Disclaimers: "Angel" and its characters belong to Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox Television, David Greenwalt Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, and Sandollar Television. No copyright infringement is intended; I'm just paying homage.
Spoilers: "Belonging" through "There's No Place..." and Buffy's "The Gift"
EYES WIDE OPEN
***
Cordelia turned the knob to the door of her apartment. Despite a few gawkers who eyed Cordy's strange attire, to which she muttered, "Halloween came early this year, okay, pal," it was nice to be home. Even though it was fun being a princess in Pylea, the stress and uneasiness of the past few nights, the idea of the Com-Shuk, Lorne's talking head, that freaky Silas priesty dude, Angel's fight with poor Groo, it had all really taken its toll on her. And then to come back to the Hyperion to find Willow waiting for them...it was just too much.
As Cordelia came through the doorway, she saw a bouquet of flowers floating in a vase in front of her. Unsure of where he had gotten flowers, she smiled, "Thanks, Dennis."
In the next instant, the flowers went crashing to the floor, sending the blue porcelain vase into a thousand pieces. Cordelia, forgetting for a moment that Fred was standing waiting quietly and patiently behind her, quickly scolded her ghost, "God, Dennis. Overprotective much! It's just Fred."
Bending down to pick up the larger broken pieces, Cordelia added, "Dennis, Fred. Fred, Dennis."
Fred stared wide-eyed in front of her. "I-I don't see anybody," she drawled.
Cordelia draped her cloak over her couch and went for a broom and the trash can. Fred kneeled down for the remaining pieces. "Dennis is my ghost," Cordelia explained. "He came with the place. His crazy mother bricked him in over there," she threw her head in the direction of the wall as Fred turned to look, too, "and he hasn't exactly gone into the light yet."
"Oh," Fred whispered softly. She stood up and dusted her hands into the trash can.
"Dennis, Fred's going to stay with us for a little bit while she gets settled, okay?"
Fred searched the air as Cordy spoke. She was a bit startled when a flower from the floor came flying up into her eye line. Slowly putting her hand up to take it, she said, "Th-Thank you."
"I need a shower," Cordelia declared, hoping Fred would get the subtle hint. "But first," lightening up for a moment, "I am starving. Let me just change into something a little less regal and I'll see if I have anything that's not growing arms in the fridge." Cordy walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, leaving Fred alone, sort of, in the living room.
Fred looked at her surroundings for the first time. She couldn't believe what she saw. The curtains were drawn, and Fred's eyes opened wide at all the lights shining in the valley below her. So many lights. For a second, Fred wondered how many candles and fires were lit down below until she noticed the light fixtures in Cordelia's apartment, glowing as well. Blurred images from her old life came rushing back to her, and Fred felt the need to sit down.
Although her first instinct was sit on the floor, Dennis fluffed up a pillow on the couch. Fred gazed at the plush material, thinking back to her conversation in the cave after Angel had slept on the skins. Sitting down, she petted the nearest cushion almost as if it were alive. Her thoughts involuntarily fell to Angel and the pain he was surely in. Cordelia had explained some of the details of who Buffy was and what she meant to Angel - they had been in love, him being a vampire complicated some things, she sent him to hell, they still loved each other but knew that they had to live apart - but only the bare necessities, and Fred felt it would be wrong to question any further while the news of Buffy's death was still fresh. Things would be better in the morning, Fred thought. She hated the idea of Angel hurting; he had been so nice to her in Pylea. Back in the hotel, Angel had virtually forgotten Fred's existence as he headed to the confines of his room to mourn.
Coming away from her thoughts, Fred's attention was suddenly overtaken by a moving picture coming from a square box in the corner of the room. Fred let out an excited yelp as the picture started to talk about the magic of the tarot cards. Fred ran in front of the television and pressed her fingertips to the screen, studying it intently. Cordelia came running out of the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, looking around the apartment to find the cause of the unexpected noise.
"What? What is it?" Cordy managed to say out of breath. She wasn't quite sure what to think when she saw Fred tilting her head sideways, giggling at the dancing images in front of her as Dennis went quickly from channel to channel. "Dennis, stop it. Fred's sort of new to technology... or reality for that matter."
"This...I forgot this," Fred cried, feeling guilty at her own joy. "What's it called?" she asked earnestly.
"It's TV, Fred. Remember TV? Millions of people sit down every night ignoring their family members so they can tune in to watch doctors and nurses on Must-See TV only to have twenty minutes of every hour eaten away by commercials selling cars and ab-rollers and dish washing detergents."
"TV," Fred repeated sincerely. "I-I remember now. Things get twisted up sometimes in my head. Always thinking your head's gonna come off...you forget things. It's been so long," she said quietly. "Is 'Murder, She Wrote' still on?"
" 'Murder, She...' " Cordelia knew Fred was a little crazy, but "Murder, She Wrote?"
Fred sensed Cordy's raised eyebrows and disapproving glare and hastily added, "I used to watch with my granma."
"Oh, honey, they put Angela Lansbury out to pasture years ago. She's feeding the starving children of somewhere or other now. Ooh, that reminds me." Cordelia headed in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "What do you feel like?" calling back to Fred who still sat happily in front of the TV.
Fred's mind wandered to tree bark, but just as she was about to open her mouth, Cordelia spoke. "And I'm sorry, Fred. I don't seem to have any tacos."
"Oh," Fred replied, too low for Cordy to hear her. Walking into the kitchen herself, she sighed. "That's all right."
"But," Cordelia said as she opened up a drawer, "I think I may have something even better. Grab a spoon."
Fred marveled at the word spoon for a moment before taking one from Cordelia's out stretched hand.
"Cookies 'N Cream, Rocky Road, or Double Mint Mocha Chip?"
For not the first time that night, Fred's eyes opened wide at the choices before her. She dug her spoon into a tub of Cookies 'N Cream and savored every mouthful. She knew it would take time to get reacquainted with the world around her. And she knew that a lot of things still needed to be sorted out regarding her five-year disappearance. And Angel would still be in pain and Fred wasn't quite sure what her place would be...
But for now, right now, there was ice cream. Sure, it wasn't tacos, but it wasn't curdled viper's milk either. With the TV blasting music videos in the other room, Fred knew that was enough, for the time being anyway.
Spoilers: "Belonging" through "There's No Place..." and Buffy's "The Gift"
EYES WIDE OPEN
***
Cordelia turned the knob to the door of her apartment. Despite a few gawkers who eyed Cordy's strange attire, to which she muttered, "Halloween came early this year, okay, pal," it was nice to be home. Even though it was fun being a princess in Pylea, the stress and uneasiness of the past few nights, the idea of the Com-Shuk, Lorne's talking head, that freaky Silas priesty dude, Angel's fight with poor Groo, it had all really taken its toll on her. And then to come back to the Hyperion to find Willow waiting for them...it was just too much.
As Cordelia came through the doorway, she saw a bouquet of flowers floating in a vase in front of her. Unsure of where he had gotten flowers, she smiled, "Thanks, Dennis."
In the next instant, the flowers went crashing to the floor, sending the blue porcelain vase into a thousand pieces. Cordelia, forgetting for a moment that Fred was standing waiting quietly and patiently behind her, quickly scolded her ghost, "God, Dennis. Overprotective much! It's just Fred."
Bending down to pick up the larger broken pieces, Cordelia added, "Dennis, Fred. Fred, Dennis."
Fred stared wide-eyed in front of her. "I-I don't see anybody," she drawled.
Cordelia draped her cloak over her couch and went for a broom and the trash can. Fred kneeled down for the remaining pieces. "Dennis is my ghost," Cordelia explained. "He came with the place. His crazy mother bricked him in over there," she threw her head in the direction of the wall as Fred turned to look, too, "and he hasn't exactly gone into the light yet."
"Oh," Fred whispered softly. She stood up and dusted her hands into the trash can.
"Dennis, Fred's going to stay with us for a little bit while she gets settled, okay?"
Fred searched the air as Cordy spoke. She was a bit startled when a flower from the floor came flying up into her eye line. Slowly putting her hand up to take it, she said, "Th-Thank you."
"I need a shower," Cordelia declared, hoping Fred would get the subtle hint. "But first," lightening up for a moment, "I am starving. Let me just change into something a little less regal and I'll see if I have anything that's not growing arms in the fridge." Cordy walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, leaving Fred alone, sort of, in the living room.
Fred looked at her surroundings for the first time. She couldn't believe what she saw. The curtains were drawn, and Fred's eyes opened wide at all the lights shining in the valley below her. So many lights. For a second, Fred wondered how many candles and fires were lit down below until she noticed the light fixtures in Cordelia's apartment, glowing as well. Blurred images from her old life came rushing back to her, and Fred felt the need to sit down.
Although her first instinct was sit on the floor, Dennis fluffed up a pillow on the couch. Fred gazed at the plush material, thinking back to her conversation in the cave after Angel had slept on the skins. Sitting down, she petted the nearest cushion almost as if it were alive. Her thoughts involuntarily fell to Angel and the pain he was surely in. Cordelia had explained some of the details of who Buffy was and what she meant to Angel - they had been in love, him being a vampire complicated some things, she sent him to hell, they still loved each other but knew that they had to live apart - but only the bare necessities, and Fred felt it would be wrong to question any further while the news of Buffy's death was still fresh. Things would be better in the morning, Fred thought. She hated the idea of Angel hurting; he had been so nice to her in Pylea. Back in the hotel, Angel had virtually forgotten Fred's existence as he headed to the confines of his room to mourn.
Coming away from her thoughts, Fred's attention was suddenly overtaken by a moving picture coming from a square box in the corner of the room. Fred let out an excited yelp as the picture started to talk about the magic of the tarot cards. Fred ran in front of the television and pressed her fingertips to the screen, studying it intently. Cordelia came running out of the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, looking around the apartment to find the cause of the unexpected noise.
"What? What is it?" Cordy managed to say out of breath. She wasn't quite sure what to think when she saw Fred tilting her head sideways, giggling at the dancing images in front of her as Dennis went quickly from channel to channel. "Dennis, stop it. Fred's sort of new to technology... or reality for that matter."
"This...I forgot this," Fred cried, feeling guilty at her own joy. "What's it called?" she asked earnestly.
"It's TV, Fred. Remember TV? Millions of people sit down every night ignoring their family members so they can tune in to watch doctors and nurses on Must-See TV only to have twenty minutes of every hour eaten away by commercials selling cars and ab-rollers and dish washing detergents."
"TV," Fred repeated sincerely. "I-I remember now. Things get twisted up sometimes in my head. Always thinking your head's gonna come off...you forget things. It's been so long," she said quietly. "Is 'Murder, She Wrote' still on?"
" 'Murder, She...' " Cordelia knew Fred was a little crazy, but "Murder, She Wrote?"
Fred sensed Cordy's raised eyebrows and disapproving glare and hastily added, "I used to watch with my granma."
"Oh, honey, they put Angela Lansbury out to pasture years ago. She's feeding the starving children of somewhere or other now. Ooh, that reminds me." Cordelia headed in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "What do you feel like?" calling back to Fred who still sat happily in front of the TV.
Fred's mind wandered to tree bark, but just as she was about to open her mouth, Cordelia spoke. "And I'm sorry, Fred. I don't seem to have any tacos."
"Oh," Fred replied, too low for Cordy to hear her. Walking into the kitchen herself, she sighed. "That's all right."
"But," Cordelia said as she opened up a drawer, "I think I may have something even better. Grab a spoon."
Fred marveled at the word spoon for a moment before taking one from Cordelia's out stretched hand.
"Cookies 'N Cream, Rocky Road, or Double Mint Mocha Chip?"
For not the first time that night, Fred's eyes opened wide at the choices before her. She dug her spoon into a tub of Cookies 'N Cream and savored every mouthful. She knew it would take time to get reacquainted with the world around her. And she knew that a lot of things still needed to be sorted out regarding her five-year disappearance. And Angel would still be in pain and Fred wasn't quite sure what her place would be...
But for now, right now, there was ice cream. Sure, it wasn't tacos, but it wasn't curdled viper's milk either. With the TV blasting music videos in the other room, Fred knew that was enough, for the time being anyway.