Title: Praeludere
Rating: PG13
First Posted: June, 2001
Notes: We start off post "Epiphany" and pre "Belonging".
Dedication: The first three chapters are for Nickle because I remember her Giles/Cordelia fics with great fondness.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Feedback: Cherished. admin@florrie-fic.com
Part 2
Giles opened the front door of his home. Walking into your own home when you know there is a stranger - an almost stranger - waiting there can be un-nerving. Had she checked out the refrigerator and given that mouldy cheese a disgusted nudge? Please, don’t let her have lifted the lid on the dirty laundry basket.
Alright, be fair - not an almost stranger - but it had been a long time since he and Cordelia had shared anything more companionable than a late night cemetery stake-out.
Giles had spent the remainder of his quiet hours in the Magic Shop trying to compile an inventory of Cordelia-type conversational topics. He had the scarily short list in his jacket pocket. The first topic header “Boys” had been quickly crossed off. How could Giles discuss Cordelia’s sex-life? By the way, are you getting any? Is there anyone important in your life, besides yourself? The list now comprised “Movies I Have Seen”, “Life in L.A.”, “Interesting Moments In the Life of A Secretary” and “Clothes”. Giles pinned great hopes on “Clothes”. Hopefully he could simply introduce the subject, sit back, switch off and day-dream of ascetic solitude while Cordelia rattled on.
The rooms were quiet and filled with sunlight. The sunbeams filtered over the stairway, light swirls of air-borne dust rupturing the stillness. The curtains, Cordelia must have opened the curtains. It had been so long since he had bothered to disturb their dreary closeness.
“Cordelia?”
The sun-filled silence was broken by a soft murmuring.
“Cordelia? Are you.....”
Cordelia was sitting on the lounge, her back to him, muttering into - he could see now - the telephone. She was clutching a hand to her forehead and rocking gently, back and forth. The phone was placed back in its cradle.
“Cordelia?”
She started slightly, suddenly ceased the rhythmic motion and clasped both hands tightly together in her lap.
“Giles, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Something’s happened?”
“Oh, no. I had to call Angel... nothing much... I hope you don’t mind - my cell wouldn’t work.”
“But you....”
“I’m fine!” she said brightly, with only the slightest trace of a wince.
Giles could not believe that either the strained expression or tense body were symptomatic of ‘fine’, but before he could launch into a more commanding, ‘now see here’ tone, the phone rang. Giles picked it up and listened to the speaker at the other end. He acknowledged the comments with an occasional “I see”, “of course” and “yes, yes” before a final “thank you for calling.”
Giles stood for a moment, hands thrust into his pockets, brow furrowed, assimilating the information.
“Angel says aspirin helps the pain,” he offered baldly.
Cordelia sighed, unclasped her hands, clutched at her forehead and resumed the soothing swaying.
“Damn vampires. Never trust them to keep a secret... blab to the whole world and then... Don’t you tell anyone...”
“Angel was worried about you trying to cope on your own. Understandably. I’ll go find those tablets.”
“I didn’t want a fuss,” she muttered as Giles disappeared into the kitchen.
“I won’t fuss,” he called back, “if you do as you are told!”
He came back and attempted to push two tablets and a glass of water into her hands. “Here, Cordelia.”
“They don’t work.”
“Angel said....”
“I only take them at home to make Angel feel better!”
“Then do me a favour and make me feel better!”
“Geeze, men! If I turn into an aspirin junkie I’ll know who to sue!”
“Do you want to talk about whatever it was you saw?” he asked with some concern before lowering himself onto the lounge next to Cordelia.
“No thanks. Pretty much an ‘Evil Dead’ remake. Low budget. Bad lip-sync. Don’t want to go there again.”
“Angel didn’t go into a lot of detail, but I gather these er, ...visions? have been happening for a while.”
“Oh, yes! We go way back!”
“It doesn’t seem fair... I mean you work for Angel, that I understand, but why did the Power’s choose you?”
“‘Fair’ isn’t a word to be found in the PTB’s scrabble dictionary, Giles. Look, the mind-throbbing visions happen. Somedays I feel sorry for myself and wish for a normal life but most of the time I’m good with it, you know? There are so many people that need help, Giles and hell, I get that already!” What’s with feeling their pain every damn time? And it’s getting worse... but I know I want to help and shit, was I so freaking evil? Was I Giles, was I really that bad? I saw your face back in the shop... you were thinking ‘nasty Queen C’ and for crying out loud, maybe I was mean... I was a spoilt kid but even then I still wanted to help but, oh no, everyone remembers me for the bad and do I really deserve to have my life ruined...,”
“Cordelia, calm down... please,” Giles captured the girl's hand as it agitatedly sliced through the air, “please, relax.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to embarrass you but I get a little, well, annoyed. Sometimes.”
“Naturally.”
“This is where you say I was never evil and then you tell me my favourite fairystory - the one about how the pain part of the visions will magically disappear.”
“I can’t do that... the visions, I can’t remove the pain. Did Wesley ever research any of this?”
“I... he never said. Giles, me and evil?”
“No, of course you weren’t evil, just... different. You were Cordelia Chase. You still are. Actually...” Giles hitched his spectacles onto his nose and pulled a large tooled leather book from a nearby shelf. “I might look into this while you are here. I doubt we can interfere with the gift as such, but there may be a remedy for the distress and headache... if there are indications that the...” Giles’ voice settled to a gentle mumble as he turned the pages.
Cordelia pushed her shoulders back into the cushions, closed her throbbing eyes and fell asleep to the soothing whisper of ancient paper.
Hunger finally roused Cordelia from her healing slumber and consequently forced Giles from his books.
“Kinda on the empty side, Giles.”
Cordelia peered over his rolled-back shirt-sleeve into the sparsely occupied freezer. The refrigerator had slightly more items but their level of freshness was suspect.
“Yes, er, sorry.”
“Pizza?”
“I think so. Extra anchovy? Garlic bread?”
“Fine. Eddie’s Parlour still deliver?”
“Uh, huh. I’ll call. Thin crust?”
“Great.”
Cordelia propped herself against the kitchen benchtop and waited while Giles placed the brief order. So far, not too bad. Staying with Giles had been a daunting prospect, but one that was quickly shrouded in Cordelia Chase bravado. Far better than taking a room at the Sunnydale Motel where you might as well just leave the door open and become part of the human smorgasbord for vampires. Giles was okay. Shame he found out about the visions. If Angel hadn’t called back and spoken to Giles she was sure she would have been able to bluff her way out. On the other hand, if Giles could find a cure for the crushing pain? All good.
Giles wandered back into the kitchen, cradling a bottle of wine in the crook of his arm.
“Glass of red with your dinner?”
“Yes please. You know, there is someone in L.A. that I could ask about the visions but you know when you keep putting off doing something because you get scared you might hear bad news?” Cordelia scrunched up her nose at the thought.
“Mmm? Who’s that?” asked Giles as he uncorked the bottle.
“We call him ‘the Host’... he reads souls while you sing.”
“Oh? Singing souls? I don’t quite understand...”
“Long story,” she answered, dismissively.
“I’m listening,” said Giles and handed Cordelia a glass of claret red wine.
