Title: Sometimes, Both are True 3/3
Fandom: Women's Murder Club
Archiving: Ralst is welcome to it, others please ask.
Disclaimer: Property of James Patterson and ABC. Writing for fun not profit.
Spoilers: Episodes 1x12 and beyond.
Summary: Cindy's shooting leaves Jill a wreck, Lindsay pissed off, and Cindy a step away from being handcuffed.
Jill was certain that whatever higher power ruled the universe was having a good laugh at her expense.
She'd spent the last few days replaying her conversation with Claire, thinking about Cindy, and wondering what to do about it. Two sleepless nights later nothing seemed any clearer. Jill knew that her secret was safe with Claire, and yet now that the words had been spoken aloud she found it impossible to shove her feelings back into their nice dark box.
Jill loved Cindy, but Jill couldn't allow herself to love Cindy. A paradox, but both were true, and that it was driving the attorney crazy. Jill had always been able to pick and choose her loved ones. Foster parents came and went, friends (all except Lindsay who she couldn't shake with a box of dynamite and lit match), lovers, everyone had a shelf life, and even loosing Luke had left Jill with a renewed faith in her ability to protect her heart. As much as Jill told herself that she was in control, she knew that when it came to a certain red-haired reporter she was utterly lost.
Jill had been so desperate that she'd gone to Lindsay's apartment. Even if she didn't tell Lindsay anything, she could at least drink herself silly and pass out. She might finally get some sleep. She'd even stopped and picked up a pizza.
Martha was lying on the couch and the shower was running when she'd let herself in. Jill had dropped the pizza box on the kitchen counter and plopped down next to the Border Collie. A good ear scratching had ensued, preventing Jill from turning on the TV. If only she'd flipped on the damn idiot box, she probably wouldn't have heard the distinctly not Lindsay sounding moans coming from the bathroom.
The ADA knew two things almost simultaneously; someone was having a good time, and Lindsay was not in the bathroom. Jill had been friends with Lindsay Boxer for most of her adult life, and over the course of many late night conversations they'd discussed life, love, and sex. Lindsay might have looked like a butch in shinning leather, but unfortunately for the women of San Francisco she was straight and didn't really have aspirations to change that.
Another moan reached Jill's ears, and with eerie clarity she knew. The list of people who had access to the apartment was limited, and Jill had just left one of the two other people who had a key, sitting in the kitchen helping Nate with his homework. Sure enough, when Jill actually paid attention to her surroundings she spotted Cindy's ever present moleskin notebook on the table. Could the redhead really be having sex with someone in Lindsay's shower?
Jealousy like she'd never experienced flooded through Jill. Here she'd been agonizing over how to share her feelings with Cindy and all the time the damn reporter had been screwing someone else. Jill got off the couch and reached for her bag. She should leave before she either barged into the bathroom and smacked whatever stupid boy Cindy though was good enough for her, or dissolved into tears.
Her hand was on the doorknob when she remembered the pizza. She ran back over and picked up the box. Back at the door, she realized her keys were still on the counter. She dropped her bag, trying to pick up the keys. She was such a mess, and it was all Cindy's fault.
Was Cindy even healthy enough to be having sex? She'd looked so small and tired when Jill had seen her a few days ago. Who did this guy think he was? The woman had been shot, she couldn't possibly be up for sex yet. And in the shower of all places. Talk about insensitive and selfish.
"Oh my God… Jill!"
The blonde head turned so fast she swore she'd have a crick in her neck the next morning. The bathroom door was still closed. The water was still running. And Cindy had most definitely just screamed her name. Jill's brain couldn't keep up. There was a chance that Jill's assumptions had been wrong, that Cindy was in fact alone in the shower. There was no boy, and the ADA was fairly confident that she was the only Jill in Cindy's life. If these theories were true, then Cindy Thomas was not twenty feet away, masturbating in Lindsay's shower and apparently fantasizing about her. Things like that just didn't happen. Especially not to people like Jill. It was cheesy and angsty and way too much like something out of an episode of Three's Company.
She closed her eyes against her better judgment, imagining Cindy in the shower; head tilted back, one hand caressing her breasts the other buried between her…
The sudden silence made Jill's eyes pop open. The water wasn't running. Shit. Jill looked at the door in a panic. There was no way she could possibly make it. The creak of the bathroom door announced that her time was up. The usually composed attorney just barely managed to flop back onto the couch like she'd been there all along. Martha added to the illusion by laying her head once again on Jill's thigh.
She was unprepared for the vision that walked down the hallway. Cindy looked like some frat boy's wet dream. Her hair was damp and tousled, making the usually bright red darker and richer. Her glasses perched on the tip of her nose as if to reveal her chocolate brown eyes. Cindy was a beautiful girl, and Jill felt like a letch, but she couldn't stop herself from tracking the cleavage framed by soft blue cotton with her eyes. Sweat beaded on her forehead when she realized Cindy's nipples were hard. Looking away from the younger woman's breasts just brought the shortness of the shirt into sharp relief. How was it physically possible that such a short woman could posses such lusciously long legs? Even the redhead's toes were attractive.
Jill was going to have a heart attack. But damn, what a way to go.
The two women continued to stare at each other. Cindy was the first to form words. "Um, hi." Her hands self-consciously drifted down to the hem of her shirt, trying to cover up the expanse of visible thigh. "I thought babysitting duty was over."
"What?" Jill valiantly tried to will blood back to her brain.
"You know, me being constantly watched by you, Lindsay, or Claire for the past three weeks."
"Oh. No. I needed to talk to Lindsay." Jill wet her very dry lips and took a breath. "I thought you were in my shower… she was in the shower." She stopped and began again. "I heard you in the shower…" Shit, don't say that! "I thought that she was home and in the shower. I decided to wait. Where is Lindsay anyway?"
Cindy frowned. It wasn't like Jill to stumble over words. The woman was a professional litigator. Something was obviously wrong. Without really thinking about it, Cindy moved to the couch and sat on the other side of Martha. "Lindsay went out of town for the weekend. She asked me to watch Martha." Cindy pushed her glasses up, a nervous habit when she didn't know what to do with her hands. "Are you okay Jill?"
Jill's eyes widened when Cindy sat down. Way too close, her body screamed. "No. I mean yes. I'm fine. I just wanted to discuss something with Lindsay." Jill moved the dog's head off her thigh, knowing that she had to get off the couch and out of the suddenly very small apartment with all speed. The warm hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.
"Seriously Jill. You're obviously upset about something. Can't I help? I know I'm not Lindsay, but I'm your friend too." A pause. "Right? Still friends?" A tiny bit of worry made itself known in those three words. Enough that Jill realized that she hadn't been as slick as she though in her attempt to put distance between them.
She couldn't handle this. It was too much. Jill ran both hands through her hair. "I can't." She stood, feeling Cindy's hand drop from her arm.
"Ok. Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep myself." There was physical hurt in Cindy's tone. "She'll be back Sunday night. I'll tell her you stopped by."
If she had just turned and walked to the door she would have been fine, but Jill made the mistake of looking back down at the younger woman still on the couch. Jill called herself three kinds of an unfeeling bitch. "No. Cindy it's just that I have to talk to Lindsay. I can't talk to you about it because…"
Cindy waited for the end of the sentence that never came. Jill just waved her hands around. "Because?"
"Because you're, well you're…" Again no ending in sight.
Cindy was confused, and beginning to get a little angry. "Because what? I'm not Lindsay? I'm not old enough? I'm not experienced enough? You just don't trust me? What Jill?" Cindy stood up to face the other woman. "You're clearly upset about something, and instead of trying to talk to me about it you'd rather wait two days until Lindsay gets back?" She stepped into Jill's personal space. "You know, that really sucks."
Jill didn't know what to do. Cindy was completely right. She was treating her like crap, and couldn't think of a way around it. On top of that she was still so turned on she could barely see straight, and had Claire's words ringing in her head. "I can't talk to you about you! I need Lindsay to help me figure out what to do!"
Cindy opened her mouth to argue back. She frowned, and then looked up at the blonde. "You can't talk to me about me?"
"That's not what I said." Jill's hand began to tremble.
"No, you distinctly said I can't talk to you about you."
Jill backed away from the shorter woman. "I misspoke. I meant that I can't talk to you about it. It's about a case."
Cindy's mind was processing things that didn't make sense. "Then you said you need Lindsay to help you figure out what to do. What to do about what?"
"It's just that murder the other night. I need Lindsay to help me figure out whether or not I should put two junkies on the stand." Oh my God, that sounded weak even to Jill's ears.
"You're lying." Cindy followed Jill as she backed toward the door. "You can't talk to me about me, and you don't know what to do." Cindy didn't even seem to be aware that she was speaking out loud. "You've been putting up a wall with me since the fight we had. No. Not since the fight, since I left the hospital." Brown eyes blinked several times, then widened and focused on Jill who was a foot away from the door. "You like me. And when I got shot it scared you."
It wasn't a question, but the incredulous tone in Cindy's voice when she made that announcement didn't seem to support the theory either.
Jill felt the door against her back. She shook her head. "I don't." Claire had been right, Cindy put it together. Jill rested her head against the wooden portal that she'd almost managed to escape out of and released a sigh.
"You do. It's the only explanation." Cindy still didn't sound like she believed it, but she was arguing her point anyway. The other woman looked like she was in agony. Cindy saw tears well in Jill's eyes and moved closer. She was so confused. Jill liked her and Jill was crying. She must be in some sort of Twilight Zone.
"I don't like you Cindy," Jill said as a few tears slipped free. "I love you."
Jill watched as brown eyes got disturbingly wide. "That's not funny."
"No, it's not. Ironic? Yes. Painful? Sure thing. But not funny." There was a hint of something in Jill's voice that made Cindy really look at her. The blonde was scared. Terrified.
"You love me? As in the in love with me want to kiss me all over and have lots of sex and grow old together kind, or the pat me on the head because I'm just such a great reporter you love me kind?"
Jill could stop the small laugh that escaped her. Leave it to Cindy to use fifty words when ten would do. "The first kind." She stepped away from the door, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. Something had just clicked. This woman was amazing and smart and hot as hell. She loved her, and what was so damn scary about that? Especially when Jill reminded herself that she'd been the main feature of Cindy's fantasies but a few moments ago. "So which kind is it for you? Because after the way you called out my name a few minutes ago, I'm betting it's the f…"
The rest of Jill's sentence was cut off by a pair of very soft lips.
Cindy was done with rational. Jill Bernhardt had somehow just confessed that she was in love with her. The reporter wasn't going to take the time or the brain cells to analyze that. She was tired of fighting her attraction, tired of wondering what Jill's skin felt like, what her lips would taste like. There were only inches separating them, and suddenly it just seemed too far away.
The kiss started gentle but didn't stay that way. Neither woman had the patience right now for slow and languorous. Cindy reached up and laced her fingers through Jill's hair, pulling her head down and her body closer.
It took the attorney a moment to absorb the fact that Cindy was kissing her. Kissing the hell out of her actually. She had a moment of pure joy, before all thought went stampeding south once again.
Jill's arms went around the smaller redhead, wrapping around her waist and pulling her even closer. She gasped as Cindy's breasts pressed into her own. Her hands smoothed down the soft cotton covering the petite reporter, and it was only then that Jill realized that Cindy was wearing nothing under the oversized shirt. Nada. Zip.
Her fingers trailed over skin so soft that the phrase baby's behind finally had a point of reference for the blonde. Jill squeezed each globe and was rewarded with a sharp gasp. The taller woman reversed their positions in a heartbeat, unconsciously mirroring Cindy's fantasy by pinning her up against the apartment door. With her arms above her head Cindy's shirt rose to the level of blatant scandal, revealing that she was indeed a natural redhead.
Jill's lips traveled away from tempting lips to follow the curve of Cindy's neck. Goosebumps rose marking the path she'd taken. When her hands slowly slid down Cindy's arms to cup and caress the reporter's breasts both women groaned.
It was Jill pinching Cindy's nipple that finally pushed them into finding a more suitable location. The redhead pushed Jill back far enough to walk past her, grabbing the other woman's hand and dragging her to Lindsay's bedroom. Jill's jacket and skirt were on the floor before the attorney had a chance to even attempt undressing herself. In thirty seconds she was down to her bra and panties, and Cindy showed no signs of stopping there.
Cindy brought their lips back together, working the few buttons holding her shirt together free before wrapping her arms around the blonde's back and unhooking her bra. The bit of black lace was tossed aside, and their naked breasts met for the first time.
Jill literally felt her heart stop beating for a moment. "God Cindy. Oh my God." She couldn't form any other words. The edge of the bed came up to meet the back of Jill's legs and then she was lying flat. Cindy's fingers skimmed over the front of Jill's panties, then her thumbs were easing them down pale legs.
Cindy couldn't believe that Jill Bernhardt was lying naked before her. Hers for the taking. On Lindsay Boxer's bed. Life was indeed sweet. She let her shirt slide from her shoulders and relished the perceptible widening of Jill's eyes.
She slipped one leg between Jill's as she knelt on the bed. She wanted to tease for just a moment, hover above the blonde before bringing their bodies back in contact. Jill was having no part of that. The taller woman reached up and pulled Cindy against her hard. Jill was so wet that Cindy's thigh was immediately covered.
As turned on as Jill was, as much as she wanted to come, she needed to touch Cindy first. Her hands caressed Cindy's ass, drawing another groan from the woman, before positioning her legs so that Cindy straddled her. When Cindy instantaneously began grinding against her, Jill thought she might come right there. She found the where with all to pull her body into a sitting position.
Their lips broke apart as Cindy pulled back enough to give Jill a questioning look. Jill took advantage of the reporter's momentary lapse to scoot closer to the edge of the bed. This put Jill on the edge of the bed, sitting up with Cindy facing her, straddling her lap. Jill's hands drifted down Cindy's ass until she reached the dripping wet curls beneath. She waited until the other woman met her eyes before slowly and firmly sliding one finger into Cindy.
Cindy's hands clenched on Jill's shoulders as the blonde set a steady rhythm. One finger became two, and Cindy knew that she was going to come at any second. "Oh my God… Jill!"
This time when Cindy came screaming Jill's name, the blonde was there to capture Cindy's lips a second later. She was falling back to the mattress, her arms refusing to let go of the shuddering reporter.
If Lindsay had been surprised by how clean her apartment had been when she returned, she didn't say anything. The new sheets on her bed did earn a phone call to Cindy, who didn't answer. When Lindsay mentioned it to Claire, the medical examiner burst out laughing. Jill was finally the one who cleared things up for the inspector.
"It's a house warming present."
"I've lived in that apartment for ten years."
Jill nodded, smiled, and walked away. Later that night, snuggled in Cindy's arms, on Lindsay's former sheets, in their now shared apartment Jill agreed that Lindsay's home had certainly been warmed up while she was gone.