Doyle heard him but the collector seemed to be a million
miles away. The world was dim and gray
around him. He could feel the warm
wetness of his own blood around him as he lay on his back staring up at the
stars. His wound throbbed with a
pulsating pain that filled his whole body.
He hurt so much it was hard to keep breathing. He knew he had to get help.
Cordy. She would help him. He struggled to push himself up with his
arms. His hands slipped in the slick
blood around him. Eventually he pulled
himself to a sitting position. Then
moaning with effort he stood up. The
world swam and he grabbed onto a street light for support. He staggered forward, head hanging, feet
shuffling, and leaning on every streetlight, telephone pole, and mailbox along
the way.
Cordelia
stepped out of the shower and toweled off.
She pulled on a T-shirt and heard a noise at the door. Why would someone be knocking so late, it had
to be at least 3 in the morning. She
pulled on her sweatpants and made an irritated noise as she went to see who was
at the door. "This better not be Angel
wanting to go fight more evil." She
muttered. As she walked across her
bedroom she could feel Dennis pushing her towards the door. "What Dennis? Since when did you get all Lassie?" She asked the ghost as she finished crossing the living room and
reached the front door. She opened the
door and her mouth dropped open. Her
mind screamed "Oh My God". Doyle stood
leaning against her door. Clutching the frame was a better description and he
was loosing his grip. Blood was everywhere. "Doyle" she was able to gasp as he
actually lost his grip and fell into her. She put her arms under his to hold
him up. His head rested against her
shoulder, he was unconscious. Luckily, he wasn't that heavy. She felt his limp body pressed against her
and drenching her T-shirt with his blood.
She pulled him to her bed and laid him down. Doyle's body was so still,
Cordelia couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. She pressed her fingers against his neck. Under her fingers she could feel how cold
and sweaty his skin was. Despite the fact his body was cold, he also seemed to
have a roaring fever. His skin was so
white, paler than usual it looked positively bloodless. His skin looked bloodless but there was
blood everywhere. Blood on the
sidewalk, on the steps to her apartment, on her doorstep, on her clothes,
everywhere but where it should be.
There was so much spilt blood she still wasn't sure where it was coming
from. Blood soaked his shirt. It was one of those ugly button up, big
collared shirts that she hated.
Cordelia didn't know what to do.
She had taken required first aid classes in high school, but how much
did she really remember? She gingerly
unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his blood smeared chest and stomach. She could see the deep gash, about 5 inches
long on the upper right side of his stomach. Someone had stabbed him, a debt
collector had caught up with him at last.
Grabbing a shirt off the floor she pressed it to the wound. She applied pressure to the gapping tear in
the Irishman's side. He moaned a little
at her treatment. The shirt was now
drenched in crimson, she grabbed another and pressed it on top of the first
one. She was near tears; the idea that
Doyle could very likely die here in her bed was overwhelming and
horrifying. Cordelia kept pressing
against the lesion. She needed help; she had to call an ambulance. Could she
take him to a hospital? He was half
demon, could he even go to a hospital?
She thought wildly of all the times she had tended to a wounded
Doyle. If he could just go to a
hospital, why did they always fix him up at the office. "Get the phone Dennis," she ordered. The phone came floating into the
bedroom. "Call Angel" the ghost pressed
the numbers and held the phone up to her ear.
She heard the dull brill of the phone ringing. She looked down at Doyle again; the stain on the shirt had
stopped spreading. Cordelia hoped that meant he had clotted. The phone rang for the 7th time
and she heard the click of Angel picking up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Angel,
It's Doyle.." and she felt the tears filling her eyes. "He's hurt, someone stabbed him"
"What??!"
tears were rolling down her cheeks
"God Angel,
He's lost so much blood"
"Where are
you?"
"My
apartment"
"I'll be
right there" then he hung up.
