Fic: My Living Doll
I can't believe I didn't post this to my personal LJ. Durrr...
Title: My Living Doll
Author: xlivvielockex
Rating: R
Word Count: 1545
Prompt: 053: Crossover Pairing at still_grrr
Characters/Pairing (if any): Angel/Cordy implied, Angel/Kendall Casablancas
A/N: Kendall is from Veronica Mars. Post NFA for Angel, Pre-Series for Veronica Mars
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He saw her face first when he was walking in West Hollywood. There in the window of a Rent A Center, larger than life, she was shaking her ass in some music video. He had to pause to look. He stood there, transfixed until it was over and he felt as if he lost her again. He was used to people coming back from the dead. Especially the women that he loved.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He spent hours on that wretched old laptop of hers, trying to find out her name. She wasn’t going by Cordelia Chase. That made it all the more difficult. But he was a so called private investigator, so he would find her. Even if he had to tear up every single place in this city. Turned out it was easier than that. He just had to make a call to a record company, pretend to be a video director interested in using her for a video and he had a name. Kendall Lacey Shiftlett.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He had lost everything, including her. The fight with the Senior Partners had left a good portion of L.A. destroyed. The media blamed a massive earthquake that apparently they all knew was coming. Cordy was dead. Fred was dead. Wes was dead. Gunn was dead. It was ironic that the only two that survived, Spike and Illyria, were the ones who probably didn’t deserve to live. The ones who came in last. The ones who weren’t his family. They went off together to Cleveland to fight more evil. L.A. was cleaned up now, so he retreated back to the Hyperion to brood. He had lost his heart.
He still had Connor and a standing coffee date once a month. Honor student at Stanford. Interning at a Fortune 500 company. He showed the boy the pictures of Kendall, told him about Darla and Buffy coming back. He wanted so badly to believe that this was Cordelia, just with her memory gone again. Connor never wanted to discuss it.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
She was a Laker girl now and he actually sat through a basketball game just so he could get a glimpse of her at halftime. They’d made her a cheerleader. She had the body for it. As he watched her from high up in the stands, his whole being was focused on her. She moved like Cordelia, if she’d had a strip club education. She moved those shapely hips from side to side, and he remembered his hands running down them the night of the ballet. He remembered his perfect day, making love to her. His lips burned with that last kiss of hers.
He couldn’t resist following her. He slipped back into the locker room and he watched her. He stalked her. He hid, undetected, as the girls changed. Her body was the same. That little mole in the same place. The heart shape of her ass. The curve of her hips and her full round breasts. He wanted to call out to her that he was here and they would get her memory back. That her name was Cordelia Chase.
He followed her back to her apartment. He waited outside until he couldn’t resist the urging of the sun’s rays any longer. He went back the next night, just to watch her sleep through her window. And the next night. And the next. He learned her routine and what she liked to do when she thought no one was watching, when everyone was asleep. She moved like Cordelia, confident and like sex on two legs.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He “accidentally” ran into her when she was coming out of the locker room one night. There was no hint of recognition in those hazel eyes. He loved those eyes and while they didn’t sparkle quite like Cordelia’s, he could still see the gold flecks that were hers. He asked her out, and after she felt his shirt to check it was silk, she said yes. She liked money. He knew that already from watching her. He knew that if he hid some, she would probably find it.
He lied to her, told her that he liked classic cars and they were expensive to restore when he picked her up in the GTX. She seemed to buy it well enough but he had to wonder if it was the dozen roses he held out that eased her into believing the lie. He took her to the fancy restaurant that Cordelia always raved about. He watched her eat, feeding her another lie about blood work in the morning.
He watched her closely, making casual conversation. She kept angling for his net worth but when he told her that he owned a hotel, it seemed to reassure her. He watched her gestures, seeing bits of Cordelia in the way her hand swept over her plate or the way she held her glass. And when she admonished the waiter for putting too much dressing on her salad, he heard the acid laced tongue of his best friend.
Part of him wanted to move quickly, wanted to take her back to the hotel and tell her that her memory was gone. That he would hunt down the Powers until they gave it back to her. Part of him knew she might bolt if he told her that. She might not be ready for it. So he had to content himself with dropping her off at her apartment with a goodnight kiss and a promise of another date.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He had to pawn several of Wes’ old books and artifacts to keep taking her out. He had to keep up the illusion that he was wealthy. He knew she was just telling him what he wanted to hear. He had seen her kind before. But that wasn’t her. He could see flashes of his Cordelia sometimes when she smiled, or she laughed, or when she lit up at expensive gifts. She’d be his heart again. She had to be.
He took her to the hotel after four dates. He was hoping that she would recognize it, that it would trigger her memory. He told her that he was renovating it to help keep up his lie. He led her upstairs to his bedroom. To the bed where he and Cordelia had slept together. Now he and Kendall were going to be sleeping in it.
She wasn’t how he imagined Cordelia to be. Passive and tender. She was a wildcat, riding him hard and screaming out his name as she climaxed. She believed him when he said he couldn’t have children. She never questioned why his skin was cold. Was this acceptance? Was this ignorance? She felt so good around him, so warm, that he didn’t care. His whole being ached to have what he had lost back once more, if only for a few moments.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
When they were both spent, she fell asleep next to him. She didn’t want to be held, didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t perfect, but it was some kind of release. He went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He sat on the toilet, unused for years, thinking about all that had happened.
He had to keep telling himself that she was Cordelia. That inside the shell that looked like her was the woman that he loved so much. He knew that The Powers could be cruel, they could screw you. That was why they took away everything he cared about, everything he loved, his family. Was this a second chance? Couldn’t they see that he was no good without his heart?
She looked liked Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He went back to her then, after making up his mind. She always put him on the right path. Always told him what he needed to do. Now he would do the same for her. She saved him, he would save her. She would give him something to live for. He crawled back in bed and pulled her sleeping form close. He buried his face in her hair. This was how her hair always smelled. He drifted to sleep, knowing that maybe it would be okay.
She looked liked Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He fed her breakfast in bed the next morning and told her everything. She looked at him like he was half crazy. He thought she probably was figuring him for a Howard Hughes type. Rich and crazy. She went along with it, but he knew that it was only because she thought she would get her hands on the millions that he didn’t have. If he could just keep her here though, he could show her. He could get her memories back. And if he couldn’t, then he would just make her into what he needed.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
Title: My Living Doll
Author: xlivvielockex
Rating: R
Word Count: 1545
Prompt: 053: Crossover Pairing at still_grrr
Characters/Pairing (if any): Angel/Cordy implied, Angel/Kendall Casablancas
A/N: Kendall is from Veronica Mars. Post NFA for Angel, Pre-Series for Veronica Mars
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He saw her face first when he was walking in West Hollywood. There in the window of a Rent A Center, larger than life, she was shaking her ass in some music video. He had to pause to look. He stood there, transfixed until it was over and he felt as if he lost her again. He was used to people coming back from the dead. Especially the women that he loved.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He spent hours on that wretched old laptop of hers, trying to find out her name. She wasn’t going by Cordelia Chase. That made it all the more difficult. But he was a so called private investigator, so he would find her. Even if he had to tear up every single place in this city. Turned out it was easier than that. He just had to make a call to a record company, pretend to be a video director interested in using her for a video and he had a name. Kendall Lacey Shiftlett.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He had lost everything, including her. The fight with the Senior Partners had left a good portion of L.A. destroyed. The media blamed a massive earthquake that apparently they all knew was coming. Cordy was dead. Fred was dead. Wes was dead. Gunn was dead. It was ironic that the only two that survived, Spike and Illyria, were the ones who probably didn’t deserve to live. The ones who came in last. The ones who weren’t his family. They went off together to Cleveland to fight more evil. L.A. was cleaned up now, so he retreated back to the Hyperion to brood. He had lost his heart.
He still had Connor and a standing coffee date once a month. Honor student at Stanford. Interning at a Fortune 500 company. He showed the boy the pictures of Kendall, told him about Darla and Buffy coming back. He wanted so badly to believe that this was Cordelia, just with her memory gone again. Connor never wanted to discuss it.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
She was a Laker girl now and he actually sat through a basketball game just so he could get a glimpse of her at halftime. They’d made her a cheerleader. She had the body for it. As he watched her from high up in the stands, his whole being was focused on her. She moved like Cordelia, if she’d had a strip club education. She moved those shapely hips from side to side, and he remembered his hands running down them the night of the ballet. He remembered his perfect day, making love to her. His lips burned with that last kiss of hers.
He couldn’t resist following her. He slipped back into the locker room and he watched her. He stalked her. He hid, undetected, as the girls changed. Her body was the same. That little mole in the same place. The heart shape of her ass. The curve of her hips and her full round breasts. He wanted to call out to her that he was here and they would get her memory back. That her name was Cordelia Chase.
He followed her back to her apartment. He waited outside until he couldn’t resist the urging of the sun’s rays any longer. He went back the next night, just to watch her sleep through her window. And the next night. And the next. He learned her routine and what she liked to do when she thought no one was watching, when everyone was asleep. She moved like Cordelia, confident and like sex on two legs.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He “accidentally” ran into her when she was coming out of the locker room one night. There was no hint of recognition in those hazel eyes. He loved those eyes and while they didn’t sparkle quite like Cordelia’s, he could still see the gold flecks that were hers. He asked her out, and after she felt his shirt to check it was silk, she said yes. She liked money. He knew that already from watching her. He knew that if he hid some, she would probably find it.
He lied to her, told her that he liked classic cars and they were expensive to restore when he picked her up in the GTX. She seemed to buy it well enough but he had to wonder if it was the dozen roses he held out that eased her into believing the lie. He took her to the fancy restaurant that Cordelia always raved about. He watched her eat, feeding her another lie about blood work in the morning.
He watched her closely, making casual conversation. She kept angling for his net worth but when he told her that he owned a hotel, it seemed to reassure her. He watched her gestures, seeing bits of Cordelia in the way her hand swept over her plate or the way she held her glass. And when she admonished the waiter for putting too much dressing on her salad, he heard the acid laced tongue of his best friend.
Part of him wanted to move quickly, wanted to take her back to the hotel and tell her that her memory was gone. That he would hunt down the Powers until they gave it back to her. Part of him knew she might bolt if he told her that. She might not be ready for it. So he had to content himself with dropping her off at her apartment with a goodnight kiss and a promise of another date.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He had to pawn several of Wes’ old books and artifacts to keep taking her out. He had to keep up the illusion that he was wealthy. He knew she was just telling him what he wanted to hear. He had seen her kind before. But that wasn’t her. He could see flashes of his Cordelia sometimes when she smiled, or she laughed, or when she lit up at expensive gifts. She’d be his heart again. She had to be.
He took her to the hotel after four dates. He was hoping that she would recognize it, that it would trigger her memory. He told her that he was renovating it to help keep up his lie. He led her upstairs to his bedroom. To the bed where he and Cordelia had slept together. Now he and Kendall were going to be sleeping in it.
She wasn’t how he imagined Cordelia to be. Passive and tender. She was a wildcat, riding him hard and screaming out his name as she climaxed. She believed him when he said he couldn’t have children. She never questioned why his skin was cold. Was this acceptance? Was this ignorance? She felt so good around him, so warm, that he didn’t care. His whole being ached to have what he had lost back once more, if only for a few moments.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
When they were both spent, she fell asleep next to him. She didn’t want to be held, didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t perfect, but it was some kind of release. He went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He sat on the toilet, unused for years, thinking about all that had happened.
He had to keep telling himself that she was Cordelia. That inside the shell that looked like her was the woman that he loved so much. He knew that The Powers could be cruel, they could screw you. That was why they took away everything he cared about, everything he loved, his family. Was this a second chance? Couldn’t they see that he was no good without his heart?
She looked liked Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He went back to her then, after making up his mind. She always put him on the right path. Always told him what he needed to do. Now he would do the same for her. She saved him, he would save her. She would give him something to live for. He crawled back in bed and pulled her sleeping form close. He buried his face in her hair. This was how her hair always smelled. He drifted to sleep, knowing that maybe it would be okay.
She looked liked Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.
He fed her breakfast in bed the next morning and told her everything. She looked at him like he was half crazy. He thought she probably was figuring him for a Howard Hughes type. Rich and crazy. She went along with it, but he knew that it was only because she thought she would get her hands on the millions that he didn’t have. If he could just keep her here though, he could show her. He could get her memories back. And if he couldn’t, then he would just make her into what he needed.
She looked like Cordelia, and that was all that mattered.