Summary: C/X is all I can really say without spoiling
it.
Spoilers: Mild through the third season.
Disclaimer: Not me, all Joss.
Rating: PG13, mild R. Sexual implications and a *lot* of angst.
Feedback: I love it. Love it. You understand?! LOVE IT! I need it!
Please don't make me beg!!! (Which is sort of what I'm already doing, so
I'll shut up.)
Thanks to Tracy, for beta-ing. Many thanks to her, as always. :)
For all of the C/X shippers out there, I sincerely hope that this doesn't
make you hate me. <g>
by: Amy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To Whom It May Concern:
There were a few times in my life when I was happy. The longest ago, when
I
was innocent. I think I had just started high school and was right away
deemed as the prettiest, most popular girl. Harmony and I were close, as
close as two friends could be, and we admired and respected each other.
Three seniors asked me out on the first day! It was simple. I was simple.
Then things got confusing.
At the end of my sophomore year, I discovered a secret. I won't say it now,
because it doesn't matter to any of you, and it should remain a secret for
as
long as it's supposed to. I can do some things right, I know. Anyway, I
found out a secret that changed me forever. Not just me, though, but changed
the whole world through my eyes, my entire perspective on life. I became
softer, I guess.
It wasn't so bad being soft. I mean, I could still spar orally with Xander
and Buffy, but I was also doing something else, something useful. Something
that helped people. And I felt good about it, good about myself. That was
another time I was happy. Not so innocent anymore, but happy nonetheless.
I
started seeing my friends in a different light... How could they be so blind
to reality? I would wonder. But I had been the same way, and I love them
still, even if we lost touch years ago.
I concocted a bitchy shell. I was one way around Xander and Buffy and
Willow, and a different way around Harmony and Aura and Blue and Kim. And
then, one day, things kind of got.... Different again. It was the kiss with
Xander that did it, I think. And I became even *more* soft, I cared even
*more* about them, without even trying this time. And the kiss became
another and then another and then it wasn't just kisses anymore. It was
something deeper than that, something real and almost tangible and so sweet.
And he was my boyfriend.
We weren't apart much after that. I gave him so much. I cry right now,
writing this, but I'm also smiling for some reason because... It was the
best
time of my life that I can remember. My whole life. My heart was wrapped
up
in Xander, seeing him, kissing him, touching him.
We never got farther than third base, but that wasn't because of me. I was
willing, I was totally willing to sleep with him-- By that time, I knew that
I loved him and wanted him and that he loved me too. I would kiss him
everywhere-- we had been dating for almost a year-- and he would do the same
to me. It wasn't even tenderness at that point, it was more, so incredibly
much more. He would make me feel things that I had never felt before, and
I'm not just talking orgasms and hot, sweaty near-love-making. I'm talking
about inside, deep down. I was satisfied with life. I was happy.
Anyway, the reason we never slept together, never took that final plunge,
was
because of him. I remember it all very clearly, like it's a video playing
in
front of my face. Our kisses would get harder and our mouths and hands would
travel over each other's bodies, but then he would pull back, panting, with
that cute little dazed smile on his face.
"Cordy," he would breathe, and I would look up with a smile, look into those
hazel eyes I had come to love. I loved it when he called me Cordy. "We
can't yet."
And I would just look at him. "Why not? Don't you... Don't you want me,
Xander? Don't you want to make love with me?" He would nod emphatically and
I would laugh, lowering my cheek to lay on his bare, glistening chest so
that
I could listen to his heartbeat. "What is it, then?" I would ask softly.
It was almost the same every time.
"I want you more than I can describe, honey, but..." He would trail off in
a
shaky voice. "But when we make love to each other, I want it to be perfect.
I don't want it to just be lust, sneaking around in your bedroom in the
middle of the night or in the back stacks of the library or in your car or
in
a broomcloset or--"
That's where I would break in with a smile. "We make out in a lot of places,
don't we?"
And he would chuckle, stroking my hair soothingly, running his fingers
through it to get rid of the tangles. "I want it to be perfect. I want it
to be perfect and I want it to be the kind of thing that you deserve," he
would whisper.
I usually left it at that, but finally one night when his voice sounded
almost hollow with something I didn't recognize, I looked back up at him,
my
chin on his breastbone, my hands fiddling with his stomach. "Why don't we
make it that way, then?"
He stared at me blankly that night. "What?"
"Let's plan it," I said. "I want to be with you, Xander. I want to be close
to you in that way. I'll leave the arrangements up to you if you want, and
you can make it everything that you would like and everything that you're
so
insistent on me getting. Okay?"
His eyes filled with tears and something that looked like guilt-- I found
out
later why-- and then he slowly nodded.
The night we were going to bowl was going to be that night. The night I
found him in Willow's arms, the night that he was kissing her when he should
have only been kissing me, was the night we were going to make love, seal
our
relationship. I never asked why he did it, never wanted to know, but
something in me broke that night.
I had given him all of me, all of my heart, my mind. I was going to give
him
my body. A thousand times I had told myself I loved him before that night,
and another thousand that I hated him afterwards. And I could say that I
didn't really hate him, but I did. He had taken a piece away from me that
I
had determined long ago would never be given. The only problem with hating
him was that I hated myself too.
Because I still loved him as well.
Things were hard after that, for a long time. I put back on my shell of
bitchiness and rudeness and attacked him and his friends-- They were my
friends, too, but by that time I was too hurt to see it-- was a joy that
should be reserved for picking flowers or something. Savagely I would tear
at them, telling myself not to care, telling myself not to cry at the look
in
Xander's eyes when he would hear my words.
But I did care. And I rarely stopped crying.
So there I was, with no loving boyfriend, no popular crowd to worship me,
no
friends that I had gotten close to. I was alone, and when loneliness
descends, you're in for quite a ride. And then Daddy lost the house and our
things because he was... What's the word I'm searching for? An idiot, that's
right, and we became poor people.
And then, like a strand of light filtering between some rain clouds,
happiness washed over me again. I moved to LA, and got a job working with
Angel. Xander and I had made up and we corresponded, and I looked forward
to
visiting him and being visited by him. Willow and I became friends again
and
I forgave her for all the hurt that I had held onto for so long, and she
forgave me for holding on to it. Buffy and I were getting close.
When Xander moved to LA a little over three years ago, it was the happiest
day of my life. That very day, though we hadn't seen each other in months,
he knelt down on one knee before me and asked me to marry him. He offered
me
a thousand stars, a thousand kisses every day, and thousand "I love you"s,
and I accepted. Again, though, we decided to wait. After all, our wedding
was only two months away. Why not make it perfect and romantic and old
fashioned? There was no reason either of us could see, so we did.
The kisses were still there, and so was the passion and the lust and the
tenderness and the amused fighting with each other. But there was also the
thousands of promises that laid beyond all that. I would be his, and he
would be mine, forever. Can you imagine how it feels to know that about the
person you love? It's wonderful,
freeing, and it makes you feel like you can fly. Can you imagine what a huge
promise that is to keep? It's bigger than any one of those thousand stars
that Xander was going to give me. But we would both keep it. Because we
loved each other that much.
When Xander disappeared three days before our wedding, I knew something was
wrong. Not just in the "Oh, Xander's being flaky" kind of wrong way, even
though I would have kicked his ass all the way to hell for that, but
something dangerously wrong. I somehow knew that Xander wasn't okay.
We searched and searched, for years, finding nothing on him. Every day my
heart broke a little more, it became a little more cracked, a little more
irreparable. But we never found him, and my happiness was gone for good.
Which is why I'm writing this letter, to whoever reads it.
Xander must be dead now. He must be gone, but I'm going to make sure. If
he's not, I'll rejoice, and if he is I'll do it as well. The only thing that
can come from me doing this is happiness, either way it turns out.
You found this letter, which means that you know me, and are probably a
friend of mine. I'm sorry if a lot of this sounds cryptic and ridiculous
(Secrets that she can't reveal, even after she's dead?!), but if you're
Buffy, Giles, Angel, Willow, or Oz, you'll know why I had to do this. Please
understand. I love Xander so much, as much as I know he loves me, and I love
you all too.
Forgive me, my friends?
It's not easy saying goodbye, is it? Not to anyone. Oddly enough, though,
especially not to me, which is strange because I spent years and years of
my
life building up an apathy that would shame most of the human race. But I
hope you realize that it was an act, that all of it was an act. I hope that
you love me after you read this, that you take my words and keep them and
remember me as I always want to be remembered. With Xander.
When I was happy.
Love,
Cordelia Rose Chase
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of Xander's feet pounding against the pavement urged him on. With
every step, he paced his breathing, carrying only one satchel and whispering
one name. "Cordelia. Cordelia. Cordelia."
They had let him go that morning. Tests they said, for three years, nothing
but tests. Studying him alone in a room, trying to get information out of
him about the Slayer. Xander was sure that death was impending, and he
didn't care for anything anymore.
The one thing, the only thing he ever looked forward to was the sheet of
paper he was given, and the pen. One, every day, to write whatever he
thought about. Just one, his to keep, no questions asked.
He wrote to her, all the time. "Dear Cordy, I miss you, I love you.
Sometimes I think they'll let me go...." "Cordelia, Time goes way too slowly
here..." "Dear Cordelia, I wonder if I'm ever going to see you again. I
think of you, standing there, in your wedding dress and waiting for me, and
I
feel like my heart will explode with happiness before I remember where I
am...."
The same words, in different patterns, fell onto the sheet of paper. And
then, just like that, after the thousandth letter, they told him to leave.
Xander couldn't believe it, thinking the whole time that it was a trap, a
cruel trap designed to kill him. Finally, though, resigned to his death,
he
piled the letters into the bag that was set before him and walked out.
And began running when he realized that they weren't following him.
As he got to her apartment, his heartbeat sped up and he found himself
hoping-- no, praying-- that she was still there, that she was still waiting
for him, even after so long. She was there, he knew it, as he could smell
her perfume on the wind. Hoping simply that she was there alone, he burst
through the doors and dropped his satchel on its side, spilling the contents.
He paid no attention as the papers fluttered through the apartment and out
the door from the wind as he scanned the living room quickly.
He started for her bedroom when a single, sealed envelop skittered on the
table with the pressure from the wind and caught his eye.
His heart slowed as he approached it.
The envelope read, in her simple, curling words, "To Whom It May Concern."
Xander picked it up and tore it open. His hands started to shake and he felt
his jaw go numb from clenching it so hard as he read the letter inside. His
eyes slowly filled with tears, and he flipped through it rapidly to the
end.
He looked up, his hazel eyes glittering diamonds and let the letter drift
to
the floor. Slowly, uncertainly, he walked for her bedroom.
"Cordelia? Cordy?" he asked hoarsely, standing outside the door. Afraid.
Fear. Don't open the door, Xander's mind shouted. Not fair, not after so
long and so much.
"Honey? I'm finally home..." The tears spilled over onto his cheeks,
burning a path down to his chin as he threw the door open to see her lying
in
her bed, sleeping. Beautiful. Calm. As lovely as he'd ever seen her.
But no, he was wrong. Not sleeping. Not breathing.
Her perfectly manicured hand was wrapped around an empty prescription bottle
and Xander bolted for her, tearing it away from her palm and kneeling next
to
her on the bed. He took her limp form into his arms and tried to warm her
cold skin, speaking to her as he did.
"It's okay, Cordy. C'mon, Baby. I love you. I'm here now. I'm..." his
voice broke, "I'm so sorry."
Xander began to weep, clinging to her, kissing her unresisting lips over
and
over, salting them with his tears. "I love you, I love you," he chanted as
if his words would bring her back, even though he knew they would not.
Nothing could bring her back. Not these simple words he couldn't stop
whispering, not the thousand pages of words that he had written in the years
without her.
A sheet of paper flew by the door and Xander's eyes locked on it.
So many of those papers, Xander thought, all to waste. All for her.
What he treasured most was now was gone.
The rest was nothing.
The End