Writing Exercise: Angel, Lindsey/Eve, PG-13, The son of rage and love
Friday -- 23 February 2007
Tool: Lindsey McDonald
Type: Psychological Fic
Prompt:
Set after he left LA and before he comes back (with Eve) with flashbacks to childhood
~*~
"Lindsey baby, come on inside now." The storm raged around the small boy. He was ten, but most would have guessed his age as much younger, perhaps six or seven. His mama blamed herself. If only she'd managed to do better while she was pregnant or put better food on the table now, well he might be an average size. Her boy was smart though, too smart by half. "Get inside, child. You'll catch your death." She called for him again. Something, something in him had always responded to the wildness of a storm. He came inside dripping wet.
"Is Daddy comin' home tonight?" He asked.
She smiled at him, but it was hollow. He could see through it, but though she knew this, she never failed to smile. "Not tonight, baby, but soon."
~*~
The tall man leaning in Lindsey's doorway looked deceptively simple. He was dressed in the same cool summer suits that dominated law offices in the south, and his accent was thick as honey. "Your contract was never officially terminated, Mr. McDonald. What do you think we should do about that."
Lindsey sat behind a wide oak desk. He'd hoped they wouldn't bother to follow him here. It wasn't as if he was actively working against their interests, taking small time, small town cases for little or nothing. He wasn't crusading against corporate greed or prosecuting, just easing his soul a bit by defending poor suckers who couldn't afford anyone else. "I was rather hoping you'd just let it slide." He's surprised that he can keep his voice this calm. He's dealt with Wolfram & Hart for long enough to know that the man standing in his tiny office is much more than a simple country lawyer.
"'Fraid we can't do that, son. Your word is your bond, and you owe us, well you owe us your mortality and beyond."
Fortunately it seemed that they might have underestimated him as well. Their emissary was standing in the doorway because he couldn't pass the protective runes carved on the inside of the frame. They both knew it, but Lindsey also knew that the man could likely out wait him and he couldn't spend the rest of his life in this room. He sighed and stood. He'd abandoned the thousand dollar suits when he'd left town, but he still couldn't quite bring himself to dress like a home town boy, even if that was what he is. He brushes lint off of dark slacks and runs a hand through his hair as he comes around the desk to lean on it. "Not sure you're going to have much of a choice in the matter, at least not while I'm alive." He hadn't wanted to do this, but Lindsey was nothing if not well-prepared.
~*~
At fourteen, Lindsey was gawky. He was still small for his age, and yet his arms and legs seemed long, all out of proportion to his body. He spent most of his time in his upstairs bedroom, reading. It was easier than being downstairs with his parents who could be trusted for only two things, fighting or fucking. Somehow he'd thought things would be better when daddy came home, but they'd been worse. At least when he was mostly gone each homecoming was a joyous occasion that lasted a week or more. Sure it degenerated into screaming and on a rare occasion throwing things and hitting, but that stage was short followed by another long absence. Now it was relentless. Fight for days then fuck then fight again. And it wasn't as if he had any friends. His classmates thought he was a freak, small and more interested in his books than football or girls.
Lindsey had a plan though. In the six months that his momma had let him go to boy scouts he'd learned one thing, the maxim, be prepared. Lindsey was always prepared. He'd researched colleges, the ones he actually had some hope of paying for. State had a good pre-law program. He just had four years to prepare, to earn scholarships and impress instructors. And he hadn't stopped there, he knew a handful of schools that he wanted to get into for law school. He'd gotten ahold of their applications so that he could get a head start on his essays. By the time he graduated in seven or eight years they would be polished to a high sheen. Lindsey was prepared.
~*~
"I think you'll find..." Before the man could finish his words, Lindsey had pressed a few recessed symbols on his desk activating a spell that would temporarily bind most anything.
After the bright flash of the magic, the man was still leaning in his door frame. At first glance it appeared that he was still casually resting there, only the half-formed words on his lips belied this fact. Lindsey took a few small items off of the desktop, shoving them in pockets and slipped around the tall man. "Don't look for me, you won't find me."
He'd had a contingency plan since before he made the final decision to leave. His years at Wolfram & Hart hadn't been wasted. He'd learned more magic than most trained wizards and more importantly he had learned where to look for answers. As he rounded the corner he slammed what looked like a decorative glass paperweight against the brick wall. It shattered under his hand, small shards cutting into his palm, his blood mingling with the items inside. It was a spell of sorts, a shortcut really. It would render him untraceable for the next hour. By that time, he should be far enough away, that it would take some time to find him again. And Lindsey, as always, had a plan to make this permanent before that happened.
~*~
"I'm sorry we can't take you to school ourselves, baby. Your daddy just doesn't understand. You're gonna make something of yourself, more than your daddy and I ever could." Lindsey's momma was standing at his side, reluctant to let him get on a bus that she just knew would take him away from her forever, yet wanting him to have all the things in life that she had never been able to give him. "I love ya, baby."
Lindsey smiled and gathered his mother close. For all of his disappointment in her, and his near hatred for his father, he loved his mother. "I know you do, momma." He tried to ignore the smell of stale alcohol on her blouse and staler cigarettes on her breath; just as he'd tried to ignore the sound of shattering glass as his father threw things the night before, all the time raging about how no son of his was going to be all gentrified and how factory work had been good enough for him, it should be good enough for his boy as well. He'd ignored it, knowing that it would never be good enough for him. For as long as he could remember the only thing he'd wanted was to be free of this life, poor kid in a poor little country town. He was meant for so much more.
~*~
"You understand that this will be permanent?" He'd made it to New Orleans before he knew that he had to stop and take further precautions. He was grateful he'd made it this far. There were few better places to find the things he needed.
Here in this seedy little shop that he'd recognized from the runes carved in the doorway, he'd found the first step. "I understand. I'm counting on it, actually."
A tall man whose African heritage was clear in the rich coffee color of his skin and whose cajun heritage was even clearer in the soft and gentle cadence of his heavily accented voice stepped closer. "And the matter of payment?"
Lindsey laughed. "Believe me when I tell you that won't be an issue." He drew the remaining items from his desk out of the pocket of the worn jeans he was now wearing. "They're genuine."
The man took one look at the two small blue stones and the tiny cat figurine and nodded. "It will be enough." He gestured for Lindsey to lie on the table. "For this to work correctly you must concentrate on the essence of who you are for the duration. Who are you?"
Lindsey had thought about this for weeks and found no good answer, so he was more than a little surprised when this one sprang from his lips. "I am the son of rage and love," but he knew it for truth even before the words were finished.
"Remember it, hold it within you until I am finished." The man waited patiently for Lindsey to disrobe and lie facedown on the table. Once he was there, no time was wasted. The tatoo ink was being etched on his skin in a matter of seconds, all the while words that bound the ink and the symbols it formed to his very soul. When the work was completed a good dozen of the most powerful spells for hiding things would be etched upon his body. Not even this man would be able to find him after.
~*~
"We're very impressed by your drive, Mr. McDonald, by your need to prove that you're better than where you come from."
Lindsey was flattered by the sheer number of firms that had wanted to speak with him. He'd known that his grades and journal articles would bring offers, he hadn't been prepared for the scope of them. He had nearly made up his mind to turn his focus to contract law with the powerful firm, Gage-Whitney, when he received this invitation. It had been simple, a time and a room number at the hotel where all of these interviews were taking place on corporate letterhead. He might have skipped it entirely. He hadn't ever heard of the firm, Wolfram & Hart, but they had to be more important than they seemed at first glance. After all the letterhead listed them as having offices in LA, New York, London, Paris, Rome, Hong Kong, Cairo, and Tokyo. The paper was high quality, and the list of cities impressive so here he was. "Thank you, sir." Lindsey said. There were two men in the room when he came. One had yet to speak. He was an old man in a dark suit with a dour expression. So far his interviewer had been the only slightly younger Holland Manners. "I'm sorry, but what kind of law would I be practicing?"
Mr. Manners laughed. "A little of this and a little of that. I'm not surprised you aren't aware of our firm. We have a very select clientele and discretion is one of the services we offer. The LA office, which is where we'll be asking you to join us, takes two new talents a year. We've already selected a young woman from Princeton, Ms. Lilah Morgan. You are our second choice."
Lindsey's ears perked up. He'd expected the offer to be for the New York offices, and while the city was impressive he had always wanted to go to the West Coast. Los Angeles, the city of Angels, what better place could there be. "When you say I'm your second choice?"
Manners smiled broadly. "Not second to Ms. Morgan. We have pored over the records of thousands of third year students in the last six months. The two of you were chosen. If you choose not to take our offer, Ms. Morgan will be our only new attorney this year. Now, should we talk about the compensation we're offering?"
(This really needs to be stronger)
~*~
"I know we just met, but I think I'm in love with you." Lindsey has never said those words before because he's never felt this way before.
Eve's hand gently traced the tatoos that peeked out from under his collar. "Who are you?" She asked.
If the question had been demanding in any way, Lindsey would have walked. He felt something for this girl, something special, but he would not jeopardize himself for her. It didn't. It was a gentle inquiry, a whispered prayer. He answered in the only way he could for the woman he loved. "I am the son of rage and love."
He'd expected, perhaps a bit of confusion, maybe a bit of instinctive understanding. He hadn't expected the shock in her eyes, chased out by horror as her hands dropped back to her side. He reached for her and she allowed him to draw her to his chest, but she had found her voice now. "No. Damn it, no."
"What is it, Eve?" He asked as he kissed her temple.
She looked at him and now there was a look of determination that he wished he couldn't see the terror beneath. "Lindsey McDonald, I've been looking for you for nearly a year."
Understanding crashed down around him. "They sent you, Wolfram & Hart."
She nods, "I'll go away. I'll tell them I couldn't find you." She's crying now, but it's soft. "I won't let them have you."
"No. Well, okay, so yes, but we'll both go back. I'm tired of hiding, and I'm not going to lose you to them. It's time to take the fight home." Funny that he still thought of LA as home. "We need a plan."
Tool: Lindsey McDonald
Type: Psychological Fic
Prompt:
Set after he left LA and before he comes back (with Eve) with flashbacks to childhood
~*~
"Lindsey baby, come on inside now." The storm raged around the small boy. He was ten, but most would have guessed his age as much younger, perhaps six or seven. His mama blamed herself. If only she'd managed to do better while she was pregnant or put better food on the table now, well he might be an average size. Her boy was smart though, too smart by half. "Get inside, child. You'll catch your death." She called for him again. Something, something in him had always responded to the wildness of a storm. He came inside dripping wet.
"Is Daddy comin' home tonight?" He asked.
She smiled at him, but it was hollow. He could see through it, but though she knew this, she never failed to smile. "Not tonight, baby, but soon."
~*~
The tall man leaning in Lindsey's doorway looked deceptively simple. He was dressed in the same cool summer suits that dominated law offices in the south, and his accent was thick as honey. "Your contract was never officially terminated, Mr. McDonald. What do you think we should do about that."
Lindsey sat behind a wide oak desk. He'd hoped they wouldn't bother to follow him here. It wasn't as if he was actively working against their interests, taking small time, small town cases for little or nothing. He wasn't crusading against corporate greed or prosecuting, just easing his soul a bit by defending poor suckers who couldn't afford anyone else. "I was rather hoping you'd just let it slide." He's surprised that he can keep his voice this calm. He's dealt with Wolfram & Hart for long enough to know that the man standing in his tiny office is much more than a simple country lawyer.
"'Fraid we can't do that, son. Your word is your bond, and you owe us, well you owe us your mortality and beyond."
Fortunately it seemed that they might have underestimated him as well. Their emissary was standing in the doorway because he couldn't pass the protective runes carved on the inside of the frame. They both knew it, but Lindsey also knew that the man could likely out wait him and he couldn't spend the rest of his life in this room. He sighed and stood. He'd abandoned the thousand dollar suits when he'd left town, but he still couldn't quite bring himself to dress like a home town boy, even if that was what he is. He brushes lint off of dark slacks and runs a hand through his hair as he comes around the desk to lean on it. "Not sure you're going to have much of a choice in the matter, at least not while I'm alive." He hadn't wanted to do this, but Lindsey was nothing if not well-prepared.
~*~
At fourteen, Lindsey was gawky. He was still small for his age, and yet his arms and legs seemed long, all out of proportion to his body. He spent most of his time in his upstairs bedroom, reading. It was easier than being downstairs with his parents who could be trusted for only two things, fighting or fucking. Somehow he'd thought things would be better when daddy came home, but they'd been worse. At least when he was mostly gone each homecoming was a joyous occasion that lasted a week or more. Sure it degenerated into screaming and on a rare occasion throwing things and hitting, but that stage was short followed by another long absence. Now it was relentless. Fight for days then fuck then fight again. And it wasn't as if he had any friends. His classmates thought he was a freak, small and more interested in his books than football or girls.
Lindsey had a plan though. In the six months that his momma had let him go to boy scouts he'd learned one thing, the maxim, be prepared. Lindsey was always prepared. He'd researched colleges, the ones he actually had some hope of paying for. State had a good pre-law program. He just had four years to prepare, to earn scholarships and impress instructors. And he hadn't stopped there, he knew a handful of schools that he wanted to get into for law school. He'd gotten ahold of their applications so that he could get a head start on his essays. By the time he graduated in seven or eight years they would be polished to a high sheen. Lindsey was prepared.
~*~
"I think you'll find..." Before the man could finish his words, Lindsey had pressed a few recessed symbols on his desk activating a spell that would temporarily bind most anything.
After the bright flash of the magic, the man was still leaning in his door frame. At first glance it appeared that he was still casually resting there, only the half-formed words on his lips belied this fact. Lindsey took a few small items off of the desktop, shoving them in pockets and slipped around the tall man. "Don't look for me, you won't find me."
He'd had a contingency plan since before he made the final decision to leave. His years at Wolfram & Hart hadn't been wasted. He'd learned more magic than most trained wizards and more importantly he had learned where to look for answers. As he rounded the corner he slammed what looked like a decorative glass paperweight against the brick wall. It shattered under his hand, small shards cutting into his palm, his blood mingling with the items inside. It was a spell of sorts, a shortcut really. It would render him untraceable for the next hour. By that time, he should be far enough away, that it would take some time to find him again. And Lindsey, as always, had a plan to make this permanent before that happened.
~*~
"I'm sorry we can't take you to school ourselves, baby. Your daddy just doesn't understand. You're gonna make something of yourself, more than your daddy and I ever could." Lindsey's momma was standing at his side, reluctant to let him get on a bus that she just knew would take him away from her forever, yet wanting him to have all the things in life that she had never been able to give him. "I love ya, baby."
Lindsey smiled and gathered his mother close. For all of his disappointment in her, and his near hatred for his father, he loved his mother. "I know you do, momma." He tried to ignore the smell of stale alcohol on her blouse and staler cigarettes on her breath; just as he'd tried to ignore the sound of shattering glass as his father threw things the night before, all the time raging about how no son of his was going to be all gentrified and how factory work had been good enough for him, it should be good enough for his boy as well. He'd ignored it, knowing that it would never be good enough for him. For as long as he could remember the only thing he'd wanted was to be free of this life, poor kid in a poor little country town. He was meant for so much more.
~*~
"You understand that this will be permanent?" He'd made it to New Orleans before he knew that he had to stop and take further precautions. He was grateful he'd made it this far. There were few better places to find the things he needed.
Here in this seedy little shop that he'd recognized from the runes carved in the doorway, he'd found the first step. "I understand. I'm counting on it, actually."
A tall man whose African heritage was clear in the rich coffee color of his skin and whose cajun heritage was even clearer in the soft and gentle cadence of his heavily accented voice stepped closer. "And the matter of payment?"
Lindsey laughed. "Believe me when I tell you that won't be an issue." He drew the remaining items from his desk out of the pocket of the worn jeans he was now wearing. "They're genuine."
The man took one look at the two small blue stones and the tiny cat figurine and nodded. "It will be enough." He gestured for Lindsey to lie on the table. "For this to work correctly you must concentrate on the essence of who you are for the duration. Who are you?"
Lindsey had thought about this for weeks and found no good answer, so he was more than a little surprised when this one sprang from his lips. "I am the son of rage and love," but he knew it for truth even before the words were finished.
"Remember it, hold it within you until I am finished." The man waited patiently for Lindsey to disrobe and lie facedown on the table. Once he was there, no time was wasted. The tatoo ink was being etched on his skin in a matter of seconds, all the while words that bound the ink and the symbols it formed to his very soul. When the work was completed a good dozen of the most powerful spells for hiding things would be etched upon his body. Not even this man would be able to find him after.
~*~
"We're very impressed by your drive, Mr. McDonald, by your need to prove that you're better than where you come from."
Lindsey was flattered by the sheer number of firms that had wanted to speak with him. He'd known that his grades and journal articles would bring offers, he hadn't been prepared for the scope of them. He had nearly made up his mind to turn his focus to contract law with the powerful firm, Gage-Whitney, when he received this invitation. It had been simple, a time and a room number at the hotel where all of these interviews were taking place on corporate letterhead. He might have skipped it entirely. He hadn't ever heard of the firm, Wolfram & Hart, but they had to be more important than they seemed at first glance. After all the letterhead listed them as having offices in LA, New York, London, Paris, Rome, Hong Kong, Cairo, and Tokyo. The paper was high quality, and the list of cities impressive so here he was. "Thank you, sir." Lindsey said. There were two men in the room when he came. One had yet to speak. He was an old man in a dark suit with a dour expression. So far his interviewer had been the only slightly younger Holland Manners. "I'm sorry, but what kind of law would I be practicing?"
Mr. Manners laughed. "A little of this and a little of that. I'm not surprised you aren't aware of our firm. We have a very select clientele and discretion is one of the services we offer. The LA office, which is where we'll be asking you to join us, takes two new talents a year. We've already selected a young woman from Princeton, Ms. Lilah Morgan. You are our second choice."
Lindsey's ears perked up. He'd expected the offer to be for the New York offices, and while the city was impressive he had always wanted to go to the West Coast. Los Angeles, the city of Angels, what better place could there be. "When you say I'm your second choice?"
Manners smiled broadly. "Not second to Ms. Morgan. We have pored over the records of thousands of third year students in the last six months. The two of you were chosen. If you choose not to take our offer, Ms. Morgan will be our only new attorney this year. Now, should we talk about the compensation we're offering?"
(This really needs to be stronger)
~*~
"I know we just met, but I think I'm in love with you." Lindsey has never said those words before because he's never felt this way before.
Eve's hand gently traced the tatoos that peeked out from under his collar. "Who are you?" She asked.
If the question had been demanding in any way, Lindsey would have walked. He felt something for this girl, something special, but he would not jeopardize himself for her. It didn't. It was a gentle inquiry, a whispered prayer. He answered in the only way he could for the woman he loved. "I am the son of rage and love."
He'd expected, perhaps a bit of confusion, maybe a bit of instinctive understanding. He hadn't expected the shock in her eyes, chased out by horror as her hands dropped back to her side. He reached for her and she allowed him to draw her to his chest, but she had found her voice now. "No. Damn it, no."
"What is it, Eve?" He asked as he kissed her temple.
She looked at him and now there was a look of determination that he wished he couldn't see the terror beneath. "Lindsey McDonald, I've been looking for you for nearly a year."
Understanding crashed down around him. "They sent you, Wolfram & Hart."
She nods, "I'll go away. I'll tell them I couldn't find you." She's crying now, but it's soft. "I won't let them have you."
"No. Well, okay, so yes, but we'll both go back. I'm tired of hiding, and I'm not going to lose you to them. It's time to take the fight home." Funny that he still thought of LA as home. "We need a plan."