Summary: This is in response to Niccy's fic challenge:
Cordelia leaves Xander
at the altar, and ten years later they meet again.
Spoilers: Minor through the third season.
Disclaimer: Joss.
Rating: PG
Feedback: I beg of you.
Thanks to Tracy for beta-ing, and Niccy for the awesome challenge.
by: Amy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She'd been watching him for months. He looked good-- Clean, fit, successful.
He was slimmer than she remembered, and his hair was shorter, but he was
just as handsome. If not more so.
That night the moon was hanging low and heavy in the sky, tinted gold. She
stared out the window, up at it, for a moment before turning her attention
back to the man sitting across the restaurant. He was eating alone, as he
almost always did. His movements were lazy and relaxed, as they almost
always were. She sighed, calling herself a stalker, and brushed the hair
out
of her face.
She didn't know why she had ever left Xander.
She remembered the day so clearly, the burned imprint of it still haunted
the
waking sleep that she felt she was always walking around in. The wedding
dress; So perfectly white, whiter than snow or lilies. The veil, trimmed
in
the most beautiful lace she had ever seen. The letter that she had read
before she left.
She had been in the dress before she had come to the decision to leave. She
didn't remember actually making the decision-- it just sort of carried her
feet away from where they were supposed to be-- but she remembered being
in
the dress. Her hair had been piled on top of her head in a smooth twist,
the
dress fit her body as if it had been made for it, which it had. The amethyst
and diamond necklace and earrings that Xander had given her had sparkled
more
brightly on that day than on any other. But she had taken the gown off very
carefully, and the ring and earrings and necklace in succession, wondering
the whole time what she was doing. She would have made the perfect bride,
if
she had been able to steady her heart.
He would have been the perfect groom.
Taking another sip of her coffee, she made a face at the bitterness and then
sighed again. Someone had once said that coffee was like relationships. Hot
and bitter.
Cordelia thought that maybe they were right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had tried to get in contact with any of them-- The only one she had been
able to reach was Oz, and he wasn't too happy with her either. But, being
the same person he had always been, when her tears started, his voice lost
its edge, and he consoled her for a little while before telling her about
the
others.
Giles and Willow were married and expecting, and Angel had died. Those small
pieces of news brought Cordelia both brilliant smiles over something she
had
never expected but always thought would be nice, and unabashed weeping for
the part of her life that Angel had represented. Youth, vitality, the dark
memories of hushed meetings in graveyards. As much as she had hated those
times, she now treasured them as only one who is older can. What other
person outside of that group had ever had such caring, loyal people in their
lives? None that she could think of.
Buffy was still slaying, and she and Oz had dated for a while. They were
still good friends-- everyone in the old gang was-- but sometimes only kept
in distant touch. Oz's band was beginning to really take off, after years
of
work and hopes, and Buffy's life was so busy. He also kept in contact with
the Watcher and his wife, who were deliriously happy.
At that point in the conversation, Cordelia had asked him to stop. He
hesitated and she continued in a trembling voice. "And... Xander? You
haven't mentioned him."
"Cordelia." Oz paused for a moment. "I think you'll have to ask Xander
about himself. He's alive if that's what you're worried about."
"No," she admitted softly, "I know he's alive. He looks... good."
"Ask him," Oz encouraged quietly. "And see how good he really is."
"I don't... I don't want to..." Her voice faltered and then gained back
strength. "I don't want to bring back bad memories. There are too many of
those. And, if he's happy, I don't want to bother him."
His voice got low. "I will tell you one thing, Cordy, and hopefully it'll
help you make your decision. He's never gotten over that day. I don't want
to make you upset, but even with everything he's been through-- before and
since-- that day is the one thing he's never moved past. It's hard to look
at him now, sometimes, because you know he's thinking about it, and he has
that dark, sad look on his face."
She was weeping silently. In the months that she had seen him, she had also
seen that look. She suddenly understood it, and it hurt. After a while, she
finally broke the tense silence hanging on the other end of the line. "I'll
ask him," she choked out, "Thank you."
His voice softened again, in that way that Oz had always had, that way that
made him unbearably accepting and charming. "Thank you for calling me,
Cordy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had been watching him for over an hour, and still didn't know what to
say. Cordelia knew that soon he would finish his meal and get up and her
chance would be over. Possibly forever. She licked her lips, trying to
still her rapidly beating heart, and stood.
Walking over to him stiffly, she stood by his table for over a minute before
he looked up. His eyes caught hers and his fork clattered the the plate as
recognition set in. He let out a breath that sounded like her name, a
surprised little word, and then he closed his mouth and looked away. When
he
spoke again, his voice was steady and even and serious. It was something
she
had never heard before.
"Cordelia." He greeted her with hardly any inflection, but she took it as
a
sign that he would let her talk. She seated herself uneasily across from
him.
"Xander," she replied softly. "Can we talk?"
He smirked and threw his napkin on the table, leaning back against his chair.
"Sure, why not? How've you been?" The sarcasm was apparent in his voice,
and Cordelia flinched with sudden pain.
"Not good. You?"
"Okay. I'm going through something of a bad divorce right now. With someone
who actually showed up at the altar."
"O-oh," she stuttered out, surprised. "Do I know her?"
"Anya."
Her eyes widened. "Demon Anya? How long have you two been married? Why are
you guys getting divorced?"
He laughed, a sound without mirth. " We were married about eight months ago.
How's that for waiting for you to come back? And then she found out why
people on Earth cheated on each other, and decided to try it for herself.
I
never had the best luck with women, anyway." He glared at her, clearing his
throat. "Now, I should be going." He started to stand, but she placed her
hand on his arm. He stared at it dumbly for a moment, stunned by her touch,
and then eased himself back into his seat. "What do you want?" he sighed
heavily.
< To have you love me again. > "To explain."
"All right." He spread his hands wide in front of him, as if in offering.
"Try. Because I don't think that there's a real explanation for any of it.
But if you're willing to look foolish and make a fool out of me for the
second time, go ahead. I'm listening."
She nodded slowly, blinking back the tears that burned behind her eyelids.
Taking a deep breath, she began. "I got a letter before I left you.... On
our wedding day."
"Old boyfriend?" he interrupted snidely.
"No. From my mother. You know that she and my father... disapproved of our
getting married. You know how they were." She paused, gulping. "How they
didn't want me to marry you. So I was happy to get the letter; I thought
maybe they were saying that they could live with it after all, that they
loved me enough to love whoever I did." A tear escaped her eye and she
brushed at it furiously.
"I should have known better than to hope for something like that from them.
I shouldn't have opened the letter. But I did. My mother was saying that
my
father had had a heart attack-- That he was dead. She told me he died with
my name on his lips, and that it was my fault. All of it, my fault," she
told him, keeping her voice low in an attempt to assuage the tears. "The
next thing I'm really conscious of is driving away and crying. I know I must
have done it, I even remember taking off the dress and writing you the note,
but it doesn't seem real to me. I wanted to marry you so badly, Xander.
But..." she trailed off, looking at her trembling hands.
His voice was less harsh and he leaned forward imperceptibly. "But...?"
"But what if I hurt you in the same way I hurt him? What if somehow, you
died and it was my fault because I had done something against what you had
wanted of me?"
A small smile lifted his lips, but he hid it quickly. "You never did
anything I wanted of you. Except say yes when I asked you to marry me."
She let out a half laugh, half sob. "And then I didn't show up."
"No," he agreed, pained. "You didn't."
"And I've been deteriorating ever since."
He stared at her. "You still look beautiful to me," he admitted softly. And
she did. Her hair still had its shiny sheen and her dark eyes glimmered with
tears. Secret eyes, he had always called them, because he was sure they had
held all of the secrets that she would one day tell him about. All of the
things in her soul that she was supposed to have shared with him and didn't.
He looked down and saw that his hand was reaching for hers-- He instantly
pulled it away.
"I mean on the inside, Xander. Why did you just do that?" she asked,
noticing his reach for her.
"Do what?"
"Pull away from touching me."
He raked his fingers through his hair, a gesture that Cordelia remembered
him
doing whenever something serious was going on in his mind. "It would be too
easy to forgive you, Cordelia, after that story. After hearing your reason,
though I was sure that no reason would have been good enough to forgive.
I
spent three years looking for you. And then I spent the next three years
drinking myself into oblivion. I just got my life together, I work at a
bank and still help with the Slaying, and I'm not ready to fall into our
habits of kissing to make up."
Her mouth quirked. "Bank? I though you were going to become a comedian."
"What can I say?" he asked quietly. "I lost my funniness after you left."
The humor was gone from the situation and her face again, and she regarded
him with those eyes of hers. "I'm sorry. If that makes any difference."
He nodded shortly. "I think it does. What have you been doing these past...
ten years?"
"I write books under a pseudonym," she answered, settling into the
conversation with him, almost comfortably.
His beautiful eyebrows arched. "Really? What name?"
"Caitlin Myers."
He sat back again. "Well, I'll be dammed. You mean you wrote... I always
thought that book sounded a lot like..."
"Us." She smiled wryly. "Yeah. You read it? You used to hate reading."
"I still do, unless it's good. And this was. It was the title that made me
pick it up. I was sure you didn't remember that nick name I used to call
you, but when I saw it, it brought back a lot of memories, so I snatched
it
off the shelf."
She smiled. "What were you doing in the bookstore, anyway?"
He grinned. "Trying to find a present for Giles and Will's wedding."
"Ah...." Cordelia nodded. "I heard about that. How are they?"
His eyes took on an excited happy edge, and he was suddenly filled with a
youthful enthusiasm that she had been missing for so many years. "The baby's
a boy. That's strictly confidential information-- Even Giles doesn't know
yet, but he doesn't want to-- so don't tell anyone. She's eight months
along, and looking good for a pregnant lady...." He trailed off, and his
eyes took on that look that Oz had described and that she had seen. Sad,
thinking, wondering about something.
"What is it?" she finally asked.
He licked his lips. "Nothing, I was just wondering if you had ever, you
know, gotten married. Had kids."
Her eyes locked with his and she slowly shook her head. "I haven't been in
love with a man since you. I haven't kissed a man since the night before
our
wedding. I haven't wanted to."
Xander just looked at her, swallowing convulsively. He picked up his fork
again and stabbed at some pasta, before throwing it back down. Picking up
his wineglass, he took a long draw from the deep maroon liquid and then
looked back up. "This has been informative."
"Informative?"
"Yeah. I learned that if you hadn't left, we would have stayed together and
have been happy, but since you did, there's no way of recapturing it. I just
don't know what to say to you, Cordy," he whispered thickly.
"No way?" she whispered back, her voice hollow.
Their eyes caught yet again and his own glittered with hazel, the tears
refusing to fall. Slowly he leaned forward and brushed a loose strand of
her
hair back, tucking it tenderly behind her ear. "I have missed you, Secret
Eyes."
Her lips reddened with repressed weeping. "I've missed you too. Nighthawk."
An unrestrained, boyish laugh escaped his lips and he smiled broadly at her.
"Well, listen. I have a copy of the book by the same name up at my
apartment. If you feel up to it, I'd love a signature from the author."
Xander kept is words light, but his face regarded hers seriously,
understanding that what she chose to do at that moment would determine her
place in his life from then on.
A slow smile, bordering on ecstatic, spread over her face and she nodded.
"I
love giving autographs," she said hopefully.
He lifted his head and smiled back at her. Pulling out his wallet, he threw
some bills on the table and then stood, holding out his hand to help her
up.
She took it, trembling slightly at the remembered electricity between them.
They clasped hands warmly and started out of the restaurant.
"Umm... Cordy?" Xander asked, thinking about all of the places they used
to
go, and the memories they had.
"Uh huh?" She was perky, happy, and couldn't stop smiling. The secrets in
her eyes were no longer withheld from him.
"Do you still have the same car?"
She looked at him sideways. "Actually, yes.... Why?"
He gave a nervous laugh as they approached it, and gave her hand a light
squeeze. "Why don't you let me drive?"
The End