By Misty Flores – mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: Lorne has his hands full when three men who love three brunettes reveal three stories that meld surprisingly – and the three brunettes go missing.
Genre: Angel: The Series, Comedy/Romance/Action
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Faith
Rating: R for sexual situations
Special Thanks to: Vanessa, and her beautiful beta reading abilities.
Additional Notes on Chapters
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CHAPTER FOUR
--
Present – The Hyperion
"What?"
Lorne winced, closing his eyes at the anger that came so blatantly in the form of one word. Poor Angel was having a hell of a night. What with the Cordelia confusion and the revelation of Faith's true intentions and now of course – the resurgence of Gunn's somewhat shady connections.
Promises not to judge aside, even Lorne felt the urge to smack the young warrior upside the head. And a very nice bitch slap, at that.
"Yo, dog. I told you not to judge."
"It's rather hard not to, Gunn," Wesley began quietly. "When I gave you explicit terms regarding -"
"Oh, and what would YOU have done, huh?" he muttered angrily.
"Charles," Angel began, voice low and threatening, almost a dangerous purr.
"Angel, I'm here, aren't I?" Charles spat back. Angel's eyes narrowed, but Gunn paid him no attention, instead directing his gaze to the counter, leaning his forehead against it and closing his eyes. "Look," he started in a slower, calmer voice. "I needed to do this. I tried to tell you, but -"
"When did you try to tell me?"
"OH, that's right! SOMEBODY didn't want to LISTEN because SOMEBODY was a little CORDY obsessed. Ain't THAT a surprise?"
"You have been rather obsessed…" Wesley trailed off when Angel's glare moved onto him. "Never mind," he muttered under his breath.
"Not helping, Wes."
"ARGH." Lorne stood, and without another word, backhanded each and every head.
"OWW!"
"HEY!"
"LORNE!"
"You kids are driving me crazy!" Lorne groaned, hands slamming at the counter. "'It's his fault!' 'It's his fault!' Kiddies, I don't HAVE children. I consider that a GIFT. At this point, CONNOR is more emotionally mature than your stunted little brains."
"Hey," Angel huffed.
"Face it, Broody Buns, it's true." Lorne leaned forward, eyes squinting. "I bet I can pinpoint exactly what you did following your little Seer's beautiful convoluted dream. You went home and brooded."
"That was easy."
"Oh really? Well then, THEN, you came to a life affirming decision that being 'normal' meant suddenly pushing her out of her life so she could live out what was left of it 'happy', never realizing of course that the only TRUE happiness she's ever experienced has been with you," Wesley summed up.
Angel shifted uncomfortably.
"And THEN you went and tried to finagle your way into pushing her away, only to realize you couldn't and drove her crazy by going stalker on her pretty little ass," Gunn finished.
Angel sat, contrite and disturbed.
"Shut up."
--
Tuesday Mid-Morning – The Hyperion Hotel
It was odd how the ache in his heart came back with so much familiarity. The chasm where the heart should have been - now pierced with a slow, throbbing fire - seemed empty; dead. This was nothing new for the vampire. Years of murder, chaos, passion and a love of all things dark and horrific, had left behind a shell of the beast he once was. The only sparkling vestige of his existence still in prominence was the soul that had been returned to him. For years, memories were the only living aspect of his presence - a dead body and a splintered mind added nothing to it.
When he had known love, he had known life. And in walking away, he had promised himself never again to allow the kind of recklessness that had resulted in the broken soul left to him, the moment Buffy had walked away from his life, away from his office, and away from his skewed reality.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Liam's was a soul that was unrepentant when it came to love. In three years another had snuck inside, garnering his affections. More than affection, for in the slow, all consuming, all accepting love of Cordelia, there was a storm. Darkness melded with light and Angel became not the redemptive hero of Sunnydale, but just a man. A man in love with his best friend. A man willing to cross dimensions, and free devils and commit cold blooded murder against the wishes of those who held a promise of humanity over him, in order to set her free.
He had deluded himself before. To keep Cordelia alive, to keep Cordelia free, to keep her out of pain and smiling, he told himself these were his reasons for what he did. That was the reason for his blind obsession and need.
Only now, in the shape of her own words, his selfishness manifested itself with accurate precision. The clarity came clear and Angel hated himself. Cordelia wasn't the reason he had done those things. No, the reasons had been purely self servicing. He had wanted her with him. For her to experience the bittersweet release of heaven would mean that he would be stuck here on earth without her.
For three years she had been beside him. For three years he had fought to keep her there, with her smiles and her quips and her beautifully expressive eyes that seared deep into his very soul. For three years she had held his hand, held his head, held his body and even held his child.
Love had blossomed, grown, matured.
But at what cost to her?
Twenty-one, and the hazel in her irises was tired. Twenty-one and dying. Twenty-one and doomed to spend the rest of her already too-short life with a vampire that could offer her nothing - and had offered her nothing - but the prospect of an incredibly horrible and painful death.
And all this, because she wanted to be remembered as the one that made him laugh.
The grim chuckle that escaped from his throat was almost ironic, and Angel blinked back the tears as he stared down at his child: his Connor, sleeping peacefully, never aware of his father's turmoil.
Steps on the marble outside made Angel look up expectantly as a flash of irritation moved over him. It was early, and now, in the wake of his contemplation and the impending heartbreak of his decision, there was only time for reflection, memories and pain.
But Wesley, who opened the door to his office and turned on the lamp, flooding the room with the oh-so-arrogant yellow light, never caught the signals that the vampire wanted to be left alone with his child.
It was his office, after all.
"Oh, good. You're here." Wesley came forward, and Angel stared up blankly from his wooden chair. For a second he contemplated ignoring him.
"What?" he asked, finally settled on a short, almost growl.
"Now that we have some time alone," Wesley began, shrugging off his coat and settling into his desk chair, leaning back into the seat, regarding his friend with a grim expression. "I was hoping we could discuss our present situation."
Angel's lip quirked. "Situation?"
"Faith, Angel." Wesley's fingernails rapped against the wood in nervous anger. "In short, I don't trust her."
Angel once again gave a short chortle, eyes drifting back down to the child. "Right. That's not a surprise, Wesley."
"Angel, I need you to listen -"
"Wesley, I understand that you have issues with Faith, okay? But she needs help, and we're the only ones -"
"Yes, I can see you're trying very hard to help her - just as long as it doesn't interrupt your 'Cordelia Obsessing' -"
"Don't." Angel's voice was short, dangerous. Cool, dark eyes fixed on Wesley narrowing in warning. "Don't you dare turn this into being about my obsession with her. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her."
Wesley let out his breath in long, ragged gasp. Closing his eyes, he forced on himself a calmer tone, more reasonable. "Angel. We're all aware of the severity of Cordelia's condition -"
"No, Wesley, I don't think you are. Because if you were, you wouldn't be sitting here trying to talk about Faith, when -"
"She's not the only person HERE, Angel! Matters NEED attention to -"
Angel stood, turning away when the child let out a complaining mew against the rising voices. "Then you take care of them. You're the boss now, remember."
Wesley slammed his hands on the desk, disrupting several pieces of papers as he angrily replied, "You're the one that invited her here. Perhaps you'd like to take just a PIECE of the responsibility?"
"I'm not evading anything, Wesley." Angel's voice was harsh, and he set his gaze back down on his child, before beginning again, once again in control of his emotions. "Faith is conflicted, hurt and confused. She's trying to find redemption in a world that doesn't forget, in a world where she CAN'T forget. What she did haunts her every day of her life. We can't crowd her in that. All we can do is be there for her."
Wesley sighed. "That's just it, Angel. You're not."
Angel heaved out a long, painful breath. "I will be. Soon. Not now. I can't now."
--
She hated her damned habit of eavesdropping. Like an addiction she couldn't quite shake, Faith continued to listen, leaning against the chipped wood, eyes hollow and face strangely passive. Wesley continued to rant, Angel continued to not care, and Faith felt the incredible sinking feeling in her stomach descend a little lower.
She would have found Angel's trust in her uplifting, had she not been so aware that the reason for his 'faith' was that she was the farthest thing on his mind. He didn't care. She was here, she was safe. That was the extent of his worry for her. She was just another friend now. Her eyes closed as Wesley continued to discuss every detail in her life, everything she had done her damnedest to forget.
The mayor. Buffy. Riley. Xander. Himself.
She shuddered, stepping back away from the door, suddenly not wanting to hear anymore. Not from him, not from anyone... but especially, NOT from HIM.
"What're you doing?"
The voice behind her startled her. She gave a slight jump, reflexes kicking in before she had the chance to think, and her arm stopped seconds before it made contact with Gunn's throat.
Charles blinked, swallowing as he stepped back slightly. "Oh-kay, Miss Thing. You need to chill for a minute."
Faith felt awkward, with the tension in her stomach coupled with the sudden nausea that came with it. Sucking in her breath, she just pushed past him, moving towards lobby doors. She jerked backwards and narrowly missed colliding with Cordelia's slim form as the Seer suddenly appeared behind them.
"WHOA! Watch it! That was almost a head on collision, retard!"
"Move," Faith bit out.
Cordelia blinked, mouth parting slightly as she cocked her head, studying the obviously frazzled Slayer. "What crawled up your butt?"
"Nothing but your ass," Faith snapped back, moving around her and leaving Cordelia perplexed as she looked after her.
"Good one," she answered dryly, shaking her head and then nodding in Faith's direction. "What's with Psycho Bitch?"
Charles shrugged, shooting her an uncertain glance. "Beat's the hell out of me."
Cordelia pursed her lips, eyes looking back to Faith as the female slouched onto the big orange couch, a dark expression on her face. Had it been anyone else, Cordelia would have pried. Prying was, after all, what she did best, and certainly now - after a good night's rest, a lot of painkillers and only a dull ache in her head - she was in the best condition for it. But the last time she had tried to pry into Faith, she had ended up with a black eye the size of China.
Hence, Cordelia instead moved the opposite direction, following Gunn into the office where hushed voices silenced as soon as she opened the door. Angel and Wesley both were standing, torn away from their conversation with expressions of irritation and anger.
Gunn stood tensely behind her, his jaw ticking as he took in the scene, but Cordelia, for some reason tremendously determined to only think 'happy' thoughts today, forced a smile on her face and penetrated the blanket of tension. "Hey guys!"
"Cordelia," Wesley said, crossing his arms.
Angel said nothing, only shifted his child in his arms as Connor squirmed.
"I don't know what the bitching is about, but you'll stop it right now. Tension is NOT good for Connor. Dr. Spock says -"
"Right, 'cause Dr. Spock got so much experience on that damned Enterprise."
Shooting Gunn a dirty look, Cordelia turned to Angel, smiling at him brightly. "I stopped by Macy's, there was a sale, and I found the perfect little outfit for Connor! You want to try it on?"
Angel stared at her, with those intense dark brown eyes of his, and Cordelia found her smiling faltering at the look on his face.
Okay. So he hadn't forgotten about the whole conversation the night before. Damn.
Trying to forgo the inevitable confrontation, because Angel, being Angel, had probably stayed up all night, and brooded about the whole damn thing, she reached for the child. As if in reminder, the pain in her head flared up again.
Immediately, her hands retracted, her smile sliding off her face completely.
Angel's ever observant stare caught the slip, and he held his child closer, mouth twitching downwards.
"We weren't fighting, Cordelia," Wesley began heavily.
"You bought Connor an outfit, Cordy?" Angel said suddenly, coming forward. "Let's go try it on."
"Damn. When did Angel get all fashion conscious?"
Angel ignored Gunn's comment. Instead, all focus was on gathering his gumption to pull off what he had finally decided this had to come to, before Cordelia smiled at him once more, and another flicker of sadness crossed her face.
"Angel…"
"I'll meet you up there, take Connor."
Again, she stepped away from the baby, almost as if the child had the plague. This time Wesley frowned, looking between Cordelia and the baby. "Cordelia?"
"Just bring him up, I'll set it out," she said hastily, backing out
of the room, and closing the door.
Charles stared after her, slightly open mouthed, before turning to
glance quizzically at his companions. "She suddenly develop an aversion
to baby holdin', or what?"
"It's the visions, isn't it," Wesley said, eyes widening with realization as his voice drifted to a soft whisper. "She doesn't think it's safe."
Angel said nothing, just shook his head as he moved forward.
Charles took a breath, taking a step toward him. "Angel…"
"Charles." Gunn looked back at Wesley, and the older man shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Whatever it is, let it wait."
"What if it can't?"
But Angel was already out the door, and Wesley crossed his arms, looking at him expectantly. "Something wrong?"
English's voice was almost tender and Charles felt something give in his heart as he remembered Wesley's hurt face all those months ago. Would he understand?
"Nothing that can't wait," he found himself saying numbly.
Wesley gave him a dubious look, but Gunn shrugged, giving him a crooked smile before moving out of the office as quickly as he could. His steps faltered as he looked up the staircase. He looked around the hotel, heart skipping a beat before making his decision. Anxiety clouded his eyes, and he ignored the Slayer who was watching him from her position on the orange couch.
Taking the steps two at a time, he moved as quickly as he could to Fred's room. The door was closed, but not locked, and Charles, who really did have a respect for privacy, felt even more inclined to hesitantly knock. But he froze seconds before his fingers rapped against the wood and Charles, suddenly needing extra support, leaned against the wall, forehead falling against the flaking wallpaper in a desperate act of confliction.
This was little Fred in there. Little Fred, who had looked at him with eyes of a traitor last night. Little Fred, who thought nothing of sitting her little delicate frame in his lap, who smiled at him with those big dark eyes. Little Fred, who he had hurt when she was in the process of trying to protect him. God… who was the last person that had wanted to protect HIM for a change? Cordelia… his sister…
Pushing away from the wall, he knocked hesitantly, taking in a surprised breath when the door creaked open. "Fred?"
There was no answer, and since that wasn't exactly a 'don't come in, I hate your guts', Gunn stepped forward with encouragement, moving into the darkened room, eyes glancing over the walls until he saw the movement in the corner. His eyes suddenly watered, Gunn's fists clenched when he saw Fred pressed against the corner slab, scribbling on it with such intensity, it seemed her very life depended on it.
"Oh, shit. Fred…"
She froze, pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips, turning ever so slowly, to view the man in the room who stood stock still.
"What are you doin' here?" she asked flatly.
"Fred…"
"I thought you'd be back with your new family."
The words sent a reaction through his body, a visible shudder as they cut through him. Trepidation gave way to the ever more present guilt, before Charles stopped resisting the urge to speak. "Fred, I'm sorry."
"You already said that."
"You didn't believe it."
She turned back to her walls. "I believed it."
Silence followed, weary and blanketing and deadly to the bubble of hope that had risen in Gunn, that he might have been able to fix this, make it like it was before. "I'm not giving up on anyone, Fred. I'm not leaving anyone. It's just some routine hunts, Fred. It's nothing bad. You're over reacting."
There was an almost insane little chuckle that followed that, her body shaking slightly before she started to scribble faster. "Sure. That's what the platha said when the monros ate their guts for cheating in the card game but sure, why would I care?"
"Fred."
"Don't go, Charles." She was quiet, back still kept to him. "Just… don't go. I don't want you lost. I got lost and I don't want you to get lost."
The words tugged at him, and for a second he considered telling her he had changed his mind, hoping to see the smile light up her face. Maybe she would even jump into his arms, chattering about how she knew it, how she had always believed in him.
It was a cool little fantasy. But he couldn't smile, and he couldn't consider that.
"Don't you see, Fred?" he asked, tone low. "This is my fault. What's happening to them is MY fault."
She paused her scribblings. "That's not logical," she said immediately, before resuming her writing.
"I left them. I couldn't protect them, and I let them get lost. They need a leader, Fred. That's why they're turning to Holtz. Maybe if I can… drop the ball on Holtz, they'll leave him, you know? Maybe you guys don't need me here, but they -"
"We don't NEED YOU?!" The pen dropped out of her hand as she whirled, eyes wide and angry. "We don't NEED YOU?! Charles, we need you every -" she forced herself to stop, closing her eyes and taking in her breath. "Why are you going to ruin this?" she whispered finally, voice plaintive and soft. "Why are you going to ruin all the trust we have?"
"I'm asking you to trust me now, Fred," he said slowly. "Please. Just one person to trust me. I need you -"
"Charles, trust ME. We need you here."
He swallowed, hands unclenching as his breath came out in pants, suddenly unable to look at her. "You don't trust me."
"Charles."
"You so worried about trust getting ruined, Fred?" he whispered. "Too late."
"Charles -"
But he was already gone, and Fred found herself sinking onto her bed, hands in her lap, feeling utterly helpless and alone.
--
Present – Kate Lockley's Apartment
"Damn." Kate leaned back, her head cushioned by a leopard patterned pillow, as her eyes grew dark in contemplation. "The angst factor is just getting a little hard to handle."
Faith's eyes were on Fred's distracted form when she answered. "Kate, where the hell have you been? Compared to Graduation, this shit was a piece of cake."
Hazel eyes swiveled to pin the Slayer under their gaze. "Weren't you kind of unconscious in the hellness of Grad?"
"My point exactly."
"You two have known each other since graduation?" Fred asked, her head bobbing up.
"Haven't read the file?"
"Didn't mention anythin' about you two."
"Faith and I were never exactly… close… in high school…" Cordelia managed, a smirk coming to her lips. "Closest we came to that… umm… nevermind."
"What?" Kate asked, genuinely curious.
"Xander," Faith finished. She shared a glance with Cordelia, and both girls immediately looked away.
"Ohhh…" Fred grimaced. "Kinda hopin' that wouldn't come out…"
"So you DID read the file."
"Just made the connection."
"WHAT connection?!" Kate nearly hopped off the sofa in her agitation to get the story.
"Cop Lady's getting damn interested in our love lives, isn't she?" Faith said, studying the ex-detective dubiously.
"She's got no life," Cordelia said, shrugging. "Living vicariously."
"Oh, bite me, Cordelia," Kate snapped. "You brought it up."
"Did you just tell me to bite you?" Cordelia asked, eyes bright with surprise. Faith let a slow, soft smile trace her lips, reaching up to run long fingers through dark locks.
"I think we're getting to her, C."
"You know what? Tell Fred to get you the file," Cordelia finally said, leaning back and sighing. "Because I'm still kinda hung up on when Faith and Wesley went from scar obsessing, to getting groiny."
"What the hell about you?" Faith snapped back.
"You know about me."
"WE don't."
"Oh, hell, we'll get to me," Cordelia responded, pulling her legs into her lap. "Spill, Faith."
--
Tuesday – The Hyperion Lobby
Wesley had a tendency to overanalyze, to view other people's problems and still place the blame of the situation on himself. He knew that. He also was quite aware of the fact that with this self-imposed responsibility, there came a certain curse. As his fingers fumbled with the knob, he was also 'completely aware' that he was just angry, disturbed, concerned and conflicted enough to throw something very large and very heavy at the next person who walked into the hotel.
Consequently, it was quite lucky for Faith - and himself, if Faith's reflexes hadn't weakened - that she was already seated in the Lobby, watching him with dark eyes, reminding him once again of a panther. Orbs, dark and brilliant, lingered over his body, her gaze a mimic of a predatory stalker. An accurate description, he felt, in the reaction he gave it; the nervous fear that once again she was viewing him as what had come so easily before: victim.
Her legs were crossed, her arms in a same entanglement and when their eyes locked, that slow, simple smile floated over her pronounced features. Once again, Wesley felt that stab inside of him. What was it about Faith's smile that made it so dangerous?
When women smiled, it was a beautiful thing. When Cordelia smiled, or when Fred offered her own unreserved grin, the world lit up, harps played and any man in the room - Angel included - would smile back, because that was all they could do. Faith, with a slow curve of full lips, garnered a different reaction altogether. Her smile twisted into his soul and put him on edge; made him grab the doorknob a bit harder, brace himself - and for what, he wasn't quite sure.
"Faith," he began, wincing inwardly when he realized the tone came out somewhat breathless.
"Wes." The shortening of his name came off easy and familiar, something this moment certainly was not. "You look frumpy this morning."
He let an eyebrow rise, disdainfully, presumably of its own accord. "It's been a rough couple of days. But I'm sure you're more than aware of that."
"Hmm. Not exactly a Hallmark moment, I'll grant that."
Wesley glanced toward the stairs. "And everyone is where?"
"Cordy went up the stairs, Angel ran up after her, Gunn followed after him, and I don't think the Crazy Taco chick ever came down at all."
"Her name is Fred."
The deliberate, firm tone only served to make her smile broaden and, irritated, Wesley contemplated wondering exactly what was so funny about him. He squelched the urge to ask when he reminded himself she would most likely tell him and heaven forgive him for his lack of control if Faith managed to wear down at his already frazzled nerves.
But instead of pressing the issue, surprisingly, the Slayer only stood, eyes continued to be locked with his. "You like fish, Wes?"
The unexpected question made him blink. "Pardon?"
"Woke up a little itchy for some action… must be the move from the three foot cell I was in. I got a lead about a vampire's nest down by Redondo Beach."
"I see."
Faith's posture was not aggressive, but it wasn't lax either. There was something different about the way she regarded him today, with her eyes continually shifting to his own, as if searching for and asking for something in return.
Faith had never requested a thing, her philosophy on life had been quite clear: want, take, have.
It made his lips purse and his eyebrows curl together, regarding her suspiciously. "And where did you get this lead?"
"Does it matter?" Stupid question, Faith immediately answered herself. Of course it mattered. Hadn't she been subject to hearing an entire conversation about Wesley's lack of trust in her? Fuck, it wasn't like she CARED. He was going to think that way about her no matter what the hell she did.
Came with the territory of being tortured, she guessed.
Flinching slightly at the memory, she kept her chin held high, regarding him, not willing to lose any more ground to him. She wasn't going to admit anything and she damn well wasn't going to ask him for it.
"You want me to come with you?"
The words made her insides squelch - something she wasn't exactly receptive to. Eyes hardening in automatic defense, she came forward, arms hanging loosely at her side. "Not really - but considering you're all for being my little shadow, what with your trust issues and all, I thought you'd want to know."
Wesley was quiet, dark orbs roving over her intensely and muscled arms flexing; an action that she noticed as she broke from his gaze to rove over them.
"Are you testing me, Faith?" he asked, the accent making each word unmistakable.
"I don't know, Wesley," she responded evenly, her eyes as cold as flint as she crossed her arms, standing. "Maybe I'm just testing myself."
The hint of danger in her tone was enough to make him hitch his breath but to his credit, he merely let it out slowly, gathering his strength, before letting his head down in a slow nod. "Let's go."
--
Present – The Hyperion Hotel
"Faith had a lead?" Angel's eyes, dark and deep, reflected in the Lobby lights as his gaze wandered over the hotel curiously.
"Precisely." Shifting in his seat, obviously uncomfortable in his white starched shirt, Wesley pulled at his collar with a grimace. "Where on earth would Faith get a lead that quickly?"
The baby monitor, until then sitting quietly on the counter beside them, suddenly erupted in static, mimicking the sounds of a young voice wailing.
"Oh, boy. Baby's up - I'LL GET IT - you stay." Lorne held out his hand, stopping Angel's rise from his stool. "None of you move, until I get back. I mean it. I'm hearing how this ends TONIGHT."
Scampering up the stairs, Lorne left behind three quiet, somber men.
Charles Gunn shifted on his stool, reaching up to scratch at the dry blood on his forehead. "Man. This is disgusting. I can't believe you eat this shit."
Wesley gave another scowl, gently holding the now lukewarm steak against his eye, looking quite the pitiful sight.
"You think I have time to change?" Angel asked suddenly.
--
end chapter