Chapter 6
Cordelia stalked into the lobby of the Hyperion, sweaty, grimy, and really pissed. Gunn looked up, ready to tease her about being so late, but quickly looked down when he saw the expression on her face as she trudged to the small restroom in the corner.
He’d learned a long, painful time ago a valuable lesson. If Cordy was in a mood, don’t make eye contact and draw her fire.
Wesley poked his head out of his office. “Was that Cordelia?”
“Yeah.” Gunn leaned forward. “She’s…..cranky” he whispered.
Wesley made a face and yanked his head back into the office, sliding the door shut. Gunn slumped back into the chair and carefully made notations into a file. After a while, the door opened and Cordelia walked out.
She walked with an odd gait till Gunn realized she had on one shoe. She walked over to where he sat and leaned on the desk.
“Sorry I’m late. Crappy, crappy, no good morning. Had a flat on the way here.”
Gunn sat up, startled. “You had a flat? Why didn’t you call?”
“Because I’m not helpless. I can handle these things. Little women don’t need to call the menfolk all the time. I can certainly take care of a tire.”
“You changed a tire?”
“No, dumbass. I called Triple AAA. Like I’d really change a tire. Do I look like Mr. Goodwrench? Sheese.” Cordy looked down. “And the heel broke on my favorite shoe.” She held up one heel-less shoe, sadly regarding it. “This day sucks.”
Gunn grinned, patting her on the knee. “C’mon, Barbie. We’re back in the game here, it’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood. Little thing like a flat tire and a flat shoe ain’t gonna get your day.”
They heard a small shuffle and looked up to see Angel coming down the stairs with an unsure expression on his face.
Cordelia sighed. “No, that’s what he’s here for.” She tossed her shoe in the trash and pulled off the other one, tossing it in, too. Rising, she walked to her desk and sat down, reaching for a stack of files she had been working on replacing last night when they all finally called a halt to moving day.
Tired, sweaty, dirty, and flat out weary, Cordelia had fallen asleep at her desk in the middle of sorting files when Wesley had shaken her gently awake and suggested that she simply go upstairs and go to sleep.
Like a bucket of cold water, that had awakened her in a panic, and she had blustered her way out the front door, all without ever looking at Angel. And she knew he was watching her quietly. He had been all day. Just like he was now, as he crossed the lobby and sat at the smaller desk she had smirkingly pointed him to yesterday morning.
It was small, dingy, and grey, and his knees didn’t quite fit under the leg space. Cordelia suspected it was a student desk, and had seized on the opportunity to present it to Angel complete with an orange juice can of pencils and a memo pad.
He had watched her levelly and she had turned her back and walked back to her desk, feeling his gaze on her back. She had managed to say not one word to him from then on, and planned on doing the same today.
Angel watched her from his small, tiny desk. As he understood them, his duties consisted of answering the phone, supplying his vampire strength when needed, and being an ongoing target of Cordelia’s disdain.
The first two were easy; the third was getting on his last nerve. He had taken insults from the best and the worst; he’d put up with Spike’s snarks, Xander Harris’ hatred, Rupert Gile’s complete distrust and anger, and those three men paled in comparison to Ms. Cordelia Chase.
Slap a breastplate on her and send her back in time and she would have frightened the Amazon Warriors.
Funny thing was, all that time he’d been wishing she’d just shut up when her mouth would flap; all that time she complained or whined or spit out whatever thought was churning in her head….that was so much better than this tense, angry silence. He grinned at the irony. He had wanted Cordy to just shut up when nine times out of ten, she said the very thing that needed to be said.
The thing no one else would say. Her voice sometimes led them down the right path. He knew that was true; just like he knew her voice had saved him.
He looked up as Wesley came out of his office and handed him a file. “I see you moved several pieces of weaponry downstairs during….well….recently. Would it be possible to bring them back up so we can adjust our inventory?”
“Sure.” He rose, glad to have anything to do that would remove him from Cordy’s deliberate silence. He walked to the basement and went down the steps, pausing to take in the damp must. Flicking on a light, he looked around at what had become his workout room.
It was dark and silent and oppressive and for the last few months, he had hid here from life. Had hid here, uncaring, except for when he frantically tooled around town playing Darla’s games.
Fuck. He leaned his head against the punching bag. Cordy could never know about Darla and the little interlude up in his bedroom. She would never forgive that. Angel didn’t know that he could forgive himself for it, and had trouble believing it had ever happened; it was so surreal.
He had had, for the first time in months, light all around him. He had gotten Cordy right there, right in his bed, he was going to take her to him…all the way….no matter what. He had needed her to surround and fill him so somehow, he could feel again. He closed his eyes, remembering her voice, desperate and begging…..
“Angel….” Her eyes raised to his. He stared back, impassively. His body loomed over her prone form, both bodies taut and still. “Angel…..you won’t get warm. I’ll just get cold. Like you. I can’t…….not this way. I’ll be empty. Like you. Is that what you want?” A bleak shadow crept into his eyes. “You’re in a place….I can’t find you. I can’t reach you. You’re taking me there, too. God, Angel, please don’t.”
He shivered, even now. At that moment, all he had wanted was to take her, with or without her permission. And then she spoke. And the thought of Cordelia Chase feeling the dark emptiness that he felt shut him down. She had somehow touched him, had reached him, although she didn’t know it. He had begged her to save him, and she had.
He had sat there on the edge of the bed for the longest time, and had finally risen, almost sleepwalking. He had dressed, and he had busted in on Wolfram and Hart’s little ceremony of the newly unemployed and discovered that the gold ring was actually a cheap crackerjack prize.
So he had trudged home. And there was Darla. Perfect end to a perfect day. All his rage, all his hatred, all his bleak emptiness had boiled over at that moment and he had exploded, using her body so desperately no human could have withstood it.
And Cordelia’s voice had reached him. “I can’t find you. I can’t reach you.” And she did. All his misery seemed to melt out of him, and the demon struggling to break free had screamed in anguish, because his soul had triumphed, and his humanity soared. Every gram of pain had seemed to leave with Darla, and his life, or lack thereof, was back on track.
He puffed a little sigh as he gathered up an armful of weapons and began walking up the stairs. Back up to Cordy and the Great Wall of Silence. He was glad to be back, and ready to fall on his knees in gratitude that his family was back, but shit. Attonement sucked.
Cordy watched as Wesley handed Angel the weapon list and had watched Angel go to the basement. After hearing the door close, she hopped up and grabbed at the bag she had under her desk and quietly went up the stairs to his room.
She pushed open the door to his suite and walked into the bedroom, stopping at the sight of the broken French door and the glass swept into a small pile against the wall. She looked at the door, puzzled, then shrugged and opened the bag and took out the shirt she had taken from Angel, laundered and folded. She walked to the closet and was hanging it up when the hair stood up on the nape of her neck.
Turning to the door, she saw Angel, standing in the doorway, watching her.
She froze a moment. His gaze was level on hers. “Can I help you with something?”
“Um…no, no…just returning your shirt.”
“Could have given it to me downstairs.”
“Well, first of all, I didn’t want Wesley or Gunn wondering why I had a shirt of yours….” She broke off, biting her lip.
He finished for her. “and second of all…this way you could miss talking to me.”
“Yeah, well, that one didn’t pan out quite the way I planned.” They both stood there a moment, awkwardly. Cordelia looked at the broken door. “That door finally get on your nerves one too many times and you had to take it out?”
Angel’s face remained impassive. “I tripped.”
Cordelia looked at him, thinking “God what a dork.” Angel’s lips twisted slightly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. She waved her hand a bit towards the closet.
“Well, anyhoo, there’s your shirt.” He stepped aside as she walked to the door and out, her footsteps muffled as she walked down the hallway. He listened till she was downstairs at her desk again.
Crossing to his dresser, he opened a drawer and dug through until he found and pulled out a scrap of cloth. He sat on his bed and lifted it to his face, taking in Cordelia’s faint spice. He lowered the remains of her tattered top and smiled slightly. He was back. He was all about the mission. Plus he had a new personal mission of his own to complete.
She had reached him. Now he was going to reach her.