Chapter 7
Author: Cleo
Rating: NC-17 (overall story)
Spoilers: none
Summary: Angel, Cordelia and Doyle begin to realize some of the further implications of their bond.
Disclaimer: The characters of Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are the property of 20th Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and others. No ownership is claimed and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: First of all, writing this was a very odd undertaking for me. I've had no experience with detoxing before. The only people I've known who had alcohol and drug abuse problems were clean before I met them. After reading articles and talking with different people who have been on both sides of this, as a friend and as a recovering alcoholic, I've learned to greatly respect those who have gone through this. To pull oneself out of a destructive spiral or to stand by a friend who trying to turn their life around, can't be easy. In fact, it must be it's own private hell. I can only look up to those who have managed with the highest of respect.
Dedication: To Pandora and Kuzibah.
And special thanks to Kuzibah for betaing.
Cordelia sat on the floor by the couch watching Doyle closely. He'd closed himself off as best he could, which wasn't very well considering his current state of distress. What little did manage to slip through, however, was too erratic to make any sense. She had tried to comfort him, to hold him at least. They both had but Doyle had flinched away. His pain filled //Please// had been enough to make them back off. But Cordelia hovered close by. She thought that she would have been able to feel the pain even without the bond. With it, even closed as it was, she felt overwhelmed. Silent tears slipped unnoticed down her cheeks as she watched her lover.
Angel had gone upstairs a couple of minutes before to call Harry. In the back of her mind Cordelia could hear them talking but she ignored it for the moment. Whatever he found out she and Doyle would know soon enough.
So for now she only sat near Doyle hoping that somehow her presence would be of some comfort. Doyle sat hunched over on the edge of the couch. His elbows rested on his knees and his head was in his hands. He had been sitting like this when Cordelia had come down and his continual silence was unnerving her. She couldn't see his face, only his pale fingers fisted in his hair so tightly that it had to hurt. He was breathing hard, like he'd been running as he rocked ever so slightly back and forth.
//Doyle?// She sent. There was no reply. //Doyle, please.// Still nothing.
"Doyle?" she asked, aloud this time in case he was blocked too much to hear her mental call.. "Doyle, you're scaring me. Please, just say something, okay?" She reached out hand, laying it lightly on his neck. His skin felt warm, as though he had a fever and was damp to the touch. He flinched away and seemed to curl in on himself more.
"Don't," he whispered. "Jus' don't, Princess, please."
Cordelia wrapped her arms around her waist as though only by doing so could she keep herself from wrapping them around him. She wanted to get mad, to find something in this to fight, to take control of the situation back from wherever it was it had gone. The part of her that, in spite of everything, wanted to be the naïve eighteen-year-old that she'd never had the chance to be wanted to kick and scream and demand that everything be okay again, right now! She hated feeling helpless. Cordelia Chase was never helpless. She always fought. Always. But there was nothing here to fight and it was killing her to just sit here, watching him hurt and not be able to do a damn thing about it.
You wanted this, she reminded herself. You wanted him to get clean.
But I didn't know that it was going to be like this. She struggled to hold back panicked sobs.
"Tell me what to do," she pleaded. "Please, let me help. I wanna help, I just don't know what to do." God, she sounded pathetic.
"I jus'..." he started then stopped. Cordelia leaned forward, feeling hope rise in her.
"What? What do you want me to do, lover?"
"I jus'... Oh God, 'Delia. I need a drink."
Cordelia's heart sank and she closed her eyes, wishing that she could close her ears so she couldn't hear the pain in his voice. "Doyle, you know you can't. You know I..." her voice broke as a soft sob finally escaped. "Please ask for something else. Anything else. Let me help, I..."
He was up off the couch in a second. He punched the wall hard, his movements suddenly jerky and his whole demeanor violent. Cordelia shrank back in shock. Angel occasionally had fits of temper, punching his bag, or even breaking things in his frustration. Cordelia was used to that but Doyle was never violent, ever.
"Damnit!" He shouted, punching the wall again and again. "Damnit, damnit, damnit!"
"Doyle stop it. You're going to hurt yourself. Just stop," Cordelia pleaded, not rising from the floor. Somewhere inside she sneered at herself, she sounded like a scared little girl. The Queen C was never scared but she couldn't stop her hands from shaking or her tears from flowing. She couldn't fight the sobs anymore as her own fear and confusion swelled in the face of the pain now flooding her through the bond. Not the physical pain of his hand against the wall. Bad as that was it was still something she could deal with. The other pain, though... The pain of longing, of needing and of trying desperately to fight that need...
And he was trying to fight it. She could feel it. He was trying so hard to fight.
And Cordelia had never felt so helpless before. She couldn't ease this for him, she was helping to cause it by denying him that which would make it better. But what else could she do? She... They... loved him too much to let him slowly kill himself. Her helplessness only grew as the tension suddenly drained from him and he slumped to the floor, his forehead against the wall and his arms wrapped lightly around his middle.
"'Delia..." he whispered. "Please, I... I need somethin'." His voice sounded defeated now and that scared her even more than the anger but it seemed to release her from her paralysis.
She crawled forward to his side. Sitting back on her heels she pulled him back into her arms, his head resting on her shoulder. She started rocking him, as if he were a child, murmuring meaningless soothing sounds.
He was shaking, his whole body trembling. "I'm sorry, Princess. I'm so sorry, I'm tryin'. I am. I am..." His voice trailed off as if the energy the talk was simply too much.
"I know you are. It's going to be okay. We'll get through this, we will." Cordelia continued to rock him. At least he wasn't resisting her now but he didn't reciprocate either. It was as though he didn't even notice her.
"Doyle?" No answer. "What can I do?"
Cordelia was simply at a loss. For a moment he had been back, he'd spoken to her but now... nothing. He'd blocked himself off from her again.
//Angel!// she sent desperately. //Hurry up and get down hear already. I need your help. I don't know what to do!// She fought down her rising panic yet again and concentrated on trying to soothe an unresponsive Doyle.
Harry picked up on the second ring. "Cordelia?"
"No, it's Angel."
"What happened? Cordelia hung up so suddenly. Is something wrong?"
Angel closed his eyes, wondering how much of this he should tell her. "It's a long story," he hedged. "Look, I just need you to tell me everything you know about Doyle's mother and her disappearance."
She hesitated for a second and in that hesitation he heard all the questions she wanted to ask. Questions he didn't have the time or the desire to answer right now. He nearly sighed with relief when she reluctantly gave in and began talking. He knew that this was only a reprieve and she would demand to know everything later. And she deserved to know, she still cared deeply about Doyle. But she ought to hear it all from him, not Angel. For now, this was best.
"Well, I'm afraid that I never knew Dolores very well. She stayed in Ireland when Francis came to the States so I only met her a couple of times. She came for our wedding, of course, but couldn't stay long. About a year after our marriage we went to visit for the whole summer. We were actually there when his demon side first emerged. They fought bitterly over that, Francis was devisated and... well... we left a couple of days later, more than a month before we were supposed to. I don't think he's spoken to her since." Harry paused for a moment as if gathering her thoughts.
"The basics are these," Harry began again in a clipped down-to-business tone of voice. "Dolores is the youngest of three girls. She grew up in the same small community just outside of Dublin that she lives in now. She had Francis at a very young age. Seventeen, if I remember right. She left home to go to college somewhere in England. From what I understand she insisted on staying on for the summer after her first year and then came home unexpectedly that fall with a two-month-old baby. After that she stayed home. Her parents helped her raise Francis and I believe that the four of them were very close at one time. I never met Francis' grandmother; she died when he was sixteen. His grandfather is still alive, but Francis cut him out of his life at the same time he stopped talking to his mother.
"Dolores moved into her own apartment when Francis moved here. She's been working at a day care center since he was little. She practically runs the place now. According to Judith... that's Dolores' sister. Anyway, she said that Dolores didn't show up for work last Monday. One of her co-workers called her father, Frank, about noon. They had tried calling Dolores but there was no answer. Frank and Judith went to Dolores' apartment but they found nothing out of order. Only that Dolores wasn't there. They waited and called everyone they could think of. They contacted the police the next morning. That was four days ago. As far as anyone knows, the last time she was seen was when she left work Friday afternoon. That's all I know."
Angel frowned. "She doesn't sound like the kind of person who'd have many enemies."
"She isn't. She seems to be fairly well liked, no real close friends but no enemies either. It was considered a great disappointment that she had a child and never married but... well, people got over it." Angel could hear the worry creeping into her voice. Up until now she had sounded cool and professional but now her concern was evident. "She always seemed quiet... subdued somehow. Come to think of it, she was always concerned about being in before dark and making sure everything was locked and so on. But then I guess in light of what she knew that's not entirely surprising."
Angel nodded, even though Harry couldn't see him. "Once people know about demons, about what's really out there, they have a tendency to become very careful." He paused. "Did she ever say anything about Doyle's father, other than that he was a demon?"
"No... well, not to me anyway. After it all came out she and Francis had a very long talk. I don't know what happened, so I guess you'd have to ask him. If he'll talk about it, that is. He wouldn't then and Dolores was hesitant to talk to me. We really didn't know each other. I had a hard enough time just finding out what clan he was. Why? Do you think that that might have something to do with her disappearance?"
"Well, it seems like a possibility. It's the only part of her life that is... unusual. Does Dolores' family know about Doyle's heritage?"
"Again, you'd have to ask Francis. I just don't know. How is he taking this?"
The abrupt change of topic surprised Angel, although it probably shouldn't have, he realized. "Not too well," he answered honestly. "He's worried about her."
"Could I talk to him? I mean, I know you and Cordelia are giving him the messages from me but... I'd like to actually talk to him."
Angel frowned. "He's downstairs with Cordelia right now. It just isn't a good time. I'm sorry Harry but..."
Harry cut him off, beginning to sound angry. "Angel, what's going on? And don't tell me it's a 'long story'. Francis would want to hear this for himself. Why can't I talk to him?"
"Harry, it's jus..." Angel began and was cut off again. //Angel!// Cordelia's panicked voice flooded his mind. //Hurry up and get down hear already. I need your help. I don't know what to do!// Her own fear and pain were accompanied by a flash of the pain she had been feeling from Doyle before he'd managed to shut her out.
"Angel? Angel?" Harry sounded worried. "Are you alright?"
Angel blinked. "Yes, I'm fine. Look, thank you for the information Harry and we'll call you back soon."
"Angel, don't you dare hang up on me! What's going on?" A click was her only answer as Angel hung up the phone and moved quickly toward the stairs.
