Fic Commentary for "A Simple Choice"
Fic commentary on A Simple Choice, as requested by snowpuppies. The original fic is included, with my babble commentary in blockquotes.
The prompt for this fic was Cordy/Eve, from the good__evil Love is Everywhere Fest. Out of the pairings I rolled, the only other one I had considered doing was Illyria/Buffybot, mostly just for the ridiculousness of it all. (And the whole, we wear the face of someone we’re not, thing.) But in the end, I’m glad I went with this one instead.
“I’ll only be a moment.” The words left Cordelia in a kind of choked exhale, and at Angel’s expression she forced a smile and cleared her throat, repeating the phrase with as much reassurance as she could muster. She must have been convincing, and maybe she should have been an actress after all, because it only took a few more, warm words and a second later he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
She'd been trailing after Angel towards his office, just for a moment, just long enough for him to get his coat, before they met the rest of the gang for a celebration drink. Both of them had been all victorious smiles and affectionate brushes. They’d saved the day; they’d cracked the books and beat the baddy, and it was just like old times.
Just like old times, before she’d been possessed and had watched her body do things that would haunt her forever. Before she’d gone comatose. Before she’d died.
They’d moved out of the hall and into the conference room that linked to Angel’s office. The vampire had already stepped past the threshold into the other room, into the office, when he paused. She hadn’t followed, so he turned those big, dark eyes on her, deep with worry in that way that made her knees want to buckle, and her hands want to pet down that stupid, spiky hair of his in soothing strokes until he knew everything was going to be okay. Made her want to tell him that she was going to take care of him now, tell him that she was never going to leave.
Cordelia Chase was a lot of things, but liar wasn’t one of them.
That’s probably one of my favorite things about Cordelia’s character - she may not have always been tactful, she may not have always been sweet, but she was always honest. Not necessarily because she was virtuous, but because at her core she was simply a crappy liar. (Which, could potentially explain the bad acting.)
So she could only tell him to go on, and to lose the frown, Tiger, because she'd only be a moment. The corners of his lips twitched up in a little smile, and then the door was clicking shut behind him, and leaving her alone with the background noise of people passing in the hall.
When I actually thought the episode through, the only time period I could think of in which both Cordelia and Eve could potentially be alone together, without running around doing other things, was this. Right before the big dramatic kiss, and the phone call.
In his absence the room suddenly felt extraordinarily large, and empty. Her eyes wandered the walls absently, and she found a painting of a large, picturesque, snow-covered castle. A faint smile curved the corners of her lips, and she was reminded keenly of a long forgotten image, a picture of a castle from one of her childhood story books.
When Cordelia was younger; her favorite story had been Cinderella. Of course, she laughed at the whole concept now, but she’d spent a good portion of her life harboring the hope that someone strong and handsome would carry her off into the sunset, to someplace far away. Far from the hellmouth she had grown up on, far from the absent parents and the IRS, and far the demons that had picked off a good third of her graduating class. She had wanted someone to sweep her off her feet and rescue her, wanted someone to save her from everything.
One of the most fun things about Cordelia’s character was that we got to see her grow from being the complete picture of annoying-damsel-in-distress, to her own hero. Which, I felt like, was a fairly realistic transformation, considering it took her three years in Sunnydale, and another three in LA to really get there. (We’re going to ignore Cordelia’s overly-heroic, to the point of uncharacteristic, arc in season three, where she actually lectured Angel about money. Pffft!)
She had looked for that someone, she’d looked hard. In fact, she’d looked so very hard that she’d found nearly a fourth of the varsity football team, around a fifth of the varsity cheer squad, a vampire slayer’s cheating side-kick, and a man who got her six months pregnant overnight. And the best part was, it was only when she called it quits and stopped looking that the prince charmings started falling into her lap. Though of course, to verify the theory that her love life was the universe’s big joke, both of them wound up being dead - the first in the more traditional, actually-no-longer-on-this-plane-because-I’m-a-stupid-Irish-man-and-sacrificed-my-life-for-you, sense, and one in the look-out-I-bite sense.
It’s remarkable how crappy Cordelia’s luck really was, romantically. Personally, I think she would have had much better luck if she had just gone ahead and seduced Fred, like we all know she wanted to. I’m just saying.
Either way, this whole getting swept of her feet thing was probably only happening if the janitor accidentally tripped her with the broom - especially now that she only had, presuming The-Powers-That-Screw-You were keeping a tight schedule, around another twenty minutes to live.
Twenty minutes. Some fairytale she lived in.
She looked down at her hands, long, polished nails glinting in the light, and flexed her fingers, realizing with a frown that this could very well be the last time she was corporeal. A second later she was pressing the very tips of her fingertips to the glass wall in front of her, eyes on the view of the city streets below the Wolfram and Hart, LA branch. All the people looked so very small from far away, like ants. Slowly she pressed her palms down into the glass, and the surface was smooth and cool, and reminded keenly of perfectly pale, icy skin; skin like she’d felt when Angel had walked through the hospital door and held her, their cheeks brushing for one, perfect second - a second where she could almost forget about the body on the bed behind her.
In a way, she’d gotten her fairytale after all. She’d been pulled from a body that was going nowhere, and gotten to walk through the world she wanted; but only until the clock struck twelve. Until her glass slippers faded away and her carriage became a pumpkin, and her tall, dark and handsome prince would be left with empty arms, wondering why his princess had been replaced with a phone call from the hospital, asking him whether she would have wanted a traditional burial, or cremation.
"I like the shoes.” A voice from the hall doorway behind her rung out, light and female, and Cordelia spun on her heel to find Eve standing behind her, lips in a little frown. "Think they've got Versace in the afterlife? Cause, I kind of doubt it."
So, starting out, the only thing I could remember about the Cordy and Eve interaction was that it was only one episode long, and that Cordelia had threatened to shove a pair of shoes down Eve’s throat. Which, while making for a hilarious mental image, didn’t exactly make for a likely pairing. But, I also remembered Cordy calling Eve Lilah-Junior (which completely made my day - since that was actually a nick-name I’d given her at the very start of the season), and that made me think of how I would pair Cordy and Lilah together in the same situation.
Lilah would try to seduce her into working for Wolfram & Hart, of course. So, presumably Lilah-Junior would try to do the same. (Of course, if it were actually Lilah doing the seductive convincing, I’d imagine it might have had a better chance of working - since they’d teamed up before against Billy, and Lilah seems to be a better negotiator than Eve, as well as being, in my opinion, much more seductive.)
Cordelia’s hand found its place on her hip, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the window. ”Haven’t you taken enough abuse for one day? Because I’ve gotta tell ya, I think me handing your boyfriend over to his demonic, royally pissed off ex-bosses and dragging you around by your earlobe is more than your share. Not really fair of you to hog my aggression, when there are so many other deserving subjects.” She gestured absently towards several other, presumably evil Wolfram and Hart employee’s whose heels clicked as they passed by the room, Cordelia’s gaze moving back down to catch on the different colored specs that moved like ants on the street, twelve stories below.
"The senior Partners have told me a lot about you, Cordelia.” Lilah-Junior was next to her now, looking out the window, her slim, manicured hands folded mildly behind her. Cordelia hated lawyers, because they had near-permanent poker faces, because their voices were annoyingly even, and because what she needed was some peace and quiet, not a devil talking in her ear. “I know what's waiting for you in Angel’s office."
Cordelia answered dryly, "A Lamborghini?"
"Hardly."
"How about a vacation for two?"
The other woman’s head cocked, eyebrows raised and voice flat, "Death."
I actually wrote almost the entire dialogue out for this fic in one sitting - which was really nice, since normally it takes me a lot longer than that. I was just laying in the bath (my place of thinky goodness) wondering how the hell I was going to pair those two up, and suddenly, ding! Like a little light bulb. I literally scrambled out of the tub, and stood soaking wet, dripping all over my floor, as I hovered over my desk and scribbled the basic arc of the conversation down. It wasn’t until I had a good few pages down, and half a dozen arrows and circles re-arranging everything, that I finally went back, and rinsed the bubbles out of my hair..
"Technically,” Cordelia flexed her fingers again absently, “I’m already dead.” Though for a temporary reflection of her real body; the skin she wore now was incredibly convincing. Everything felt perfectly normal, perfectly healthy; almost, as if she had never died at all. “But if the Senior Partners know so much about what's coming for me, then you already knew that."
There was a pause, then Eve’s voice was back, close to her ear. "You don't have to be."
And Cordelia couldn’t help it, her eyes widened and she was staring now, staring at Eve’s lips as she continued, slender arms folded over a blouse that made the most of a small bust. "Your soul is still on this plane. We can harness it, give you a new body - or, well..” Cordelia was blinking now, because either it was her imagination, or the other woman had just given her the up-down, ”your old one restored, anyway. No point in downgrading."
Might as well start the flirting out early - and hey, Eve isn’t lying. Cordelia looked fantastic in that episode.
The other woman’s gaze locked with hers, eyes big and green and surprisingly bright from all the light that poured in through the clear wall; and if Cordelia hadn’t known better, she might have thought the other woman’s furrowed brow was sign of sympathy. Cordelia folded her arms over her chest, lifting an eyebrow pointedly. ”And let me guess, all I have to pay is the small fee of my eternal soul? Or maybe, ten virgin sacrifices?"
I wanted to make sure it seemed like Cordelia could see through Eve’s bullshit right away, snarking back, and even outright mocking her. But as the argument went on, and became more convincing, more tempting, I wanted her comebacks to get less and less sure. There’s that old phrase, about time being the enemy of logic, and when somebody is talking you in circles, especially somebody who works for a law firm, it’s completely true. If they can build a good enough argument against you, it can really blur everything up, and twist around logic in a way that makes a person really susceptible to emotion.
Eve wasn’t looking at her anymore, she’d moved across the room to meet a man that stepped in through the open hall-door, only long enough to hand Eve a paper and pen, before darting back out. Eve closed the door behind him, moving to lean against a desk several feet away, eyes moving over the paper in her hand as she answered absently, "No, nothing like that.” She was uncapping the pen now, the tip of it lingering someplace near the bottom of the page as she added with a glance, “Although if you don't believe me, I'm sure your friends would be happy to help you read over the fine print."
"Senior Partners give you your name, Eve?” Cordelia’s lips were a thin line, trying hard to purge her expression of curiosity. “Seems too fitting to be coincidence. Don't have an apple on your person, do you?"
”No,” The pen in Eve’s hand made a brief scratching noise as she trailed it over the page, before dropping it without ceremony, and crossing the room on long, shapely legs. “I’ve something much better."
As the conversation goes on, I wanted Cordelia to start noticing little things about Eve - legs, eyes, lips, all things Eve is surely trying her hardest to flaunt, and things that will make her proposition that much more attractive.
She held out the paper out, out of her reach, but just near enough that Cordelia could clearly make out the words, ‘Employment Contract’ at the top. Instantly Cordelia’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back, hands jerking as if to shove it away. "If you think for one second that I'm signing that little death-trap-"
"It's not for you." The smaller woman’s fingers tapped at the bottom of the page, where a signature already sat on top of the dotted line, the still-wet ink slanting across the contract in tiny, unreadable cursive. "It's mine, accepting my new job as your personal assistant."
"So this is what, your last ditch effort to not get beheaded by your bosses for teaming up with that tattooed boy-toy of yours? What kind of hell do you think he’s in, anyway?” Cordelia’s arms folded back over her chest, leaning her shoulders against the glass wall behind her. “Think the Senior Partners will give him his own, personalized hell, or it will be something generic? My vote is on a big pit of fire. Classic.”
As Cordelia starts to feel herself actually considering it, she’s going to lash out at Eve personally. In this case, knowing nothing about Eve herself, the best she can do is talk about Lindsey.
Of course, Eve knows better than to even acknowledge the personal shot, and by-passes it completely.
Eve was folding up her own contract neatly, tucking it away into her back pocket. "Think about this for a second, Cordelia.” Those green eyes were on her again, unwavering, and the other woman’s tone was soft like understanding, “For starters, you won't die - kind of enough reason in and of itself - but on top of that you'll have access to all of Wolfram and Hart's resources." Then the eyes in front of her were blinking one too many times, almost as if the dark lashes were being fluttered in her direction purposefully, and Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder if Eve counted as a resource. “That means everything you need to go shoe shopping or to save the world, it's really up to you.”
Eve starts playing up the sympathy card subtly - soft tone, sad eyes, like she actually really cares about what’s going to happen to Cordelia, as one human being to another. And, not knowing anything about Eve, a performance like that might be fairly believable.
Cordelia couldn’t help but let her eyes wander down to her wrist, even as she felt Eve watch her. Watch her checking the time, watch the panic flash in her eyes as she registered: fifteen minutes.
I’ve always thought that knowing the exact time that you were going to die would have to be one of the most terrifying things imaginable, and here would add serious pressure and leverage to Eve’s argument.
"If you're offering me a job, I'd like to remind you that I have one.” Cordelia slid her wrist behind her back, out of view. “I'm contracted with the Powers; you know, seer for the forces of good and all. I'm pretty sure that kind of thing doesn't mesh with pushing papers at Evil Incorporated.”
Cordelia’s back-lashing starts getting weaker as she starts feeling out Eve’s argument instead of directly rejecting it. By pointing out its flaws, she more or less prompts Eve to argue back against them, almost as if she’s hoping Eve can explain them away.
"A job with the Powers that you didn't volunteer for,” She had hardly finished her sentence when Eve’s tone struck up again, low and serious. “And what have they done for you? Rewarded your service -years of visions that literally tore your brain apart- by letting you be possessed by something truly evil? By letting your body rot in a coma until you died?" Eve suddenly felt very close to her, close enough that Cordelia was suddenly very aware of her own breathing, and the breathing of the woman in front of her as Eve spoke, her tone a low, ardent whisper. "You call us evil, but who do you think are the bad guys here? The Powers that have every intention of letting you walk through that door for one last kiss before shipping your soul off and out of the way, out of their way because they're done toying with you? Who are letting you die when they have every bit of power to restore your body?" Cordelia only had a second to wonder if Eve knew how the visions were passed, if she’d put two and two together, before the other woman’s hand drew her attention elsewhere, fingertips touching up the outside of her forearm only for a second; the stroke brief enough that Cordelia didn’t have time to object, but gently enough, warmly enough that the touch felt like empathy, and seemed to linger. "Haven't you given enough for them, enough that you deserve the last years of your life?”
Here Eve quickly takes the cue, and jumps on the opportunity to lay out all the wrong the Powers That Be have done to Cordelia, and at the same time, takes the chance to invade Cordelia’s personal space, and breach the no-touch boundary with a quick brush.
"Last years of my life?” Cordelia turned her head away, eyes fixed on the office doorway, “Now you're just making me sound old." Then her eyes were closing, staring at the back of her eyelids, staring into the black. "It's not about what I deserve." If it was, there really would be a Lamborghini on the other side of that door, filled with purses and shoes every color of the rainbow and one hell of a chocolate cake. If it were about what she deserved, she would get a fucking parade.
Cordelia’s argument really starts to weaken around here, as she falls back on the good old Greater ood explanation. Which, of course, is something vague enough that it’s easy for Eve to twist around.
"You may feel like you're going to die a heroic martyr here, Cordelia, but what will it achieve?" She opened her eyes to see Eve gesturing out the window, indicating the people in the street below, "It's not going to help any one of them, your death. Not having you around to play hero like you did today isn't going to make their lives any better. In fact I'm willing to bet that they'll be worse off without you.” The other woman’s face was solemn, eyes narrowed in concentration as the movement on the street below held her gaze. “How many people do you think you've saved? How many more do you think you could save?"
Like deird1 pointed out, this really does have the same tone as Faith in “Consequences”, and Spike in “Dead Things”. The always convincing, lets-compare-the-numbers argument.
It only took a second of Eve’s eyes on hers for Cordelia’s gaze to shift back down to the street, shift away as the other woman kept talking, hands gesturing emphatically at her side. "Clearly it's not fair to you, killing you off after they screw you over -literally-” Cordelia flinched at the memory. Connor who she’d held as a baby, who was like her kid.. “and it's not fair to your friends. You saw for your own eyes today how much they need this, how much they need you.” Then Eve’s voice was another octave lower, softer. “How much he needs you."
Now Eve’s really going for the heart - the very reason Cordelia feels like her sacrifice is important, to help the man she loves.
Cordelia’s gaze jerked up, catching first on Eve, light brow furrowed and pink lips in a solemn line, and then the office door behind her, the seer’s voice leaving her with much more emotion than she had intended, "Angel-"
"Can handle himself?” Eve was shaking her head, “Oh, yeah. That's why you and me and everyone else here can tell he's struggling just to get up in the morning. He doesn't understand the good he's doing by being here, he doesn't see. People like Angel need to see the blood and the tears, needs to come home bruised and battered to know that he's doing good, that he’s helping; but people like you and I.." There was the soft brush of fingertips on her arm again, and then Eve‘s eyes had caught hers, holding her gaze, "We can see beyond that." Eve tilted her head back down to look over the street below them, and Cordelia’s eyes followed, watching the specks move about their lives, oblivious. "Those 50 people down there, what if there was a fire in the building across the way, and it started to collapse, started to crumble on top of those people down in the street?"
Cordelia paused for a moment, then reflexively re-folded her arms. "Then chances are, some Wolfram and Hart lackeys set it on fire."
"Angel Investigations could never save them all.” Eve pressed on, unabashed, “You, your friends, and Angel, you couldn't save them all, not all at once.” Then those long, prettily manicured hands were gesturing to the walls around them, Eve’s subtly painted eyes deep with frustration, as if she were struggling to get across a simple concept. “But here, you could. You can save exponentially as many lives, even you can't deny that."
The seer’s eyes moved to the office doorway, voice flat. "And you want me to help Angel see that.”
Here’s where Eve starts to see Cordelia as even more than a possible problem, should she die all nobly, and leave Angel with this strengthened sense of right and wrong; she starts to see Cordelia as a possible ally.
"Because it's true."
"Since when do you people give a rat’s ass about what's true?" She’d been aiming for angry, but the words left her in more of a frustrated sigh.
"Since we're under new management.” There was a light, quiet knock at the hall door, and Eve continued speaking as she crossed the room, hips swaying rhythmically with each step. “Your big, heroic hunk of a boyfriend owns this place Cordelia, it's his.” Another paper passed through the doorway into Eve’s hands, and then the door swung shut again, leaving only the noise of Eve’s heels, clicking as she moved back across the room. “It's mindless for him to continue treating this place like something he's fighting against, when this entire company is his tool.”
I have a thing for the clicking of heels. I don’t know why, because in reality I find them to be rather impractical...but I would be *so* seduced by a woman in heels. Thereby, virtually any chance I get, my fics all include clicking heels, generally in the form of Lilah Morgan. Random tidbit..aaanyway..
Cordelia’s eyes caught on the word ‘contract’ on the top of the new paper Eve held, and her arms folded more firmly over her chest, nails digging into her own arms. "Angel’s tool? Oh yeah, and the Senior Partners-“
I just realized that I actually mentioned ‘Angel’s tool’ in there. Oy vay..
"Haven't done a thing to interfere yet, have they?" There was an increasingly quiet, intimate tone to Eve’s voice, "Look, Angel and your friends..they're in it for the long haul. Their contracts are already signed, they've already changed this company into something it's never been before, into something completely new.” Eve was gesturing to Angel’s office door, and Cordelia’s eyes followed. “They're invested in this place, don't you think they could do a better job with you here?"
And Cordelia couldn’t help it, her arms were unfolding and she was looking at her wrist again, frown deepening. Ten minutes.
Again with the time pressure, as Eve plays off the for-the-good-of-your-friends card, and tries to ennoble her cause.
"This can keep you here with him, to help him here on earth - as friend or love, that's completely up to you; you know the risks. We’d never get in the way of that.” There was tentative pause, where Eve set the unsigned contract and pen down on the table beside them, within view and reach. “I'm just here to help you if you need it, if you need help with..anything.." Eve’s eyes were on her again, and her face was tilting up closer to Cordelia’s as she spoke, and the more she heard the other woman’s voice the more Cordelia realized just how sultry Eve’s voice was - feminine, low, and smooth like velvet. "We both know that having you here would help him, help give him the support he needs." Cordelia’s breath hitched at the feel Eve’s hand brushing up the side of her hip, fingertips slipping horizontally to trace along the exposed skin between the belt of her pants and the end of her blouse, "But Angel alone might not be enough to, well.." Dark lashes fluttered, the corners of Eve’s lips twitching up in a smile, "He isn't exactly able to help you with all the things that you might..need." Then Eve’s body was pushing in even closer to hers, their figures pressing together as the smaller woman pushed Cordelia back gently against the glass wall. Slender arms on either side of Cordelia trapped her as hips pressed in against hers, Eve’s fingers moving to trail in one smooth stroke up the outsides of her arms. "I am." Eve's face tilted up, and instinctively Cordelia's face tilted down to meet hers, nearly closing the small gap between them. Eve's word’s came in a hot breath against Cordelia’s lips, a shiver rolling down the length of her body, magnifying the warm sensitivity building between her legs.
After thoroughly picking apart Cordelia’s argument, bulking up her own with a for-the-greater-good spin, and letting the time pressure build till Cordelia’s reserve is all but gone, Eve throws in one last incentive - herself.
And for the second time tonight, Cordelia was drowned in the realization that she was never going to feel anything again; that her skin would never shudder under someone else’s touch like it was then, and that her eyes would never again slide shut, mind’s eye full of what Eve was offering, of what could be. The other woman’s fingers moved to draw Cordelia’s hand up against her, up and over the arch of a slender stomach to cup a small breast through thin layers of fabric, Eve’s fingers resting encouragingly over Cordelia’s, holding her hand in place. Eve’s lips were brushing hers, brushing them in a tempting shadow of a kiss as her voice left her in a whisper, "The Powers That Be aren’t looking out for you, Cordelia.” Then the other woman was pulling away, eyes flickering open to catch on hers, but body leaning back far enough that Eve could lift the contract from the table, and hold it out to her. “And they're not looking out for Angel. If you know anything about their plan for him and for your friends, you know that.”
Instinctively Cordelia reached forward, fingertips brushing over the back of Eve’s hand as the paper passed between them. For a moment their eyes lingered, locked and silent, and then Cordelia’s gaze was moving over the page. Phrases like ‘captured soul’ and ‘restored body’ leapt out at her, Eve’s voice a quiet whisper at her side. “This is a simple choice, Cordelia.” Soft fingertips reached up to trail down her jaw line, then down the side of her neck in a coaxing stroke, “You're not a stupid woman.”
The ‘simple choice’ line was actually the first line I wrote for this fic, in correspondence with the title. I actually start out that way a lot, with a matching line and title, but often times the fic itself turns out different than I had intended, and I end up deleting the line, and giving it a different title. This fic, however, actually turned out exactly how I’d imagined it the first run though - with one not-so-minor change. In my first run-through, Cordelia actually gives in.
For a moment she could feel the other woman’s breath on her collar bone, Eve’s slim, soft body near against her side, and Cordelia’s own eyes slipping shut. Then, "No.” In one smooth motion, Cordelia ripped the paper straight down the middle, dropping the remaining halves to the floor unceremoniously. "You're right. I'm not." Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could see Eve’s eyes light up with alarm as she spoke, “The choice between encouraging Angel to keep on compromising everything that he is, everything that we've all worked for, that some of us have died for-" Her voice cracked, the image of an Irish smile in her mind’s eye. "Between that, and helping the man I love see what is wrong with this place. That the senior partners are playing him,” She brushed past Eve, her heels puncturing the torn paper on the floor as she walked over it, "that this place is not his tool, that he is its tool, that this whole thing is a lie-"
”You’re going to die,” there was a desperate strain to Eve’s voice now, one that was much more genuine than anything Cordelia had heard out of her yet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was the Senior Partners had threatened her with, and how steep the price was for failure. “You’re going to die for the Powers that Be, Cordelia, and you can’t even trust them, you’ve seen that for yourself.”
Now Eve gets to play the desperate one, which is actually, I thought, her best roll in the series. I never really felt much of anything for her until the last episode, when she stood in the crumbling Wolfram & Hart office, looking like she had nothing left to live for.
Cordelia crossed the room, eyes never leaving the office door. Her hand closed around the doorknob in front of her, knuckles white. “It’s not them that I'm trusting.” She’d had enough of Cinderella stories, and enough of waiting to be saved. Her prince had slipped the track, and it was up to her to get him back on it. She trusted him to take it from there. “Everybody dies, Eve.” Her gaze moved down to her wrist for a split second, registering: five minutes. It would be enough. “Some of us just get to say goodbye.”
She took a deep breath, and the door swung shut behind her.
While this fic initially started out as a scheme for me to get Cordy to stay, and throw in a little femslash too, by the time I’d reached the end of their argument, I felt like I’d changed my own mind. Like I understood that her death, a completely uncompromising decision, even after all that had happened to her, to put her faith in her loved ones, was the only thing that could show Angel what was wrong with what they were doing - what was wrong with blurred lines and compromises - and the only thing that could really snap him out of it, and, like Cordy said in “Your Welcome”, remind him who he really is.
The prompt for this fic was Cordy/Eve, from the good__evil Love is Everywhere Fest. Out of the pairings I rolled, the only other one I had considered doing was Illyria/Buffybot, mostly just for the ridiculousness of it all. (And the whole, we wear the face of someone we’re not, thing.) But in the end, I’m glad I went with this one instead.
“I’ll only be a moment.” The words left Cordelia in a kind of choked exhale, and at Angel’s expression she forced a smile and cleared her throat, repeating the phrase with as much reassurance as she could muster. She must have been convincing, and maybe she should have been an actress after all, because it only took a few more, warm words and a second later he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
She'd been trailing after Angel towards his office, just for a moment, just long enough for him to get his coat, before they met the rest of the gang for a celebration drink. Both of them had been all victorious smiles and affectionate brushes. They’d saved the day; they’d cracked the books and beat the baddy, and it was just like old times.
Just like old times, before she’d been possessed and had watched her body do things that would haunt her forever. Before she’d gone comatose. Before she’d died.
They’d moved out of the hall and into the conference room that linked to Angel’s office. The vampire had already stepped past the threshold into the other room, into the office, when he paused. She hadn’t followed, so he turned those big, dark eyes on her, deep with worry in that way that made her knees want to buckle, and her hands want to pet down that stupid, spiky hair of his in soothing strokes until he knew everything was going to be okay. Made her want to tell him that she was going to take care of him now, tell him that she was never going to leave.
Cordelia Chase was a lot of things, but liar wasn’t one of them.
That’s probably one of my favorite things about Cordelia’s character - she may not have always been tactful, she may not have always been sweet, but she was always honest. Not necessarily because she was virtuous, but because at her core she was simply a crappy liar. (Which, could potentially explain the bad acting.)
So she could only tell him to go on, and to lose the frown, Tiger, because she'd only be a moment. The corners of his lips twitched up in a little smile, and then the door was clicking shut behind him, and leaving her alone with the background noise of people passing in the hall.
When I actually thought the episode through, the only time period I could think of in which both Cordelia and Eve could potentially be alone together, without running around doing other things, was this. Right before the big dramatic kiss, and the phone call.
In his absence the room suddenly felt extraordinarily large, and empty. Her eyes wandered the walls absently, and she found a painting of a large, picturesque, snow-covered castle. A faint smile curved the corners of her lips, and she was reminded keenly of a long forgotten image, a picture of a castle from one of her childhood story books.
When Cordelia was younger; her favorite story had been Cinderella. Of course, she laughed at the whole concept now, but she’d spent a good portion of her life harboring the hope that someone strong and handsome would carry her off into the sunset, to someplace far away. Far from the hellmouth she had grown up on, far from the absent parents and the IRS, and far the demons that had picked off a good third of her graduating class. She had wanted someone to sweep her off her feet and rescue her, wanted someone to save her from everything.
One of the most fun things about Cordelia’s character was that we got to see her grow from being the complete picture of annoying-damsel-in-distress, to her own hero. Which, I felt like, was a fairly realistic transformation, considering it took her three years in Sunnydale, and another three in LA to really get there. (We’re going to ignore Cordelia’s overly-heroic, to the point of uncharacteristic, arc in season three, where she actually lectured Angel about money. Pffft!)
She had looked for that someone, she’d looked hard. In fact, she’d looked so very hard that she’d found nearly a fourth of the varsity football team, around a fifth of the varsity cheer squad, a vampire slayer’s cheating side-kick, and a man who got her six months pregnant overnight. And the best part was, it was only when she called it quits and stopped looking that the prince charmings started falling into her lap. Though of course, to verify the theory that her love life was the universe’s big joke, both of them wound up being dead - the first in the more traditional, actually-no-longer-on-this-plane-because-I’m-a-stupid-Irish-man-and-sacrificed-my-life-for-you, sense, and one in the look-out-I-bite sense.
It’s remarkable how crappy Cordelia’s luck really was, romantically. Personally, I think she would have had much better luck if she had just gone ahead and seduced Fred, like we all know she wanted to. I’m just saying.
Either way, this whole getting swept of her feet thing was probably only happening if the janitor accidentally tripped her with the broom - especially now that she only had, presuming The-Powers-That-Screw-You were keeping a tight schedule, around another twenty minutes to live.
Twenty minutes. Some fairytale she lived in.
She looked down at her hands, long, polished nails glinting in the light, and flexed her fingers, realizing with a frown that this could very well be the last time she was corporeal. A second later she was pressing the very tips of her fingertips to the glass wall in front of her, eyes on the view of the city streets below the Wolfram and Hart, LA branch. All the people looked so very small from far away, like ants. Slowly she pressed her palms down into the glass, and the surface was smooth and cool, and reminded keenly of perfectly pale, icy skin; skin like she’d felt when Angel had walked through the hospital door and held her, their cheeks brushing for one, perfect second - a second where she could almost forget about the body on the bed behind her.
In a way, she’d gotten her fairytale after all. She’d been pulled from a body that was going nowhere, and gotten to walk through the world she wanted; but only until the clock struck twelve. Until her glass slippers faded away and her carriage became a pumpkin, and her tall, dark and handsome prince would be left with empty arms, wondering why his princess had been replaced with a phone call from the hospital, asking him whether she would have wanted a traditional burial, or cremation.
"I like the shoes.” A voice from the hall doorway behind her rung out, light and female, and Cordelia spun on her heel to find Eve standing behind her, lips in a little frown. "Think they've got Versace in the afterlife? Cause, I kind of doubt it."
So, starting out, the only thing I could remember about the Cordy and Eve interaction was that it was only one episode long, and that Cordelia had threatened to shove a pair of shoes down Eve’s throat. Which, while making for a hilarious mental image, didn’t exactly make for a likely pairing. But, I also remembered Cordy calling Eve Lilah-Junior (which completely made my day - since that was actually a nick-name I’d given her at the very start of the season), and that made me think of how I would pair Cordy and Lilah together in the same situation.
Lilah would try to seduce her into working for Wolfram & Hart, of course. So, presumably Lilah-Junior would try to do the same. (Of course, if it were actually Lilah doing the seductive convincing, I’d imagine it might have had a better chance of working - since they’d teamed up before against Billy, and Lilah seems to be a better negotiator than Eve, as well as being, in my opinion, much more seductive.)
Cordelia’s hand found its place on her hip, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the window. ”Haven’t you taken enough abuse for one day? Because I’ve gotta tell ya, I think me handing your boyfriend over to his demonic, royally pissed off ex-bosses and dragging you around by your earlobe is more than your share. Not really fair of you to hog my aggression, when there are so many other deserving subjects.” She gestured absently towards several other, presumably evil Wolfram and Hart employee’s whose heels clicked as they passed by the room, Cordelia’s gaze moving back down to catch on the different colored specs that moved like ants on the street, twelve stories below.
"The senior Partners have told me a lot about you, Cordelia.” Lilah-Junior was next to her now, looking out the window, her slim, manicured hands folded mildly behind her. Cordelia hated lawyers, because they had near-permanent poker faces, because their voices were annoyingly even, and because what she needed was some peace and quiet, not a devil talking in her ear. “I know what's waiting for you in Angel’s office."
Cordelia answered dryly, "A Lamborghini?"
"Hardly."
"How about a vacation for two?"
The other woman’s head cocked, eyebrows raised and voice flat, "Death."
I actually wrote almost the entire dialogue out for this fic in one sitting - which was really nice, since normally it takes me a lot longer than that. I was just laying in the bath (my place of thinky goodness) wondering how the hell I was going to pair those two up, and suddenly, ding! Like a little light bulb. I literally scrambled out of the tub, and stood soaking wet, dripping all over my floor, as I hovered over my desk and scribbled the basic arc of the conversation down. It wasn’t until I had a good few pages down, and half a dozen arrows and circles re-arranging everything, that I finally went back, and rinsed the bubbles out of my hair..
"Technically,” Cordelia flexed her fingers again absently, “I’m already dead.” Though for a temporary reflection of her real body; the skin she wore now was incredibly convincing. Everything felt perfectly normal, perfectly healthy; almost, as if she had never died at all. “But if the Senior Partners know so much about what's coming for me, then you already knew that."
There was a pause, then Eve’s voice was back, close to her ear. "You don't have to be."
And Cordelia couldn’t help it, her eyes widened and she was staring now, staring at Eve’s lips as she continued, slender arms folded over a blouse that made the most of a small bust. "Your soul is still on this plane. We can harness it, give you a new body - or, well..” Cordelia was blinking now, because either it was her imagination, or the other woman had just given her the up-down, ”your old one restored, anyway. No point in downgrading."
Might as well start the flirting out early - and hey, Eve isn’t lying. Cordelia looked fantastic in that episode.
The other woman’s gaze locked with hers, eyes big and green and surprisingly bright from all the light that poured in through the clear wall; and if Cordelia hadn’t known better, she might have thought the other woman’s furrowed brow was sign of sympathy. Cordelia folded her arms over her chest, lifting an eyebrow pointedly. ”And let me guess, all I have to pay is the small fee of my eternal soul? Or maybe, ten virgin sacrifices?"
I wanted to make sure it seemed like Cordelia could see through Eve’s bullshit right away, snarking back, and even outright mocking her. But as the argument went on, and became more convincing, more tempting, I wanted her comebacks to get less and less sure. There’s that old phrase, about time being the enemy of logic, and when somebody is talking you in circles, especially somebody who works for a law firm, it’s completely true. If they can build a good enough argument against you, it can really blur everything up, and twist around logic in a way that makes a person really susceptible to emotion.
Eve wasn’t looking at her anymore, she’d moved across the room to meet a man that stepped in through the open hall-door, only long enough to hand Eve a paper and pen, before darting back out. Eve closed the door behind him, moving to lean against a desk several feet away, eyes moving over the paper in her hand as she answered absently, "No, nothing like that.” She was uncapping the pen now, the tip of it lingering someplace near the bottom of the page as she added with a glance, “Although if you don't believe me, I'm sure your friends would be happy to help you read over the fine print."
"Senior Partners give you your name, Eve?” Cordelia’s lips were a thin line, trying hard to purge her expression of curiosity. “Seems too fitting to be coincidence. Don't have an apple on your person, do you?"
”No,” The pen in Eve’s hand made a brief scratching noise as she trailed it over the page, before dropping it without ceremony, and crossing the room on long, shapely legs. “I’ve something much better."
As the conversation goes on, I wanted Cordelia to start noticing little things about Eve - legs, eyes, lips, all things Eve is surely trying her hardest to flaunt, and things that will make her proposition that much more attractive.
She held out the paper out, out of her reach, but just near enough that Cordelia could clearly make out the words, ‘Employment Contract’ at the top. Instantly Cordelia’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back, hands jerking as if to shove it away. "If you think for one second that I'm signing that little death-trap-"
"It's not for you." The smaller woman’s fingers tapped at the bottom of the page, where a signature already sat on top of the dotted line, the still-wet ink slanting across the contract in tiny, unreadable cursive. "It's mine, accepting my new job as your personal assistant."
"So this is what, your last ditch effort to not get beheaded by your bosses for teaming up with that tattooed boy-toy of yours? What kind of hell do you think he’s in, anyway?” Cordelia’s arms folded back over her chest, leaning her shoulders against the glass wall behind her. “Think the Senior Partners will give him his own, personalized hell, or it will be something generic? My vote is on a big pit of fire. Classic.”
As Cordelia starts to feel herself actually considering it, she’s going to lash out at Eve personally. In this case, knowing nothing about Eve herself, the best she can do is talk about Lindsey.
Of course, Eve knows better than to even acknowledge the personal shot, and by-passes it completely.
Eve was folding up her own contract neatly, tucking it away into her back pocket. "Think about this for a second, Cordelia.” Those green eyes were on her again, unwavering, and the other woman’s tone was soft like understanding, “For starters, you won't die - kind of enough reason in and of itself - but on top of that you'll have access to all of Wolfram and Hart's resources." Then the eyes in front of her were blinking one too many times, almost as if the dark lashes were being fluttered in her direction purposefully, and Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder if Eve counted as a resource. “That means everything you need to go shoe shopping or to save the world, it's really up to you.”
Eve starts playing up the sympathy card subtly - soft tone, sad eyes, like she actually really cares about what’s going to happen to Cordelia, as one human being to another. And, not knowing anything about Eve, a performance like that might be fairly believable.
Cordelia couldn’t help but let her eyes wander down to her wrist, even as she felt Eve watch her. Watch her checking the time, watch the panic flash in her eyes as she registered: fifteen minutes.
I’ve always thought that knowing the exact time that you were going to die would have to be one of the most terrifying things imaginable, and here would add serious pressure and leverage to Eve’s argument.
"If you're offering me a job, I'd like to remind you that I have one.” Cordelia slid her wrist behind her back, out of view. “I'm contracted with the Powers; you know, seer for the forces of good and all. I'm pretty sure that kind of thing doesn't mesh with pushing papers at Evil Incorporated.”
Cordelia’s back-lashing starts getting weaker as she starts feeling out Eve’s argument instead of directly rejecting it. By pointing out its flaws, she more or less prompts Eve to argue back against them, almost as if she’s hoping Eve can explain them away.
"A job with the Powers that you didn't volunteer for,” She had hardly finished her sentence when Eve’s tone struck up again, low and serious. “And what have they done for you? Rewarded your service -years of visions that literally tore your brain apart- by letting you be possessed by something truly evil? By letting your body rot in a coma until you died?" Eve suddenly felt very close to her, close enough that Cordelia was suddenly very aware of her own breathing, and the breathing of the woman in front of her as Eve spoke, her tone a low, ardent whisper. "You call us evil, but who do you think are the bad guys here? The Powers that have every intention of letting you walk through that door for one last kiss before shipping your soul off and out of the way, out of their way because they're done toying with you? Who are letting you die when they have every bit of power to restore your body?" Cordelia only had a second to wonder if Eve knew how the visions were passed, if she’d put two and two together, before the other woman’s hand drew her attention elsewhere, fingertips touching up the outside of her forearm only for a second; the stroke brief enough that Cordelia didn’t have time to object, but gently enough, warmly enough that the touch felt like empathy, and seemed to linger. "Haven't you given enough for them, enough that you deserve the last years of your life?”
Here Eve quickly takes the cue, and jumps on the opportunity to lay out all the wrong the Powers That Be have done to Cordelia, and at the same time, takes the chance to invade Cordelia’s personal space, and breach the no-touch boundary with a quick brush.
"Last years of my life?” Cordelia turned her head away, eyes fixed on the office doorway, “Now you're just making me sound old." Then her eyes were closing, staring at the back of her eyelids, staring into the black. "It's not about what I deserve." If it was, there really would be a Lamborghini on the other side of that door, filled with purses and shoes every color of the rainbow and one hell of a chocolate cake. If it were about what she deserved, she would get a fucking parade.
Cordelia’s argument really starts to weaken around here, as she falls back on the good old Greater ood explanation. Which, of course, is something vague enough that it’s easy for Eve to twist around.
"You may feel like you're going to die a heroic martyr here, Cordelia, but what will it achieve?" She opened her eyes to see Eve gesturing out the window, indicating the people in the street below, "It's not going to help any one of them, your death. Not having you around to play hero like you did today isn't going to make their lives any better. In fact I'm willing to bet that they'll be worse off without you.” The other woman’s face was solemn, eyes narrowed in concentration as the movement on the street below held her gaze. “How many people do you think you've saved? How many more do you think you could save?"
Like deird1 pointed out, this really does have the same tone as Faith in “Consequences”, and Spike in “Dead Things”. The always convincing, lets-compare-the-numbers argument.
It only took a second of Eve’s eyes on hers for Cordelia’s gaze to shift back down to the street, shift away as the other woman kept talking, hands gesturing emphatically at her side. "Clearly it's not fair to you, killing you off after they screw you over -literally-” Cordelia flinched at the memory. Connor who she’d held as a baby, who was like her kid.. “and it's not fair to your friends. You saw for your own eyes today how much they need this, how much they need you.” Then Eve’s voice was another octave lower, softer. “How much he needs you."
Now Eve’s really going for the heart - the very reason Cordelia feels like her sacrifice is important, to help the man she loves.
Cordelia’s gaze jerked up, catching first on Eve, light brow furrowed and pink lips in a solemn line, and then the office door behind her, the seer’s voice leaving her with much more emotion than she had intended, "Angel-"
"Can handle himself?” Eve was shaking her head, “Oh, yeah. That's why you and me and everyone else here can tell he's struggling just to get up in the morning. He doesn't understand the good he's doing by being here, he doesn't see. People like Angel need to see the blood and the tears, needs to come home bruised and battered to know that he's doing good, that he’s helping; but people like you and I.." There was the soft brush of fingertips on her arm again, and then Eve‘s eyes had caught hers, holding her gaze, "We can see beyond that." Eve tilted her head back down to look over the street below them, and Cordelia’s eyes followed, watching the specks move about their lives, oblivious. "Those 50 people down there, what if there was a fire in the building across the way, and it started to collapse, started to crumble on top of those people down in the street?"
Cordelia paused for a moment, then reflexively re-folded her arms. "Then chances are, some Wolfram and Hart lackeys set it on fire."
"Angel Investigations could never save them all.” Eve pressed on, unabashed, “You, your friends, and Angel, you couldn't save them all, not all at once.” Then those long, prettily manicured hands were gesturing to the walls around them, Eve’s subtly painted eyes deep with frustration, as if she were struggling to get across a simple concept. “But here, you could. You can save exponentially as many lives, even you can't deny that."
The seer’s eyes moved to the office doorway, voice flat. "And you want me to help Angel see that.”
Here’s where Eve starts to see Cordelia as even more than a possible problem, should she die all nobly, and leave Angel with this strengthened sense of right and wrong; she starts to see Cordelia as a possible ally.
"Because it's true."
"Since when do you people give a rat’s ass about what's true?" She’d been aiming for angry, but the words left her in more of a frustrated sigh.
"Since we're under new management.” There was a light, quiet knock at the hall door, and Eve continued speaking as she crossed the room, hips swaying rhythmically with each step. “Your big, heroic hunk of a boyfriend owns this place Cordelia, it's his.” Another paper passed through the doorway into Eve’s hands, and then the door swung shut again, leaving only the noise of Eve’s heels, clicking as she moved back across the room. “It's mindless for him to continue treating this place like something he's fighting against, when this entire company is his tool.”
I have a thing for the clicking of heels. I don’t know why, because in reality I find them to be rather impractical...but I would be *so* seduced by a woman in heels. Thereby, virtually any chance I get, my fics all include clicking heels, generally in the form of Lilah Morgan. Random tidbit..aaanyway..
Cordelia’s eyes caught on the word ‘contract’ on the top of the new paper Eve held, and her arms folded more firmly over her chest, nails digging into her own arms. "Angel’s tool? Oh yeah, and the Senior Partners-“
I just realized that I actually mentioned ‘Angel’s tool’ in there. Oy vay..
"Haven't done a thing to interfere yet, have they?" There was an increasingly quiet, intimate tone to Eve’s voice, "Look, Angel and your friends..they're in it for the long haul. Their contracts are already signed, they've already changed this company into something it's never been before, into something completely new.” Eve was gesturing to Angel’s office door, and Cordelia’s eyes followed. “They're invested in this place, don't you think they could do a better job with you here?"
And Cordelia couldn’t help it, her arms were unfolding and she was looking at her wrist again, frown deepening. Ten minutes.
Again with the time pressure, as Eve plays off the for-the-good-of-your-friends card, and tries to ennoble her cause.
"This can keep you here with him, to help him here on earth - as friend or love, that's completely up to you; you know the risks. We’d never get in the way of that.” There was tentative pause, where Eve set the unsigned contract and pen down on the table beside them, within view and reach. “I'm just here to help you if you need it, if you need help with..anything.." Eve’s eyes were on her again, and her face was tilting up closer to Cordelia’s as she spoke, and the more she heard the other woman’s voice the more Cordelia realized just how sultry Eve’s voice was - feminine, low, and smooth like velvet. "We both know that having you here would help him, help give him the support he needs." Cordelia’s breath hitched at the feel Eve’s hand brushing up the side of her hip, fingertips slipping horizontally to trace along the exposed skin between the belt of her pants and the end of her blouse, "But Angel alone might not be enough to, well.." Dark lashes fluttered, the corners of Eve’s lips twitching up in a smile, "He isn't exactly able to help you with all the things that you might..need." Then Eve’s body was pushing in even closer to hers, their figures pressing together as the smaller woman pushed Cordelia back gently against the glass wall. Slender arms on either side of Cordelia trapped her as hips pressed in against hers, Eve’s fingers moving to trail in one smooth stroke up the outsides of her arms. "I am." Eve's face tilted up, and instinctively Cordelia's face tilted down to meet hers, nearly closing the small gap between them. Eve's word’s came in a hot breath against Cordelia’s lips, a shiver rolling down the length of her body, magnifying the warm sensitivity building between her legs.
After thoroughly picking apart Cordelia’s argument, bulking up her own with a for-the-greater-good spin, and letting the time pressure build till Cordelia’s reserve is all but gone, Eve throws in one last incentive - herself.
And for the second time tonight, Cordelia was drowned in the realization that she was never going to feel anything again; that her skin would never shudder under someone else’s touch like it was then, and that her eyes would never again slide shut, mind’s eye full of what Eve was offering, of what could be. The other woman’s fingers moved to draw Cordelia’s hand up against her, up and over the arch of a slender stomach to cup a small breast through thin layers of fabric, Eve’s fingers resting encouragingly over Cordelia’s, holding her hand in place. Eve’s lips were brushing hers, brushing them in a tempting shadow of a kiss as her voice left her in a whisper, "The Powers That Be aren’t looking out for you, Cordelia.” Then the other woman was pulling away, eyes flickering open to catch on hers, but body leaning back far enough that Eve could lift the contract from the table, and hold it out to her. “And they're not looking out for Angel. If you know anything about their plan for him and for your friends, you know that.”
Instinctively Cordelia reached forward, fingertips brushing over the back of Eve’s hand as the paper passed between them. For a moment their eyes lingered, locked and silent, and then Cordelia’s gaze was moving over the page. Phrases like ‘captured soul’ and ‘restored body’ leapt out at her, Eve’s voice a quiet whisper at her side. “This is a simple choice, Cordelia.” Soft fingertips reached up to trail down her jaw line, then down the side of her neck in a coaxing stroke, “You're not a stupid woman.”
The ‘simple choice’ line was actually the first line I wrote for this fic, in correspondence with the title. I actually start out that way a lot, with a matching line and title, but often times the fic itself turns out different than I had intended, and I end up deleting the line, and giving it a different title. This fic, however, actually turned out exactly how I’d imagined it the first run though - with one not-so-minor change. In my first run-through, Cordelia actually gives in.
For a moment she could feel the other woman’s breath on her collar bone, Eve’s slim, soft body near against her side, and Cordelia’s own eyes slipping shut. Then, "No.” In one smooth motion, Cordelia ripped the paper straight down the middle, dropping the remaining halves to the floor unceremoniously. "You're right. I'm not." Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could see Eve’s eyes light up with alarm as she spoke, “The choice between encouraging Angel to keep on compromising everything that he is, everything that we've all worked for, that some of us have died for-" Her voice cracked, the image of an Irish smile in her mind’s eye. "Between that, and helping the man I love see what is wrong with this place. That the senior partners are playing him,” She brushed past Eve, her heels puncturing the torn paper on the floor as she walked over it, "that this place is not his tool, that he is its tool, that this whole thing is a lie-"
”You’re going to die,” there was a desperate strain to Eve’s voice now, one that was much more genuine than anything Cordelia had heard out of her yet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was the Senior Partners had threatened her with, and how steep the price was for failure. “You’re going to die for the Powers that Be, Cordelia, and you can’t even trust them, you’ve seen that for yourself.”
Now Eve gets to play the desperate one, which is actually, I thought, her best roll in the series. I never really felt much of anything for her until the last episode, when she stood in the crumbling Wolfram & Hart office, looking like she had nothing left to live for.
Cordelia crossed the room, eyes never leaving the office door. Her hand closed around the doorknob in front of her, knuckles white. “It’s not them that I'm trusting.” She’d had enough of Cinderella stories, and enough of waiting to be saved. Her prince had slipped the track, and it was up to her to get him back on it. She trusted him to take it from there. “Everybody dies, Eve.” Her gaze moved down to her wrist for a split second, registering: five minutes. It would be enough. “Some of us just get to say goodbye.”
She took a deep breath, and the door swung shut behind her.
While this fic initially started out as a scheme for me to get Cordy to stay, and throw in a little femslash too, by the time I’d reached the end of their argument, I felt like I’d changed my own mind. Like I understood that her death, a completely uncompromising decision, even after all that had happened to her, to put her faith in her loved ones, was the only thing that could show Angel what was wrong with what they were doing - what was wrong with blurred lines and compromises - and the only thing that could really snap him out of it, and, like Cordy said in “Your Welcome”, remind him who he really is.