Here comes an opening,
She's got a broken wing,
If you can feel the sting.
I think I came to a very important realization this morning, and that realization is that Lindsay Boxer may not be alright. We told her we would be there for her with this whole Kiss-Me-Not thing, and she said she agreed to let us be there, but so far, nothing. There is a certain pain in her eyes, but I don't think anyone picks up on it. We are scared for her. Jill and Claire know better than to let the woman in question know this, but I just can't keep my mouth shut. I make my way towards her and lean on the edge of her desk. She looks up at me, and I see that forced smile on her face.
Take care of everything,
She can make a scene,
I'll show you what I mean.
I look up and see the one and only Cindy Thomas at my desk. Again. The whole room is going to think something inappropriate is going on if she doesn't stop showing up. I throw on my smile, and watch her for a moment. She seems to be thinking before she speaks, and it is taking effort to not actually smile at her. She wants to ask me something that she knows she shouldn't ask, and she is waging a battle with herself for the outcome of to ask or not to. After another long, silent moment, she sighs. "Please don't get mad at me for this," she whispers. "But I want to know if you are okay?" The smile leaves my face and I get up, walking away, knowing she will follow. Once out of earshot of the squad, I turn to her.
"What do you mean by am I okay?" I asked, looking at her.
She pack a loaded gun,
Set fire to anyone,
Knows how to make 'em run.
Maybe it wasn't so smart to ask her that. I don't think it angered her, but it did trigger some reaction. A reaction that under normal circumstances may have gotten cuffs slapped on me, again. She was staring at me, with the laser vision, waiting for my answer. I made a silent vow to keep my mouth shut. Now if I could get the message to me feet to just walk away, things would be just fine. "I'm worried about you." I blurt. Great. So much for the mouth shut idea. She closes her eyes for a moment, and I can almost feel those handcuffs. She opens her eyes and I think I actually stop breathing.
"Well, don't be."
She's down on Sixth Street,
She's going sixty,
She'll show you how to breathe…
I almost regret my answer with the look on her face. "Why not? Friends are supposed to care about each other, they are allowed to worry when one of them.."
"One of them what? Has a threat on her life from the killer who had a hand in ruining her marriage?"
"Well.." She stammered. "Yes."
I look at her carefully. She actually is worried. Her face has that look on it. The one that tells me even if I tell her not to worry, she will. She always will. She doesn't know how to not worry. That may be the death of the poor girl someday. I take a few steadying breaths. "Fine. Worry. But do not expect me to show up on your doorstep needing to vent." She gives me a small smile and walks away.