Originally posted for 15minuteficlets. Has no real canon time to speak of, but is probably post Til Death Do Us Part.

When people ask -- and it has happened, though only once or twice -- Lindsey tells them that he doesn't believe in anything. It's just easier, tends to cut the conversation short.

After all, it's usually not worth the effort to explain how a good little Irish Catholic boy gets into the business of world domination.

Sometimes, he thinks Faith would understand. He's read the file, of course, knows her background, knows the path that she chose in spite of it. She would understand the questions, all the poisonous "if"s that he's always found everywhere he looks.

Then he remembers that she's the one fighting on the side of good, surrounded by a surrogate family, working towards being a psychologically sound member of the community, while he's the doublecrossing exile left alone with his mechanical hand.

Which is when he decides he'd rather not try to talk to Faith about it.

He paces the alley behind the church, thinking that this was a stupid idea to begin with. There's always a point where you have to admit you're too far gone.

"Lindsey?" A tentative voice bounces off the stones. "Are you back there?"

He sees the blonde hair first, ironically catching the sunlight like a halo -- then the formfitting leather, in a shade like sacramental wine -- then the face, a cautious, alert expression transforming into a smirk when she catches his eye.

"There you are," Lily says. "I was afraid I was too late."

~*~*~

(The word was salvation.)