The streets were dark when the trio of demon hunters turned toward the Hyperion, each harboring their own silent concern for Cordelia, not to mention a few straggling worries for Fred as well. The sooner they could return, the faster their worries could be abated.
It had been three weeks since Wesley had made that first frantic call to Angel, summoning him to Cordelia's apartment. In those intervening weeks, they had seen Cordelia vacillate between steely determination and lingering fear and the men had continued their individual bouts of worry. The most distressing aspect of their focus was the lack of an arrest in conjunction with the seer's ordeal.
When Kate finally called to say that there simply wasn't enough evidence to go on to keep the case on the front burner of the LAPD sex crimes unit, they had surprised her by not arguing. She had been quick to add that they were not closing the case, just pulling it out of the forefront of the current on-going investigations. She had also promised to follow it up personally.
As much as all three men would have liked to tear out the throat of the person responsible for Cordelia's ordeal, reason had won out over revenge. Cordelia didn't need them to rush off and very probably get arrested for attacking anyone who might look like the type of person who would do such a thing. They instead stood back and wallowed in their inability to act on their impulses. There was a first time for everything, Cordelia mused.
Cordelia had been adamant about refusing to be involved in the women's support group Kate had mentioned to Angel after her interview in the hospital. At first, her refusal had concerned them all, but when they took the time to think it over it just made sense. Cordelia hated to admit to anyone that she might possibly need help, of course she wouldn't want to admit it to a whole group of women, even if they were in the same position she found herself to be in. She was determined to see herself healed on her own terms and without outside help and no one dared argue with her.
She had surprised them all with her ability to work through the worst of her distress with only minimal visits to Lorne. Determination alone seemed enough to keep her going most days, even on the bad days when she would jump at the slightest noise and flinch away from shadows. And when that determination wavered and threatened to crash, taking her teetering accomplishments with it, she had all of them to support her and make sure she had a solid place to land. And land she did, every time… feet first.
The hotel sprung up from the surrounding buildings as the trio drew ever nearer to the front door. There were few lights on in the grand old building, only the windows in the lobby were illuminated, creating a comforting and welcoming glow for the demon hunters. But even though the hotel was sparsely lit, it still symbolized the two women who were waiting within.
With a dull thud that reverberated through the anteroom, the front door swung open and landed solidly against the wall. Three sets of footfalls followed as well as the clink of weaponry. They had returned.
From the far table, Cordelia glanced up and smiled in greeting. She was inordinately pleased that she hadn't jumped at their entry. Things were improving, slowly but they were definitely on the right path. "Did you get 'em?"
"Yes, they've been adequately dispatched," Wesley said as he lay his fighting axe down on top of the neatly stacked files that were perched on Cordelia's desk.
"Not to mention, dismembered," Gunn added, following suit and adding his own axe to the desk's mix of paper and metal. "When are we gonna go back to getting the nasties that you don' have to chop up into little bits?"
Only Angel passed the desk without setting his weapon down before crossing the floor to be nearer Cordelia's position at the table.
Throwing her hands up in the air, she said, "Not on weapon duty, thank you very much. The nails! Notice the manicure?"
Angel smiled at the outrage that Cordelia emoted. She was back. He tossed the sword over his shoulder as he continued to the table, hearing it clatter on the tiles somewhere behind him.
"So who needs to be patched because I'm tellin' ya' I want to get this over with so you can drive me home and I can go to bed." Cordelia glanced up the stairwell at Fred who stood poised to descend, a grin lighting her features. "But first things first… where are the tacos? I'm starving."
From the pocket of his duster, Angel produced a brown paper bag, his eyes brightening at Cordelia's delighted reaction.
"And the salsa?" Fred asked as she stepped onto the bottom step.
"Got ya' covered," Gunn assured her, pulling a similar bag from his own jacket.
Angel studied Cordelia in the pale lamplight as she waited for him to distribute the requested refreshments. There would still be bad days, he accepted that, but Cordelia—his Cordelia—was back to stay.
~the end
lengthy author's note: I feel compelled to say a few things now that this has drawn to a conclusion. First let me say that although I began it of my own accord, "None Goes His Way Alone" has been the hardest story I've ever tried to write. I've alternately hated it and liked it and had been determined to finish it as a birthday present to myself so that I could put it behind me and write something a bit lighter. Well, since my birthday was almost two weeks ago now… that obviously didn't happen.
I left out the specifics of the attack/assault because they weren't really important to the story. I was hoping to focus on the reactions of the "fang gang" to such a predicament rather than on the event itself. I am less than pleased with my ability to do that and feel that I focused on Cordelia and Angel too much and left out the others, especially Fred who would experience different emotions than our guys. It also seems to draw to a close prematurely much against my best efforts to the contrary. Oh well, at least I tried I suppose. I also didn't feel it was necessary to say whether Cordelia was just mugged or if she was raped or anything in between those two polarities. You, the reader, can decide for yourself what she suffered through.
Thank you all for the reviews. I never would have even tried to get the second chapter up without your kind words of encouragement.
Now in reference to this chapter: I'm expecting a bit of backlash from my determination that Cordelia would not seek therapy. I personally have no problems with therapy of any kind, there are many good therapists and groups out there, however, counseling isn't everyone's cup of tea and I have some insider information, so to speak, about how women who have personalities similar to Cordelia's deal with personal traumas. For some people, just admitting that they were victimized is far worse than whatever it was they survived. It's not easy, but healing is possible for these people without any more help than that of their families and friends.
If you've read this far, I'm impressed… either you're very dedicated or you're exceptionally bored. Thank you for reading the story and I hope you'll take a moment to tell me your thoughts, even if you hated it—I don't mind criticism at all, flames though are a whole other kettle of fish…