I shouldn't be here, I should be with him, the candles
burning beside me, in me…
Just get this over with. Get back there.
"I don't
see why we had to come all the way back to the offices. We could have talked
tomorrow," she struggled to cool the burning anger in her voice.
"This is ridiculous."
Angel ran his
hand the length of the seat belt stretched across his chest, considering his
answer carefully.
Keep it
short. Don't make her mad. Just get her there.
And then the
fun begins.
"Wes and I figured we should sort it
out tonight Cordelia, we've been worried about you."
"Wes
and I," Cordelia mimicked from behind. She laughed harshly. "You
think maybe you two could actually give me a break? I can take care of myself
and I can make my own decisions. You think because I don't involve you, it
means there's something wrong?" She cast an anger bitten gaze at the
passing cars, longing to be in one of them, anywhere but where she was.
"You know, I survived in this city long before you came along Angel."
Angel resisted the urge of reminding her
of the roach infested apartment and Russell Winters, instead he inclined his
head slightly, jaw tense, voice calm. "I know that Cordelia."
He subtly raised a hand, motioning it
forward. Beside him, Wesley half nodded and eased his foot down on the
accelerator. Satisfied that the Englishman would get them back as quickly as
possible, Angel switched his gaze to the side mirror, where Cordelia's scowling
reflection held his attention. If the teenager were to snap in an open top
convertible racing through the city, she wouldn't be easily managed. Not easily
managed perhaps, but managed she would be, Angel decided with a confident
grimness. Cordelia could scowl and pout all she liked but she was staying put.
If he had to clamber back there and hold
her down, she was staying put.
*****************
Cordelia stepped
out, slamming the door behind her. She held a hand outright.
"Keys
please."
Angel looked at
her blankly as he closed his own door with a little more sensitivity to the
hinges. "Excuse me?"
Cordelia sighed
impatiently. "I don't have my keys. We can't open up without them."
"Right,"
The vampire dug a hand into his pocket and retrieved his own set. He dropped
them into her palm. "Why don't you just…"
She was gone,
storming ahead toward the building entrance, keys clutched in her hand.
Angel released a
long and completely unnecessary breath. "Christ," he muttered as
Wesley circled around the car toward him. "She's not happy."
"No"
Wesley agreed, "She's not." He looked at his employer meaningfully.
"This isn't even the beginning, Angel."
"I
know," the vampire said softly as he watched his young Seer disappear into
the building. "I know. I hate this. She's going to hate this."
Wesley shook his
head. "Actually Angel, she's mostly going to hate us."
Angel nodded, his
eyes fixed on the swinging doorway ahead. "I know that too. But even if
she can't forgive me, it's worth it…"
"because
she'll be healthy," Wesley finished for him. Clapping the vampire on the
back, Wesley said determinedly. "Let's get it done."
Angel
straightened, placing a restraining hand on Wesley's chest. "No" he
said quietly, equal determination lining his tone, "Get downstairs and
secure the place as much as you can. Don't forget the latch window in the
bathroom. Then get out of here. Find out what you can about Jarod. Get Dennis
to pack a bag for her, drop it by in the morning but make sure and call
downstairs first and if I can, I'll come up to you."
Wesley stared at
his employer in disbelief. "Angel, you can't be serious. You cannot do
this alone."
Angel lifted his
head, his eyes unusually gentle. "I have to Wes. Its bad enough that one
of us see her this way, it's not fair on her that both of us…" His voice
trailed off, his thoughts distant. The vampire shook himself, suddenly
purposeful. "Besides" he said, a trace of humor in his tone,
"I'll be bad cop, you drop by with clothes and food and you'll be good
cop, right?"
Wesley managed a
weak smile as he nudged his glasses steady. "You'll call me? For anything
at all?"
Angel heaved
himself from the car and nodded toward the other man. "I won't need
anything." His eyes drifted toward the office windows, resolve replacing
dread. "Except time."
Wesley watched
the vampire move away, each pace steady. This was perhaps, the Englishman
mused, Angel at his best. The vampire was fuelled by determination, a belief in
his mission shaping every action, his single mindedness his best ally. Angel
would, Wesley knew, bury his affection for Cordelia, ignore her pleading, her
rages, her tears, remaining steadfast before her. He would drag her back to
them with a tenacity and ferocity of self-conviction that Wesley Wyndham Price
could not hope to possess.
Surmising that
Cordelia quite simply didn't have a chance, Wesley followed his employer
slowly, comforting himself with the hope that perhaps at the end of it all, she
would thank them.
********************
The vampire
lingered, allowing Wesley time to secure the apartment downstairs. The
Englishman finally emerged a bag filled, presumably with medieval weapons in
hand. Nodding at Angel, Wesley disappeared, his own job at least for the night,
done. Angel paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, preparing for the
night ahead. He pulled the door open finding as expected, an exasperated Seer.
"Finally"
she rose to her feet, her expression sour, "It's bad enough that you
interrupt my plans for the evening but it takes you twenty minutes to walk from
the car? Some of us actually have a life Angel and we tend to live it in the
evenings so could you please hurry this up?"
"Sorry
about that," Angel said lightly, plucking the keys from her desk. He
turned to lock the door. "Wesley decided to do some follow up on the case
that came in earlier so we got caught up discussing it. Lets get downstairs,
its chilly up here."
"You don't
get cold. Dead remember?" Cordelia snapped as he strolled past her.
"And what do you mean Wesley decided to do some follow up? Wesley was the
one who practically begged me to come over."
"He'll drop
by later," Angel swung the elevator door across, pausing to eye the young
girl. "I need to check something in the library for him. It won't take
long."
Cordelia
hesitated for a half breath. Something wasn't quite right. Angel seemed so damn
reasonable, relaxed. Wesley had been so insistent, this all felt staged. She
regarded her employer carefully, gauging him.
What kind of
game is this? What, he thinks I'll stay because he plays at being Mr. Nice for
a night?
No chance
Angel.
She stalked past
him into the elevator, her head high, eyes cold.
Angel stepped
beside her, relaxed.
You've got
her.
"Fine,"
she said shortly, her arms crossed. "You do your stupid research, we have
our little chat and then I'm out of here."
Angel stepped
beside her, silent as he crunched the door across. The elevator whirred
downward, it's clanking the only sound and as it rested with a slight thump on
the ground floor, Cordelia moved forward to slide the door open, Angel a pace
behind.
"Let me
just check that information for Wesley first."
Cordelia was
walking through to the kitchen. "One hour Angel. I don't care how you use
it."
"There's
soup in the microwave, it just needs reheating." Angel called after her,
inwardly hoping for a favorable response. She was going to need her strength
through all this. She needed to eat.
"I already
ate" Cordelia lied as she sat down. She glanced around, her gaze
automatically settling on a simple etching hanging on the wall opposite. It was
framed, having being hung there after careful deliberation and as she looked on
it now, Cordelia's eyes burned with an old sorrow, one she hadn't felt in quite
some time. And yet it stung just as hard and deep as it had before.
Oh God, Doyle.
She sat frozen, her
gaze glued to the penciled drawing, a hand rising to wipe the tears.
"He'd be
pretty upset to see you leave us."
Angel's voice was low but gentle.
Cordelia
smoothed the damp from her cheek, her hand soft. "Doyle would
understand," she said quietly, knowing it to be true. Doyle, above
everyone, would understand. He had suffered just as she did, every aching
torment of the vision, his own. Just
as he would understand the ecstasy, the bliss, the freedom of the powder
enhanced visions.
"Doyle would
get it," she murmured again, finally lifting her gaze from the drawing.
Angel moved
forward to lean against the fridge, his arms crossed. "Think so? Seemed to
me like he was pretty committed to this place, to what we do."
"Maybe he
thought he had no other choice," Cordelia straightened, efficient now,
"Maybe he thought that this was all there was."
"And you've
found more?" Angel asked softly, his eyes dragging over her tiny frame,
her thin drawn face, her eyes charred with misery, worn with weariness.
Cordelia
regarded him silently, lips pursed. It wasn't his fault, she realized with
sudden clarity, she shouldn't expect him to understand the pain of the visions
or the bliss of the powder. He was, in his own blundering way, trying to help
her. Cordelia softened, as she looked at him, so earnest there, so very sure
that he could help, she couldn't be angry with him for not understanding. She
couldn't blame him.
"Yes,"
she said softly, a small smile on her lips, "I have found more. I can't
explain it to you Angel, at least not so you'd understand. But I have found
more, more than I ever thought I could and it's time for me to move on."
"With
Jarod." There was a familiar edge in his voice.
Cordelia
inclined her head gracefully, her eyes held by his own. "Yes, with
Jarod."
Angel nodded,
his lips twisting into a grimace. "See Cordelia, that's where we have a
problem. If you told me you wanted to leave to pursue your acting career or
some other ambition, I'd be upset but I'd let you go. But if this is your plan,
to leave with Jarod, I can't let you go. I just can't."
Cordelia shook
her head in mild disgust, rising to her feet, pushing her chair aside. "I
was crazy to think you could discuss this maturely. I am going to go, tell Wes
that I…"
"I can't let
you do that Cordelia."
Cordelia lifted
her head to glare at him. "Excuse me?"
Angel shifted
against the fridge, the movement propelling him forward. "You can't leave
Cordelia. Not any time soon. You see we know."
She froze,
unable to breath. "What is it you think you know?" she finally
managed.
Angel took a
step closer, his voice steady, "We know what you've been hiding. The
visions, the powder, this Jarod guy. You don't know what you've been playing
with Cordelia, that powder makes you ill, really sick. I can't let you leave
until I know you're well, till I know you're safe." He edged closer,
conscious of her trembling. "You have to trust me on this one Cordelia,
can you do that?"
Seeing the
sincerity, the meaning and determination in his eyes, Cordelia Chase managed to
form one thought.
Run.
