Summary: Cordelia challenges Angel
to Scrabble---but what kind of game is she REALLY playing?
Spoilers: Very mild, implied “Belonging”
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"You first," she said icily, to Angel.
To Wesley, perched curiously on the couch behind him, Angel sheepishly
explained "She's mad at me."
"I'm not," she seethed. "I'm letting you go first, aren't I? So
on with it!"
She could dimly make out the tops of the tiles as Angel thoughtfully shuffled
them around, grouping them idly into sets of two or three.
"You have a seven-letter word," offered Wesley helpfully.
"Cheater!" shrieked Cordelia. "Wesley, really..."
"It's ok, I see it," said Angel. With a slight smirk of triumph, he
placed the tiles in order, seven letters: B-A-F-F-L-E-D.
"The b's on a double word," noted Wesley. "That's eighteen,
doubled, is thirty-six, plus a bonus for using all the tiles, that's
eighty-six. Very nice."
"Thank you," said Angel.
Cordelia frowned, perusing her tiles thoughtfully. Angel drummed his fingers on
the table.
"So what's this fight about?" asked Wesley.
"No idea," said Angel. "She was..." he paused, considering
his words carefully. It wouldn't do to upset her further by saying the wrong
thing here. "She was like this when I came in," he finished weakly.
"I asked what was wrong, and she said 'don't you know?' and roping me into
this game was the first talking she's done since..."
Cordelia cleared her throat and placed her tiles down neatly, off the E in
Angel's word:
J-E-R-K.
"Twenty-three points," she declared. "Wesley, are you keeping
score?"
"In more ways than one, it would seem," he muttered under his breath.
Then, to Cordelia, "Yes, I suppose I am. All right Angel, your turn. Let's
see what you can do with that!"
Angel considered his tiles carefully, as Wesley thoughtfully regarded Cordelia.
"All right, Cordelia, if you won't tell Angel what's bothering you,
perhaps you could at least tell me?"
"Nice try, Wes. Sorry, but Angel has to figure this one out on his
own."
"I understand that," said Wesley patiently. "But right now, he's
so deep in thought that he's barely paying us any attention. And really, you
can't expect me to spend my afternoon keeping score if I don't know what game
you're playing."
Angel plunked down twenty-four points: T-H-I-N-K.
"All right," said Cordelia. "I'll give you both a clue. Ask him
what he said after my audition yesterday."
She retreated into thought, as Wesley turned eagerly to Angel. "Well? What
happened?"
"Nothing!" insisted Angel. "She asked me to pick her up when the
audition was over. I did. I asked her how it went, and she said it was awful,
that ever since she did that commercial, acting hasn't been the same. I told
her if she felt that way that nobody would think less of her if she just gave
it up. I mean, if acting makes her feel that way...if she's so...I thought I
was being understanding!"
Cordelia casually plunked down her tiles: N-O-P-E.
"I thought slang wasn't permitted," remarked Wesley.
"Any word is permitted," hissed Cordelia. "Unless my opponent
challenges it. Do you challenge it, Angel?"
"No, not at all," he stammered. "Far be it from me to begrudge
you the...nine...points in question. Has a nice ring to it.
Very...inventive."
"All right then," she smirked. "Your turn."
"One question," he said quickly. "Before we go back to the game.
Am I...on the right track here? I mean, am I even close to figuring
out..."
Her frown softened the tiniest bit: he was making an effort. "Your
turn," she repeated quietly.
Wesley gave him an encouraging nod, and he chattered absently as he fiddled
with the letters. "I mean, I know she's not a quitter," he mused.
"But still, the acting...it just doesn't seem worth it. I mean, what
benefit could she possibly be getting from being treated like crap and coming
back from every audition feeling like...wow, I really can't do any better than
a nine-pointer here, can you believe that?"
Four letters: H-E-L-L.
Cordelia sighed. "I guess I can't be angry, not really. I mean, how can I
expect a vampire to understand? Acting...it was gonna be my normal life, you
know? People were going to like me. I was going to once again be rich and
popular, and god help me, normal. Yeah, it hasn't quite worked out that way.
Yeah, that commercial was one of the most degrading experiences of the year, aw
heck, of the decade, of the millennium, of...forever, practically. But I still
have to keep trying, Angel. Can't you see why it's still so important to
me?"
Twenty-two points, cascading ironically off the end of Angel's 'hell':
D-R-E-A-M-S.
He saw it now, so clearly that he wondered how he ever missed it. "Cordelia..."
"You understand, don't you?" she said softly. "Maybe...maybe I
just haven't had the right audition yet. Maybe the right agent, the right
director just hasn't come along. I can't believe they're all like that, Angel.
I can't believe that the only higher power that will ever meddle in my life is
the one that sends me visions. If I stop, it's like admitting that there will
never be anything more to my life than monsters and visions and death and slime
and..."
"There IS more than that," he choked. "I never meant to
undermine you, Cordelia. I've always believed in you. You...you're my best
friend, Cordelia, you're my..."
He slapped down the first five tiles he picked up: J-E-W-E-L.
She swallowed a ragged breath, eyes glowing tearfully. "I just...I'm sorry
I over-reacted, Angel, I just...I was having a hard enough time with the whole
acting thing, the last thing I needed was you guys giving up on me."
The letters fell limply from her hand: H-E-L-P.
As he took her hand, the game forgotten, he accidentally knocked over his rack
of tiles. Seven letters spilled unremarkably onto the floor, unnoticed:
F-O-R-E-V-E-R.
The end
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