Drabbles: Four Lindsey Drabbles--Gen, PG
And this should finish up my whedonland Big Bang! Here are four longer drabbles.
Hands (277 words) - For a while after Angel cut off his hand, Lindsey would randomly forget it was gone. He would reach up to brush a stray hair out of his eyes, and instead of the glancing touch of warm flesh, he’d inevitably smack himself in the temple with that unsightly plastic hand.
The first couple of times it happened, he’d cussed up a storm and had silently plotted Angel’s demise for the hundredth time. But now, sitting here in his office working through the night on a case, all he could do was burst out laughing, even as he massaged his aching head with his remaining hand. As the absurdity of the situation penetrated his skull, Lindsey quite literally doubled over, breathless from laughter.
After the fit of giggles began to subside, he laid both his hands, side by side on the desk. Rapping against smooth surface with his prosthetic hand, Lindsey said out loud, “Plastic.” Then knocking with his flesh-and-blood hand, he said, “Real. Plastic. Real.” He stared at both his hands trying to will the information to sink into his mind. He couldn’t figure out why his plastic hand kept slipping his mind. It’s not like anyone else at the firm ever seemed to forget.
Lindsey touched the fingertips of his flesh hand to the plastic of his new one and let the sensation sink in. He’d never really touched it before, other than to put it on in the morning and take it off at night. It was cool and smooth and grotesque. After a moment, he tore his eyes away from it, clenched his remaining hand into a fist, and dove back into his paperwork.
Memory (199 words) - Lindsey didn’t have many things left from his childhood. The McDonald kids had never had much to begin with, and when Lindsey left home to go to school, he’d only taken a few odds and ends with him. He’d told himself that packing light made good sense. But deep down, part of him wondered if he’d left so much behind because he didn’t want evidence that that life had ever existed.
But if that was the case, he was doing a lousy job of purging the past. He had taken a handful of pictures with him, as well as his beat-up old truck and his guitar. When he dug them out to gaze at them, the pictures brought back memories, most of them painful. There were kids in those faded photographs who weren’t living anymore, and a fire burned in Lindsey’s gut whenever his eyes fell on their little faces. It was torture, but he pulled out the pictures so he wouldn’t forget his lost siblings who had died so young. And then, with respect and tenderness, he would slip the pictures back inside the small envelope where he kept them and tuck the memories into his beside drawer.
Lost (215 words) - The hotel room was dank and musty, but Lindsey had called it home for two days. When he had first climbed into his truck and left LA behind, he had mostly wandered, having no idea where he was headed or what he was going to do with himself. He’d been on the road for a month now, and he still had no clue. He knew he couldn’t go back to Wolfram and Hart, nor did he have any desire to do so. He’d left the firm-and Angel-behind, and he was determined to move on with his life.
The problem was, though, that without the firm and without Mr. Vampire with a Soul, Lindsey wasn’t sure that he had a life. Before he left, Angel had made a remark about how losing him had left Lindsey with nowhere to focus his rage. As much as it angered him, he couldn’t deny that Angel had a point. Who was he without his feud with Angel to give him purpose? Where did he belong? Perhaps he was doomed to remain lost in a haze of doubt and uncertainty. Letting out a breath, Lindsey closed his eyes and left his head sink further into the pillow. There would be time to sort himself out after he’d slept.
Wine (277 words) - Holland Manners loved his wine. Lindsey had learned that shortly after coming to Wolfram and Hart. Wine, Lindsey had discovered, was not only a mark of status to Holland. It was also a gauge of Lindsey’s own place within the firm.
When Lindsey had worked in the mailroom, he had often been charged with bringing mail up to Holland’s office. Sometimes, Holland would be inside with a client or another lawyer, and they would be toasting some victory with a bottle from Holland’s stash. Lindsey had always felt a tinge of envy for those who had warranted such an honor.
The first time Lindsey had successfully helped win a case for the firm, Holland had taken him into his office and had given him a taste of the wine he had coveted earlier. It had been warm as it had trickled down his throat, accompanied by the praise Holland had given him for his work.
The day Lindsey became a real lawyer with the firm, Holland had taken him out to celebrate. They had gone to the most mind-numbingly expensive restaurant Lindsey had ever been to, and Holland had seemed to take great pleasure in spoiling him with good food and wine.
Now, he was in Holland’s wine cellar, and people were screaming. Holland’s body was lying a few feet away where Darla had dropped him. A few feet away, Lindsey noticed a tray filled with full glasses of wine. Smiling to himself despite the grimness of the situation, Lindsey strolled over and scooped up a glass of Holland’s finest. Lazily, he sipped at the wine as he watched Darla and Drusilla carry on with their carnage.
Hands (277 words) - For a while after Angel cut off his hand, Lindsey would randomly forget it was gone. He would reach up to brush a stray hair out of his eyes, and instead of the glancing touch of warm flesh, he’d inevitably smack himself in the temple with that unsightly plastic hand.
The first couple of times it happened, he’d cussed up a storm and had silently plotted Angel’s demise for the hundredth time. But now, sitting here in his office working through the night on a case, all he could do was burst out laughing, even as he massaged his aching head with his remaining hand. As the absurdity of the situation penetrated his skull, Lindsey quite literally doubled over, breathless from laughter.
After the fit of giggles began to subside, he laid both his hands, side by side on the desk. Rapping against smooth surface with his prosthetic hand, Lindsey said out loud, “Plastic.” Then knocking with his flesh-and-blood hand, he said, “Real. Plastic. Real.” He stared at both his hands trying to will the information to sink into his mind. He couldn’t figure out why his plastic hand kept slipping his mind. It’s not like anyone else at the firm ever seemed to forget.
Lindsey touched the fingertips of his flesh hand to the plastic of his new one and let the sensation sink in. He’d never really touched it before, other than to put it on in the morning and take it off at night. It was cool and smooth and grotesque. After a moment, he tore his eyes away from it, clenched his remaining hand into a fist, and dove back into his paperwork.
Memory (199 words) - Lindsey didn’t have many things left from his childhood. The McDonald kids had never had much to begin with, and when Lindsey left home to go to school, he’d only taken a few odds and ends with him. He’d told himself that packing light made good sense. But deep down, part of him wondered if he’d left so much behind because he didn’t want evidence that that life had ever existed.
But if that was the case, he was doing a lousy job of purging the past. He had taken a handful of pictures with him, as well as his beat-up old truck and his guitar. When he dug them out to gaze at them, the pictures brought back memories, most of them painful. There were kids in those faded photographs who weren’t living anymore, and a fire burned in Lindsey’s gut whenever his eyes fell on their little faces. It was torture, but he pulled out the pictures so he wouldn’t forget his lost siblings who had died so young. And then, with respect and tenderness, he would slip the pictures back inside the small envelope where he kept them and tuck the memories into his beside drawer.
Lost (215 words) - The hotel room was dank and musty, but Lindsey had called it home for two days. When he had first climbed into his truck and left LA behind, he had mostly wandered, having no idea where he was headed or what he was going to do with himself. He’d been on the road for a month now, and he still had no clue. He knew he couldn’t go back to Wolfram and Hart, nor did he have any desire to do so. He’d left the firm-and Angel-behind, and he was determined to move on with his life.
The problem was, though, that without the firm and without Mr. Vampire with a Soul, Lindsey wasn’t sure that he had a life. Before he left, Angel had made a remark about how losing him had left Lindsey with nowhere to focus his rage. As much as it angered him, he couldn’t deny that Angel had a point. Who was he without his feud with Angel to give him purpose? Where did he belong? Perhaps he was doomed to remain lost in a haze of doubt and uncertainty. Letting out a breath, Lindsey closed his eyes and left his head sink further into the pillow. There would be time to sort himself out after he’d slept.
Wine (277 words) - Holland Manners loved his wine. Lindsey had learned that shortly after coming to Wolfram and Hart. Wine, Lindsey had discovered, was not only a mark of status to Holland. It was also a gauge of Lindsey’s own place within the firm.
When Lindsey had worked in the mailroom, he had often been charged with bringing mail up to Holland’s office. Sometimes, Holland would be inside with a client or another lawyer, and they would be toasting some victory with a bottle from Holland’s stash. Lindsey had always felt a tinge of envy for those who had warranted such an honor.
The first time Lindsey had successfully helped win a case for the firm, Holland had taken him into his office and had given him a taste of the wine he had coveted earlier. It had been warm as it had trickled down his throat, accompanied by the praise Holland had given him for his work.
The day Lindsey became a real lawyer with the firm, Holland had taken him out to celebrate. They had gone to the most mind-numbingly expensive restaurant Lindsey had ever been to, and Holland had seemed to take great pleasure in spoiling him with good food and wine.
Now, he was in Holland’s wine cellar, and people were screaming. Holland’s body was lying a few feet away where Darla had dropped him. A few feet away, Lindsey noticed a tray filled with full glasses of wine. Smiling to himself despite the grimness of the situation, Lindsey strolled over and scooped up a glass of Holland’s finest. Lazily, he sipped at the wine as he watched Darla and Drusilla carry on with their carnage.