Fanfiction: Chained Freedom
Lilah Morgan crossed her legs causally and clasped her hands in her lap. Portraying confidence she actually lacked at the moment, she sat perfectly poised, like a graceful debutant posing for a portrait. She kept her expressions as calm and collected as possible as Linwood Murrow flipped through her files.
He looked up at her finally, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. "And why exactly am I funding this parade of ineptitude again?"
"Sir," Lilah began as she sat forward slightly, "I can promise you that this project will benefit Wolfram and Hart in the long-run. The possibilities are endless if we can manage to not only guarantee Angel as a key player on our side, but the Watcher and the Slayer as well."
"Really," he replied, unconvinced.
"Yes, sir," she said with a determined nod.
"And this would be the same Slayer that broke into your office and gave you the nice little scar?"
The corner of Lilah’s mouth twitched in response. She clasped her hands even tighter together in her lap, fighting the urge to reach up and touch her still-sore cheek. "That would be her, sir. Faith." She cleared her throat before continuing, "I believe Faith could be a major asset to our firm. She’s strong. She’s smart. She’s violent."
"She’s also highly unpredictable and could turn on us like a rabid dog. How would she be worth our time and energy?"
"Because through her, we could get her Watcher, sir. Wyndam-Pryce."
Linwood sighed, reaching onto his desk and closing the open file. "Lilah, this little Project of yours is getting ridiculously out of hand. We have given you the manpower and money you requested to secure inside information from Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, and you have yet to recuperate our losses?."
"I understand that, sir, but?."
"There are no buts here, Lilah," Linwood interrupted as he got to his feet. "There are also no second chances. I think maybe we’ve treated you so well that you’ve forgotten our little saying here at Wolfram and Hart."
"Mistakes cost more than time and money," Lilah muttered her breath.
"Exactly. Now, we’ve been very lenient with you over the past year, but we can only bend so much, Ms. Morgan, until something snaps. Your job was to get Mr. Wyndam-Pryce on our side of the field, not the Slayer. Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about the Slayer, and you know why?"
Lilah hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out if his question was rhetorical or not. "No sir," she finally replied.
"Because Slayers are highly expendable." He placed his hands firmly on the front of his desk and leaned forward. "You kill one, you get another. It’s like a revolving door. However, only one man can give us the kind of inside knowledge he has into Angel Investigations and Angel himself. Do you understand what I’m saying, Lilah?"
"Yes, sir, I do."
"Good," he replied, standing up straight. "Now, your focus is on Wyndam-Pryce. Nothing else. There will be no more nonsense with this Slayer, do you understand?"
Lilah contained the frown she felt forming. "Yes, sir."
He nodded. "Good. Do whatever you have to do, but if I hear that that girl has been on Wolfram and Hart premises again, the least of your worries will be a scar, Ms. Morgan. You’re dismissed."
Without saying a word, Lilah stood and quickly gathered her file from his desk. She walked out of the office, trying her best to exude unfaltering confidence.
"Stop pouting, Angel."
Hovering in the doorway of the office, Angel heard Cordelia’s voice over his shoulder. He turned to her, a slight frown on his face.
Cordelia and Fred were searching through the file cabinets for a misplaced case, but Cordelia had stopped searching long enough to watch him.
"I’m not pouting," he said.
"Fred, was he or was he not pouting?" Cordelia asked.
Fred, who knelt over the drawer containing "Wa-Vy", looked up at Cordelia before turning to Angel with an apologetic smile. "You’ve definitely been in a pouty mood this morning."
"I’m not pouting. I just think?." Angel turned back to the lobby with a frown. "Shouldn’t I be the one to train him?"
The settee in the lobby had been pushed to a corner and the floor cleared of all furniture. In the center, Faith and Connor sparred. At the moment, Connor had an arm wrapped tightly around Faith’s neck, and she seemed to be instructing him on how to free himself and put his attacker at a disadvantage in one single move.
"I think it’s kinda cute," Fred chimed in.
Angel instantly turned back to the women, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Faith teaching my son how to kill is cute?"
"You’re obviously missing the big picture here, Angel," Cordelia smiled before returning to her search.
"What big picture?"
Cordelia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Angel, please tell me you’re not really this blind."
Angel simply looked at her in response.
"You do know why Connor wants to train with Faith instead, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Angel asked, crossing his arms.
Cordelia and Fred shared a look, and even Fred had to shake her head in disbelief. Fred looked towards Angel as she tried to explain, "You don’t really have the right equipment, Angel."
"But we all use the same equipment?." he began.
Cordelia finally stepped away from the file cabinet and approached Angel. She gently took hold of his shoulders and turned him towards the doorway, looking out into the lobby. "Angel, honey, tell me what you see."
"I see my son being trained by someone who is obviously not me."
"Uh-huh," Cordelia nodded. "True, but what the rest of us see is a hormonally-charged sixteen-year-old boy who’s getting the chance to get highly physical with a sweaty and curvy woman."
"What?" Angel scoffed. "Connor doesn’t?."
"What? Have eyes?" Cordelia smirked. She returned to the file cabinet as she called over her shoulder, "You really worry me sometimes, Angel."
"He has a crush on her?" Angel asked, turning to them. "Since when?"
Fred smirked and looked from Cordelia, who just rolled her eyes again, to Angel. "Since day one, Angel. Where have you been?"
"Well, I was a little too busy reeling from the fact that my son had returned to me as a teenager to really take notice of anything else," Angel countered in his defense.
"Obviously," Cordelia snickered, returning to her search.
Angel frowned at them and turned his attention back to the lobby, a pout forming on his lips.
"Stop pouting, Angel."
Hovering in the doorway of the office, Angel heard Cordelia’s voice over his shoulder. He turned to her, a slight frown on his face.
Cordelia and Fred were searching through the file cabinets for a misplaced case, but Cordelia had stopped searching long enough to watch him.
"I’m not pouting," he said.
"Fred, was he or was he not pouting?" Cordelia asked.
Fred, who knelt over the drawer containing "Wa-Vy", looked up at Cordelia before turning to Angel with an apologetic smile. "You’ve definitely been in a pouty mood this morning."
"I’m not pouting. I just think?." Angel turned back to the lobby with a frown. "Shouldn’t I be the one to train him?"
The settee in the lobby had been pushed to a corner and the floor cleared of all furniture. In the center, Faith and Connor sparred. At the moment, Connor had an arm wrapped tightly around Faith’s neck, and she seemed to be instructing him on how to free himself and put his attacker at a disadvantage in one single move.
"I think it’s kinda cute," Fred chimed in.
Angel instantly turned back to the women, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Faith teaching my son how to kill is cute?"
"You’re obviously missing the big picture here, Angel," Cordelia smiled before returning to her search.
"What big picture?"
Cordelia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Angel, please tell me you’re not really this blind."
Angel simply looked at her in response.
"You do know why Connor wants to train with Faith instead, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Angel asked, crossing his arms.
Cordelia and Fred shared a look, and even Fred had to shake her head in disbelief. Fred looked towards Angel as she tried to explain, "You don’t really have the right equipment, Angel."
"But we all use the same equipment?." he began.
Cordelia finally stepped away from the file cabinet and approached Angel. She gently took hold of his shoulders and turned him towards the doorway, looking out into the lobby. "Angel, honey, tell me what you see."
"I see my son being trained by someone who is obviously not me."
"Uh-huh," Cordelia nodded. "True, but what the rest of us see is a hormonally-charged sixteen-year-old boy who’s getting the chance to get highly physical with a sweaty and curvy woman."
"What?" Angel scoffed. "Connor doesn’t?."
"What? Have eyes?" Cordelia smirked. She returned to the file cabinet as she called over her shoulder, "You really worry me sometimes, Angel."
"He has a crush on her?" Angel asked, turning to them. "Since when?"
Fred smirked and looked from Cordelia, who just rolled her eyes again, to Angel. "Since day one, Angel. Where have you been?"
"Well, I was a little too busy reeling from the fact that my son had returned to me as a teenager to really take notice of anything else," Angel countered in his defense.
"Obviously," Cordelia snickered, returning to her search.
Angel frowned at them and turned his attention back to the lobby, a pout forming on his lips.