Title: Carry On: Cordelia
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?" A voice pushed on the boundary of my fog-draped mind.
"Cordy?"

        It took several seconds of blinking before I could focus completely
on the figure before me. "You've never called me Cordy before," I replied,
hating the fact that my voice sounded like it was painted with tears, even
though it was. "Do you think that now's a good time to start?" I asked,
realizing that it sounded bitchy as the words came out of my mouth. "Sorry,
that wasn't very nice of me."

        "Don't worry about it."

        I rested my chin on my hands and looked at him, dark and brooding
as usual, standing next to the desk where I sat. "Angel, I keep thinking
he's going to walk through that door."

        He sat down on the desk, a strange look in his eyes. A hint of a
smile touched his lips, then faded. "Drunk, like usual, but coming 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."

        I couldn't stop myself from looking toward the door, wishing that
the scenario we'd just decribed would come true. "He shouldn't have died,"
I said softly, swallowing a sob before Angel heard it.

        Angel's eyes met mine. "Cordelia," he said, gentler than I'd ever
heard him speak before, "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..."

        "It doesn't make the pain any less," he finished for me, and I read
more in his eyes than he said. I think I must have looked shocked at what I
saw, because he laid his cool hand over mine. "Don't look so surprised," he
chided. "I may be among the undead, but it doesn't mean I can't feel pain
and loss when my friend dies."

        "I didn't mean - "

        "I know you didn't."

        "It's just that you had this look in your eyes..." I trailed off,
unsure of how to continue, and feeling stupid for bringing it up.
"Nevermind," I finished lamely with a wave of my hand. "I probably should
go."

        I stood up, and gathered my jacket and purse. His voice stopped me
as I reached the door. "You weren't the only one of us who loved him, if
that's what you were wondering."

        I turned back to look at him, my eyes stinging with tears. I felt
my knees weaken, but Angel caught me before I fell, and I pressed my face
to his shirt, trying to keep from falling too far apart. Sobs rose from my
throat before I could stop them. I think Angel was stroking my back as I
cried, but I was more worried about the fact that I couldn't control my
shaking. "Wha-what are we going to do wi-without him?" I asked, the words
punctuated with sobs.

        Something wet dripped into my hair, and I realized he was crying as
well. When he answered me, his voice was rough. "We have to carry on,
Cordelia. We have to do it for Doyle."

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