Title: Precious
Author: Zoe Han
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. own the rights to "Angel"
Spoilers: Rain of Fire
Summary: Explores Connor's side of the little event that occurred at the end of Rain of Fire
Notes: Yes, I purposely never mention Cordelia's name. Be warned, Connor sympathetic.
Distribution: just ask

There's no room for apologies over the way I feel. How can there be when her presence dissipates the shadows of my self-loathing?

I was convinced it wasn't just a dream when my eager hands stumbled over her curves; I was always a little more suave in my fantasies. Insecurities threatened hesitation, but she tenderly swept the hair from my eyes and whispered reassurances. From there, I lost the rest of the world as we sank deeper into a blue sea of sheets. There was no rain of fire, no Beast, and no father. It was simply she and I existing for each other.

Her orange blossom scent soaked through me, and summer melted on my lips. I brushed my cheek against hers and trailed a finger over the curve of her throat, careful of the burn she had received earlier in the evening. Vengeance always came naturally to me, which was why there was no question in my finding a way to make The Beast pay for hurting her.

Her name escaped my lips in a whisper that lingered in the air, and I became trapped somewhere between sorrow and bliss. She opened her eyes and gave me a sad smile, reflecting the sense of tragedy suspended between us. For a moment, I wanted the world to end right there, with her eyes on me, understanding the silent words meant only for her.

But the world didn't end.

A glow from outside softly illuminated the loft and patterened it with flickering silhouettes. I heard sirens whining, piercing the air while rioting voices thundered replies in counterpoint, and beneath it all the rushing sound of fire played as the motif. The orchestration which acted as The Beast's entr'acte would no doubt give way to a prelude for the next harbinger.

But I couldn't have cared less, not when she was cradled against my body and I felt her crying. Deep breaths and shallow sighs, she tried to muffle the sounds, and I wanted to absorb her pain until it died within mine. Our fingers remained intertwined as she pulled my hand to her lips. I held her tightly and wanted to tell her that anything worthy and good about me was because of her.

I wondered if she loved me, at least a little.

We were both silent, and I didn't mind. If it was all pretend, I played the willing fool.. but if it wasn't. If it wasn't. As she turned her head, I knew the answer laid in the depths of her eyes, and I just had to be brave enough to look into them.

end