Drown by Natassia Title: Drown (1/?) Author: Nastassia Email: blue_flame@angelfire.com Rating: R for violence and character deaths Spoilers: before Pangs and I Will Remember You Feedback: Don't make me beg! Distribution: Link to my site at -- http://Lovers_Walk.tripod.com/start.html Disclaimer: Doyle, Cordelia, Angel et all belong to Joss. Summary: That would completely spoil it. Let's just say it's Cordelia/Doyle. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Drown (1/?) by Nastassia *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Cordelia stepped out of the car into the seemingly empty street. Cordelia glared at the offending car. "That's what you get for buying domestic," she muttered, pulling out her cell phone and angrily punching the keys. "Angel Investigation, we help the homeless....wait that's not right..." "Doyle!" Cordelia snapped, "Your stupid car died! I swear, if I ever volunteer for anything again...shoot me!" "Where are you? I'll take Angel's car and come get you." Cordelia snorted, "Like he'd let you! I'm on the corner of 9th and Hartford." Cordelia froze as she heard a low growl echo through the darkness. "Doyle?" she whispered, "I think someone's here." "Cordelia, listen to me," Doyle ordered. "There's a gun in the glove compartment. Get it now!" "You keep a gun in your glove-" "Just do it, Cordelia!" The growl sounded again, louder this time, and Cordelia frantically ripped open the car's glove compartment. Papers and an assortment of other junk fell onto the floor of the car, along with a Baretta. Snatching the gun, Cordelia turned to face the alleyway, aiming the gun at the darkness. "Princess, what's happening?" "Who's there?" Cordelia called. Snarls. Cordelia's piercing scream. Three rapid gunshots. Then silence.....broken by the harsh gasps of someone dying. "Dammit Cordelia! Talk to me!" Doyle's voice threatened to break as he pleaded with he to say something...anything to let him know she wasn't- "Doyle?" The whisper was soft, so faint that even a creature with enhanced hearing was hard pressed to make it out, but Doyle heard. He always heard whatever Cordelia said. "That's it, Princess. Keep talking." "It....hurts," she managed to gasp. "Doyle....I'm scared." Clamping down on the sobs that threatened to escape his throat, Doyle answered, "So am I." "I'm sorry....for being so mean." Cordelia's words were cut off by a cough. Helplessly, Doyle listened as the woman he loved fought for air. Cordelia's coughs finally abated, and the sound of her pained breaths filled the phone. "Doyle?" Doyle couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "What is it, Cordelia?" "I...love you." Doyle's legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor of the office. "I love you too, Princess. Since the first moment I saw you, I loved you." Silence. "Cordelia? Princess? Cordelia, answer me! ANSWER ME!" Without warning, Doyle crumpled against the wall as a vision seized hold of him. A myriad of disjointed images. Cordelia. A figure hidden by shadows. Blood. He and Cordelia kissing. Cordelia and Angel fighting. Blood. Cordelia. Blood. Cordelia. Blood. Cordelia. Doyle's mind threatened to overload on the images assaulting him, and he slumped bonelessly to the floor, on the verge of unconsciousness. The only thread that kept him hanging on was Cordelia. Sweet, beautiful Cordelia. The thread snapped. *~*~* Anguish. A vampire can sense despair at twenty paces, and I felt it halfway down the street. As I made his way closer to his home, the sense of foreboding increased. Upon entering the office, it became almost stifling. "Doyle? Cordelia?" The sound of muffled sobs drew my attention to the desk and Doyle. Deeply concerned, I crouched down beside my friend. "Doyle?" I whispered, trying to draw the half-demon out of the daze he was in. "Doyle, what happened?" Doyle's eyes focused on me for the first time. The pain written in them was so intense that knowledge of what had happened hit me like a kick in the face. There was only one thing that could reduce Doyle to this. Cordelia. "Doyle, what happened?" I tried again. "They got 'er," he whispered, shakily. "She called me, and I heard...." Doyle's eyes strayed to the plain black phone still clutched in his hand, and he dropped it, recoiling from the piece of plastic as if he thought it would bite him. "She's dead, Angel. I heard her die. She was alone....and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save her!" I silenced his friend's halting speech with an understanding look. "Did she say where she was?" Doyle nodded weakly. "9th and Hartford." "I'll go," I offered, rising to his feet. "I'm going with you." "Someone should stay here in case she calls." Doyle stiffened at my words and I silently cursed myself. When Doyle spoke again, his voice only wavered slightly. "She's not goin' to call, Angel." "Doyle-" Doyle's replied in a voice filled with quiet determination. "I need to know, Angel. I need to know for myself." *~* I made the twelve mile drive in under five minutes, breaking most of the cities traffic laws in the process. I really could have given a damn about the law at that moment. It was quite likely that Cordelia was dead, and if that was true..... I stole a glance at Doyle, staring silently out the window at his car, abandoned by the side of the deserted street. I turned off the engine. "Doyle," I offered, "You can stay here." He shook his head. "I can't." The air reeked of death and fear. The front doors of Doyle's car hung open haphazardly. The faint smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, overpowered by the strong odor of blood. "There's my gun," Doyle stated, gesturing towards the left rear tire. I reached down to retrieve the gun and froze. Laying a few feet away from the gun was a pale, very obviously female hand. Unwillingly, my eyes followed the line of her arm to her face. Even in death Cordelia was still beautiful. I closed my eyes, trying to block the image of her dark sightless eyes boring into mine. I forced my eyes open, and I knelt beside her, noting the deep claw marks that had ripped open her chest and abdomen. The phone was still clutched in her other hand. Her last lifeline. "Doyle, stay back," I ordered, reaching down to close Cordelia's eyes. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" I whirled around to see Doyle clutching the side of the car, looking as though he was fighting to keep from being sick. I chastised myself. I stood by silently as Doyle dropped to his knees, sobbing as he cradled Cordelia's broken body in his arms. "I'm sorry, Princess. I'm so sorry." Reverently, Doyle placed a kiss on her raven hair. "I'm going to find who did this, Angel, and I'm going to kill them." I shivered at the ice in his voice. "_We_ will find out who did this," I corrected him. Then I walked to my car, leaving Doyle alone with his love and his grief. My mind dimly registered that I had to call the police, but it was my last priority. There was nothing they could do if the culprit wasn't human. Instead, I shut myself in the car and allowed the facade of strength I had kept up for Doyle's sake to crumble. I cried. *~*~* The police came, bringing their sirens and flashing red and blue lights that gave the scene an even more surreal feeling. The voices of the police failed to erase the cold silence that had permeated the street. They continued with their business, ignoring the unnatural feeling in the air and concentrating on their work of cataloging another grisly death with a clinically detached air. Doyle was sitting alone on the bumper of a police car, staring unblinkingly at the medics zipping up Cordelia's body bag and loading it into the coroner's van. The harsh red lights flashed across his features, briefly making his ashen face appear the colour of blood. For a second his haunted eyes locked with mine before returning to Cordelia. The sudden shiver that went through me had nothing to do with temperature. "Angel?" "What is it, Kate?" I asked wearily, not bothering to look at her. "I need to get statements from both of you." I didn't answer, and Kate took my lack of response as refusal. "Angel, I'm sorry, but it's-" "-Procedure," I answered, breaking my gaze away from Doyle. "I know." "Do you think your friend will be able to do it?" The genuine concern in Kate's voice made my opinion of her rise a few notches, but that was far from important right now. Nodding faintly, I whispered, "He's going to have to." *~* "I was in the office, waiting for Angel to get back. The phone rang, and it was Cordelia. She had borrowed my car to run an errand, and it broke down. She was pretty pissed at the whole situation, and I told her I'd take Angel's car and come get 'er. Then...." Doyle froze. "Then what?" Kate prompted gently. Doyle shook his head frantically, and I understood what he was doing. If he told Kate how Cordelia had died, he would be admitting that she was really dead. Doyle's voice was harsh when he finally spoke, his repressed tears thickening his already heavy accent. "She said, 'I think someone's 'ere.' I told 'er to get my gun out of the glove compartment-" "The gun was yours?" I glared at the young male cop had, until now, been silently observing the questioning. "In case you 'aven't noticed, this isn't a very safe city." Doyle laughed bitterly before continuing. "I heard some kind of growl. Cordelia screamed and fired three times. Then everything was quiet. I kept begging 'er to tell me if she was okay. She said my name and that....she was scared. She said she was sorry for being mean to me." Doyle's voice was barely audible when he spoke the next words. "She told me she loved me." "What happened next?" This time it was Kate's turn to glare at the interloper. "She died," Doyle whispered. "Why didn't you call the police earlier? Even more importantly, why didn't you call an ambulance?" the cop asked, an accusing tone in his voice. "What was I supposed to do?" Doyle demanded, "Hang up on her? Put her on hold so she could die alone while I chatted with the 911 operator who couldn't have saved her anyway?" Doyle was hovering very close to the breaking point, and I wasn't about to let Officer Asshole push him over the edge. "Kate, can I see you and Detective-" "Jamison." "-outside?" I finished, not acknowledging that Jamison had spoken. "We're in the middle of something." I turned, ready to unleash the full force of my fury on this insensitive bastard who was so blatantly implying that Doyle was responsible for Cordelia's death. Instead, in a low deadly voice, I said, "I don't think I was talking to you." Without further protest, they followed me into the hallway. "Where do you get off doing that to him?!" I exploded. "Don't you think he's suffered enough?! " "I'm sorry, Angel," Kate began, "But it's standard procedure-" "It's not standard procedure for Officer Friendly over there to practice his Bad Cop routine on Doyle!" I snapped. "Angel, calm down-" "No, I will not calm down, damn it!" The awareness that I was yelling at two cops in the middle of a police precinct failed to slow my tirade. "Cordelia was like a sister to me, and Doyle was in love with her. If you're planning on charging us with something, do it! Otherwise, let us go so we can grieve in peace." "You and your friend can go home. Just don't leave town. We'll call in there are any leads or if we need to ask either of you more questions." Kate paused before softly adding, "I really am sorry, Angel." "So am I." *~*~* Doyle didn't speak during the ride back to the office. I didn't really expect him to, but something about his silence bothered me. Something about his mannerisms was...off. Buried beneath the grief was something else besides the expected anger and sadness. It was unnerving. When we entered the darkened building, Doyle finally spoke up. "Angel, I need to be alone," he said quietly. Nodding in agreement, I replied, "Go downstairs. Try to sleep or drink yourself unconsciousness, whichever works." The only answer I received was the sound of the ancient elevator's doors slamming shut, leaving me alone in the office. I sank down onto the chair and rested my head on the desk, giving in to the weariness that had permeated my bones. Scant seconds later, I forced myself to sit up. The office was just too quiet without her. Cordelia had been the one to bring vitality to the cold routine that my existence had become after I left Sunnydale. She refused to let me feel sorry for myself. She was stubborn, confident, and courageous. The concept of tact continually eluded her, but that just made her more endearing. She possessed a timeless beauty reminiscent of an ancient Goddess. I had grown to love her, and now she was gone. One more person I had failed to protect. My eyes strayed to the phone, still on the floor where Doyle had dropped it, and I shuddered at the realization of what I had to do. Grabbing the receiver, I dialed the familiar numbers with surprisingly steady fingers. "Hello?" "Giles, it's Angel." There was silence on the line for several moments, causing me to wonder if he was still there. "Giles?" "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Can you come to LA as soon as possible? Everyone needs to come here....Willow, Xander...." A beat. "Buffy...." "Angel, what is this about?" "Giles, please, just do this without asking questions." The Watcher seemed to sense the desperation in my voice. "We'll try to be in Los Angeles by tomorrow evening." "Thank you," I whispered. As I hung up the phone, I wondered if I hadn't just made a horrible mistake. To say that seeing Buffy would be painful would be the understatement of the decade. It would be agony, but this wasn't about me. It was about Cordelia, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her friends that she had been brutally murdered over the cold impersonality of the phone lines. I debated going downstairs to check on Doyle and decided against it. Talking wasn't going to help him. The pain was too fresh. Doyle would have the rest of his life to cope with Cordelia's death. If he wanted to shut out the world and try to forget, I wasn't going to stop him. At least, not tonight. *~*~* Continues