Chapter Text
Lindsey had arrived early. He couldn’t have said exactly why. Maybe because he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk in if he saw Eliot already sitting inside. Maybe because he needed those few extra minutes to quiet that damn knot in his stomach.
He sat at a table near the window, where he could see Eliot coming. It had been so long. He wondered if he would even recognize him. Angel had said they looked quite alike.
Absentmindedly, he started fiddling with the paper napkin in front of him. He didn’t order right away. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to swallow anything.
Eliot arrived right on time. Not a minute late.
Lindsey recognized him instantly. Angel had been right.
He was slightly taller, broader in the shoulders. In ten years, he seemed to have gained in muscle what Lindsey had gained in legal expertise. He entered without hesitation, his steel-blue gaze sweeping across the room with natural confidence before locking onto him. For a moment, Lindsey felt like he had been thrown back years, to the days when Eliot was the one leading the way, the one he followed and tried to impress.
Lindsey stood up when he reached his table. They looked at each other, without saying anything. Two brothers who didn’t know how to act around each other.
— "Hi, Lindsey," Eliot eventually said, his tone softer than his appearance suggested.
Lindsey froze. It was strange to hear his name spoken by that voice he hadn’t heard in so many years. He simply waved his hand in response, then gestured to the chair across from him. Eliot nodded and sat down, a bit stiffly. He knew Lindsey had lost his voice, but it was as if he hadn’t fully realized what that implied until he saw him again.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them as they watched each other. Eliot wore his security uniform – in his letter, he had told Lindsey that he was there for work after all. The fabric strained slightly against his chest and suddenly, Lindsey felt much smaller than he really was.
— "Do you want something to drink?" Eliot finally asked, grabbing the menu with a slightly brusque gesture.
Lindsey shook his head, then pointed toward Eliot with his chin to return the question.
— "A coffee."
A waiter came, took the order and brought it over right away, then they were alone again. The silence was heavy. Eliot drummed his fingers lightly on the table, a clear sign of his unease.
— "You…" He paused, searching for words, then continued more hesitantly. "How are you doing? You can hear me, right?"
Lindsey nodded. Then he smiled and gave a thumbs-up. Yes, he was doing fine.
Eliot took a sip of coffee. He set the cup down, rubbed his hands together, then blurted out, almost involuntarily:
— "It’s weird seeing you like this."
He instantly regretted his words. Lindsey caught the twitch in his jaw, like he wanted to swallow back what he’d just said. Eliot had always been the type to say what he thought without thinking… which got him into a lot of trouble...
Lindsey took out the notebook he used to communicate with people who didn’t understand sign language.
Mute? he wrote.
Eliot nodded.
— "Yeah… You couldn’t keep your mouth shut when you were a kid, remember?"
Again, Eliot seemed to regret his words right away, as if afraid he’d stirred up some painful memories.
But Lindsey smiled.
It’s true, I remember, he wrote.
— "How did it happen?" then Eliot dared to ask, his features softening with concern.
Lindsey paused for a moment, his fingers hovering over the page. How could he explain that he had lost his voice due to a magical incantation meant to stop the Devil from unleashing hell on Earth…
He ended up writing:
It’s complicated.
Eliot just nodded, respecting what he took as a sign of modesty. His eyes, however, narrowed slightly. The same look he'd had younger when he knew his little brother was holding something back.
Another long silence followed.
— "I have another complicated question, Linds," Eliot challenged, breaking the quiet. His voice hardened, and he unconsciously flexed his fingers, as if preparing for a fight. "Why did you cut ties with us? What happened? I know you were close to Mom, but dammit, Lisa was counting on you. Sam too, even if he’d never admit it. You didn’t even come to the funeral, Linds!"
Lindsey took the hit. He had expected this question, of course. But not so soon. And not so… harsh. He leaned over his notebook but didn’t write anything down. The words wouldn’t come. Not because of his mutism this time.
I couldn’t do it, he finally wrote. It was easier to leave everything behind.
Eliot clenched his jaw and his gaze darkened as his voice became heavier.
— "Couldn’t do what? Easier for who? Because it sure as hell wasn’t easy for us."
Lindsey felt his stomach tighten. He looked down at his notebook, unable to hold his brother’s gaze under the weight of his own bad choices. The memories came crashing back. His mother’s face. Holland’s, too. "You should take a vacation, Lindsey…" His throat tightened, and his trembling hand dropped the pen.
Eliot sighed and ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t meant to come on so strongly, but he couldn’t just ignore everything either. Ten years of silence, and now they were here, sizing each other up like strangers. With a visible effort, he relaxed his shoulders, trying not to let the resentment get the best of him.
— "Sorry. I didn’t mean to… be aggressive," he apologized.
Lindsey looked up and shook his head. It wasn’t Eliot’s fault. It was his. For a few moments, they watched each other. Eliot’s eyes were piercing, as if trying to dig into Lindsey’s. But the lawyer had regained some composure, a quiet resolve that showed he was no longer the kid brother who followed.
— "I just want to understand, Linds," continued Eliot, his voice more composed, though still dark with unsaid feelings. "Why did you leave like that? Was it because I wasn’t there? Because I screwed up and ended up in jail?"
Lindsey opened his mouth in an absurd reflex. He swallowed and reached for his pen.
No. It had nothing to do with that! he wrote hastily.
Eliot frowned.
— "Then explain it to me."
Lindsey remained motionless. His hand clenched the pen so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wanted to tell him the truth. That it was his fault their mother had died. That Wolfram & Hart had killed her to punish him, to keep him under their thumb. But he just couldn’t. He spun the pen between his fingers, unable to write.
Eliot watched him struggle against himself. There was an unexpected patience in how he waited and let his little brother take his time.
— "You think I’m going to judge you?" he finally asked as Lindsey wasn’t responding.
Lindsey gave a bitter smile.
You should. You have every right to be angry.
Eliot huffed, a mirthless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
— "Honestly, baby brother, you have no idea the kind of crap I’ve done." He shook his head. "You’re not the only one carrying the weight of the past. And if you think I’m going to walk away just because you’ve got ghosts up your ass, then you really don’t know me anymore."
Lindsey felt a lump rise in his throat. His own ghosts had caught up with him not so long ago: the guilt he’d managed to bury by leaving Wolfram & Hart had come back full force when he learned the criminal he’d helped free had done the unthinkable. He looked down and let his pen trace a shaky line of words.
These last two months have been rough. Complicated. I’m a bit lost right now, Eliot.
A silence fell over the table. Eliot watched his brother for a long moment, then slowly nodded and sighed. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and finally said, more gently:
— "I guess we don’t have to fix everything today…"
Lindsey looked up and Eliot gave a small smile, momentarily erasing the hard edges life had carved into him and bringing them back to when they were both innocent. Poor, quite unhappy, but innocent.
— "But now that I’ve found you, you’d better not disappear again. Got it?"
Lindsey stared at him for a moment, rediscovering the protective glance that had followed him through all his childhood. He slowly nodded.
It was a start.
---
Lindsey parked his truck in front of the house and turned off the engine. Beside him, Eliot look outside with an appreciative little whistle before glancing over at him.
— "Nice place. Yours?" he asked, his usual gruff tone softened by genuine admiration.
Lindsey grabbed his notebook and quickly wrote: Ours. Mine and Angel’s.
Eliot raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.
— "Not bad. Big step up from the trailer... Should’ve been a lawyer myself."
Lindsey shot him a mock-exasperated look before getting out of the truck. Eliot followed, casting one last glance at the house before stepping inside.
In the living room, Angel was sitting in an armchair, a book open on his lap. Hearing the door, he raised his head, and a smile immediately appeared on his face when he saw that Eliot was accompanying Lindsey. He set the book down on the coffee table and stood to greet him.
— "Eliot, good to see you again."
Eliot nodded with a small smile.
— "Angel."
Without hesitation, the vampire offered him a firm handshake, which Eliot returned with equal strength. Then Angel leaned over to kiss Lindsey on the temple.
"I told Eliot he could stay the night," Lindsey immediately signed. "I hope that’s okay with you."
— "Of course, we’ve got the space!" Angel replied right away. "And it would’ve been silly to pay for a hotel, right?" he added, turning to Eliot.
— "Uh, yeah," Eliot murmured, a little uncertain since he had only caught half the conversation. His eyes darted between them, trying to follow their semi-silent exchange.
"I’ll get everything ready and come back with something to drink," Lindsey signed before leaving the room.
Eliot watched him walk away, still not quite sure what had been said, then turned to Angel.
— "So, you know sign language..." he remarked.
— "Oh, sorry!" Angel said, realizing Eliot probably hadn’t understood what Lindsey had explained. "Lindsey just told me you’re staying the night, and he went to check the guest room. Sorry, sign language has become a habit, it was unconscious. But I’ll play interpreter tonight, makes things easier."
— "Thanks," Eliot replied simply.
An odd silence settled. Eliot looked around the room for a moment.
— "It’s a beautiful house..." he said, trying a neutral topic.
— "Thanks," Angel replied. "There are still a few rooms we want to renovate, but we feel good here."
Lindsey came back at that moment, carrying a tray of snacks and drinks. They sat down, and Angel raised his glass for a toast:
— "To reunions?" he suggested.
"And to family," Lindsey added.
Angel quickly echoed it aloud for Eliot, and they all drank.
— "So, how exactly did you two meet?" Eliot asked, leaning forward slightly, his forearms resting on his thighs.
Lindsey and Angel exchanged a glance.
— "At work..." Angel eventually answered.
— "Work, huh?" Eliot turned to Angel, his head tilting as he gauged him. "Sorry, but you don’t really look like a lawyer..."
Angel chuckled.
— "Let’s just say we were in the same field, but not on the same side. I caught the criminals, Lindsey tried to get them free."
Eliot genuinely burst out laughing.
— "Seriously? A cop with a lawyer?"
— "Officially, a detective," Angel clarified. "But my agency handles... different things, actually."
Eliot nodded, visibly interested.
— "You’re quite young to already run your own agency..." he remarked. "What are you, 25?"
Angel smiled, uneasy. Eliot definitely asked all the tricky questions.
— "Twenty-six."
Eliot nodded with a smirk.
— "Oh yeah, so almost ten years apart… You sure this isn’t just some kind of rebellion phase, Linds?" he mocked, with the kind of teasing tone that only an older brother can have.
Lindsey immediately wrote in his notebook: Go to hell!
Eliot chuckled.
— "That’s reassuring. At least you haven’t changed. Still got that bite, even in writing." He gave Angel a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Not sure you made the right choice, man... This guy’s a real pain in the ass."
Angel couldn’t help but smile.
— "Trust me, I know. I’ve always said he’s exasperating!" he replied, as his fiancé gave him a mock-offended look.
Lindsey rolled his eyes. But even though they were teasing him, a faint smile played on his lips as he watched Angel and Eliot joking around like they’d known each other for years.
That was when the front door opened.
— "Hey, Dad. Hey Lindsey."
Connor’s voice echoed from the hallway like a bomb going off. Eliot froze, his glass suspended in the air. Angel almost choked on his drink. Lindsey, for his part, slowly lifted his gaze toward Connor, who had just walked in casually.
Eliot turned his head toward him, his eyebrows shooting up.
— "...Excuse me? ‘Hey, Dad’?"
Connor stopped short, looking between Angel, Lindsey, and Eliot with a slight frown. He didn’t seem to understand what was causing the sudden tension.
— "Oh, uh... Evening. I’m Connor," he announced, introducing himself with an awkward smile.
Eliot stared at Connor’s outstretched hand but didn’t take it. He slowly set his glass down on the table, then turned toward Angel. His expression had shifted from relaxed to interrogative in an instant.
— "Mind explaining how you have an adult son when you just told me you’re twenty-six?"
Angel opened his mouth, then closed it, and threw a desperate look at Lindsey, who gave him a completely unhelpful smile in return. They should have prepared an explanation… Too late.
— "Ah. Uh." Angel was scrambling for a plausible answer. "It’s... complicated."
Eliot raised an eyebrow, making his scar stand out more clearly.
— "Complicated how? You had a kid at five?"
Angel hesitated, running a hand over his face. Fuck, they really should’ve thought about this before... His mind was spinning as he tried to come up with a story that would hold up. Beside him, Lindsey seemed to be struggling just as much.
— "Let’s just say... it’s a long story," Angel finally said.
Eliot crossed his arms, his biceps flexing beneath his shirt sleeve, and he leaned back in his seat with the patience of someone who'd spent hours on stakeouts.
— "I’ve got all night. I’m sleeping here, remember?"
Lindsey put his glass down and signed, knowing Eliot wouldn’t understand: "Tell him it’s an adoption. It’s the easiest."
Angel looked up at Eliot.
— "It’s an adoption," he declared, trying to sound convincing, or so he hoped.
Eliot stared at him for a moment, not fooled.
— "Do you think I’m stupid? You took forever to answer and watched Lindsey sign first. It’s not credible at all."
His voice was level but firm, the tone of a man accustomed to cutting through bullshit. Angel pressed his lips together, then clarified:
— "Connor isn’t officially my son, but let’s just say I took care of him during a certain time in his life. It wasn’t easy, because of… the age difference and some other things… but... we’re family. The three of us."
He had managed to come up with something plausible and, what’s more, without lying (more or less). Beside him, Lindsey looked at him, both impressed by the answer and touched to be included in Angel’s family.
Eliot, still skeptical, was about to retort, but he stopped himself when he saw the way Lindsey was smiling at Angel. His piercing eyes softened. Maybe it was a lie… But after all, maybe he didn’t need to know the whole truth.
He turned back to Connor and finally shook his hand, his grip firm but not challenging.
— "Nice to meet you, Connor. I’m Eliot, Lindsey’s brother."
— "Oh, nice to meet you! So considering that Lindsey is about to become my stepdad in, what, a week, does that make you my uncle?"
Startled, Eliot let out a strangled cough, as Lindsey burst into silent laughter. He wasn’t sure whether to berate Connor for the ‘stepdad’ comment again or tease Eliot for his reaction. Amusement won out, and Connor joined him, sitting beside him on the couch.
— "Damn it… You guys have a complicated family," Eliot said, recovering. "If you’ve got any other secret kids who might show up, say it now, please. Just so I have time to prepare for being an uncle."
Lindsey smiled but shook his head, reassuring his brother.