You slowly make your way down the stairs, and when Cordelia's voice reaches you, you have to smile. Of all the possible choices this was the very best solution.
Cordy is the one person who actually could stay away from the looks and the tip toeing. If she wants to know something, she'll ask. Cause she is Cordelia Chase, and she does nothing but speak her mind.
"Yes, I thought it was... Kinda time. It was getting sort of stale in there." As she lifts her nose to smell if you are as unpleasantly stale, you sit down next to her. "I'm all flower fresh, though."
You tuck a strand of hair, standing straight up from her head, behind her ear. "Were you sleeping down here? Don't you have a home anymore? How long have I been gone?"
"Flower fresh?" I look at Angel, stifling a giggle. Flowers? Not Angel's thing. Or at least I don't think they are - there was always that estranged period after which he proved his severe gay-man's-taste... There could be flowers!
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I nod, suddenly feeling all kinds of strange about that dream I had. "I... I didn't get much sleep last night," I explain, "I was just... Y'know, resting my eyes. And yes, doofus, I have a home. And a ghost! Who was more than willing to make me eggs this morning 'til I ran out 'cause I thought I was missing something." I smile at him to take the sting out of my words.
"You've been gone... Well, a while. Does this reappearance mean you're ready to come back?"
You fall silent after that statement. What more is there to say? That you shouldn't have stayed away so long? That you'd missed them? That would sound kind of hypocretic, considering they'd been in the saame house all the time, knocking on his door, asking if there was anything they could do.
But it is kind of true. You have missed them. The fact that they were just on the other side of that door, didn't help. It could as well have been on another continent. Felt like it anyway.
"And I'm glad you still have a home. And a ghost, I guess."
"I'm glad." I tell him, smiling, "About the... Uh, being back. And y'know, having a house, 'cause for a while it was sorta touch-and-go there."
Okay, so that's not necessarily true. Things didn't get that bad over the summer while he was brooding alone but they did get pretty bad every now and then.
"Did you see the painting?" I point towards Wesley's office, beaming at Angel. "The Sales Guy told me I got it for an absolute steal and-- Okay, I think he was selling me a line but he was kinda hot and..."
It's time to cut the crap. Angel knows me. He knows that I never beat around the bush. It's just not me. "Are you okay, Angel?" I ask, softly.
Okey, time for desicions. Truth or... dare? Or more like lie or dare to tell the truth. It is an easy question when you look into the eyes of the girl before you. She is your best friend. If anyone deserves the truth, it's her. You have no idea whether she'll believe you or just say "Phu-leeeeze! She was the love of your life, of course you're sad!"
You take your chance on dare anyway, for one moment wishing that it'd been Gunn or Wes down here instead. You could've fed them lies like it was pancakes.
"I'm actually ok, Cordy. Which makes me feel really, really bad. Does that make any kind of sense to you? Or am I just a completely unsensetive monster with no capability of normal feelings?"
Ok, so you might have gone a bit over the line there...
Okay, now that was a turn up for the books. Or something less like what Wesley would say. I look at Angel, surprised. For once, I didn't have to drag the truth out of him. I didn't have to sit there and be all me about things while Angel was all, well, Angel about things
( ... )
You sigh. You know she is somewhat right. But she doesn't know the whole deal. She doesn't know...
"I'm not even sorry." You say abruptly, standing up so fast that the chair falls to the floor with a bang. "I'm not even sad that she's dead. She was 'the love of my life', and I'm not sad. I haven't cried a tear. In fact I'm kind of glad for her sake. How is that normal? How does that make me honouring her?"
You smash your fist into the wall, in need for something to take it out on.
I stand and walk towards him, not knowing what he wants me to say. I want to make this right for his sake as much as anyone else's but I'm not sure I can.
"So that's what you've been doing these last couple of months?" I ask, tentatively. "Flagellating? Adding a new mode of brooding to your long list of already perfect skills?" I pause and look at him, taking his now bloody hand from the wall, eyeing the broken plaster with my definitive 'gee, thanks' look.
"Being human has nothing to do with it, Angel. I'm sad that she's gone, yeah, but... The one saving grace is that she's at peace." And somehow, I just know she is at peace, whether it was from that dream. "Those thoughts don't make you less than human. They don't make you a monster or insensitive. You're glad it's over because... Because it's over for her. No more fighting. No more waking up every morning to God knows what. You're honoring her because you're going on, Angel. I know it doesn't seem like that, but you are."
With your hand resting in hers you try to calm down. You can hear the words, and you understand that they make sense, but it won't connect with that feeling in your gut. The demon inside you whispering and taunting, doing a very good job at convincing you that all of this is no use. You are not and you will never be human, so why even pretend. That Shanshu can just go and stuff itself.
Then you look at Cordy again and you wish more than anything in the world that you could hear your heart beat, feel air rushing in and out of your lungs. That you could trust that your feelings were legitimate and just not the demon talking.
You draw back from her, putting the fallen chair in it's place and take a seat.
"You 're right, of course. But it doesn't change the way I feel about it. About myself and... You know what Cordy? Can't we just talk about something else?"
I reach under the counter, grabbing the first aid kit (I swear, that should get better time than I do for the workout it's received this week).
"Remember a few months back?" I ask him, "I did a round of 'are you okay's?' and 'Angel, talk to me, I'm worried about you's'?" Yeah, he remembers alright. "Well, back then? You did this little Angel-like thing of, oh, repressing. And if you repress now and we go back to that? I swear to God, I'll stake your ass."
I pause and gently start patching up his hand. "That? And I really am worried about you, Angel. I love you. You're my best friend. Don't wanna see you go down that road 'cause I didn't do what I should've done last time and just beat the truth out of you."
"You love me?" The surprise in your voice is too evident for your liking, so you try to tone it down to a somewhat neutral level. "And you want to beat me?" That neutral thing failes miserably. You fall silent and watch her fingers patch you up. Things are moving way too fast inside of you now. You can't keep up. So you try to concentrate on the small things.
She is way too good on this bandaging thing. You shouldn't be this good if you're not a trained nurse or... If you had to do it almost every day for several years. You guess one would be this good then.
I look at him, strangely. "Of course I love you, dumbass. And, sometimes? Yeah, I want to beat you... But in a nice way."
Are there any nice ways to beat people? I shake that off, thoughts of dominatrixes and strippers dancing oh so unwelcomely in my head and continue to patch his hand up, aware that he's watching my hands.
Somewhere back there, I think I lost the ramp for 'personal bubble' space but... He's not invading, not really, and I was the one who kinda insisted on patching the guy up.
"You've gone all quiet on me." I tell him after a moment, trying to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling, "I at least expected an 'I love you too, Cordy.'"
"Oh sorry." You snap out of your mental images of Cordy in red leather wielding a whip in a very *cough* professional manner. " I kinda got stuck on that 'beating in a nice way'-image. But of course I love you too."
Again, you're going for normal, even casual maybe, but your voice won't have any of that. Instead it goes all deep and husky and at the same time sort of... nervous? You are so weird lately, you swear you have no idea what's up with you. Except for the whole death of Buffy thing, and being isolated in your room for a short eternity. You've never been nervous in front of Cordy before. Hesitant maybe, or perhaps even slightly unsure, but never nervous.
"Dork." I laugh, pulling the bandage a little tighter around his hand. Not that I blame him for thinking of me that way-- Although I'm not offering the information about the thoughts clogging up my head space two seconds ago.
I notice the dip in his voice, the way his eyes sort of burn into mine but... I put that down to the image-fest I just gave him.
Fastening the end of the bandage with some tape I look up at him and grin, "Voila! That's French for 'I think we stopped the bleeding.'"
"Oh, and here I've been going around for 250 years thinking it..." You face her with an impressive frown on that forehead of yours. "Dork? Did you just call me a dork?"
"Now would I do a thing like that?" I ask, innocently, packing away the First Aid kit. I turn my back on Angel and under my breath (knowing he can hear every word) I mumble, "I also called you clueless, dumbass, a retard... The list goes on..."
Cordy is the one person who actually could stay away from the looks and the tip toeing. If she wants to know something, she'll ask. Cause she is Cordelia Chase, and she does nothing but speak her mind.
"Yes, I thought it was... Kinda time. It was getting sort of stale in there." As she lifts her nose to smell if you are as unpleasantly stale, you sit down next to her. "I'm all flower fresh, though."
You tuck a strand of hair, standing straight up from her head, behind her ear. "Were you sleeping down here? Don't you have a home anymore? How long have I been gone?"
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He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I nod, suddenly feeling all kinds of strange about that dream I had. "I... I didn't get much sleep last night," I explain, "I was just... Y'know, resting my eyes. And yes, doofus, I have a home. And a ghost! Who was more than willing to make me eggs this morning 'til I ran out 'cause I thought I was missing something." I smile at him to take the sting out of my words.
"You've been gone... Well, a while. Does this reappearance mean you're ready to come back?"
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You fall silent after that statement. What more is there to say? That you shouldn't have stayed away so long? That you'd missed them? That would sound kind of hypocretic, considering they'd been in the saame house all the time, knocking on his door, asking if there was anything they could do.
But it is kind of true. You have missed them. The fact that they were just on the other side of that door, didn't help. It could as well have been on another continent. Felt like it anyway.
"And I'm glad you still have a home. And a ghost, I guess."
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Okay, so that's not necessarily true. Things didn't get that bad over the summer while he was brooding alone but they did get pretty bad every now and then.
"Did you see the painting?" I point towards Wesley's office, beaming at Angel. "The Sales Guy told me I got it for an absolute steal and-- Okay, I think he was selling me a line but he was kinda hot and..."
It's time to cut the crap. Angel knows me. He knows that I never beat around the bush. It's just not me. "Are you okay, Angel?" I ask, softly.
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You take your chance on dare anyway, for one moment wishing that it'd been Gunn or Wes down here instead. You could've fed them lies like it was pancakes.
"I'm actually ok, Cordy. Which makes me feel really, really bad. Does that make any kind of sense to you? Or am I just a completely unsensetive monster with no capability of normal feelings?"
Ok, so you might have gone a bit over the line there...
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"I'm not even sorry." You say abruptly, standing up so fast that the chair falls to the floor with a bang. "I'm not even sad that she's dead. She was 'the love of my life', and I'm not sad. I haven't cried a tear. In fact I'm kind of glad for her sake. How is that normal? How does that make me honouring her?"
You smash your fist into the wall, in need for something to take it out on.
"How does that make me human?"
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"So that's what you've been doing these last couple of months?" I ask, tentatively. "Flagellating? Adding a new mode of brooding to your long list of already perfect skills?" I pause and look at him, taking his now bloody hand from the wall, eyeing the broken plaster with my definitive 'gee, thanks' look.
"Being human has nothing to do with it, Angel. I'm sad that she's gone, yeah, but... The one saving grace is that she's at peace." And somehow, I just know she is at peace, whether it was from that dream. "Those thoughts don't make you less than human. They don't make you a monster or insensitive. You're glad it's over because... Because it's over for her. No more fighting. No more waking up every morning to God knows what. You're honoring her because you're going on, Angel. I know it doesn't seem like that, but you are."
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Then you look at Cordy again and you wish more than anything in the world that you could hear your heart beat, feel air rushing in and out of your lungs. That you could trust that your feelings were legitimate and just not the demon talking.
You draw back from her, putting the fallen chair in it's place and take a seat.
"You 're right, of course. But it doesn't change the way I feel about it. About myself and... You know what Cordy? Can't we just talk about something else?"
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I reach under the counter, grabbing the first aid kit (I swear, that should get better time than I do for the workout it's received this week).
"Remember a few months back?" I ask him, "I did a round of 'are you okay's?' and 'Angel, talk to me, I'm worried about you's'?" Yeah, he remembers alright. "Well, back then? You did this little Angel-like thing of, oh, repressing. And if you repress now and we go back to that? I swear to God, I'll stake your ass."
I pause and gently start patching up his hand. "That? And I really am worried about you, Angel. I love you. You're my best friend. Don't wanna see you go down that road 'cause I didn't do what I should've done last time and just beat the truth out of you."
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"You love me?" The surprise in your voice is too evident for your liking, so you try to tone it down to a somewhat neutral level. "And you want to beat me?" That neutral thing failes miserably. You fall silent and watch her fingers patch you up. Things are moving way too fast inside of you now. You can't keep up. So you try to concentrate on the small things.
She is way too good on this bandaging thing. You shouldn't be this good if you're not a trained nurse or... If you had to do it almost every day for several years. You guess one would be this good then.
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Are there any nice ways to beat people? I shake that off, thoughts of dominatrixes and strippers dancing oh so unwelcomely in my head and continue to patch his hand up, aware that he's watching my hands.
Somewhere back there, I think I lost the ramp for 'personal bubble' space but... He's not invading, not really, and I was the one who kinda insisted on patching the guy up.
"You've gone all quiet on me." I tell him after a moment, trying to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling, "I at least expected an 'I love you too, Cordy.'"
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Again, you're going for normal, even casual maybe, but your voice won't have any of that. Instead it goes all deep and husky and at the same time sort of... nervous? You are so weird lately, you swear you have no idea what's up with you. Except for the whole death of Buffy thing, and being isolated in your room for a short eternity. You've never been nervous in front of Cordy before. Hesitant maybe, or perhaps even slightly unsure, but never nervous.
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I notice the dip in his voice, the way his eyes sort of burn into mine but... I put that down to the image-fest I just gave him.
Fastening the end of the bandage with some tape I look up at him and grin, "Voila! That's French for 'I think we stopped the bleeding.'"
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