January 2002

    "The order from the apothecary finally came in," Wesley whispered as he tiptoed into the darkened office.
    Cordelia heard him and wanted to thank him, but the words refused to form in her mouth.  He had tried to be quiet, but even his timid whispers were like foghorns.  She wanted to die.  She wanted the pain to go away, to leave her battered skull and never return.  She had hitherto been stalwart and brave, but there was a certain point at which she had nothing left to give.  She was rapidly losing weight, and she almost never slept anymore.  Her body was breaking, coming to a screeching halt under the strain.
    Cordelia had done everything to hide her pain from Angel.  She laughed to think that she had become an actress after all.  In time, however, he discovered the full extent of the damage.  He had known about the seizures and bloody noses, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw on New Year’s Eve.
    She had dragged him out to a party, and it was nearly midnight.  Angel and Cordelia were dancing to some soft pop hit.  It had taken her all night, but she’d finally convinced him that one dance wouldn’t hurt anything.  His hands had rested lightly on her waist and the small of her back, and he’d felt the sharp projections of her vertebra through the dress she was wearing.  He’d also noticed how much more pronounced her hipbones were.  Her arms were tangled loosely around his neck, her face less than an inch from his neck.  She was so close he felt her warm breath on his frigid skin.  The New Year was approaching, and Angel and Cordelia ignored the boisterous partygoers shouting and celebrating around them.  It didn’t seem strange at the time for everything else to fall away as they danced.  Angel knew only Cordelia, and Cordelia knew only Angel.
    Cordelia’s breath became ragged and labored.  Angel caught her before she even began to fall.  It was only for a moment that she was faint, but it was enough to terrify Angel.  Thoughts of the Senior Partners ran through his head as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the car.  When they were back in her apartment, he demanded that she tell him the entire truth about her condition.  She cried and begged him to leave it alone, told him that it would only make things worse, but he wouldn’t back down.  Finally, she agreed.
    He waited in her room while she changed in the bathroom.  When Cordelia opened the door, Angel was speechless.  She was wearing only shorts and a skimpy tank top, and he could count almost every one of her ribs through the shirt.  Her waist had shrunk dramatically, and her legs were much bonier than before.  Angel was sickened to think that he hadn’t noticed she didn’t wear shorter skirts or more revealing shirts anymore.  He always noticed, but the pattern had escaped him.  He was disgusted with himself, with the Powers, with everything, everything but her.
    Cordelia would never forget that night.  As she revealed everything to Angel, she remembered the shock and agony she had felt as she watched him fall on his knees in front of her and weep like a child.  His guilt and anguish at her sacrifice for him was a tangible thing that weighed her down until she could no longer stand.  The memory of lying on the floor in Angel’s arms, both of them sobbing, held her thought captive now.  It was all she had been able to think about for three weeks.
    "Take this," Wesley whispered, holding a spoonful of foul-smelling liquid in front of her mouth.  It was all she could do to part her lips even a small bit.
    The vile taste remained long after the tonic had been swallowed.  Cordelia forced her mouth open with monumental effort, pushing the word out of her throat with a sense of urgency.
    "Angel."
    "Where is Angel?" Wesley queried, as if making sure that was what she meant.  He continued gently when she nodded.  "Angel is probably in the basement training for, er…training."
    "What the hell does that mean, Wesley?" Cordelia surprised herself with her sudden ability to speak in full sentences.  "And what is this stuff?  No, wait.  Don’t tell me.  Whatever it is, it works."
    "The pain is gone?" Wesley asked hopefully.
    "No, but it’s receded to bearable level." She sat up slowly on the couch.
    "You should begin to regain some of the weight," Wesley remarked helpfully.
    "Not too much, I hope," she quipped, the fatigue slowly fading.  "Angel’s in the basement?"
    "Well, I’m not sure, actually." Wesley fidgeted nervously.
    "What’s he doing in the basement that he doesn’t want me to know about?" Cordelia’s tone was bordering on dangerous.
    Wesley saw that it was no use.  The damage was done.
    "It better that you don’t know about it.  At least, that’s what Angel thinks about the whole thing."
    Cordelia had heard enough.  She couldn’t stand it when Angel hid things from her.  She brushed past Wesley, her strength returning to her in spurts.  He followed her to the basement, but made no attempt to stop her.  She took the stairs carefully, and she noted that Wesley stopped following her once she was already through the basement door.  She wondered if he was afraid of Angel’s wrath.
    "Angel’s wrath," she muttered to herself in amusement.
    Angel heard her and tried in a hurry to cover up what he was doing.  He failed miserably.
    "Angel," she said, and it was a declaration.  "What the hell are you doing?"
    "I was, that is, I decided…nothing," he sputtered.
    She looked past him at the ‘meditative aids and objects on the floor beside him.  She saw a book on the table and went to pick it up.  He didn’t try to stop her.
    "‘Strengthen Your Telepathic Powers in Seven Easy Steps’?  Oh my God, Angel…" She let the book fall from her hand, and it landed with a very loud thud on the table.  "You can’t be serious."
    "I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life, all two hundred forty nine years of it." He meant it.
    "You can’t really be thinking of facing them," she said, and her voice shook.
    "I can, and I’m going to."
    "Damn it, Angel.  Don’t pretend you don’t know what will happen to you when those psycho spirits get into your head!" she said firmly.
    "I’m not pretending, Cordy," he said quietly.  "I also can’t pretend I don’t know what will happen to you if I don’t let them into my head.  I’m done letting things happen to you because of me.  Hear me?  I’m done."
    "Damn you, Angel!  Oh, God…" She lost the strength to stand and collapsed into the single chair.  He came and bent in front of her until he was at eye level with her, just the way he’d done so many times before.  She stared into his eyes, searching, and found only determination.  "Please don’t leave me…"
    "Never."
    "How can you say that?"
    "Easy.  If I say I’m coming back to you, I’m coming back."
    "Angel," she whispered, tasting the salt of her own tears.  She touched his cool cheeks with her trembling fingers.  She almost choked on her next sentence.  "They could kill you."
    "If they kill me, they’ll be free to keep hurting people, especially you.  I can’t let them kill me in good conscience." He smiled tentatively.
    "There really is no stopping you, then," she whispered, all the fight drained out of her.
    "No," he said, and he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
    She slipped her arms around his neck and held on tightly.  He straightened up to a standing position, pulling her with him.  His arms were wrapped around her, supporting her.
    "When will you do it?" she muttered into his shoulder.
    "I don’t know.  Soon."
    "You’ll just pick up and leave anytime, then?" she said half-jokingly.
    "Pretty much," he replied.
    She said nothing, but continued to hold him tightly.
    "Cordelia."
    "Yes, Angel?" She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that refused to stop falling.
    "I want to tell you something.  I have to say this now so you’ll know, no matter what happens with the Senior Partners." Cordelia was mildly surprised to hear his voice shake.
    "What?"
    Words failed him, and he pulled away from her so he could hold her face in his hands.  He stared at her, cursedly mute.  When he finally was able to speak, his voice was faltering and heavy.
    "I love you."
    Cordelia smiled and kissed him on the nose.
    "Old news, brood boy," she said affectionately.  "I love you, too.  I think I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing before I barged in."
    "Okay," he said hoarsely, and he felt his silent heart sinking in his chest.
    Angel watched Cordelia leave, and he knew with absolute certainty that she had no idea what he’d really meant.