Cordelia sighed contently as she gazed out towards the azure waters of Santa Monica Bay, the wind twirling tendrils of her chocolate brown hair maniacally in all directions. At that moment, gazing out into the vast expanse of the ocean, drinking in the deliciously salt-scented tang of the slightly chilly night air, she found herself supremely content with life. Despite the visions, and the no-money situation, Cordelia Chase felt truly happy.
She turned and took in the profile of her companion beside her. In that moment of crystal stillness, with his perfectly sculpted hair being buffeted slightly by the breeze and his expressive eyes gazing fixedly out into the vast expanse of nothing, she felt that she could truly understand Angel for the very first time - an old soul trapped within the confines of his demonic vessel, a young man who hadn't known to cherish life until that fateful night when he had made a wrong choice ... and now he was here with her, two hundred whatever years later, atoning for his sins. For past wrongs that he had no control over but nevertheless shared the pain of guilt; the guilt and blood of maybe thousands of innocent lives ...
Angel sensed her gazing at him and returned it. For a moment the silence lingered ... and then the tranquillity was broken.
"What are you thinking about?"
She smiled mischievously at him. "Just wondering what you were like when you were my age. You know, like a few hundred years younger than what you are now."
He protested, "Cordy, I'm only 248!" He glanced around quickly to ensure that there were no errant passers-by. "And you wouldn't have liked me back then."
"Why?" Cordelia was definitely curious about what a young, totally inexperienced and innocent Angel was like. The only thing she could imagine about his life back then were the tights. Didn't guys wear tights back then? Hmmm. Angel in tights ...
"Well ..." Angel leaned on the railing, cupping his hands together. "I wasn't very nice ... to women."
"What did you do?"
"It wasn't what I did, but ... what I didn't do. You know, treat them nice."
"So you were like, one of those 'I'm going to call you tomorrow but what I really mean is I'll never think of you again' guys? Except ... without the actual calling, since phones were probably not invented yet."
"Ah ... something like that." Angel fidgeted as he kept his gaze firmly plastered on his hands in front of him. Frankly, he hadn't wanted to reveal to Cordy what kind of a person he had been back then. He knew it had nothing to do with the person he was now, but somehow he didn't want to give Cordy another reason to not like him, now that the whole Darla thing was cleared up.
"Angel." Her voice swept him out of his reverie. "You were a good person, right? I mean ... you didn't kill anyone or anything ... went to um, you guys went to church right? I mean, back then with all the ... churches ... and stuff."
He inhaled deeply. Cordelia seemed to want to know more about him, and ... maybe it was the scenery, the tranquillity of the cool night air, or maybe it was Cordelia herself, willing him to open himself up to her - but he actually found that he could. Talk about that human boy called Liam, about his life, his painful memories. "Well, to quote my father - I was a 'drunken, whoring layabout'. To be honest Cordy I wasn't much good to any one back then. I was ... I wasted a lot of time."
Cordelia took it in, wondering how far she could push him until he clamped up. In truth she found it fascinating - that Angel had lived for so long, had been born in a world so different from the one she had been born in.
"But ... you loved your family, right?" She turned around and held his gaze. "Sure you were all drunk half the time and useless around the house and stuff - what guy isn't? But ... if anybody wanted to hurt them you'd ..."
"Yeah." He paused, idly observing his cold fingers clamp and unclamp with tension. "I loved them. They were my family you know ..." And he had killed them, he added silently.
Cordelia saw the hallowed pain in his eyes and instinctively reached out to him, placing a smooth hand gently on his clamped fingers. She wanted to say so much at that moment; to let him know that she could understand how much pain and wrong he had done and wouldn't hold it against him. To reassure him that no matter what had happened or what would happen she would always be there with him. Being his friend.
Angel looked with slight wonder at the stunning beauty standing beside him, the light from the pier reflecting in her expressive orbs. His heart finally caught a fleeting glimpse of what it was to know unconditional love and trust; to finally sense that no matter how imperfect he was there was still one person in his life who would be willing to forgive everything and be there for him.
He let his hands unclasp and placed one of them on top of Cordelia's, feeling the warmth and comfort from her permeate his cold, lifeless skin. He realised that this was what Cordelia's presence in his life felt like - the warmth from her soul permeating the cold ineptness of his. That delicious touch, that laugh, that smile. That soul.
"And what about you Cordy?" He asked a touch inquisitively.
"What about me?"
"I mean, what about your family?" He paused as he drew his jacket further around him. "You never talk about them."
Cordelia inhaled deeply and decided to let go of the false bravado she usually put on whenever she had to talk about her parents. There was just too much baggage, and too little time to deal. Besides ... it wasn't really all that interesting.
"What's to tell? I'm an only child, daddy 'forgot' to pay his taxes for like, twelve years, meaning that instead of me going from home, hotel, hotel, husband, I get to past Go from home, work, fame and hopefully, husband. Nothing much to it really."
Angel had long known that Cordelia was usually reserved about her family, but he had only just realised how sensitive she was about the subject. He cursed himself silently that it had taken him this long to realise it, to realise that he wasn't the only one in the universe who had the market cornered for sensitive pasts. Cordelia was only twenty and yet she had always been able to pass herself off with the maturity of someone much older, and Angel had never wondered how she had come to arrive at that point.
"But ..." How could he frame it without sounding like he was needlessly pushing her? " ... what was growing up ... for you ... like?"
Cordelia sighed. Angel evidently wanted the whole sordid family history, and since that he had already given her his family saga she felt that she couldn't bail on him. After all, fair was fair.
"Okay. You want to know what the deal is?" Angel nodded. "The deal is that until I was seven things were great. Daddy was nice, mom was nice ... even Rosario the maid was nice." Cordelia sighed. "She's still nice." She looked away for a moment, steeling herself to expose that part of her that not many people had had the privilege of seeing before. The part of her that was vulnerable, scared and insecure. Which was precisely the reason why Cordelia hardly ever let her out on day trips.
"What happened ... when you were seven?"
Cordelia let her gaze fall back onto Angel's expressive eyes. "Barbie number one came. And mom thought the best way to deal was with a few guys of her own. You know ... Jim Beam, Jack's ..." She tried to rein in the bitterness in her tone. "Meanwhile I grew up. I grew smart ... I learnt that the best way to get what I wanted was to play hardball with Daddy ..." She gulped. "To get all the things I thought I wanted. The car ... the clothes ..." She smiled ruefully at Angel, an empathetic expression diffusing over his face. "I think what I wanted most was their attention, you know?"
Angel couldn't help it, he just had to hug her. No matter how strong Cordelia was, even she needed someone to lean on once in a while. And Angel didn't mind at all if he was the 'lean on' guy for Cordy. "You'll always have my attention Cordy."
Cordelia revelled in the comfort of Angel's embrace before deftly disentangling herself. "Well on the bright side, if Daddy had never forgotten to pay his taxes I'd never have come to LA and known how lame your singing actually is."
"It's not that bad."
"And I would never have known my best friend."
Angel paused, happily absorbing that reality. "I'm glad ..." He stuck his hands back into his pockets. "Say, isn't it time for that double choc chip mint fudge now?"
"You tell me broody boy, you're buying."
"Come on." He grabbed her hand, playfully tugging her along the length of the pier. "So, I heard from Lorne the other day that you actually wanted to sing 'Xanadu'. Cordy ..." He looked at her, his face melting into Cordelia's favourite Angel puppy dog expression, "How could you?"
She was ready for him. "Oh don't start with me Mr 'I'm so cool I always want to sing Barry Manilow'. What was the deal with Coco Cabana? I knew you like Manilow and all but ... couldn't you have just given it a rest for one night?"
"I happen to like --" Angel was interrupted by an eruption of Cordelia's giggling. It burst from her like sunshine after rain. "I happen to like ... the words."
Cordelia giggled even harder, and after an interminable few minutes Angel found himself joining her. Why did she always have this effect on him?
Not that he minded ... really.
Hyperion | C/A Episode Guide | Allegiance | Belonging | Evidence
Links | Contact(c) Vivian Ngan June 2001