ficpost: "Rules Girl" Eve + Connor
Title: "Rules Girl"
Fandom: Angel
Characters: Eve, Connor
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Spoilers: "Not Fade Away"
Warnings: Implication of not-technically-canonical death, mention of canon deaths.
Disclaimer: Joss's, not mine.
Notes: For _elektra in the We Will Not Fade Away ficathon.
Summary: Eve and Connor meet on the steps of Wolfram + Hart.
Words: 944 [it came in just a tad short; sorry Ambs!]
Rules Girl
Eve had stock in Wolfram and Hart. Her life was invested in Wolfram and Hart. Her life, her identity, her love. Lindsey was insane to try to go against them. Angel was even crazier. But regardless of how nuts her lovers were, everything is in tatters now, and there's no use assigning blame. It's just plain over. Even when they rebuild, recreate, redo, start over - because this is just a temporary setback (step one: report immediately to your assigned emergency rendezvous location) -- she's out (step two: receive a clean bill of psychic health and company loyalty from the nearest mind-reader). Her stock has bottomed out, and there's no question of getting out while there's still time.
She's out. It's over. Daddy has disowned her.
"I'm an orphan," she says, letting the irony (lesson seventeen: irony. The lilt of the voice, the tilt of the head, the impression you must always give that nothing you say is serious or true) seep under her tongue, enjoying the flavor of despair. Not usual that she's eating it from the inside.
"I guess I am too, huh?"
She recognizes the kid, sort of. His dad's eyes. His mom's nose. "Connor?" she asks, eyebrow raised. "Is it really you? Be still, my heart."
"I could arrange that," he says, and she remembers that yes, he really is Angel's son. "But I'm not going to." In some ways, though, he's not. It can't be helped.
"Think it's over yet?"
"The part where my parents kill yours?"
"He's -- " And Connor stops.
"Dead," Eve supplies.
"He was always dead."
"You must hate him." She wants them to be clear on this. There will be no affection for Angel on this doorstep.
"Not really." He shrugs. "It's mostly all confused... for a long time, I thought he killed my father. I mean, Holtz. Now I know -- he tried to be good to me. Sometimes even succeeded."
"Mine never tried."
"Your...?"
"Father," she said. "Mother. Parent. Creator. Whatever you want to call Them. Never tried very hard to make me think I was normal."
"You're not normal?"
"Do I look normal?" (Lesson twenty-seven, the rhetorical question.)
"Yes, actually."
"Well, I'm not."
"Are you mortal?" He asks it like someone who knows what it means to look at death.
"Now that would be telling." She almost winks, then remembers -- she's hard to get.
"Did he care about her?"
"Who?"
"His girlfriend, the wolf. Nina."
"Oh, I'm sure he did." She tries to sound lascivious, but thinks it comes out insipid.
"He cared about my mother," Connor tells her -- or maybe he's talking to himself. She has to watch him carefully to figure out his moods. He's a difficult human to understand, like Angel was. Angel was only transparent when he wanted to be.
She snorts. "Right."
"Really. I, um -- I had a girlfriend, a couple of them. No one serious. I'm trying to figure it all out -- I think -- I think before, when I was Stephen, and then when I was with Cordy -- I understood love too well. And now I don't understand it at all."
No way she's touching that. She has to wait till her heart slows back to normal, till she can stop thinking about Lindsey and the fact that he didn't report in -- the fact that he's so fucking dead it's just not possible for her to -- right. The kid. Love. "Love's tough." She hopes her voice has the right combination of maternity and I-don't-give-a-fuck. (Lesson ninety: sympathy. Never offer too little, never reveal too much. Be distant and caring. Never make him think you really care.)
"I think if it hadn't been for him, it would be easier for me."
"If it hadn't been for Angel?" She laughs. (It would have been easier for her too, but that's neither here nor there.) "You really do think he ruined everything."
"Didn't he?"
"That's one interpretation." She smirks. "I wouldn't give him that much credit."
"What?"
"Your dad was a bit player in a huge battle, kid. I'm infinitely more important than you are because I touched Them, and I'm just a bit player, too. You killed the guy you were destined to kill, fulfilled your prophecies. You're done, Connor."
"You're done too."
Where did he get that insight?
"I have resources at my disposal."
"Really?"
"No." (Lesson number thirty-five: sudden honesty to unnerve the opponent. Opponent, noun. Definition: everyone else.)
"I could," he pauses. "I could help you out."
She laughs. "Right. That would be rich, wouldn't it?"
"You could stay in my dorm until you get a place of your own."
"That idea isn't actually as appealing as it sounds to you."
"Why?" The kid is genuinely confused.
"College," she tells him. "The realm of the unwashed, unambitious, and uncouth. I'd miss home."
"Home?" She's suddenly silent. "It's okay," he tells her. "Sometimes I think of Quortoth as my home, too."
"You don't understand."
He shrugs. "I guess not, but, um, the door's always open."
He got that from his dad, Eve thinks, and in the middle of her grief for Lindsey, she feels a sharp sting of pain -- Angel. With Angel gone, her usefulness to the Senior Partners is finished, and with Lindsey gone, she's out of backup plans. (Lesson the first: always have a backup plan. Lesson the second: always have a backup backup plan. Recurse.)
"I think I'll take you up on that offer, actually. Are you any good at casting hiding spells?"
He frowns, then laughs, and reaches for her hand. "We'll take care of you," he tells her. "That's what champions do."
Fandom: Angel
Characters: Eve, Connor
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Spoilers: "Not Fade Away"
Warnings: Implication of not-technically-canonical death, mention of canon deaths.
Disclaimer: Joss's, not mine.
Notes: For _elektra in the We Will Not Fade Away ficathon.
Summary: Eve and Connor meet on the steps of Wolfram + Hart.
Words: 944 [it came in just a tad short; sorry Ambs!]
Rules Girl
Eve had stock in Wolfram and Hart. Her life was invested in Wolfram and Hart. Her life, her identity, her love. Lindsey was insane to try to go against them. Angel was even crazier. But regardless of how nuts her lovers were, everything is in tatters now, and there's no use assigning blame. It's just plain over. Even when they rebuild, recreate, redo, start over - because this is just a temporary setback (step one: report immediately to your assigned emergency rendezvous location) -- she's out (step two: receive a clean bill of psychic health and company loyalty from the nearest mind-reader). Her stock has bottomed out, and there's no question of getting out while there's still time.
She's out. It's over. Daddy has disowned her.
"I'm an orphan," she says, letting the irony (lesson seventeen: irony. The lilt of the voice, the tilt of the head, the impression you must always give that nothing you say is serious or true) seep under her tongue, enjoying the flavor of despair. Not usual that she's eating it from the inside.
"I guess I am too, huh?"
She recognizes the kid, sort of. His dad's eyes. His mom's nose. "Connor?" she asks, eyebrow raised. "Is it really you? Be still, my heart."
"I could arrange that," he says, and she remembers that yes, he really is Angel's son. "But I'm not going to." In some ways, though, he's not. It can't be helped.
"Think it's over yet?"
"The part where my parents kill yours?"
"He's -- " And Connor stops.
"Dead," Eve supplies.
"He was always dead."
"You must hate him." She wants them to be clear on this. There will be no affection for Angel on this doorstep.
"Not really." He shrugs. "It's mostly all confused... for a long time, I thought he killed my father. I mean, Holtz. Now I know -- he tried to be good to me. Sometimes even succeeded."
"Mine never tried."
"Your...?"
"Father," she said. "Mother. Parent. Creator. Whatever you want to call Them. Never tried very hard to make me think I was normal."
"You're not normal?"
"Do I look normal?" (Lesson twenty-seven, the rhetorical question.)
"Yes, actually."
"Well, I'm not."
"Are you mortal?" He asks it like someone who knows what it means to look at death.
"Now that would be telling." She almost winks, then remembers -- she's hard to get.
"Did he care about her?"
"Who?"
"His girlfriend, the wolf. Nina."
"Oh, I'm sure he did." She tries to sound lascivious, but thinks it comes out insipid.
"He cared about my mother," Connor tells her -- or maybe he's talking to himself. She has to watch him carefully to figure out his moods. He's a difficult human to understand, like Angel was. Angel was only transparent when he wanted to be.
She snorts. "Right."
"Really. I, um -- I had a girlfriend, a couple of them. No one serious. I'm trying to figure it all out -- I think -- I think before, when I was Stephen, and then when I was with Cordy -- I understood love too well. And now I don't understand it at all."
No way she's touching that. She has to wait till her heart slows back to normal, till she can stop thinking about Lindsey and the fact that he didn't report in -- the fact that he's so fucking dead it's just not possible for her to -- right. The kid. Love. "Love's tough." She hopes her voice has the right combination of maternity and I-don't-give-a-fuck. (Lesson ninety: sympathy. Never offer too little, never reveal too much. Be distant and caring. Never make him think you really care.)
"I think if it hadn't been for him, it would be easier for me."
"If it hadn't been for Angel?" She laughs. (It would have been easier for her too, but that's neither here nor there.) "You really do think he ruined everything."
"Didn't he?"
"That's one interpretation." She smirks. "I wouldn't give him that much credit."
"What?"
"Your dad was a bit player in a huge battle, kid. I'm infinitely more important than you are because I touched Them, and I'm just a bit player, too. You killed the guy you were destined to kill, fulfilled your prophecies. You're done, Connor."
"You're done too."
Where did he get that insight?
"I have resources at my disposal."
"Really?"
"No." (Lesson number thirty-five: sudden honesty to unnerve the opponent. Opponent, noun. Definition: everyone else.)
"I could," he pauses. "I could help you out."
She laughs. "Right. That would be rich, wouldn't it?"
"You could stay in my dorm until you get a place of your own."
"That idea isn't actually as appealing as it sounds to you."
"Why?" The kid is genuinely confused.
"College," she tells him. "The realm of the unwashed, unambitious, and uncouth. I'd miss home."
"Home?" She's suddenly silent. "It's okay," he tells her. "Sometimes I think of Quortoth as my home, too."
"You don't understand."
He shrugs. "I guess not, but, um, the door's always open."
He got that from his dad, Eve thinks, and in the middle of her grief for Lindsey, she feels a sharp sting of pain -- Angel. With Angel gone, her usefulness to the Senior Partners is finished, and with Lindsey gone, she's out of backup plans. (Lesson the first: always have a backup plan. Lesson the second: always have a backup backup plan. Recurse.)
"I think I'll take you up on that offer, actually. Are you any good at casting hiding spells?"
He frowns, then laughs, and reaches for her hand. "We'll take care of you," he tells her. "That's what champions do."