Going home, wherever that is now
After this
Cordelia stormed through the airport, her sight set on one thing: getting on that plane and out of New York as fast as possible. Everything had gone so wrong today, and she just wanted to go home. Only problem is, her home held too many painful memories and reminders. Which meant she'd be going back to her temporary home, with Kara and Angel. And as much as she loved Kara, she could already hear the "I told you so"s, and really wasn't sure she was ready to deal wtih those just yet.
Today was the first time she had really talked about her baby, about Christine. It tore her apart just to say her name out loud, and to see Orlando just as shattered by it had been harder than she'd ever imagined. And then to go right from that to discussing his new lover, boyfriend, whatever he was.... well, it was more than she could take. More than anyone could take, she was sure. She'd had to get out of there. She couldn't look at him anymore, not without seeing those pictures of him and that guy flashing through her mind every time. She'd been afraid that she would start crying any minute, and there was no way she was going to let herself do that in front of him. No way she would give him that power over her. She would cry later, when she was alone, but for now, she was going to be strong. She had to be.
She'd thought it had been hard to see Xander and Willow together, but she'd give just about anything for a nice jagged bit of rebar through the torso right now.
Unfortunately for Cordelia, instead of rebar, she got a flock of paparazzi that seemed to melt from the very walls around her with no warning. One minute she was stomping her way towards the terminal and the next there were flashes everywhere and people shouting her name. Their voices all overlapped, a cacophany of excited questions being lobbed at her rapid-fire from every direction. For a moment, all she could do was stand and blink.
Once she regained her senses, she pushed away from them with a glare. "No comment!"
"Cordelia! Wait, Cordelia! Can you just tell us what happened? Everyone thought you were dead! There was footage on the news of a car crash...?"
Normally, she would have ignored them and kept going, but the anger she'd been holding onto saw a convenient outlet and broke free before she could really think about what she was doing. So she spun on her heel and sent them all a wicked sort of smile that had flashbulbs blinding her all over again.
"You know what they say, don't believe everything you see on TV."
Another barrage of questions followed, louder than the last now that she'd paid them the attention they'd been seeking. She couldn't make out many, but managed to catch one that sounded something like "What about the baby?"
Her eyes hardened and she turned to glare in the direction of the questioner despite the single tear that slid traitorously down her cheek. "My baby is none of your damn business. And neither is my life."
"Have you seen Orlando yet?" andother reporter asked, edging boldly through the crowd, a microphone extended towards her. How the hell had they all known she would be here? She hadn't even known until about an hour ago!
"That's right, I almost forgot. None of you really give a damn about me, do you? Well, if you're looking for dirt on him, you're sniffing around the wrong person. Haven't you heard? I'm old news. You want the real dirt?" There was a newstatnd just behind her, so she reached back and grabbed another tabloid, this one with a picture of Orlando and Will on the cover. How she'd missed it the first time around, she didn't know. Maybe it had been sold out in Boston. "Here," she said, thrusting it at the eager journalist. "You want someone to stalk, go find his new boyofriend. But leave me the hell alone."
Annoyed with herself for letting them get to her, she pushed away from the crowd and practically sprinted the last few feet to the sign that bore her salvation: Ticketed Passengers Only Beyond This Point. Once through, she tossed her purse onto the x-ray conveyer and stepped through the metal detector. The din of clicking cameras and shouted questions were still following her, but at a safe distance now, so she turned once more and gave them all a little wave... and then the finger.
She really hated paparazzi.
Cordelia stormed through the airport, her sight set on one thing: getting on that plane and out of New York as fast as possible. Everything had gone so wrong today, and she just wanted to go home. Only problem is, her home held too many painful memories and reminders. Which meant she'd be going back to her temporary home, with Kara and Angel. And as much as she loved Kara, she could already hear the "I told you so"s, and really wasn't sure she was ready to deal wtih those just yet.
Today was the first time she had really talked about her baby, about Christine. It tore her apart just to say her name out loud, and to see Orlando just as shattered by it had been harder than she'd ever imagined. And then to go right from that to discussing his new lover, boyfriend, whatever he was.... well, it was more than she could take. More than anyone could take, she was sure. She'd had to get out of there. She couldn't look at him anymore, not without seeing those pictures of him and that guy flashing through her mind every time. She'd been afraid that she would start crying any minute, and there was no way she was going to let herself do that in front of him. No way she would give him that power over her. She would cry later, when she was alone, but for now, she was going to be strong. She had to be.
She'd thought it had been hard to see Xander and Willow together, but she'd give just about anything for a nice jagged bit of rebar through the torso right now.
Unfortunately for Cordelia, instead of rebar, she got a flock of paparazzi that seemed to melt from the very walls around her with no warning. One minute she was stomping her way towards the terminal and the next there were flashes everywhere and people shouting her name. Their voices all overlapped, a cacophany of excited questions being lobbed at her rapid-fire from every direction. For a moment, all she could do was stand and blink.
Once she regained her senses, she pushed away from them with a glare. "No comment!"
"Cordelia! Wait, Cordelia! Can you just tell us what happened? Everyone thought you were dead! There was footage on the news of a car crash...?"
Normally, she would have ignored them and kept going, but the anger she'd been holding onto saw a convenient outlet and broke free before she could really think about what she was doing. So she spun on her heel and sent them all a wicked sort of smile that had flashbulbs blinding her all over again.
"You know what they say, don't believe everything you see on TV."
Another barrage of questions followed, louder than the last now that she'd paid them the attention they'd been seeking. She couldn't make out many, but managed to catch one that sounded something like "What about the baby?"
Her eyes hardened and she turned to glare in the direction of the questioner despite the single tear that slid traitorously down her cheek. "My baby is none of your damn business. And neither is my life."
"Have you seen Orlando yet?" andother reporter asked, edging boldly through the crowd, a microphone extended towards her. How the hell had they all known she would be here? She hadn't even known until about an hour ago!
"That's right, I almost forgot. None of you really give a damn about me, do you? Well, if you're looking for dirt on him, you're sniffing around the wrong person. Haven't you heard? I'm old news. You want the real dirt?" There was a newstatnd just behind her, so she reached back and grabbed another tabloid, this one with a picture of Orlando and Will on the cover. How she'd missed it the first time around, she didn't know. Maybe it had been sold out in Boston. "Here," she said, thrusting it at the eager journalist. "You want someone to stalk, go find his new boyofriend. But leave me the hell alone."
Annoyed with herself for letting them get to her, she pushed away from the crowd and practically sprinted the last few feet to the sign that bore her salvation: Ticketed Passengers Only Beyond This Point. Once through, she tossed her purse onto the x-ray conveyer and stepped through the metal detector. The din of clicking cameras and shouted questions were still following her, but at a safe distance now, so she turned once more and gave them all a little wave... and then the finger.
She really hated paparazzi.