Part 8
“So, do you think she’s for real? Lilah?”
“What? Oh. I’m still wondering if you’re for real. Last I heard you had shaken the evil legal world off along with your evil hand and were heading for parts unknown clad in shit-kickin boots and riding in a pick up trunk.” Lilah studied male figure leaning against her door.
“But, here you are back in our midst without the shit kicking foot wear and surprisingly two hands. Lindsey, why are you back?”
“Does it matter, I’m back.” The other lawyer studied his borrowed fingernails.
“Yes, Lindsey, it does matter. You’ve a history of moral ambiguity and dilemmas. You may be back, but I don’t know why the Senior Partners let you come back, hell, I don’t know what they just didn’t kill you.”
“They recognize my talents.”
“It’s not your talents that worry me.” Lilah commented unfazed by Lindsey’s charming smirk. “It’s your inability to maintain an commitment to the agenda. I don’t trust you. Hear me, Lindsey, I see a hint of weakness or betrayal, I will have you killed.”
“Okie Dokie.”
Lilah narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been gone awhile, Lindsey, my power base has grown without you nipping at my heels. You start it up again, I’ll stomp you.”
“I’m sufficiently warned and impressed.” Lindsey’s tone showed no signs of being either. “Now, can we get to the business at hand?” Lindsey waved his fingers. “Do you believe her?”
Lilah rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, deciding that despite Lindsey’s nonchalance the other lawyer understood her warnings. “Intrigued, but not ready to jump on her bandwagon just yet. I’ll wait until I get the word from the research department.”
“Assuming for the moment that what she said is true can we do what she wants?”
Lilah peered over her tapping fingertips. “Yes.”
“Really?” Lindsey raised his brows. “I am impressed.”
“I told you- you’ve been gone for awhile. We can manipulate Angel’s seer if we need to, in theory.”
“Why haven’t you done anything before? Blocking Angel’s link has always been a goal.”
“Because it’s a one shot deal. If it works great, if not or Angel discovers our manipulations- we would be screwed. It needs to be saved for the best opportunity and gain.”
“Possibly this could be it.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear her stress the benefits to Wolfram & Hart.”
***
“You buzzed.” Lindsey leaned against the doorway.
Lilah tossed a file down. “The research department found nothing.”
“So, she was a whack case.”
“No.” Lilah swung out of her chair to pace. “Linwood made a visit with a message from the Senior Partners. Immortals are real. Traditionally and historically, they haven’t been any concern of ours. They have their own ‘game’. No Immortal before has ever approached us or the other side not before now. Which makes the Senior Partners interested. Our orders are to help her.” Lilah tossed the memo towards Lindsey.
“And then what?” The other lawyer fingered the piece of paper.
“Find out what she’s really after and find a way to use it to our advantage.”
“You’ve a plan.” Lindsey settled into the well-cushioned chair.
“Yes.”
Part 9
Cordelia tossed and turned for several long minutes and then jumped to the floor, her rambled thoughts transformed into pacing. God. She needed to sleep. Cordelia glared at the digital numbers of the clock that obnoxiously glowed and clicked away another minute without rest.
Settle down. Cordelia sat on the end of the bed. Her deep breathing exercises choked as she remembered where she was.
How could she forget? She chose the damn room. Angel’s room. What had been her reason and logic again? Oh. Right. It had been the loud argument that had erupted when Duncan suggested that she leave LA and go to his home in Paris. Cordelia had to admit she missed the first of Wesley and Gunn’s outburst at the idea. She had been too busy thinking about the last time she had been in Paris- way too long ago.
Fred’s wail that Angel wouldn’t like it if Cordy were in a whole other country had jerked her out of her memories of the Eiffel Tower, romance and sparkling lights and great clothes. Okay, maybe her memories were some what tainted by movies of the famous city rather than her childhood trips with her parents. But still Cordelia had managed to keep some good memories about the city and her parents during those trips.
Luckily, Cordelia had been able to squelch the male bolstering of Wesley and Gun, the calm justification of Duncan, the complaining snorts from Methos and the whines of Fred with a firm loud ‘NO WAY’- rare happy childhood memories aside- Cordelia hadn’t been about to leave.
So, here she was in Angel’s room. Wesley and Gunn hadn’t been about to let her stay alone at her apartment with Duncan and it seemed also Methos- bitching aside the older Immortal wasn’t leaving Duncan. And Duncan had stated firmly he wasn’t leaving until he thought Cordelia was sufficiently trained. Fred had started sniffling again when she had thought that everyone was moving to Cordy’s. Again, Cordelia had been able to divert a major drama scene with the suggestion that everyone stay at the hotel. The only one completely happy with that proposition had been Fred.
Cordelia groaned and looked around Angel’s room. Over 80 rooms, some actually furnished, and she had to choose this one. She had thought at the time that it was a good idea. She couldn’t have Dennis and, well, Angel wasn’t around.
God. She tugged at the shirt she was wearing and a sorry chuckle settled in her throat. Angel would be so mad if he knew she was scouring through his closet for sleepwear. The shirt was silk. Fashion whore. The vampire would never admit it, but he was. Cordelia rubbed the shirttail to her cheek. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand and the material. Cordelia let out a deep breath.
Had that been her logic, really? Soon after she had chosen Angel’s room the allure of the most furnished room wore thin and well, the little bit of Angel’s presence drove her crazy. Cordelia had been ready to move to another room, but then the unknown blonde appeared and there was no way Cordelia would let THAT GABBY HO claim what was Angel’s, no matter how much Gabriel whined and cutely begged.
Hell, Cordelia got there first, first takers are the keepers, na-na-a-boo-boo and other similar mature reasoning said so. Cordelia was beginning to believe that there was a blonde plot to screw up her life.
Cordelia took another deep breath, trying to capture Wesley’s words of comfort and good cheer. GOOD CHEER, her ass. Cordelia’s practical mind screamed a mad yell telling her to stop the spasms that her flighty-ass mind part- the one that the practical part had jack hammered to a whimper and pushed into a hidden dark corner- was squealing about.
Everything seemed to hit at once yet it also seemed to drag on and on, the last three months without Angel seemed to go on forever. Cordelia began to regret ordering Wesley not to try to get in touch with the vampire. Hindsight. Wow. Something that should be known before any decision was made.
Would it have made a difference? Really? Cordelia didn’t know, no matter what conflicting thoughts and justifications that her flightily- ass mind begged her to listen too.
Cordelia pushed herself up from the bed and went into the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, she tried to order her life into a manageable semblance, ignoring all straying interruptions from her flightily mind-part. Practical would always rule.
Angel left. Temporarily, but in that temporary way that meant that those that were waiting for his return had no idea when that meant. Did it mean a few days, a few weeks, a few months…oh, wait, they were reaching the ‘few’ months without a word, so did that meant that soon it could be ‘several’ months or oh wow a few years.
When was she supposed to decide that the waiting was over? Cordelia had been willing to wait for…well…for her life. But that was before her life took a dramatic spin and 360-degree turn and ‘THAT WOMAN’ showed up.
Cordelia slumped on the bed. Who was she? Cordelia Chase. She got that part, but what was she? An Immortal? She guessed that was true, the whole dying and living thing proved that. But what did that mean? What about who she was? Did she have a purpose? Living to chop head wasn’t a purpose. That was just sick and ridiculous.
So what was her purpose? A seer? Nope. That was proven as soon as ‘THAT WOMAN’ swiveled her tight hips into the hotel. ‘Hi! Where’s my champion, Angel-oh, where is he? He’s so good. Oh, who are you? Oh, you must be the make-do Seer. You stole my destiny. You died. Doyle was supposed to give the visions to me. He saved me and my family from the Scourge, but YOU,” the blonde pointed at Cordelia, “interfered.”
Cordelia groaned at the remembrance of the blonde’s words, her own choked gasp in surprise and then anger, as she wanted to grab the pretty blonde by the throat.
Cordelia flopped against the pillows letting the recent memories flow-the ones that didn’t make her mad or unhappy.
She had actually had fun with Duncan’s training. Weird start that it was. She had thought when she agreed to let Duncan train her that they would head straight to the basement and pick up swords, she had one and he definitely did. The way he kept it hidden in his expensive coat had been pretty nifty.
And it had been funny to see Wesley and Gunn’s faces when both Duncan and Methos whooshed out their respective swords. Cordelia swore she saw Gunn trying to do the same with his axe and failing miserably. Though, Cordelia shouldn’t laugh, she had been pretty amazed too. Honestly, she was still a bit, even though she knew how to do it herself now.
But no, no training then, just lessons on how to look good drawing a sword. Okay, actually that wasn’t a lesson but Duncan did look way hot when he did it, and so did Methos when he decided to take a part of the show and tell. That had been great. But that hadn’t explained the lack of active training bit.
Duncan had watched her a couple of times swinging the small sword she had taken from Angel’s massive collection of lethal sharp things. Duncan shook his head at her weapon and took it away from her. Then he told her to make a fist and hit him. She didn’t even get close as he blocked her. Duncan hadn’t said anything just stood back on his heels and studied her. Then he disappeared up the basement stairs. Cordelia had felt more than a little annoyed.
She hadn’t been that bad. She had been copying what she saw Angel do in the past. Cordelia knew she was quick at picking up moves. She had always been able to get the cheer routines on the first try when she was a cheerleader, even the complex ones. Cordelia had stridden up the stairs.
The first sight that greeted her had been Duncan and Methos engaged in a mumbled intense conversation. They stopped immediately as they sensed her presence. Cordelia vowed she would figure out a way to sneak up on them- next time she would be able to hear what they were saying about her.
The next day, two surprising things had happened. Free weights and other training equipment, new stuff- not Angel’s stuff, had appeared in the courtyard.
Cordelia had looked in wonder and some annoyance as her peaceful refuge had been turned into an outside gym. Cordelia had guessed she was okay with the intrusion when Duncan explained that the basement was too dark for his taste. She had to sort of agree with him on that one.
Angel felt comfortable in the dark and the basement was his space to train. Cordelia hadn’t been able to stop from feeling slightly guilty for following Duncan into the bright sun. It wasn’t Angel’s fault that the sun subjugated him to the deep dark basement. But still, no matter her unease Cordelia had gone, because that’s where Duncan went and she guessed she needed the immortal.
Then a strange man- Antonio was his name- showed up with a bunch of swords. The man watched her swing all of them, first telling her to do it with her right hand than left and then both over and over again. Afterwards, he measured as far as Cordelia could tell every inch of her body.
The way his hands were all over her, Cordelia swore she’d better end up with a form fitting designer gown. Antonio had ignored her comments as he packed up his things and disappeared, leaving her with one of the swords he had brought, telling her she should just throw Angel’s away.
Cordelia had thought then that she and Duncan would start really practicing. But no, for the next few days, Duncan just put her through a bunch of stretches and weight training that concentrated on her arms and wrists. Duncan had just rolled his eyes and laughed when she had complained about turning into some bulky she-man. He had told her not to worry as he appraised her in her tight workout clothes, commenting that no one would ever confuse Cordelia’s gender. His soft accent, his warm eyes glancing over her had made her blush like a teenager.
Duncan then began her lessons in Tai Chi, explaining that the martial art would teach her discipline and control. Cordelia had recognized some of the moves from when Angel practiced it, but she hadn’t really understood them until Duncan put her through them one by one. It had been harder than it looked.
On, the fourth day, Antonio had come back and proudly presented Duncan with a long wrapped package.
Duncan had nodded satisfied as he took out a long sword. Methos even nodded his approval. Wesley and Gunn had practically fallen over themselves drooling over the weapon.
It seemed that Wesley had taken the time from Antonio’s first visit to find out that Antonio was the most prominent sword maker in the western-hemisphere and that the original creation handed to Cordelia must have cost a fortune; one that was obviously paid for because the sword maker had left proud and happy. Fred just ahh-ed and squealed that it was pretty.
Cordelia had guessed it was okay. It was silver and shiny and had a really intricate golden sun embedded in the hilt. So, sure, it was prettier than Angel’s old one but it didn’t look much longer and the blade wasn’t as wide. She hadn’t understood the big deal, so it was expensive- she figured she’d have to find a way to pay Duncan back.
That had been her main thought until she held the sword. Then she understood and was so much more grateful to the Highlander. The grip fit her hands perfectly. Cordelia had understood as she swung the new sword easily in the air why Wesley said Antonio was a genius in his craft. Just as she had understood why Antonio had spent so much time measuring her hands and fingers. The new sword felt like an extension of her arms. It was beautiful in look and feel.
Pretty and a good feel wouldn’t necessarily keep her alive. Cordelia had slightly cringed at that thought, she had felt the sword and questioned it- she knew deep in her being that it mattered- a blade would only be what kept her from death- at that moment she believed all that Duncan and Methos had told her and just as quickly- she refused to accept it. She had nodded perfunctorily as Duncan explained that heavy didn’t mean stronger.
She had listened as Duncan and Antonio had assured her that the thinner blade would withstand the largest broadsword and the length was perfect for her arm span and Antonio pointed out proudly the sun matched her tattoo, it made the sword unique to her. Cordelia had half listened as she struggled with the truth she had discovered.
Like all bad truths, Cordelia rationalized and denied it away. Duncan said she needed to be trained, Wesley had agreed, so why not take the amazing sword. It didn’t mean that she accepted the ‘immortal destiny of chopping heads’.
So Cordelia had gone to bed with the sword prominently near her reach, but not before she had spent that evening, alone, trying to compare the reflection of her sun tattoo to the engraved design. She had to concede after a few jerking jumps and turns that it was damn close if not better, while it didn’t have the color of her tattoo, it was able to catch the lights with its sharp lines and give the illusion of a burst of color that put rainbows to shame and paled the copied sun on her lower back to barely nothing. Antonio was a genius and damn observant. She had no idea when the man had an opportunity to see her tattoo long enough to duplicate it.
The next training had begun. And that’s when Cordelia decided that the handsome, polite, teasing, generous Scottish Immortal was a sadist at heart.
He may have smiled and told her not to worry about how much the sword cost or how she was going to pay him back, which was cool, Duncan must have been much better at getting and maintaining an investment portfolio than Angel had in his long life, but that didn’t change the fact, Duncan was torturing her and enjoyed it.
***
Three months later, Cordelia had come to the conclusion that Duncan wasn’t trying to torture her but teach her.
Teach her for what? That question still haunted her, no matter her denials as to the destiny that Duncan and Methos spoke of. She was beginning to believe that someday she would actually have to take a head, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
The training went on, but where did that leave her, getting pretty effective with sword but still no purpose to speak of and no Angel to help her figure it out.
Cordelia took a deep breath pulling the shirt tail up. Who was she kidding, she couldn’t smell Angel, hell, she was even having a hard time picturing him anymore. Dark hair, dark eyes, great build, leather- every time she tried- Duncan’s face popped up.
Cordelia hit the bed again finally figuring out what was keeping her up. Duncan was who she pictured when thinking about her unknown future.
Her mind was battling with her past life and her future one and Duncan was winning. Cordelia didn’t want him to, not really, but, she wasn’t Angel’s seer anymore and as soon as he came back he could fight the demons in Gabriel’s visions- Wesley and Gunn, wouldn’t need the Immortals’ skills. Not one of her old family would need her.
Small tears ran down Cordelia’s cheeks. She was now wishing for the vampire not to return because once he did then no one would need her. She punched the mattress. Cordelia should just accept that her place was with Duncan and Methos.
She was an Immortal, she had no part of the Powers’ mission; they proved that when they took her visions away.
Part 10
Angel leant his head back against the hard wall of the cargo hold. He scratched off the last mark on the makeshift calendar. He would have to stay hidden for a few more hours then he could move around. He could handle it because every mark was evidence of his going home.
He should have risked an airplane. But habits were hard to give up. Airplanes had windows and really were people meant to fly? They didn’t have wings. Still ships took way too long especially when he had somewhere to be and Angel did- he had a home to get to.
Leaning his head up against the solid surface, he wondered why he had even left. Home was where the comfort was. It sure wasn’t in the monastery, even before he was almost killed by the monk-demons. All he had wanted was a moment of peace, so he could think, remember and feel sorrow.
Gunn was right, he should have gone to Vegas, then at least it wouldn’t have been so far to get back to where he should have stayed in the first place.
Angel guessed he could try to find the thoughts that were scattered and hard to grasp when he first left- it was quiet now, dark, smelly and gross. He smiled as he pictured Cordelia pacing and ewwing and complaining about his accommodations. She would hate it but in the end, she also would accept it because of his needs.
She would’ve bitched but never would she have left him to the dark by himself. Angel drew out a long unneeded breath being alone was a feeling that he was long accustomed to and one he slowly realized over the years he hated with a passion. For the last three years he hadn’t been alone. Angel shuffled trying to make himself the least bit comfortable.
Angel had tried to be alone but Doyle and Cordelia hadn’t let him and when Doyle was gone, Cordy had forced herself on him even more. Angel smiled a very small grin. Cordelia. She never let him be. When she wasn’t pushing her way in she was in his thoughts.
Cordelia, the friend that was always there, Angel almost had to force himself to remember she hadn’t been in his life always or that when she was she wasn’t special to him. Thank god she understood that he wasn’t leaving her again. She had. She had to have. He told her….no. Angel cringed. And remembered more accurately.
Willow had been there and told them about Buffy. Angel saw in slow motion as Cordelia’s hand reached for his, he saw just as slowly his hand knocking her away. He watched himself go up the stairs alone. He heard her knock and beg to help him. He saw himself tell her that he needed to be alone. He saw himself tell her that she couldn’t help him. Angel saw himself leaving her.
Angel saw all of that just as he realized why he had done it. Why did his epiphanies always come too late? But, he hadn’t known then, later alone in the monastery before the monks turned into demon-killers, he realized that he didn’t want to be alone, he wanted someone to talk to, someone to understand that a part of his life had ended he wanted someone to hold his hand and tell him that it would be alright, he wanted someone to tell him that it was okay that he could live without Buffy……he wanted someone to tell him that it was okay that he loved another.
That’s what Angel learned- he had loved Buffy, she had died and he felt pain…that wasn’t unexpected… deep down he had known that as a vampire he would most likely outlive the slayer, it was a hurt that he had accepted when he decided to leave Sunnydale or at least he thought he had. But with Willow’s words it hit him straight in the gut harder than any demon could’ve struck, Buffy was gone.
The pain was harsh but the guilt was even more. It was the pain, the immense feeling of guilt and the accompanying surprise at the kernel of understanding that fueled the guilt that made Angel run to places far and unknown.
The sorrow had filled his body as Willow’s slow words told the tale of Buffy’s heroic death, but joy had still beat rapid in his body as he looked to Cordy in her Pylean princess finery. He had saved her. Cordelia was safe and home. He wanted to shout and grab her in his arms but then he remembered as Willow’s choked voice told more about Buffy’s death. Then he felt the weight of more guilt than he ever imagined.
Angel sat straighter and said out loud the unimaginable question- if he had known there was a choice- try to save Buffy or try to save Cordy, only one choice, only one chance- what would he have done?- his first reaction would be Buffy, after all she was the love of his long life…yet, she was the slayer, supernaturally strong, Cordy wasn’t.
He would’ve chosen to go after Cordy – she would’ve needed him to save her, she had. Angel wished with all of his being that Buffy had survived. But Cordelia didn’t have the strength of a slayer and Angel couldn’t have let Cordy be alone in some hell dimension, he couldn’t let her try to fight without him. Cordy didn’t know how to fight, not really. Angel laughed sadly asking Buffy’s memory for forgiveness.
Angel wished the ship faster. He wanted to be home. He wanted Cordy to tell him that everything would be alright.
