Chapter Seventeen
See introduction for disclaimers
CORDELIA
"I think we'd better not stay here, 'Delia."
I had distracted myself from the pain as long as I could by telling Doyle all about Faith. But my face still hurt, all the way from my nose around to the back of my head.
"Do you think she'll come back here?"
"She might."
"You mean, after she kills Wesley, don't you?"
"I don't know, princess. From what you've told me, I expect she'll take some time with him. But I don't think it's safe for the two of us to stay here to find out."
"We could go to my place, I guess, but Faith might still find us there. I'm listed, you know. You never know when you might get a call."
"I understand. But it's probably still better to be there than here. At least Dennis can give us some warning if she shows up, yeah?"
"That's true. Are you okay to drive? Because I'm not. My eyes keep getting crossed or something."
"I think I can manage."
He helped me out to the car. "What if Angel needs the car?" I fretted.
"He'll know who took it, and most likely, where we went. He'll find us."
"All right." I was hurting too much to argue as I got into the car. He slid behind the steering wheel, and I closed my eyes.
He started driving in silence. Or, at least it was silent at first. Then, through the throbbing of my pounding headache from Faith's punch, I kept hearing an irritating, persistent sound.
"What's that?"
"What?"
"It sounds like a meow. We don't have a kitten in the car, do we?"
"No kitten."
"So what's that mew, mew, mewing sound?"
"I'm sorry about that, princess. Can't help it," he said softly.
"What do you mean, you can't help it? You're the one meowing?"
"It's not meowing."
I looked over at him, his pale, thin face set in a neutral expression, his eyes staring straight ahead at the road.
"That's my lungs," he finally admitted. "A bit noisy, I know. Still better than the alternative, for the moment."
"Oh," I said heavily.
Suddenly the pain in my head didn't seem all that important, after all.
When I fell silent, watching him drive, he spoke quietly, still not looking at me. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel worse."
"Oh, like if you just chose the right words, then I wouldn't feel bad about you any more? Grow up," I snapped, and then said, "Sorry. That was out of line, I guess. I get bitchier than usual when my head hurts."
"No offense taken."
The rest of the ride was quiet, except for the mewing sound.
When we reached my apartment, I was able to get out of the car and walk in by myself. It wasn't that it hurt any less, but I didn't want to lean on him, if I could help it.
I noticed him noticing that, too.
As soon as we were inside, I announced abruptly, "I need to lie down."
"That's fine. I'll stay out in the living room."
"Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way or anything, because it's not anything like that, but could you stay in the bedroom with me? I promise not to molest you."
He laughed a little, softly. "I understand."
"Good. Because I don't want to deal with an angry, jealous vampire, okay?"
"No problem."
I stretched out on my bed, grateful to be there, and grateful to have him there, too. He sat down on the bed next to me. As I closed my eyes, he took my hand.
"You can rest now, princess. I'm here."
"If I fall asleep," I found myself asking, without intending to say it, "Will you still be here when I wake up?"
"I'm planning on it."
"Thank you."
DOYLE
This just keeps getting harder.
I watched Cordelia drift off into a fitful sleep, her fingers still entwined with mine, and I tried to figure out what I should do.
For their sakes, I had to hope that Angel would find Wesley in time, even though part of me didn't mind at all that Faith was probably torturing the hell out of him right now. But whether Wesley lived or died, it didn't solve my problem.
What was happening to me was tearing both of them apart. I couldn't stop it, and watching it hurt them was so much worse than dealing with it myself.
This would have to end soon. None of us could stand it much longer.
I knew that I could probably survive for months. I wasn't that close yet to the end of the year they'd guessed for me. But I had already done some homework of my own. I knew what was going to come next: sleeping hooked up to a machine that would force air into my lungs, and carrying an oxygen tank around with me everywhere I went, with a tube going into my nose.
It would be one thing to put up with it if it meant that I'd live for years. I could make that trade-off, to buy some serious time. But, all of that, just to get a few more weeks? And it would only get worse for Angel. He was half-afraid to touch me now. Soon he wouldn't dare to make love to me at all, for fear that I'd stop breathing in the middle.
I knew exactly how I wanted to go. But was it really fair to him to ask?
I used to be a church-goer, as a young lad, and I knew what the church would say about what I was planning. The church would say that if I died in the midst of an act of mortal sin, I'd go to hell. But, if I were still married to Harry, and if it were to be her arms that I might die in, while we were in the midst of the marital act, well, that would be all right with them.
Crap on that. I wasn't dead long, that first time, but it was long enough that I wasn't too worried about hellfire. I think we go pretty much where we expect we're bound. I expect that Angel never met anybody in hell who didn't truly believe, in that tormented soul, that he or she belonged there.
I used to believe that I belonged there, too. Angel and Cordelia were the ones who taught me otherwise. I couldn't believe that anything as right as Angel and me would be a problem for whatever Powers make the call on where we have to go.
But here I was, putting them both through a different kind of hell, by making them watch me die. It was a poor return for what they'd done for me, but sneaking off to die without them would hurt them just as much, maybe more. So, which way from here?
What would be easiest for them to live with, after I'm gone?
When the phone rang, Cordelia moaned in protest at the sound. I picked it up as fast as I could.
"Ben's Taxidermy," I answered the phone cheerily.
"Very funny, Doyle." It was Angel's voice, and he sounded exhausted. "I'm glad you're there. Wesley won't die, but he's had better days. Do you think you could stand it if I send him over there?"
"Sure, this place is the convalescent ward, one more patient is welcome. Where's Faith?"
"She's staying with me. No arguments. Wesley's cab will be there soon. Don't give him a hard time, Doyle, he's already had enough."
"Faith is coming home with you?"
"It's nothing that you need to worry about. You and Cordelia and Wesley, you three just stay in, and keep safe." He sounded terrible, like someone had been beating him. Come to think of it, Faith probably had.
"Look, this is something I have to do," he continued. "So, give me just one day here without having to watch out for the three of you, okay?"
He hung up without waiting for my reply, and without telling me what, if anything, he had told Wesley.
