Cordelia Chase: her side of the story.
Or: Inspiration Always Strikes Lili when she's Ill. (Because yes, I'm ill again.)
So here's a little Cordelia ficlet. Her inner monologue while she was comatose. Given that I've again got a fever, I'm pretty proud of it. Basically, I wanted to fill in the blanks. I wanted so bad for her to come back in the S4 finale, for her to tell her side of the story. So screw Joss Whedon: I told it for her.
Title: The Tale of Princess Cordy.
Fandom: Angel: the Series.
Characters: Cordelia. Willow, Wesley, Gunn, Doyle, Fred, Angel, Connor, Jasmine all mentioned.
Pairings: Cordelia/Angel, Cordelia/Connor.
Word Count: 1,195.
Disclaimer: If I owned the show I wouldn't have to write this fic.
Summary: Lying comatose, bored and frustrated out of her mind, Cordelia tells her story to whoever's listening.
Link:
.Ok, so first of all - coma? Not so fun. Not as bad as being trapped in the cage of your own body, forced to watch yourself commit atrocities you’d never dream of (and I’m just talking about the clothes She made me wear). Still pretty bad though. Kinda like the Higher-Being place, only considerably gloomier. And, if possible, even more boring.
So here I am, stuck in the dark. And I feel I should confess or at least document my final thoughts, even if it’s to no-one. Hey, I live in a world full of slimy beasties - who am I to say there’s not a physic somewhere hanging on my every thought? So here it is. The Confessions of Cordelia Chase. Wait, that sounds really boring. How about The Tale of Princess Cordy? I like that way better.
Ugh. Who am I kidding. I’m no princess any more. Not Queen C, not Bitch Supreme, not a warrior or a Higher Power. I’m just a girl in a coma. Oh my God. I’ve sunk to Faith’s depths. Dear God, kill me now.
Only please don’t.
Only I know it’s coming. I can feel it. It’s like the blackness is getting... blacker. Somehow. Totally wigging me out. So here’s my story, before I go gentle into that good night.
Chapter One: I was a bitch. Yeah, I’ll admit it. And I’ve felt guilty for the wrongs I did, realised I was a bad, bad girl but hey! I’m not gonna say it wasn’t fun giggling at Willow’s various fashion crimes. Plus, I’m through with the guilt trip. I figure: getting possessed by the demon bitchqueen from Hell? Plenty enough bad karma.
Chapter Two: LA. Something changed when I moved there. Maybe it was Angel. Maybe it was getting the visions, seeing so much pain. Maybe it was the mission to make the world a better place. Ah, who am I kidding? It was definitely the poverty. Me, ME!, having to live like that, surrounded by peeling wallpaper and cockroaches (for the record: I don’t care how many icky demons I come across, ‘roaches still freak me out the most), well, it certainly gave me some perspective.
Chapter Three: Angel Investigations. Fighting the good fight. Even when times were hard, somehow it felt alright. Sure, I moaned. I complained. I bitched. (Because who would I be if I didn’t?) But those were the best times of my life. If you’re out there, if you can hear me, Wes, Gunn, Doyle, Fred: thanks for making my life mean something. And you’re welcome for me enriching your lives.
Chapter Four: Love. Tears you apart, makes everything shiny, birds and bees blah blah... So sure, I denied it. Pretended I didn’t melt every time those dark eyes smouldered at me. Ignored the butterflies in my heart when he smiled. Acted like he wasn’t my heart and soul, my reason to carry on, to fight. But there comes a time when you can’t deny it any longer. When you don’t care anymore, want to shout it from the rooftops even if he doesn’t feel the same way. But I knew he did. Because come on! It’s me! (Plus I totally heard him back when I had my first coma, remember? “I need you”? Big softie.) But they fooled me. Tore me away from him just when it was about to get good. Tricked me with stories of destiny, of goodness, of ascension. For all intents and purposes, that was when I died. Right there, all floaty in the big cliché beam of light, that was when I ceased to be Cordelia Chase. After that it was all just ghosts, shades of who I was. Just eyes in space, watching my friends live, love, lie. Then that broken girl, wandering around without a memory to call her own. Just a ghost. Not me. Not how I want to be remembered. And then of course the puppet, the tool for Her to do her evil will. Ugh. If I ever find her in whatever afterlife exists in these enlightened times, she better HOPE I’m in a forgiving mood.
Chapter Five: Connor. Because it’s gotta be said, that kid has a lot going for him. Back when I had no memory, he was the only thing that made sense. There was Angel, that pull in my heart, my soul, that told me we had something, but boy can that man lie. And then there was Connor. Sweet Connor, tortured Connor, who never told me anything but the truth. Yes, ok, I was attracted to him. Like you have any right to judge! Please, look me in the...mind... and tell me truthfully you’ve never lusted on someone younger than you. Yeah. Thought not. Anyway, not that much younger! I mean sure, age is subjective, but honestly - not that big a gap. In any case, I would never have...you know, done the deed. Sure, he was a sweetheart, and sure, sometimes there were naughty thoughts but honestly - Angel’s son. Too complicated.
Chapter Six: Her. Ugh. You know, I felt her. Even when I didn’t even know who I was I knew she was there. Something slimy and wrong just behind my eyes. Maybe even more gross than cockroaches. And just when I thought I could get a happy ending BOOM. Bitch takes the wheel. The things she did. Non-PG, things you’ll never know. Never have to see like I did. In comparison - screwing Connor? Way low on the list of Bad. Oh Connor. I can’t help but pity him, so lost in the world, so played by Her. When It happened I let myself think maybe we were doing something good. Maybe we were giving him what he needed - love, or something like it. But I was just kidding myself. Pushing Her real plan to the back of my mind to make what we did bearable. I’m not going to do a play-by-play for you. But know this - it wasn’t by any means the worst thing she made me do. At least Connor was happy, even if it was just a moment.
Chapter Seven: And then it was just pain. I’m not going to recap all the filth and pain and badness after that day. Some part of me drifted away then, unable to cope. Just... ugh. Don’t even go there.
So now here I am. Stuck here, forced to listen to those empty-headed worshippers of Her’s. Do they have no pride? Jeez, I’m sick of their devotion. Sometimes I look forward to when I finally cough it.
No I don’t. I want to fight. I want to stand up. I want to shout and scream and tell my friends my story and kill that bitch for making me what I never was. What no-one could make me. What I thought I would never be.
Slave. Puppet. Tool. Nobody.
Loser.
Hell no. Someday I’ll come back. Bully the powers, make a deal with a demon, whatever. I don’t care. Hey, I’m CORDELIA CHASE. There’s nothing in this universe can stop me from doing what I want. Not Her. Not Death. Just you wait. I’ll come back. I’ll
.
So here's a little Cordelia ficlet. Her inner monologue while she was comatose. Given that I've again got a fever, I'm pretty proud of it. Basically, I wanted to fill in the blanks. I wanted so bad for her to come back in the S4 finale, for her to tell her side of the story. So screw Joss Whedon: I told it for her.
Title: The Tale of Princess Cordy.
Fandom: Angel: the Series.
Characters: Cordelia. Willow, Wesley, Gunn, Doyle, Fred, Angel, Connor, Jasmine all mentioned.
Pairings: Cordelia/Angel, Cordelia/Connor.
Word Count: 1,195.
Disclaimer: If I owned the show I wouldn't have to write this fic.
Summary: Lying comatose, bored and frustrated out of her mind, Cordelia tells her story to whoever's listening.
Link:
.Ok, so first of all - coma? Not so fun. Not as bad as being trapped in the cage of your own body, forced to watch yourself commit atrocities you’d never dream of (and I’m just talking about the clothes She made me wear). Still pretty bad though. Kinda like the Higher-Being place, only considerably gloomier. And, if possible, even more boring.
So here I am, stuck in the dark. And I feel I should confess or at least document my final thoughts, even if it’s to no-one. Hey, I live in a world full of slimy beasties - who am I to say there’s not a physic somewhere hanging on my every thought? So here it is. The Confessions of Cordelia Chase. Wait, that sounds really boring. How about The Tale of Princess Cordy? I like that way better.
Ugh. Who am I kidding. I’m no princess any more. Not Queen C, not Bitch Supreme, not a warrior or a Higher Power. I’m just a girl in a coma. Oh my God. I’ve sunk to Faith’s depths. Dear God, kill me now.
Only please don’t.
Only I know it’s coming. I can feel it. It’s like the blackness is getting... blacker. Somehow. Totally wigging me out. So here’s my story, before I go gentle into that good night.
Chapter One: I was a bitch. Yeah, I’ll admit it. And I’ve felt guilty for the wrongs I did, realised I was a bad, bad girl but hey! I’m not gonna say it wasn’t fun giggling at Willow’s various fashion crimes. Plus, I’m through with the guilt trip. I figure: getting possessed by the demon bitchqueen from Hell? Plenty enough bad karma.
Chapter Two: LA. Something changed when I moved there. Maybe it was Angel. Maybe it was getting the visions, seeing so much pain. Maybe it was the mission to make the world a better place. Ah, who am I kidding? It was definitely the poverty. Me, ME!, having to live like that, surrounded by peeling wallpaper and cockroaches (for the record: I don’t care how many icky demons I come across, ‘roaches still freak me out the most), well, it certainly gave me some perspective.
Chapter Three: Angel Investigations. Fighting the good fight. Even when times were hard, somehow it felt alright. Sure, I moaned. I complained. I bitched. (Because who would I be if I didn’t?) But those were the best times of my life. If you’re out there, if you can hear me, Wes, Gunn, Doyle, Fred: thanks for making my life mean something. And you’re welcome for me enriching your lives.
Chapter Four: Love. Tears you apart, makes everything shiny, birds and bees blah blah... So sure, I denied it. Pretended I didn’t melt every time those dark eyes smouldered at me. Ignored the butterflies in my heart when he smiled. Acted like he wasn’t my heart and soul, my reason to carry on, to fight. But there comes a time when you can’t deny it any longer. When you don’t care anymore, want to shout it from the rooftops even if he doesn’t feel the same way. But I knew he did. Because come on! It’s me! (Plus I totally heard him back when I had my first coma, remember? “I need you”? Big softie.) But they fooled me. Tore me away from him just when it was about to get good. Tricked me with stories of destiny, of goodness, of ascension. For all intents and purposes, that was when I died. Right there, all floaty in the big cliché beam of light, that was when I ceased to be Cordelia Chase. After that it was all just ghosts, shades of who I was. Just eyes in space, watching my friends live, love, lie. Then that broken girl, wandering around without a memory to call her own. Just a ghost. Not me. Not how I want to be remembered. And then of course the puppet, the tool for Her to do her evil will. Ugh. If I ever find her in whatever afterlife exists in these enlightened times, she better HOPE I’m in a forgiving mood.
Chapter Five: Connor. Because it’s gotta be said, that kid has a lot going for him. Back when I had no memory, he was the only thing that made sense. There was Angel, that pull in my heart, my soul, that told me we had something, but boy can that man lie. And then there was Connor. Sweet Connor, tortured Connor, who never told me anything but the truth. Yes, ok, I was attracted to him. Like you have any right to judge! Please, look me in the...mind... and tell me truthfully you’ve never lusted on someone younger than you. Yeah. Thought not. Anyway, not that much younger! I mean sure, age is subjective, but honestly - not that big a gap. In any case, I would never have...you know, done the deed. Sure, he was a sweetheart, and sure, sometimes there were naughty thoughts but honestly - Angel’s son. Too complicated.
Chapter Six: Her. Ugh. You know, I felt her. Even when I didn’t even know who I was I knew she was there. Something slimy and wrong just behind my eyes. Maybe even more gross than cockroaches. And just when I thought I could get a happy ending BOOM. Bitch takes the wheel. The things she did. Non-PG, things you’ll never know. Never have to see like I did. In comparison - screwing Connor? Way low on the list of Bad. Oh Connor. I can’t help but pity him, so lost in the world, so played by Her. When It happened I let myself think maybe we were doing something good. Maybe we were giving him what he needed - love, or something like it. But I was just kidding myself. Pushing Her real plan to the back of my mind to make what we did bearable. I’m not going to do a play-by-play for you. But know this - it wasn’t by any means the worst thing she made me do. At least Connor was happy, even if it was just a moment.
Chapter Seven: And then it was just pain. I’m not going to recap all the filth and pain and badness after that day. Some part of me drifted away then, unable to cope. Just... ugh. Don’t even go there.
So now here I am. Stuck here, forced to listen to those empty-headed worshippers of Her’s. Do they have no pride? Jeez, I’m sick of their devotion. Sometimes I look forward to when I finally cough it.
No I don’t. I want to fight. I want to stand up. I want to shout and scream and tell my friends my story and kill that bitch for making me what I never was. What no-one could make me. What I thought I would never be.
Slave. Puppet. Tool. Nobody.
Loser.
Hell no. Someday I’ll come back. Bully the powers, make a deal with a demon, whatever. I don’t care. Hey, I’m CORDELIA CHASE. There’s nothing in this universe can stop me from doing what I want. Not Her. Not Death. Just you wait. I’ll come back. I’ll
.