~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
God, this is so strange. I got out. I actually got out. Not that I expected not to, you understand, but...I'm free. I'm free to go, only...where? I didn't tell Wes, Gunn and Fred I was getting out. I need to make a fresh start, somewhere new. I need to...move on with my life. I need to forget Angel...I need to...do something to get back inside. I was safer in there...I didn't have to *do* anything. Okay, now that sounded like the old Cordelia. The one who was conceited, selfish and completely bitchy. I'm talking about...I didn't have to deal with any of this. I could shove it to the back of my mind and the only time I had to think about it was when I was asleep at night.
Wesley came to see me last week, he seemed kinda strange, like he was itching to tell me something but couldn't. To be honest, I didn't really say much. What could I say? "Oh, hey, I'm getting out next week, wanna let a murderer come work for you?" Yeah, that would go well. Cordelia Chase, never lost her cynical touch, huh?
I know I look different, but am I different? For five years I've coped with his death. Five long years and I've done it alone, it was easy. It's now that's the hard part, coping with other people, people who want to do good...can I do it?
As I step on the bus, bound for New Jersey, my eyes drift towards a young couple, kissing and hugging. God, but that makes my heart ache. It makes me think of Angel, of all that could have been but never was...all that should have been but never will be...
I take my seat and stare out of the window...was this how Buffy felt when she left Sunnydale? Never thought I'd be in the same predicament as she was...I killed the man I love...and now I'm leaving...did she feel better? Because I certainly don't...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"What the bloody hell do you mean, she's not here?" Yelled Wesley Wyndham Price, "This is a MAXIMUM STATE FACILITY...she couldn't have just walked out!" He said, eyes ablaze with anger.
"Sir, Ms. Chase was released this morning...we...assumed you knew."
Wesley was taken aback, "She was released this morning? But...why wouldn't she tell us? Where has she gone?" He asked, knowing full well that the parole boards would have to keep on record the whereabouts of their prisoners. "Classified information sir." Came the reply.
Wesley sighed, "Looks like we'll have to do what we do best..." He said, looking at Fred. "What's that?" Asked the shy young woman.
"Be dectectives." He replied.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
** 3 Months Later **
Remember my theory, sitting on that bus? About feeling better? I don't. Not even slightly. I'm working in a little Irish pub, ironic really, isn't it? Connections to both Angel and Doyle in there. They have that haunting celtic music sometimes that I once heard Angel listen to when he wasn't in the throes of being *really* broody and listening to 'La Boheme'. A guy came in last night...he's been in every night for the past week and a half. He always comes straight to talk to me and smiles a lot. He's nice. He stayed back late last night as I was locking up. He's good friends with the manager and...I'm not sure why he stayed. He helped me clean up though and walked me home. I kissed Angel once, only once. And yet everytime this guy looks at me, I feel like I'm betraying Angel, why is that? We kissed ONCE. And then...he was gone.
Why does it hurt so much, even now? I mean, I'm free of LA, free of all the shit that happened. I left it all behind so that I wouldn't be on the outside looking in, I couldn't do that, not after Sunnydale after the...the...oh God...oh God...no...I was happy! Well, I wasn't happy but...why this, why NOW of all times? Why not before when I didn't know where my place lay in the world? WHY NOW?
The vision ebbed away and Cordelia was left holding her head. "Vision Girl, reporting for duty." She whispered.