Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for.
--
Chapter Six
--
If his heart could beat, he guessed it would most likely be pounding right about this minute.
Angel leaned against the closed door, eyes drifting closed and reopening as he fought the urge to pull it open and reconfront Rebecca.
Cordelia could handle herself, she could handle the situation and use it to her advantage. He had come to expect that from her.
He had come to trust that in her.
With a deep breath in, he shoved away from the door, pulling at the collar with the bowtie in disgust, steps faltering when he realized where he was.
Rebecca was outside, and Cordelia was keeping her occupied.
And Rebecca's office was wide open.
Angel paused, morphing into vampire face briefly to take a deep breath in, sniffing the air for intruders.
Finding none, he quickly moved to the office, reaching inside quickly to snatch a tape from the wall and move back to the dressing room.
He didn't see the camera following his every move.
--
The trouble with details was that there was always so many.
Fred Burkle squinted, taking in a breath and pushing her pencil further into the pencil sharpener, grateful for the mechanical whir that accompanied the grating of the pencil.
Pulling it out, she studied the sharp point, found it to her liking and turned back to her notes, pages and pages that she had written herself.
A computer was a wonderful tool, but there was still the click that Fred searched for, the one nanosecond where everything made sense.
Nothing was right unless it made sense, and this case wasn't right. Nothing was right with this case.
The details were there, in the writing, the connections, possible and improbable, scrawled out beneath them, and they were all connected within the sheaves, there was a connection and possibility and it was only a matter of time before she found it.
The thump, thump in the next room was tuned out, and it was only when her eyes drifted up because she was living in equations did she realize Gunn was still in the hotel.
Her mind still swimming with possible connections and clicks, she didn't register the fact right away, instead looking back down at the papers and muttering to herself quietly.
"8:29, he left the club, 9:00 she was shot… he was last seen at 8:45 and she was ten blocks from his house…"
Sitting up, she pushed the chair over to the map on Wesley's desk, frowning as she took her pencil, and a compass, and carefully drew a circle over the area, pushing a thumbtack into both areas, and another at the club.
Pursing her lips, she stared, pushing up her glasses, trying to find the pattern, the rhythm.
There was something in the other disturbances… a pattern… a switch…
It wafted through her mind as her fingers grazed over each thumbtack, each disappearance…
The club should have been at the center.
But it wasn't.
The center was-
"OWW!" Jerked out of her click, Fred suddenly pushed away from the table, stumbling to the door and peeking out, panic flitting over her features.
"Gunn?"
Her boyfriend was standing in the middle of the lobby, holding a bloody hand, pain etching on his features.
"Charles! What did you…" Coming forward, she carefully took his fingers in her palm, studying the ragged cut.
"It's nothin' Fred," he insisted, trying to jerk his hand away.
But Fred was already wiping, reaching with her free hand to Cordelia's desk, finding a Kleenex. "Are you all right?"
"Just got knicked by a dart, it's stupid." Charles had a sheepish expression on his face, but Fred caught none of it, too caught up in her own concern.
Frowning, she rubbed at the cut, wincing at his indrawn hiss, and looking up with a frown. "You're right, it's not that bad."
At that, Gunn's face fell a little. "No, huh?"
She gave him a small smile. "I once had my arm almost severed from my shoulder in Pylea," she drawled, giving a half shrug.
His face changed immediately. "Oooh. And Ouch." Her fingers tightened around his palm and she gave him a smile, expression softening slightly when he grazed her cheek and gave her a sincere grin.
"I've never met anyone like you, you know that?"
The warmth that came so easily with Gunn flooded through her again, and Fred gave a slight sigh, before suddenly the click came again and her eyes widened.
"OH!"
Moving back, she rushed out of the lobby and into Wesley's office, sliding back into her chair and shuffling through her papers.
"Fred?"
"Jennifer wasn't like the others!" she began excitedly. "She wasn't rich, and well… male obviously, and she wasn't a stripper, and she was new… the others were rich and had been coming to a club and no bodies had been found!"
She looked up with eyes glittering as Gunn listened, hands in his pockets, but attentive.
"You see she was different than the others, and the key is in that! The key is in this Jesse guy…" Moving back to the map, she quickly began drawing circles, and then quick, short lines. "Jennifer is the connection… but to what?"
Straightening up, she found herself yawning, hand reaching up to cover her mouth as she closed her eyes in frustration, mind whirling but tired, refusing to want to try and keep up with her rambling thoughts.
Large hands fell on her small shoulders, and Fred leaned back grateful, letting out a soft sigh of contentment as Gunn began to knead into her tired muscles.
"You realize it's almost three in the morning, right? You're running without a full tank of gas, Fred."
She gave a small whine of protest, shaking her head emphatically, "But the click-"
"Will still be there tomorrow," he said gently, turning her until she was facing him. A soft grin slid over his handsome features and he chucked her chin. "Come on girl, a few hours of sleep won't kill you. Wes and you and me will figure this whole thing out tomorrow."
"But-"
"You ain't alone here anymore, Fred. We'll figure this out together tomorrow."
The statement brought a smile to her lips, and she found herself slumping her shoulders in defeat, letting out a sigh and allowing Gunn to lead her out into the lobby.
The door opened, and the couple looked up curiously as Cordelia entered the room.
The hazel eyed ex-princess looked tired in her beautiful dress with beautiful curls, and despite the obvious beauty, for once, Fred did not envy her.
She seemed haggard.
"Hey, Cordelia," Gunn said. "How'd it go?"
"Being perfect is not all it's cracked up to be," she replied, shuffling down the steps and flopping down on the orange couch in the middle of the lobby. "But I got into the exclusives."
Her curiosity got the better of her and Fred excitedly blurted, "Didja see Angel?"
Cordelia's expression was amused, Gunn's- not so much.
Fred blushed, waving to Cordelia to ignore the question.
"Did you guys find anything here?" Cordelia asked instead.
"Fred's almost got the click."
Confusion flitted over Cordelia's features, but Fred only nodded. "It's almost here."
"Oh-kay." Cordelia pushed herself to her feet, and then moved toward the stairs. "Is Angel back?"
"Nope."
The Seer wavered, head snapping back. "He's not?"
"No," Fred said, coming forward, fingers knitting together. "Probably still working…"
"Oh, I BET he's working," Cordelia muttered, sliding fingers through her extensions. "Whatever. I'll be at the hotel."
"Cor, we're at the hotel."
"Fred? Can you explain to the big dumb fighter over there I mean the hotel I'm supposed to be staying at to make sure my cover isn't blown?"
"I got it," Gunn said, squeezing Fred's shoulder when she turned to explain.
Fred obediently closed her mouth.
"I'm beat, so I'll see you guys in the morning, okay?"
"Bye, Cordelia."
Fred wondered at the tired reflection in Cordelia's tone. Her eyes, ever observant, noted the slumped shoulders, the regal walk that seemed weighted with doubt, and even as strong hands led her upstairs, her eyes were still noting, taking in everything.
It was nagging her.
There was still something missing.
--
It was three in the afternoon when Angel stepped into the Lobby to find Wesley seated at his desk, silent, a stern expression on his face as he moved through files and folders.
The vampire noted that the mantle of leadership took its toll on the young Watcher. His tie was loosened, but he still seemed suffocated. Angel wondered blithely when Wesley came to the realization that leadership often became more trouble than it was worth.
A leader didn't do the job because he wanted to, but because he had to. Inherently it was second nature because there was no one else.
And with each decision the danger of losing the lead was more and more discernable.
Coming forward, he pushed back the chair, meeting Wesley's gaze with a slight smile as he held the tape in his hands, shifting it between palms as he waited for Wesley to finish with his work.
"Angel," Wesley muttered, leaning back finally, letting out a sigh as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his glasses.
Wesley was the only guy he knew who still carried around those things.
"Hey Wes, how're things coming along?"
"Slowly." Wesley gave a grim smile. "Unfortunately, this is becoming trying. Gunn and Fred's investigations, while informative, only seem to add more pieces, and the clues refuse to fit together neatly."
"Maybe this will shed some light on it," Angel said, putting the tape on his desk.
Wesley took the videotape, grazing fingers over it before casting curious eyes at his companion.
"From the office?" he asked.
Angel nodded.
"Perhaps it might." He began to move out of his chair but Angel stopped him with an outstretched hand.
"Actually, Wes, before we go to work…"
Wesley sank back into his chair, dark eyes focused on Angel's face. "Yes?"
There was something odd about the situation, centuries old vampire shuffling in his seat in front of a former member of a Council whose sole purpose was to rid the world of his kind.
But Wesley was a friend.
"Things got a little out of control with Cordelia last night."
Wesley seemed neither surprised nor worried. Instead his expression was unreadable, as he leaned back in his chair, pushing out a breath.
When he said nothing, Angel nervously shifted his feet and continued to speak, "She handled it but… it's not the same anymore."
"I see." Wesley's lips pursed, and the cold eyes focused on him again as he pressed his fingers together. "Angel you're telling me this because?"
Startled at the brisk statement, Angel licked his lips, leaning back. "Well… I was thinking…"
"Advice? I'm hardly the person to come to for that. The truth? You know that as well as I. There's a matter of the curse."
"But Wesley-"
"The fact of the matter is you left Buffy for this very reason, Angel. You know the truth as well I do, there is no need to go through it all again. Nothing can come of it."
The short answer had not been what Angel had been expecting. Prickles of anger and indignation gave way to hurt, and he found instead of snapping, he merely responded with a small, "I'm not sure I can go back to thinking any way about Cordelia but as mine, Wesley."
The Watcher was not swayed, but as the stare continued, he softened slightly and said in a more even tone, "Angel, sometimes not everything we want is what is best. I've learned that the hard way."
"Hello?" The voice in the lobby cut the conversation short, as Cordelia placed her bag on the orange couch and came forward, waving to them as she entered the office, brushing errant bangs away from her face.
"Good morning, Cordelia," Wesley said briskly.
Angel gave her a soft smile, but she only gave him a grim smile back.
The reaction settled something cold in his stomach.
"What's that?"
"Angel brought it from the club. I was just about to watch it."
"Sounds like a plan."
Cordelia's night at the hotel had been a rather sleepless one. The extensions were difficult to work with and messy, the make up that had been caked on required quite a bit of ritual to be removed, and as she sat in front of the mirror in her suite, Cordelia had been allowed time for thought.
And regrets.
The truth was, she was playing with a melodramatic fire, and something far worse.
She was playing with Angel's feelings.
The stem of her own emotions regarding the vampire were erratic and at times undefinable. The nature of their relationship had never been questioned until it had twisted and turned, moved in such a way that she was watching strip teases and coming to regard him as HERS, and the switch had been so minute that it had slipped over without her catching it.
Things might have been complicated before, but now the only option that was left in Cordelia's head in a forkless road was to pretend it didn't happen.
Her eyes met Angel's and when her heart gave a shudder that seemed to ache, she wondered exactly how easy that was going to be.
She would have to talk to him, she did owe him that much.
In truth she owed him much more.
Five minutes later, Fred had come down the stairs and Gunn had arrived with their breakfast, and seated around the counter, the impromptu meeting had begun with the watching of the tape.
Fred's face was one of almost interest combined with embarrassed disgust.
Wesley only looked curious, Gunn had his mouth slightly open and Cordelia herself felt the overwhelming fear and dread creep over as the security camera caught every movement that the couple made under the covers.
"This isn't a snuff film, is it?" Angel asked.
Beside him, Cordelia slowly shook her head, using her finger nail to point out the bowtie and the red rose that lay on the floor, small specks on the screen.
"No, this is an orgy."
Her eyes locked with his and suddenly his mouth parted in realization, before heat shuddered down Cordelia's spine and she groaned, fingers tangled in her hair, palms hiding her face.
As her mind roved over possible ways to avoid what was becoming increasingly clear to her and Angel, the others quickly discussed the ramifications of the tape.
"This must have been what Jennifer was talking about," Fred said, pushing forward and pausing the tape, eyes squinting behind her glasses. "They videotaped the sex."
"These red roses… Rebecca Hull must have video-taped everything."
Gunn put it together first, eyes swiveling towards the unusually quiet Angel and Cordelia. "Wait. Cordelia, didn't you say something about a red rose?"
Panicked, Angel jerked his head to Cordelia.
The Seer gave a muffled whimper and held up a single red rose.
"Crap." Wesley sighed, sinking into his chair.
Fred's eyes flitted between Angel and Cordelia, and her face went red.
"You didn't happen to get an invite to this little orgy, did you?"
Face still buried by one palm, Cordelia reached into her purse and plucked out an invitation.
Angel took it, opening it and reading the contents, before closing his eyes and setting it on the counter.
"Oh. I guess that's a 'yes'?" Fred asked, sliding off the counter and staring at the invitation.
"It'll be all right."
When everyone gave Angel a look, he valiantly tried to keep the anxious shake out of his voice, making it a point not to stare at Cordelia.
"It will," he insisted. "We can fake it."
"With cameras?" Cordelia finally looked up to face Angel, hazel orbs darkened with conflict.
Wesley rubbed at his temples, knowing the implications as well as anyone. "Perhaps it would be… better… "
"Yo, man they can't skip. This is the one break we've gotten."
"That's not what I was suggesting," Wesley said slowly.
"You've got another idea?"
Everyone stared at him, and he forced out the suggestion. "Perhaps taking up with … other partners for the night."
In theory, it was a sound plan. Sex was something Angel and Cordelia could pull off, if it wasn't with each other.
But Cordelia looked horrified, Angel dismissed the thought immediately and both ground out, "NO."
"I wasn't suggest-"
"Wesley I'm not having SEX with a male whore just to get a lead, okay?"
"And what about Angel?" Fred put forth, fingers twisting in her hands. "He … 'cause the clause-"
"Actually…" Angel began, but let the sentence die when Cordelia shot him a glare. "Cordelia and I can fake."
"I don't think that-"
"Wesley it's the only way." Cordelia shuddered visibly, cheeks flushed and eyes watery, but her tone was firm. "We can't afford to pass this… we'll figure it out. Angel… can I talk to you?"
Immediately the vampire nodded, and together they moved out of the office and into the basement, closing the door behind them.
The quiet in the office was disheartening.
Gunn shifted from foot to foot. "They haven't figured out they love each other yet, have they?"
"Actually they have," Wesley mumbled between fingers pressed to his mouth, staring hard at the door.
"Oh."
Fred stared at the door, feeling her heart sink slightly, looking back at the men. "Do you think they can do it?"
Wesley sighed, rubbing at his scalp before sitting up. "Personally I believe when we miss personal with business, one can never tell."
"I think they can do it," Gunn said resolutely.
The faith in their friends warmed Fred, and she offered him a smile.
Wesley gave him a skeptical glare.
"I do," he said again. "Cordelia and Angel aren't dumb. They know what's at stake."
"Do they?" Wesley asked, crossing his arms. "Perhaps this is the one time we ask what is more important: the mission or…"
"Angel wouldn't-"
"I don't know Fred," he said heavily.
The silence descended again, and all three looked toward the closed door.
--
"We're not going to be able to pull this off, are we?"
Angel and Cordelia were standing on opposite sides of the large room, avoiding eyes until she spoke.
He looked up, saw the grim sadness, and managed his own small protest. "Maybe we can."
She shook her head, blew out her breath, "Angel, if what happened last night hadn't happened, if I had been able to control myself then MAYBE, but if I can't even-"
"Hey." Coming forward, his touch was gentle, hesitant on her shoulders, until he was sure she would allow it. Offering her a soft smile, his hand cupped her chin, forcing their gazes to lock. "Cordelia there were two pairs of lips."
"Yeah. And that's the scary part." She pulled away, moving past him, removing her warmth and leaving him feeling cold.
"Cordelia-"
"We have to talk about it but not now, not until this is over." Her voice was resolute, her tone leaving nothing to argue, as she crossed her arms, barring herself from him, from allowing him to try to hold her again. Her eyes were moist, but strangely hard. "If we're going to pull this off we're going to have to stop with the training, stop with the seeing each other anywhere but at this party and at the club."
"Cordelia-"
"It's the only way, and you know it." He pushed out a breath, unclenched his fists, and nodded.
They couldn't be friends now, not with what it led to. Business only, between friends, because if they had to pretend to be lovers the line couldn't be blurred.
"You're right."
Cordelia swallowed, not looking at him in the silence that followed. "I'll stay at the hotel, the OTHER hotel, and I'll get Fred to fill me in, until after the party."
Again the reality of who he was came back to haunt him, and Angel cringed, oddly grateful for the reminder of the soul, of the danger, and oddly hateful of his very nature that kept him from the reality-
Things would never be easy. Not with her, not with anyone.
But with a Seer to whom he was bound… it was nearly impossible.
"I think we could have done it," he muttered.
She rose an eyebrow.
"Well you really think I could have performed with camera watching everything?"
Her mouth threatened to tug into a smile with a twitch.
"Never filmed, huh?"
"Never had to." The grin was almost wolfish, and the awkwardness broken, Cordelia smiled.
The trembling came so quickly that he hardly had time to react before she was on the floor screaming in pain, clutching her head.
In half a second he was next to her, pulling her into his arms as her body writhed under the pain of the vision, her screams sliding through his body and searing his soul.
"Cordelia…"
It was over as quickly as it had become, but it left the formerly erect girl a quivering mass of wounded flesh in his arms, limp as she buried herself in his embrace.
Unseeing, Angel pressed his lips to her hair, pulling her closer, the sounds of feet pounding down the staircase signaling the others had heard the cries as well.
Fred paused, and then muttered an almost silent 'oh dear' before she piped up with a panicked, "I'll get the pills and water!" before clamoring back up the stairs and yanking the door open.
Wesley's face was gentle as he pulled Cordelia away from Angel's embrace.
The tightening of his arms and growl came almost instinctively, and when Wesley gave him a look, he realized what he was doing, and hesitantly loosened his hold, letting her breath as her eyes opened.
"Cordelia? Wha'd you see, girl?" Gunn asked, hands on his knees.
"Uh…" her voice was shaken, masked with pain as she leaned back into Angel's arms, eyes closing as she took several ragged gasps. "A room… a statue… people in hoods… tattoo on the right hand of the lead guy…" She shuddered and Angel tightened his hold again, and she welcomed it, whimpering into him. His right palm stroked her hair softly.
Wesley's eyes were tinged with moisture, but he pressed, "Cordelia?"
"A woman… they sacrificed a woman to this statue… oh God…" her eyes opened as the tears drifted down her cheeks freely. "She's got a red rose on her lapel."
--
"How is she?" Angel asked immediately, coming into the room, pulling on the jacket as Gunn sank into the chair.
"Sleeping. Fred stayed with her," he said, rubbing at his bald head. "Says the pills were helping. Should be okay for the party tomorrow night."
"And the headache?" Wesley turned from studying the map, coming to hear what Gunn said with Angel.
"I don't know." Gunn bit his lip, shrugging at the question. "She won't talk to me about it. Fred said she'd try to pry, but the last time she tried to talk to Cordelia about the visions she wound up calling Cordelia Angel's bitch so-"
"She did?" Angel asked, his voice harsh.
Gunn turned his head, and at the blanched expression, hastily explained. "Lassie. She called Cordelia your Lassie, But you know Cordelia. Female dog- Angel's bitch."
"Ah."
Angel looked slightly uncomfortable.
"Angel shouldn't you be-"
"Yeah, I'm on it." He walked toward the door, and paused, turning back. "I'll keep my cell on. If you hear anything-"
"I'll give you a ring."
Angel stepped toward the door, and turned back again. "When I get back you're teaching me to use my voice mail."
Gunn gave him a smirk and turned back to Wesley, who was already seated behind the desk.
"Location?"
"Already on it," Gunn said, sliding the chair forward and watching as Wesley went back to work. "But Cordelia could only sense it was in a big house, I looked up the dude's Address, Donald Guy's, it's pretty mansion like."
"And no timeframe?"
"She didn't know."
"Bloody hell." Wesley groaned, running fingers through his hair, looking tired and frustrated, and not nearly happy.
Gunn frowned. "Hey Wes? You okay man?"
"Not particularly no," Wesley responded, looking up. "I can't find the damn symbol Angel described in any of these books, we've got a potential sacrifice but we don't know where or when it will take place, Cordelia and Angel will have faux sex in a matter of days and-"
"Okay, I get all that," Gunn said, waving his arm. "But that ain't what I'm talking about."
Wesley paused, confused.
"Ever since that bastard Billy you've been-"
Interrupted by a heavy sigh, Gunn closed his mouth as Wesley stood, reaching for a book and plopping it into Gunn's lap. "Look for the symbol here."
"Damn. Shut me up why don't you."
"And before I forget you owe Lorne an apology."
Gunn's jaw tensed slightly, as Wesley turned back to his desk and began scribbling away.
"Yo, man. That ain't gonna work. You don't gotta be all pissy just because-"
"Gunn, drop it."
"Fred don't blame you for-"
"DROP it." The hands slapped at the table and Gunn jumped, eyes narrowing at the uncharacteristic behavior.
"Wesley… man, this bottling things up ain't good for you."
"You'd like the truth, Gunn?" Wesley snapped, eyes flashing. "All right then, since everyone is SO intent on focusing on MY problems when we're in the middle of the case, out with it then, I don't understand why someone as horribly conflicted as Angel or yourself can possibly be pivotal for these women and why I'm destined to be alone. I don't understand the anger in my heart and I don't understand the fear. What I do understand that had it not been for one night, things might have ended up differently and you wouldn't have gotten to her first."
The words came out in a torrent, and Wesley regretted them as soon as they were said.
Gunn was startled, the hurried rush of words taking a minute to process through his friend's thoughts, but the blank expression did nothing to alleviate the stress.
Slowly, the words sank in, and Wesley swallowed down the guilt as Gunn shifted in his seat.
"Oh." The younger black man leaned forward, hands tangled together to form on fist as his elbows rested on his knees. "Damn."
Wesley was quiet, turning away, taking in a breath.
"Shit, Wes," he heard behind him. "You… damn… you should have told me before. You should have told me."
Wesley placed a hand on the bookshelf behind him, attempting to steady himself.
"Gunn," he began heavily.
"I would have stepped aside man, I would have done that for you."
"Gunn-"
"But it's too late man. It's too late. I asked you and you said go for it and I need her now. I need her Wesley."
Wesley closed his eyes at the implication, at the hurt in Gunn's voice, at Gunn's need not to get angry.
"Charles," he turned, coming forward imploringly. "I have no intention of acting on any of these feelings. I'm sorry-"
"Don't," Gunn snapped, the anger finally seeping through, the body tense and tight. "Don't- she'll feel guilty and… shit man you should have told me." He shook his head, body almost trembling. "I think I love her Wesley."
"Gunn-"
"That's a fact, man. And I'm gonna make her love me. Don't get in the way of that."
There was enough street in the sentence to make Wesley understand completely, and even as the anger clouded Gunn's eyes, Wesley had to admire the man's restraint.
"I understand, Gunn."
Charles swallowed, and then leaned back in his chair, opening his book.
"Where's the picture of that symbol?"
Wesley handed it to him silently, and Gunn took it, perusing the pages.
As Wesley sat down, Gunn offered one last sentence.
"Get some help, Wesley. No one should carry those issues alone."
Wesley froze, and closed his eyes, but Gunn said nothing else on the subject, and relieved, Wesley began his work.
When Wesley ventured a request about a certain file, Gunn answered him,
and neither spoke about the rift that seemed gruffly apparent.
