A Selfless Act

CHAPTER TWO; NEVER FORGET
SONG; WHAT HURTS THE MOST – CASCADA

Six months. Six long, hard and lonely months had passed since the death of their dearly beloved Allen Francis Doyle. It had been so difficult at first; Cordelia had found it impossible to look anywhere, go anywhere or even say anything without being reminded of her friend. He left behind so few belongings, but so many sweet memories. Every so often, Cordelia would wake and for a few blissful seconds, she would believe that the whole thing had been a nightmare; that any second now she would hear Doyle at her door, demanding to know why she was late for work because she had been out the previous night with her friends, trying to keep the very little social life she had left alive. That small bit of hope never lasted though; the truth soon caught up with her and she found herself running out of reasons to pull herself out of bed in the mornings. The brunette had stayed away from the office for two weeks after the death. She even avoided Angel. She’d just wanted to be alone; to wallow in self pity. But then the first vision had hit her and she’d known she couldn’t ignore them.

Cordelia had been so pissed off with Doyle when that first mind-numbing pain had been struck upon her without warning. She’d thought their kiss had meant something; that it had been him announcing unspoken feelings he would never get the chance to speak. Instead, it had just been his way of passing over his stupid cursed gift to her so that Angel could carry on fighting the good fight. She had almost felt like the kiss had been more for Angel than for her. She knew different now though. It had taken her a while to accept, but she soon had. A realization had hit her and thanks to a few encouraging words from Angel and a crazy demon who wanted to sell her eyes, Cordelia accepted the fact that Doyle had given her his gift with a purpose, a true heart-felt purpose. He had given her his most prized possession; the one valuable thing that he’d ever owned. He had chosen her; trusted her with an enormous responsibility because he had believed in her. He had believed that she would be able to cope; that she had the power within her to help the innocent lives he himself could no longer save. His belief gave her a reason to carry on with her life; gave her a reason to get out of bed in the morning and go to work. The power was her reason to carry on now; they were proof that this was what Doyle wanted. He wanted her to help the helpless, even if he wasn’t around to guide her anymore.

At the same time though, they were a painful reminder and she wasn’t just on about the headaches that they left her with. Each time she received one of her brain flashes of danger, her heart had felt like it was being clenched in somebody’s fist, the life being squashed out of it. Each vision was a reminder of her grief; of what and who she had lost. For months after, Cordelia had continued to blame herself. Guilt had built a wedge inside of her, constantly making her wonder if there was more she could have done for her friend, for the man she had never admitted to falling for. If only she had been nicer to him. If only she had let her walls down. If only she had spoken the truth rather than hiding away because she was...well, to say the least, ashamed of her feelings and afraid of commitment. She had been so scared to get close to him and that selfish side of her had been so convinced that these feelings for false; that she deserved better. If only for one second, she had given a damn about somebody other than herself than maybe Doyle would still be here. All these doubts crawled through her mind every single day and while she could ignore them, she could never forget them. The visions made sure of that.

Eventually though; it got easier. Six months passed and Cordelia found that her life was building itself back up. They had a bigger team now; it had been a shock when Wesley had randomly made a show, but he had proved himself worthy, proved himself a capable member of Angel Investigations. Gunn...well, he was a hard one to read. He was rude and obnoxious most of the time, not to mention the snide comments he made towards her and her ‘incapability’ to help others. However, he was a good member – a good fighter. If they needed extra muscle, he was perfect. He could kick some serious ass. Nobody would ever be able to replace Doyle. Both she and Angel knew that. However, the extra help was appreciated and soon, the grief was a lot easier to deal with. The pain had subsided. Things finally felt as though they were becoming normal again.

Staring at her reflection, Cordelia took in a deep breath and forced a smile upon her face. The lips that were coloured with a light red lipstick looked strained where her smile wasn’t as genuine as she wished it could be. Why wasn’t it genuine? She looked fantastic – more so than usual, that is. Her dress was a deep red, made out of silk so smooth; she could just stand there and run her fingers over the material all day. It clung to her frame in an elegant manner that left to the imagination, but also emphasized her curves enough to trigger a man’s lust. Her facial features were defined with touches of makeup and her hair was free, the curls pooling over her shoulders and down her back. Her date was almost – almost – just as good looking as she was and...He was a good guy. He totally matched up to all the expectations she wanted. Money in his wallet thanks to mummy and daddy, chocolate eyes that could melt a woman’s heart, a smile that dazzled and left other’s breathless...so why wasn’t her smile genuine? Why did something not feel right?

She knew. Deep down, she knew. She was damaged goods. Doyle had spoiled her. Every time she looked into those chocolate eyes, she just wanted to see piercing blue. Every time he dazzled her with that smile, she just wanted to see that lopsided nervous one Doyle often flashed her after making a crude comment or after she caught him staring at her backside. Every time he spoke in that well-mannered voice, she longed to hear an Irish accent instead. She wanted him to be Doyle and he wasn’t. Nobody ever would be. Tears stung her eyes and her head dropped down as she bit down on her lower lip, trying to stop it from quivering as she sniffed. Moving on was a lot harder than she had ever anticipated it to be. The first soldier had fallen and Cordelia found coping difficult than ever. There were days when she was fine, but then something would remind her and she would spiral back down.

“Cordelia?”

The sound of Angel’s voice made her jump and a small gasp parted from her lips as she spun around to face him. There was a damp stain down her right cheek where a tear had escaped but her hand moved up quickly and swiped it away. “Angel.” She breathed out, trying to make her voice sound calm and collect, as if she hadn’t just been crying. One hand lifted, fingers brushing through her hair as if she was trying to plump it up and she straightened herself out, holding her arms out to her sides for inspection. “How do I look?”

Cordelia might consider herself an actress, but she couldn’t lie to Angel. Even if he hadn’t seen that stain down her cheek, he would still be able to smell the salty substance of her tears. He could feel the grief emitting from her body, feel her pain. He knew; he was feeling it too. Angel had lost a lot of people in his lifetime. He had never lost somebody he’d cared about. He had never felt as useless as he did the night he watched Doyle sacrifice himself. Cordelia’s grief was different though. Cordelia had loved Doyle in a way Angel could never love him, mainly because Angel wasn’t gay. Well, there was that time with Spike, but that had only happened once. Okay, possibly twice. But that was it! And he’d been evil then. Clearing his throat, he sighed and smiled ever so slightly when Cordelia asked him how she looked. As usual, she looked stunning, but he didn’t tell her that. Moving forward, he kept his eyes folded over his chest, his eyes penetrating into hers as if he were reading his soul. “Cordelia...” He spoke softly and knowingly.

Cordelia’s demeanour wavered as she recognised the tone in his voice. She couldn’t fool him. Her arms fell back to her side and she hung her head, wrinkling her nose. “I know; I should be a bit happier, right? I mean, I’ve got this gorgeous investment banker who could probably spend the rest of my life buying me expensive diamonds coming to take me on a date and...I look miserable. I can’t even smile believably. Some actress, huh?” She glanced back up and laughed weakly, no humour in the sound.

Angel offered her a comforting smile as he stopped in front of her, looking down at her with concern clear in his expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked her quietly, his tone cautious, approaching the situation as best he could.

“It’s nothing, really.” Cordelia tried to brush the situation off, raising her hand and making a shooing motion as she turned back around to face the mirror. Her fingers swiped underneath both eyes to clear it of any falling tears and once again, forced a grin. “I’m just being silly. That’s all. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

She was lying again and Angel knew it. He didn’t say anything; he merely stared at her with a look of disbelief and as she turned back around to face him, she knew that he wasn’t going to let her leave until he knew what was wrong with her. Biting down on her lower lip, Cordelia shut her eyes tight and took in a deep breath, her shoulders heaving up and down in a shrug of defeat. “It’s just...well; this is the first proper date I’ve been on since...since Doyle left. I mean; sure, I’ve had coffee with him and he’s bought me presents, but well; that’s just normal things. But this...this is a date. This is an expensive restaurant, a walk home...possibly invitations to come for ‘coffee’ which we all know never ends up being just coffee and – “She was babbling now and more tears were beginning to sparkle in her eyes. So much pain seemed to etched out on her pretty face and it pained Angel inside to see his friend so broken up inside.

“Cordelia; you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do.” Angel told her quietly, never taking his eyes off of her, barely even blinking. “I understand what you’re going through – “

“Do you?” Cordelia sounded almost defensive and even somewhat accusing as she said this. Her eyes stared at him with a slightly desperate look with them and her carefully plucked eyebrows were drawn down into a frown. “I mean, no offence, Angel, but do you? Doyle was more than a friend to me. He was...he was Doyle. He loved me and...and I felt for him. I loved him too but I never told him. I mean, his taste in clothing was like a Greek tragedy and sure, he drank way too much, but I loved him. He was one of the only things I had in my life that was real and the Powers That Be took that from me. He’s gone and he’s not coming back and six months on, I have this amazing guy who wants to keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life, I mean seriously, you see this necklace?” Her hand pointed at the real diamonds pined around her neck. “They cost more than your entire wardrobe – not that that’s hard...And yet...I’m still not happy because...he’s not Doyle. He’s not who I want and I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this.”

Angel had to look away. His eyes flickered down to the floor and the vampire was silent for a few moments. “In that respect, I guess I don’t know what you’re going through.” He muttered quietly. “Listen...Cordelia – “

“I don’t want to forget, Angel.” Cordelia finally admitted, her voice soft and shaking slightly as she finally spoke about what she was feeling. She had been holding it in ever since Graham had come into her life, but now the truth was spilling out. She’d started and now she couldn’t stop. “Every day that passes by, it’s harder to remember. He’s fading, Angel. I can’t remember his laugh anymore...or his scent...I can barely see his smile. Each step I take closer to Graham, the further I step away from Doyle...the more gone he becomes. I don’t want to fall out of love with him, Angel. This date – it’s the big one. I know that, I’m not socially retarded when it comes to dating like you are and Doyle was. I know exactly what happens on dates like these and...if I go on it; if I walk out that door with Graham, then...I’m letting go. I’m accepting there’s no Doyle anymore. I’m moving on. And I know I should do that, but...I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to forget how much he meant to me. I don’t want to replace him. I mean, god – “

“Cordelia.” Angel finally managed to get her to fall quiet and her babbling came to a stop. Her ears were sparkling with tears and a few had even managed to escape, smudging her make up slightly – which she wasn’t going to be happy about when she realized. The male vampire watched his friend for a few moments and he could see the devastation etched out across her face. He had thought things were getting easier, but they weren’t. Cordelia’s acting was just getting better. Slowly, he walked towards her and muscular arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. Her face fell into his cold chest, a choked sob parting from the back of her throat as she gave in and stopped trying to hold it back. “Cordelia, Doyle...he would want you to be happy. Just because you’re seeing somebody else, that doesn’t mean you’re going to forget him. He’ll always be a part of us. He’ll always be a part of you. He wouldn’t want you to be stuck indoors, mourning him for the rest of your youthful life. He’d want you to be out there, enjoying yourself...having a drink on him...” He laughed slightly at his pathetic attempt at a joke, though thankfully he felt Cordelia release a small chuckle as well.

Cordelia pulled away from her friend, lifting her hand to wipe across her cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears as she sniffed. “You know; this is all Doyle’s fault to begin with.” She muttered in a tone that resembled a sulking child. “If he hadn’t been so darn cute, I would have been able to ignore him and I would never have felt like this! And what right did he have, making me feel all this and then just leaving like that? It’s – “ Her words were cut off as she felt the dull throb in the back of her head begin to grow, every muscle in her body suddenly going rather tense and rigid. “Oh no.” She muttered. Not now; please not now. A vision was the last thing she needed. She had enough emotional pain to deal with right this second; she didn’t want physical pain to add to the list.

There was no holding back on a vision though. Seconds later, the pain struck. It was as if something had just clocked her round the head with something large and metal or as if lightening had just been struck down by Zeus himself and was now coursing through her body. Letting out a strangled cry of pain, her head threw itself backwards from the force that that the vision cast upon her. She lost her balance, her body falling to one side, though thankfully Angel was there to catch her before she could tumble to the floor. Her body shuddered and shook, looking as though she were suffering from an epelectic fit and Angel clung tight to her, tried to soothe her with murmured words, though knowing that nothing would actually make the pain fade. Cordelia’s hands gripped at his shirt for support, practically ripping the material where she clung so tight with her manicured nails. Her eyes were tightly shut, refusing to open as the vision played in her mind.

There was fire, screaming, pain – so much pain, animalistic and demonic growling. It all passed by in flashes and none of it made much sense. Who was screaming for help? Why was there so much fire when there didn’t seem to be anything to burn? It wasn’t a house, it wasn’t a building of any kind...it was just fire – a big pit of burning flames. She could practically feel the heat melting her skin. “No! No, please! I don’t belong there!” The person who had previously been screaming was now begging and Cordelia suddenly felt cold from head to foot, despite the heat of her vision. She knew that voice. She knew that accent. It sounded huskier than she remembered; it sounded strained and hurt, but it was him. It was Doyle. She wanted to call out to him, scream for him, find out where he was but she couldn’t. The vision only allowed her to see what the Powers wanted her to see. She couldn’t just freeze frame and take a look around. The flames grew hotter and the growls grew louder. The heat was beginning to get over bearing and Cordelia wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “Cordelia...” That familiar voice whispered her name and it sounded like he was cry; like he was pleading for her. She wanted to tell him it was okay; that she was here now, but again, she couldn’t. Flames danced in front of her eyes and then suddenly, she was racing forward, as if she were in a car and going full speed. Everything was a blur as she passed more fire, demons, people screaming in pain and then everything came to a stop and someone was knelt on the ground in front of her.

He was naked, his wrists in chains and held above his head. There were so many markings over his body; cuts, bruises, scorch marks...some looked as though they were healing and others look incredibly fresh and painful, possibly even infected. His head was hung down, a faint sheen of sweat shimmering on his pale skin as he panted for air, choking every now and then as if he couldn’t breathe properly. Dark hair seemed to be tatty and dirty, tainted with bits of ash and debris. He was shaking, crying and Cordelia felt so much pity for him. What was happening to him? Where was he? It wasn’t anywhere she knew; it wasn’t in LA. She was so confused. Her vision wasn’t giving her any information, it was just taunting her, showing her people she couldn’t save and playing on her grief. The man groaned in anguish, his head slowly lifting and that was when Cordelia realized who it was. Blue eyes that had once been so full of life now stared at her, full of pain and sorrow, no light shining in them anymore. “Help me.” He whispered in his Irish accent.

And then Doyle was suddenly screaming and Cordelia felt it too. She felt the indescribable pain; the burning, as if her insides were on fire and she couldn’t put them out. The pain didn’t stop, it got worse and worse the louder the screams got. It wasn’t just Doyle screaming now; she could hear at least a dozen screams, all of them in agony.

The sound of Cordelia’s screaming was bouncing off of the walls and Angel tried to wake her up, yelling her name to call her back to reality, but nothing seemed to wake her up. She withered and screamed in his arms and it took him all his strength to keep her there, to not accidently drop her onto the floor. Her face was twisted up in pain, her eyes still shut tight. “Cordelia!” Angel yelled, his fingertips probably bruising her where they were now gripping her so tight. The door burst open as Wesley ran in, wielding an axe, thinking a demon was there. When he caught sight of what was happening though, he just froze, staring with wide eyes, unsure of what to do, waiting for an order from Angel though he never got one. The vampire was too preoccupied trying to pull his friend out of her pain-causing vision. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open, but she didn’t stop screaming. She pushed Angel off of her, not realizing it was him. The pain was gone but her hands were now batting at the sides of her dress, as if trying to put out imaginary flames. Angel reached forward and grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Cordelia! Cordelia; it’s okay, you’re safe.”

Cordelia struggled in Angel’s arms as he shouted over her screams, but slowly, she realized she wasn’t in the vision anymore. She was back in the office; Angel was there to protect her and Wesley was...well, just there. Doyle was gone – again. She could still hear the screams though. Her body still had a dull throb coursing through it from the previous pain she’d shared with Doyle. Her eyes were wide with horror clear in them. There was a faint sheen on her forehead and she was panting for oxygen, her throat dry from the heat, screaming and from the shock. Her hands were shaking; her whole body was shaking. She could vaguely hear Angel’s voice in the distance asking her what she saw and where he needed to go, what he needed to kill but she couldn’t answer. There was an annoying humming buzz surrounding her ears and she couldn’t think straight; couldn’t see properly or hear anything. Doyle’s screams and words were still echoing around in her head and she couldn’t erase them. Angel’s hands fell down on her shoulders and he turned her around to face him, his eyes staring down at her and she stared back up, barely seeing him. He was blurred; as if she needed glasses but wasn’t wearing them right now. “Cordelia; what did you see?!” Angel asked her in desperation.

What did she see? Cordelia looked away, staring over Angel’s shoulder. Was that Doyle she could see? No; no it was Wesley, her mind was just playing tricks on her. He looked just as blurry as Angel. “Doyle.” She whispered, her voice weak and full of vulnerability that was never normally there. No; it didn’t make sense. Why would Doyle be in a place like that? He’d fought the good fight; he’d died a hero, why was he being punished? And why couldn’t the Powers That Be show her more? She felt useless. She couldn’t help him; she couldn’t save a ghost especially when she didn’t know where the hell he was! Her head went mad with all these questions that she longed to hear the answers for. His screams were still fresh. His pain, the heat, the flames...God; was he in hell? No. He couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense.

“Oh god, Doyle!” She choked out, remembering the pain he’d been in, all those marks on his body, that look in his eyes, the chain, the fire...it was all too much. Her head shook in denial and her knees buckled under her weight. Seconds later, she was falling. She was falling and she couldn’t stop herself. By the time her body hit the floor, everything had gone black and she’d fallen unconscious with Angel kneeling beside her, demanding Wesley to get a wet towel and water.