Title: Carry On: Angel
Author: Amatia
Email: beech000@uwp.edu

Pairing: Angel/Doyle
Rating: PG

Notes:Ok...this and it's companion should kind of count for AngelSlash
because of
something Angel says...
Disclaimer: All things "Angel" and "Buffy" belong to Joss (I can't figure
out why everyone's always calling him a crackhead) Whedon. (Maybe because
he killed Doyle!!)
Archiving is always a good thing. :-)

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        Cordelia was sitting at the desk, looking worse than I'd ever seen
her before. Her makeup, which I knew she'd carefully applied this morning,
now outlined the tear tracks down her cheeks, and I could tell she'd given
up on trying to style her hair and just left it in a braid. She looked like
Hell.

        She looked like I felt.

        Knowing I wasn't going to see Doyle ever again hurt. It hurt in the
same way that I missed Buffy. He'd been my friend, the first real friend
that I'd had in decades. And if it wasn't for that damned curse, it might
have been more. He had been so easy to fall in love with, but the curse had
kept me from ever saying anything to him.

        Cordelia was still staring at nothing. "Cordelia?" I said quietly,
stepping into her line of sight, not wanting to startle her. "Cordy?"

        She blinked at me for a moment, then said, "You've never called me
Cordy before. Do you think now's a good time to start?" I could see she
regretted saying it even as she did. "Sorry, that wasn't very nice."

        I figured she had the right to be snappish for awhile. "Don't worry
about it."

        "Angel, I keep thinking he's going to walk though that door."

        I sat down on the desk, and felt a smile try to force itself onto
my face. "Drunk, like usual," I continued, "but coming in here to tell us
he's had a vision while at the bar downing beers."

        "And that we've got to hurry, that you've got to go scope out the
situation, and I've got to try and find whatever ugly demon it is on the
computer or in some musty old book," she finished, looking toward the door
I knew Doyle would never walk through again. "He shouldn't have died."

        I saw her throat work to trap a sob, and met her eyes. "Cordelia,
did you ever stop to think that it was meant to be, that maybe Doyle was
meant to save us? That if he hadn't done what he did, we all would have
died, Doyle included, there in that ship?"

        "I know that, but..."

        I knew how she was feeling. "It doesn't make the pain any less."

        A shocked look came over her face, and I realized I must have let
my eyes show everything I was feeling. I laid my hand over hers. "Don't
look so surprised. I may be among the undead, but it doesn't mean I can't
feel pain and loss when my friend dies."

        There was a hint of red in her cheeks. "I didn't mean - "

        "I know you didn't," I replied softly.

        She looked down at the desk. "It's just that you had this look in
your eyes...nevermind. I probably should go." She stood up, and I watched
her struggle into her jacket and grab her purse from the desk drawer.

        "You weren't the only one of us who loved him, if that's what you
were wondering," I said as she reached the door.

        She turned back, and I could see she was about to fall. I caught
her before she did, and she started crying, deep heaving sobs that caused
her whold body to shake. I felt tears well up in my own eyes, and spill
over. "Wha-what are we going to do wi-without him?" she asked as I stroked
her back to try and calm her sobs.

        "We have to carry on, Cordelia," I replied, my voice sounding
strange to my own ears. "We have to do it for Doyle."

        And for ourselves, because we loved him.

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