Author: Eledhwen
Rating: U / G
Spoilers: Up to and including 'Redefinition', AtS season 2
Pairing: Cordelia/Angel
Summary: part of the 'Redefined' series of vignettes. Cordelia comes home alone at the beginning of 'Redefinition'.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be mine, Joss Whedon and friends'.
REDEFINED – CORDELIA
She dumped the box of files down and closed the door, leaning against it heavily.
"Hey, Dennis."
The stereo clicked on, wafting something light and ballady through the room. Cordelia smiled, wanly. "Thanks." She pulled herself upright and locked the door, and then went round and closed the curtains so she was snug and secure in the lit apartment. Then she picked up the box and took it over to the coffee table to unpack.
Pens, pencils, paper … coloured post-it notes in pink and orange. Hair bobbles and ribbons, an earring, old receipts from coffee bars. Two books on demons that should have gone with Wesley; Cordelia put them aside. A piece of paper, folded in two. She unfolded it and stared, her eyes blinking as she examined the carefully drawn lines of her own face, and the single letter in the corner, signing it.
She crumpled the page and threw it away from her, where it was lifted up and deposited in the bin.
Cordelia closed her eyes and lay back on the sofa, tears trickling from under the lids as she remembered the pure joy she had felt on turning around at a party and seeing a familiar face. How nice it had been when he had returned her smile. How good it had been to see him come to save her. How much she had come to rely on his presence. Dark, silent, often unnerving, but there. Of all people, the one non-person she knew was always there for her. He killed for her. He held her when the visions hit. He laughed at her jokes and was worried when she was ill, or tired, or injured.
He had fired her.
A shiver ran through her as she remembered the cold, expressionless voice as he had described the scene he had come from. Empty eyes that brought back memories she thought she had repressed. Her Angel, her saviour, her best friend, was a killer. He had cared. He cared no longer.
Cordelia curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion to herself, and let the tears come. A box of tissues floated to her side and hovered until she had taken a wad out, and then was replaced silently on the coffee table. The music changed, soothing and calm, and a wrap landed on top of her. For a moment, she fancied she felt a breath of cool air by her cheek and a whispered word of comfort, but the moment passed.
Rating: U / G
Spoilers: Up to and including 'Redefinition', AtS season 2
Pairing: Cordelia/Angel
Summary: part of the 'Redefined' series of vignettes. Cordelia comes home alone at the beginning of 'Redefinition'.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be mine, Joss Whedon and friends'.
REDEFINED – CORDELIA
She dumped the box of files down and closed the door, leaning against it heavily.
"Hey, Dennis."
The stereo clicked on, wafting something light and ballady through the room. Cordelia smiled, wanly. "Thanks." She pulled herself upright and locked the door, and then went round and closed the curtains so she was snug and secure in the lit apartment. Then she picked up the box and took it over to the coffee table to unpack.
Pens, pencils, paper … coloured post-it notes in pink and orange. Hair bobbles and ribbons, an earring, old receipts from coffee bars. Two books on demons that should have gone with Wesley; Cordelia put them aside. A piece of paper, folded in two. She unfolded it and stared, her eyes blinking as she examined the carefully drawn lines of her own face, and the single letter in the corner, signing it.
She crumpled the page and threw it away from her, where it was lifted up and deposited in the bin.
Cordelia closed her eyes and lay back on the sofa, tears trickling from under the lids as she remembered the pure joy she had felt on turning around at a party and seeing a familiar face. How nice it had been when he had returned her smile. How good it had been to see him come to save her. How much she had come to rely on his presence. Dark, silent, often unnerving, but there. Of all people, the one non-person she knew was always there for her. He killed for her. He held her when the visions hit. He laughed at her jokes and was worried when she was ill, or tired, or injured.
He had fired her.
A shiver ran through her as she remembered the cold, expressionless voice as he had described the scene he had come from. Empty eyes that brought back memories she thought she had repressed. Her Angel, her saviour, her best friend, was a killer. He had cared. He cared no longer.
Cordelia curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion to herself, and let the tears come. A box of tissues floated to her side and hovered until she had taken a wad out, and then was replaced silently on the coffee table. The music changed, soothing and calm, and a wrap landed on top of her. For a moment, she fancied she felt a breath of cool air by her cheek and a whispered word of comfort, but the moment passed.