Chapter 5
Author: Ellen
Rating: NC-17 (overall story)
Spoilers: Season 1
Summary: A retelling of the episode "She" as it might have happened in the Power of Three universe.
Disclaimer: We don't own any of these characters, or the basic plot of the episode "She," written by David Greenwalt and Marti Noxon, from which this story is adapted. Angel, Doyle, Cordelia, Wesley et al. are the property of Joss Whedon's Mutant Enemy Productions, 20th Century Fox and/or The WB.
Thoughts between Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are marked //like this.//
They felt the touch of Angel's mind on theirs. //Doyle? Cordelia? Can you hear me?//
//We can hear you,// they answered as one.
They were standing back-to-back, fighting off the pain of the visions, together. Although their bodies were not touching in the real world, here within their minds they were in contact and it was enough.
They were still trapped, still surrounded by the swirling images and the pain, still forced to witness all the suffering of all the souls in the city around them but together, they could endure what they saw, what they heard, what they felt. They could survive it.
Angel sensed that, for the first time since their ordeal began, they were no longer afraid.
//I have the scroll. Wesley is ready to begin the chant to remove the mark from Cordelia.//
//What are you waiting for, then?// The response came in both Doyle's and Cordelia's mental voices, so closely intertwined that Angel could not distinguish whose thought it was.
//There's a problem. It's a rite of unbinding and...//
//What?// That one was clearly Cordelia and Angel winced under the force of her indignation. //Unbinding? Unbinding what?//
//That's the problem. Wesley isn't sure what effect it will have on us.//
Doyle asked quietly, //Is there any other way to get Cordelia out of this?//
//No other way that I know,// Angel answered.
//Then do what you have to do, man. Whatever you have to do.//
//Doyle, no!// As Cordelia began to lose contact with Doyle, her defenses against the visions went down. She shuddered as she experienced a woman being beaten by her lover, while a child watched helplessly.
//I need you!// she cried, reaching out to Doyle.
//I need Doyle here,// Angel sent reluctantly. //Wesley and I need him here, to make this work.//
//Not without Doyle. I don't want to live without... arrghh!// Coherent thought fled from Cordelia's mind as she found herself looking through the eyes of an old man, fallen in the street, as a bus approached him.
//I'm sorry, 'Delia,// Doyle sent, pulling away from her. //It's the only way to help you.//
Her only reply was a moan, as she felt the bus run over the old man's chest. She tried desperately to catch hold of the link again but she could no longer feel it.
All that she could feel was pain.
In the Intensive Care Unit, Doyle stirred, slowly coming back to consciousness.
By the time he was fully aware, he could feel Angel's hands moving over his body but not in a caress. Very carefully, Angel was moving the various transmitters which were monitoring Doyle's condition. The mini-computer which controlled his IV drip was already hanging from the portable cart next to the bed. Doyle opened his eyes and met Angel's gaze with a wordless assent, as Angel slid his hands underneath Doyle and moved him gently to the waiting wheelchair.
As Angel settled Doyle into the wheelchair, he couldn't help but brush his fingers lightly against Doyle's cheek. //Welcome back, love,// he sent, the thought heavy with emotion.
Doyle was still too weak to move much but he turned his head slightly to touch his lips to Angel's hand. //For however long, yeah, I'm still here.//
//I know that it was hard to leave her.//
//Let's get her out of that, man. Sooner the better.//
They could hear Wesley's voice just outside, arguing with a nurse. "You know that there are dozens of studies in the medical journals which prove that comatose patients can have subliminal awareness of the voices of their loved ones. We have two people in grave condition here, who could only be helped by – "
A loud beeping interrupted Wesley, as Angel disconnected one of the monitors from Doyle. The nurse all but flew into the room.
"What are you doing?"
Doyle tried to speak aloud but at first, he couldn't. With Angel's hand resting lightly on his shoulder, he drew enough strength to sit up a little straighter in the wheelchair and to speak, although his mouth felt like it had been left in the desert overnight.
"I need to see Cordelia," he said, his voice hoarse but understandable and the nurse looked at him, startled.
"You see," Angel said smoothly. "He's doing better. We'll leave all the monitors connected with the cart. Just let us wheel him over to neuropsychiatric for a few minutes to see Cordelia Chase. It will help them both to recover."
Wesley added, "Surely you've been trained in the importance of psychological factors in the healing process." As he spoke, he moved behind Angel, to steady the cart with the IV drip. "Bringing the two of them together will be good for both of them."
"This patient and Miss Chase are...?"
"Yes," Doyle said. He gave the nurse his most pathetically appealing look. "Please," he rasped. "Let me see her."
"All right but just for a few minutes. Don't disconnect anything."
"We won't," Wesley assured her, taking up the rear with his hand on the cart, as Angel briskly wheeled Doyle out of the room.
The nurse stared after them, bemused.
//You'll have hell to pay from that one if I flatline after you do the Rite of Unbinding,// Doyle sent ruefully to Angel as their little caravan moved down the hall.
//If you do, then I'll probably have her for a wake-up snack, if Wesley doesn't get to me fast enough.// Angel's grim attempt at humor, accompanied by a vivid image of a gleeful Angelus biting the nurse, did make Doyle smile a little.
//Then I guess she'd better hope Wesley is quick with the stake, eh?//
//Won't be needed,// Angel sent back, as reassuringly as he could. //We'll get through this, all three of us.//
Aloud he said, "Wes, where's the scroll?"
From behind them, Wesley answered, "Tucked safely under my jacket, right here. As soon as we get in to Cordelia's room, I'll be ready to begin."
They arrived at the neuropsychiatric ward and were surprised to find Harry waiting there.
"You don't need to be here for this," Wesley objected.
"Yes, I do," Harry answered in a no-nonsense tone. "You should have told me sooner what happened. I came over as soon as I found out. Even in L.A., a building blowing up still rates a mention on the news."
"No time to argue," Doyle snapped. "Let's do this."
When they arrived at Cordelia's bedside, Doyle could not suppress a wave of guilt and shame as he saw her. She was staring at the ceiling, heavily sedated and unresponsive, looking like she had aged ten years in the past few hours. A twitching pulse in one temple was the only visible sign of life.
//It's not your fault. You had to leave her for a little while. We'll get her out of this, now,// Angel sent.
//Doesn't make it any easier, knowing what she's going through.// As Angel and Wesley positioned the wheelchair and cart by Cordelia's bed, one of Doyle's arms still hooked up to the IV line, he reached out with the other and took her hand.
As Doyle's fingers intertwined with Cordelia's, both he and Angel could feel her responding slightly, as the touch helped to ease her pain. Doyle's eyes were as dry as his mouth but Angel could sense the strengthening of the connection between them and he placed both of his hands on Doyle's shoulders, to steady and comfort him as the faint backwash of Cordelia's pain reached them through the link.
Doyle spoke aloud. "Now would be a good time to start, or else we're gonna lose her."
"I won't permit that," Wesley answered steadily, moving to the other side of the bed and pulling the scroll out from under his jacket. His eyes met Doyle's then, in a look of understanding.
"If we go, you're all she will have left. Take care of her," Doyle whispered huskily.
"He will," Angel spoke for Wesley, as Wesley opened the scroll. "But it won't be necessary." Still standing behind Doyle's wheelchair, Angel bent down, resting his face against Doyle's hair, closing his eyes and drinking in his scent.
//I won't let you go,// he sent, hands tightening on Doyle's shoulders.
Wesley began the chant, with Harry standing close behind him.
"The sins of man shall inflame the earth and bring a great scourge. A fighting beast from hell will arise. And if the beast shalt find thee and touch thee, thou shalt be wounded in thy soul and thou shalt know madness. The beast shalt attack and cripple thee and thou shalt know neither friend nor family. The beast shalt poison thee, mind and body, with its mark. But thou shalt undo the beast."
Angel reached out with all his strength to hold on to the bond with Doyle and with Cordelia. He could feel so much pain in that link and yet he could feel the presence of each of his lovers, each fighting in their own way to stay with him.
Fiercely, he sent out his love to them both.
"Thou shalt take refuge in the holy words of Anatole as handed down to him by the elders. And by the sacred words, thou shalt be restored whole. Three times shalt thou say these words: Unbind. Unbind. Unbind."
The bond between them trembled and shook but it held. Even with his eyes closed, Angel could see the flash of white light and could feel it through Doyle's body and Cordelia's. With a gasp, he opened his eyes.
Wesley glanced at Cordelia's hand and Angel followed his look. The mark was gone.
Faintly, as though from a great distance, Angel could hear Doyle sending to Cordelia, //It's safe now, darlin', you can come home.// And then there was nothing.
The nurse, drawn by the flash of light, hurried into the room.
Under Angel's hands, Doyle was very quiet and Angel sent his mind into Doyle's as his hands moved to Doyle's face, sensing his heart still maintaining its beat, his body still warm, although his mind seemed to have gone off in pursuit of Cordelia.
//Doyle? Say something.//
Aloud, Harry's voice echoed: "Francis?"
After too long a silence, Doyle sighed softly. //I'm still here. Still here. And so is she.//
Angel looked and saw Cordelia slowly opening her eyes. When he tried to touch her mind, he could feel confusion and weakness but also, an enormous relief. The pain was gone.
He cast a quick look of reassurance at Harry and Wesley. "Hey," he said aloud.
Cordelia stared back at him, disoriented but he could sense recognition in her thoughts.
"Angel?" she whispered.
He sent the words to her mind as he spoke them: "Welcome back."
Cordelia gazed at Doyle and then moved her head slightly to look at Wesley. The nurse muttered, "I'll get Dr. Evans," and left the room.
Cordelia turned back to Doyle. //You left me. Again. You're always leaving me.//
//It was the only way,// Doyle sent and Angel joined his thought.
//Doyle did what he had to do. He didn't want to leave you.//
//Don't ever leave me again.//
//Never,// Doyle promised, his hand warm on hers. Angel slid one hand down Doyle's arm to place it firmly over both of theirs.
Aloud, Cordelia said: "I saw them all. So much pain. We have to help them."
"We will," Angel responded strongly. "We will."
It took most of another day to get Cordelia and Doyle released from the hospital. There were tests and more tests. Wesley stayed on at the hospital to wait with Angel.
Harry seemed half-asleep, sitting close to Wesley. As time went on, she began to lean heavily against him and Angel was surprised to see the ex-Watcher allowing Harry to rest against his shoulder in public. Wes even put his arm around her. Well, if there was any woman who could break through Wesley's British reserve, Harry was the one.
"Why don't you and Harry go on home, Wes?" Angel finally suggested, noticing Wesley's exhaustion, as they sat in the 'family' lounge to wait out the latest round of tests. "You've had a long day."
"I'd rather stay, if you don't mind, Angel. I'd like to be here when Cordelia is released. And Doyle, of course," he added, squeezing Harry's hand.
Angel smiled faintly. "I think you've actually won him over, Wes. He trusted you to do what would have to be done, if he died."
"I'm honored. But I'm much happier with the outcome as it is."
"Me too," Harry murmured and Wesley gently stroked her hair.
Cordelia sent, //Tell him he's part of the family now.//
Doyle's thought joined in, stronger than it had been. //In some ways. There are some things, you know, we're still not ready to share.//
//Ewwww,// Cordelia responded and Angel laughed.
"What is it?" Wesley asked.
"Cordelia says you're part of the family now but Doyle wanted to make sure you understood that some things are not included," Angel relayed to him.
Wesley smiled. "You can tell Doyle that's fine with me. Tell him that Harry sends her best regards."
Doyle sent to Angel, //I heard that. Rubbing it in, now, is he?//
//Do you have some kind of complaint, here? Wanting to make it five instead of three, maybe?// Angel responded, teasing.
Cordelia interjected, //And ewww again. Some things shouldn't even be thought about.//
Watching Angel's smile, Wesley tried to relax, trying not to let his own emotions show, as his breath caught in his throat. Their acceptance touched him deeply.
At his side, Harry felt him tremble slightly and moved her arm behind him, drawing him to her. "We're all family now," she assured him.
Tired and overwhelmed, Wesley closed his eyes, trying not to embarrass himself with tears.
How long could this last? he wondered. How long before the Shanshu would change everything?
"It's good to be home," Cordelia said aloud for Wesley's benefit, as she puttered around the kitchen of her apartment. Dennis helpfully opened cupboards for her and she added, "Yeah, Dennis, it's good to see you too. Not that I can actually see you or anything but, you understand."
She came out to the living room with a sandwich and a glass of milk. Wesley was bent over a scattered pile of books, while Angel pored through another. It seemed that whenever Wesley wasn't with Harry, he was with the books.
She put the sandwich and the glass of milk on the table in front of him and Wesley blinked up at her.
"Hey. You've been researching for, what, two days straight? Eat. You can't have Harry here every minute to take care of you, y'know. You need to recharge the brain cells."
"Why, thank you, Cordelia."
Cordelia shot a grin at Doyle, who was resting in a chair, still looking bruised and battered. //Aren't you glad you have an excuse not to research?//
Doyle smiled back. //I'm sick, sore, lame and disabled, sweetheart. No heavy lifting, remember? And those books are heavy.//
//You could always get Dennis to lift them for you.//
//No thanks. Wes knows more languages than I do. I'll pass.//
Cordelia returned to the kitchen, then brought Angel a glass of blood. Angel took it from her hand but glanced over at Wesley.
"Don't be embarrassed," she said aloud. "We're all family now, remember?"
Angel nodded, smiling, as he lifted the glass to his lips. Cordelia noticed Wesley's stare and turned toward him.
"What?" she demanded.
Wesley said softly, "It's just that I... I'm just not used to..."
"The new you," Angel supplied.
"The kinder, gentler Cordelia," Doyle chimed in from his chair.
"New? I know what's out there now. We have a lot of evil to fight, a lot of people to help. I just hope skin and bones here can figure out what those lawyers raised sometime before the prophecy kicks in and you croak. That was the old me, wasn't it?"
"I love them both," Angel assured her and Doyle added in her mind: //So do I, princess, so do I.//
Wesley cleared his throat. "Uhhmmm, I think I may have made a tiny mistake."
"You? Mistake? Never happen," Doyle teased and then fell silent at the serious expression on Wesley's face.
Wesley turned to Angel. "The word Shanshu that I said meant you were going to die? Actually I think it means that you are going to live."
Cordelia protested: "Okay, as tiny mistakes go – that's not one!"
Wesley went on, "Shanshu has roots in so many different languages. The most ancient source is the Proto-Bantu and they consider life and death the same thing, part of a cycle, only a thing that's not alive never dies. It's like saying that you get to live until you die. I think it's really saying that you become human."
"That's the prophecy?" Doyle demanded, unbelieving.
Wesley went on. "Ah, the vampire with a soul, once he fulfills his destiny, will Shanshu. Become human. It's his reward."
"There's just one little problem with that," Angel said slowly.
"What?" Wesley frowned anxiously.
"I already have my reward. If that's what Shanshu is...."
"Yeah?" Doyle queried sharply.
"I think I've already achieved it," Angel finished quietly. "I'm already as human as I need to be."
Wesley stammered, "Ah, yes, I suppose..."
"It's actually fairly simple, man," Doyle told him. "He's part of us, we're part of him. Like you said, a gestalt."
"So I don't have to worry any more about this shoe-shine," Cordelia announced brightly.
"Shanshu," Wesley corrected.
"The point is, nobody is going anywhere," Angel said.
"He's here to stay, human or not," Doyle confirmed, smiling at Cordelia. "We all are. We're a package deal, right, princess?"
"Right. And if Angel does get human, I mean, more human than he is already..." She put her hands on her hips, smiling triumphantly at all of them. "Well, that's just typical. I hook up with the only person in history who ever came to LA to get older."
They all laughed, even Wesley, as Angel and Cordelia both moved to Doyle's chair. He smirked mischievously up at them. "Told ya so."
Angel looked over at Cordelia, then glanced down at Doyle's bruised face. //Think it's time to get this guy healed up?//
//Yeah. Let's get him back in shape fast. I've got some ideas.//
Watching them, Wesley stood up. "Perhaps I should be going."
"Wes!" Cordelia's voice stopped him. "Bad call on the Shanshu thing but..."
"But, what?"
"But you're forgiven." Cordelia walked over to Wesley and, to his surprise, enveloped him in a warm hug.
"Go spend some time with Harry," she urged, as she released him and he began moving toward the door. "And, Wes?"
"Something else, Cordelia?"
"Thanks for everything."
"Ah, well, you're welcome."
Wesley pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket. "Allergies..." he muttered as he headed out the door.
And then they were alone... except, that is, for Dennis.
But they knew he wouldn't mind.
The End
