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Nothing Gained
Part III
by Spirit
Email: naughtyspirit@cableinet.co.uk
Rating : R
Summary : Prior to 'City of', Kate and Lindsey became involved, (straight
and narrow) this story takes place a few months later, but still before
Angel's arrival in LA. This one hurt like buggery to write - any technical
mistakes with nurses, lawyers or miscellaneous beings I apologize for in
advance.
Disclaimer : Oh please, if he was mine, you wouldn't find me writing.
Although I'm pretty sure Joss doesn't have those kinds of designs on the
man.
Notes : Lar - unbelievable help and self control - most of the credit here
belongs with you.
= = = = =
Lindsey leans against the wooden panel, taps the number in and listens out
for the dial tone. Four rings and he hangs up, unwilling to put yet another
message on her answering machine, wonders just how many constitutes stalking
and whether he's going to be looking for a little legal counsel of his own.
He makes a mental note to check with Jen back in the office - see if she can
get through the clerk and find out just how obsessive he sounds. Thinks
about it, cancels the notion as he pictures Lee talking amiably, finding out
just what he's up to. He can't trust anyone there, and maybe that's for the
best - at least he isn't open to unexpected betrayal at work.
Behind him, the low thrum of the courthouse grows to fever pitch - his
client, his now acquitted client flashing lecherous and genuinely pleased
smiles at the cameras. The case itself has been low profile until now, until
there was actually a chance Lindsey could pull it off. It seems that Little
Tony is still intrigued with his lesser acquaintances, and the lawyers who
can make them look clean. Lindsey saw Lee in court, saw him seething as low
Southern charm and a week's worth of sleepless nights spent researching paid
off. He heard the clenched congratulations, brought up a smile and lost it
as soon as he was free to call her. He's done angry, he's done loving and he
's definitely done pleading. To his ears, each message is the same - call
me, we need to talk. But he can hear the desperation in his voice, and that
rope seems to slip through his fingers each time he hears her rather bored
invitation to leave his name and number.
Seven days, seven nights and still he can't roll to his side, clutch at the
pillow and pretend she's still there. Paced his apartment while the case,
the damn case figures in his head and he works out how to add another
victory in his camp, defeat in hers. There should be some small satisfaction
in that, but Lindsey can't quite bring himself to think that way. Miles to
go before he can picture her humbled and take pleasure in it. He's told
himself she needs time, that if he just waits, she'll come back, refreshed,
renewed and eager to build their family together. Tries to see it, but the
fence is broken and he knows her, knows that if she wanted to, she could put
eternity on the back burner. And even if she would come back to him now, it'
s not in his nature to wait, he needs to know that he can sleep tonight -
that if he puts enough effort into it, she'll magically appear in front of
him, subtle smile not so subtle now, aching to be with him.
The station's number is second nature and he turns away from the noisy
crowd, ignoring Lee's attempts to take credit for his work. It's not as
though the Senior Partners would be fooled even for an instant, and he's
done with glory hunting for the day. Lets the phone ring out until he hears
a familiar and not entirely pleasant voice. Asks for Kate, same as he's done
once, a hundred times and hears that she's not available. He can leave a
message and a number if he wants. Lindsey hangs up without bothering to
answer, tempted to smash the phone against the wall, holds it tight in his
knuckles as he feels his client's meaty hand on his shoulder.
"And it's all thanks to you, my man. Anything I can help you with in the
future, you just say the word."
Lindsey offers a business smile and smoothes his jacket out.
"All part of the service, Mr. Andrews. It takes a team to get this kind of
result."
Lindsey glares briefly at Lee before he feels the vibration in his hand.
Clasps the receiver to his ear and hits pick up before it ends the first
ring. Leaves his associate to deal with his client, heart thumping hard as
he waits for her to talk. He slumps back against the post when it's Jen,
calling and making sure his superiors have been told about his success. He
wants to hand it all over, wants to walk away and lock Kate and himself in a
room until some kind of understanding is reached, isn't above pretending she
'll beg him to understand how she loves him so much it's frightening - can't
quite bring her voice to say it. And in the background, he can hear Lee
sleazing his way through the conversation, slipping into the gaps to promote
himself to Tony, making sure his choice of counsel is noted and approved.
Vaguely registers Andrews' dismissal and pledge to celebrate, hopes like
hell that he isn't invited - any drinking Lindsey does is likely to be done
alone.
"Lindsey? You coming back to the office?"
He shakes his head and takes off, slipping behind the wheel of his car and
feeling uncomfortable in its seats. He likes the good life, likes its
trappings and wonders whether gene play is always going to call him intruder
in these places. Ignores the waving behind him, doesn't really feel as
though he's merited their approval, certain that they don't deserve his. The
traffic seems to pull back as he drives and he wonders if there's actually
anything out here that looks out for people like him, or whether he's
condemned from the get go - working as he does with things he knows a sane
man wouldn't touch. But then his insanity has led him out of before, and
whatever else comes, wherever she takes him, he's certain it can't be as bad
as that.
Her apartment building looks even starker by daylight - somehow more haunted
than when the lights come on and it glows dimly on the street corner.
Lindsey has taken time to wonder how she happened to choose it - wonders why
she didn't stop and question herself why the rent was low and the tenant
turnover was high. She told him once that she redecorated, tried to make it
more her, but it felt like pouring cement over concrete - took three coats
of blue and she could still see the room beneath. And when he asked how she
could live there, Kate shrugged and pointed out it was just a place to
sleep. And though he loves walking into to such clean stylish lines, Lindsey
longs to able to feel that way - wants home to be just anywhere. Wants to
build it all anew.
He could go in, stand outside her apartment until she opens the door, or
just wait until she gets back, sees him there and has to deal with him. If
this is her policy for not working things our, he despises it - wants to be
able to stand in front of her and hear Kate tell him why and why and why and
then explain just how wrong that all is and see her melt. Because he has to
be right, here - there's no way he's willing to lose her, lose their child
just because communication skills have dried up. Talking's what he does - a
part of who he is and if he can't bring those talents to bear now, if she
slips through his fingers then he may as well offer himself up for whatever
punishment the Senior Partners see fit. Shakes his head at his own stupidity
and drives away, tells himself the station is on route, is the only route.
Slams the car into park and climbs the stairs to the station, sees his
favorite not-favorite officer at the reception desk and goes for sincere in
his smile.
"She's not here, Mr. McDonald."
"I know - I heard you. But that was..."
"Half an hour ago and no, she's not back yet."
Lindsey resists the urge to slam his hand down on the desk and start really
making a scene. If he can just get near her, explain, he'll know he's doing
all he can. Looks up to see the city's finest snarling at him - they know
who he is, they know how to get in his face and if there was ever a case of
them and us that he's personally been involved in, this is the bench mark
now. They won't help him - they're more than happy to stand in his way.
Takes a deep breath and turns back to the duty officer.
"Look, I know you don't have to help me."
"I have helped you, sir. She isn't here."
"I'm getting that. But you could help me out here, tell me where I can find
her."
She looks at him squarely and for a moment, Lindsey lets himself hope that
it's not all cold hearts and statues here - that somehow, in some small way
this woman can set him back on the road. But then he's jostled as the
officers press forward, picking up notes and exchanging friendly flirtation
until Lindsey's back on the outside. He recognizes a couple of them, thinks
he's actually exchanged pleasantries with at least one and he's still the
intruder here. He wonders when this started to matter more than anything
else - when did she supercede all his better judgment?
Jumbled messages through a radio and Lindsey thinks for a moment that he's
back with Kate's answering machine - her voice, less bored, frantic now and
he realizes that it's not then, it's not a recording and his girlfriend is
at work, asking for help and someone else is going to respond. Sees them
look at each other, moving out before he can ask the questions, receptionist
noting it down because it's just another day and just another case and
whoever Kate called for backup over is holding a gun, firing at her, at them
and Lindsey can't seem to breathe. Swallows at the dryness in his throat and
that hurts, finds his fingers covering the key fob before he runs out,
driving on auto, foot to the floor as he moves up and out, pedestrians
jumping to the side as the traffic builds up. And he can't think, can't do
anything right now - brain refusing to move past the strained call in her
voice and he doesn't dare ask why she's there or what's happened or whether
she's hurt. Go now, drive now - find, keep, protect.
Lindsey is practically out of the car before the engine dies down, smoke
curling from under the hood and the crowd in front of him peering into the
carnage. He pushes through, ignores the complaints and the arms that bang
against him. Sees the ambulance, the God damn ambulance and moves over to it
as quick as he can, police barriers pushed through and he catches one long
fingered hand across the sheet, recognizes it, knows how it feels on his
flesh and beats back on the physical block between him and the linen stained
with flesh blood. He looks up at Jake, sees her partner, sees that he's
immoveable right now and clenches his jaw.
"You let me through now."
"What are you, an ambulance chaser? Move on McDonald, you can't do anything
here - you've done enough."
"What? What are you talking about? Let me see her. Let me go with her."
He tries to step past Jake as the doors close behind her, feels the weight
in Jake's hand and knows that he could move him, but it's going to hurt. He
leans back and glares at him.
"You know she'd want me to be there."
"Well now, she isn't exactly conscious right now, what with the bullet wound
and all. So I'm gonna go with a no on that."
"What did I do to you? She wasn't interested, is that it?"
Jake leans back, all confident, all in control now and Lindsey recognizes
that, sees the paramedics walk round to talk with their companions - sees
the other ambulance, sees another gurney. No rush there.
"You want to go with her, McDonald? You want to comfort her, make it so she
doesn't have to think about why she was here?"
"It's her job," Lindsey says, tongue suddenly numb and he doesn't believe it
any more than Jake does.
"Right, her job - talk to Tony's accountant because today, the muscle's
going away for a very long time. No question about it - he's nailed, no way
he's coming back."
Jake prods Lindsey's chest, and that gurney looks so still now, so big and
so fucking still and he just doesn't want to know, doesn't want to hear this
because Lindsey's pretty sure he knows how the story goes from hereon in.
"Only he's got a lawyer, good one - hot shot who just doesn't know when to
quit. And he walks, walks right back over to his ward and when he finds our
little Katie asking questions, he doesn't like it. Pulls out a piece and
takes some serious offence."
Takes his hand off Lindsey and folds his arms again. Because he knows now,
knows he has it in hand and that all the control is out of Lindsey's way.
"So you wanna go explain that to her now? Come on, let's go tell Kate how
this all started, you explain why she's all shot up. Why a man's dead and
she's been damn near it. Come on McDonald - I'll drive you myself."
The ambulance pulls away and the last gurney gets packed inside the one
without a siren, the one they don't use for the live cases, because that
would be too big a waste of money and energy. He feels very cold - fingers
holding the keys as if they are real, alive and can give him something to
do. Looks at the place the ambulance sat and Lindsey can't seem to
rationalize how one success is wrong now, is over now and has probably cost
him more than if he'd let Lee screw him over. Looks down at his hands and
wonders just how coated in blood they are - whether they're going to be red
slicked from here onwards, and if he can ever wipe them clean.
He walks away from Jake, finds the car and climbs in. Struggles to insert
the key and he realizes his hand is shaking, whole body shuddering and he
feels nauseous. Lindsey leans out of the car and spits on the pavement,
nothing there - nothing left. And he wants to be able to close his eyes
without seeing that one fucking hand. Elegant fingers splayed out as she
lies inert. Wonders whether it's his job to seek out evil and enter in,
whether Wolfram and Hart actually demand that level from him or if it just
seeps in as time passes. By the time he's reached home, he can barely
control the dizziness, reaches his apartment, locks the door, slams
deadbolts home as he falls onto the couch.
He hears the phone ring once, picks it up, hears a female voice, not her,
slams it down and kicks it onto the floor. Sheds his suit, old pants and
t-shirt from before, from when he used to be able to look in the mirror and
not ask how long until Hell. When he lies back, he drops the glass on the
table and splashes it full, whisky dipping down the side of the table.
Drinks the first one straight, doesn't even touch his throat, just pools in
his belly until the next one joins it.
And the next.
And the next.
When his eyes finally close, Lindsey can't bring anything into focus
properly - not an image of what he is and what he's done, not the woman who
cared for him enough to make another life possible. Not even his unborn
child, never born now - that chance is gone, wiped away and some part knows
that enough to keep the glass in his hand and the whisky handy. That
knowledge will all come later, in another day, in another time when he
understands that all the walls caved in when he wasn't looking.
Right now, there's only the solace of the empty, spinning room, and the
shame that rots him inside to out.
~~~
Kate swims back to conscious through what feels like a sticky pool. Even
before she opens her eyes, she can feel the low steady throb beneath her
shoulder, not quite painful, enough to keep her mind in the present.
Remembers the surprise of the door opening, hand shooting to her hip before
the first foot stepped through. Her mind steady, focused, as he logged her
badge, ignored her calm demands and opened fire. Caught him in the arm
before he could get the first one off, felt the white heat as it lodged in
her chest, and then it's all slick-free shooting until she managed to find
the radio, nausea already set in and she cant remember if it was cold or
dark, just that she was out and heard Lindsey call her name.
A whole week staying away from him - heard his calls and turned the volume
down so that she didn't give in, pick up the receiver and say 'I miss you'.
Couldn't, wouldn't let herself do that - because then they'd be dealing with
her issues and her problem and she still hasn't been able to look in the
mirror and announce calmly that she doesn't want this baby. Curled up in bed
wrapped in his clothes, old shirt that he's washed so many time he won't
wear any more - doesn't cut the right impression at work, wraps it round
herself, feels the softness of the cotton and just tries to remember how it
was before. And it's always the same, always him, always smiling, wicked
thoughts and even more wicked actions. She can feel the whisper of his
breath over her neck, fingers drifting across bare skin and a dazzling
promise that it could always be this way.
She wants to believe him - wants to think that one baby, two babies - a
whole damn army of McDonald children won't change the way he feels about
her, and that she can come first with him now and forever. Because it's not
the job, or the statement that yes, we are together and we intend to remain
so, it's her father then, her father now and could she stand to watch
Lindsey turn from her to her child and choose? Which of you do I love best?
Which one gets all the attention and which has to fight for me to turn her
way? It doesn't seem to matter that the competitiveness is all in her head,
she's lived it, seen how that works out and is so damn scared she's going to
watch an action replay...she doesn't know how to tell him. And the very
worst of it is that she can hear his voice, over and over, whispering it's
always her, and he has enough to share - no one has to stay in the cold.
"Well, look who's come back to join us. How do you feel, Kate?"
Lashes flutter open and she tries to focus on the rumpled uniform, nurse
doing something with a tube she isn't quite up to knowing about yet. Flashes
of waking now and Kate's all back, a little woozy and definitely in need of
something to drink, but she registers the hospital, that she's still here
and tries to organize her thoughts - how long will I be in here? Did I come
in alone? Did I kill him? Her hand shoots down to her belly and the cramp
that's been threatening on the edge of sanity starts to kick in.
"My baby. You know...you do know I'm having a baby."
The nurse straightens the tubing out and checks the needle in Kate's wrist.
Smiles at her and nods.
"I bet you're feeling thirsty now. How about you have some of this water
here - it'll ease your throat."
Kate knocks the cup away and shakes her head quickly, catches her dizziness
and tries not to plead.
"You've got to tell me. Is my baby all right?"
"Kate, just settle down, the doctor's coming soon to explain everything to
you."
"Tell me!"
And she knows now, just knows that it's not right, it's not happening and
one mistake in one morning has cost her more than a thousand calls
unanswered.
"I lost it, didn't I?"
"Honey, you really need to just to relax now, let us take care of you."
Kate's splays her fingers across the flat expanse, as though if she can just
hold on now, it won't be true. It won't be that part of her life and she'll
wake where she should be - an oasis from the force, try out that damn
Jacuzzi and just let Lindsey do all the damn protectiveness he wants. A
hotel where they talk about plans they have, things they should do, marriage
and homes and fences and building everything up, because it's always
building with Lindsey - he hasn't torn this down, she's done that. Crumbles
inside her as she feels the first tears well up. And when the doctor comes,
explains in as many ways and as sympathetically as he can that it was shock,
that these things happen, that she's lucky to be alive and that at some
point she can try again, Kate turns away and howls. Cries hard into the
night, sounds she's kept inside for years spilling forward and she wants to
yank on that 'if only' and stamp on it until she doesn't know this could be
different. Another sedative now and the howling slides to a sob. They ask if
there's someone she wants to call - gives them his number and when they say
he's not answering, she tells the nurse solemnly that she understands and
that he won't forgive her now.
She sleeps again, and when she wakes this time, she feels the hand across
her own, strokes her thumb alongside and waits for him to tell her it's all
okay, that they're fine - there's nothing to forgive and dear God, how much
he loves her anyway. But the hand pulls away and when she looks up this
time, she meets her father's eyes and wonders whether Hell is an easier
option.
"They say you'll be up and about in no time. So that's good."
She nods slowly, wants to ask if he chased Lindsey out of the waiting room,
keeps her mouth shut.
"So, I guess you had to take a bullet before you understood what kind of
bastard you were involved with, is that it?"
"What?"
"What you do? Fall out with him and goad him into setting one of these
scumbags to come over and kill you?"
She runs the hand that isn't taped up across her forehead, feels the sweat
building there and tries to think.
"I don't understand. Are we talking in riddles here?"
"Your boyfriend, the one you think more about than your own father's
advice - seems that McDonald's the one responsible for setting your little
gunman free."
Kate wonders if they can make that numbness spread up to her brain.
"Walked right away from McDonald's handshake to you. Your little lawyer was
probably still drinking in the bar to celebrate when you nearly died."
"He wouldn't do that."
"Of course he would. It's his damn job, Katie - his choice. It's what I've
been telling you all along, but you just wouldn't listen to me. Oh no! Cause
your old man's just trying to run your life. Not trying to look out for
you."
She whispers for him to quiet, whispers for him to leave, but Trevor Lockley
isn't going anywhere until he's had his say.
"Has he called you here, once? He couldn't even be bothered to show up,
Kate. That's the kind of man you're with."
The scream seems to come from elsewhere. It's not until the nurse comes back
in and ushers her father out that she feels the reverberations in her
throat. She's never hysterical, never listens to sad stories and if she sees
a mouse or a spider, she can deal with it. And she shouldn't be screaming
now, yelling for him to leave, crying out for everything that's gone and can
never come back. Falls back into narcotic sleep and doesn't want to wake up.
Not now. Not ever again.
~~~
Lindsey leans against the building, head still aching with a days old
hangover. Across the street, the doors swing freely and yet another lawsuit
in waiting walks through. He thinks he's seen every standard outpatient that
exists, today. Seen men and women, children - all bundled up despite the
heat of the day. They all seem bland to him - faces in the street, could've
passed them every day and never seen a single feature. He debated whether to
bring flowers, finger on the dial before he realized that faded blooms were
not exactly going to make up for a single thing. And does he really believe
he can buy her back? Does he believe for one second that she won't glare at
him with the same contempt he's seen her deal his clients.
He's seen her once, morphine dripping into an arm that looked too thin. Felt
her shift lightly in her sleep and he wanted to believe she was rolling
towards him, could feel his presence even through the drugs. Knew she couldn
't. Covered her hand with his, careful not to dislodge the IV. He wanted to
talk, to apologize and just tell her that they could get past this. Even
when she slept, he couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to give her the
lie when her eyes were closed. Couldn't stay until she woke to see icy blue
denying there was an 'us' to save. And when he bent to kiss her forehead, he
hesitated, wondering if it was just another intrusion. Lips hovered inches
from her skin and when he heard the nurse firmly explaining it was after
visiting hours, it was almost a relief. He saw the pity in her face, the
murmured questions and the understanding - couldn't take it, left without
committing his name. Walked into the dark as she told him he could come
again.
There's that numb feeling again, hitting his legs before anywhere else and
he wonders whether there's any kind of mourning process that's acceptable
for parents who never will be. He doesn't want to go to anything formal,
despite the probable availability in LA, he just wants to know what he can
bring her to apologize for not knowing and not thinking and not being
something else. He's gone through all possible permutations of what he could
have done differently, but it all comes down to what he does and who he is.
And when for an instant he wanted to scream at her that she didn't need to
be there, that they could have been anywhere but most importantly, *not
there*, he caught his reflection and recognized the child staring back.
Because he's not old enough to feel this way, figures he won't be until he
hits seventy or so and everything's all done, all over and he doesn't have
to worry about anything.
And when her hair catches the sunlight, seems to shine in front of him,
Lindsey isn't sure whether stepping back into the shadows, into his shame is
the right thing to do. He aches, feels the pain as distinctly as the glare
from the sun, when he sees the sling. And he wants to hope, wants to see the
doctor at the delivery telling him he's a father, that his wife is doing
just fine, mother and baby both well and he doesn't feel any less a man for
being tearful and for wanting it. In some other life, somewhere that cops
and robbers don't run between the lawyers and all three get intermingled,
maybe that could happen there. But she's being wheeled out, and he tries to
remember if that's standard policy or not and whether any of that matters
right now.
He turns to walk away when she looks up, meets his eyes and yes, he's right,
there's disdain there, mingled beneath pain and hurt that has nothing to do
with the hole he made. She gestures the driver to wait, he guesses it's one
of her girlfriends and is almost thankful that Trevor Lockley is nowhere in
sight. Lindsey almost has to force his feet to move, wills himself to go
face the music and see if there's anything he can do to make this better,
make this over and make it just them again.
As he gets within six feet of her, she holds her good hand up and he thinks
he can see lines in her face that weren't there before. Stands still, waits
for judgment.
"Okay, that's close enough."
"Kate, I'm so..."
"No, stop there. I don't want to hear you talk anymore."
He snaps his mouth shut, bites his tongue and that ache is growing now,
disease spreading quickly.
"You probably know by now there is no baby."
"I didn't."
She seems to bite back on something and he allows himself to believe it's
hurt, that this cold figure is still Kate, that she wishes things had been
different.
"You have *no* property here. Nothing to come near me for."
"Kate, you know it's never just been about our baby."
"There is no baby! There's nothing and if you ever come near me again I'll
file for a restraining order."
She turns before he can reach out to touch her and climbs awkwardly into the
car. Lindsey moves to the window and bends down, level with her even if she
won't look at him.
"I didn't know. You know I'd never intentionally do anything to hurt you.
You know that. I just didn't think..."
"No, that's just it, Lindsey. You never think about the consequences."
She looks at him once more and he sees the tears, shed for him, and for more
loss than he'd ever want her to bear.
"It's part of who you are. And I just can't live like that."
Then she's gone, driven away, and he's as certain that she won't come back
now as the sky is up, the earth is down and he's alone again. Stares after
the car until it disappears into the distance. Walks back to the Mercedes
and climbs in, starting it up without looking. He pulls away and goes to the
office, settles in his chair for a moment before calling Jen and asking for
all outstanding cases on file. And when she brings them in with an
apologetic 'sorry there are so many', he doesn't acknowledge it. Just
ploughs through with the same dedication he once put in for exams, for
school, for anything that he had to work for and that's been everything.
When it ends, she'll come back.
And it will never end.
~~~
End
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