A/N: Let me start by saying that I do not own anything. Everything you recognize (and probably many things you don't) belong to someone else. No profit is being made from this work of fiction. Thanks.
Lindsey had just closed the door to his new office when it happened. One minute he was walking toward his brand new desk; the next, he was on his back on the floor, a gorgeous blonde sitting on top of him, looking at him as if he were lower than scum. He held back a sigh when he felt the stirrings of attraction. He always did fall for the ones who thought he was worthless. She moved off of him and stood a few feet back, giving him an icy stare.
“Who are you, where are we, and why am I here?” she questioned, her husky voice drawing Lindsey to her further.
“Lindsey McDonald. Pleasure to meet you,” he greeted, sticking out a hand. She took his hand reluctantly and nodded her head to him.
“Isabel. Now where are we?”
“My office at Wolfram & Hart.” He took a seat at his desk and began rifling through a drawer. There was a particular file in one drawer that he knew Holland had purposefully left with him.
“Which branch?” she questioned. “My father and ex were both lawyers, Mr. McDonald. I know of Wolfram & Hart, its reputation, and the fact that there are multiple branches around the globe.”
“Los Angeles, California.”
“And why am I here?”
“I don’t know. You landed on me.”
“Which could have been orchestrated by you,” she snapped. “In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me. You people are known for your less-than-savory dealings and ways of dealing with things.”
“Why would I bring you here just to have you crush my hips and ribs?”
“Please, I don’t weigh enough to crush your ribs. At most you’ll have bruises,” she dismissed him.
“I didn’t bring you here.”
“Whatever you say. I’ll be leaving now.”
“Where are you going?”
“What are you, some kind of stalker? I’m not telling you anything about myself that I don’t have to.”
“I can use my resources here to get you back home in the same manner that you arrived. It’s likely that no one would even realize that you had been gone.”
“I don’t want or need your help.”
“Then how are you going to get back home?”
“I’ll take a cab. I can find my way.”
“How are you going to do that when your ‘home’ is constantly moving?” The woman glared at him suspiciously, and Lindsey knew it was time to step carefully. “Your hair looks windblown, as if you were traveling in a fast vehicle with the windows down. That, added to the smell of gasoline clinging to your clothes that you don’t seem to notice lets me know that you’ve been traveling for awhile. The way you avoid words like ‘home’, ‘house’, or anything of that sort tells me that you’re living on the road instead of just traveling. And the look you’re giving me now is making me wonder if you aren’t on the run from something. If you were a client of Wolfram & Hart, we could take care of any problems you might have, maybe let you and your family have a little stability again.”
“I’ve told you before, Mr. McDonald, I don’t want your help!”
“That’s fine. It was just an offer. Well then, Ms. Evans, it was a pleasure to meet you. Would you like me to pass along a message to your father the next time I see him in court? Maybe let him know that you and your brother are safe?”
Her eyes widened fractionally, then she shook her head no. “I never told you my last name.”
“It’s part of my job to know things like that. Wolfram & Hart have been… intrigued by the events in Roswell these last few years. You should be safe if you stay near the borders of New Mexico,” he informed her. “Your pursuers wouldn’t think to look for you so close to your home town.”
With that, Lindsey read a few Latin phrases from the paper that had been hidden in his drawer, and Isabel found herself back in the little van, surrounded by her friends.