Title: A Gentle Coercion
Author: ophelia
Posted: 12-13-2002
Rating: R for language
Email: opheliafics@yahoo.com
Content:
Summary: Angst, Angst, and More Angst
Spoilers: Post Rain of Fire
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Florrie May Have
Notes: This is, without a doubt, the most angst ridden thing I have ever witten. Be warned going in and leave your honest opinions and thoughts going out. Oh, and credit goes to Fiona Apple for the title. Also, I used much harsher language in this story than I typically do--but I think you'll see why it was needed.
Feedback: Any and all kinds more than welcome
Dedication: Unquestionably for Kel (aka starlet) who, even though it was my first time, was rough with me. Thanks for the inspiration, the editing, and the support. I'm sure I'll make you do it again.For anyone else, he thought absently, the coldness would have seeped through hours ago. But as it was, the coldness didn’t know he was there. Didn’t sense an intruding warmth. No life to invade, nowhere to crawl.
Glancing down, Angel fingered a piece of broken glass. The shards were littered across the concrete floor—vibrant colors of the torn stems and blossoms they once held melting into the darkness that surrounded them. He’d left the lights off but it didn’t matter, he could still see it all. Even from his position on the floor, head in hands, he could still see far too much.
Closing his eyes, he tried in vain to block it out, closed his fists as if to fight the images away. A sharp sting interrupted his thoughts. Looking down, he realized he’d sliced his finger open. The blood was just beginning to run lazily down towards the pale surface of his palm. Instead of stopping the flow of his wound, he reached down and picked up a handful of petals—his borrowed blood mixing with their false, satin surface.
Angel gave a grim smile as he looked at the tableaux. There was nothing real here. He knew that now. That’s why he couldn’t leave. There was no coming and going of people—warm beings who had infested his life like rats. Unbidden. Unwelcome. Uneeded. He picked up the last of the vases she’d left and felt it’s smooth surface on his skin.
Stillness. That was all he needed. Silence. No breathing. No talking. No listening.
No living.
A sharp crash echoed through the room and Angel realized he’d smashed the vase against the far wall. He began to curse himself—action meant movement. Movement meant change. Change meant things you could never take back.
Like loving someone
Like fucking someone
Like killing someone
Why had they always been so intertwined for him? Leaning his head back, he glanced above as though looking for an answer.
We live as though the world were as it should be, to show it what can be.
He was tired of waiting for answers.
Standing quickly, he ignored the stiffness that had overtaken his limbs and strode to the wall where his sword was hanging. He knew how the world should be, and he knew how to make it that way with the flick of his wrist.
But even as he reached for the solution his instincts screamed for, he paused.
You’re not a part of that now. I hope you will be
Hope. Was that what was stopping him? A strong and clear hazel gaze swept through his mind. He shook his head to clear the image, but it was too late. The floodgates opened and once again, there was no stopping the torrent.
Maybe Connor was creating the world as it should be. He took a step back. Maybe she was creating the world she wanted. The one that had his son doing all the things he had always tried to do for her. To be the things that he had tried to be for her.
Heedless of the blood on his hand, he swept a palm over his forehead. Turning around, he ignored the blood dripping down into his eyes. He paced, trying to find a direction to turn—somewhere to look to make the images stop.
Connor who sat and talked with her. Connor who she ran to. Connor who held her when she cried. Connor who fought with her and beside her. His son who moved with her, moved inside of her…
Bracing himself against the stairwell, Angel vomited.
Looking down he gave a dry laugh. Not even his blood was his.
He stood upright and began to wonder if he’d lost it even more than he knew. He wasn’t just seeing them anymore. He could smell them now. Their scents intermingled into an odor that threatened to send him back to his knees.
It only took him a few seconds to realize the smell wasn’t in his head. Without looking up, he pushed himself to the wall farthest away from her.
Not here. Not here. Not HERE. NOT HERE.
Angel didn’t realize he was saying it out loud until he saw her flinch. It lasted just a shadow of a second, but he saw it.
He never missed anything she did.
Cordelia stared at him in silence, her expression steely and unreadable. He wondered absently if she knew there was a blade hanging a few feet behind her. He wasn’t sure which he was trying to avoid more.
“Angel.”
Her voice was hoarse and he imagined that it must hurt to use it after all that talking she had done last night—at least if the pain inflicted by her words of explanation was any measure.
“Angel, we have to finish this.”
Her pain-wrecked voice invaded his ears again, but his eyes were drawn to the sharp blade behind her. Crossing his arms, he forced himself backwards into the shadows.
“No”
For the first time, her front broke and her eyes narrowed. “No? No what? No talking? No finishing?”
“No we” Angel’s eyes flickered back to hers before his gaze was caught by a red petal lying near her foot.
Cordelia chuckled, but it came out sounding like the cough of an old woman. She stepped forward, her foot grinding the remains of the flowers scattered underneath.
“Semantics, Angel.” Crossing her arms, she shrugged, “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here—but you have to get off your ass and save the world. Your son….Connor can’t do this alone.” Her arms tightened across her chest. “And if that means that we have to have this conversation, than we’re going to have it.”
At that, Angel’s eyes slithered up to meet hers. “Always so strong, aren’t you?” She seemed to shrink at the acid in his tone. “Always the martyr. Always the one to see things through. Are you going to fix me?” His voice grew softer but there was no gentleness to it. “You forget, I save the helpless whores, not the other way around.”
Closing her eyes briefly, Cordelia sighed. “Fuck you, Angel.” Her arms fell to her sides.
A glimmer of white snuck out from behind his curled lips, “Aren’t you already booked?”
She turned and stalked towards the stairway before halting abruptly and turning back to face him. Angel stood motionless has she swept towards him, stopping abruptly a few feet away. Without a word, she reached up and pulled a string—flooding the room with light.
He grimaced and stepped back towards the darkest corner of the room. “Why?”
Her stance was confident, but she tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she spoke. “Because I’m tired of the dark, Angel.”
He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head as his voice grew a little louder.
“Why Cordelia?”
At his tone, the last of her bravado seemed to melt away. Her voice came out as little more than a breath. “Because I’m tired of the dark, Angel.” She couldn’t bring herself to look up, but for a second she could have sworn she heard several sharp intakes of breath from him.
“I didn’t…I never asked you to….”
Cordelia’s eyes sharpened and her shoulders stiffened, “Didn’t you?”
His jaw jutted, “You got your memory back. Things were fine. You were coming home.” He took another step towards her. “It would have all been the same.”
Angel’s words coiled up inside of her like a windstorm, sweeping up all of the anger and frustration that had been building for over a year. All of the choices she’d made whirled into her vision like a swarm of locusts and for a moment she thought she was blind. And then, suddenly, her vision cleared and the strands of her life snapped. Her palms slammed into his chest.
“Fine?? Nothing is the same, Angel, NOTHING. Why can’t you see that?” Scanning the room, she looked at the scattered pieces of a simpler time on the floor. “Do you even want to know what happened to me in the great beyond?” Cordelia shoved her hair out of her eyes. “ I mean, I know what you did on your summer vacation, but you haven’t given one damn thought to what might be going on inside of me!”
His eyes darkened at her tone—at the desperation so obvious in her words. “That isn’t true. I did everything I could to find you. Everything. All I wanted was for….”
“Stop it! Just stop. All you talk about is what you think I want, what you think I need.” Her hands closed to fists as she pummeled at his chest. “The great Angel just fucking decided that I was happy in the big waiting room in the sky.” She grabbed his shirt. “You decided that lies were best when I didn’t have anything truth to cling to.” She yanked him toward her. “You decided that I needed to be alone after telling you I loved you.”
She pulled again, and he grabbed her arms to keep from falling into her. She desperately looked into his eyes, her nose almost touching his before he abruptly dropped her arms as though the touch of her skin burned him.
Cordelia dropped her hands but didn’t back away. “You decided that ignorance was bliss when you knew that there was something inside my head that was killing people. That was going to kill us all. You left me alone to deal because you were too scared to come and sit in the same damn room as me.”
He looked at her in silence as she walked away, flicking the light back off as she went. His eyes were being drawn to the sword again when he heard her pause on the top step.
Cordelia turned to look at him with something like regret in her eyes. “Nothing was the same, Angel. Nothing. It will never be the same, and maybe I fucked your son to show you that.”
Grasping the doorknob, she opened the door with a shaking hand. “Now grab that sword you’ve been pretending to ignore. There’s a world out here that only you can save.”
She walked into the sunlit lobby only to spot Connor anxiously waiting for her. She sighed and gave one last look towards the dark cavern below her.
“Don’t worry, Angel, you won’t be saving me. You can’t.”
End.