{michael's} In which Cordelia doesn't remember anything at all.
Michael pulled the Charger to a stop outside the loft and jumped out. He didn't like having to bail on stakeouts, but he also didn't like strangers in his home. He started climbing the stairs and took off his sunglasses as he looked up at Sam.
"What's going on?"
"Not much," Sam said with a shrug. "She's out cold, has been since I got here." Sam knew how Michael felt about people in his home, so for now he would just focus on the fact that she was there, and trying to figure out a peaceable solution that didn't end in having to carry out a body. Because as far as Sam was concerned, she was sleeping far too peacefully for someone in trouble, but not peaceful enough to be faking it. He took a step back from where he was standing, and pointed to her position on the bed. "That's her."
Michael looked at her, running her face through his memory bank. He definitely didn't know her. "I've never seen this woman before in my life..."
Sam shrugged. "Maybe she's a potential client."
"If she's just a client, how'd she get in?" He asked, giving his friend a look.
"She's a creative one?" Sam replied, holding up his hands. "To be honest, I don't know. All the usual fail safes were in place, and she didn't disturb any of them."
He sighed and crossed his arms, moving around to the head of the bed. He glanced at Sam with a clear 'cover me' look, before looking down again. "Okay, Goldilocks, wake up," he said loudly.
She jerked awake with a shock, looking around in surprise at the loud noise. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but then again, she wasn't sure of anything. At all. There was a small sense of deja vu, almost as though she had been through all this before, but other than that there was nothing. She had no idea who she is, where she was, or what the person leaning over her meant to her, if anything at all. Though from the look on his face? She could tell that they weren't friends. That much was a given.
"What?" she frowned, before glancing around to the rest of the loft to try and get her bearings. "Where ... oh no."
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"I ... " Oh, come on. You have a name. Somewhere. Say it! " ... I have no idea."
"Are you looking for help?"
"Maybe? Considering I can't even remember who I am right now, that might be a high possiblity."
He raised a brow. "Do you remember anything?" He wasn't letting his guard down just yet. She could easily be lying.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus, to see if there was anything left behind. "A lot of -- white light? Maybe a hospital? It feels like a hospital. I'm totally bored and there's nothing to do."
Michael sighed. He didn't know what to do. He was getting the feel of potential client off of her, but there was nothing she could tell him. "Do you have anything on you? ID?"
She paused for a minute, before starting to pat down her clothes to see if there was anything. A few minutes later, she came back with a small photo ID card with her picture on it. "Cordelia Chase. Huh. I guess that's me?" She handed the card over to him with a bit of a 'help me please' look on her face.
He took the ID and looked it over carefully. It seemed real enough. "Check her out, Sam," he said, tossing the card to his friend. He looked at her. "Okay, Cordelia. If you are lying we'll find out and use other resources to see what else you're not telling us, sound good?"
Sam caught the ID with a nod, before heading over to the computer to have a look. Cordelia glanced between them, and then took a deep breath before starting to talk to Michael again.
"Sure," she said with a nod. "Sounds ... great." A pause. "Should I be worried? Because for one thing, I'm not sure if I have anything to hide, and if I do have something to hide, are you really gonna hurt me for not disclosing something I can't remember? Because really -- that's not cool. Not cool at all."
"How do I know you really can't remember?"
"Okay, first of all? You got some serious trust issues." She gave him a look right back. "And second of all, if I was playing you, would I have bothered to give you my ID, or more to the point -- "
"Uh, Mikey?" Sam frowned, glancing from the ID to the computer and back again. "We've got a bit of a problem."
He kept his eyes on Cordelia a bit longer, then turned to Sam and walked over. "What?"
Sam turned the computer around to face him, before glancing over at Cordelia. He didn't want to freak her out, so he wasn't going to say it when she was in earshot. On the screen, however, was the official records stating her as deceased, as well as the obituary from the LA Daily News. "I think you can see where our problem is."
Michael leaned over Sam's shoulder and read the information over. His mind worked carefully. "See what else there is on her. Family, career..."
He nodded, before turning back to the computer again, going to see what he could come up with. Cordelia just watched them from her spot on the bed, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Is everything okay?"
"It's fine," Michael said simply.
"Okay, here's something," Sam sighed, turning the screen back to Michael again. "She's originally from Sunnydale. She had parents, but her dad went away for tax evasion, and her mom disappeared off the map. There's some employment history here -- she worked for a place called Angel Investigations for a while, but other than that -- " He was quiet for a minute. "Christ, Mike, she wasn't even twenty-three."
Micheal shook his head. "If she's dead how can she be here? Witness protection maybe?"
"I can check with a buddy of mine in the marshall's office, but if she's in witness protection and she's got amnesia? That can't be good."
He sighed and stood up. "And there's a good chance they wouldn't tell you anyway."
"Exactly. Though if she's missing, there's a good chance they want her back so they can relocate her to somewhere safe."
"Check it out either way, but be careful. If someone is after her they might be looking."
"You got it," Sam nodded, getting up as he started to head out. He glanced over at her and sighed. "What're you gonna do with her?"
Michael shook his head. "I have no idea. Keep her here I guess. For now."
He nodded again, before heading towards the door. "Be careful, Mikey."
"You too, Sam." He walked Sam out, then turned to Cordelia again. He was still on guard, but he knew he should probably say something reassuring... "Okay..." Not like that.
Cordelia watched Sam leave, before looking back at him, eyebrows up. "Okay what?"
"Okay...you're here." He scanned the room, his eyes inevitably landing back on her and her....outfit. "Would you like something more comfortable to wear?"
She nodded. "Please. If you don't mind."
He scratched his head, nodding, and considered what he might have. He turned and went off to find her clothes. When he came back he had found some old sweatpants and a t-shirt. "It's not much."
"Better than looking like a reject from Mount Olympus," she sighed, before taking the clothes from him. "Is there somewhere where I can ... ?"
"Oh, uh...bathroom." He pointed.
"Thanks," she sighed, before pushing herself up and making her way over, closing the door behind her.
Michael shook his head and went to the fridge to pick out a yogurt. He checked his phone for any missed calls and leaned against the counter. Things never ceased to get interesting around his place.
She emerged a few minutes later, completely changed, and gave him a bit of an awkward smile. "So did you find anything?"
He turned and watched her for a moment, before looking down at his yogurt again. "Sam found some public records. High school, work, things like that. He's checking it out further though. Seems like you're from California."
"California," she nodded. "Nice."
"If you like a lot of sunshine."
"What's wrong with the sun?" she said with an amused look, sitting back down on the bed again.
He shrugged. A lot of sun reminded him of being in Miami, and he hated being in Miami.
She looked him over again before sighing. "Well, it's not like you need the color."
He looked up and raised a brow, spoon frozen in the air.
She gave him a look right back, before gesturing with her hand. "Well, look at you! All tan and muscley. It's clear you don't need to sunbathe."
He smirked. "That can give you cancer."
She grinned. "Not if you use the right sunblock." Then a sigh. "Is it sad that I know all this random information, but I couldn't even figure out my own name?"
"Memories are tricky that way. It's good you remember something though."
"Yeah, I guess," she sighed. "Where am I, anyway? Other than your home."
"Miami."
"Miami. Clearly why you don't need to appreciate California." She sighed. "Okay. Miami. Which means I'm probably very far from anyone that actually knows me."
"Who knows?" He shrugged. "Maybe you live here."
She sighed. "Did you happen to find what I did for a living? Maybe that'll help? I mean, I had to have a job, right?"
"Not exactly," he shrugged. "It seemed you worked for an investigator's office, but I'm not sure what you did."
"What kind of investigator?"
"I don't know."
"Oh."
"Sam's looking into it, though. Don't worry." He was starting to feel less on the offense and more like she was a client who needed help. "Look...do you want something to eat? Drink?"
"Sure," she said with a nod. "What do you have?"
He frowned and looked down at his yogurt. "I have...yogurt." He glanced up. "I...could fix something."
"Fixing something sounds better," she nodded.
He sighed. "I'll see what I have." He put down his yogurt and wandered over to the refrigerator to look.
She nodded, moving over to the counter to sit down and watch him. Then she realized something. "By the way -- who're you?"
"Michael Westen," he said, pulling things out of the fridge.
She nodded. "Nice to meet you, Michael Westen."
"You too, Cordelia," he said, looking at her.
She gave him a small smile. "So what do you do here in Miami?"
He turned around and started preparing the food. "A bit of this and that."
"That sounds ... interesting?"
"Not really," he said, downplaying it. But there was a smirk on his lips.
"You know, this is going to be a really boring conversation if I have to do all the talking. Especially considering that I have nothing to talk about."
"I don't exactly have much to talk about," he shrugged.
"Well, you've got more than I do," she sighed. "You got a family? Girlfriend? Wife?"
He sighed. "Family, yes."
"Oh?"
"A mother and a brother," he said, when he realized she wanted more.
"Are they in town?"
"My mother is."
"You two close?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"Apparently I have a curious nature."
"Apparently so," he nodded.
She watched him carefully for a moment. "One you're not going to indulge, apparently."
He smirked and continued cooking.
She sighed softly, starting to drum her fingers against the table.
"Something to drink?"
"Coffee?"
"Sure," he nodded. "Do you like it strong?" He went to the cabinet to get his coffee.
She paused. "That ... I don't know."
He turned around and raised a brow. "You don't know how you like your coffee?"
"Amnesia, remember?"
"Oh. Right. Well, I'll go midway for you." He started filling the coffee pot.
"Thanks," she said with a nod.
He went back to cooking while the coffee brewed.
She sat around watching, before reaching for one of the newspapers on the counter and starting to flip through it.
He glanced over at her. "Let me know if anything jars your memory."
"I will," she sighed softly, rubbing the back of her neck. "But it feels like it's been ages since I've looked at a newspaper."
"It's still the same bad news," he said.
"Yeah, but the date always changes."
He sighed and nodded. "So, uh...I hope you like chicken."
"Well, I don't know that I don't like it."
After a few more minutes he poured her a cup of coffee, then went about plating up the food. "I guess we'll find out."
"I guess we will," she nodded, before taking a sip of the coffee and making a face. "Yick. Where's the sugar?"
He smirked and nodded towards the cabinet that had the bag of sugar in it.
She gave him a grateful smile, before heading over to find the sugar. A few minutes later, Sam came in the door and looked over at Mike with a bit of a worried look. "Mikey, can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Sure," he nodded. He turned off the stove and pushed a plate in front of Cordelia. "Enjoy. If you don't like it....there's yogurt." He headed over towards Sam.
"Thanks," she said as she sat down to eat it.
Sam pulled Michael out of the loft so that they were standing on the porch. "Okay, I don't know what's going on, but something's wrong with this picture."
"How so?"
"I talked to my buddy in WitSec. They've never heard of Cordelia Chase. So I went looking into her death a little more. Turns out, she was in a coma for six months and the ward of a law firm called Wolfram and Hart while she was. She was pronounced dead on February 4, 2004. This girl is supposed dead-dead."
"Well Sam, clearly she isn't dead."
"I don't know what to tell you, man. All I know is that legally, as far as the world's concerned, she's ceased to exist six years ago."
Michael went quiet as he thought this over, then he shrugged. "Let's see about talking to some of the people she knew. We won't tell them she's here."
"I'll make some phone calls, see if I can track them down." He glanced back at Cordelia through the window. "What're you gonna tell her?"
"I don't know," Michael sighed. "I don't think she'll take too well to the news that she's dead."
"I definitely wouldn't."
"So...what do I tell her?" Michael wasn't so great with the talking it out side of things, and he was worried she'd want to.
"We're looking in to all our options?"
"Right. Okay." He nodded. Yes, he was a grown man afraid to go talk to the girl.
"C'mon, Mikey. You've lied to scarier people."
"Sure, lying to scary people is easy. Lying to women who want me dead is easy. Lying to a girl who has no idea who she is or where she is...seems wrong." Not that he had a better alternative.
"It's better than tellin' her she's dead," Sam sighed. "And it's not totally a lie."
"Okay," Michael nodded. "You sticking around?"
"If you don't want me to start on those phone calls? Otherwise I was gonna take off."
"Okay," he nodded again. "Let me know what turns up." He went for the door.
"Will do," he said with a nod, before heading back to his car.
Michael took a breath and walked back inside.
Cordelia looked up when she heard him come in and gave him a smile. "Find out anything?"
"No, not really. He's got more to look into, but..." he shrugged, wandering towards her.
"Oh," she said with a nod. "Well, I guess that's not totally bad, right?"
"No, we're getting there." He sat beside her.
"That's good," she nodded. "That's really good."
"So uh...the food okay?"
She grinned. "Food's great."
"Good. And until we figure things out, you can take over my bed. I'll take the couch."
"Oh, you don't have to do that," she sighed. "I can take the couch."
"No." He got up and made a plate of food for himself.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," he nodded, giving her a small smile.
She sighed. "Okay. But don't complain to me when your back hurts."
"I've slept in worse conditions than my own couch."
"Just making sure."
"I don't have TV or anything to keep you entertained. I could get Sam to bring you some magazines or something."
"Well, this is Miami," she said with a small smile. "I could go to the beach."
He turned to look at her with a raised brow. "I...don't know, Cordelia. Until we know what's going on...I don't think you should be out much."
She sighed heavily, before looking out the window. "Is that a nightclub?"
"...yes?"
"Can I go there?"
"I don't think that's a very good idea."
She huffed with a bit of a pout. "Can I go anywhere?"
He sighed. "As in now?"
"As in at all?"
"We'll see how things go. But if you really need to get out now, we could take a walk. Stick close to home."
"Not now. But if you keep me in here forever, I'm going to go stir crazy."
He sighed. "Let's not think the worst yet."
"Fine," she sighed, before moving her plate over to the sink and then turning back to face him. "I'll keep myself occupied."
"You make it sound like you're being held in a prison."
"Well, an empty loft and I can't even go to the night club downstairs?"
He rolled his eyes. "Not when I don't know if someone is trying to kill you."
"Trying to kill me? Really?"
"That is usually why people are here."
"Well, I don't know how I got here. So what does that tell you?"
"That we have even less an idea of what's going on." He couldn't help it, his lips were turning up in a smile.
She gave him a bit of a frustrated look, before moving over and slumping down on the bed. "Fine."
He moved his dishes to the sink and walked over, standing over her with crossed arms. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
She looked up at him, before glancing around. "Installing a TV?"
"I can see if we can bring one in," he nodded. "I think my mom has an old one she doesn't use."
"Okay," she nodded. "If I have a TV, I'm good."
"Okay, good."
"Good," she nodded, before leaning back on the bed.
"Get some rest, we can talk more later." He turned off the lamp by the bed.
"Okay," she sighed, before curling up on the bed and starting to drift off.
Michael wandered over to his workstation and turned on a dimmer lamp, glancing her way, before grabbing something to fiddle with.
"What's going on?"
"Not much," Sam said with a shrug. "She's out cold, has been since I got here." Sam knew how Michael felt about people in his home, so for now he would just focus on the fact that she was there, and trying to figure out a peaceable solution that didn't end in having to carry out a body. Because as far as Sam was concerned, she was sleeping far too peacefully for someone in trouble, but not peaceful enough to be faking it. He took a step back from where he was standing, and pointed to her position on the bed. "That's her."
Michael looked at her, running her face through his memory bank. He definitely didn't know her. "I've never seen this woman before in my life..."
Sam shrugged. "Maybe she's a potential client."
"If she's just a client, how'd she get in?" He asked, giving his friend a look.
"She's a creative one?" Sam replied, holding up his hands. "To be honest, I don't know. All the usual fail safes were in place, and she didn't disturb any of them."
He sighed and crossed his arms, moving around to the head of the bed. He glanced at Sam with a clear 'cover me' look, before looking down again. "Okay, Goldilocks, wake up," he said loudly.
She jerked awake with a shock, looking around in surprise at the loud noise. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but then again, she wasn't sure of anything. At all. There was a small sense of deja vu, almost as though she had been through all this before, but other than that there was nothing. She had no idea who she is, where she was, or what the person leaning over her meant to her, if anything at all. Though from the look on his face? She could tell that they weren't friends. That much was a given.
"What?" she frowned, before glancing around to the rest of the loft to try and get her bearings. "Where ... oh no."
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"I ... " Oh, come on. You have a name. Somewhere. Say it! " ... I have no idea."
"Are you looking for help?"
"Maybe? Considering I can't even remember who I am right now, that might be a high possiblity."
He raised a brow. "Do you remember anything?" He wasn't letting his guard down just yet. She could easily be lying.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus, to see if there was anything left behind. "A lot of -- white light? Maybe a hospital? It feels like a hospital. I'm totally bored and there's nothing to do."
Michael sighed. He didn't know what to do. He was getting the feel of potential client off of her, but there was nothing she could tell him. "Do you have anything on you? ID?"
She paused for a minute, before starting to pat down her clothes to see if there was anything. A few minutes later, she came back with a small photo ID card with her picture on it. "Cordelia Chase. Huh. I guess that's me?" She handed the card over to him with a bit of a 'help me please' look on her face.
He took the ID and looked it over carefully. It seemed real enough. "Check her out, Sam," he said, tossing the card to his friend. He looked at her. "Okay, Cordelia. If you are lying we'll find out and use other resources to see what else you're not telling us, sound good?"
Sam caught the ID with a nod, before heading over to the computer to have a look. Cordelia glanced between them, and then took a deep breath before starting to talk to Michael again.
"Sure," she said with a nod. "Sounds ... great." A pause. "Should I be worried? Because for one thing, I'm not sure if I have anything to hide, and if I do have something to hide, are you really gonna hurt me for not disclosing something I can't remember? Because really -- that's not cool. Not cool at all."
"How do I know you really can't remember?"
"Okay, first of all? You got some serious trust issues." She gave him a look right back. "And second of all, if I was playing you, would I have bothered to give you my ID, or more to the point -- "
"Uh, Mikey?" Sam frowned, glancing from the ID to the computer and back again. "We've got a bit of a problem."
He kept his eyes on Cordelia a bit longer, then turned to Sam and walked over. "What?"
Sam turned the computer around to face him, before glancing over at Cordelia. He didn't want to freak her out, so he wasn't going to say it when she was in earshot. On the screen, however, was the official records stating her as deceased, as well as the obituary from the LA Daily News. "I think you can see where our problem is."
Michael leaned over Sam's shoulder and read the information over. His mind worked carefully. "See what else there is on her. Family, career..."
He nodded, before turning back to the computer again, going to see what he could come up with. Cordelia just watched them from her spot on the bed, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Is everything okay?"
"It's fine," Michael said simply.
"Okay, here's something," Sam sighed, turning the screen back to Michael again. "She's originally from Sunnydale. She had parents, but her dad went away for tax evasion, and her mom disappeared off the map. There's some employment history here -- she worked for a place called Angel Investigations for a while, but other than that -- " He was quiet for a minute. "Christ, Mike, she wasn't even twenty-three."
Micheal shook his head. "If she's dead how can she be here? Witness protection maybe?"
"I can check with a buddy of mine in the marshall's office, but if she's in witness protection and she's got amnesia? That can't be good."
He sighed and stood up. "And there's a good chance they wouldn't tell you anyway."
"Exactly. Though if she's missing, there's a good chance they want her back so they can relocate her to somewhere safe."
"Check it out either way, but be careful. If someone is after her they might be looking."
"You got it," Sam nodded, getting up as he started to head out. He glanced over at her and sighed. "What're you gonna do with her?"
Michael shook his head. "I have no idea. Keep her here I guess. For now."
He nodded again, before heading towards the door. "Be careful, Mikey."
"You too, Sam." He walked Sam out, then turned to Cordelia again. He was still on guard, but he knew he should probably say something reassuring... "Okay..." Not like that.
Cordelia watched Sam leave, before looking back at him, eyebrows up. "Okay what?"
"Okay...you're here." He scanned the room, his eyes inevitably landing back on her and her....outfit. "Would you like something more comfortable to wear?"
She nodded. "Please. If you don't mind."
He scratched his head, nodding, and considered what he might have. He turned and went off to find her clothes. When he came back he had found some old sweatpants and a t-shirt. "It's not much."
"Better than looking like a reject from Mount Olympus," she sighed, before taking the clothes from him. "Is there somewhere where I can ... ?"
"Oh, uh...bathroom." He pointed.
"Thanks," she sighed, before pushing herself up and making her way over, closing the door behind her.
Michael shook his head and went to the fridge to pick out a yogurt. He checked his phone for any missed calls and leaned against the counter. Things never ceased to get interesting around his place.
She emerged a few minutes later, completely changed, and gave him a bit of an awkward smile. "So did you find anything?"
He turned and watched her for a moment, before looking down at his yogurt again. "Sam found some public records. High school, work, things like that. He's checking it out further though. Seems like you're from California."
"California," she nodded. "Nice."
"If you like a lot of sunshine."
"What's wrong with the sun?" she said with an amused look, sitting back down on the bed again.
He shrugged. A lot of sun reminded him of being in Miami, and he hated being in Miami.
She looked him over again before sighing. "Well, it's not like you need the color."
He looked up and raised a brow, spoon frozen in the air.
She gave him a look right back, before gesturing with her hand. "Well, look at you! All tan and muscley. It's clear you don't need to sunbathe."
He smirked. "That can give you cancer."
She grinned. "Not if you use the right sunblock." Then a sigh. "Is it sad that I know all this random information, but I couldn't even figure out my own name?"
"Memories are tricky that way. It's good you remember something though."
"Yeah, I guess," she sighed. "Where am I, anyway? Other than your home."
"Miami."
"Miami. Clearly why you don't need to appreciate California." She sighed. "Okay. Miami. Which means I'm probably very far from anyone that actually knows me."
"Who knows?" He shrugged. "Maybe you live here."
She sighed. "Did you happen to find what I did for a living? Maybe that'll help? I mean, I had to have a job, right?"
"Not exactly," he shrugged. "It seemed you worked for an investigator's office, but I'm not sure what you did."
"What kind of investigator?"
"I don't know."
"Oh."
"Sam's looking into it, though. Don't worry." He was starting to feel less on the offense and more like she was a client who needed help. "Look...do you want something to eat? Drink?"
"Sure," she said with a nod. "What do you have?"
He frowned and looked down at his yogurt. "I have...yogurt." He glanced up. "I...could fix something."
"Fixing something sounds better," she nodded.
He sighed. "I'll see what I have." He put down his yogurt and wandered over to the refrigerator to look.
She nodded, moving over to the counter to sit down and watch him. Then she realized something. "By the way -- who're you?"
"Michael Westen," he said, pulling things out of the fridge.
She nodded. "Nice to meet you, Michael Westen."
"You too, Cordelia," he said, looking at her.
She gave him a small smile. "So what do you do here in Miami?"
He turned around and started preparing the food. "A bit of this and that."
"That sounds ... interesting?"
"Not really," he said, downplaying it. But there was a smirk on his lips.
"You know, this is going to be a really boring conversation if I have to do all the talking. Especially considering that I have nothing to talk about."
"I don't exactly have much to talk about," he shrugged.
"Well, you've got more than I do," she sighed. "You got a family? Girlfriend? Wife?"
He sighed. "Family, yes."
"Oh?"
"A mother and a brother," he said, when he realized she wanted more.
"Are they in town?"
"My mother is."
"You two close?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"Apparently I have a curious nature."
"Apparently so," he nodded.
She watched him carefully for a moment. "One you're not going to indulge, apparently."
He smirked and continued cooking.
She sighed softly, starting to drum her fingers against the table.
"Something to drink?"
"Coffee?"
"Sure," he nodded. "Do you like it strong?" He went to the cabinet to get his coffee.
She paused. "That ... I don't know."
He turned around and raised a brow. "You don't know how you like your coffee?"
"Amnesia, remember?"
"Oh. Right. Well, I'll go midway for you." He started filling the coffee pot.
"Thanks," she said with a nod.
He went back to cooking while the coffee brewed.
She sat around watching, before reaching for one of the newspapers on the counter and starting to flip through it.
He glanced over at her. "Let me know if anything jars your memory."
"I will," she sighed softly, rubbing the back of her neck. "But it feels like it's been ages since I've looked at a newspaper."
"It's still the same bad news," he said.
"Yeah, but the date always changes."
He sighed and nodded. "So, uh...I hope you like chicken."
"Well, I don't know that I don't like it."
After a few more minutes he poured her a cup of coffee, then went about plating up the food. "I guess we'll find out."
"I guess we will," she nodded, before taking a sip of the coffee and making a face. "Yick. Where's the sugar?"
He smirked and nodded towards the cabinet that had the bag of sugar in it.
She gave him a grateful smile, before heading over to find the sugar. A few minutes later, Sam came in the door and looked over at Mike with a bit of a worried look. "Mikey, can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Sure," he nodded. He turned off the stove and pushed a plate in front of Cordelia. "Enjoy. If you don't like it....there's yogurt." He headed over towards Sam.
"Thanks," she said as she sat down to eat it.
Sam pulled Michael out of the loft so that they were standing on the porch. "Okay, I don't know what's going on, but something's wrong with this picture."
"How so?"
"I talked to my buddy in WitSec. They've never heard of Cordelia Chase. So I went looking into her death a little more. Turns out, she was in a coma for six months and the ward of a law firm called Wolfram and Hart while she was. She was pronounced dead on February 4, 2004. This girl is supposed dead-dead."
"Well Sam, clearly she isn't dead."
"I don't know what to tell you, man. All I know is that legally, as far as the world's concerned, she's ceased to exist six years ago."
Michael went quiet as he thought this over, then he shrugged. "Let's see about talking to some of the people she knew. We won't tell them she's here."
"I'll make some phone calls, see if I can track them down." He glanced back at Cordelia through the window. "What're you gonna tell her?"
"I don't know," Michael sighed. "I don't think she'll take too well to the news that she's dead."
"I definitely wouldn't."
"So...what do I tell her?" Michael wasn't so great with the talking it out side of things, and he was worried she'd want to.
"We're looking in to all our options?"
"Right. Okay." He nodded. Yes, he was a grown man afraid to go talk to the girl.
"C'mon, Mikey. You've lied to scarier people."
"Sure, lying to scary people is easy. Lying to women who want me dead is easy. Lying to a girl who has no idea who she is or where she is...seems wrong." Not that he had a better alternative.
"It's better than tellin' her she's dead," Sam sighed. "And it's not totally a lie."
"Okay," Michael nodded. "You sticking around?"
"If you don't want me to start on those phone calls? Otherwise I was gonna take off."
"Okay," he nodded again. "Let me know what turns up." He went for the door.
"Will do," he said with a nod, before heading back to his car.
Michael took a breath and walked back inside.
Cordelia looked up when she heard him come in and gave him a smile. "Find out anything?"
"No, not really. He's got more to look into, but..." he shrugged, wandering towards her.
"Oh," she said with a nod. "Well, I guess that's not totally bad, right?"
"No, we're getting there." He sat beside her.
"That's good," she nodded. "That's really good."
"So uh...the food okay?"
She grinned. "Food's great."
"Good. And until we figure things out, you can take over my bed. I'll take the couch."
"Oh, you don't have to do that," she sighed. "I can take the couch."
"No." He got up and made a plate of food for himself.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," he nodded, giving her a small smile.
She sighed. "Okay. But don't complain to me when your back hurts."
"I've slept in worse conditions than my own couch."
"Just making sure."
"I don't have TV or anything to keep you entertained. I could get Sam to bring you some magazines or something."
"Well, this is Miami," she said with a small smile. "I could go to the beach."
He turned to look at her with a raised brow. "I...don't know, Cordelia. Until we know what's going on...I don't think you should be out much."
She sighed heavily, before looking out the window. "Is that a nightclub?"
"...yes?"
"Can I go there?"
"I don't think that's a very good idea."
She huffed with a bit of a pout. "Can I go anywhere?"
He sighed. "As in now?"
"As in at all?"
"We'll see how things go. But if you really need to get out now, we could take a walk. Stick close to home."
"Not now. But if you keep me in here forever, I'm going to go stir crazy."
He sighed. "Let's not think the worst yet."
"Fine," she sighed, before moving her plate over to the sink and then turning back to face him. "I'll keep myself occupied."
"You make it sound like you're being held in a prison."
"Well, an empty loft and I can't even go to the night club downstairs?"
He rolled his eyes. "Not when I don't know if someone is trying to kill you."
"Trying to kill me? Really?"
"That is usually why people are here."
"Well, I don't know how I got here. So what does that tell you?"
"That we have even less an idea of what's going on." He couldn't help it, his lips were turning up in a smile.
She gave him a bit of a frustrated look, before moving over and slumping down on the bed. "Fine."
He moved his dishes to the sink and walked over, standing over her with crossed arms. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
She looked up at him, before glancing around. "Installing a TV?"
"I can see if we can bring one in," he nodded. "I think my mom has an old one she doesn't use."
"Okay," she nodded. "If I have a TV, I'm good."
"Okay, good."
"Good," she nodded, before leaning back on the bed.
"Get some rest, we can talk more later." He turned off the lamp by the bed.
"Okay," she sighed, before curling up on the bed and starting to drift off.
Michael wandered over to his workstation and turned on a dimmer lamp, glancing her way, before grabbing something to fiddle with.