Everything I Can't Remember
By Bri
*Faith's singing is in italics, Lindsey's in bold, and the two together are bolded italics.
“So what do you think, Lindsey?” The Host asked as he surveyed the crowd. “Is it just me, or are the crooners and shakers in here tonight just lacking that special something?”Lindsey looked up from the glass he was drying. “I don’t know, Boss,” he said, glancing at the demons milling around. “It’s not like any of them are usually stellar in that department, anyway.”
“That’s why I have you,” The Host said fondly, smiling at his new bartender.
Lindsey laughed and set the dried glass aside. “You have me because I couldn’t stand the thought of selling my soul to Wolfram and Hart for one more day, and because Ramon walked out on you, leaving you without a Sea Breeze maker.”
The Host sighed and shook his head. “Ain’t it the truth, sugar?” he mused, wincing as a Brednar demon hit a particularly high note, butchering it, of course. “I would sell my soul to have a decent singer walk up on that stage.”
Lindsey smiled, picking up another dripping glass and pulling the towel off his shoulder. He rubbed at the water spots and listened to The Host’s idle chatter about this demon or that song. He still marveled at the stroke of luck that had found him at Caritas, someplace he hadn’t been in months, the night that Ramon just up and quit. The Host had offered him the job the moment he mentioned that he had walked out of Wolfram and Hart’s plush high-rise offices. He’d been working as the bartender for Caritas for three months, happier now than he’d ever been at Wolfram and Hart, despite the lack of a six-figure income.
Lindsey was on his last glass when he became aware of a silence, except for the Tropli singing Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.” He looked up, only mildly curious, but what he saw caused him to drop the glass. He didn’t hear the sound it made when it shattered on the floor, nor was he aware of the shocked look The Host was giving him.
Faith.
What the hell was she doing here? Shouldn’t she be in jail? A million questions ran through Lindsey’s mind as the general noise level of the club picked up again, the shock of the Slayer’s entrance waning.
Lindsey observed the girl who was standing semi-nervously in the doorway to the club. She was dressed simply, not anxious to be the center of attention. She was wearing a pair of worn, faded blue jeans that fit her slender form like a glove, and a dark blue tank top. Her silky, curling dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail high on the crown of her head. The makeup was understated, a little mascara and some clear lip gloss.
For some reason, Lindsey’s breathing quickened. Why was it that she appealed more to him now, when she was looking like a girl back home instead of a sexy L.A. lady in leather, than she ever had before? When he’d first been introduced to her he’d thought several things about her, all of them suitable for a B-level porn movie, but he’d never been attracted to this somehow vulnerable side she was projecting.
Lindsey was started from his thoughts when he saw The Host approach Faith. “Hello, gorgeous,” he whistled, smiling benevolently. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Faith?” Lindsey’s jaw dropped, but he quickly snapped it shut. He’d trained himself years ago to mask his emotions, and just because he wasn’t with Wolfram and Hart anymore, didn’t mean he couldn’t employ those self-taught lessons.
Faith smiled briefly, her eyes going back to the stage. “I need to sing,” she said, barely audible.
The Host clapped his hands together once, tucking them under his chin. “Then sing you shall, beautiful,” he said with a wink. He put a hand on the small of her back and led her to the bar. “Have a drink on me while we wait for the murder to end,” he said, glaring at the demon on stage.
Faith’s eyes widened when she saw who was behind the bar. “Lindsey?” she gasped in disbelief.
“Faith,” Lindsey acknowledged coolly. He grabbed the broom and swept up the shards of glass littering the floor. “What brings you to Caritas?”
The Host looked between the two. “You know each other?” he asked in amazement.
Both Lindsey and Faith ignored him. “Well, I just got sprung,” Faith started, and Lindsey snorted. She silenced him with a glare. “I’m on parole. And I’m feeling a little lost. Not that you’d know anything about it,” she spit out. “Not since you have Wolfram and Hart to tell you what to do and where to go, how to think and what to say,” she added bitterly. She sighed, the anger disappearing as soon as it had surfaced. “I’m looking for a little direction,” she admitted softly.
The Host’s eyes widened as he looked from Lindsey’s cool detachment to Faith’s uncertainty. “I have the most brilliant idea in the history of brilliant ideas,” he announced, snapping his fingers.
Lindsey and Faith looked at him. “What would that be?” Lindsey asked cautiously, somehow knowing it had something to do with the two of them, and that he probably wouldn’t like it.
The Host smiled. “You two are going to do a duet,” he proclaimed.
Faith shook her head vehemently. “Unh-uh. No way,” she insisted.
“Why not?” The Host asked in amazement. “You both are amazing singers. Your voices will, oh, just sound like pure heaven when you sing together!” he cried, holding his hands to his heart in a melodramatic gesture.
Faith glared at Lindsey. “I can’t sing with evil demon lawyer boy,” she declared.
The Host batted his eyes at her. “He doesn’t work for Wolfram and Hart anymore,” he informed her. “He works for me.”
Faith’s eyes widened and she swiveled to look at Lindsey. “No joke?” she asked doubtfully.
Lindsey shook his head, a little amused at her reaction. “No joke,” he affirmed. He gestured at the bar and tugged at the towel he’d once again swung over his shoulder. “I gave up the three-piece-suit-no-soul world for something that speaks to me a little more.”
Faith’s eyes darkened. “I’m not singing with you,” she insisted.
“Come on, I’ll let you pick the song,” Lindsey coaxed, his playful side emerging for the first time in years.
She stared at him thoughtfully. “Staind,” she challenged.
He looked her over. “I think ‘It’s Been Awhile,’ is calling our names,” he mused.
She blinked in surprise. “You know Staind?” she asked.
Lindsey nodded. “One of the best bands ever,” he agreed.
Faith smiled, a slow smile that spread from one side of her face to the other. “Then let’s get up there,” she declared.
Lindsey took his towel off and tossed it at The Host, who was smiling happily. Faith headed for the foot of the stage while Lindsey went to talk to the guy in charge of setting up the karaoke, letting him know what song he was supposed to put on.
Lindsey held out his hand to Faith, who gracefully took it. He led her up the stairs and over to the microphones. The instrumental introduction began to play, and Lindsey waited for his cue.
It's been awhile
Since I could
Hold my head up high
And it’s been awhile
Since I first saw you
It’s been awhile
Since I could stand
On my own two feet again
And it’s been awhile
Since I could call youFaith looked at him in surprise. He was good. His voice was all deep and husky… She shivered as she let it wash over her. She eyed him as she joined in with him on the chorus. He wasn’t the only one with a set of pipes.
And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my meansIt's been awhile
Since I could say
That I wasn't addicted
And it’s been awhile
Since I could say I love myself as well
And it’s been awhile
Since I've gone and
Fucked things up
Just like I always do
And it’s been awhile
But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with youLindsey wanted to drop his jaw again, but he carefully masked his surprise. Her voice was… Well, it was like whiskey and honey. Throaty and seductive, but silky and sweet at the same time. He’d never heard anything like her.
And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered,
I've gone and fucked things up againWhy must I feel this way
Just make this go away
Just one more peaceful dayIt's been awhile
Since I could look at myself straight
And it’s been awhile
Since I said I'm sorry
And it’s been awhile
Since I've seen the way
The candle lights your face
And it’s been awhile
But I can still remember just the way you tasteFaith’s heart fluttered against her will as Lindsey closed his eyes and let his voice swell over the last phrase, singing to her in the most intimate way. She let her eyes drift shut as she imagined the two of them in that kind of setting. She could almost feel his hands on her body, could feel his lips and tongue blazing a path over her heated skin.
Her eyes popped open as she realized that Lindsey had already started the chorus, and she quickly jumped in, hoping no one had noticed that she’d missed her cue.
And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem to be
I know it's me
I cannot blame this on my father
He did the best he could for meIt's been awhile
Since I could
Hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I said I'm sorryThe final notes died away as they stared at each other in shock and unleashed desire. The crowd applauded violently, and Lindsey blinked as he came back to reality. The two turned out to face the crowd, and Lindsey noted with surprise that The Host’s jaw was hanging wide open.
They descended the stairs, and Lindsey reached out to take her hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Faith side-stepped the move. “Try it, McDonald, and you’ll leave this place as a soprano,” she warned.
Lindsey hid a grin as they approached The Host, who was lounging against the bar. “Brava, bravo,” he cried. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in a long time. Look, there are tears in my eyes,” he added, indicating the moisture glistening red in the dim lights of the club.
“So what did you see?” Faith asked impatiently, distancing herself from Lindsey.
The Host glanced at Lindsey. “I’m not sure you really want to hear this,” he hedged.
“Yes I do!” Faith insisted. “That’s the whole reason I came in here in the first place!”
“Well, I saw you two. Together,” The Host admitted.
Faith glared at him. “That’s one sick mental you got going there, Lizard-Breath,” she hissed.
Lindsey chuckled. “I don’t know, Faith, I kinda like the direction his vision is taking,” he said candidly.
Faith smirked. “Just tell me it’s me running him through with a crowbar or something equally rusty, and I’m five-by-five.”
The Host laughed. “No, nothing so bloody as all that,” he said. “But I’ll have to let Angel know there’s a certain happy couple he’ll have to congratulate with a bottle of bubbly in the not-too-distant future,” he teased.
Faith made a face as she stepped back from the bar. “Not if I can help it,” she muttered. She glared acidly at Lindsey. “Nice singing with you,” she admitted, refusing to remember the imagined feel of his body against hers. She glanced at The Host. “Thanks for nothing.” She turned around and walked out of Caritas, not giving either Lindsey or The Host a second glance.
The Host looked at Lindsey and sensed his loss. “Don’t worry, Lindsey doll. She’ll be back.”