Summary: The team accidentally runs into Lindsey during a con. Written for comment-fic at LJ. NOT in my "McDonald Boys" verse.

The Other Eliot

"Guys, we're blown. Nate?"

"Everybody to the van now!"

"On my way!" Parker says, and runs to the door of the storage room. She opens it slowly and pokes her head out.

Left. Right. Clear.

She darts out into the passageway and runs until she gets to a corner. She leans up against the wall and works to control her breathing.

In. Out. In. Out. Slow. Slow.

She can hear someone coming, so she gets her taser out.

Footsteps. Left, right, left, right. One person. Calm, even steps. Left, right, left.

She darts out, taser at the ready.

"Oh. It's you. Come on! Let's go!"

Eliot's eyes widen as she grabs his arm and pulls him down the hallway with her.

"Wh- "

"Shh!"

"O-kay."

They run out of a back door and down to where the van is waiting, its back door open for them.

Seeing the faces of the entire team already inside, she says, "Go, go, go!"

And they're off.

Sorta.

Eliot says, "What're you doin' here?"

Then Eliot replies, "Hot blonde pops outta nowhere, grabs my arm, and says, 'Let's go,' what do you expect me to do?" and laughs.

Wait a minute.

Eliot. And Eliot.

Two Eliots.

That's not normal. Is it? It could be normal with Eliot. But she's pretty sure that it's not because the rest of the team's faces look as confused as she feels. And Eliot (one of them, anyway) looks furious. That's normal. But not. Because he's usually not growling at himself. And he also doesn't laugh at himself, like the other (not scowling) Eliot is doing.

"What are you doin' here?" the angry Eliot asks again.

"Working, same as you," the smiley Eliot says. "By the way, you didn't just steal something from my client, did you? Actually, don't answer that. I don't want any liability on this matter."

Eliot growls. "Client?"

"Client," Eliot says smugly.

"You're twins," Sophie gasps. "Eliot, you're a twin?"

"Yes," Eliot grinds out, "And my pain in the ass twin brother is gonna get outta the van right now."

Eliot's twin (oooohhhh, that makes sense now) snorts. "I'm not jumping out of a moving vehicle. One, I'm not mentally unbalanced like you. Two, your little organization here kidnapped me, and three, according to a city law that was passed recently, it's illegal in Glendale, California for any individual to jump out of a vehicle going 65 miles per hour or faster."

They stare. Well, except for Nate, who's driving the van southbound on the I-5. Eliot's eyes flick to an upcoming sign.

"Comin' up on Alhambra in a quarter mile," he snarls. "Won't be illegal then."

The twin rolls his eyes. "It will be if you push me out, dumbass. Look, just drop me off at work and I'll get someone to pick up the company car. I won't tell anybody what you were up to because obviously, I don't know."

"Work?" Sophie asks.

Parker tilts her head. "Company car?" Shiny! she thinks, Company cars are always shiny.

"Wolfram and Hart," Eliot's twin replies calmly. "Lindsey McDonald, attorney at law."

"You're a lawyer," Sophie says thoughtfully. "At Wolfram and Hart? That's interesting."

"McDonald?" mutters Hardison. His fingers begin tapping before the word's out of his mouth. "Wolfram and Hart."

"Hardison, don't," growls Eliot (the real one). "I mean it."

Lindsey (Isn't that a girl's name? But what does Parker know, anyway? It could be a boy name in Eliot-land.) chuckles. "Aw, let him. It's not like he'll find anything important, anyway."

Eliot makes a low sound in the back of his throat and his fingers curl like they want to be wrapped around his brother's neck.

Completely nonplussed, the lawyer looks around the van. "So this is your team, huh? Thought you swore off of teams after the last time. At least now I don't have to worry about bailing your ass out of North Korean prisons."

Eliot doesn't reply and instead crosses his arms so he's not tempted to throttle his twin. Then a thought occurs to him.

"Parker, why did you think he was me?" he asks, and gestures at his dark t-shirt and jeans. "We're not even dressed alike. And his hair's different!"

Well, now that he's pointed it out...

"Oh. Right. Count the haircuts." She looks between the two men, and sees the differences. The clothes and the hair, the just-shaved smoothness of Lindsey's face, the scars on Eliot's, the sly, smug expression on the first, and the...injured petulance on the second. "Sorry?"

Eliot huffs.

"Wolfram and Hart on Wilshire?" Nate calls from the driver's seat.

"Yes, Mr. Ford, that's the one," Lindsey answers. "Just stop out front, thanks."

The van coasts to a stop on the street outside the glass and concrete building. Lindsey gets out and smoothes the wrinkles out of his well-cut, custom-tailored suit.

"It was nice meeting you all," he says with a genial smile, "We should do dinner sometime."

"Yes, we should," Sophie replies with an equally charming smile of her own.

Lindsey chuckles and shakes his head. "Eliot on a team," he says, as if to himself, but obviously for the benefit of the team's ears, "That's adorable."

Eliot growls and lunges halfway out of the van, only to be stopped by a hand to the shoulder.

"Watch your head," Lindsey scolds, cautioning against more than just a bump against the van's ceiling, "Be careful. An' pick up the damn phone when I call."

"I'm fine, Lindsey," Eliot snarls, and slams the van door shut in his brother's smirking face.

The team watches Lindsey walk with light steps towards the entrance of the law firm, his black leather attaché case swinging in his hand.

Then Hardison laughs. "You're the little brother, aren't you?"

Eliot's face darkens. "What part of 'twins' do you not understand? We're the same age."

"You are!" Hardison gloats. "You totally are!"