Part 6
Thursday, 8:37 p.m.
Mrs. Chase spoke, jarring Angel and Cordelia out of their post make-out haze.
“Well, Angel, it’s obvious you know how to pleasure a woman.” She smiled knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows for effect.
Cordelia was horrified. “Mother!” she whispered. She’d never been so humiliated.
“That’s important, Cordelia. I had to teach your father way too much,” she said, her words laced with innuendo. “It’s so much better when he knows beforehand how to properly use his—”
“MOTHER, please!” Cordelia shouted, her eyes sliding shut in mortification. “That was information I would have been happy to live without. It’s unhealthy for children to imagine their parents having . . . ewww! I can’t even say it,” she scrunched her face up and shuddered.
Mrs. Chase just laughed, amused by her daughter’s flustered demeanor. “I just have one question for you, Cordelia, then I’ll change the subject. Is he as good as he looks?”
Cordelia turned a shade of red that just matched her cherry-colored blouse. “Mother, I am not going to answer that!!” she hissed.
“That good, huh?” Mrs. Chase answered, looking at Angel with new eyes, perusing his features and coming to rest on the fingers that gripped Cordelia’s waist. “Then I guess it is true what they say about men with big hands,” she said, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.
“Mrs. Chase, you’ll make me blush,” Angel said, smiling devilishly.
Cordelia nearly choked on her spit. “Mother, can we PLEASE change the subject?” she begged.
Mrs. Chase shook herself out of fantasyland and took pity on her daughter. She schooled her features and returned to a respectable topic.
“I am satisfied that you’ll be able to provide financially for my daughter,” she said to Angel, totally back to business. “But what are your plans for the future? Do you intend to stay in L.A.? Do you want children?”
Her last question was accompanied by a scrutinizing stare that dared him to say “no”.
“I would live anywhere, as long as Cordelia was with me. As for children, well. . .” Angel paused, suddenly wanting to be honest for some reason. “Truthfully, Mrs. Chase, I may not be able to father children. It’s a medical condition, one that occurred some time ago.”
That’s the understatement of the year, Cordelia thought.
His grin was gone and Mrs. Chase was watching him intensely. He continued, “But I have no doubt that Cordelia would make an excellent mother and I would love to adopt children.”
Unbidden, images of Angel holding a child swarmed Cordelia’s mind. A little girl with dark hair and curls, cuddled up on her daddy’s strong chest. . .Oh, god. Shake it off, Chase. Get it together!
“I’m sorry to hear about your condition, Angel, but adoption sounds like a wonderful idea. There are so many children who need loving, stable homes,” Mrs. Chase agreed.
Just then, the nosy nurse swept in with Mrs. Chase’s dinner: beef stroganoff, wilted string beans, and the ever present hospital staple, green Jell-o.
“Now, eat up, Mrs. Chase,” the nurse encouraged. “You wouldn’t want to miss the wedding, now, would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she answered softly, looking tenderly at Cordelia.
“We should be going,” Angel said, nudging Cordelia off his lap and standing up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Chase.” He took her hand and kissed it again.
“The pleasure was all mine, young man,” Mrs. Cordelia said. “Be sure to take good care of my little girl.”
Angel smiled and nodded his assent, then stepped out into the hallway to give Cordy some time with her mother.
Cordelia stepped to her mother’s bedside. “Bye, Mom. I’ll be back to see you later.”
As she moved away, Mrs. Chase grasped her arm and pulled her back. “Honey, I’m so happy for you. This is exactly what I was trying to tell you yesterday. You have a keeper in that one, Cordelia. Don’t ever do anything to mess that up.”
Cordelia squeezed her mother’s hand in reassurance. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll be fine. Just concentrate on getting better.”
They exchanged goodbyes and Cordelia left the room. As soon as she and Angel were out of earshot, she lit into him.
“Just what the hell do you think you were doing in there, huh?” She fumed. “Weren’t you laying it on a little thick?”
“I was just doing as you asked, Cordelia,” Angel answered, his face as innocent as his namesake.
“’Mrs. Chase, you’ll make me blush!’” she mimicked in a sing-songy voice, scrunching her nose up at him. “Arghhhh! That is not what I had in mind. You were such a . . . such a . . . perv!” Cordelia sputtered, storming ahead of him down the hallway. Not only had she practically been seduced by her boss, then completely humiliated by her mother, she also couldn’t think of a better insult than “perv” to vent her frustration.
Some of Angel’s fun that had disappeared after the kiss returned as he watched Cordelia stomp down the hallway, heels clicking furiously on the tile floor.
He had to hand it to her: she’d held her own in there. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, his wicked smile returning.
Now it was time to turn up the heat.
Part 7
Friday, 4:32 a.m.
Angel’s cool knuckles kneaded the space between Cordelia’s shoulder blades, soothing her sore muscles. She sighed; it felt heavenly. She lay on her stomach, topless, her head pillowed on her crossed elbows, her nose brushing the mattress beneath her. Her pajama pants remained on, slung low on her hips, her tattoo fully exposed. Angel straddled her, his thighs on either side of hers. He moved gently, rhythmically against her as he worked his hands over her body, melting away the tension.
Suddenly, his hands were gone and Cordelia whined her protest. Before the sound even left her mouth, another sensation replaced the previous: his cool lips whispering against her soft skin. She sighed, contented once again, and relaxed, enjoying the new touch. Soon, his tongue sought the taste of her as well. He moved from her shoulders, traveling down the slope of her lower back and resting briefly in the valley, tickling her with butterfly kisses. After a brief respite there, he began to move again, heading further south, to worship the sun that adorned her backside. As his tongue traced its outline, the cool wetness scorched her, making her whimper. As his tongue bathed her, his hands grasped her hips, then trailed up her torso to stroke the sides of her breasts that were pressed against the mattress.
It wasn’t enough.
Cordy rolled over slowly and rested on her back, offering herself to him. Angel smiled at her briefly. The soft expression disappeared when Cordelia reached up to clasp the sides of his face, drawing him down to her chest. His mouth opened, seeking her—
RING RING RING
“Noooo,” Cordelia groaned sleepily, burying her face in the pillow.
RING RING RING
“Go ‘way!!” she whined impatiently.
As if on command, the irritating noise stopped mid-ring. Satisfied, Cordelia snuggled further into her pillow, still in the murky place between sleeping and waking where she could grasp the remnants of her dream and continue it. It had been fantastic, the best dream she’d had in months, maybe even ever, and she didn’t want to lose it.
She didn’t actually think that, though, only felt it. Thinking would have ruined everything.
Thinking was evil.
KNOCK KNOCK
The sound was light, but it still penetrated deep enough to annoy her. That’s it! Cordelia mumbled grumpily. Whoever is responsible for this is going to pay. Dearly.
“Cordelia?” Angel’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door.
“Go away, Angel, I’m sleeping!” Cordelia yelled, her voice nasty. Then she froze as everything came flooding back: her mother’s sickness, her “engagement” to Angel, her unexplained attraction to him.
Oh, god! Angel! Images of her dream swarmed her head and her face heated.
“Cordelia,” Angel said more insistently. “Can you open the door, please? The hospital called.”
At his words, panic set in and she vaulted from the bed, jerking the door open.
“What happened?” she demanded, her worry apparent.
Angel’s face was sad, concerned for her well-being. “The nurse said your mother has taken a turn for the worse and we should come immediately.”
Cordelia’s rocky trail of emotions came to a screeching halt at the mountain of shame and guilt. Her mother was dying, and she was thinking about sex. Sex with Angel. She looked at him warily, as if she expected him to jump her bones and distract her again.
She shoved the disturbing thoughts out of her mind and took action. Her mother needed her. Nothing else mattered; her own problems were pointless.
“Let’s go,” she said grimly, heading for the front door.
Angel grasped her arm and smiled wryly. “You might want to change first.”
Frowning, Cordelia glanced down at her favorite tattered flannel sleeping pants and the mismatched, frayed tank top.
“Oh, okay,” she said simply and reversed her course.
Angel’s eyes followed her as she retreated back into her bedroom. She looked delectable, even in those old clothes. They fit her body perfectly; the thin, soft cotton hugging her in all the right places, barely concealing her secrets from him. But they weren’t exactly fit for public viewing. Nobody should have the right to see her looking that sexy, except him.
Angel started at his own thoughts, stunned at their intensity. How did this make any kind of sense? 24 hours ago, he couldn’t wait to start a well-developed plan of friendly revenge, no lustful ideas whatsoever. Now, he couldn’t look at her without needing to adjust his fly, not to mention having to squash the powerful urge to lock the two of them in a bedroom for a week.
He wasn’t so sure that Cordelia’s thoughts mirrored his own. In fact, if he hadn’t felt the eager response when he kissed her at the hospital last night, he would’ve thought that she never wanted to speak to him again. Of course, he thought smugly, he had been trying to torture her. And it had worked, too. He’d had her so flustered that she retaliated with her only remaining weapon: anger. The only hitch in his plan was that her fury was even sexier than her irritation. That was the problem with bringing torture into this: Angelus liked it way too much, and it was harder for Angel to control the demon within. He’d started to think about all the ways he could put that heat to good use.
Cordelia’s bedroom door opened once again and Angel shook off his less than pure thoughts. He could sort this out later; Cordelia needed to be with her mother.
“Let’s go,” Cordelia said again, not looking at him as she headed for the door. Opening it, she stopped as she saw the beginnings of pink light at the eastern horizon.
“Angel, it’s almost dawn,” she said, worriedly.
“We’ll take your car,” Angel said. “The hospital’s not that far and there’s sewer access back to here if we don’t stay until dark.”
“Okay,” Cordelia said distractedly. Angel’s “take charge” attitude had allowed her to return to worrying solely about her mother. As they reached her car, she grabbed his arm and turned him to face her.
“How bad is it, Angel? What exactly did they say?”
“They wouldn’t tell me very much, Cordelia,” Angel said apologetically. “But I’ll be honest; they sounded very concerned.”
“I don’t want to lose her, Angel. I just got her back,” Cordelia said, her eyes watering. She looked down at the keys in her hand, then shoved them at Angel. “I think you’d better drive.”
Part 8
Friday, 2:32 p.m.
Angel was glad that hospitals had so many darkened hallways. Cordelia’s mother had a south facing room, one that had no direct sunlight at any time of day, and for that he was also grateful. He just may have risked combustion just so he didn’t have to leave his distraught seer.
Mrs. Chase had been unconscious since they arrived early that morning. The doctors were grim in their prognosis: the disease had attacked more viciously during the night, causing most of Mrs. Chase’s body to shut down. Her lack of consciousness meant that she didn’t have enough energy to stay awake; her body was trying to fight the invader. The longer she remained unconscious, the less likely it was that she would wake up. It meant that her body was losing the battle.
Cordelia had remained at her mother’s side since they’d entered the room, speaking softly to her and stroking her hand. Angel had tried to get her to leave for a few minutes, if only to get something to eat, but Cordelia refused to move. He’d given up, but he was determined to see that she wasn’t alone.
The guilt Cordelia had felt that morning had only intensified as she’d sat by her mother, watching her die. She knew deep down that the feeling was irrational, but she couldn’t help it. Her mother had needed her, and Cordelia was at home, sleeping, her dreams making her body quiver. She’d let her anger and frustration cloud her judgment. She could’ve slept here at the hospital, but no, she’d had to go home and give Angel her best silent treatment. Fat lot of good that did if her dreams were going to betray her and ruin her perfectly justifiable anger.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Cordy said softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of her mother’s hand.
“Sorry for what, Cordy?”
Cordelia’s eyes shot up into the heavy-lidded eyes of her mother.
“Mom?” She asked, leaning closer, tears threatening to fall. “How do you feel? I’ve been so worried.”
“Oh, I’ve felt better,” her mother understated, a tired smile on her face. Her eyes left her daughter, traveling the room slowly and coming to rest on Angel, who was leaning against the wall across from the foot of her bed, arms crossed, watching Cordelia worriedly.
“Angel,” Mrs. Chase greeted. “Thank you for being here with Cordelia.”
“She needed me,” Angel said simply, his eyes meeting hers.
Mrs. Chase nodded in agreement. “She certainly does need you.” She paused. “Angel, would you give me a moment alone with my daughter?”
Angel pushed away from the wall. “Of course,” he said. Turning to Cordelia, he said, “I’ll be out in the hall if you need me.”
Cordelia nodded briefly, then turned her attention to her mother. “You’re going to get better, Mom. You just have to rest and relax. Let your body heal.”
“I don’t think so, Cordelia,” her mother contradicted. “I think I’m dying.”
“You’re not.” Cordelia stated adamantly. “I won’t let you. I’ve just gotten you back; I won’t let you leave me again.”
Mrs. Chase looked puzzled. “What do you mean, you’ve ‘just gotten me back?’ Your father and I had to move away from Sunnydale, that’s true. But you moved as well. That doesn’t mean I stopped being your mother.”
“That’s not what I meant, Mom. But we don’t need to talk about it right now. You’re not going to die. You’re going to get better and I’m going to help you.”
Too tired to continue the cryptic conversation, Mrs. Chase acquiesced. “Fine, Cordelia. But we will talk about this later.”
It suddenly struck her that there might not be a “later”. This could very well be the last conversation she ever had with her daughter.
Cordelia began talking cheerily, trying to lift her mother’s spirits. “It will be so great to have you here, Mom. When you get out of the hospital, you can come stay with me and we can spend so much time together. They have some of the most fabulous stores in L.A., Mom. . .”
Mrs. Chase was immune to her daughter’s incessant chatter. Her morbid thoughts continued amidst the babbling, each one increasing the intensity. She would miss so much. She’d never see her husband again; he wasn’t able to return to the country without legal ramifications. Her heart ached with missing him. She’d never see her friends again, not that they were ever much to talk about. She looked up at Cordelia as her daughter adjusted the sheets and blankets, gesturing rapidly as she talked. She would miss the most important times in her daughter’s life. She had already missed so much, now she would never see her grandchildren, never see her daughter’s wedding.
Her daughter’s wedding.
A thought struck her, powerful in its brilliance. She smiled at the first bright thought in her pain-filled day.
“Cordelia,” she interrupted her daughter’s non-stop, one-sided conversation. “Sit down, please. You’re making me nervous.”
Instantly guilty, Cordelia complied. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was just trying to make you feel better.”
Mrs. Chase smiled reassuringly. “I know, sweetie. And thank you. But I want to talk about something.” She patted the side of the mattress. “Come sit with me.”
Cordelia climbed up on the bed with her mother, perched on the edge of the mattress.
“I know you mean well, honey, but the truth is, I’m not doing very well.” Cordelia rushed to protest, but her mother stopped her with a look. “I can feel myself getting weaker, and I know this is it. It is the end for me, but it is just the beginning for you.”
She paused for a moment, framing her words carefully. “Cordelia, you have a wonderful life ahead of you. You have a good job, caring friends, and a fiancée who loves you dearly. You’re content where you are in life, but you have so much more in front of you. The day you get married will be the beginning of the time in your life that you’ll always cherish. When you’re my age, you’ll look back on that day as the embodiment of happiness, the one time when you were absolutely sure what life was about and what you wanted from it.”
Cordelia soaked in her mother’s words, her mind tugging her in two different directions. On one hand, she felt even guiltier about masquerading as Angel’s fiancée. The happiness that her mother believed real was so far from Cordelia’s grasp as to be nearly impossible. The other hand, though, recalled the feel of Angel’s lips on hers yesterday and recognized the potential there.
Mrs. Chase continued and Cordelia forced herself to concentrate. “I don’t want to miss that day, Cordelia,” she said emphatically.
“What?” Cordelia said, having lost the thread of the conversation. She was so confused.
“I want to see you get married,” Mrs. Chase explained, her eyes imploring Cordelia to acquiesce.
“See me get married?” Cordelia said, still confused. Then, understanding dawned. “Mom, you’re going to get well. You will see me get married, I promise.” Well, you’ll see the effects of a major fake break-up, but only when you’re stronger. Cordelia added silently.
“Honey, we’ve been over this. I want to see you get married before I die. It’s going to have to be soon. Here, in fact.” At Cordelia’s shocked expression, she continued. “Please, Cordelia?”
“Mom, I don’t know. There’s no time to plan, and I—”
“You would deny your mother her dying wish?” Mrs. Chase knew that was a low thing to say, but she was desperate. She was determined to have this. Cordelia actually wanted it, too; she just didn’t know it yet.
Cordelia felt trapped. She glanced toward the door, knowing Angel could hear their conversation from the hallway. If she relented, she’d have to go through a ceremony declaring her eternal love for him. If she refused, she’d disappoint her terminally ill mother, maybe send her to her death.
What a choice.
Sighing, Cordelia knew that her fate had been sealed the moment she’d announced her “engagement.” She’d started this roller coaster; now she’d have to ride it out. “I would like nothing better than to be married in your presence, Mom, even here at the hospital. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
Mrs. Chase beamed, suddenly feeling better than she had in months. “Oh, Cordelia, you’re such a wonderful daughter. I love you!” she reached to hug her, and Cordelia squeezed her back.
Outside, Angel stood frozen, trying to digest what he’d just heard. How in the world were they going to fake this one?
And how the hell was he going to say wedding vows to Cordelia and not mean them?