Title: Today
Author: Alex Dollard
Posted: 01-07-2003
Rating: PG
Email: prague_spring@hotmail.com
Content:
Summary: Fred clears out Cordy's apartment and notices something strange.
Spoilers:
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution:
Notes: This is not a happy fic.
Feedback:
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
This was almost the first thing that Fred noticed when she went into Cordelia's bedroom. It had been Gunn's idea to clear Cordy's apartment, once it became clear that she wasn't coming back. Angel had resisted tremendously, but in the end, he'd given in. He seemed to have shrunk since they pulled him - with Lilah Morgan's help - from the ocean. Like clothes that shrink when they get washed, Fred thought, like Angel's soul was damaged by immersion in sea water.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
She had a fabulous view across LA, Fred thought enviously. The whole of the City of Angels was laid out like a feast to the hungry eye. Busy as an anthill during the day, and bright as a whole star constellation at night. The city that never sleeps, but wasn't that supposed to be New York? It suited LA better. It was almost like all the people and all the demons were part of one huge, enormous heartbeat which thumped twice a day. Almost like a shift changing over. The day people stayed in and the night people came out. Like a factory. She liked that metaphor. It was clean and tidy and she could trust it not to change and become something different and confusing.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
The rest of the room was spotlessly clean; almost sparkling which made that odd dusty pile so confusing. Perhaps Dennis brushed all the dust together onto Cordy's sheets before she washed them. Fred sighed, she could almost imagine Cordy standing behind her. The scent of her perfume was high in the air, and the mirror was filled with her reflections.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
She set about clearing Cordy's things, carefully packing away cosmetics, perfumes, the accoutrements of womanhood. Above the nestled jars on her dressing table, there were a selection of photographs, and Fred found more when she opened one of the drawers. Her face broke into a delighted smile when she saw the younger Cordelia. There were several groups shots of Cordelia with other cheerleaders, and infront of various teams and the odd one with three or four other teenagers that Fred assumed must be her school friends. A little blond girl, a shy looking red head, a guitar holding young man and another young man, taller with dark hair. There were several with this young man; just he and Cordy and for a moment, Fred thought it was Angel. Only for a moment, but there was a faint resemblance. She was a little surprised that there were no pictures of her mother, and only one picture of Cordelia and her father. Or, at least, Fred assumed it was her father. A tall, handsome, older man with glasses who looked a little uncomfortable with the beaming Cordelia. A couple with Wes - one obviously a prom picture - and several with Angel and Wes. Lots of Angel. Fred gaped when she saw them. She couldn't ever recall seeing Angel pose for photos, but Cordelia had evidently been snapping on the sly. She spread them out. Angel reading, feet propped up on a desk she didn't know in an office she didn't recognise. Angel arguing with another man, smaller and in the kind of retro ensemble that Lorne would be proud of. Angel making coffee. Angel glowering at the holder of the camera. Angel having evidently backed his car into a lamp post. Angel vamped out and making stabbing gestures behind Wesley's back. One of the pictures, however, obviously hadn't been taken by Cordy. They were lying on a bed - on this bed, Fred realised - Cordelia cradled against Angel, both of them fast asleep. They looked exhausted, and there were dark shadows under Cordelia's eyes. And yet, for all that, there was an unyielding tenderness in the way they held each other, even in sleep, their hold had not slacked. She smiled, a little sadly, and turned the photograph over. A hand she vaguely recognised had written 'A and C, 2000'.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
She was going to need more cardboard boxes, Fred could tell straight away. They were still undecided about what to do with Cordelia's things. Angel had suggested storing them at the hotel but Gunn was sorta against that idea. He had mentioned, privately, that Angel would just obsess over Cordelia's things, working himself up into doing something stupid and reckless. Fred's heart hurt for him. He'd lost so much this year. And it had been even crueller because at one point he'd very nearly had it all. He'd had baby Connor and Cordelia and his friends all around him and he didn't need to feel guilty over that dead girl because she wasn't dead anymore. But now...
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
... Now he had nothing. He'd got Connor back, kinda, only to lose him all over again. And he'd lost Cordelia when Groo arrived, but he got her back when Lorne told him that she was in love with him. But he never got to hear her say that. And Lorne had gone, and Wes too, for all intents and purposes. And they were indebted to Wolfram and Hart for rescuing him in the first place. Fred was afraid of how Lilah would collect for that debt.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
Three months and no sign of a seer to replace Cordy. Fred dropped heavily onto the dressing table stool. You couldn't replace her. She was. She just was. It was moira and kyerumption and there was no way that Angel was going to get over this. Except. Except that she remembered he got over that other girl he was in love with. Maybe this was different. They all missed her. Cordelia's signature fragrance rose from the pretty silky dress Fred held in her hands. The creamy fabric was sprinkled with flecks of glitter; like tears on skin.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open and now Fred was wondering about this. The apartment was curiously absent. It felt strangely empty, as if something that had lived here had gone forever, which was stupid because of course that had happened. It just felt. More.
"Hey," Gunn stood in the doorway, his dark eyes warm with affection. She sighed with relief when she saw him. The warmth of his uncomplicated love for her settling over her like a shield, protecting her from the curiously... haunted sensation she felt.
"Hey," she replied, summoning up a smile, "I haven't got much done," she apologised.
He shrugged, "We got time. We ain't in a rush. This is hard on all of us," he added.
"Charles," she said, because she had to say his name in case the eerie silence which was soaking over the apartment sucked him up. "Charles. Have you seen Dennis? I mean," she hurried on. "Has he, you know, moved stuff or written a note or... or anything?"
Gunn frowned, "No," he said slowly.
Fred nodded, "Charles," she said, because she had to know.
"Want to know what I saw when I checked the back?" Gunn said, his voice unreadable as he interrupted.
She shook her head, "What?"
"Angel's car parked out back."
Fred felt like she'd been doused in icy cold water, as if liquid nitrogen suddenly flowed through her veins instead of warm human blood, as if a shadow passed over the blazing hot sun.
"But he isn't here," she whispered.
"Not now," Gunn said, still in that curiously colourless tone.
Fred looked at him and she knew what he was thinking and it was too awful, too terrible to even contemplate. Her mind skittered away from it and she wanted him to stop standing like a statue in the doorway of Cordelia's bedroom and why was it that she'd only been here when Cordy was ill or... or worse? He was so far away and she couldn't reach out to him because she couldn't move because moving made it real.
"Guess he got here before us," Gunn said, nodding towards the bed.
There was dust on the bed, and the curtains were wide open.
End.