AT THE BEGINNING

Content: C/A Season Three Fluff

Summary: Angel is brooding after he sends Cordy away with Groo

Spoilers: none

Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me.

Note: This is set immediately following the end of Couplet.

Babies can sense things. They can tell certain things when you're holding them. When you're looking down at them. Babies just know.

Angel was convinced of this. Connor had been acting different all night. Since Cordy had walked out the door of the hotel. Since Angel had told her to take some time off. Since she'd chosen Groo and left Angel almost numb with pain.

It's like Connor could see that Angel was upset; he knew something was wrong. He wasn't crying but… There were no soft coos or wet gurgly smiles either. Angel wasn't positive, but it seemed like the baby was brooding along with his father.

The boy, having just been fed, was quietly content being held in his father's arms. The two stood at the window in Angel's bedroom, looking out at Los Angeles—an L.A. that seemed just a little bit darker than usual. It was a little uglier, Angel thought. There was little romance in the skyline that spread out before him. He felt guilty at these thoughts. He didn't want his son to see the world the way that he did in that moment. So he searched for something bright to focus on.

"See up there, Connor? Those twinkly lights? Those are stars. Can you say stars?" he asked his son. The baby opened his mouth, but only to shove a few fingers in. Angel smiled. "That's okay. Plenty of time for talking later on." He looked down at the baby for a moment. Life wasn't all bad. He had Connor.

"Anyway," he whispered, looking up at the sky again, "those are stars. You can't always see that many of them here." He felt Connor nod his head slightly and decided to take that as understanding. "And that light there, that's moving and sort of blinking? That's an airplane. But I bet you can't say 'airplane' yet either. Don't worry. You will." In response, the baby sucked loudly on his fingers.

Angel kept talking. There was a quiet comfort in sharing with his child. "Your Aunt Cordy, she's probably on that plane right now," Angel said. As if sensing his father's distress, Connor removed his hand from his mouth and put it against Angel's cheek. Angel turned his mouth to kiss the palm of the tiny hand. "She's probably going somewhere sunny and warm. Where she's going to walk around half naked and drink things called 'Sex on the Beach'—or something equally cheesy. Prancing around in a little white bikini."

"Red actually."

Angel scowled and turned both of them around to face the door. Cordelia stood there, dressed in the same clothes she had been wearing earlier, with a bemused expression on her face. Angel blinked a couple of times to make sure she was really standing there. Lately he'd been having some pretty intense daydreams.

"Excuse me?" he stuttered, nervously bouncing the baby."

She still stood in the doorway. "Red. My bikini? It's red," she told him with a raised eyebrow. "And I'd like to think I don't prance around. I may strut, but I'm not much of a prancer."

"What are you doing here?" Angel's conversation skills were not up to par at the moment.

"I don't know," Cordy admitted as she stepped inside his room and walked over to the window where he still stood. Connor stretched out his arm to her and went "Ahh," like he was trying to say "get over here and hold me." Angel knew exactly how he felt and envied the baby's ability to just ask for what he wanted.

"I thought I'd make sure you were okay," Cordy said, moving to stand facing him. She hooked a finger in the V of his sweater, leaned towards him and peeked down his shirt at the white bandage Fred had applied earlier. "Looks like you're all patched up," she noted and let go of his shirt. She started to take a step backwards and gave a quiet yelp when she found out that Connor had grabbed hold of a chunk of her hair.

Angel immediately reached for the baby's hand. "Oh. Connor. Let go…that's it," Angel said as he worked the hair free of the baby's damp grip.

Cordy bent down and leaned into the baby's face. "Connor, were you pulling my hair? OH, I see, you think you can just bat your eyes at me and all's forgiven? Well, you're right. You little ladies man—clearly not a trait you inherited." She looked up at Angel's face to see if he'd caught the little jab.

"Hey!"

She ignored him by scooping the baby out of his arms. Angel stayed there, by the window, as she ambled around the room, communicating with his son in a series of "ooohs" and "ahhhs." It looked so natural and so perfect and Angel wanted to capture this moment forever. The two of them together were so very beautiful that it hurt to look. In fact, he really couldn't take looking much longer. He suddenly wanted her to go.

"Look, it's pretty late, Cor…and I'm fine so—"

"Actually," she said, sitting down on Angel's bed and putting Connor down safely in the middle, "I kinda want to talk to you." Assured that the baby wasn't about to roll right off the bed, she looked up, staring right at Angel. "What were you trying to say that night?"

It was so surprising, so out of left field, that it took Angel a moment to realize just what she was asking. It took a lot less time to realize there was no way in hell he could tell her. He decided to play dumb.

"Uh, what night?"

She narrowed her eyes. She always had been able to see right though him. "The ballet night."

She was waiting for him to answer. Angel stalled. "Um, gee, I don't know."

"It was only a few days ago" Cordy pointed out.

"Sorry. I really can't remember." He was lying of course. There wasn't a moment of that night he didn't remember, wouldn't remember forever.

She sighed, annoyed. "That's funny. Because, every since I walked out of here earlier, I've been remembering."

"Uh, what exactly have you been remembering?" Angel asked. If Cordelia had come here to give him more shit about the perky part of the night, Angel thought he just might jump out the window.

She glanced back to check on the baby, then focused her eyes on him. "Stuff you said. Stuff you almost said."

Angel thought that was pretty vague. "Like what?" He'd almost said a lot of things.

Cordy standing outside his room. "You look…"

Backstage at the ballet. "Kissing you…it's not something I can just…"

She cut into his reverie. "That stuff when we got home. About wanting it to be new. Starting at the beginning." Angel almost sighed in relief. He could explain that away. "And I'm pretty sure you may have called me 'the most beautiful girl you've ever seen" Cordy added. Three years in L.A., the woman still said pretty much anything she thought.

In an insane act of self-preservation, Angel tried to change the subject. "Oh, hey, where's Groo? Downstairs? Should I go down and say hi?"

"Groo's back at my place packing," Cordelia said succinctly. Angel inwardly cringed at that. Oh yes. They were going away together. To some remote desert island where she would drink a potion and com-shuck his brains out. He hated Groo.

"You know, that Groo, he's really a, a great guy. Really," Angel told her.

She looked at him closely, to see what he meant by that. "Yes, he is," she agreed. She paused, like she was trying to provoke him. Why couldn't she have just left that afternoon? Why did she have to come here and rub his face in it? She reached for Connor, walked over to the bassinet, and lay the groggy baby down, brushing a kiss on his forehead. "Groo would do anything for me," she said to Angel. "Cross dimensions. Fight for me."

"Any champion would," Angel told her quietly.

"You didn't," Cordy replied. She seemed to be searching him, gauging his reaction.

His whole body stood at attention, the hair on his arms rising. She couldn't be trying to say…they couldn't be having this conversation. Not now. With her about to leave with Groo. He didn't say anything. He wanted to run away.

"You didn't fight for me," Cordy continued, once she saw he had no plans to respond. "Angel, why'd you let me leave?"

"Huh?"

"Today," she said. "Why did you let me leave today?"

"Cor, I'm not sure I know what you're talking a—"

"Angel," Cordy said, clearly getting annoyed. She got right up in his face. "This," she said, motioning at the two of them. "Whatever is happening or not happening between us. It's not new. I'm slow, but I'm not stupid. I went home and thought about it and…This, it's been here for awhile now. Since before Groo and the ballet. Since before Connor was even born. Since…dammit, how long has this been going on?"

Angel shook his head. He had no idea what the answer to that was. "I—"

"Why did you let me leave?" This time, her voice sounded less confrontational. Less sure.

He looked down at her for a moment, then turned back to the window. "How could I not Cordelia?"

"What?"

Angel sighed unnecessarily. "He comes here and he can give you so much more than I, uh, I mean than anyone could." He turned around, knowing that he owed it to Cordelia to face her. "No one could love you like that." She raised one eyebrow, questioning the validity of that statement. He hurried on. "You deserve someone you can sit in the sun with."

She glanced down at her feet. When she looked back up, her eyes were flashing, bright with frustration. "You sanctimonious, self-righteous bastard." Angel's mouth fell open. Cordy was just getting warmed up. "Where do you get off deciding what I deserve? What I need? What I want?

"Cordy, I just—"

"You just what?" she cut in. "Let me ask you this Angel. Do you really think it matters, sitting in the sun with someone, if it's the WRONG someone?" She was breathing hard now. "You have this warped sense of, of duty and it, it just…it makes me want to tear my hair out. I know you so well. I know exactly why you think you did this. You eliminated my choice in this matter because you were afraid I'd choose you, right? You were afraid I'd sacrifice things I supposedly deserve and miss out because I'd choose you, right?"

He nodded slowly.

"WRONG," Cordelia told him forcefully. "You wanna know why you REALLY didn't give me a choice? Why you didn't even bother to inform me I had a choice between you and Groo? Because you were scared that I WOULDN'T choose you."

That wasn't true. It was because he had nothing to offer her and Groo could go out in the sun and….it wasn't true. He hadn't been worried that he would tell Cordelia how he felt and she would still leave. That, that so wasn't true. He started to tell her that. "That's not—"

"Yes Angel, it is," she said. She sounded weary now. She moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. "You were worried I wouldn't choose you. Because I'm not Darla, who wanted you enough to TURN you. I'm not Dru, who you literally created to worship you. I'm not Buffy, mooning after you like a school girl." She was starting to tick them off on her fingers now. "I don't like you in spite of myself like Kate did, I don't combine lust with a desire to hurt you like Lilah. And I don't have the big hero-worship like Fred." She bit her lip, as if she was trying to decide whether she would continue or not. "Because with me, you're not some drunken Irish boy, not Angelus, not my first love, not my enemy, and not my savior." She forced herself to stand. "With me, you're just you. Angel. And you didn't think I would choose Angel."

He let it soak in. Let the words roll over him and was chagrined when he started to agree. Not with everything. But she had a point.

"Would you have?" he asked hesitantly. "Would you have chosen me?"

"I, I don't know," Cordelia said. "You come with a ton of baggage. We work together—that's never a good idea. And you're not exactly stellar at communicating."

Angel nodded, understanding. She wouldn't have picked him even he had said that he— "

"Of course," she went on, "you're also my best friend, which is a plus. And you're pretty easy on the eyes."

Now Angel wasn't sure. She had managed to neatly avoid the question. And now she was reaching for her purse. She was leaving now?

"Where are you going?" he cried out.

"I have to go home and help Groo pack," Cordy said.

So that was the answer to the question. She was still going away with Groo. She wouldn't have chosen Angel. Even though he'd expected that, the pain rushed in, fresh and new.

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled. "I'm surprised you finished packing before him."

A small smile appeared on Cordelia's face. She walked back over to him and looked out the window, at the city behind him. Then she looked at him. "I'm not going anywhere. Groo's going home."

"What! But…how…I…oh." Angel was in shock. It couldn't be that all women were this confusing. She had to be a special case. Groo was leaving and she was staying and…she had chosen. He hadn't asked her to, and she'd still chosen. She'd chosen him. And…she was walking over to the door.

"Wait" he said, rushing over to her, finally moving away from the window. "What happens now?"

"I'm not sure," Cordy said and it was a little heartening he wasn't the only person worried about the future. "Part of that depends on you," she said.

"Are you saying that you want me and you to—"

"Start new." She ran a finger slowly over his lips. "At the beginning."

She leaned up, kissed him softly where her finger had just been, and walked away.

It was funny. She was walking away from him, just like she had earlier that day. But this time, it didn't leave him in a puddle of hurt and yearning. This time it made him smile. For the first time in a long time, he had hope. She was leaving and he didn't have much more than hope, but that was enough. He moved back towards the window and watched her leave the hotel. The stars seemed brighter than they had been twenty minutes ago. He laughed softly to himself.

From the crib, his son chimed in, a babble of baby sounds. Babies can sense things like that.


End