Disclaimer: Women's Murder Club isn't mine. If it were, it would have lasted much longer than just one season. (see profile for a real disclaimer)

A/N: Happy Women's Murder Club Day!

"Anyone home?"

Juggling two full bags of groceries, Cindy just barely managed to snag her keys out of the lock before shutting Lindsay's front door with her foot. Almost immediately the tangy smell of tomato and basil wafted over her, making her stomach growl and her mouth water. She was starving, but her hunger was quickly forgotten when she heard the familiar sound of Martha scrambling excitedly toward her across the hardwood floor, almost immediately followed by the foreboding clanging of pans, a few choice curses, and the rip of a paper towel being torn off of roll.

"In here!" Lindsay called out to her.

Cindy chuckled and let her nose guide her straight to the kitchen, skirting her way around the excited dog as she went. Even though she knew what to expect when she got there, the sight of badass Homicide Detective Lindsay Boxer standing over the stove never seemed to get old, no matter how many times she'd seen it over the last four years worth of semi-weekly dinners. This time, however, Lindsay was stirring something that smelled suspiciously like Grandma Thomas' secret pasta sauce (which even she didn't even have the recipe for) and that alone made her heart warm and a lazy grin tug at the corners of her mouth.

Impulsively, Cindy veered toward stove. Shifting the heavy bags in her arms, Lindsay looked over her shoulder with a little smile just as she rocked up onto the balls of her feet and pecked her friend on the lips like they'd done it a million times before. It was short and sweet. It felt normal. Comfortable. And, despite the gentle swooping feeling that clung to every part of her being, if either of them had realized the enormity of what just happened things might have gotten awkward. But Cindy pulled back almost as quickly as she'd leaned in, shot a quick grin up at Lindsay, and then continued over toward the fridge to put the groceries away just like she always did every time she arrived.

So, their evening continued on. They chatted while Lindsay finished cooking their meal- spaghetti and meatballs, with fresh made garlic bread from the farmer's market down the street, and a small garden salad on the side- before moving out to the front porch with Martha, drinking beer as they watched the sun set and the city lights shimmer in the valley below.

She'd gone home that night with an extra bounce in her step and she hadn't been quite sure why. Whatever it was though, she hadn't questioned it. She was happy, content even, and that was all that mattered.

It was only on the following Thursday, when Cindy decided to visit Claire in the morgue during her lunch break and accidentally walked in on Ed greeting his wife with a homemade lunch resting in his lap and a loving kiss, that she figured it out. Witnessing the innocent PDA seemed to spark something inside of her, a memory, the sudden realization that she'd done the exact same thing to Lindsay nearly four days ago.

Oh, no.

Her eyes widened in horror, wishing, no praying, beyond all hope that it wasn't true. But, it was. She remembered how soft Lindsay's lips had been and how adorable she'd thought that the little speck of red sauce on the other woman's cheek had been.

What had she done?

But, more importantly, why had she done it? Why in the world had her stupid lips decided that kissing Lindsay- one of her best friends- was a good idea?

As quietly as she could, Cindy slipped back into the elevator with a thundering heart and shaky fingers pressed against her mouth. She knew that she was due for a good bout of mortification, after all, it had been nearly two years since the fateful night that she'd been dared to put on a show at her favorite gay bar and made a fool out of herself. But this? She was an idiot. An absolute idiot.

Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and waited for the doors to slide open. As soon as they did though, nothing, not even Jill's perky greeting upon seeing her favorite reporter, stopped her as she darted through the station and headed straight for the safety of her little red car.

"Dammit!" Cindy yelled, helplessly banging her head on the steering wheel.

What in the hell was she supposed to do now?

At some point Lindsay must have finally realized what had transpired between them as well, because only a few days later the awkwardness and mildly weird interactions had begun, raising even Jill and Claire's confused and questioning brows.

Cindy had done everything she could to forget about that damn kiss- counting off baseball stats in her head, working overtime at the paper, and even taking up reading cheesy romance novels in her spare time- but nothing had worked. The more that she actively tried to avoid thinking about it, the more that it became the only thing on her mind. It was a horrible, vicious cycle and she hated it.

Nearly three weeks went by before the permanent and somewhat embarrassing blush that had taken up residence on her cheeks finally seemed to disappear. Then, and only then, did she muster up enough courage to make her way over to Lindsay's once again. Like a shield, she stood at the front door with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag full of Chinese takeout from their favorite restaurant downtown in the other, nervous but no less eager to get back things back to normal. Lindsay hesitated when she opened the door, pausing like a deer in the headlights for a moment before visibly shaking it off with a huff of laughter and welcoming her with open arms.

But, things didn't go back to the way they used to be, much to her chagrin. It wasn't quite that simple.

As Lindsay unpacked the food and dished equal portions out onto two plates their conversation was stunted at best. For the first time in her life Cindy had no idea what to talk about. Thankfully though, they'd been friends long enough that they eventually settled into a comfortable silence before making their way to the living room and flipping through the channels on Lindsay's modest TV until they found a lame sci-fi thriller that looked mildly entertaining.

The only familiar thing that happened that night was when Lindsay fell asleep, long after the food was consumed and the bottle of wine was nearly depleted, sprawled out across the length of the cushions. Cindy sighed to herself and went through the motions of covering her with a blanket that always rested on the back of the nearby chair. Normally, she would have given Martha a loving pat on the head, left a quick note on the coffee table, and headed home without a second thought. But, she didn't quite make it that far that night.

Cindy carefully tucked the afghan around her shoulders and paused for a moment to study the slumbering woman's face. Lindsay looked so relaxed, almost peaceful, and she didn't see any harm in innocently indulging herself by reaching out to gently swipe a small mass of dark curls off of the other woman's forehead.

Lindsay snuffled quietly, her eyes fluttering open before Cindy had a chance to move away.

They both froze.

"Hey."

Cindy's pulse flared and a nervous breath caught in the back of her throat, "Hey."

"You leaving?" she asked with a yawn.

Cindy nodded, not trusting herself to answer. Instead, her eyes dropped down to Lindsay's mouth, lingering there longer than she probably should have. Guiltily, she looked back up at her friend expecting the worst, and was shocked when she found nothing but a tentative sparkle of curiosity in Lindsay's eyes.

Tugging absentmindedly at a strand of dark hair that was still wrapped around her finger, Cindy slowly inched forward. She hadn't realized how badly she wanted this, to kiss her again, not until that very moment. She ached for it. She longed to press Lindsay down into the sofa, to feel the first soft slide of their bodies against each other, and to learn the taste of her lips. Before heading over that night, Cindy had condemned herself to a life of not knowing those things, of not crossing the line between friendship and something more. But, that was before she realized that anything else was even an option.

Finally, their their lips brushed together- once, twice, three times- before Cindy cupped the sides of her friends face and captured her mouth in earnest. An unintelligible noise escaped from the back of Lindsay's throat, low and soft, and it made Cindy shiver. Her heart raced, her stomach fluttered and, despite telltale sign that her legs were about to fall asleep from crouching in front of the couch for so long, it was absolutely perfect.

Grinning inwardly, Cindy was just about to brush her tongue along the seem of Lindsay's lips when the other woman pulled back, hovering only a hairsbreadth away.

Cindy swallowed nervously, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Lindsay nodded up at her, the husky timber of her voice sending a shiver through Cindy, "I'm good. You?"

"Couldn't be better," Cindy smirked and leaned down to kiss her again.

"Run!"

Cindy did as she was told, her heart hammering in her chest as the bullets started flying. She still had nightmares about getting shot from the last time, of falling only feet away from the steps of the county courthouse. One would think that the sound of gunfire alone would be enough for her to duck and take cover as soon as possible, but that wasn't the case. Not this time. Cindy hesitated for a few seconds too long, foolishly looking back to make sure that Lindsay and Jacobi were safe. It was stupid of her. She should have known better.

A sickeningly familiar burn pierced through her outer thigh and before she could even blink she was falling face first toward the ground. The only thing she could do was throw her arms out in front of her and pray, but the second that her left hand hit the pavement two things happened- she heard a heart stopping snap and her arm gave out beneath her.

Cindy screamed.

The battle faded into the background.

So overwhelmed by the pain- white hot daggers piercing her from the tips of her fingers, to the point of her elbow, and down to the meat of her thigh- that she no longer heard the brash pops of guns, nor the police ordering the criminals to stand down. No, the only thing that she heard was the erratic beat of her own heart as panic sunk its vengeful claws into her. Tears streamed down her face and she cried out incoherently until her voice went hoarse.

She wanted it to stop. The pain, the terror. All of it.

"Cindy!"

She whimpered, a tiny part of her recognizing the sound of Lindsay's voice from afar.

"Cindy!"

She tried to roll over, torn between wanting to tell her friend what was wrong and begging for help, but nothing came out.

"Cindy! Cindy, can you hear me?"

This time, Lindsay's voice was closer, and a surprised scream tore from her already sore throat when she was suddenly turned over and someone put pressure on the wound in her leg.

"No! It hurts!" she sobbed, clinging to the tear blurred figure hovering over her with her good hand.

"I know," Lindsay told her shakily, even as she yelled out to someone over her shoulder, "Someone call the EMTs! Civilian down!"

"Lindsay?"

"Shh," she whispered, and Cindy felt the unmistakable press of lips upon hers, like an oasis in the desert and a cool balm being soothed over her skin, "it's gonna be okay. You're going to be fine, I promise."

Another wave of agony rolled through her as Lindsay readjust the pressure on her thigh. Then she realized that it was Jacobi taking over, his reassuring voice slowly invading her senses like ink blooming in water.

"-else hurt?"

Cindy squinted up at him, her brow furrowed as she tried desperately to figure out what he was asking, "Huh?"

"Does anything else hurt?" he said slowly, "It's important that you tell me. The bus is almost here and they'll need to know what to treat first."

Of course. That was logical enough.

Struggling to think, she took stock of herself, cataloging the biggest problem areas, "Leg, wrist, chin."

He nodded and said something else, but she was already lost in the pain again. All she wanted to do was burrow her face in the crook of Lindsay's neck and let the blessed blackness take her, sleeping off the worst part of the pain. But, she wasn't quite so lucky this time. Consciousness clung to her like a stubborn burr stuck to a hiker's sock.

"Cindy?"

"Hm?" she hummed, her eyes snapping to attention as Lindsay nudged her on the sides of her face with her fingers.

"They're going to move you now, okay?"

Vaguely, she registered the sudden arrival of more people buzzing around her, but all she could do was whimper as panic once again struck her, "No!"

"It's okay, it's okay," Lindsay tried to reassure her, staying by her side as long as she could even though she was being pushed out of the way by the EMT's who were just doing their jobs, "I'll be with you the whole time, I promise."

Reluctantly, Cindy released the death grip that she had on the front of Lindsay's kevlar vest and nodded. She let them work on her, struggling, and failing, to keep her composure as they poked and prodded and strapped a brace around her neck. It was too much. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and focused on her breathing.

It was the only thing she could do.

She must have passed out at some point, because the next thing she knew she was waking up in a hospital bed with Jill and Lindsay sitting on either side of her.

"What times'it?" she slurred, trying to blink away the cobwebs.

"Hey," Lindsay grinned softly, squeezing Cindy's good hand, "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"

"Dunno. Must've given me the goo' s'uff."

Jill laughed, rubbing a comforting palm over her knee below the blanket, "Oh, I think she's gonna be just fine."

Looking up at Lindsay, Cindy smiled sleepily, and everything finally came into focus. Rubbing her thumb across the other woman's knuckles, she kept up the gentle motion until the she grew tired and the world started fading around her.

The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her was the comforting press of lips against her cheek.

Yes, she thought with a sleepy twitch of her lips, Jill was right. She was going to be just fine.

End.