Ficlet sized
Title: Moving On
Author: Samsom
Summary: Cordelia thinks about what she has to offer, post firing. Set right after Reunion.
Dislcaimer and Notes: Not mine. Written for the catch-up. Thanks to Debbie, as always. :D
~~
She slammed the door shut behind her and slumped, dropping her box of junk on the floor.
He. Fired. Her.
She shook her head, unable to get the words to make sense.
She worked her butt off building that agency. Literally. Painting and rearranging, dusting.
She, Cordelia Chase, had dusted.
It might be his name on the bills, but she was that agency.
For God’s sake, who advertised when Tall, Dark and Brooding sat moping in the basement? Who designed and ordered the business cards while he read Voltaire to imaginary dead people? Who tailed delinquent clients for payment in full while he stayed up in his bed and dreamt about dead sires?
“I did!” she yelled out in the silence of her apartment. A puff of air brushed her chin as Dennis silently questioned her outburst. “He fired us, Dennis.” she told him in a quieter voice. “Fired us like we were just…employees.”
A sharp burst of pain lanced through her solar plexus, feeling almost like a spear through her body, and she swallowed against the hurt, feeling hallowed out.
“What do I do now?” she asked softly, knowing Dennis couldn't give her any answers.
~~
The lights blinded her and for a second she froze, unsure.
What was she doing?
What was she going to prove setting herself up like this? That she was fine without him? That she could do it on her own?
She already knew she could do it on her own.
She moved to LA on her own, she contracted and paid for her own portfolio pictures without help from anyone. Found her own apartment, bought her own food.
She survived without Angel for months, dodging dark alleys and fashion-impaired vamps running around with a Kiefer Sutherland mullet, before Russell Winters found her…
So what if Angel fired her? That didn’t mean she’d crawl off and lick her wounds, did it? Feel sorry for herself because the best thing she had going for her was a borderline-psychotic vampire with a ‘bite or avoid’ habit he couldn’t control?
Right?
She was Cordelia Chase. That meant she was going to be fine.
The rumble started at the same time the music did. The lights lowered, revealing a sea of human and demon faces, smiling, waiting for her as they tapped their feet to the rhythm of the guitar.
She paused for just a second, and then grinned, looking up at the lights, and brought the microphone to her mouth.
”Any man of mine better be proud of me,
- even when I’m ugly, he still better love me…
Oh yeah, all she needed was a little karaoke girl power, and things were already better.
She shimmied and strutted and sang.
The crowd roared for more.
~end~
Author: Samsom
Summary: Cordelia thinks about what she has to offer, post firing. Set right after Reunion.
Dislcaimer and Notes: Not mine. Written for the catch-up. Thanks to Debbie, as always. :D
~~
She slammed the door shut behind her and slumped, dropping her box of junk on the floor.
He. Fired. Her.
She shook her head, unable to get the words to make sense.
She worked her butt off building that agency. Literally. Painting and rearranging, dusting.
She, Cordelia Chase, had dusted.
It might be his name on the bills, but she was that agency.
For God’s sake, who advertised when Tall, Dark and Brooding sat moping in the basement? Who designed and ordered the business cards while he read Voltaire to imaginary dead people? Who tailed delinquent clients for payment in full while he stayed up in his bed and dreamt about dead sires?
“I did!” she yelled out in the silence of her apartment. A puff of air brushed her chin as Dennis silently questioned her outburst. “He fired us, Dennis.” she told him in a quieter voice. “Fired us like we were just…employees.”
A sharp burst of pain lanced through her solar plexus, feeling almost like a spear through her body, and she swallowed against the hurt, feeling hallowed out.
“What do I do now?” she asked softly, knowing Dennis couldn't give her any answers.
~~
The lights blinded her and for a second she froze, unsure.
What was she doing?
What was she going to prove setting herself up like this? That she was fine without him? That she could do it on her own?
She already knew she could do it on her own.
She moved to LA on her own, she contracted and paid for her own portfolio pictures without help from anyone. Found her own apartment, bought her own food.
She survived without Angel for months, dodging dark alleys and fashion-impaired vamps running around with a Kiefer Sutherland mullet, before Russell Winters found her…
So what if Angel fired her? That didn’t mean she’d crawl off and lick her wounds, did it? Feel sorry for herself because the best thing she had going for her was a borderline-psychotic vampire with a ‘bite or avoid’ habit he couldn’t control?
Right?
She was Cordelia Chase. That meant she was going to be fine.
The rumble started at the same time the music did. The lights lowered, revealing a sea of human and demon faces, smiling, waiting for her as they tapped their feet to the rhythm of the guitar.
She paused for just a second, and then grinned, looking up at the lights, and brought the microphone to her mouth.
”Any man of mine better be proud of me,
- even when I’m ugly, he still better love me…
Oh yeah, all she needed was a little karaoke girl power, and things were already better.
She shimmied and strutted and sang.
The crowd roared for more.
~end~