Rating: PG
Email: YankeesNAbercrombieChick@hotmail.com
Content: C/A angst, fluff, and romance.
Summary: Give and take what you can, while you can.
Spoilers: TVT, but nothing concrete.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon &
David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: To anybody who asks.
Notes: I got this idea for a fic about a week ago from my grandmother of all
people. No, she isn't an Angel fan, but she told me a personal story of hers
similar to this and I just incorporated our favorite characters into the mix.
Feedback: Is every fanfic writers only payment.
Lyrics are by Madonna. Taken from Rain.
by AbbyCadabra
The throbbing that
reverberated through her skull was incessant, pounding and pounding away in her
brain with no sign of relief over the horizon. Cordelia gingerly pressed the
pads of her fingertips to her right temple and worked them in a clockwise
motion. She and Angel rode home from a case in moderate silence, the only noise
that of the heavy rain beating down on the top of his GTX, something she was
grateful for. In her condition, she had no idea how much noise would be too much.
She willed the pain to go away through massages, prayers, threats—anything that
she thought might dull the knife blade edge of her vision-induced headache. But
it was no use, as she perfectly well knew. Nothing worked these days. Not the
aspirin, not the extra strength Tylenol, not the prescriptions: Diamox,
Vicodine, and whatever other Notworking-odine she downed like Jelly Beans.
She just had to outlast the headache, a trial of willpower in and of itself.
She had perfected the waiting time: one hour of insufferable throbbing, and
then a long nap, followed by roughly three hours of a blunt, though
gratifyingly distant, headache before it all faded into oblivion. But, usually,
once oblivion had been embraced, the Powers sent her yet another vision, and the
cycle would begin again.
This time, though, she missed out on that nap. The same nap that, after
tonight, she had officially designated as a necessary-no-matter-what step in
the process of healing properly. She concluded with a frown creasing her lips, glancing
towards her lap where her dirt and blood stained hands rested, that slaying
directly after undergoing a vision was just no longer a possibility.
Stealing a glimpse at Angel out of the corner of her eye, she remembered all
the times she used to be able to dust herself off after a vision and march out
the door with a crossbow, the whole time griping about dry cleaning bills and
wasted money spent on manicures. What she wouldn't give today to be able to
merely walk after a vision. She shook her head and a wry smile appeared,
hidden behind the fallen curtain of her mahogany hair, thinking, oh how the
youth is wasted on the young.
"Cordy," Angel began, licking his lips as he pondered how to begin. "You've
been acting… different lately. You're more, um, distant."
She didn't want to have this conversation right now, with her brain beating
like a drum made of jello in her head, and the only thing that kept her from
shooting Angel down at his first utterance was the soft hesitancy in his tone,
and the almost boyish way he shrugged his shoulders while he mused over what to
say.
"You've only been to work three days this week, and when you are there, it's
like your not." He slowed to a stop at a red light and took the opportunity to
turn around in his seat and face her. She looked so frail and open sitting
there with her hands lax at her sides and slumped in her seat; her normally
perfect posture dismissed for some much needed comfort.
Though her eyes where distant, he could tell from the glimmer of hurt in them
that he had her full attention. "You- you're beautiful, Cordy… But lately, you
haven't been paying much attention to your appearance. And it's shown. There're
bags under your eyes, which are bloodshot for whatever reason, and you're so
much paler than…" He trailed off, remembering the sparkle of excitement in her
beautiful hazel eyes, her perfect smile that made his silent heart feel as if
it'd skipped a beat, and the way she used to glow with the very life and energy
that he loved so much about her. But all that was lost to her now. "You just-
you look like death, Cordy," he finished, swallowing the lump of concern for
his best friend that had risen in his throat.
She found it funny that he mentioned the D-word, but was too moved by his
genuine concern and fear for her health to laugh. It was almost too much, being
here with him. The intimacy of the situation—just the two of them, alone, so
close, and no defenses, just the truth of raw emotions that could no longer
remain hidden—was touching enough to make her heart swell. And for a second she
almost forgot about the pain, about the future.
She looked at the stoplight above them, a fresh, shining green, signaling 'go,'
and found the courage she needed.
"I'm sick, Angel."
Though she refused to look at him, out of the corner of her eye she could see
his form hunch, and knew him well enough that she could picture in her mind the
look on his face: lips drawn taut, brow furrowed, eyes shut tight. She knew he
would be stricken, and for that reason avoided telling him the truth.
"The visions?" he asked, his voice breaking—something she was not expecting.
"The visions," she answered, thinking of a new way to torture the Powers,
should she ever encounter one, for what must have been the millionth time.
He sighed heavily and she heard him shift in his seat, the leather of his
duster rubbing against the similarly clothed seats. The light was red now—how
long had they been sitting here?—and Cordelia wondered, what was the penalty
for staying stopped at a red light too long?
"What do I have to do?" Angel demanded, positive that he could fix this. He
would do whatever it took, anything to keep Cordelia ali- here. With the
family. With him.
She shook her head, knowing he would want to fight this. And the truth was, a
part of her wanted him to fight it. That part of her wanted to cheat
death, wanted her to live forever and spit in the face of destiny.
But that part of her was a fool.
"There's nothing you can do."
His head snapped to the side and she could feel his eyes boring into her, like
he could strip away all her skin with just one look. His determination excited
the part of her that wanted to fight, but mostly it just saddened her even
further.
"There's always something, Cordelia," he said, his voice hard with purpose, but
she knew he was scared. The fear radiated off of him. "I can do something to
fix this. Kill somebody, fight something, talk to someone—"
"No, there really isn't," she said softly.
"God, Cordy, you can't just—"
"Why not, Angel?" she asked, turning to face him, suddenly angry. "Why can't I
just spend whatever time I have left in peace? Without having to fight or
kill—"
"I'll do it for you."
Something in his eyes made her stop. He was burning with the need to fix this,
to make her right again, and she could read it clearly all over his face. She
took pity on him, thinking ahead six months and knowing he would blame himself.
She knew he would take this hard, but she hadn't expected…
"I'll do anything, Cordy," he said gently, taking her hand in his, an action
that caused tears to sting the back of her eyes. "Anything to make you better.
You- I can't… be here without you."
"The Powers will send you another—"
"I don't need you for the visions. I need you for you."
He reached up to comb back a lock of her hair when she snatched his hand with a
strength that he hadn't thought she could muster in her condition. Her hold
didn't relent as she leant forward, their noses almost touching, and said,
"There. Isn't. Anything. You. Can. Do. Angel."
It was the determination in her eyes that struck him. Her pure resolve to do
anything to prove to him that he was helpless shown brightly in her irises,
blended perfectly with tears he hadn't noticed. He knew then, just knew,
that she was right. And the reality of the situation struck him with the force
of a supernova, and he half expected the sky to explode with this revelation.
Cordelia was dying.
And Angel was helpless to stop it.
He wanted to rage. Wanted to defy the gods and piss on every holy entity rendered
in their image and drink the blood of angels, no matter how much it burned. But
mostly he wanted to hold her until the Horsemen rode in and finished them all
off.
He wished he could just take away her pain and soak the burden of her so called
gift into his bloodstream, where it would shrivel and die from the cold found
there. And then Cordelia would be okay. She would live and dance and laugh and
love him all the while.
But he knew wishes were as useless as he was.
With defeat and anguish settling into his heart he looked away, shutting his
eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, because he knew that if they
started to fall now, they might never stop. He breathed in and out deeply for
what might have been seconds or hours, doing all he could to calm himself.
When he felt some semblance of composure he opened his eyes and was greeted
with the rain soaked windshield. Small drops rapidly beat down on the glass,
smoothly sliding downward until the windshield wipers rose and smeared them
across the glass. The rain gleamed fiery scarlet from the stoplight, the
street's only means of light.
He wanted to give her something that she would remember. Something that would
make her overlook what it felt like to know she was dying, and something that
he could keep once she was gone.
"Dance with me?"
She started at his request, the last thing she thought he would say. "What?"
He looked at her with a steady gaze. "My grandmother told me once that if you
dance in the rain with someone you love and make a wish… It comes true."
"You're kidding me."
He shook his head and she examined him closely, uncovering only sincerity in
his dark eyes.
"But it's raining!"
A corner of his mouth twitched upward in a mischievous smile, his eyebrows
lifting. "That's the whole point."
"Angel, no," she called as he opened his door and stepped into the rain. She
followed his form with her eyes as he walked around the car and stopped at the
passenger side door. In one fluent, chivalrous motion, he stooped down, opened
her door, and held his hand out to her.
"Dance with me."
Her eyes flickered over his face, dripping with rain and beaming with delight,
a sharp change from two minutes ago. Acting on impulse and maybe a little bit
on girlish whimsy, she gently placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be
lifted from the car seat.
The first drop that landed on her wrist sent shivers up her spine. As more
beads of rain connected with her body, goosebumps emerged on her arms and legs
and chills coursed over her skin.
His smile wide, he led her into the center of the deserted intersection. With
the beams from the headlights shining on them like a spotlight, he placed her
hand on his shoulder and grasped her other in his own, wrapping his free hand
around her waste.
Their eyes locked and for the moment they were still, simply focusing on one
another. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes and burned her image
into his memory, because, at this instant, she was the most beautiful sight he
had ever beheld. Her skin glistened with sweet rainwater, her eyes soft and
stripped of her defenses, and her smile heartfelt.
Never before had he wanted a woman so much.
With one skillful step, they began to dance. Their movements were slow and
effortless, dancing together in perfect step to the music that only they could
hear. As they moved in unison, Angel leading the way, a feeling of warmth began
to spread over his body, taking root deep in his chest.
They concentrated on one another, letting the world around them dim. She forgot
the pain in her head and the ache in her heart. Forgot that, in not even six
month's time, she would be dead. Forgot that she wasn't supposed to be doing
this, not with Angel, and not when there was hardly any time left.
Angel's chest tightened as Cordelia dropped his hand and looped her arms around
his neck, pressing her body into his and resting her head on his shoulder.
Instinctively, he hugged her smaller form tighter to his and gently kissed her
temple.
The rain beat down softly on the pair, cool on their skin and warm in their
hearts. The falling water washed away their concerns, and with it the blood and
wounds from a hard fought battle—and not necessary the one from her vision. The
falling droplets splashed in puddles of green light and were in perfect rhythm
with her heartbeat. Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.
He wanted to stay like that forever, holding her in his arms. He wanted to bury
himself in her lungs and breathe in her blood and be smothered. He just wanted her.
And he didn't want to let go.
"Did you make your wish?" he murmured against her skin.
To his intense disappointment, she pulled away. She let her arms fall from his
shoulders and gazed at the night sky. Her lashes fluttered against the rain as
she looked between cascading droplets towards the black clouds, wishing. She
lowered her head and looked at Angel, her eyes holding a thank you that would
be ruined by mere words.
He nodded, releasing her form and taking a step back. "What did you wish for?"
She shook her head, her wet hair clinging to the sides of her face. "Can't
tell."
He grinned. "Why not?"
"'Cause, silly, if I tell, then it won't come true."
He nodded again, his heart aching to take her into his arms once more.
"What did you wish for?" she asked as she began towards the car, wringing out
the bottom of her shirt. He seized her hand as she walked by, lightly pulling
her back, towards him. "Angel?"
He stood directly before her, heat and desire in his eyes. He raked her
dripping hair away from her eyes with tender fingertips, letting his hands
linger on her skin longer than necessary.
Her knees felt a little shaky and she knew that, if she were to look at her
hands, they would be trembling. "Angel?" she asked again, her voice timid, but
husky as well.
His hands immediately dropped, and he apologized. Cordelia nodded, confused and
fueled by Angel's behavior. She stepped around him and was nearly to the car
when he pulled her to him again, only this time more urgently. His hands cupped
her face and he drew his lips to hers without a second thought.
At the first touch of her soft, slightly wet lips against his, Angel felt a
surge of energy pass through his veins. His heart soared as he felt her swift
surrender, relaxing into his embrace and returning his kiss. She clasped the
back of his neck with her hand and drew him in closer to her, devouring more of
his loving lips. The kiss was slow and loving, yet still deep. Anything else
would have ruined their glorious moment together.
She pulled back and gazed at him, questioning, and searched his eyes for an
answer.
A smile crept up on his lips and slowly, almost painfully so, he brushed his
hand against hers, entwining their fingers.
"Now, I've nothing to wish for."
***********
Rain, feel it on my finger tips
Hear it on my window pane
Your love's coming down like
Rain, wash away my sorrow
Take away my pain
Your love's coming down like rain
When your lips are burning mine
And you take the time to tell me how you feel
When you listen to my words
And I know you've heard, I know it's real
Rain is what this thunder brings
For the first time I can hear my heart sing
Call me a fool but I know I'm not
I'm gonna stand out here on the mountain top
Till I feel your
Rain, feel it on my finger tips
Hear it on my window pane
Your love's coming down like
Rain, wash away my sorrow
Take away my pain
Your love's coming down like rain
The End.