DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. Dollhouse belongs to Joss Whedon and Fox. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Gold Dust
By Demeter
The sun is setting on the horizon when Lindsay drives home and instead of going straight home like she should, she takes the exit that leads her to the house. She parks by the curb, weighing the keys in her hands for a moment. This is not a good idea, she knows it and still she is drawn to this place irresistibly.
Unlocking the door, Lindsay knows that she is going to have to tell the truth to a no doubt furious real estate agent, but it can't be helped. She's going to share with Cindy as long as they both can't stand living alone, but this was supposed their dream home. This was it.
She walks from room to room, remembering the first times they'd been here, the very first time. When Cindy had looked at her like that, pure joy lighting up her face, it had been like all of the pieces of the strange puzzle that was Lindsay's life had finally come together. The picture just was too good to be true, she knew it now and if she was honest, she had known then but she'd let herself be swept away.
She wanted to be happy.
Lindsay walks into what was going to become the bedroom with the huge panoramic window. In the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge is a smudge on the horizon. The sunset is an unreal kind of beautiful just like that first time.
They'd wanted to see many of them from here. They'd wanted to grow old together.
She leans against the wall, sliding down slowly.
The last rays of sun seem to cast a tint of gold over the city. A delusion like everything she's lived for in those months when Cindy was gone. She should have known nothing could ever be the same. The Dollhouse destroys; its power is still unbroken.
Lindsay had thought that there'd be no more tears left, but she's been mistaken. The ghosts of her dreams embrace her once more, and the pain is almost a familiar friend.
Tomorrow, she's going to give the keys back.
The End