Disclaimer : The mighty Joss Whedon and the almost as mighty David Greenwalt own all.
Thanks for the feedback so far, I admit to being shallow, positive feedback spurs me on!!! This is the second chapter, still rollicking along slowly, not a lot of action, more of an analysis of Cordy and Angel. The initial chapters, are I think, initially Cordy centred but the main man will have his own part to play a little later on….
As always, please let me know what you think. But now onto chapter two of
Body Armour.
Take care of her.
If taking care of Cordelia Chase consisted of watching the girl sit by the window while she lost her dull gaze in the L.A. skyline then Wesley mused, as he stepped a little closer to his young colleague, he was honouring Angel's earlier request with remarkable industriousness. Deciding that a more pro-active approach was perhaps in order, the ex Watcher forced a polite cough, "Would you like some tea Cordelia?"
Silence answered him. Cordelia sat in perfect stillness, her inert form casting a slender silhouette on the adjoining wall. She stared into the night, her thoughts evidently lost in the city beyond.
Easing closer, Wesley placed a timid hand upon her shoulder, "Cordelia?"
Cordelia stirred from her reverie and pulling her eyes from the twinkling city night, she turned to him with slow grace, her face darkened with a familiar unease, a quiet unrest which would only be appeased Wesley knew, by Angel's safe return. Another vision had sent the vampire racing into the murky depths of downtown L.A., leaving his youngest associate gripped by hidden anxiety for his safety. She had sat wordlessly, her thoughts far away, tension seizing her small frame. The ex Watcher had spent many such nights watching over her in recent weeks, an unspoken agreement between he and Angel acknowledging that Cordelia mustn't be left alone after a vision. And so, night after night, the vampire entrusted the trembling, vision wrenched girl to Wesley's care with one simple instruction.
Take care of her.
Easier said than done, Wesley thought ruefully as Cordelia lifted those hazel eyes to meet his own. Apart from offering an aspirin and countless cups of tea, there seemed little he could do but watch over her. The vision would fade and the pair were left, the ex Watcher reading, the Seer silent and motionless, her entire being stressed with fear. A fear that was, Wesley often thought with a sharp unbidden longing, a testament to the friendship between she and Angel. Somehow, Wesley had grown accustomed to the warm relationship that existed between the sombre vampire and tempestuous ex-May Queen. They might and frequently did engage in verbal battles about the most banal and trivial of things, Cordelia more often than not exasperating the 246 year old vampire with her own unique and often questionable logic. Wesley had watched Cordelia tease their employer, the one time scourge of Europe and current terror of demon lowlife in L.A about his mono-themed wardrobe and rather remarkable brooding abilities. He had watched the same vampire silence Cordelia with a single glance, leaving the teenager to mutter darkly about the burdens of working with over-sensitive dead people.
And yet in the midst of such battles and dramas, Wesley had recognised the deep regard each held for the other. They cared for each other with the anxiety of family and while Cordelia might scoff at the idea of being a mother hen, her tender medical administrations to the oft-battered vampire, her habit of checking upon her friend first thing every morning and countless other subtle attentions all belayed otherwise. Angel was equally attentive, much to Wesley's initial astonishment. In Sunnydale, Wesley had always regarded the vampire with something akin to fearful awe. The man had always seemed so distant and remote, his detached presence silently intimidating. He remained an almost shadowed figure on the fringe of those surrounding the Slayer, watching and listening, occasionally offering his own thoughts on whatever dire crisis threatened. Wesley had paid a great deal of attention to the vampire in those early days, keen to determine the depth of the relationship between he and Buffy. The quiet affection, the private exchange of intimate glance, the fire with which he defended the Slayer in battle, all served to convince Wesley of Angel's intentions. He had found the vampire's remorse admirable, his pensive thinking impressive.
Since his arrival in L.A, Wesley had glimpsed the depths of the man, chiefly through his relationship with Cordelia. The vampire who had been to Hell, who had faced The First, the Mayor and countless other terrifying beings thought nothing of cooking hearty breakfasts for Cordelia, or collecting her from her various auditions with minimal notice. Angel had guided her through these early visions with an unwavering care that couldn't help but impress and touch the Englishman.
Just as he was impressed now, by the depth of concern settled in Cordelia's eyes, her expression softening with apology. "Hmm? Sorry Wes, I was daydreaming." Her gaze drifted back toward the large window, "Or I guess in this case, nightdreaming."
Wesley dropped into the chair opposite. "Perhaps," he suggested, propping his feet upon the edge of her book-strewn desk, "You should be sleeping."
A smile flickered on her lips. "Perhaps" Cordelia agreed softly. She shook herself as though to dispel the dark concerns haunting her troubled thoughts, and lifted her head, "Did he call in yet?"
Languishing back with a lethargic sigh, Wesley shrugged with deliberate calm. "Not yet. I shouldn't worry thought" he continued casually, drumming his fingers on the leathered side of his seat, rhythm in beat with his heart, "Angel may have some difficulty locating the demon. Your directions were a little vague."
Cordelia bit her lip. "I know," she said, quiet despair lacing her tone. "The exact address was in the vision somewhere, I just couldn't quite pull it out."
Wesley cursed himself in dismay. Make her feel inadequate, you bloody idiot. "Cordelia," he hurried to correct his mistake, "I wasn't trying to imply you were at fault, I merely meant to say…"
Cordelia waved a dismissive hand. "Oh God, I know that Wes. Don't mind me. I'm just tired and cranky and feeling sorry for myself is all."
"You should go home, you know, you look awful."
Tugging dishevelled waves of dark hair into a tight ponytail, Cordelia grimaced, "Gee Wes," she smoothed her hands over her face, smothering a yawn, "You sure have that British charm thing down to a tee. Talk about making a girl feel good."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Wesley said patiently, "It's just that these visions from the Powers that Be are still relatively new to you. You're bound to find them tiring." He leaned forward, his inimitable gentleness sparking in his grey gaze, "They will get easier Cordelia, I promise."
Cordelia resisted the sudden urge to snap, to ask him just how images of death, murder, evil and the darkest of mayhem could ever possibly be anticipated with anything other than sickening dread. If it were anyone else, she might have said just that. But Wesley, with his kind unwavering honesty and indomitable sense of chivalry didn't deserve that. Swallowing hard, she exhaled a painful breath, nodding with a tight smile.
"You're right Wes, I'll be like perfect vision girl in a month. And I will head home. Once I know Angel is safe."
"I am," a familiar voice calmly announced from the main office entrance.
The pair jumped in unison and turned to find their employer hovering in the doorway, blood splattered sword in hand. Angel nodded absent-mindedly at them, his eyes scouring the office, hunting. Spying the umbrella holder, the vampire moved toward it and leaning the sword against the metallic bucket, he stepped back gingerly, avoiding any contact with the red liquid staining the weapon. Satisfied that it would stand steady, Angel turned around, satisfaction relaxing his frame as he jostled his duster off.
"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" The vampire wandered toward the coffee machine and inspected the tins lined neatly beside it, frowning as he queried, "We're out?"
"No I bought some this morning." Cordelia sprang to her feet with renewed energy, trepidation fading at the sight of her friend, safely home with all limbs intact, "It's behind the machine. Is that yours?" She pointed to the sword.
Snaking an arm around the back of the coffee machine, Angel spared her an indignant look. "Of course it's mine. Since when do I take trophies home from battle?"
Cordelia managed to look saint-like and smug all at once. "I meant the blood. I thought you might be hurt."
"Oh," Angel answered sheepishly, fully aware of how Cordelia enjoyed spontaneous fits of martyrdom, "Well, no it's not mine. All the other guys."
"That's good becau…"
"Tough battle?" Wesley interrupted saving his employer from another sanctimonious comment from Cordelia, ignoring the glare he received from said individual. The girl viewed tormenting the vampire as a legitimate hobby at times, and lo and behold those who interfered in her pursuit of the sport.
Angel shot Wesley a look of quiet gratitude as he resumed his search for the coffee bag. "Tough enough," he answered, his teeth gritted as he tugged the bag from its convoluted entanglement in the machine wires. "It wasn't the brightest guy though, that always helps."
A sudden memory flashed in Cordelia's mind, that same demon towering over the helpless tramp, its menace deadly. She shuddered, feeling it close.
Angel caught the movement. He pulled himself upright. "Cordelia?"
Cordelia stood motionless, her eyes strangely riveted by the bloodied sword behind him. The vampire exchanged a worried glance with Wesley and the Englishman joined him in taking a tentative step closer to the young girl. Angel sidestepped, blocking her view of the weapon and waited patiently as she raised confused eyes to meet his own.
"Cordelia?" he said again, unsure as to whether she was actually seeing him.
She smiled abruptly, artificial luminosity forced onto her face. "I'm fine, just being total wig girl tonight. Just ask poor Wes."
Angel surveyed her, silent weariness consuming him. She seemed to slip farther and farther away from him each day, her presence fading into a mere ghost of the laughing young woman he remembered designing the agency emblem. So much had happened since then.
What if she can't find her way back?
"Cordelia" he began quietly, slow determination firing within him.
I won't allow her to stay this way. I won't allow it.
The telephone began a shrill ringing and Cordelia turned toward it with a low groan, "I swear if this is Giles again wanting me to look up some dusty old book…"
She switched to what she called her "pull em in" voice. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless, oh hi Serena. Oh my gosh, I had forgotten, no it's fine, I can make it,"
A warm smile jumping to her lips, Cordelia launched into an animated discussion with the caller and taking advantage of her distracted state, Angel leaned over to the Englishman.
"Has she been all right tonight?"
Wesley grimaced, "More or less as usual. Quiet and a little despondent."
"I have to go" Cordelia interrupted cheerily, replacing the receiver. She hovered over her desk, plucking a stray item here and there to fling into her bag. "It's Emily's birthday and I completely forgot so I have to run, see if I can pick her up something on the way."
Deciding there and then that the walking paradox that was Cordelia Chase was beyond his comprehension, Angel forced a bright expression onto his face. "That's great," he said enthusiastically, "You should go out, have fun. Be young and foolish. No don't be foolish. Be young and safe. Safe is good. Let me give you a ride."
"No thanks," Cordelia shifted manuscripts crumbled with age aside in her hunt for gloss lipstick. "Serena is picking me up around the block." She reached for the filo-fax and flipped through it, discreetly tugging her work-id free. "I have your cell-phone number if I need anything."
Flashing a quick smile at the two men, Cordelia looped her bag overshoulder. "See you two tomorrow then."
She swung the door open and was gone, taking the briefly vibrant atmosphere with her. Angel curved back on one heel and eyed Wesley hopefully, "So maybe, she's all right? She just needs to spend more time with her friends and do things that people her age do. I mean maybe," the vampire turned and paced back toward his abandoned coffee mug, "Maybe, I'm just overreacting."
Wesley jammed the door shut, his heart sinking. He had been reluctant to admit to concerns about Cordelia, fearing he would fuel Angel's fears unnecessarily. After all, he didn't have anything concrete or conclusive to offer.
Don't you?
The recent nights he had spent with her, her quiet form huddled away in deep thought. The faint whiff of scotch smothered by breath mints in the mornings. The stifled personality of a young lady he was proud to name a friend. Her sudden interminable chatter when Angel appeared, knowing perhaps that unlike Wesley, the vampire would push, get close.
She panics when we get too close.
"I think" Wesley said finally, "That she would very much like us to believe that everything is all right, when in fact" His grey gaze met dark and he saw his own anxiety mirrored there, "In fact, I fear Cordelia is quite lost at the moment."
Cordelia watched as Emily lurched on unsteady feet. Her friend swayed, her hands grappling for support.
"Where are you going Em?" Cordelia asked, impressed by her friend's efforts at mobility. She was perfectly confident that she would be unable for similar exertions.
Clutching her seat, Emily tilted around. She leaned down and inspected the line of empty shot glasses that curved around the circular bar table, a testament to the night's alcohol consumption.
"Looks like we are all out," the pretty blonde declared with a slight shrug.
Bleary eyed, Serena squinted at the table. "We drank all that?"
"And then some," Cordelia agreed with a shaky nod of her head, "Remember we figured drinking in single numbers was an omen that Em wouldn't get next weeks audition?"
Serena crumpled in a fit of uncharacteristic mirth, her howls attracting bemused smiles from the nearby tables. "We should stop," she finally managed, "Can you imagine the headaches we'll have tomorrow?"
A sudden memory of Doyle, crippled by an eye-burning headache, flashed in Cordelia's mind.
Doyle
A sudden grief ripped through her. I miss you. The thought almost blinded her.
"Cordy?"
Emily was peering at her with concern.
Screw it, Cordelia decided, time to forget. She indicated toward the bar.
"Go on then Em. Doubles all round."
Cordelia hid a smile behind her glass of water as she watched Emily battle the advances of a persistently amorous male. She was failing miserably when one scowl from Serena sent the poor unfortunate scuttling in the opposite direction. It would, Cordelia mused, take a very brave man to face off with Serena.
"Not up to dancing?"
She whipped her head around and found another had slid beside her on the couch.
"Jarod. Nice to be sneaked up on again."
He relinquished a careful smile as he reclined back, his arm resting on a rather tattered looking cushion. "I saw you sitting here alone. I thought, you might like some company."
Cordelia shrugged, her coolness deliberate. "Oh come on Jarod. I'm sure you know exactly what I like, seeing as you know me so well and all."
"Let me guess," Jarod said gravely, "You're generally nicer when you take happy pills?"
Her eyes widened with sudden indignation. "I'll have you know that I am considered to be a very nice…"
Mirth swam in his blue gaze, teasing her and rather than finishing her retort, Cordelia found herself grinning.
"All right," she admitted bashfully, toying with a strand of hair dipping over her face, "So maybe happy pills make me a little nicer."
Jarod shrugged innocently, as though his guess had been one of wild abandon. He smoothed a hand over the velvet cushion, tugging the small tassels apart, so that the strings of thread lay spilt and open. "But, you're not feeling quite as relaxed tonight?
"I'm not under the influence of anything if that's what you mean." Cordelia eased her neck from side to side, a small sheepish smile curving her lips, "At least," she amended a little guiltily, "Not anything illegal." The dark-haired girl raised the glass and sipped on her water, savouring the refreshing coolness. "And before you subject me to twenty questions again, how about you answer some of mine?"
Jarod abandoned the cushion and straightened, peeling his hands apart to spread them outright, "Work away."
Cordelia lowered the glass onto the stained beer mat. She turned back to him, evaluating him carefully. "I still can't place you so what's with the mysterious you know me thing?" Have we been in a drama class or something?"
"Or something"
Cordelia's eyes darkened. "Not an answer and I'm not playing this game anymore. Either you tell me how you know me or I leave."
Jarod heaved a long breath, "Cordelia, I wasn't lying that night. I know you." His hand resumed its caress of the cushion.
She waited in impatient silence. "Look," she said finally, "It's a bit freaky when somebody claims to know you but they're not willing to tell you how or why."
"I know what you are" Jarod broke in, his tone enveloped with sudden resolve, "I know what Doyle was and I know what Angel is."
Cordelia stared at him for a half breath, a thousand terrible thoughts flitting through her stunned mind. She backed away, flinging a hand under the table for her bag. "I tell you what," she struggled to control the tremble in her voice, forcing herself to concentrate on wrapping her fingers around the strap of her leather bag, "You stay the hell away from me, or you'll get to know Angel really well."
"Cordelia, I wasn't lying either when I said you were one of us. I'm just like you."
She raised horrified eyes to meet his blue stare. "Stop saying that."
"It's the truth."
"I'm nothing like you. You talk about me like I'm a category, a, a…"
"Seer?" Jarod finished for her, quietly.
Cordelia sat, stricken. He knew. Oh God, he really knew. Her fingers stilled. "Who the hell are you?"
"I told you, I'm just like you." Jarod reached for her water and stealing a long sip, he moistened his lips with the liquid. He rested the glass on the bare edge of the table, his finger tracing its outline. "I'm a Seer, Cordelia. I know what it's like to have these visions that just rip you apart from the inside out. I know how it feels to lose every inch of who you are in someone else's torment."
Cordelia's eyes flashed. "So you say. But how the hell do you know about me? I don't advertise who I am, what happens to me."
"Angel's the big name in town Cordy. Everyone knows who he is and since a couple of weeks ago, what his Seer is worth."
Cordelia flinched at the mention of the auction. "What do you want from me?" She ground the words out, a dark hurt growing inside.
He just sits there and talking about my life, full of pretty words.
He doesn't know anything.
"I just want to be a friend Cordelia. We are alike, you and I."
Cordelia turned away and stared at the heaving dance floor in grim silence. She collected herself slowly and turned back to him, icy cold. "Thanks, but I have all the friends I need."
"Sure," Jarod agreed pleasantly, " A 245 year old vampire and an Englishman, both of whom think you're flighty and frivolous and all together too damn immature for the job you've been given from the mighty powers above. The same guys who don't understand what these visions do to you, what they drive you to."
"You don't know anything about Angel or Wes" Cordelia contested hotly.
"And they don't know anything about you," Jarod rejoined, his tone equally heated. He rose and slipped a hand around her wrist, pulling her to her feet. "But I do Cordy. I know exactly what it's like to feel that damn low. To see those horrors. And I can help you through it. You think you can't control what you can see, how you see it. You think you're just a tool? You're much more than that. The Powers that Be need you. So that makes you the strong one. You're the one with the power here Cordelia. It's up to you how you use it."
Cordelia slowly freed her wrist from his clasp. She regarded him in momentary bewilderment, allowing his words to reverberate through her mind, the meaning sinking deep within. His promise of clarity lured her and knowing she couldn't, wouldn't leave with questions plaguing her forever, Cordelia slumped back down, surrender in the movement.
"I believe you," she said simply.
"Here we are then."
Jarod scanned the property appreciatively. "It looks like a nice place."
"It is." Cordelia looked ruefully toward the door, "I would invite you in, it's just that my friends are staying over and", a small frown wrinkled her forehead, "Hang on, I take that back. I don't want you thinking I invite strange people in, not that you're strange but…"
"I understand" Jarod promised, amusement sunk in his features, "But you have my number, I hope you use it."
Cordelia clicked a silver heel against the ground. "You think I should?"
Jarod surveyed her, his gaze achingly steady. "You don't want to? After everything I've told you about your visions?"
"About your visions," Cordelia corrected him. She exhaled deeply, her gaze falling to her stiletto garbed feet. "Everything you told me tonight sounded great, I mean that you can control the visions, dictate what you want to see, when you see it but maybe that's not for me. I'm not good with responsibility. Handing the visions over to Angel, maybe that's what works for me."
"But you don't" Jarod interjected with that smooth confidence.
Cordelia's head whipped up. "Don't what?"
"You don't hand the visions over to Angel. You pass him the information, enough so he can go kill the demon but you're left with the horrors, the nightmares, and the dread. He can't help you with that. He doesn't even try."
"That's not true" Cordelia protested immediately, an old loyalty springing to the fore. "Whatever you know about these visions, you know nothing about Angel and I. About our friendship. I can talk to him about anything."
"So, you have told him about me?" Jarod held her gaze, his eyes demanding.
"There was nothing to tell, I didn't want to…"
"So, you'll tell him about me tomorrow?"
Cordelia lapsed into silence, her heart heavy. "No," she managed finally, unsure of everything except that she wouldn't tell Angel any of this.
Why not?
Because Angel wouldn't like it. Cordelia knew that for certain. She could just picture the countless questions and dark suspicions of endless possibilities. Best case scenario, Angel would insist on meeting Jarod, worst case, he'd somehow manage to make sure she kept away from Jarod.
Angel can't bully you like that, some rebellious part of her mind decided.
He can damn well try though.
Uncertain as she was of everything else, Cordelia was adamant in the darkest corners of her thumping heart that she couldn't stay away from Jarod. Not after everything he had told her, promised, the quietness of him that pulled her near.
She swallowed, her throat gratingly dry. "I'm not going to tell him."
"If it's worth anything, I think you're right not to tell him anything, just yet. Have a think about things, make up your own mind, independently. Its been a while since you made a decision for yourself" Jarod said softly, "I'll leave it to you to contact me this time."
With a small smile, he circled a turn and walked away, his step firm. Cordelia suppressed a sudden urge to follow, to beg him to show her all he had promised. Instead, she stuck her hand in her pocket and fingered a small slip of paper on which he had scribbled his number. Clutching it tightly, Cordelia watched as he disappeared into the night, stealing hope with him.
The voice slammed her into reluctant consciousness, pulling her from the comfort of deep slumber. Deep deep sleep.
"Cordy, please just look at me. You can do that much right?"
Cordelia groaned as she struggled to comply with what felt like an impossible request. Forcing her eyes to open, she immediately winced beneath the heavy weight that settled directly behind them. Pulsing, throbbing weight. The very notion of moving a limb seemed an insurmountable task. A dry parching thirst cramped her mouth.
Hangover.
"Oh God, please just kill me now" she mumbled into the pillow.
"I don't know about God, but your boss might. He just called to remind you that you were supposed to be at the office an hour ago."
"Angel called?" Cordelia's voice asked mournfully from the depths of the feather pillow, "He knows I'm still in bed?"
Serena nodded gingerly, a sudden headache dulling her own senses. She lifted cold fingers to her temples and soothed the throbbing pain with light circular motions.
"Yeah, I said you weren't feeling well but that you were on your way in. You want me to call him back, tell him you won't make it in today?"
The form in the bed somehow managed to shake her head. "No way." With tremendous effort, Cordelia pulled herself around so that she was facing her friend.
Cordelia looked, Serena decided, awful. Matted hair fell around a pinched face, hazel eyes deadened with exhaustion, her gaunt cheeks devoid of any colour.
"You should stay put." Serena spoke with conviction. No way would Cordy want to show that pasty face around town. "You really look like, well, like you should hide all day long."
"I have to go in. I have to drop my fake id-card back in the office before Angel spots that it's missing."
Serena looked painfully confused, though Cordelia reflected mournfully, the expression could be the natural consequence of drinking 11 shots of tequila the night before.
"My work-id is for when we have to go to clubs, looking for people or talking to informants" Cordelia explained hoarsely as she gingerly propped herself up on her elbows, "I'm not supposed to take it out of the office."
"He doesn't let you use it for carding?" Serena rolled her eyes, her face filling with characteristic scorn, "He's just your boss, how come he's so protective? Geez, for a young guy, he can act pretty old. "
"Tell me about it." Cordelia tossed the bedcovers free from her uncomfortably warm body and wriggled her legs in the cool morning air. "But I told you before, we were friends before this whole work arrangement thing ever came about and I guess he feels like he should look out for me."
She grimaced as she thought about just how overprotective Angel could be. "A lot. He'd kill me if he knew I used that card to get into clubs. Or if he knew I was drinking. Especially the amount I drank last night. He's just old fashioned. Obey the law and all that."
Cordelia turned regretful eyes to her pillow. It would be so nice not to have to pretend to be fine around Angel and Wes. So tempting just to slouch back onto the pillow, drift back to sleep…
"Cordy," Serena's voice slipped into expert mode, "You work like the strangest hours for him. You're entitled to a life in your time off. And if making use of a fake id-card helps make that life better, well then your boss should deal." "Besides" Serena asked with a slight shrug "What's he going to do if he finds you took it?"
Head precariously near the pillow, Cordelia tried to ponder the question rationally. What exactly could he do? Fire me? No, he needs the visions. Dock my pay? That's illegal. Leave me in the office all day? He does that anyway. There's not much he can do except scold me. Cordelia might have felt marginally better, had it not been for the images of a darkly silent, intimidating employer that slowly pulled her logic to small pieces.
"Trust me when I tell you, he has ways of making me suffer. I'll just have to get up, get the id back and hope he hasn't noticed," she decided with a breath of deep conviction.
She dangled her legs over the edge of her bed and stood. A little too quickly apparently for a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelmed the nineteen-year old. She stretched a hand outward, grasping Serena for support.
"Oh yeah" Serena said wryly as she held onto her still swaying friend, "You get the id back and he'll never notice a thing."
Cordelia made a face at the other girl and began a slow hobble toward her wardrobe. "Emily still asleep?"
"Completely out of it," Serena replied as she slid back the bed. She curled back. "Cordy?"
"Yeah?"
"You gonna tell me about that guy last night?"
Cordelia tugged a pair of jeans from her wardrobe and busied herself with choosing a matching top. "Guy?"
"Yes" Serena drawled in amusement, "You know the guy you talked to all night long, the one that drove you home two hours after Emily and I got here."
Cordelia turned guiltily, "I'm really sorry about that, I mean I tell you guys to stay over and then I let you make your own way home."
"I'll forgive you," Serena smiled slyly, and pounding the pillow into a comfortable shape, she settled back, "If you tell me the story with that Jarod guy."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "There really isn't a story."
At least, not one I can tell. Let's see, Serena, Jarod has been a Seer for three years. He has visions but has slowly learned to control them so that he can actually induce one when he wants to know something. He's not a messenger, more like a partner. He can teach me everything he knows. He has helped others like me, and hell, I don't even understand it.
"Cordy?"
Cordelia turned and hastily tugged a black blouse from a wire hanger. "Serena, honestly, there's nothing to tell and I really have to go, or Angel will kill me."
She smiled apologetically at her grumbling friend and bundling her clothes together, she disappeared into the bathroom.
"You know what? I just can't bring myself to like that Serena girl."
Wesley cast the ancient Sumarian sword through the air, each swishing movement expertly gentle. "Cordelia's unwell?"
"According to Serena," Angel said dryly, tossing blood vials into the refrigerator, "Cordelia's probably sleeping last night off."
Wesley stilled his swordplay and rounded the corner. "Angel, I merely said I had suspicions, that's all. I didn't mean to suggest that Cordelia has a problem, or …"
"A nineteen year drinking scotch first thing in the morning is a problem Wesley." Angel slammed the refrigerator door closed. He spun around and leaned back against the kitchen counter, frustration etched in his expression, "She's taken her work id out of the office you know and I have warned her not to do that before. She's using alcohol as a crutch Wesley, to get her through the day. That's not a good thing. She's just going to have to talk about whatever is going on. When Doyle passed these visions on to her, I promised myself, I wouldn't let it affect her more than it has. I'd keep her out of the battlefield, keep her safe. She's only nineteen years old for Christ's sake" His palms dug into the counter surface. "That's all there is to it. End of the drama and the quiet listless Cordy, she's just going to have to talk."
Wesley cleared his throat politely. "Well, such a discussion would require a great deal of sensitivity…"
"Hey," Angel straightened self-consciously, "I'm Mr Sensitive. Hell, I touched the stick."
Ignoring the endless reverberation of painful thumping in her head, Cordelia plastered a bright smile onto her face and pushed the door to Angel Investigations wide open.
"Good morning," she greeted an empty office. Her smile vanished and Cordelia trudged wearily to the coffee machine, her bag slipping from her hand to the floor beneath.
"Thank you God," she murmured to herself as she flicked the switch on and watched the machine spurt to uncertain life. "Now why don't you be an extra nice deity and keep the office free of the living and the dead till at least lunch time."
The coffee tasted every bit as bad as it looked. Re-hydration is the name of the game, Cordelia reminded herself, as she forced the last few drops past her lips. Lowering the mug, she slid it to the edge of her desk and turned to her pile of paperwork with a heavy sigh.
Who ever would have thought demon hunting involved so much typing and filing?
The thumping in her head suddenly magnified, pounding against her skull. Every muscle clenched, her hands grabbed the sides of the chair. Not a vision, she pleaded in quiet mental desperation, I can't handle one right now. Relief soothed her slightly addled mind as the pain faded, apparently a mere reminder of her alcohol intake the night before.
"Never again," she vowed aloud, her body relaxing, "I am never ever going to do this to myself again."
"Do what to yourself?"
Cordelia started at the sound of Angel's low voice. Her eyes jumped to the doorway of the inner office, where the vampire hovered, Wesley by the sounds of it, clambering his way out of the elevator behind.
Angel carefully gauged her reaction to his sudden appearance and question. Her face fell at the sight of him, her wary guilt quickly vanquished by a forced smile. Her small shadow smudged face seemed paler than usual, her body burdened with exhaustion. Caging the urge to interrogate her, Angel merely raised an eyebrow in interest. "Well?"
"I am never going to allow my paperwork pile up like this again. Morning Wes." Cordelia tore her eyes from Angel and smiled at the Englishman.
"Good morning Cordelia. Did you enjoy your evening?"
"Yeah," Cordelia said cheerfully. She switched the computer on, and flicking her hair back, turned her attention to the paperwork, "I had a great time. Sorry I'm late this morning, we chatted all night."
"Its all right" Angel tugged a drawer of the filing cabinet open and began to rummage through the slender files, "We're quiet here, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm okay." Cordelia murmured, suppressing the sudden flicker of annoyance that rocked through her. Angel could be so damn over bearing sometimes, it's like he thinks….
Sanity disappeared as a crippling pain flung her forward, a gasp escaping her lips. Sudden images tore their way through her mind, almost too fast for her to comprehend. The pain roared around her but beneath it's weight, she adjusted to the vision, forcing herself to see. It diminished, the sights vanishing, swallowed by those who sent the vision and dragging a long breath into her burning lungs, Cordelia opened her eyes.
She found herself steadied in Angel's arms, his dark gaze piercing her own.
"I'm okay," she said breathlessly, clutching his chest, not quite trusting her feet. Angel lowered her into the chair with gentle skill.
"I'm okay," she repeated. "You have to go to 1118 Old Ocean drive. There's a kid, he's like seven, at home with some woman. I think maybe his dad's new girl." Cordelia swallowed unpleasantly, bile rising at the memory. "Surprise. She's a demon."
"I'm on it" Angel muttered, releasing his hold upon his young Seer. He spun around and grabbed his coat.
"Wes," he began.
"should go along," Cordelia finished. She raised a hand to silence Angel's predictable protest, "The demon looked nasty, I don't want to have to worry about you all afternoon. Besides, I want to pick up some supplies and things so I have plenty to keep me busy."
She transferred a stern stare upon the Englishman. "I mean it, big demon with lots of horns. Definitely requires two."
Behind her, Angel's gaze grew strangely gentle. Moving closer, he placed a hand on Cordelia's shoulder, "If you're sure."
"Positive," Cordelia promised, slapping his hand affectionately, "Go already."
Nodding sharply at Wesley, Angel tugged the weapon bag over his shoulder and moved toward the door, the ex-Watcher a half step behind. "We'll be back as fast as we can." The vampire paused, "Hang about here though, I want to speak to you about something."
Cordelia lifted tired eyes. "Sounds mysterious."
Expression inscrutable, Angel opened the door. "Nothing major. We'll talk later."
Cordelia nodded nonchalantly and watching the door swing closed behind the vampire, she reached for the phone.
"What am I doing?" Cordelia muttered to herself, as she scanned the coffee pavilion. She tilted back in the metallic chair and fidgeted with the afternoon menu. Calling Jarod a bare half hour ago had seemed logical, instinctive almost. Now though… if Angel knew…
Casting another harried glance around her, Cordelia comforted herself with the thoughts that the vampire was safely on the opposite side of town, battling a slime demon. Besides, she reminded herself, I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just meeting a friend. A tingle of excitement spindled through her as her thoughts turned to Jarod.
Nothing wrong with meeting a friend.
And yet, it felt strangely forbidden. Illicit almost. Cordelia had never thrived on a clandestine way of life. Concealing her ill-fated romance with Xander Harris had proved one of the most stressful experiences of her life. She wasn't used to lying or being deceitful.
I think it, I say it. Its my way.
"Cordelia."
The voice pulled her from the sudden darkness she had plunged into, dragging her thousands of feet to safety.
Jarod stood in front of her, his gaze searching. "Are you all right?"
Brandishing a warm smile, Cordelia motioned to the seat. "I'm fine. Just fine."
He pulled the seat outward and settled down, arranging himself comfortably within the tight confines of the metal chair. "You sounded upset on the phone."
The girl moistened her lips, her smile slipping. "I had a vision."
Jarod leaned forward, "Bad?"
A small laugh slid though her lips and Cordelia nodded slowly, "Pretty much. Big slime demon threatening a little kid, I sent my best friend out to fight it, so yeah, you could say bad."
His hand caught her own. "Come on," he said pulling her to her feet, "Time to show you good."
Cordelia slipped her key into the lock and nudged the door open. The offices were blanketed in dusky gloom but through strained eyes, she could make out a familiar form in the inner office.
Angel had a penchant for sitting in the quiet of black, lost in thought.
"I'm back" Cordelia greeted wearily, her eyes throbbing. The afternoon seemed an age away, the magic of conversation lost. And yet, she recalled each minute with a sudden pulsing joy, that sudden unfolding of knowledge, the litany of wisdom springing from his lips. The meditation, the dream-like vision he had guided her through with gentle care, the sudden clarity…
"So I see."
Her drifting thoughts dissipated, and she found herself staring at the now standing Angel.
"Yeah" she murmured, moving to the lamp on her desk. She switched it on, an eerie glow shining from its weakening bulb. "Remind me to replace that tomorrow."
"Will do." Angel moved quietly into the outer office, his hands resting lightly in his pockets.
Cordelia surveyed him curiously. Something was distracting him. "You okay?"
"Yeah" Angel answered slowly, leaning against the wall. His gaze grabbed her own, his eyes gently demanding. "Are you?"
The words died in the silence of the night.
Don't tell him.
The urge was primal, the need to protect instinctive. Angel couldn't know about Jarod, he wouldn't understand.
I have to tell him something. I know him, that look of persistence, he won't let this go until he thinks he has everything fixed.
So let him think that. It's not a lie. Things are good. He doesn't need to know why.
Cordelia hitched a breath and smiled uneasily. She tilted back against her desk, her nails digging into the wood.
Fine, I can do this.
Cordelia was good at a great many things. Lying to Angel, she was quite sure, wasn't one of them.
Limit the lying.
"You know what?" she began haltingly, the words catching in her throat, "I haven't been. Okay that is, not for some time now." She risked a glance upward, her heart tightening at his expression. Honest, open, trusting. Trusting her. "I haven't been okay and I haven't been able to manage that. At least not very well. I guess you've noticed."
"Once or twice." Smooth humor lined Angel's tone, his eyes gentle.
"Yeah, well I have been stupid. Drinking when I shouldn't be. Not eating or sleeping or really doing anything that resembled healthy living and that all kind of hit me today. I've spent the afternoon thinking about it and between Doyle and the visions, you know I've had it tough. I am entitled to feel lousy and I guess I just have to accept that while things will get better, they're not going to today. And in the meantime, I'll just have to take care of myself and remember that nothing or no-one has ever beaten Cordelia Chase." She bit her lip, the pain forcing tears to her eyes.
Look believable.
"At least not yet."
"Not ever" Angel resolved slowly as he heeled himself from the wall.
"Not ever" Cordelia agreed, allowing him to pull her into a gentle hug. Her face smothered in his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, Cordelia squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the sudden self-hatred that swamped her.
It wasn't all a lie. It wasn't all a lie. It wasn't all a lie.
It just wasn't the truth.