Title: Relinquish
Author: Cassandra Mulder
Rating: PG
E-mail: cassandra_mulder@yahoo.com
Written: June 3, 2002 - February 17, 2003
Spoilers: Heavy on the mid-season 3. "Sleep Tight", "Forgiving", "Double or Nothing"
Classification: C/A angst
Disclaimer: I don't own "Angel" or any of the characters. They all belong to the soul suckers at Mutant Enemy, and the I'm sure very nice people at the WB and Fox. No infringement is intended.
Summary: Connor's been kidnapped, and Cordelia is home. But can she deal with the consequences of her vacation, especially when it comes to Angel?
Website: Bound ()
A/N: If that written date shocks you, join the club. I wrote the bulk of this shortly before I moved last year, and it's been sitting in my notebook unfinished for over eight months. I found it the other day, and decided I could finish it. These events were awhile ago, but it's generally impossible to keep up with current storylines anyway, if anyone would want to.
This is also seriously a new style for me. I don't even know if it works, or if it's any good,
but you'll notice there are no names mentioned. The word 'she' and so on is probably overused, but this is just how it came out of my head. I'm always game to take a stab at something new. Feedback, as always, is appreciated.
****************************************************************************
She walks into the room unnoticed, her books and magazines clutched tightly to her chest.
She takes the same chair she has two days before, and quietly curls up, opening her novel and pretending to read. But discreetly she peeks through her lashes at the figure before her.
He might as well be made of marble these days, as much as he moves. He sits on the end
of the bed most times, staring out the window but not really seeing anything.
Her first thought when she saw him was that he was in shock, but she was almost certain you had to be alive for that. He never even flinched as she put her arms around him while pathetically trying to express her regret.
Inside these walls it is deathly quiet, and sometimes her thoughts are screaming so loudly against her skull she's sure he'll hear them.
She's been mentally beating herself up since they told her. The baby is gone, one of her
best friends had betrayed them and almost been killed, and now her best friend has been reduced to nothing but stunned silence, while those closest to him are afraid to go near
him.
She tortures herself with different scenarios every day - things she might have been able
to do had she been there. Maybe she would've known something, seen something, noticed something was terribly wrong. Going over the details as her friends can remember them,
she thinks she would've sensed something wrong, though it's hard to say after the fact.
It doesn't matter now. It's over and done. His child is gone, and there's no way to bring him back. No way to heal the man she was supposed to be able to help.
She can't help but feel she failed him, failed the child that was almost her own. She can't
do anything to save either of them now. Her visions, her powers, they were useless for
what really mattered.
She tells him little to nothing of her guilt and regret. Adding her burden to his own would
do nothing for her conscience. Their grief is shared, and that's all that needs to be known.
But there are times when she wants to get on her knees before him and beg his forgiveness. Even though she's almost certain he doesn't blame her for any of it. He sent her away and she went.
She shudders at the thought of having fun in Mexico, when all of her friends were going through so much. Why hadn't they called her?
Why? Why? Why? That one little word runs on a loop in her brain sometimes to the point
she thinks she'll go insane.
She knows she, no they, will have to find a way to put it behind them, to move on. It won't be today, it won't be tomorrow.
She's seen this man sitting silently across from her overcome things that would break most mere mortals into a million pieces. She just doesn't see him overcoming this.
He had been so happy. He'd actually had something he never dreamed would be possible
for him. But like everything else that had ever been good for him, it had been snatched away.
One day she can no longer stand to sit quietly by with her books and vapid fashion magazines, watching him suffer.
She crosses the room to where he's sitting on the floor, propped against his bed.
Everything that has happened, all that she's felt since returning home wells up inside of her as she looks at him.
Wordlessly, she kneels down in front of him, then drops to her knees and takes him in her arms.
She is sobbing, and he is silent and still. She is all but in his lap, their bodies close
together, her arms wound around him. As if she is trying to soak up his pain, she clings to him desperately, begging his forgiveness without knowing it.
She doesn't know how long she's been there, doesn't care to guess, when she feels a tear fall onto the nape of her neck. She looks up, her face tearstained and red, and sees that
his face is now mirroring her own.
Tears stream down his ashen face as she cups a hand to his cheek to try to stop them.
He buries his face in her neck, finally putting his arms around her.
He breaks, letting out all the pain that's been building up inside him. She's never seen
him cry, not like this. The sobs coming from deep within him and mixed with her own are shaking her to the core.
He lifts his head to look at her, her hand still buried in his hair, and she knows without a word that he doesn't hold it against her. She knows the only one he blames is himself for
not seeing what was going on in front of him.
In her mind, she knows it doesn't matter now. He never saw betrayal coming from within, and neither would she.
All they have is each other now, clinging, trying to quiet their desperate sobs. They both know they can't hide out in here forever, but just for a little longer they can draw strength from each other and try to heal. Try to relinquish the enormous pain that consumes them.
Together, she knows that they can. That they will.
Finis
Author: Cassandra Mulder
Rating: PG
E-mail: cassandra_mulder@yahoo.com
Written: June 3, 2002 - February 17, 2003
Spoilers: Heavy on the mid-season 3. "Sleep Tight", "Forgiving", "Double or Nothing"
Classification: C/A angst
Disclaimer: I don't own "Angel" or any of the characters. They all belong to the soul suckers at Mutant Enemy, and the I'm sure very nice people at the WB and Fox. No infringement is intended.
Summary: Connor's been kidnapped, and Cordelia is home. But can she deal with the consequences of her vacation, especially when it comes to Angel?
Website: Bound ()
A/N: If that written date shocks you, join the club. I wrote the bulk of this shortly before I moved last year, and it's been sitting in my notebook unfinished for over eight months. I found it the other day, and decided I could finish it. These events were awhile ago, but it's generally impossible to keep up with current storylines anyway, if anyone would want to.
This is also seriously a new style for me. I don't even know if it works, or if it's any good,
but you'll notice there are no names mentioned. The word 'she' and so on is probably overused, but this is just how it came out of my head. I'm always game to take a stab at something new. Feedback, as always, is appreciated.
****************************************************************************
She walks into the room unnoticed, her books and magazines clutched tightly to her chest.
She takes the same chair she has two days before, and quietly curls up, opening her novel and pretending to read. But discreetly she peeks through her lashes at the figure before her.
He might as well be made of marble these days, as much as he moves. He sits on the end
of the bed most times, staring out the window but not really seeing anything.
Her first thought when she saw him was that he was in shock, but she was almost certain you had to be alive for that. He never even flinched as she put her arms around him while pathetically trying to express her regret.
Inside these walls it is deathly quiet, and sometimes her thoughts are screaming so loudly against her skull she's sure he'll hear them.
She's been mentally beating herself up since they told her. The baby is gone, one of her
best friends had betrayed them and almost been killed, and now her best friend has been reduced to nothing but stunned silence, while those closest to him are afraid to go near
him.
She tortures herself with different scenarios every day - things she might have been able
to do had she been there. Maybe she would've known something, seen something, noticed something was terribly wrong. Going over the details as her friends can remember them,
she thinks she would've sensed something wrong, though it's hard to say after the fact.
It doesn't matter now. It's over and done. His child is gone, and there's no way to bring him back. No way to heal the man she was supposed to be able to help.
She can't help but feel she failed him, failed the child that was almost her own. She can't
do anything to save either of them now. Her visions, her powers, they were useless for
what really mattered.
She tells him little to nothing of her guilt and regret. Adding her burden to his own would
do nothing for her conscience. Their grief is shared, and that's all that needs to be known.
But there are times when she wants to get on her knees before him and beg his forgiveness. Even though she's almost certain he doesn't blame her for any of it. He sent her away and she went.
She shudders at the thought of having fun in Mexico, when all of her friends were going through so much. Why hadn't they called her?
Why? Why? Why? That one little word runs on a loop in her brain sometimes to the point
she thinks she'll go insane.
She knows she, no they, will have to find a way to put it behind them, to move on. It won't be today, it won't be tomorrow.
She's seen this man sitting silently across from her overcome things that would break most mere mortals into a million pieces. She just doesn't see him overcoming this.
He had been so happy. He'd actually had something he never dreamed would be possible
for him. But like everything else that had ever been good for him, it had been snatched away.
One day she can no longer stand to sit quietly by with her books and vapid fashion magazines, watching him suffer.
She crosses the room to where he's sitting on the floor, propped against his bed.
Everything that has happened, all that she's felt since returning home wells up inside of her as she looks at him.
Wordlessly, she kneels down in front of him, then drops to her knees and takes him in her arms.
She is sobbing, and he is silent and still. She is all but in his lap, their bodies close
together, her arms wound around him. As if she is trying to soak up his pain, she clings to him desperately, begging his forgiveness without knowing it.
She doesn't know how long she's been there, doesn't care to guess, when she feels a tear fall onto the nape of her neck. She looks up, her face tearstained and red, and sees that
his face is now mirroring her own.
Tears stream down his ashen face as she cups a hand to his cheek to try to stop them.
He buries his face in her neck, finally putting his arms around her.
He breaks, letting out all the pain that's been building up inside him. She's never seen
him cry, not like this. The sobs coming from deep within him and mixed with her own are shaking her to the core.
He lifts his head to look at her, her hand still buried in his hair, and she knows without a word that he doesn't hold it against her. She knows the only one he blames is himself for
not seeing what was going on in front of him.
In her mind, she knows it doesn't matter now. He never saw betrayal coming from within, and neither would she.
All they have is each other now, clinging, trying to quiet their desperate sobs. They both know they can't hide out in here forever, but just for a little longer they can draw strength from each other and try to heal. Try to relinquish the enormous pain that consumes them.
Together, she knows that they can. That they will.
Finis