And she thought the higher realm had been boring!
ooc: All righty, ere's my attempt to explain where the heck Cordy's been for the - eek! - 6 or 7 months we've been gone. There's a little retconning of the original story when she went into rehab, but nothing major, I don't think. I know it's probably stretching things a bit, but it's the best I could come up with that (hopefully) wouldn't screw up anyone else's storylines. She will soon be back in action, though possibly not until after the 20th or so. I'm off on vacation on the 11th, so the next few days are going to be insane with the preparing and whatnot. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get her back while Kara was in the hospital, but once she's back, she'll be rushing to NY to see everyone there, no doubt. I'm so sorry I kept her away for so long! :(
"I don't know how the other oracles did it." Cordelia stretched out on the cold marble and stared at the ceiling. There were exactly 1532 blemishes in the stone above her. She knew this because she'd counted them. About a hundred times. "How did they live here all the time, and not just... die?"
Bad choice of words, possibly, since in the end, they had died. Nastily, too.
Dave shrugged as he picked up his cell phone and wallet from the neatly folded pile of clothes beside him. "It's what they were born to do. They didn't know anything else."
"Well I do, and this sucks. How long did you say I have left?"
"Two weeks."
"That's like, four months in here. I already feel like I've been here for a decade! At least tell me something? Who won American Idol? Wait, forget that. I only saw part of the auditions, so I probably wouldn't even know any of the people. What about Dancing with the Stars? I already forgot who was supposed to be in it this year, but did Maksim win finally?"
"Cordelia, you know I'm not allowed to tell you anything while you're here."
"Oh come on, crap like that doesn't count!" She hated that rule. She'd badgered him for the first two months to tell her news about her friends and family. Any tiny bit of news, but he wouldn't budge. It was some kind of punishment from the Powers That Be, she was convinced. Wasn't it bad enough that they'd tricked her into agreeing to be their bitch for the past 3 months? Locked away in this marble hell with no way out, no cell service, no Internet, no TV, nothing. Her only outside contact was when Dave came in to see a petitioner, and the petitioners themselves, who were always too wrapped in their own personal dramas to tell her anything important. All because she got addicted to those damn painkillers.
Which, as far as she was concerned, was all their fault anyway. If they had just fixed her brain properly the first time, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have been able to be zapped back to her human state, and even if she had been, they should have stepped in to save her before she had time to get addicted to the pills. But no, as usual, the Powers really didn't give a damn about her. They would have let her die if Angel hadn't helped her make the original oracle deal.
She didn't mind being an oracle, not the way she had been at first. It was an easy enough gig, with minimal hours and decent perks. The uniform kind of sucked, but teleporting was awesome enough to make up for it.
Teleporting was out now. All part of the deal she'd made before going into rehab. If the Powers would leave her alone while she got better, and not keep calling her for oracle duty, she would do whatever they wanted once she got out, for as long as she'd been in, to make up the time she missed. At the time, she'd assumed they would just double up her oracle time, or maybe even send her into the higher realm for a little while. Not her ideal choice, but something she could put up with if it meant getting over the pills and back to her old life one day. Extra oracle time wouldn't have been terrible, and as bored as she got in the higher realm, she could still watch her loved ones and keep up on their lives.
Plus, she could have watched American Idol from above - live in the theater every week. That might have been kind of cool.
But no, her punishment was this: 24-hour exile in the oracle den, with her teleporting ability stripped away so she couldn't leave. No outside contact of any kind (other than Dave and those coming to them for help), and no outside information allowed in to her. She was sealed in there, and it was driving her mad. Her only consolation was that she'd told her friends before leaving rehab that she had promised herself to the Powers for the next few months, just in case they beamed her up again and she couldn't come back for a while. Knowing they probably weren't worried about her made it a little easier, but not much.
Rehab was only supposed to last a month, bringing her back to her regular life in time for her birthday. Unfortunately, her addiction had been worse than she'd thought, and her self-control weaker. So instead it had taken her nearly 4 months to get completely clean and feeling steady enough to leave the (very swanky) facility. And while it was good that she'd taken the extra time to make sure she was 100% well again, that had translated into more time doing the PTB's bidding.
Three and a half months in the real world was long enough. But that same amount of time in oracle-land was interminable! Hours here translated to just minutes outside of the marble palace, and months? Felt like years. Many, many years. Thank god she didn't age at that speed, too.
Though she was pretty sure she found a gray hair the other day. She kept feeling her face for wrinkles, but so far it still felt smooth.
Oh yeah, there were no mirrors in there, either. If ever there was a Hell custom-tailored for Cordelia Chase, this had to be it. Forget fire and brimstone. Put her a cold, stone room with no way out and no one (most of the time) to talk to, no TV, no phones, no beauty products and no mirrors? Hell. Definitely Hell.
"This is Hell," she sighed, still staring up at the ceiling. Dave was getting changed, and she had no interest in watching that particular show. No offense to him, but he wasn't her type, and she'd snuck enough peeks the first month she was there. She was bored of that now.
"It's not Hell. It's just... slow."
"Slow?" she said with an annoyed laugh. "No, sweetie, slow is the 405 at rush hour. This is way beyond slow. This is..." She pretended to think about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Hell. This is Hell. No doubt. You just can't see it because you're allowed to leave!"
"You'll be able to leave again, too. It's only two more weeks." Dave fastened his belt and bent down to get his shoes. Cordelia sat up and leaned against the wall, flinching a little at the cold stone against her bare skin. She had really come to hate those tunics they had to wear.
"Which is going to feel like another lifetime, and you know it. Come on, just tell me something. One tiny thing. Like you said, I'm almost done, so what would it hurt? I mean... just tell me my friends are still all okay. That's no big deal, right? It doesn't hurt anything for me to know that, does it?"
Unless they weren't all right. But she wasn't going to think about that. They were fine, they had to be. If anything really serious had happened, surely the Powers would have let her know. They weren't that mean, were they?
Of course they were. Duh. She knew better than that. But still... they were fine. They might have gone through some stuff while she was gone, but they always came out of it in one piece, didn't they?
Dave stared down at his shoe as he tied it, almost like he was avoiding looking at her. "You know I can't do that."
"Yeah, yeah. Rules. Blah." She frowned at him, bothered by the fact that he didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. "Dave? You would tell me if something bad had happened, right?"
There was a long pause while he retied one of the laces. It had been tied fine the first time, and her stomach did a weird little flip. When he finished, he continued to stare down at the floor for a long moment before finally raising his gaze to hers. It was very carefully blank. Her stomach flipped again.
"I can't."
Can't. Not couldn't. Not a hypothetical, "even if someone was dead, I couldn't tell you."
Can't.
Oh god. Who was it?
"Dave, you're scaring me."
"I'm sorry, Cordelia." He straightened up, seeming suddenly awkward. "I have to go. I'll see you later."
"Wait! Dave!" Cordelia jumped to her feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over her. She didn't eat here, so even though she was mysteriously surviving without food or drink, she found sudden moves sometimes made her a little light-headed. She started to chase after him, but he was already gone. "Damn it!"
For the millionth time, she turned and grabbed her iPhone from her little cubby. Not only did she get no signal here, but it had been dead for about 3 months. Still, she jabbed at the button in a vain attempt to wake it up. Nope. Still dead.
All she could do was hope that was the only death in her world. If something had happened to someone she loved while she was trapped in here, all because she'd let herself get hooked on those damn pills, she would never, ever forgive herself.
Cordelia had never been much for praying, but as she slid down to the floor again, she found herself looking back up at that spotty ceiling and sending a few thoughts up to whoever might be listening, begging for the safety and health of her friends. And that the next two weeks would pass by a little more quickly.
"I don't know how the other oracles did it." Cordelia stretched out on the cold marble and stared at the ceiling. There were exactly 1532 blemishes in the stone above her. She knew this because she'd counted them. About a hundred times. "How did they live here all the time, and not just... die?"
Bad choice of words, possibly, since in the end, they had died. Nastily, too.
Dave shrugged as he picked up his cell phone and wallet from the neatly folded pile of clothes beside him. "It's what they were born to do. They didn't know anything else."
"Well I do, and this sucks. How long did you say I have left?"
"Two weeks."
"That's like, four months in here. I already feel like I've been here for a decade! At least tell me something? Who won American Idol? Wait, forget that. I only saw part of the auditions, so I probably wouldn't even know any of the people. What about Dancing with the Stars? I already forgot who was supposed to be in it this year, but did Maksim win finally?"
"Cordelia, you know I'm not allowed to tell you anything while you're here."
"Oh come on, crap like that doesn't count!" She hated that rule. She'd badgered him for the first two months to tell her news about her friends and family. Any tiny bit of news, but he wouldn't budge. It was some kind of punishment from the Powers That Be, she was convinced. Wasn't it bad enough that they'd tricked her into agreeing to be their bitch for the past 3 months? Locked away in this marble hell with no way out, no cell service, no Internet, no TV, nothing. Her only outside contact was when Dave came in to see a petitioner, and the petitioners themselves, who were always too wrapped in their own personal dramas to tell her anything important. All because she got addicted to those damn painkillers.
Which, as far as she was concerned, was all their fault anyway. If they had just fixed her brain properly the first time, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have been able to be zapped back to her human state, and even if she had been, they should have stepped in to save her before she had time to get addicted to the pills. But no, as usual, the Powers really didn't give a damn about her. They would have let her die if Angel hadn't helped her make the original oracle deal.
She didn't mind being an oracle, not the way she had been at first. It was an easy enough gig, with minimal hours and decent perks. The uniform kind of sucked, but teleporting was awesome enough to make up for it.
Teleporting was out now. All part of the deal she'd made before going into rehab. If the Powers would leave her alone while she got better, and not keep calling her for oracle duty, she would do whatever they wanted once she got out, for as long as she'd been in, to make up the time she missed. At the time, she'd assumed they would just double up her oracle time, or maybe even send her into the higher realm for a little while. Not her ideal choice, but something she could put up with if it meant getting over the pills and back to her old life one day. Extra oracle time wouldn't have been terrible, and as bored as she got in the higher realm, she could still watch her loved ones and keep up on their lives.
Plus, she could have watched American Idol from above - live in the theater every week. That might have been kind of cool.
But no, her punishment was this: 24-hour exile in the oracle den, with her teleporting ability stripped away so she couldn't leave. No outside contact of any kind (other than Dave and those coming to them for help), and no outside information allowed in to her. She was sealed in there, and it was driving her mad. Her only consolation was that she'd told her friends before leaving rehab that she had promised herself to the Powers for the next few months, just in case they beamed her up again and she couldn't come back for a while. Knowing they probably weren't worried about her made it a little easier, but not much.
Rehab was only supposed to last a month, bringing her back to her regular life in time for her birthday. Unfortunately, her addiction had been worse than she'd thought, and her self-control weaker. So instead it had taken her nearly 4 months to get completely clean and feeling steady enough to leave the (very swanky) facility. And while it was good that she'd taken the extra time to make sure she was 100% well again, that had translated into more time doing the PTB's bidding.
Three and a half months in the real world was long enough. But that same amount of time in oracle-land was interminable! Hours here translated to just minutes outside of the marble palace, and months? Felt like years. Many, many years. Thank god she didn't age at that speed, too.
Though she was pretty sure she found a gray hair the other day. She kept feeling her face for wrinkles, but so far it still felt smooth.
Oh yeah, there were no mirrors in there, either. If ever there was a Hell custom-tailored for Cordelia Chase, this had to be it. Forget fire and brimstone. Put her a cold, stone room with no way out and no one (most of the time) to talk to, no TV, no phones, no beauty products and no mirrors? Hell. Definitely Hell.
"This is Hell," she sighed, still staring up at the ceiling. Dave was getting changed, and she had no interest in watching that particular show. No offense to him, but he wasn't her type, and she'd snuck enough peeks the first month she was there. She was bored of that now.
"It's not Hell. It's just... slow."
"Slow?" she said with an annoyed laugh. "No, sweetie, slow is the 405 at rush hour. This is way beyond slow. This is..." She pretended to think about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Hell. This is Hell. No doubt. You just can't see it because you're allowed to leave!"
"You'll be able to leave again, too. It's only two more weeks." Dave fastened his belt and bent down to get his shoes. Cordelia sat up and leaned against the wall, flinching a little at the cold stone against her bare skin. She had really come to hate those tunics they had to wear.
"Which is going to feel like another lifetime, and you know it. Come on, just tell me something. One tiny thing. Like you said, I'm almost done, so what would it hurt? I mean... just tell me my friends are still all okay. That's no big deal, right? It doesn't hurt anything for me to know that, does it?"
Unless they weren't all right. But she wasn't going to think about that. They were fine, they had to be. If anything really serious had happened, surely the Powers would have let her know. They weren't that mean, were they?
Of course they were. Duh. She knew better than that. But still... they were fine. They might have gone through some stuff while she was gone, but they always came out of it in one piece, didn't they?
Dave stared down at his shoe as he tied it, almost like he was avoiding looking at her. "You know I can't do that."
"Yeah, yeah. Rules. Blah." She frowned at him, bothered by the fact that he didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. "Dave? You would tell me if something bad had happened, right?"
There was a long pause while he retied one of the laces. It had been tied fine the first time, and her stomach did a weird little flip. When he finished, he continued to stare down at the floor for a long moment before finally raising his gaze to hers. It was very carefully blank. Her stomach flipped again.
"I can't."
Can't. Not couldn't. Not a hypothetical, "even if someone was dead, I couldn't tell you."
Can't.
Oh god. Who was it?
"Dave, you're scaring me."
"I'm sorry, Cordelia." He straightened up, seeming suddenly awkward. "I have to go. I'll see you later."
"Wait! Dave!" Cordelia jumped to her feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over her. She didn't eat here, so even though she was mysteriously surviving without food or drink, she found sudden moves sometimes made her a little light-headed. She started to chase after him, but he was already gone. "Damn it!"
For the millionth time, she turned and grabbed her iPhone from her little cubby. Not only did she get no signal here, but it had been dead for about 3 months. Still, she jabbed at the button in a vain attempt to wake it up. Nope. Still dead.
All she could do was hope that was the only death in her world. If something had happened to someone she loved while she was trapped in here, all because she'd let herself get hooked on those damn pills, she would never, ever forgive herself.
Cordelia had never been much for praying, but as she slid down to the floor again, she found herself looking back up at that spotty ceiling and sending a few thoughts up to whoever might be listening, begging for the safety and health of her friends. And that the next two weeks would pass by a little more quickly.