Title: All That She Can’t Leave Behind
Author: Jenna
Spoilers: Up to “Dad,” and speculation for “Birthday.”
Rating: R, for language.
Disclaimer: I worship at the temple that is Joss. He owns all; I own nada. I borrowed the title from U2’s fabulous CD – I also don’t own any of the songs used.
Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at an Angel fic, and to be honest, I’m not sure why I’m even writing this. But Angel and Cordy somehow managed to get in my head and set up shop, so in the hopes of finally exorcising them, I decided to put this on paper. Whether I should have bothered sharing is still up for debate. I started it a while ago, based on the speculation I was hearing about “Birthday” – that she would either have five years to live, or she would lose her memory of her time with Angel. There was no doubt in my mind that Cordy would keep the visions, but I started wondering what she would do in the aftermath. And that’s where my universe and Joss’ diverge.
Feedback: would be greatly appreciated and very helpful.

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Prologue

October 2002

I probably would’ve thought it ironic, if I’d the taken the time to really think about it.

And it is, in a kinda twisted sort of way that only the Powers would think is amusing, but really isn’t. The only thing that could comfort me in the vision-induced, pain-filled haze was his touch. And the only thing that could replace the healing of his cool touch was the warmth of his son’s tiny body in my arms.

Connor. The beautiful little boy I love with all my heart and soul. The child I hold in those silent minutes when I wait and I worry, desperately hoping that this time won’t be the last time I ever see any of their faces. The baby I’ve accepted as my own with every fibre of my being – the only son I’ll ever have.

I probably would’ve found it darkly amusing, if I’d taken the time to think about it at the time.

And I guess it was – for the Powers, at least. The child and the man I suffer for are the only two beings on the whole damn planet that could bring me peace.

But I haven’t thought about it, not really. Time is a precious commodity now, and I’m not about to waste it on meaningless things like pondering the ironies of my life. There are far too many ironies and far too few minutes left.

And thinking about it would mean I had to face what was happening. I haven’t really been able to do that, until now – no matter how much I told myself I was facing reality over the last few months.

No, I’d much rather spend my time with them, my family, making memories. Making the moments count. Because I’m the only one that knows there aren’t many more moments left.

Five years. That’s what I’d been told, what they’d promised, when I had to make the choice. Five years to live with them before it all ended, or a lifetime filled with the shallow existence I’d known before. The choice, as complicated as it was, was an easy one. Because I made a promise, one I intended to keep, one that I could keep if I agreed to die for them. Because I’d rather have five years with them than a lifetime without them, without him. Because I’d give up my life for them in a heartbeat.

Because I love him.

And at first, it seemed like forever, a gift that would last an eternity. I’m still only twenty-one, no matter how much I’ve seen and done in the last few years. And maybe it was silly and naïve, but I didn’t think about the future, beyond the next audition and making sure the bills were all paid on time. Because it hurt too much when I thought about the future. It hurt too much to think that maybe, someday, my dreams with him could come true…or that maybe they wouldn’t. That maybe, when my dreams finally came true, he wouldn’t share them, and he’d go back to her and leave me behind. So for five years of real happiness with my little family, I willingly threw away a lifetime filled with the aching loneliness and emptiness that haunted my first eighteen years.

Then, later, when I looked into Connor’s dark eyes, so much like the eyes I love so much, I realized just how short a time it really was. I wouldn’t get to see him go to a prom, graduate high school, go to college, get married. But I convinced myself that seeing him go to kindergarten would be enough.

Now, I know the truth. They lied. I’ll be lucky if I last the next few weeks to see him celebrate his first birthday. They lied.

Little shimmery bastards.

Five years. What a load of bull. Five years became only nine damn months. It wasn’t nearly enough time – we would never have enough time, not even if we shared five lifetimes, I know that now – but I don’t regret it, and I wouldn’t change anything. Not ever. Because these last ten months were the happiest, and the saddest, of my entire life.

And now it’s nearly over.

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Part 1

January 2002

I think knowing is the worst part about it. I’ve suspected the truth for a while – those long nights when my head ached and I felt like I’d gotten the chance to reacquaint myself with everything I’d eaten since the last vision and I couldn’t stop the shaking and I cried and wished it would all just stop, just for a little while, I couldn’t help but admit the truth to myself. I’m not stupid; I know my body’s falling apart at the seams, and the CAT scans I get once a month confirm it, even if no one else knows. But I always figured something would save me, that Angel would do what he’s done every other time I’ve been hurt or in pain. That’s not going to happen, though. Hearing the words – from the Powers, of all people – forced me to stop ignoring it. Knowing that I was actually going to die, that I’d really have to leave them one day soon, hurt so much that it nearly brought me to my knees.

Those first few foggy seconds…I opened my eyes, and I saw Angel’s face. I was in his bed, with Connor in his cradle next to us, my family watching over me. And for those first few seconds, when I stared into his chocolate brown eyes, I felt at peace. Finally.

Then it all came crashing back, and I remembered. And it took every ounce of strength I had not to let them see.

Guess I’m not the bad of an actress, after all.

My guardian Angel. We’ve fought and done battle, with the demons I see in my visions and with each other. He’s pushed me away and I’ve pulled away from him, but we’ve always found our way back to each other. He’s saved me, in every way possible…and I like to think I’ve done the same for him.

But he can’t save me from this.

I’m scared. Is that so wrong? I’m going to die. I chose to die. I practically begged the Powers That Be to draw a big, red X on my forehead and use me for target practice. I’m living on borrowed time, and I’m going to have to leave everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve ever loved. And I’ve never been so scared in my life.

But it’s something I have to do, even if no one else will understand my choice. And they won’t – especially not Angel. That’s why they won’t know, until it’s too late to do anything about it. They’d just try to change my mind…they wouldn’t understand that there’s really no choice. Give up the visions and have the dream life I always thought I wanted and be miserable, or die for the greater good. Sounds pretty obvious to me.

Like I said, I’m not stupid. I knew what I was doing when I made the deal. But I’d do it again. I made it on my terms, and if my father never taught me anything else, he taught me how to make a deal. He taught me how to cut my losses and bargain for what I wanted. And that’s just what I did. Hell, I’d make a deal with the devil himself if he offered me what I wanted, what I needed. And the Powers caved. Guess all that fighting with Angel was worth something in the end, huh?

I gave them my life. My soul. My heart. And in return…they gave me the greatest gift of all.

They promised me my death would mean something. A sacrifice of one life for two. Seemed like more than a fair trade to me. My life for Connor’s and Angel’s lives. I promised him I’d be with him until he Shanshued…I just didn’t know then that it would be my death that would give him his life back. The Powers agreed to do it. And Connor – they promised me he’d be safe. They promised me he’d grow up a normal little boy, loved and happy…what better gift could I give him? In my heart, I’m his mother…and I won’t give him anything less than Darla did.

When I opened my eyes, I just stared at Angel. He was holding me, squeezing me so tightly that I could barely breathe, whispering to me in this fiercely loving voice he has that I was never aloud to scare him like that again. The others were talking excitedly, but all I could see was his face and all I could hear were the words he didn’t have to say. He begged me to stay the night, and it took all my tears and a lot of begging to get him to agree to let me go.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to fall asleep with his arms around me, listening to the soft sounds of his sleeping son. I wanted him to make me forget about what happened and what was going to happen. I wanted him to save me. But he couldn’t save me, and I couldn’t stay with him. If I stayed there even a minute longer, I would have told him everything. And if I stayed…I don’t think I’d be strong enough to leave him again.

I managed to make it to the relative safety of my apartment before I broke down entirely. Gunn dropped me off, and I made Angel promise to leave me alone, for tonight at least, made him promise not to hover…I needed one night. One night to myself, to mourn what I would never have. Alone. From the minute I knew my death was an actuality and not a relative concept, some hazy future event that would eventually happen when I was ninety years old and surrounded by children and grandchildren and maybe an Oscar or two, I promised myself that I would deal with it by myself. Because I refuse to spend what time I have left searching for a non-existent cure, knowing the people I love are suffering, watching them cry for me before I was even dead. I don’t want to remember them sad and furious at the world, and I don’t want to be remembered that way, either.

Buffy made him cry. Little Miss likes-to-fight made my Broody Boy spend hours sitting in the dark, punishing himself for everything from the sinking of the Titanic to the melting of the polar ice caps.

I won’t do that to him. It’s not his fault, and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt like that. When it’s time, I’ll leave him with a smile on my face and a promise on my lips. I’ll promise him that I’ll love him and Connor forever. And I will.

So I put on a brave face and smiled for them, even when all I wanted to do was throw myself in their arms and beg them to make it okay for me. But Cordelia Chase isn’t about to go out with anything less than a bang. I’ll keep smiling for them as long as I have left. And then I came home to cry.

I clutched the photo to my chest as I cried, great gut-wrenching sobs that left me gasping for breath and shaking from the strain. I could feel Dennis’ anxiety swirling frantically through the air around me, and I wished I could be strong for him, too, but I can’t. I just can’t. I need someone, and he’s all I have. And maybe he’ll understand when I tell him the truth tomorrow morning.

He keeps bringing me things – water, Tylenol, tissues, ice cream, all the usual things I needed after a vision. I just smile and thank him softly. He’s trying to help, because he doesn’t know yet what’s wrong. He doesn’t know that nothing can help me now.

Finally, the sobs became sniffles, as I grew too damn weary to even cry properly anymore. That’s when I look at the photo.

They were all there, all of my family, sitting around the sofa at my apartment. Dennis had taken it only a few weeks ago at Christmas, but it seemed so long ago. The Cordelia that smiled out at me seemed so young, so innocent, so naïve, and I had to bite back a bitter laugh. What I wouldn’t give to be even that innocent again. Amazing how a few weeks can change a life forever.

Angel’s sitting next to me in the picture, and we’d leaned towards each other almost unconsciously, until my hair was brushing his cheek and the coolness of his skin made little butterflies flutter in my stomach. For once, he wasn’t wearing his trademark black; instead, his shirt was a dark crimson, one I’d bought him a few weeks before. A sleeping Conner was cradled in his arms, a miniature Santa hat perched lopsided on his tiny head. He’d fought against that one, saying it was silly – I’d only won out after an entire hour of pleading and arguing, but we both knew it was only a matter of time before he gave into me. He always does, and he knows it. But Angel, for once, wasn’t gazing at his son in awe and wonder. This time, he was staring at me that way, and it still gave me the same tingles now that it had the first time I saw the burning passion in his eyes that Christmas night.

Lorne was on the sofa next to me, his brilliant purple suit clashing with his green skin, yet looking so flamboyant and so unusual and so very Lorne that it worked for him. He was humming a Christmas carol when the photo was taken, and I remember giggling when Angel had grumbled that everyone had made him stop when he’d tried singing earlier, and Gunn had muttered something that sounded suspiciously like thank god and Angel had growled at him before I swatted his arm and told him to smile for the camera.

Gunn was perched on the arm of the sofa next to Angel, and he grinned out at me, almost shyly, and I ran my finger over his face and sighed softly. He’d pulled me aside later, just before he left, to thank me for inviting him. Last year, no one at Angel Investigations had felt much like celebrating, so Christmas had passed quietly. But this year, I’d refused to ignore the festive season, and I’d gone all out for Conner’s first Christmas, bullying everyone and ordering them around until my little family had their own strange version of a Norman Rockwell painting, complete with mistletoe and a dish of special cranberry sauce laced with O positive for a certain vamp. Gunn had told me it was the first real Christmas he’d ever had, making me feel touched and sad and awed and happy all at once.

Fred and Wes stood behind the couch, close enough that their arms were touching slightly, both smiling their own secret joys and facing each other slightly. They’d reached an understanding, after denying it for so long, and I remember thinking that I wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. I’d just have to help Gunn mend his broken heart.

Only five more Christmases with this rag tag group of people that had become more real to me than my own screwed-up family – maybe six, if I got really lucky – and then it would all over for me.

And as I sat alone in my dark apartment and cried, I tried to convince myself that it was enough.

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Part 2

January 2002

Dennis threw things when I told him. Lots of things. I’m scared to look in the kitchen, because I don’t think there’s a single dish he hasn’t broken yet. I’m pretty sure I’ll have to pick up some more blood for Angel, because there’s a pretty good chance Dennis did something to the bags in my fridge that would put Angelus to shame. And now I have one upset ghostly roommate on my hands. The eraser board I bought him for Christmas floated behind me, wherever I went in the apartment, begging me not to do it.

Please, don’t die for him…he’s not worth it…

Have I mentioned that Phantom Dennis isn’t exactly Angel’s biggest fan lately? I swear, he was more upset by Angel firing us than we were – and for someone who doesn’t actually work at Angel Investigations, that’s pretty impressive – and he still hasn’t forgiven him entirely. Not that I’m surprised, really. Dennis is very protective of me. And ghosts have this amazing ability to hold grudges. Go figure.

“Don’t worry, Dennis,” I said, sighing softly. “I won’t leave you here alone. I’ll have one of the guys move in, or I’ll find a spell to move you to the hotel. You can be Connor’s guardian ghost…the little guy needs all the help he can get. And besides, it’s five years away. Who knows what will happen between now and then?”

His only response was to slam the bathroom door, and I sighed again. “I have to go to work now, but I’ll be home tonight, I promise. We’ll spend some time together…maybe some Phantom Dennis-Cordy bonding? I’ll bring you some Mountain Dew,” I added hopefully. I swear, I’ve got the only ghost in the Western Hemisphere that makes me buy him soda pop and subscribe to ESPN.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The bathroom door creaked back open, and I smiled when I felt his presence envelop me in what passed for a hug from him.

“Thanks, Dennis,” I whispered. “I really need you right now.”

Tell him.

“I can’t. I need to talk to Lorne, though. I want to see if he can read me, tell me what’s going to happen. I’ll see you tonight, Dennis.”

The door swung shut behind me, and I could hear him beginning the clean-up process from his earlier tantrum, and I knew he’d forgiven me. But I was still going to get a new supply of blood, just in case.

I walked to work, enjoying the feel of the wind in my hair and the sun on my skin. I haven’t taken the time to do that lately…I need to remember to enjoy that, before…

The lobby was empty when I pushed open the door, but I wasn’t surprised. Angel would be asleep, and it was still too early for the others to be up yet. As quickly and quietly as I could, I crept upstairs and knocked on the door to Lorne’s suite. I could hear him humming inside, and I had to bite my lip to hold back the giggles when he pulled open the door dressed in a shiny gold robe bedecked with turquoise triangles.

“Princess! How are you feeling this morning?” he asked cheerfully. Then he looked at me closely. “Oh, dear. Come in.”

“You know then?”

“I know something’s not right in your pretty little head. Come tell Auntie Lorne all about it,” he said, patting the sofa next to him.

I looked at his smiling face and swallowed back tears. Funny…last night, I thought I’d cried my quota of tears for the next decade. But all it took was telling one more person that my brain was one big time bomb to make me weepy again.

Where do I start? How do I begin to tell him the truth? I could just sing and let him figure it out for himself, but I owe him more than that. After all, he was beheaded because of me…the least I could do was let him hear it from me. I just didn’t know it would hurt quite so much.

“Um…I don’t know how to tell you this. But you have to promise me, whatever I tell you is just between the two of us.”

“Cordelicious! Of course it is! I don’t read and tell, you know.” He winked. “But I do kiss and tell.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Lorne.” I walked to the window and stared out at the gardens below. I’d just started to get them cleaned up properly, because Connor was going to need a yard to play in when he got a little older…guess I should start making a list of things I need to do. “Last night, when I got sucked into the pain-o-rama vision hell, something funny happened. At first, it was the usual scratch and sniff pain party, but then everything went black.”

“You went into a coma and Angelcakes went nuts. I remember.” He shuddered. “Like the big guy’d let us forget any time soon.”

“Something…happened to me while I was there. Everything got light again. Really bright light, like someone had flipped a switch and turned on every light on the planet. And…and they were there.”

“Who, Princess?”

“The Powers,” I whispered, hearing him gasp behind me. Slowly, I turned. Poor Lorne looked like someone had told him he was going to be banished to Pylea for a fun-filled eternity without showtunes.

“You- you saw the Powers?” he stammered, standing up slowly. He looked green. Well…greener than usual, anyway. “No human has ever seen them and come back to talk about it.”

I shrugged. “I bargained with them.”

“You bargained with the highest forces of good the world has ever known?”

“We made a deal.”

“You made a deal. With the Powers That Be.” He sank back against the sofa, holding his head in his hands and rubbing his horns absently. “Do I even want to know the rest?”

“Angel’s going to Shanshu in five years. And they’re going to continue protecting Connor, and he can stay here with Angel.”

His face brightened. “Angelcakes is going to be thrilled!” Then he looked at me closely. “Wait a second. What did you give them to make them be so generous? Cause I gotta tell you – the Powers? Not exactly into the business of handing out get out of jail free cards.”

I closed my eyes, not able to look at him anymore. “They gave me a choice. Give up the visions and forget the last three years…or…they’re killing me, Lorne. The visions are killing me. Humans were never meant to be seers. I was never supposed to be Angel’s seer, but Doyle screwed things up when he died. It was all just one big mistake. My whole life is a mistake.” A tear slid down my cheek and dripped off the edge of my chin.

“What?”

“I’m dying, Lorne. They told me I had five years to live. They gave me what I want because of all the good Angel will do in those years with me, before…” I swallowed painfully. “I need you to read me, Lorne. I need to be sure that they didn’t lie to me.”

“Oh, Princess.”

I opened my eyes and smiled at him a little. I’d never seen him look so sad before – not even when he heard Angel was planning on serenading us with “Stairway to Heaven.”

“Do I need to sing?” He nodded, and I groaned. “I was afraid of that.” I plucked a CD out of my bag and walked over to his CD player.

The opening music of U2’s “Beautiful Day” beat out, and I gave him a watery smile. “Just remember you asked for this,” I warned him. Then I closed my eyes and thought of Angel…this song always reminded me of him, for some reason. It reminded me of the way he saved me from myself, gave my life a purpose. Seemed almost fitting that the song would be the instrument Lorne used to tell me that I had to leave him.

//The heart is a bloom
Shoots up through the stony ground
There's no room
No space to rent in this town

You're out of luck
And the reason that you had to care
The traffic is stuck
And you're not moving anywhere
You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place
Someone you could lend a hand
In return for grace

It's a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

You're on the road
But you've got no destination
You're in the mud
In the maze of her imagination

You love this town
Even if that doesn't ring true
You've been all over
And it's been all over you

It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away
It's a beautiful day

Touch me
Take me to that other place
Teach me
I know I'm not a hopeless case

See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light
And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out

It was a beautiful day
Don't let it get away
Beautiful day

Touch me
Take me to that other place
Reach me
I know I'm not a hopeless case

What you don't have you don't need it now
What you don't know you can feel it somehow
What you don't have you don't need it now
Don't need it now
Was a beautiful day//

I hit the CD player as the music faded away, and looked at Lorne hopefully. As much as I was willing to give up for Connor and Angel, I still hoped that this was some kind of weird dream caused by some really bad Chinese food. But the look on his face told me it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. I knew. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t…but you should.”

“I can’t. It would hurt them too much. It would hurt all of us.” I would just have to learn to live with the hurt and the tears and the guilt.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Live my life. Enjoy every minute. Take the time to smell the roses while I can.” I shrugged. “I’m going to try to get some acting jobs…there are some things I still need to do.”

He hugged me tightly, and for a second, I could swear he was fighting back tears. “You’ll do it, Princess.”

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Part 3

January 2002

Angel was still asleep when I slipped into Connor’s nursery, but his son wasn’t. He was making soft little cooing sounds, and when I picked him up, I could swear he smiled at me. Or maybe it was just gas.

Silently, I changed him and dressed him for the day. He was already drifting back to sleep in my arms, and I rocked him absently, listening to his rapid little heartbeat. My lips brushed across his forehead as I moved to stand in the doorway that adjoined his nursery to Angel’s room.

“Had a busy night, huh, my little man?” I whispered under my breath as Connor yawned sleepily. Toys, empty bottles, books, clothing, diapers and changing supplies were strewn around Angel’s normally fastidious room, and I bit back a giggle. It looked like Angel had simply collapsed on his bed after Connor finally fell asleep, not even bothering to crawl under the blankets or change out of his milk-splattered clothing.

I leaned against the doorframe as I watched him. He’s so still when he sleeps, so different from his waking hours. Then, he’s constantly in motion, even when he’s doing nothing at all. It’s hard to believe that someone who’s been one of the undead for centuries is more alive than some people I know.

But the real change in Angel when he sleeps is his face. When he’s awake, it’s always so guarded. Always. Sure, he smiles and laughs more often now, but there’s still this tiny piece of him he holds back, this thing that keeps him from being totally free. When he’s asleep, though, he looks so peaceful. He’s smiling a little now, and he looks so gentle. Like he doesn’t have a worry in the world.

Sometimes, I wonder what he dreams about. Playing with Connor in the sunlight? Going back to her? Or maybe, just maybe, me?

Last night, I dreamed about him. Him and Connor, playing on the beach as the sun shone down on them, while Wes chased Fred in the surf and Lorne and Gunn checked out girls in bikinis. When I woke up, I couldn’t stop crying. Because I wasn’t there, not even in the dream…and I wanted to be there, more than anything. But I’ll never be there…and that hurts more than any pain I’ve ever felt before, like I’m ripping my own heart out. I keep telling myself I’m doing the right thing, though. That’s the only thing that’s getting me through the day. Because if I didn’t do it, then maybe he wouldn’t be there, either. Maybe he’d miss entire chunks of Connor’s childhood because he couldn’t walk in the sun with his child. Because I was the same old selfish Cordelia. I don’t like the person I used to be, and I won’t be her, ever again. And if that was the alternative, then no one will ever convince me I made the wrong choice.

Connor’s making those soft little noises babies make when they sleep. Another thing he must have gotten from his father…for a vampire who doesn’t need to breathe, Angel can certainly snore loud enough when he wants to. “Let’s let Daddy sleep a while, hmm, Connor?” I whispered, as we went downstairs. I grabbed one of the soft little baby blankets I bought him and the cordless phone and we went out into the garden.

Carefully, I spread the blanket on the grass and placed Connor on it. Ever since he’d been born, I’d made it my job to give him the one thing his father couldn’t – the light. And now it was a daily ritual for the two of us, our quiet time in the garden, when Connor got to live in the sun, and I told him everything I was thinking and feeling, all my dreams and my hopes for his future. He really is a good listener, something he has in common with his Daddy. Sure, he can’t talk back yet, but that will come in time. Although considering how hard it is to get his father to talk at times, the poor kid might think he’s supposed to brood instead of talk.

This time alone with him – it’s my favourite time of day, I think. Just being around Connor makes me happy…it’s strange, really. I’ve never really been around small children before. I was an only child of only children, so I didn’t even have younger cousins. When I was a little girl, I didn’t dream of the things other little girls dreamed about. I never pretended my doll was my baby, and by the time I was a teenager, I had pretty much decided I never wanted children. Maybe because I was so scared I’d screw them up the same way my parents did with me. We learn from example, don’t we? What did I know about being a mother? My own mother ignored me in favour of the bottle, the country club luncheons and the affairs with the pool boy.

But all that changed the moment I looked at Connor. With one look, he found his way into my heart…he’s a lot more like his daddy than most people know. Every time I look at his sweet little face, every time he makes some giant leap in development – whether the doctor tells us he’s gained weight or he discovers his nose – I feel such overwhelming love that I want to cry. I love him so much and I’m so proud of him…I hope, someday, he’ll understand what I’m doing. I hope he’ll forgive me and maybe, just maybe, remember how much I loved him.

I’m not his mother. I know that. Darla is, and that won’t change, no matter how much I wish it wasn’t true. But I love him, anyway…because he’s a part of Angel, sure, but also because of Connor himself. The first night I had a vision and sent the guys off to take care of it, he cried for hours. Nothing seemed to help, so I took him in my arms and walked the halls with him until I could see the sun starting to peak over the horizon. When he finally quieted and drifted to sleep in my arms, so trusting and so dependent on me…he took my heart that day. And I don’t ever want it back.

I was still in the nursery when Angel stumbled in, barely escaping an extra-crispy suntan. He said I looked tired and asked me what was wrong, and I remember I just smiled. Because for the first time in my life, nothing was wrong. I was complete.

I lowered myself to the grass next to him and flipped through my address book. I took a deep breath and punched in the numbers until a too-chirpy receptionist answered. “Yes, hello, may I speak to Mr. Jameson please? You can tell him it’s Cordelia Chase calling.”

“One moment, please, I’ll see if he’s available.”

The line filled with cheesy elevator music that would make Lorne cringe even more than he did when Angel sang “Mandy.” And then my former agent answered the line and I tried to forget how much my hands were trembling. I’m Cordelia Chase, dammit. I can do this. I can do anything.

“Cordelia, darling, how are you?”

“Fine, Sam, thanks. I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point. I’m interested in getting some auditions, and I’m hoping you’ll represent me again.”

“I thought you told me you were quitting?” The poor man sounded absolutely befuddled. He’d begged me not to, last May after the Pylea incident. But Angel had just left on his little regain-his-sanity-with-the-demon-monks vacation, and I was far too busy trying to hold the business together – and missing and worrying about him – to think about having a life outside of helping the helpless. To be honest, I really didn’t want to, anyway. It felt wrong, doing something as insignificant as going on auditions when my best friend’s heart was breaking. And my heart was breaking for him.

“I was. But I recently realized that acting is still something I want to do, and I know I can do it well. And you know it, too. Sam, please. Just a few commercials?”

He sighed, and I knew I’d won. Guess that gift basket I sent him for Christmas wasn’t a total waste. “I’m not promising you anything,” he warned.

“I know you’ll do your best. But Sam, believe me, I’m serious about this.”

And I am. Five years isn’t a long time, and there were things I needed to do. I needed to give my dreams one last shot. And I need the money. I need to make sure they’ll all be okay, after...

He sighed again. “Okay. Can you do an audition today? I had a casting agent call here, and I didn’t have anyone to send, but you just might be what they’re looking for.”

“What are they looking for?” I held my breath anxiously. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

“The all-American girl, Cordelia. It’s a long-distance commercial, so it’s going to be sappy. A girl away from home at college, calling her grandmother. Can you be there at 2 p.m.?”

“Just give me the address.” I wrote it down quickly, almost bouncing with excitement. “Thanks, Sam. You won’t regret this.”

“I hope not. Break a leg.”

“I will.” I hit end and picked up a now wide-awake Connor and hugged him to me tightly. “I’m going to do it, baby. Just you watch. I’m going to make you proud of me.”

Continue on...