Queen Of Sorrow by Lara
Summary: A post-RoF short from Cordelia's point of view.
Spoilers: Rain Of Fire, Season Four.
Notes: A continuation of Pain and Ashes. Please be kind...
//I
don't need you...//
Cordelia closed her
eyes, trying to block out those four words. Her breathing came in gasps as she continued to cry.
The sheets were torn off the mattress as soon as she came back to the loft
and thrown to the side. Her nails dug into the old mattress as the
sobs ran through her body.
She felt dirty. She
felt like dying.
She felt like a moron.
The world didn't end.
Nothing happened. Her life wasn't over.
Her life *was* over.
He hated her. She saw
it in his eyes. The hurt. The fear. The pain. The anger. It all merged into the one thing that
drove people into destruction. Hate. He hated her with his heart and with
his soul. Nothing could change that.
Cordelia felt a hand
on her shoulder. Her head lifted ever so slightly. The hand was cold. She slowly turned
towards the person. "Ang-" She stopped herself, staring
into blue eyes. Not brown. She sat up, moving away from Angel's son.
"Connor."
"Cordelia."
Concern filled his eyes as he sat next to her. "Are you alright? You left in a hurry and I could barely
keep up-" His eyes narrowed. "What did he do to you?"
"Who."
"My father."
His father.
She smiled bitterly.
*Now* he starts calling Angel his father. "Nothing. He didn't do
anything." He moved closer to her, and she moved back. His hand went to hold hers, and
she pushed it away. "Connor. I'm fine."
The boy looked at her.
"You've been crying. What's wrong?"
Shaky hands wiped at
damp skin. "N-Nothing. I just...I miss my apartment." She lied. She was such a fake.
His eyes lit up
slightly. "You still have an apartment? Can I go see it?"
Cordelia closed her
eyes painfully. "I don't have it anymore. Angel had to rent it out." She sighed. "I was
gone for a long...he couldn't pay for it anymore."
"But you can get
it back." She stared at him, not sure if it was a question or a suggestion. "Right?"
"No. People live
in there. It would be wrong." A lot of things were wrong. She slowly slid off the bed, standing on
her toes as she stretched her legs. "I'm gonna go shower.
Okay?"
He stood as well.
"I could...join you." He offered. The seductive tone that should have accompanied those four
words was instead given in an unsure, almost childish manner.
God help her.
The Seer stared at him
incredulously. Where did he learn to say something like that? She had never gotten like
that around Angel and unless it was Gunn and Fred...of course. She lowered
her gaze. "No."
Connor didn't try to
hide the hurt. He remained silent for a moment. "Why."
She walked across the
room towards the shower. "Because I don't love you." She replied, delivering the line as
icy as she could before disappearing. She heard him exhale sharply before
leaving the loft. She felt horrible. Another person hurt by her. At least
she kept it in the family.
Cordelia walked to the
small makeshift stall, turning the knob around. The tiny room was cold, and her jaw
clenched as her hand moved under the running water. The water was either hot
or cold. There was no in between. Hopefully she would get
blessed.
Hot.
Lucky her.
She stripped her
clothes off, dropping them to the frosty floor. She walked over to her radio resting on the window
still, and turned it on. Some song her mother used to listen to. But it
wasn't Stevie Nicks this time. Someone re-did it.
A smile appeared on
her face for a mere moment. All the things that had happened in the past night and all she
thought of was a stupid song. There was the old Cordelia.
Queen C.
Queen Bitch.
She stepped into the
stall, letting the hot water hit her. It didn't seem so hot then. More like lukewarm. Her head
dropped back, the water running down her face. Down her neck. Down her
body.
She could still feel
his hands on her. His clumsy hands. His various attempts to get a reaction out of her during it
were nearly laughable, and she didn't even bother to help him out.
He had moved and touched as gracelessly as humanly possible. His
hands fumbled over her body as he traveled up on top of her. His lips
had tried desperately to meet hers in some sort of gentle,
innocent embrace- and she didn't allow it. So he kept trying as he moved.
His attempts at pleasuring her were so bumbling and uncertain.
He didn't take after
his father in that.
He didn't have the
same light feel. The same tantalizing movements. The same slightly overconfident attitude of a man
who has had years of experience.
She was wrong. He
wasn't like his father. It didn't run in the family.
Deep in her mind, she
was hoping Connor would resemble his father in every way. Not that it could've made what she did
any more excusable. Nor would it have made her feel any better.
It wasn't Connor's
fault. He wasn't the one who started it. She did.
What was she thinking?
Cordelia herself
didn't know what went through her mind that night. It sure as hell wasn't "Hey, the world is
ending- let's fuck!"
Far from it.
Her behavior was
unforgivable. She had told a man she loved him and always would. Then she slept with his son. She
didn't even know why.
She saw Angelus. She
saw him for what he really was. Not what Angel had told her or what she had seen in Sunnydale.
It wasn't watered down this time. It was up close and in living color.
She was there and she was terrified.
She saw what Angelus
could and would do to her if she had the chance.
She saw the hurt on
Angel's face when she told them they couldn't be together.
The New Cordelia
couldn't give in to her emotions and desires. The New Cordelia needed to be strong and focused.
The New Cordelia
sucked.
Cordelia felt the
tears begin again and she struggled to stop them. Her hand blindly reached for the shampoo bottle
on the floor next to the shower stall. She found it, bringing it into the
shower. One finger opened the top,
and her hand opened to pour the thick liquid. And she stopped.
She dropped the
bottle, stepping out of the shower. Her head poked into the other room, looking around for any sign
of Connor. When she didn't see him, she dashed across the room. The cold
air hit her wet and very naked body, and her jaw once again clenched
tightly. She reached the pile of boxes that held her belongings and
shuffled through them.
Clothes. Jewelry.
Journals. Pictures. Shoes. Books. Undergarments.
A black box.
Cordelia grinned and
plucked the box from the pile. Clairol hair color. Chocolate brown. She remembered Angel
saying he liked that color on her. Her natural color.
So be it.
She nearly slipped as
she ran back to the room. Her hands shook slighty as she opened the box and emptied the
contents onto the floor. She hesitated, and then dove in. The plastic
gloves were placed on her wet hands. The contents were opened and
mixed. The dye was placed in her hair.
She paced impatiently
as she waited for the time to pass. Her hands fumbled nervously while she walked around the
bathroom. She passed the small mirror Connor had stole for her and stopped.
Her eyes focused on her body.
What was it about her
that caused father and son to stare at her like she was some goddess? What was it about her that
made them go to great lengths to please her?
She didn't care.
That Cordelia sucked.
Cordelia glanced at
her watch and jumped to the shower. It was time. She washed the dye hastily from her hair and
scrubbed at her body simultaneously. She kept washing herself until she felt
fully satisfied.
Not clean. She would
never be clean.
The woman stepped out
of the shower, grabbing the scratchy towel and drying herself. It left a certain amount of
irritation on her skin, but she didn't care. She massaged her mane as she
walked into the other room.
New clothes were put
on. Blue jeans. Simple white shirt. Plain black boots.
The towel rubbed at
her hair. She tried to dry it as fast as she could. Rough material against soft locks. The old
Cordelia would never let such a towel touch her hair.
This wasn't the old
Cordelia. It wasn't the new Cordelia either.
She was going to show
Angel.
Her feet thumped
against the wooden floor as she ran across the room to the bathroom. Her head appeared in front of
the mirror. Chin length dark hair. Pale skin. No makeup. Dark, dead,
dull eyes.
Cordelia smiled,
trying to force her eyes to light up. Nothing happened. The grin disappeared.
She let out a shaky
sigh, pushing her damp hair from her eyes. "C'mon, Cor..." She mumbled,
straightening up in front of the mirror. "Smile. Smile, smile, smile."
She tried once more, her lips parting and her teeth showing. Nothing happened.
The smile faded.
"Dammit."
She closed her eyes.
//I always wanted to
be a prince...//
The smile slowly crept
on her face. She opened her eyes. For a mere moment, she saw herself three years ago. Back
when she was still somewhat innocent. Back when she could make find the
bright side in anything. Back when her sole purpose was to make Angel
smile and that was it.
Back when she wasn't
stupid and pitiful.
Back when Angel didn't
look at her like a demon he had to kill.
Cordelia lowered her
gaze, the grin long gone. She left the bathroom and walked back to the other room. She strolled
aimlessly around the loft, not knowing what to do. She could go back to the
hotel and try to deal with Angel and the guilt or stay there and deal
with a young boy who knew nothing about anything.
Either way she lost.
Her chin started to
tremble as she sank to the mattress.
They were all going to
hate her. No matter her hair color.
Her hands started to
comb through her locks, trying to calm the fly- aways. Maybe Angel would see her and see how she
wanted things to be back to normal. How she wanted to become his devoted
Seer again. How she wanted him.
He wouldn't see.
Cordelia wiped her
eyes roughly, sniffling slightly. Her life was over and there was nothing she could do to change
that. She messed up. Big time.
Nothing would change
that.
He hated her.
"Cordelia?"
She looked up, seeing
Connor's lean frame in front of her. "Y-Yes."
He stared at her hard,
his eyes on her hair. "What did you do?"
"Dyed it."
His face told her he didn't know what she was talking about. She smiled slightly. "I...I put it
back to the original color. Like in the pictures?"
The boy smiled
slightly. "Oh." His face turned serious. "You don't love me."
Guilt filled Cordelia.
There was so much hurt and puzzlement in those words. She didn't even have to try to read his
blank expression. How could she say that to him? "I'm sorry...I didn't
mean that."
"You do love
me?"
"Not the way you
want, Connor." Her voice grew firmer with each word. "I love your father that way. Not
you."
Connor frowned, anger
filling his eyes. "Then why did we...why did you-"
"I don't
know." She interrupted, her eyes meeting his. It took all her strength not to look away. "It was a
terrible, terrible mistake and it won't happen again." He didn't answer her,
just continued to stare. "Do you understand, Connor? It won't happen
again." After a long minute, he nodded. She nodded in return.
"Good. I'm glad we understand each other."
He lowered his gaze.
"Did you change your hair for him?"
Cordelia froze, trying
to think of an acceptable answer. "No." Such a fake.
"He will like
it." Connor muttered, keeping his eyes purposefully on the ground. "He would like any color on your
hair."
She lowered her eyes
to the floor as well. She could hear all the pain and confusion in his voice that had
controlled Angel's just hours before. And she didn't know how to react.
She could try to
comfort him. But then he might take it the wrong way.
She could try to
console him with words. But that might be too cruel.
Finally, she touched
his hand lightly. His head jerked up. "I care for you, Connor." She whispered. "But I
can't hurt Angel. Not anymore."
He stepped back.
"Then go to him."
Cordelia stood, her
heart almost breaking. He was nearly shaking with pain, and she could do nothing to comfort him.
"Connor-"
"GO to him."
She hesitated, the
tears threatening to rise yet again. Finally, she nodded and left the loft and left the boy she had
felt the need to watch over and to protect. It wasn't her job anymore.
She climbed down the
metal ladder as quickly as she could, the bars cold and almost slippery. She had to go to Angel.
She wasn't alone.
Her feet hit the
ground steadily and she ran out into the street. The streets were dark and empty. Nothing but
smothering craters and destroyed cars. She had to go to the hotel and see
Angel. She wasn't alone.
She jogged down a few
blocks before stopped in her tracks.
Cordelia Chase had
nowhere to go.
She was alone.
End.
Contact Lara