Disclaimer: Joss and co own all. Even me.
Okay, here's the next one J. Thanks for all the lovely reviews guys. I am already writing the
next and final chapter so this should be wrapped up fairly soon. Please
continue with the feedback and let me know if I am doing the characters and
subject matter justice.
Body Armour.
He slurped greedily, the chilled blood trickling down his throat, each gulp cold and clotted. Angel dropped the crumpled bag into the blood-splattered sink and heaved a long breath, his head bowed.
"He'll get over it." Wesley remarked quietly from the kitchen entrance.
Angel stiffened before straightening slowly. "I don't want him to," he answered in a low voice. The vampire turned, his face dark and haunted. His penetrating eyes drifted over the other man's face and he sought some silent permission to continue, to confess the darkness within. "I don't want him to get over it Wesley. I want to find him crippled, with maybe a few bones left for me to break. I want to kill him." He paused, his voice strangled in a guilty pitch. "I wanted to kill him."
Angel willed a reaction of contempt, of complete and utter revulsion.
Willed a reaction to the beast.
To himself.
Instead, his admission was rewarded with a shake of a very British head. "You didn't kill him Angel." Wesley reminded his friend gently. "He's still very much alive."
The vampire shrugged helplessly, his expression tight and pained. "You don't get it Wes," he explained finally, brown eyes burdened with self-disgust, "I still want him dead. If you hadn't have come along when you did, I might have…"
"You might have killed him," Wesley agreed as he leaned back against the wall. "That doesn't make you Angelus."
The vampire's stomach twisted, a knot tightening as a horrible knowledge possessed him. "I know," Angel almost whispered under the weight of this terrible wisdom. "It makes me worse."
"Nonsense," Wesley replied firmly. "Angel if you plan on torturing yourself for the next week, let me know and I will go now. I don't intended staying around to watch you play the martyr act."
Angel's head whipped up. "I'm not…"
"Yes you bloody are," Wesley continued sharply. He shifted his weight from the wall, propelling himself to steady feet. "It wasn't a demon who beat Jarod up there, Angel. It was a man. A man defending his best friend, protecting someone else from the hell she's been put through." Wesley regarded Angel, a weary smile on his lips. "Don't you see Angel? What you did up there was a very human thing to do. It's the price of family you see, that burning urge to guard them, fight for them. Those emotions, those feelings aren't demonic."
"Wesley," Angel said softly, "I might have killed him."
"Any man might have." Wesley returned. "Any demon would have, without question, without conscience, without reason and without remorse. Don't feel guilty over this one, Angel. There are many that couldn't have walked away the way you did."
The vampire relaxed, minutely, just enough to allow his muscles uncurl from their wrenching tightness. There would be time for self-recriminations later and possibly, Angel considered with grim humor, the occasional fit of martyrdom. For now though, he was needed elsewhere. Nodding slowly, the vampire cleared his mind, forcing focus as he asked, "How is she?"
************************
She was asleep, sound in slumber. Damp curls fell around her face, tousled hair sticking to her clammy cheeks. Angel bent down beside her and smoothed them away, untangling soft knots with his fingers.
"She looks better."
"She's over the worst." Wesley confirmed from the doorway. "The cravings will subside completely over the next day or two and toward the end of the week, she'll feel a little more like herself again."
Angel rested his hand on the back of her head. "Who's that then?"
Wesley furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"
"Cordelia told me there was no going back. Things wouldn't be the same again. That they couldn't ever be."
Reluctant acceptance in his voice, Wesley offered slow consolation. "She may be right, but then again, perhaps she won't remember much and you know…"
His voice drifted away, lost in the sudden palpable silence.
"Wesley," Angel finally spoke, his voice calm and even. "You should head home. Get some rest."
Wesley thought to argue, to offer some other assistance, however meaningless. Instead he nodded pointlessly at his employer's back. "All right then. I'll see you in the morning."
The vampire didn't answer but instead seemed to melt further into the surrounding darkness. The Englishman stepped back and moved away quietly, leaving Angel to watch over Cordelia.
**********************
He wrapped an arm around her waist, carefully pulling her toward him. Her head dropped forward, resting against his chest and her small hand brushed against his leg, her breathing steady all the while. Content sleep would keep her safe, Angel closed his own eyes, just for a moment. For a bare minute.
When he woke fifteen hours later Cordelia was gone.
The bed howled under the vampire's hurtling weight as Angel scrambled to his feet, unraveling the cumbersome duvet from around his body while he moved, swift paces carrying him into the living room.
"Cordelia?" His eyes feverishly darted around the room, finding nothing there to pacify the gnawing fear digging into every bone. "Goddamnit, goddamnit. Godamnit." Clenching his quivering jaw, Angel forced himself to calm and consider the possibilities.
The padlock
on the upper door. Damn thing had been rusty when he put it on.
Whirling around, Angel pounded up the staircase, his hand grabbing the wooden banister, feet leaping three steps at a time. Dulled with orange rust, the padlock was sturdily intact, the door secured steadfastly.
Spiral
staircase.
He turned with an impatient growl, his jumbled thoughts already racing ahead.
Where would
she go? How long was she gone? What the hell would she do to herself this time?
The vampire paused, his hand clutching the dark banister as he drew to a sudden halt, hurry forgotten. He stiffened, every sense alert and aware as he lifted his head toward the bathroom opposite. The door was slightly ajar, a thin slice of light glimmering beneath the doorframe. His body slowed, Angel descended the final few steps, his gaze locked on the door ahead. Easy stealth in every footfall, the door creaked beneath his touch, moaning a soft whine as it pushed inward.
She stood staring ahead, her pale reflection gleaming in the solitary mirror. Her hands dangled by her side, hazel eyes unblinking.
"Cordelia," Angel edged inside, caution in his step. "You had me worried."
She didn't move. "I didn't always look this way. I remember not looking this way." Cordelia spoke in a monotone, her face expressionless, those haunted eyes gliding over her pale image seeking some solace there.
Finding none.
Finding nothing. A gap, a void, vacancy. She was empty, bled dry of anything resembling life. She could remember more than this. Somewhere in the cold recesses of her mind, tiny sparks of warmth reminded her.
"Cordelia," His soft voice hummed in her ear. "Lets go and sit down all right?"
"I used to be more than this, didn't I?" She turned limply, her exhausted eyes settling on the man opposite. "You remember, don't you?"
Angel surveyed her quietly, guilt, grief and a thousand regrets carved onto his somber face.
Before L.A.
Before Doyle. Before the damn visions.
"I remember."
She drank in his sorrow, those features marred by a dark weight, his face stricken, broken. A new agony in his eyes.
Had she done this? Had she cluttered him with sadness? She moved closer wonderingly, her small hand fluttering to his cheek. "Did I do this?" she murmured, her eyebrows dipping in mild bewilderment.
Angel stayed still, subduing the hope building inside. This might be nothing more than a dream to her. She may not be home yet. "Do what Cordelia?"
"Burden you. Make your eyes so heavy." Cordelia said softly, smoothing his skin with her outturned hand.
Angel swallowed, a harsh ache burrowing into his throat. "Not you," he managed, his voice breaking, "Not ever you Cordelia."
Cordelia raised her eyes, scanning his face for the truth of his words. His face, so familiar now, every feature stamped on her heart.
How had she
forgotten? How had she forgotten him?
Her face crumpled in sudden grief, her back shaking with a half breath. "Angel. Angel, what have I… " She faltered, voice failing her. "What have I done? What have…"
Angel caught her and held her to him, strong arms wrapped around her shuddering body. "It's fixed," he promised her fiercely, "Its fixed now."
*****************************
Hearing the bathroom door click open, Angel paused mid-pace and busied himself with the bookshelf, turning calmly as her footsteps padded closer. His young seer stood in front of him, looking a little lost in a pair of oversized tracksuit bottoms and a long shirt, her long hair damp and unruly.
Angel clapped his hands together briskly. "Feeling fresher?"
Cordelia smiled tightly. "Yeah. I do." She eyed the coffee table wryly. "Expecting an army?"
The vampire tilted his head self-consciously. "Well, you know, you haven't eaten in a while and I wasn't sure what you'd like so…"
"You made a lot of everything." Cordelia finished as she squeezed past the laden table, dropping onto the sofa behind. She sat back and tucked her feet beneath her.
"Something like that." Angel replied sheepishly. He followed her path, taking a seat beside her, his larger frame crouching forward, one hand linked through the other. His voice dropped to a soft low. "So, how are you doing?"
Cordelia sighed grimly. "Oh boy." Distress bit into her tone. "I really must be in trouble, you're using your 'speak nice to the helpless person' voice.
Angel shook his head, staring ahead, the silver lining of the leather bound books catching his eye. "You're not helpless Cordelia," he told her evenly. "You've never been helpless."
A distant thought curled in her mind as she remembered the faces of those who had sought Angel's help in the past. The desperation, the panic, the cold curdling fear in their eyes.
"Yes I am," she admitted in a whisper. Cordelia waited as he leaned back and shifted his head sideways. His brown eyes wandered across her face, filling with understanding as they recognized her intent.
"I wanted out of here so badly." Cordelia began haltingly. She pulled her drifting thoughts together, fingernails digging into the back of her hands, that small pain blessing her with focus. "I still want out. When I was in the shower, I thought of a million ways to escape. Not one brilliant Shawshank redemption escape among them." She stared at him meaningfully. "But if there was one, I'd be gone."
Angel nodded in thoughtful agreement. "I know."
Cordelia looked away, tears pricking her eyes. "So what does that make me then? I'd go back to him, even though I know." She thoughts of the visions, the powder and felt the burning ache inside, that blinding pain. "God, how I know."
"What do you know?" Angel asked softly.
She flung an angry sideways glance at the vampire. "You don't have to psyche me Angel. I know what Jarod is, I know what he's done to me. I know all that all right? I just don't know how to stop wanting it. Wanting what only he can give me." She shook her head furiously. "I don't know if I can ever stop this."
"You've already begun," Angel informed her calmly. "It may not feel that way but it's already begun. Two days ago, you wouldn't speak to me. You wouldn't look at me. You've come a long way since then."
Seeing a silent air of despondence droop around her slumped shoulders, Angel pressed a little.
"Cordelia, you're ill. You couldn't see that and you needed Wes and I to help you out. You still need us but every hour, less and less. You're getting better. I know you still feel far away from us, I know you want nothing more than some of that powder but I promise, I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you with us till you're ready to come back to us."
Tears dropped, smudging her shirt. "What if I can't?" Cordelia asked lowly. "What if I can't?"
"That's not an option." Angel said calmly, a slight headshake of disquiet at the thought. "You're half way back."
"Back to what?" Cordelia wiped her damp cheeks and glanced at him through long damp locks of dark hair. "Angel, what have I to get back to? I wasn't lying when I said things can't go back. I've lost my family. I've lost Doyle, I can't stand these visions, I don't want them and I hate myself for it. I've lied to you, I've lied to Wes." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm better off forgetting that. The powder lets me forget."
"That's crap." Angel interjected more brutally than he had intended. "Cordelia, how long will it let you forget? Until your brain fries and you can't form a logical thought? Until Jarod owns every part and discards you piece by piece? Until it works and you can't remember what the hell you were trying to forget in the first place?"
Realizing his voice had jumped to a yell, Angel paused and managed a slight shrug for his surprised seer. "Hey, at least I've lost the helpless person voice, right?" Congratulating himself on eliciting the first natural smile he had seen in weeks, the vampire soldiered on. "We haven't had it easy these past few months Cordelia. I know that and I know maybe I haven't watched out for you the way I should. It's just that I couldn't seem to reach you. You were so far away."
Sadness lingered around her. "I know."
"I couldn't reach you." Angel repeated, his hand drifting outward to clutch her own. "I tried but I just couldn't reach you."
"So you kidnapped me instead." Cordelia smoothed her palm against his own, her voice small, unheated.
Angel cocked his head. "I didn't have a choice Cordelia. I needed you safe."
She nodded knowingly. "That may be but Angel when I told you the cost of this may be our friendship, I wasn't lying. So much has happ…" she shifted her eyes to her knees. "It's a lot to get over. I don't know that I can."
Heart daggered, breaking, Angel somehow found his voice. "Let's just get you healthy first, all right? Then we can look at how we go on."
Cordelia uncurled her feet, rising to her feet with careful movement. "I'm going to go dry off my hair." She eased past him, disentangling her hand from his own. He caught it, holding her back.
"I don't want to lose you," he said quietly, almost a whisper.
She pulled her hand away, the movement slow, almost tender. "I know."
**************************
The days passed uneventfully, Cordelia spending her time watching television or perusing through the library collection. Angel occupied himself with watching over her discreetly, over the top of a book or through a hooded sideways glance. The cravings eased. Slowly but surely, the ferocity of their urge diminished and Cordelia found herself increasingly confident under their attack.
"It's like I've found my stake," she explained from the kitchen table where she sat cross-legged, watching him cook. "I can feel it coming and I can close it off, hold the urge in until it goes. Does that make any sense?"
"Plenty." Angel answered from the oven. "It's almost done. At least I think it is. Anyway, that makes perfect sense. You are taking control. It means you're winning."
They shared a mutual grin before remembering to fall back into that terse silence. Immersing himself in the lasagna preparations, Angel waited for her feet to pad away to isolation before allowing his shoulders to slump in defeat. For the most part, he managed to stay cheerful and ignore the tension stretching between them.
For the most part.
Wesley helped. With his characteristic kindly ease, he smoothed over the rough patches, enquiring after Cordelia as though she were recovering from a cold. He asked how her day went as though she were a guest rather than a prisoner. Cordelia responded, small smiles rewarding the Englishman's efforts. Wesley, Angel decided ruefully, had the better part of the deal. Not for him, caustic glances or sharp remarks. No, he got the thanks you's and ample conversation about reruns of The Love Boat.
"She apologized."
Angel jumped at the unexpected voice and turned around with a low growl. "Wesley, hi."
The Englishman beamed at him, apparently delighted with his stealthy entrance. "Sorry about creeping up on you there but I wanted to fill you in. Cordelia apologized."
"Apologized?" Angel straightened, dropping the oven gloves on the adjacent counter.
Wesley rocked back on his heels. "Yes, remember how she called me a useless, nerdy jumper wearing immigrant?"
The vampire blinked. "You know Wesley, she said a lot, I don't remember everyth…"
"Neither did I," Wesley continued brightly. "I mean she did refer to me in less than complimentary terms on several occasions so that particular incident doesn't stick out and Cordelia said herself she may only have thought it but the apology was nice all the same. Progress wouldn't you say?"
Resisting the urge to remind Cordelia that Wesley was an accomplice in the week's events, Angel satisfied himself with a tight grin. "Oh I'd say."
Wesley nodded enthusiastically. "I thought you would. I don't suppose she has apologized for the no life-shrink wannabe-probably has a damn leather thong- creature of the night comment has she?"
"No Wesley, she hasn't but thanks for bringing that one up again." Angel said darkly. He took three plates from the cupboard. "She hasn't said much of anything. And when she does, its like she fades away more than ever afterwards. Farther away from me."
"But she's getting better." Wesley offered, solemn now.
"Yeah" Angel agreed with forced heartiness. "She's getting better."
*****************
"You want anything to eat?"
Cordelia looked up from her book. "No thanks and you know you don't have to keep asking that every ten minutes. I'm pretty much at the whole 'I can fix myself something to eat without falling over' stage.
Something resembling hurt crossed Angel's face, almost too swift to notice. Almost.
"Angel," Cordelia said gently. "I didn't that to sound all snappy. I just, you knowing I'm feeling okay now."
Angel half shrugged. "I know that. I'll stop the mother hen routine. I know you're better."
Cordelia lowered the book to her lap, her hands crossed over its leather cover. "I am. So much so that I think maybe in the morning, I should go."
He tensed, her suggestion unexpected. "Go. Go where? Cordelia?"
"Go home," she told him calmly, her eyes intent upon him "Back to my life, whatever that is now."
"Cordelia," Angel murmured the beginnings of a protest.
"Angel" she cut in brusquely, "You've done it. You've taken me out of there and you've helped make me, me again. There's nothing more for you to do. You can't live my life Angel. You've given me back my choices Angel. It's time for me to make them."
"I won't allow him near you." Angel said evenly, his voice as calm and sure as her own.
She nodded. "I know that, just as we both now you couldn't really stop me from living that life if that's what I truly wanted." Her nails scratched the smooth book surface. "But I don't. Not anymore. I know I can't go back there again." Her smile dimmed, just a little. "Whatever life this is, whatever shell I am, this is my life now. Not Jarod's and not yours. It's time for me to get on with the living thing."
Angel stared at her speechlessly, struck both by her eloquent confidence and understated determination.
Cordelia Chase was very much back.
"You're right," he finally rasped, the words reluctantly ripping from his throat. "I know you're right."
Cordelia rose, the book falling onto the seat edge. "Thank you."
There was a goodbye in her small expression of gratitude, one recognized by both of them. Holding his gaze for a bare moment, Cordelia mumbled a goodnight before turning for the door.
"Is that it then?"
His words pulled her back, locking her feet to the floor. She swallowed and turned, cheeks flushed. Angel was as she had left him, sitting back-legged on a small wooden chair, his eyes having drifted to the far wall.
"Is that it?" he repeated, dragging his gaze back to her. "You thank me and walk away? You leave me in the morning and that's it?"
"We'll always be linked Angel." Cordelia returned softly. "The visions…"
"The visions?" Angel snarled a laugh. "You can leave them with Wesley or the answering machine Cordelia. I am talking about us. About you and I."
Cordelia took a breath. "I don't know Angel. I don't know how that's going to play out."
"That's not an answer I'm prepared to accept" Angel replied easily. "That's not enough."
Cordelia's eyes gleamed. "Things have changed. You made choices that affected what you and I are to each other. The things you did…"
"To save you. For Christ's sake Cordelia, to save you." Angel roared as he rose, flinging the chair across the room, shards of wood splintering over the floorboards.
They paused, eyes caught by the other. He could hear her heart pounding almost fearfully. "Cordelia."
"The things you did." Her voice cracked as she continued, ignoring his interruption, "changed what we are. I don't know if we can go back. I wish I could say it could but I can't. So much has changed Angel."
Angel gestured outward, one desperate hand flung toward her. "I know that. You think I don't know that? I wish I hadn't had to do what I did Cordelia. I wish you felt what I'd hoped you feel which was all delighted and grateful."
"It's not that I'm not," Cordelia said slowly, tears glistening. "But all that hurt, the pain of this week
when I think of it, I think of you. I know you did it to save me but now I'm restored to this shell, to this life and I know I should be grateful and I am and yet I'm not." Her head dipped, chest heaving short breaths and when she raised her eyes again, they were filled with distress. "I have to go on now. You've allowed me that but it's all still there. I was lost long before Jarod found me. I was nothing. I felt nothing. And now I'm back to that. Your salvation gave me that."
"So what?" Angel's eyes found the ceiling. "Now you give it to me?" He lowered his head in the silence to look upon his seer. "Because if you leave me Cordelia, if you walk away from me, that's what I get. I get nothing. I've been there these past few weeks, watching you fall so damn far away from me." Using her muteness, grabbing a lifeline, the vampire stepped closer. "All I have here is you Cordelia. I know you miss Doyle, I know the visions are hard. I know the powder's power but I also know that you and I can rebuild, we can mend."
He gritted his teeth. "I know you hated me having to save you. But please save me now. Don't leave me."
A rogue tear escaped, trickling a damp path down her cheek. "Angel."
"Cordelia. Please, let me finish. I care about you so much it scares me. This fear that you'll leave me eats me up from the inside out, consumes me. I can't lose you. You understand me? I can't do it. So it's your turn to save me. You save me Cordelia," He finished, each word punched with slow feeling and clarity of meaning.
His shoulders shrugged almost imperceptibly, helplessly. "You save me."
Cordelia stared at him for a half breath, her breathes hitching into a sob. "Angel." She said his name longingly, her feet carrying her to him. Flinging trembling arms around him, she buried her head in his chest.
He clutched her just as tightly, unwilling to ever let her go. Her tiny sobs and shaking body enough to hold him there forever. And somewhere from his dampening shirt and full arms, the words drifted, warm and loving.
"I'll save you."
********************************