DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, or the characters. Continuing because a few people wanted me to and my brain decided there was more to the story. This one is a bit longer but still not very long. I really can't say chapter length will be very consistant. If anyone has suggestions please go ahead and let me know!

Coffee.

It was one of few things the two of them outwardly in common. Cindy was a short, red-headed reporter who could talk her way out of almost any situation, and lacked the ability to pay attention to the rules. Lindsay was a tall, dark-haired, hardened inspector with instincts that could crack any case or any person she chose to interrogate.

But they both really liked coffee.

By the time they got to the diner, it was raining and almost ten. Lindsay had wanted to go back to headquarters and finish the paperwork first, but Cindy reminded her exactly what the point of coffee was.

Besides, who said it couldn't wait until morning if they never made it back?

Cindy consciously decided to keep that thought inside her mind. She really didn't want another wound to nurse, whether it ended up internal or external.

But maybe Lindsay would help her take care of it.

She berated herself again for even thinking it. This was starting to become a bit of an issue.

When she looked back up Lindsay was looking at her strangely. Again. Shit.

"Did I say something weird by accident again?" Cindy asked warily.

Lindsay chuckled at her friend's obvious discomfort. "No, but you did miss the waitress while you were off in your happy place. I ordered you your usual."

Momentary relief, only to be followed by dread as Lindsay gave her what the club had always called laser vision. Lindsay wanted to know what Cindy had been thinking about.

Shit.

Cindy became suddenly very interested in the patterns on the table they sat at, practically squirming under Lindsay's eyes. Her mind became focused only on one thing. 'Don't tell. Don't tell. Cindy, if you tell her you will regret it. Just wait until she gives up. She has to some time. Don't tell. Don't tell.'

This plan was working pretty well until Cindy chanced a glance back into Lindsay's laser vision. With that Cindy didn't have to say a word; her eyes betrayed her.

Lindsay read the message easily, she'd had enough practice with Cindy to know exactly what that look meant.

Cindy may have panicked a little bit.

She quickly pulled out her wallet and put down a ten, then stood up to leave while very quickly trying to make up some sort of excuse as to why she had to leave.

"I… have to go home and um, finish the story for this case. I'll never finish it by tomorrow if I don't go now, I just realized."

"Cindy."

"What?" Cindy was feeling very flustered at the moment. 'I wish she would just let me leave. This is humiliating' she thought.

"Stay."

"I really can't. I'm just going to go home. Don't worry about it. Have your coffee." Freedom! Cindy moved towards the door as fast as her legs could bring her without looking like she was trying to get away as fast as possible… even if she was.

"I drove you here."

Damn.

"I'll walk."

"It's raining.

"I'll run!"

"In those heels? And don't even try to tell me you'll go barefoot."

"I'll take a cab."

"At this hour? Cindy just let me give you a ride if you won't stay."

Cindy's mind raced as Lindsay got up and let the waitress know they didn't need their coffee and to keep it for herself.

The waitress looked confused but put one freshly brewed mug back on the counter and sipped what would have been Cindy's, eyeing the pair with intrigue.

Lindsay took the elbow of the now petrified form of Cindy in her hand and led her to the car. Cindy got in without a word and hoped that this would be as quick and painless as possible.

Lindsay got in and started off towards Cindy's apartment. How would Claire tell her to handle this situation? Lindsay considered calling her right then, but noted that it was now sometime past ten and Claire would not be a happy mom if her kids were woken up for something as trivial as inter-club relations.

But there was another question. Was this really trivial at all?

Lindsay vowed to go to Claire for advice in the morning and hope for now that by the time they reached Cindy's apartment they both would have calmed down enough to talk before Cindy tried to run home again.

No such luck. Lindsay pulled up in front of the building and before she could even finish saying Cindy's name the young reporter had mumbled a 'thanks' and was dashing through the rain towards the cover of the building.

Damn, tomorrow it is. For now, paperwork called her. At least this would give a chance for her to think things over, too… How trivial was this, really?