Princess

Fred almost fell out of her chair in surprise.

"Cordelia," she exclaimed, brightening, getting to her feet to hug the living daylights out of her old pal. They’d seen each other already, numerous times, starting on Fred’s first day in London and then at least once a day around the office, case or no case. Nonetheless, it still came as a shock to see Cordelia walk through the door every morning, armed with a customary quip and wry smile. Fred wasn’t about to tackle her every single day or anything, but the idea in itself was tempting, given the dangers of their line of work and questionable record with the Powers That Be.

"Helpless? Oh, right," said Fred with a sheepish grin, shrugging a bit as she let go of Cordelia and took a step back to give her some space. "Close enough…sorta. It’s not really that different. Nobody’s called in askin’ us for our help, anyway. It’s just been me here, being all receptionisty. I beat myself at Tic-Tac-Toe and Hangman, but that got boring. Then I started playin’ desk trash basketball, but I lost." Disappointed, Fred took her seat again, going back to spinning in her chair. Cordelia’s figure passed her once, twice, three times, fourth times, before Fred spoke up again, dizziness making the room as unsteady as it had felt under the influence of the Illuberis Fern. (Fred still wasn’t quite sure what to make of that experience. Further data was needed to work out its mysteries.)

"Mind if I ask you a kinda personal question, Cordy?" She asked, resting her chin on her hand. Without pause, she went on, trying to voice her concerns without sound all over the shop. "What d’you think made you come back—uh, again, I mean? The Powers, or…something else?" Fred was leaning toward something different. What else would resurrect many a fallen friend with no explanation whatsoever? She had some suspicions—Wolfram and Hart being the most obvious cause—but nothing concrete to go on yet. She was still catching up on what occurred in her absence and who was back in action alongside her. It got her thinking. Almost anyone brought back—herself, Wesley, Cordelia, even Doyle—was connected via notoriety to Angel, and in half of the examples, attached to the employ of Wolfram and Hart’s Los Angeles branch. Was this a ploy of the Senior Partners to gain revenge on their vampire champion? Wesley said the team had put a dent in their organization with Illyria’s help. Was the mass exodus from death to life part of yet another master plan or unearthed prophecy? Fred wasn’t sure if she was being paranoid or just insightful. Perhaps, a little of both.

“Hello to you too!”

Laughing gently, Cordelia let go of Fred and moved to lean against the edge of Fred’s desk while the other woman took her seat again in her spinny chair.

"Close enough…sorta. It’s not really that different. Nobody’s called in askin’ us for our help, anyway. It’s just been me here, being all receptionisty. I beat myself at Tic-Tac-Toe and Hangman, but that got boring. Then I started playin’ desk trash basketball, but I lost."

And with that, Fred started spinning again in her chair, which got Cordelia laughing all over again. Mornings were usually pretty slow at the office, which was why Fred was the only one in at the moment, holding down the fort. Normally it was Cordelia that was the first one to arrive at Angel Investigations. It was her job to open up, and she had taken it upon herself to be the one to make the coffee since, a) she wasn’t a morning person, not in the least, and b) she figured everyone else that came in later would want a cup o’ Joe to start their day. But since Cordelia had taken the morning off, she had given the key to the office to Fred yesterday before they all left, so that Fred could open up shop this morning. Although it was amazing that she was allowed a few more hours to sleep in, it was time to get down to business now that she was at work. Fred had stopped spinning in her chair and was now leaning forward in her seat, chin in the palm of her hand while her elbow rested on the wooden desk.

"Mind if I ask you a kinda personal question, Cordy? … What d’you think made you come back—uh, again, I mean? The Powers, or…something else?"

The conversation had taken a serious turn, but it was something that Cordelia asked herself everyday. She had always assumed that it was the Powers that brought her back to life, but they really didn’t have solid proof of that, did they? For all she knew, it could have been anything. The world that they lived in was so bizarre that it could very well be a number of things, and not just a one thing. She also knew that when Fred said “something else,” that she was referring to Wolfram and Hart. Tucking her arms across her chest, Cordelia let out a soft sigh, “I wonder the same thing every day, Fred. And I still don’t have that answer.” She uncrossed her arms and rested them behind her on the desk, leaning back as her gaze met Fred’s. “I mean I would like to think that it’s the Powers’ doing, that maybe they decided they still had a higher purpose for me on earth. But it is a little suspicious that all the people that have died in Angel’s life have been brought back. Can’t help but wonder if any or all of this has to do with Wolfram and Hart, and if it is, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Pursing her lips gently in thought, Cordelia’s mind drifted to her other friends that have been brought back over the years, and more recently. Fred’s voice brought her back to reality, breaking the dream-like trance that she gets into when she let her mind drift.

"Sidestepping the heavy stuff for a second, how are you liking London so far?"

"…And even if she wasn’t, I’m telling you right now, you had no way of knowing she was going to be back."

Nope. No way of knowing at all, but he might have believed. He could have believed. He hadn’t had to shut himself down like a shop on Christmas Day. Wesley knew the truth of why he had, why even when Angel had been attempting to contact Willow to seek her help in restoring Fred’s soul, Wesley had merely said that she was gone and followed the path of revenge instead. Better to hope for nothing and be proven wrong than to hope for something and be proven right. “No,” he agreed dully, “but it seems to be a given for members of our group, doesn’t it? You, Angel, Fred, Spike, Buffy… me. Back from the dead. Or hell. Or heaven. It wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility. I told myself it was, so I could survive.” That wasn’t a bad thing. It was human nature, to create an armor for yourself, coping mechanisms that allowed you to live and move in the world. He couldn’t wait. It was beyond what was expected of him, and yet, there was guilt, rearing its ugly head, whispering doubts in his ear.

“Don’t blame yourself for any of this, okay? None of this is your fault. You thought—hell, we all thought Fred was gone for good. By waiting for her you would have missed out on a great woman like Penelope. And I know I can speak for Fred when I say that she wouldn’t have wanted you to wait around forever for something that was most likely not going to happen. She would have wanted you to move on with your life, and to find happiness again.”

People chatted at other tables, a door swung open and closed, noodles and rice and meats sizzled in woks in the kitchen area behind them, people clinked their glasses together in celebration, and yet, for Wesley, Cordelia was the only thing that existed in the room. As she spoke, she drowned out all other occurances, begging his attention be dedicated solely to her. She spoke in a way that told Wesley to listen, and listen good. Her voice was soft and meaningful yet behind it was the quiet insistence that she was right, and if he argued otherwise, she would smack him upside the head. “I know,” he said, finally. “I still wish it were easier, for all of us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable now.”

Wesley had never seen evidence of an almighty God. In fact, what he had seen was the contrary. He had seen evidence of several, from different dimensions and times, with different motivations, but in spite of the bastarding things the Powers That Be did sometimes, he thanked them sincerely Cordelia Chase and her next words proved why.

"We’re only human. And that’s very noble of you, Wes. A lot of guys would probably just give up and go with the other woman. You’re one of the good ones. Either of them would be lucky to have you, whomever it is that you end up with.”

“No…but it seems to be a given for members of our group, doesn’t it? You, Angel, Fred, Spike, Buffy… me. Back from the dead. Or hell. Or heaven. It wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility. I told myself it was, so I could survive.”

Although she knew that there was no way for him to know that Fred would be back, she did also understand where he was coming from. Weird things like that did happen often in their world, among many other things. Cordelia couldn’t count how many times she’d wished that she just had a normal life, but then she found herself taking it back, knowing that she wouldn’t be the woman she was today if she never discovered the supernatural world. She’d be living the life she always dreamed of when she was in high school, but then she would still be the same stuck-up superficial girl that no one liked, not even herself. No, she wouldn’t trade her life for anything. She remembered when the PTB took her visions away and threw her into a “normal” life; she had still managed to find her way back to Angel, Wesley, and Gunn. Granted, Angel was crazy and Wes was missing an arm…Yeah, she definitely would choose the life where her friend that was sitting in front of her had both of his arms. Her brows knit together in a frown while she shook her head simultaneously,

“And so what? We all deal with our demons differently. Sure, it might not have been the healthiest way to cope with things, but it helped you get through it, right? And that just brings us back to the whole waiting around thing. You did what you had to do to move on, Wes. It wouldn’t have helped anyone, especially yourself, if you had sat around and waited the rest of your life, beating yourself up over it.”

She wasn’t sure if what she had just said was comforting, or if it even made any kind of psychological sense, but she knew that it needed to be said. People do deal with things differently, and although denial wasn’t the best way to go about it, sometimes you just need to pretend like it’s all okay for a little while before plunging yourself into the cold dark reality.

“I still wish it were easier, for all of us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable now.”

Her lips curved into a soft reassuring smile before she leaned forward in her seat once again, her tone laced with sincerity,

“Don’t worry, Wes. I know it’ll get better.” Her tone then had a more comical air to it, “After all, haven’t the PTB put all of us through enough shit? I think we deserve some kind of reward, don’t you think?” Winking playfully, Cordelia reached forward to take another sip from her wine glass.

“I’m glad you’re back.”