TITLE: A Better Man
AUTHOR:Mari
EMAIL: Cyni1@aol.com or Ficangel@ok.freei.net
RATING: PG or so
SUMMARY: Lindsey reflects after 'To Shanshu In LA'
SPOILERS: To Shanshu In LA
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I just confuse them
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I love Lindsey. He's got depth and conflict and the potential to become an incredible character if given the chance. Ergo, fic.

Sometimes, all right, a lot of the time, I regret my decision. These moments usually come in the middle of the night while I'm alone and there is none of the firm's fearful adrenaline to distract me. I know I should be sleeping but instead I just stare at the ceiling and let my thoughts chase each other round and round and round.

When I was a child I told myself that if my father was a better man he would not have just given up like he did. Never mind that the woman who was his wife and my mother was dead and he had to support the four of us on minimum wage, two of the original six having been taken by influenza. Never mind that he honestly thought the hellish group home would have given us a better upbringing than he could. If he was a better man he would have stood his ground and fought.

That thought glued itself firmly to my mind when I made the decision to go back to Wolfram and Hart. I would not be my father. I would not just throw it all away. Whatever it took.

It's that kind of survivalist philosophy that keeps you alive at Wolfram and Hart. They just eat it up. It got me a window office, a six figure salary, and my hand lopped off when I decided to try it at killing.

Even through the pain and rapid dizziness as blood poured from the stump where my hand had been, some locked away part of me was almost glad that Angel did what he did. Because I would have dropped the scroll into the fire otherwise. Definitely. I would have killed for the first time and thereby assured myself as damned. Now there's still room for self-doubt and the straggling remnants of my conscience to say that maybe, just maybe, there's still some hope left. Not likely, but it can't hurt anymore to entertain the thought than it would to accept.

Angel gave me a second chance. I used it to try to kill Cordelia. Even if it was indirect I can't say I didn't know what burning the scroll would result in. I might as well have taken my second chance, crumbled it into pieces, and then tossed it out the window of my plush new office.

If I were a better man I would take the tiny sliver of hope that is left before it becomes even less than that and use it to pull myself out. But I'm not. So I stay.