thinking about a case.”
“Uh huh, sure ya were,” Jill slurs, having obviously had one too many drinks, “So… what’s his name?”
All three of my friends are looking at me now, but somehow I can only feel Cindy’s stare. I cast a frown in Jill’s direction, determinedly not looking at Cindy. “You know I’m not seeing anyone. Not since that thing with Pete didn’t work out. I’m just not ready yet.”
Jill idly moves a stirrer around her drink, some sort of mixed drink, and narrows her eyes. “I knew you weren’t seeing anyone yesterday, but today you seem… distracted. And it has been six long, celibate months.”
I shake my head and take another decidedly casual sip of my drink. “You’re delusional. Claire, cut her off.”
Claire makes a grab for Jill’s glass and Jill shrieks and pushes her away. “Hey, back off, that’s mine!”
And we laugh, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And I’m glad, because it’s taken the attention off of me and my weirdness.
And that’s what it is really. Why can’t I just find a nice guy and settle down, like Claire and Ed? Pete was nice enough, kind, sweet and funny. He treated me well. I keep telling myself that the distance killed that relationship, but I know deep down that it’s me. Just like it was me that was the cause of my split from Tom. Great guys keep falling into my lap, literally, and somehow it never feels right enough for me to want to hold on. Tom was my best friend before we dated, and aren’t you supposed to marry your best friend? Isn’t that what dreams are made of? Isn’t that how forever comes to pass?
“So, I’ve got a big date tonight! Eight o’clock!”
Cindy interupts a debate between Claire and Jill as to whether Jill really has had enough for the evening with this sudden pronounciation. I look up to find her eyes boring into mine. Lucky for me, Claire speaks first. “Who with ? C’mon, spill!”
She breaks my gaze and looks at Claire with a small smile. “A guy named Mike I met while doing a piece on the neighborhood watch group in Corona Heights. He’s head of the watch, seems like a really nice guy. He also runs this amazing summer camp for homeless kids….”
And she goes on and on, regaling us with the many charms of Mike the neighborhood watch guy. I feel my stomach twist, and something burns my chest, my throat. I know I couldn’t speak right now, even if I tried.
It’s all too much and I half stand in the booth, swigging what’s left of my drink in one gulp. “I gotta go,” I say turning to look at Jill, who’s blocking me in.
All three of my friends are currently staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You didn’t get a call,” Jill says with a quizzical expression on her face.
I roll my eyes. “Didn’t I tell you I’d had my cell phone implanted into my brain? Much more convenient that way. No, my phone did not ring and I did not get a call. I just have to go.”
In a perfect world, she would have moved when I told her to. Instead, Claire chimes in. “So why do you have to go then?”
I make a noise that is half moan, half growl. “What are you, my keepers? I have someplace to be.”
“How are you going to get home?” Jill asks in an incredulous voice, “You rode here with Cindy.”
“I’m a big girl, with a gun strapped to my hip. You think I can’t safely walk ten blocks to my house in broad daylight?”
Claire and Jill look taken aback by my gruff tone, but Cindy is staring at her lap, biting her bottom lip. I turn back to Jill and glare, and she finally gets the point and moves out of the booth. I exit behind her, turning to toss a few bills on the table. “That should cover me and then some. I will catch up with you guys later.”
And I turn and walk away, leaving stunned silence in my wake.
*~*~*
Once outside, I shove my hands deep into my pockets and start walking in the direction of my house. I take a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and try to relax. Trying to get a handle on these emotions raging inside of me is a lot harder than it should be. I let them come to the surface one at a time, naming them as they go. Fear… sadness… loneliness... jealousy…? Wait, what was that last one? Jealousy? What in the world do I have to be jealous of?
Right, there it is. Cindy and her hot date with Mike. Which she’s obviously so excited about that she’s got even more frantic energy than normal. Cindy and Mike, the community watch leader and savior of homeless children. How angelic.
It makes me want to puke.
I should be happy for her, right? When did I get to be so jaded and cynical that I don’t want my very best friend to be happy? She deserves to be happy. I really do want Cindy to be happy.
With me.
My eyes go wide for a moment. Did I really just add that on to the end of that last thought? I want Cindy to be happy with me?
With me? Define with!
And there it is, pushing itself aggressively to the surface again, shoving away the fear and sadness to be noticed. Jealousy. I am jealous of the fact that Cindy has a date with a nice, wholesome guy who she is obviously very excited to hang out with, and not because I want that guy for myself. But because I want Cindy for myself.
Here we are again, at these same crossroads. I’ve been here before I think wearily.Several times. There was a girl my last two years of college whose name was Liz. She ran track with me for SFSU and we got to be really good friends. Tall, blonde haired and gorgeous. I wasn’t dating anyone, wasn’t interested in anyone, and she was all I could think about for weeks. I found myself making stupid excuses to spend time with her. Changing the paths I travelled across campus to increase the odds of us running into one another. Sneaking glances at her when we’d change in the locker room together before practice. And I hated her boyfriend on general principal. He wasn’t right for her. A 6’3” center for the basketball team, her boyfriend came from money and had the looks to go with it, but he never treated her as good as she deserved to be treated. In my minds eye, I could have done better. I would have done better, if she’d only given me the chance.
And then we graduated and to take my mind off of the fact that she had moved to Seattle to do her graduate work, I threw myself into the first relationship that came available, when I was in the police academy. Tom Hogan was there when I really needed a distraction. And it worked in a manner of speaking. I was able to bury my feelings for Liz way down deep inside and more or less forget about them. Tom was funny, he was sweet. He was attractive, hot even, or so all of my friends said when they met him. And he obviously loved me. And when you love someone as much as he loved me, you want to marry them, and so he asked, and I said yes because it’s what the girl is supposed to do, and I bought a dress and we said I do, and cut the cake, and didn’t have a honeymoon because we had a job to do, both of us. New kid on the block in the SFPD, I was walking a beat with a partner I didn’t know yet. Getting to know a neighborhood that that I’d promised to protect from the criminal underworld. And Tom, well he was in the process of trying to get promoted to homicide, having spent the mandated five years walking a beat.
And we were incredibly compatible, right? Both of us were cops, so there was always something to talk about over dinner, those few nights we both managed to make it home at the same time. We didn’t spend a lot of time together, a fact that drove Tom crazy, but I was content with that. I had always been an independent person, I told myself, too independent to need someone in the way he needed me. I wasn’t the fairy tale, Prince Charming type. And we tried really hard, for eight long years, to make things work between us. He did, at least. He bought me flowers and told me he loved me and hugged me whenever he could. I tolerated sex and pretended to really enjoy it when all I could think about was “Could you please hurry up and finish and get the hell off me?”
Eventually, we reached a point where he didn’t even bother to try those things anymore, because the result was always the same. A quick smile and a mumbled thanks, maybe a kiss on the cheek for him before I rushed off to another case. Then I came home one day to find his things gone and a note saying he’d moved in with his brother at his place on Telegraph Hill. We still saw each other at work from time to time, but two weeks later, Tom accepted a transfer to the Tenderloin District, where he could hone his skills as a responding officer on murder investigations, hoping to make Homicide within a year. And two weeks after that, a bicycle courier delivered divorce papers marked “sign here” to my house.
I look up, realizing my trek down memory lane has carried me beyond my house. With a vexed sigh, I turn around and head back up the block, dragging my attention back to the question at hand.
I admit that I care very deeply about Cindy. She’s a friend… hell, probably my best friend, even more so than Jill and Claire. She gets me in a way no one else really does. And when I look into her eyes, is it just my imagination, or is there a spark there? Could that be the reason why I can’t seem to stop looking at her?
So after months of secret glances and innocent touches disguised as friendship, has it really come to this? Me, admitting to myself at least, that I have a… thing… for Cindy Thomas? It’s absurd!
I have no evidence to even suggest that Cindy would share such feelings with me, or even that she could. She’s been out on dozens of dates with guys in the time that I have known her. Never once has she gone out on a date with a girl. Hell, she even found that Jamie Galvan character to be attractive. What was it she said? She trusted him because he was cute?
I choke back a gag, and continue walking. I can’t have these feelings, I think firmly to myself. This is just foolish. Cindy’s friendship means the world to me, and there’s no sense in risking all of that for these unattainable more-than-friends desires, no matter what. I nod to myself, as if signifying that this is the end of the discussion. I make a right turn into my driveway, stepping around my Jeep and come to an abrupt halt before I reach the porch steps.
Sitting on them is the same red-headed girl who has dominated my thoughts since I walked out of the diner. I scowl at her. “What are you doing here?” I ask waspishly.
She returns my scowl with a glare of her own that flattens my defiance. She doesn’t do angry. And I don’t know how to respond now that she is. “I was coming to make sure your sorry ass was okay,” she says irritably.
She stands up and brushes off the seat of her brown courduroy pants, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders to ward off the fall chill. I think she must be planning to leave, but she doesn’t move. She just stands there on my steps, glaring at me.
“What?” I bark, trying to startle her.
“Why did you leave?” she shoots back, unfazed.
I grit my teeth and shove past her, stomping up the stairs to my front door. “I already told you guys, I have things to do. And it’s really none of your business anyway. Now could you please go away? I’ll talk to you later.”
I open the door and push my way into my house. Martha rushes up to me, tail wagging, licking my hand frantically. I turn to shut the door and am shocked to see Cindy leaning against the door frame. She takes a step inside and kneels down to pat Martha on the head, scratching behind her ears. Then she stands up and kicks the door shut with her foot before returning her somewhat angry gaze to me.
I roll my eyes “Sure, come on in, then, make yourself at home.”
I rip my jacket off with far more force than is necessary and throw it in the general direction of the banister. I miss completely and it falls in a heap on the floor. Ignoring it, I stomp through the house to the kitchen, reach into the fridge and grab a beer. I twist the top of and take a long pull from the bottle. Unsuprisingly, Cindy has followed me. She watches from the door as I take another long drink from the bottle and then narrows her eyes at me.
“This is about Mike, isn’t it?”
I glower at the bottle and turn away. “Pssh, no,” I scoff, “Why would I care who you fuck on a Friday night?”
Holy shit. Did I seriously just say that out loud? I close my eyes, inwardly cursing my stupid, big mouth and hear only silence in the background. Slowly, I turn to face Cindy, expecting some more anger, and schooling my face into one of sincere apology. “I’m sorr-“
I stop talking when I see the look on her face. Far from angry, she looks… hurt. Devestated really.
“Is that really the kind of girl you think I am?” she whispers, her dark eyes burning into my face.
“I… no, of course not,” I mumble, leaning back against the counter and staring at my feet, “I didn’t mean that. I was just….”
“You were just what?”
I sigh heavily and look at the bottle in my hands. With a grimace, I walk it over to the sink, upending the contents and watching them swirl down the drain. I rinse the bottle out, set it to the side. Anything to avoid having to answer that question. I grip the edges of the counter hard enough to make my knuckles white. I feel her come up behind me, feel one small hand touching my back. “Answer the question, Lindsay,” she says softly, “Please?”
I can feel the heat of her body emanating across the small gap between us and it’s nearly too much for me to bear. “It’s nothing, really. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that at all. It’s… it’s your life and I want you to be happy.”
I cast a small glance her way and now she looks… dissapointed? “Oh,” she whispers, “Okay. I am gonna go then. Gotta get ready for my date, I suppose.”
And she turns and walks out of the kitchen towards the front door. Unable to stop myself I hurry after her. “Cindy, wait,” I yell as she reaches my front door.
Her hand on the knob, she turns slowly to face me. “What?”
“Are you… do you really have a date tonight? ‘Cuz I was thinking if you don’t… maybe instead we could….”
I see her taking a deep breath, and then her eyes meet mine. I take a few cautious steps towards her, reaching out to place my hand on the back of the door, keeping it from opening. I look away as she finally finds her voice. “What do you mean do I really have a date tonight? Did you think I was making that up?”
Some of the irritation has worked its way back into her voice and I can tell I am treading on thin ice here. “Well I don’t know, I mean… this just came out of nowhere and… and I just thought maybe you… were trying to… you know… get a rise out of me.”
Somehow I regret those words before they are even out of my mouth. Crack! The ice breaks beneath me. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe the world doesn’t revolve around you? And these kind of things might not seem so sudden to you if you’d actually talk to me about something beside work? You don’t want me to go on a date with a guy who is nice and kind and one of the good guys in this world? What’s the better alternative, Lindsay? Tell me, please.”
I feel myself flush. “That… that’s not what I mean, I just want… I want… you know…” I stammer, and feel like a complete idiot as she glares up at me from her 5’4” height.
Her rage seems to make her much more taller as it diminishes me. She reaches out and hits my shoulder, hard, and I step out of the way as she pushes past me and begins to pace. I rub my sore shoulder and wince… the girl packs quite a wallop when she’s mad. Finally she stops and throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t get it. What, Lindsay, what do you want? Because nothing I do is ever right by you. So for God’s sake, tell me what the fuck you want from me, and I’ll do it. Just tell me Lindsay!”
And there it is. I should stop myself, I know I should, but it’s as close to point blank asking as she will ever get. And I’m tired of holding back, I’m tired of doing the right thing and burying my feelings and pretending they don’t exist. And I’ve never been good at telling, anyway, but I am pretty good at showing.
So I take two long steps across the foyer to where she is standing. I reach out with one hand to wrap around her waist, pulling her close against me, and allow the other to tangle in the thick, red hair at the back of her head. And then I lower my mouth to hers.
And I kiss her.
I pour every single ounce of emotion I can muster into this kiss, knowing that it could be the only one I ever get, the only chance I ever get to make her understand just what exactly I feel inside every time she is around me. I’m expecting more pain. A punch, or a knee to a most sensitive area, and her stepping over my prone form on the floor and making her way to my door. What I am not expecting is for her arms to snake around my neck, for her to pull me even closer and open her mouth under mine. I wasn’t expecting that at all.
But I give it to her, everything I possibly can. I lean into her body, pressing her back against the wall, insinuating one lean thigh between her legs, grinding my hip against her. Her moan reverberates through my body, rattling my soul, and I feel weak at the knees.
The feeling must be mutual, because the next thing I know we are both sliding to the floor and I feel her break away from the kiss as we hit bottom. She lays head head on my shoulder, her panting breath warm through the thin fabric of my black tee shirt. “Wow,” she whispers, when she’s finally regained her breath.
She looks up at me then, and her brown eyes are sparkling more than usual. I look at her, unable to move or smile, waiting for her to go first.
Cindy talks a lot on a normal day, but today must not be normal, because she settles for kissing me again. Eventually we break apart a second time and she leaves her hands where they are, on either side of my face. She tilts my face to force me to look at her and she smiles, that big dazzling smiles I see a lot of when she’s around me. Strange, but I’ve never noticed it before. “So Inspector,” she whispers seductively, and my title has never sounded so damn good to my ears before, “What say we move this to the couch?”
I swallow once and look into her eyes with a small smile. “I thought you had a date?”
She shrugs. “It was destined for failure anyway. I’ve only got eyes for you.”
On to CHAPTER TWO....