| Subject: What We Regain (Part 5) |
Author:
Nestra
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Date Posted: 19:49:37 11/25/02 Mon
In reply to:
Nestra
's message, "What We Regain" on 19:41:47 11/25/02 Mon
************
And if you don't expect too much from me,
You might not be let down.
-- Gin Blossoms
************
I went back to the office; unless Lilah had ransacked the place while my back was turned, all of the files on Angel's associates were sitting on a corner of my desk. I figured that any information Lilah needed, the firm had supplied her with, and she had a bad habit of forgetting stuff she didn't consider important.
Sure enough, Lilah hadn't bothered to go through the most recent surveillance reports. Since Angel had kicked them out of the Hyperion, his former coworkers had been working out of Cordelia Chase's apartment. I tried to decide whether to call them or head over there directly. My office was certainly bugged, so that was out, and I didn't want to use my private cell phone any more than I had to. With luck, anyone who trailed me to Cordelia's apartment would assume I was over there on a date, following Nathan's advice about meeting a nice girl.
Friday evening traffic had started to clear up, but the trip over still took me almost an hour. I parked up the block from her apartment and headed inside.
The door opened almost immediately after my knock, and I looked at Cordelia Chase. It took about two seconds for her to recognize me, and an extremely unpleasant expression crossed her pretty face.
"Well," she said. "If it isn't the Evil Lawyer himself. What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you," I said. "I have some information that you might want to know."
"Right," she said. Turning away from me, she yelled back into the apartment. "Hey, Wesley! Remember that guy from Wolfram and Hart who tried to blow you up and drive me insane? He wants to talk to us!"
This probably wasn't going to go well.
I heard movement from inside the apartment, and then two more people appeared at the door. I recognized them as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Charles Gunn, the other members -- former members -- of Angel's staff. Neither of them looked very friendly.
"Ah, yes," said Wesley. "Lindsey McDonald, isn't it? What an unpleasant surprise."
"I know you don't have any reason to really trust me..."
Cordelia interrupted me. "Wow. What an amazing insight you have there, Lawyer Boy. I'd say that nearly killing Wesley and trying to make me crazy with a vision overload means that we have *zero* reason to trust you."
Gunn, standing behind Cordelia and Wesley, looked harder at me. "Wait a minute. This is the guy who put you two in the hospital last year?"
I couldn't help protesting. "I wasn't directly responsible, you know. I was a little busy getting my hand cut off."
"Not directly responsible?" Cordelia's voice was cold. "So if Angel and Wesley hadn't managed to cure me, only half of the time I spent screaming in pain and trying to claw my eyes out would have been your fault."
I couldn't deny that she had a good reason to be angry. "Regardless of what's happened in the past, I'm here to warn you. Darla and Drusilla are working with Wolfram and Hart, and I have reason to believe that they and Lilah Morgan plan to send mercenaries after you."
Wesley and Gunn exchanged brief glances, having a silent conversation. "Even if we believed you," said Wesley, "we are quite capable of protecting ourselves. And knowing you, it seems far more likely that you are involved with whatever scheme Wolfram and Hart and are simply trying to trap us, somehow."
"You know, I'm risking a lot coming here. You could at least listen to what I'm trying to tell you."
Cordelia leaned forward a little. "*You* listen, buddy. I remember the last time you came around, pretending to be all reformed. And I remember that your little crisis went away as soon as Wolfram and Hart waved a promotion in front of you. You hauled ass into your new office so fast that you left skid marks. So excuse me if I have a hard time believing that you've got my best interests at heart."
I sighed. "Look. I know you don't trust me. I know you don't have any reason to. But don't be stupid just so you can take a few cheap shots at me."
"Trust you?" she scoffed. "No, I don't trust you. I also don't like you. Wesley doesn't like you. Gunn doesn't like you." I twitched as the lights in her apartment and the hallway flickered. "See?" she continued. "Dennis doesn't like you either."
"Who the hell is Dennis?"
Cordelia opened her mouth to lay into me, but Wesley interrupted her. "I think it's time you left." He didn't look all that dangerous, but the vibe he gave off made me think twice. And Gunn definitely *did* look dangerous, and pretty pissed as well. Goddamnit. They were just like Angel – completely unable to put their feelings aside and face reality.
"Fine," I snapped. "Just remember to look over your shoulder. Maybe you'll see them coming."
Gunn eased out from behind Cordelia and took a menacing step forward. "Leave. Now. And don't come back."
That seemed pretty final, and I'd run out of arguments. And energy. I'd had enough of people treating me like shit when I tried to help them. I looked at Wesley, hoping that I'd gotten through to him, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I shook my head and headed back outside.
It occurred to me that I'd spent a lot of time lately trying to do favors for completely ungrateful people. Why the hell was I wasting my time like this? I'd been mooning over Angel for days, neglecting my career, putting my *life* in danger. And the only thing I'd managed to do was draw my boss' attention – never a good thing.
My cell phone rang. Great. Just what I needed – a late night call from the firm. I should have left the damn thing at the office. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it on the third ring.
"Yes?"
"Lindsey."
I stifled a sigh but couldn't really make myself sound civil. He was already pissed at me; I didn't have anything to lose. "Yes, Nathan."
"Where are you right now?"
"Out running some errands."
"We need your help on a project. Do you have something to write with?"
I looked down at the prosthesis attached to my arm. "Not really."
"Then you'll just have to remember this address," he said. "907 Lincoln. The cross street is Wilkinson. I expect you there in twenty minutes." He closed the connection, leaving me no room for argument, or even discussion.
I parked not far from the warehouse Nathan had directed me to. Wolfram and Hart had lots of these properties scattered around the city. Sometimes they made useful hiding places; sometimes they were used to store certain objects that we didn't want anyone finding. This building was in a particularly deserted location, which probably meant that the firm used it for torture and occasional assassinations, since there weren't any bystanders around to hear the screams. I paused for a moment, wondering if maybe I was walking one of those assassinations. If I was, there was nothing I could do about it now. Even if I ran, they'd get me before I made it back to my car. Might as well go in and get it over with.
I pulled open the door and stepped inside. Dim light, of course, provided by a few fluorescent lights high above my head. I've never seen a well-lit covert meeting place. A few crates lined the walls, probably awaiting transit; the rest of the space was pretty empty. A cluster of people stood at the far end, near a room that had probably been a manager's office. Nathan detached himself from the group and motioned me over.
I made it halfway across the room before I saw the bars on the office windows.
"Lindsey," Nathan greeted me. "Glad you could make it." He said it like I hadn't been under the threat of death.
"No problem."
He turned to head back to the office, and I followed him obediently, not asking any of the questions churning through my mind. I had a feeling he'd tell me what was going on soon enough.
We reached the far end of the warehouse, and I could see that the three other guys standing around the office were big and burly, and one of them looked like he wasn't exactly human. These had to be Lilah's mercenaries.
"As you know," Nathan said, "we do not approve of your relationship with Angel."
"I wouldn't exactly call it a relationship."
His glare warned me that I should just shut up and listen to what he had to say. "But we believe we've found a way to use that relationship to our advantage. This would also allow you to prove your loyalty to the firm, which has certainly been in brought into question lately."
Oh, man. There was no good way for him to finish this.
"What do you want me to do?"
Nathan gestured at the office window. After a moment, I walked over to it and looked through the bars. I'd assumed the cell was for Angel, but it was already occupied. A blonde woman, her clothes torn and bloody, was chained to the wall. A closer look, and I realized that I'd seen a picture of her before, in Angel's file.
"Is that who I think it is?" I asked.
"Yes," said Nathan. "Lindsey McDonald, meet Buffy Summers."
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