Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: All your Angel are belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Summary: A:tS finale fic. Angel-- and Lorne-- gave up on a certain ex-lawyer a little too quickly. 800 words.
Spoilers: Angel 5.22 "Not Fade Away" (Series Finale). Begins in medias res.
Notes: This has been languishing on my computer for a year or so now. I'd love to continue it, but I don't know Lindsey very well; I missed a lot of his early episodes, and I have a lot of other writing committments. At this point, I'm going to have to just call it good and post.
"Everything I've ever cared about, everything I've worked for, it's all been in preparation for a future that no longer exists. I know you always thought I took the competition too seriously. You were right. It was all for nothing."
--Laura Chapman, "The Day After Tomorrow"
"You don't trust me," Lindsey said, half-amused, half-annoyed at the disgust in the demon's tone of voice as they bantered back and forth. "You don't think a man can change?"
"It's not about what I think," Lorne answered, a grim look on his green face. "This was Angel's plan."
So it was, Lindsey thought, and the amusement began to win out over the annoyance. It wasn't like Angel had room to throw stones-- he'd killed Drogyn in cold blood just the day before, for Heaven's sake-- and if Angel accepted him, it didn't really matter what the others thought.
"Come on," he said, with a smile. "I could sing for you."
As long as Lorne was only checking to be sure he wouldn't betray the team, there wouldn't be anything in his voice to give the anagogic demon any nightmares. And why should there be? If they won, Lindsey would own Wolfram & Hart; that was all he'd wanted, from the moment he'd stuck his foot back in the door as 'Doyle'. Well, that and a little humiliation for the Eurotrash vampire who'd taken everything he'd worked so hard for... but Angel had ruined his own reputation as a do-gooder more thoroughly than Lindsey ever could have in the run up to tonight's events. If he survived at all, he'd have to live with the fallout. It might be kind of fun to watch that happen.
Lorne didn't smile back. "I've heard you sing," he said dismissively, and reached into his pocket.
Lindsey'd been half-expecting to face projectile weaponry at some point during the evening. This was Los Angeles, after all, and who knew what tech Wolfram & Hart might have supplied to the Circle? The appearance of a gun in Lorne's hand, however, came as such a surprise that he didn't even register he'd been shot until he stumbled backward, knocked off balance by the force of the impacts.
He glanced down at the twin holes in his shirt, wincing as the pain began to register with his nervous system, and then looked back up at his attacker with a stunned expression on his face. What the hell? "Why... Why did you..."
"One last job," Lorne explained, with something like pity in his eyes. "You're not part of the solution, Lindsey. You never will be."
Not part of...? Then what had that song and dance with Angel been all about? the lawyer wondered, feeling betrayed. All this time, all those speeches about honor and humanity and absolute good, and Angel chose now to change his tune? This wasn't the way it was supposed to go, damn it. What happened to playing fair?
Ah, hell. He should have known Angel was just blowing smoke up his ass about the firm. Eve was right; Angel didn't trust him. Still, to lie outright like that? And more, to send Lorne instead of taking care of things himself? Insult added to injury.
"You kill me?" Lindsey objected aloud, pointing at the Pylean.
Wounded muscles spasmed in his chest at the movement; Lindsey collapsed against the wall and sagged to the floor, breathing heavily as the pain increased in magnitude. His left arm caught on a piece of fallen furniture, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to untangle himself from it. Black curtains of oblivion were drawing in around the edges of his consciousness, and he could not help but fight them instinctively even though knew it would gain him nothing to resist. He hadn't been suicidal-- he'd come into this battle prepared for whatever might come at him-- but even so, the spells he'd used for defense hadn't been intended for quite this level of punishment. It would be hours before he could recover enough to wake and walk out of here. More than enough time for his supposed back-up to realize the bullets hadn't done the job, and finish him.
"A flunky!" he continued, gasping. "I'm not just... Angel... kills me. You don't... Angel... "
Lorne's expression didn't change, nor did the hand holding the gun waver.
Lindsey's heart sank as he realized there was nothing he could say or do to prevent what would come next. The shocked anger that had kept him going since the shots were fired faded into a sort of frozen numbness, draining what little strength he had left. He slumped, letting his body go limp, anticipating the final blow. How could it all end like this?
The sound of a sigh broke the ensuing silence in the room. "Good night, folks," Lorne announced solemnly, dropping the gun to the floor with a loud thunk. And then he left.
I don't fucking believe it, Lindsay thought dully as he slipped toward unconsciousness. He didn't kill me, after all.
Boy, are they going to regret it.