(Note: This is set after
Disharmony but the clothes gift didn’t happen.
Cordy is still pissy and Angel, while wanting to make it up to her, can
only take so much abuse.)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Coalescence, \Co`a*les"cence\, n. The act or state of growing together, as similar parts; the act of uniting by natural affinity or attraction; the state of being united; union; concretion.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Life Lessons – The Weather and Other Constants
A yellow haze hid the San Bernardino Mountains from
travelers along the I-10 leaving
Sitting in front of her window air conditioner, holding a glass of ice water to her temple in deep thought, Cordelia Chase was too caught up in her own thoughts to heed nature’s warning signs. As the grimy blanket enveloped the world outside her apartment, the curtain that had blinded her eyes was finally lifting.
For three days and nights following Harmony’s betrayal at the red-bird theatre Cordelia had been reevaluating her ability to tell truth from lies and the awful reality was she sucked as a human polygraph.
Everyone she had cared about, everyone she ever trusted had lied to her. Harmony, Xander, her parents… But the worst of them all was Angel. She had been positive that Angel was sincere when he said she was his friend and family and yet he had fired and abandoned her. A lie that almost killed her.
No, she could no longer trust her own instincts. That’s why she decided to let someone else judge for her: Samuel L. Jackson.
In “The Negotiator” there was a pivotal scene about eye movement and lying which had stayed with her. The memory of that scene rushed back to her on the street outside the theatre when she and Angel argued about Harmony. After mentioning how crazy he would have been to have slept with Darla, his eyes had shifted up and to the right when he said, “You know I would never do that.”
Seeing his eyes stray from hers at that moment immediately triggered Sam Jackson’s explanation that eyes that moved up and to the right meant the person was searching his right brain for a story to cover his ass. Or was it to the left for the story and to the right to remember the truth? Maybe renting the movie and watching it again would have been a better plan than storming to the hotel and confronting him, but earth logic and doing things the easy way were never Cordelia’s forte.
Besides, the whole theory rested on the flimsy notion that he even possessed a brain, right and/or left, and the jury was still out on that one. Whatever his eyes said today would sway her one way or the other. Maybe. If he was still undead alive after she finished with him.
Part 1 – Unwelcome Guests
The rusted metal hinges swelled in the damp heat and squeaked announcing his visitor. No one was expected and Angel’s first thought was friend or foe. Stealing swiftly to the landing’s edge, shadowed and breathless, he waited.
A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead between his gold eyes and slithered down his nose. It clung to the tip daring him to remove it. But the experienced predator would not give the interloper any warning by swiping, shaking or pushing out his lower lip to blow it off. There it dangled waiting patiently for its eventual fall and splash.
Thwacking footfalls edged closer. Definitely human. No demon would wear flip-flops. The stride was succinct and determined. Female. Pissed female. What woman is mad at me now?
“ANGEL!”
Cordelia.
He jerked and the sweat on his nose fell and joined the pool of it suddenly flooding the pores on his chest and armpits. He didn’t know at that moment whether the clammy feeling started because he was anticipating a fight with a demon or because of the woman who approached. These days both were dangerous.
The French doors slammed behind her. Unflinching and focused, Cordy started up the stairs, head down, mumbling to herself about vampires and blonde bitches.
“Cordelia.”
“Ack!” She grabbed the railing and her chest. “Angel, geez. Please. A little cough once in awhile would really be appreciated.”
He almost laughed but considering their current “we’re not friends” relationship, he didn’t think she would appreciate it. The splayed hand clutching her chest brought his eyes to the sweat stain on the white shirt between her breasts. He didn’t think she would appreciate him staring at that either, so he decided to be as unemotional as possible as he spoke. “What are you doing here on a Sunday? Did you have a vision?”
She answered with enough emotion for both of them. “Am I bothering you? Sorry if my visions interrupt your busy brooding schedule. I’ll try to suffer on your behalf when it’s more convenient for you in the future.”
Normally the verbal slap would have had the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders, but this time he didn’t deserve it and said so. “Don’t do that. You know I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’ve apologized over and over again. I know the visions are important and so are you, so just tell me. Did you have a vision?”
Cordy continued up the stairs, stiff-backed and confident. His shadowed bulk became more distinct the closer she edged. “You could say I had a vision. Oh, no. That’s not the right word. How about epiphany? You like that word. You’re all about epiphanies.”
Angel’s eyes narrowed and jaw muscles tightened when she mocked the most important moment of his souled life thus far. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I was kind of busy.”
“Sorry to disturb your nap. Or were you in mid-brood? Hard to tell the difference really. Don’t worry this won’t take long. Just answer one question and I’m out of your hair.”
Angel started inching back as Cordy took one and then another step closer. Her presence was suddenly stifling him more than the heavy humidity of the afternoon which made even the wallpaper sweat.
“I was just about to get some lunch so what is it?” He turned before that finger she was itching to poke in his chest could get cocked and headed back to his room.
He stopped in his tracks when she asked, “Did you have sex with Darla?”
As he turned, his vision picked up the resolute set of her jaw and one hand firmly gripping her hip while the other’s clasp practically shattered a plastic bottle of water. He could see actual steam rising from the boiling perspiration on her skin and the anger that seethed beneath it. It was obvious this question and Cordy were not going away.
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. The lie he was about to repeat got lodged in his throat as he stared into the stubborn glare of her allergen irritated eyes. He wondered for a moment if he could fire her again to get rid of her, but spun around and walked away instead.
Part 2 – House Warming
How did this happen? I was in my room, contemplating my sins because it’s Sunday, and I feel more human doing it on Sunday. I try to do some on Wednesday in case the fundamentalist Baptists have the inner track and Saturday on the off chance this whole Christian thing is a fad. There’s really not enough time to appease all the Gods, but I do try to mope facing East whenever possible.
“Damn it, Angel, you’re ignoring me. Again!”
One of those sins I was seriously brooding over was firing my best friend and lying to her. I am now over it.
“If you’d stop following me, you wouldn’t notice I’m ignoring you.” He quickly opened and closed door after door lining the abandoned, cluttered hallway whipping dust up in his wake. He’d been doing this seemingly senseless task of door opening and closing all over the second and third floors and was now midway through the fourth.
“Angel! Just answer my question and I’ll leave you alone," she said as she swiped the dusty sweat from her forehead. “Would you slow down for a minute? Please." The polite word was squeezed out between clamped jaws.
Dropping his hand from the knob, he sighed, turned and lost all focus. She was heaving. Bent over with her hands planted on her knees, he had a clear view down her tank top and the glistening bosoms beneath.
Angel didn’t question why she was out of breath. He was just enjoying it. She was more tired than not these days which he attributed to the stress of getting the business back on track and their strained relationship.
But a year of body-racking visions had begun to stretch her physical limits. Combined with the current heat, humidity and chasing a vampire around three floors of a hotel, her limits were officially passed.
“Angel? Just tell me the truth.” Cordy’s eyes were on the carpet and not the peeping Tom in front of her.
The spell broken, it took him a second to remember the question. “I’ve already answered that.”
“You lied,” she gasped between gulps of air. “Your eyes shifted, Angel. Up and to the right. You lied.”
For a moment he thought she knew. That she had somehow read his mind. Then she’d kept talking and he was just confused. “What are you talking about?” He turned and started down the hall opening and closing the next door in line and then moving on.
Cordy lumbered after him. “Your eyes, Angel. When you said you’d never sleep with Darla. They shifted up and to the right. You were searching your right brain for a story.”
He laughed.
“Don’t laugh at me, mister! It’s a known fact,” she said.
He halted and turned, dumbfounded by what she’d just said. He watched as she took in his disbelief, crossed her arms in front of her and raised her eyebrows.
Angel knew that look. It was her I-don’t-know-what-I’m-talking-about look also known as the Queen C Bluff.
“Don’t tell me,” he said. “You read that in Cosmo probably taking one of those men are so stupid quizzes.”
“No, smart ass. It was in a movie.” She put her hand to her mouth but the dreaded “movie” word was already out.
He snickered. “A movie? You trust something said in a movie over me. Thanks, Cordy. That makes me feel really special.”
Turning from her again, he moved quickly down the hall more anxious than ever to get away. Telling her the first lie was difficult. But she was forcing him to add another and another on top of it. He was about to be smashed under the weight of them all. He needed her to leave. Now.
Cordy followed as best she could, the heat and constant motion depleting her energy. “They do research for movies you know. Besides, it was Samuel L Jackson!”
“Oh, then it must be true.” He slammed another door and risked a look behind him. She was four doors down and propped against the wall with an outstretched arm. He waited too long and was caught staring when she suddenly looked up.
“Angel? For crap's sake, why are we up here?” she asked.
Another lie passed through his lips. “Security check. Caught a vagrant in here just last week."
Angel knew she wasn't buying it when her head tilted and her lips pursed spraying a patented, "pfft" out between them.
Well, it was partly true. There had been a vagrant. But his real mission was to find a room so disgusting that she would refuse to stay in it long enough to wear him down. He did have vampire stamina but occasionally even he needed help outlasting the Queen.
Turning from her death glare, he resumed his search. “You can always just give it up and leave," he said over his shoulder.
“Not a chance, mister. I risked heat stroke and a lung infection to get the truth out of you, and I’m not giving up until you talk or I die. And right now my death feels pretty damn imminent,” she said quietly to herself. Moving too quickly, Cordy swooned then settled after she gulped a few deep breaths.
Angel laughed. “If I really thought death would stop you, you would’ve been drained before the second floor.”
“Yeah, yeah, stop trying to seduce me with your sweet talk and just tell me the truth!” She yelled at him as he rounded a corner.
Suddenly the familiar beat of slamming doors stopped. The sizzling stillness was interrupted only by the buzz of flies. “Angel? Angel!!” Cordy’s eyes darted all around in panic. Tumbling forward on stiff legs, she finally caught up to him standing in the middle of what appeared to be the Hyperion’s share of the city dump.
“Yuck! I thought all these rooms were equally disgusting, but this is a new level of ewww,” her scrunched nose and forehead accentuated the revulsion in her voice. “I didn’t know you rented out rooms for fraternity parties.”
“If you don’t like my new home, you’re welcome not to stay.” He sat on what could have been discarded rags left over from the last plague and rested his back against the peeled wallpaper across from her. Lolling his head forward and yawning, he closed his eyes to her fidgeting and began the process of shutting off his other senses to wait her out.
Cordy kicked a rusted pork and beans can from her intended sitting spot. That fact that he flinched at the high-pitched pinging gave her some satisfaction. She stomped on an old newspaper and loudly scraped the floor with it hoping to further irritate him while she cleaned a spot to sit. But when all it did was raise more dust that choked her and his only reaction was to twist his neck to crack it, she harrumphed, folded her legs and sat.
His new “home” was just an above-ground sewer minus the cozy
ambiance. One obvious reason he had
chosen this room over others was the still working Venetian blinds that
sheltered the room from the
Cordy fought back the rising bile burning her esophagus. The taste was now on the back of her tongue and she hefted the water to her mouth and sipped. The nearly hot liquid chased most of the acid reflux back to her stomach, but not her ire at the cool, calm and totally relaxed man across from her.
The room looked like someone had lived and possibly died there. A mattress leaned against the crumbling plaster wall with deadly springs poking from the stained and ripped cover. Shredded furniture suggested an inhabitant prone to fits of rage and the heaps of cans and wrapping papers said he apparently ate a lot of beans, chiliburgers and fries from Tommy’s.
The gastric consequences of such a diet and temperament made Cordy wonder if that mountain of crusted brownish whatever in the corner had been his emergency toilet. The fleet of flies hovering there seemed to confirm that theory.
Looking at Angel with his head lowered and his arms crossed seemingly oblivious to the muck and her discomfort, vengeance suddenly seemed more important than truth.
“Don’t even try to out clever me, buster. I can stand the filth as long as you can. Pfft. Longer. Look how long I’ve put up with working for a corpse.” She crinkled her nose at a morbid smell. “Speaking of...is that you?”
Angel's whole body tightened and twitched at the insult and his chest vibrated with the growl trapped there. He glowered at her, unable to hide his reaction.
“I believe that’s a dead rat,” he replied with a sniff. His mouth loosened into a smirk as he said, “From the direction, I’d say it’s somewhere near your butt.”
“Oh, crap!” Darting up unsteadily, she tripped on her flip and flopped against the door shutting it hard. The rest happened so quickly there was nothing anyone could do. Rotted, swollen wood ripped and explosive booms sounded beyond the door. The entire room quaked from the cacophony in the hall that seemed to last forever.
Angel’s head snapped up at a sound but was too late to move. He could only stare, dead air escaping his lips, as he watched the ceiling beam fall toward Cordy.
“Cordelia!” he screamed. He lunged toward her but was knocked down as chunks of plaster and beams pummeled him from above. The sound of his name howled in terror was the last noise that echoed in the room as he was buried.
Part 3 – Bringing Down the House
He wasn’t sure if it was moments or hours, but it seemed that as quickly as it started, it was over. After the tremors and clamors, there was nothing but stifling silence and clouds. Dust from plaster, dust from the opened up ceiling, dust from the disturbed floor, and son of dust choked the room.
A shroud-like stillness sheathed him like the familiar blanket of death and for a moment he felt at peace. Then he remembered.
“Cordelia!” Angel burst from beneath the mountain of destruction oblivious to the unstable structure around him. He tripped and fell toward where he last saw her, but he still couldn’t see clearly through the fog.
“Answer me, Cordy. Are you okay?” His voice and body shook more violently with every second of dead air.
From what seemed like miles away, she coughed. And then spit and then angrily fanned at the grime. Her actions only stirred up more of the grit which only pissed her off and came through loud and clear in her voice. “Oh, I’m frickin’ fine. Just goddamn peachy. How the hell do you think I am?”
He finally saw her outline pinned against the door. She was a portrait in grays, the powder storming around her settling in every crevice of her body and around every hair. Her mouth opened wide as she tried to hack out the film coating her tongue and throat. “Heecch, phtuey.”
But, it was the dog shake that changed everything. Angel thought he’d never seen a bouncier or a more beautiful sight. He was about to smile as relief filled him, but the copper scent that slammed against his scorched throat muzzled it. A wet crimson stain pooled and widened on her gray chest.
“Cordy. Your chest. You’re bleeding.”
“What?” She looked down and watched as her blood soaked her shirt.
“Angel? I think I’m going to fall now.” Cordy’s knees bent and she slumped. She didn’t feel his arms catch her, only that she was there and now she was here, where Angel had been sitting. He hovered over her, his fingers gripping her arms, his cool body acting as a canopy against the sultry day. She fought the urge to faint and vomit, her senses suddenly overloaded with moldy death and damp rot.
Her eyes desperately searched his for strength. Instead she found worry and gold flashes of his demon’s hunger. Her mouth went even drier as his nostrils flared at the fresh blood so close.
She sat up and steeled herself against the pain and his instincts. “Angel, I’m okay.” Her hand pushed at this chest. “Don’t crowd me. It...it’s okay. I can take care of myself.”
Angel jolted up and away from her. His feet kicked at plaster debris and stomped on splintered wood pulverizing it. “I need to get you out of here, damn it. I’m going to check out the damage in the hall.”
Alone, she pulled the tank away from her chest and assessed the damage to her left breast. Something, a nail protruding from the beam or possibly the beam’s edge, had sliced through her top and bra, almost giving her a mastectomy. She needed stitches - lots of them – to stop the torrent of red from escaping. And some anesthesia wouldn’t hurt.
“Okay, that’s pretty bad,” she quietly told herself. “Thank you, God, for vampires. Heh. Never thought that prayer would come out of my mouth.”
Angel returned and hesitantly knelt down. “Uh, Cordy. We’re stuck.”
She glanced toward the ceiling, gave God the hairy eyeball and sighed. “I take it back.”
Grabbing his shirt, she pulled his nose to hers and roared. “What kind of a vampire are you? Go! Hit stuff! Make a big hole! Pound your inner vamp moppet! Do whatever you have to do, but just rescue me, you jerk!”
“Cordy, calm down, okay?” He pried her fingers from his now permanently wrinkled rayon and manacled her wrists to push her back. “Look. The hallway above...hell, most of the building that was above us...is now just outside that door. It’s a cave in, and I can’t budge any of it. We’re stuck here until the sun goes down, and I can leave through the window.”
Her features became animated as a brilliant idea struck. “Oh! The fire escape! I’ll go down the...”
“This is a hotel, not an apartment building. They don't put fire escapes on hotels.” Angel ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his neck stretching it back and forth as he massaged.
“Well that's stupid. Who made that rule?" Cordy looked at him accusingly.
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe it was the evil hotels-with-no-fire-escape club of which I must be the president! Is that really important right now?" He stared at her daring her to keep it up.
Cordy could see he was as frustrated as she and possibly just as panicked. Being smart and a little light headed, she decided it was time to back off. "All right. Okay. Chill. I’ll just hold my diced up body part together until dark. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
She cried out in agony as she put pressure against her breast to stem the blood’s flow that had worsened during her manic attack on Angel.
“Cordy.” He reached for her but an outstretched arm blocked him.
“I’m fine. Really. Just a twinge of...” Her eyelids fluttered.
Angel watched helplessly as her eyes rolled up and she slumped over.
Part 4 –Specialty of the House
By the angle of the light seeping through the slats of the blinds, Angel sensed it was about 2:15. He’d been cradling Cordy against his body for at least 40 minutes. Without her constant talking to keep him occupied, he found it difficult to keep his mind off the hunger that her open wound evoked.
He opened his mouth and breathed in the microscopic pink particles of blood soaking the muggy air around him. He swallowed hard and sighed when just the faintest hint of her spice touched his tongue.
“Mmmm.” Cordy moaned and stirred in his arms.
“Hey,” he said softly with a slight tremor as the guilt of having relished even for a moment in the taste of her blood filled him. “How do you feel?”
“Ummm...like I lost a lot of blood and fainted. You ever get that feeling?” Barely awake, she snuggled deeper into Angel’s chest trying to get comfortable.
“Once,” he said remembering in every detail the experience of losing his blood and welcoming the darkness in that alley centuries ago. The voice of a perturbed Cordelia brought him out of his flashback and quickly into the present.
“Angel. Why am I lying on top of you and what in the hell is your hand doing on my breast?”
“I’m keeping the pressure on it so you won’t die. Call me nutty, but I thought you’d be okay with me trying to save your life.”
“Fine, nutty, but I’m awake now, so I’ll pressure myself, thank you.” She pushed his hand away and gasped when the layers of tissue pulled apart again. Seeping liquid coated her palm as she forced the skin back together.
Angel’s hand instinctively went back to her injury when she hissed, but she warned him off with a quick slap. “Let me go. I can do it,” she said as she sat forward and tried to scoot off his lap.
Angel reluctantly slid out from under her and stood. His eye caught the sight of Cordy’s bottle of water near the door and he retrieved it quickly. Bringing it back to her, he slid his hand under her neck bringing her head forward to drink.
“Here, take some water,” he said.
Cordy’s mouth remained in a tight line for a second refusing to open up to his attempt to help. When he didn’t budge the rim from her mouth, she reluctantly opened and took some of the offered liquid. A few small sips were all she would allow herself.
“Enough,” she said as she again shoved his assistance and his arm away.
Angel moved back, replaced the cap on the small amount of water that was left and waited for her to set the tone. While she was unconscious, he had been in charge. But now that she was awake, he had no doubt he would say and do anything she wanted.
He watched as she struggled one-handed to get repositioned. In an instant Angel placed her where she wanted to be - sitting up with her back against the wall. Her eyelids flickered and head swayed as the quick movement and new position made the blood rush from her brain.
“Cordy, you need to lie down.”
She took a deep breath. “No, I’ll be fine. Really.”
She would not be fine. Not for five more hours. If he didn’t do something, she could bleed out and he wouldn’t be able to live knowing he could’ve saved her but was too scared to do it.
Angel left her side and climbed over the rubble to sit in the only corner in shadow to think. Resting his elbows on his raised knees he watched Cordy as she struggled to keep steady pressure on her chest and flinched over and over again when in her weakened state her hand kept falling and the pain made her whimper.
She was so damned determined not to need him and so damned brave. He wished he could say the same. He definitely needed her. He had prayed to all things holy to free him from that need, but part of his epiphany had been all about her and how much she meant to him. She had to be blind not to notice all the sucking up he’d been doing over the past few weeks to get her back. Did she think he enjoyed groveling?
And he wasn’t that brave. <