No Judgement
Summary: Cindy had known for years, the truth of her parents.
Cindy Sheffield had been about thirteen when she discovered the truth. She'd been heading to her room when she'd heard them talking in hushed whispers to one another. She knew that she shouldn't have been spying, that she should've just went back to her room. Instead, her curiousity had gotten the best of her-there had always been so many secrets surrounding her family that she just couldn't help it.
She'd leaned flat against the wall, listening as her mom and dad talked about an attic and the terror of being locked in it for three years by their mother and grandmother. Two people they should've been able to trust. She heard talk of Carrie and Cory, their younger siblings. And of the woman and her butler who used to live in the house next door. By the time her parents had stopped talking, Cindy was in shock. She knew everything now. What her parents never wanted to tell her. What her brother, Jory's grandmother always seemed so disgusted by when she'd visit.
But...Cindy didn't think less of them after that. She didn't see them differently. They were the caring people who had taken in when her biological mom had died. They had loved and cared for her for all of these years. So why should her opinion change of them, now that she knew their secret? It shouldn't. Slowly, she pulled away from the wall and tiptoed to her room, the things she heard swimming through her mind. If anything, she was proud of her parents. Proud of how strong they must've been-must be to get through all of that and survive.
The next morning, she hugged her parents extra tight before she hurried off to school. She just wanted them to know in some way, how much she loved them.
It was some years later, right after the death of their father and after she and Bart had given into their feelings that he asked her a question.
"So how long have you known about mom and Chris?" He questioned curiously, arms wrapped around her as they laid on the couch of Foxworth Hall. Jory, Toni, the twins, and their mother all asleep upstairs.
She smiled, laced their hands together and raised her head to meet his eyes. "Since I was thirteen. I overheard them talking about the attic and everything. I just never said anything, figuring they'd tell me when they were ready. Even if I tried to get them to tell me in my own obscure way. "
Bart thought of how he'd treated his parents when he'd found out, guilt clenching at his heart. "Well, you handled it much better than I did."
Cindy bit her bottom lip determinedly, turning in his arms to press her lips to his gently. "I didn't have someone in my head, telling me how wrong they were, either and manipulating me." She was speaking both of the ghost of Malcolm and of John Amos, knowing how they'd both had a bad affect on Bart, especially with his schizophrenia. "Besides, they loved each other. They still love each other. How can it be wrong?"
He said nothing, just took in her words and nodded before pressing his lips to her's in a more intimate kiss, no longer afraid of how he felt about her. She was right. How could love be wrong?
End