Part 4

Lindsey sat at his desk, trying to get some work done. Understandably, he'd been having a bit of trouble getting around to it lately. He couldn't, however, keep putting it off, so here he was. After much effort, he was finally beginning to immerse himself in the task at hand. It was a talent that he had, being able to zone in completely on the job. Once he entered his particular work zone, he could get massive amounts of work done, without needing to stop.

"I'm bored. Give me something to do."

Moderately annoyed, he looked up at the intruder. "Lilah, I'm working."

"I noticed. But I'm still bored."

He resisted the urge to growl at her. "Lilah, I have more important things to do than to baby-sit you..."

"Well, if you give me something to do, then I won't bother you anymore."

"You bother me when you breathe Lilah. Look, why don't you take those" he pointed to a stack of papers "and file them then?"

"Do I look like a secretary to you?"

"There's always dishes to do..."

"Hello filing." She picked up the papers and headed to the filing cabinets.

He watched her for a moment. Ever since they'd met, she'd had little tolerance for sitting around and doing nothing. For some reason that woman always had to be doing something. He supposed that she wanted to make sure that people saw her as a competent businesswoman. It was true that women still did have to work a lot harder than men to get even half the amount of respect that was accorded to men. But Lilah, she was obsessed. Everything she did was in effect an act designed to advance her position, or increase her power within her environment. Had she always been that way? If so, he couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for her. She'd never have had a life. Just a set of goals. She probably had no one in the world but herself.

"Ow! Goddam paper cuts.... Lindsey, your filing cabinet ought to be condemned!"

Then again, her sparkling personality probably came in to play too....

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"Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty... That's it? Limo-riding, champagne- drinking, model-humping loser carries eighty friggin' bucks? Damn..." The angry brunette ran one hand through her long hair. Rent was going to be tight this month. Of course, that was nothing new. Maybe it was time for a change of tactics. But she had such easy prey right now. Men were so stupid. Show them a bit of leg, pay a couple of compliments, and they were putty in her hands. Finally, men were making a worthwhile contribution to her life. Of course, that's because now she was the one in charge. She was the one using them. All it took was a pretty smile and some crushed up sleeping pills slipped into their drink. She wasn't terribly worried about being reported to the police. Her victims were carefully chosen. All of them were arrogant, chauvinistic bastards whose pride would never allow them to admit that they'd been duped by a woman.

Tonight's haul was pretty pitiful, but at least it would buy her groceries. Fleetingly, she wondered what was going to happen when she grew older, and her looks failed. Of course college was out of the question. She just didn't have the finances. Becoming some kind of gold-digging trophy girlfriend would likely solve that, but she wasn't going to depend on some man, and play sex-bunny for him. As she sat counting the money at her tiny kitchen table, a voice spoke out to her.

"Lilah Morgan.... do you want power Lilah?"

"Huh? What the hell?" She turned her head and saw a tall man in a dark suit standing in her doorway. "Who the hell are you and how did you get into my kitchen?" She rose from her seat, glaring at the intruder.

"I represent Wolfram and Hart. We're a law firm that deals with... well, special interest clients, so to speak. Tell me, do you want the power to get whatever it is you want, from anyone you choose? To make the world tremble at your feet?"

Frowning, she replied "And just how do you plan to give me this power?"

The man smiled, looking amused. "The firm has connections like you wouldn't believe."

"Uh-huh. And you chose me to give all this power to because...?" she prompted.

"We see potential in you Lilah. We see a woman who will be willing to do what it takes to ensure her own future. We like that in our employees."

"Well, that's too bad. No degree, so I doubt you'll be able to give me a job."

"The firm is willing to cover the cost of educating you. We can guarantee you an Ivy League education."

"Right. And what's this going to cost me?"

"Only your soul."

Smirking, she replied, "I lost that a long time ago."

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Amazing. In less than two hours, the woman had completely reorganized his filing cabinet. It had gone from being a disaster zone to being impeccably neat, and organized by multiple levels of categorization. Which meant that it would take him forever to figure out where everything was. Lindsey knew though that she hadn't done it to screw up his system. She'd done it to improve efficiency. Lilah wasn't really the type to screw you around if she didn't have something to gain from it. It wasn't worth wasting her conniving cleverness on someone or something that didn't matter.

With a shrug, he closed the drawer and headed into the kitchen. It was beginning to get late. He rummaged in the refrigerator for something to make for dinner, but couldn't find anything. Once again, he'd neglected to go grocery shopping. That was one of the disadvantages to running his own office. His time was usually so fully consumed that he forgot about things like food, and oh, sleep. The work wasn't especially difficult, but having to do all of it alone was definitely pushing his limits. He'd maybe have to find someone to partner up with. With an aggravated sigh, he shut the door. It looked like they'd have to go out for dinner tonight. He made his way into the living room, where the brunette was flipping through the newspaper.

"Lilah? There's no dinner food. We're going to have to go to a restaurant."

Frowning, she looked at him. "Lindsey, I'm covered in black and blue bruises here... probably gonna draw some negative attention."

"Well, it's that or we don't eat."

"Alright... but I'm not going to a steak house."

"That's because you have no taste in food."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you consider some pieces of raw fish and cup of tea to be a meal. Raw fish, Lilah."

"What, so steak and potatoes are haute-cuisine?"

"At least they're real food."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine... how about Chinese food then? I've seen your desk covered in Chinese take-out boxes before. Sometimes you're a real slob."

Declining to rise to the bait, he simply nodded. "Alright. There's a good Chinese place about 10 minutes from here. We should go now though. They're usually pretty busy this time of night, so it'll take a bit to get a table." With that, he headed outside, with Lilah following close behind. When they reach the driveway, she made a face.

"You still have that monstrosity that you call a truck?"

"Do you want to walk to the restaurant Lilah? Because I'll gladly leave you to your own devices if you insult the truck again."

Without further ado, she climbed inside and they were off.

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"You're sure that's her?"

"Yep. She matches the photo exactly. Well, 'cept she's got a lot more bruises."

"Who's that guy she's with?"

"Dunno. Looks kinda familiar. Figure we should deal with him too?"

"That's not in our orders."

"Yeah, but we don't wanna leave any loose ends. You know those business types hate that."

"Guess it can't hurt to be careful." The blonde man dug into his sweet and sour pork. "I just can't believe that after all the lookin' we did, we run into her while we're gettin' dinner."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth Reg. Doesn't matter where we found her, just that we did find her. Now we can finish the job and get our pay. 'Bout time too. I've got some bills to pay."

"So we wait until they leave? Tail them?"

"Yeah, good idea. Don't wanna have any witnesses."

A few tables away, Lindsey glanced up from studying his menu and frowned. He was sure that he recognized the two men sitting at the corner table. Where had he seen them before? Oh yeah. They were hit men that he'd hired for the firm to take care of a problematic group of Ragna demons. As he recalled, they'd been very good. Efficient at their work. Now, what were they doing all the way out here, unless... He glanced at Lilah. Bingo. Somehow, the firm knew that she was still alive and had sent someone to finish her off. He resisted the urge to get up and get her out of the restaurant. It was better to wait here, where there were people, until he could come up with a plan. It was better to wait here, where there were people, until he could come up with a plan. It was best not to go back home until he could lose them. But where else could they go? Of course, the easiest solution would just be to let them have her. But that wasn't how he did things anymore. Some tiny part of him suggested that maybe he also just didn't want Lilah to die, but he quickly squashed it with a practiced ease.

Lilah could feel eyes burning into the back of her neck, and she noticed Lindsey glance casually at something or someone behind her. When he made no move to comment on what it was that he saw she rose and made her way to the ladies' room, which was behind them. This gave her a chance to look around, and she didn't like what she saw. Two men were sitting at the table in the corner. Two men whom she'd seen before in the offices of the firm. Why hadn't Lindsey made her aware of them? For one moment, the more suspicious part of her mind whispered to her that it was because he didn't care if she were to be killed. She shushed it, reminding herself that Lindsey was the one who had warned her not to call the firm when she'd first awakened, and that he was letting her stay in his home instead of kicking her out to fend for himself. Yes, it was merely something he was doing so he could feel like a good guy for once, but it also meant that he didn't want her dead. But if he was a good guy now, wouldn't he consider her to be one of the bad guys? Or was she now one of the victim types, since Wolfram and Hart had set its sights on her.

She shuddered at that thought. One thing that she couldn't tolerate was to be seen as a victim. Being perceived as unable to protect herself, or to accomplish her own goals was something of a nightmare to her. She'd never allow herself to be put into that position again. She'd never let herself be the weak one, who got used and abused. Damn him anyway. Why was he getting to her like this? Why did she care about what he thought of her? She washed her hands in the cold water of the sink, scrubbing the skin of her hands clean, and it was as though she was trying at the same time to cleanse her mind of the troublesome thoughts that were beginning to sprout within it.