Rating: G
Spoilers: Buffy: to present. Angel: “Bachelor Party”
Summary: Cordelia shares a painful memory with Doyle.
Disclaimer: All _Buffy_ and _Angel_ characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions.
Author's Notes: Takes place a few days after “Bachelor Party” on Angel.

Cordelia Chase entered the offices of Angel Investigations. She really didn’t know why she was coming to work. Angel was off in Sunnydale, stalking Buffy Summers because of a vision Doyle had about her.

No Angel, no work. And no work meant vacation, a thing Cordelia usually looked forward to. But it also meant sitting alone in her apartment, watching soaps. That was something she’d rather shave her head bald and wear plaid than do--watch soaps.

She dropped her bag on the desk and sighed. A pile of paperwork that needed to be filed was stacked upon it. Funny, she thought as she picked through it. I don’t remember this stuff being here yesterday.

“So much paperwork,” she muttered as she tossed her raven colored hair over her shoulder. “And do I get any recognition for all of my hard work?” She looked up, gasping loudly when she saw Doyle standing in the doorway leading to Angel’s office. “Doyle!” she exclaimed.

Doyle held up his hands as he joined Cordelia in the outer office. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle ya, Cordy,” he apologized.

“God! I nearly jumped out of my skin,” Cordelia breathlessly continued, her hands still at her breast. She circled the desk, standing in front of it. “I’m probably going to get gray hair now, thanks to you.” She paused, giving Doyle a strange look. “Hey... what are you doing here anyway? Angel’s gone. Shouldn’t you be at a local pub or something?”

“I was, actually,” he replied. He dropped down onto the couch. He looked at his wrist that sported no watch then back to Cordelia. “Last call was about four hours ago.” He attempted to smile.

Cordelia took a few steps closer then got a whiff of him. “Oh... good lord,” she groaned. “You know... beer is taken _internally_, Doyle.” She went back to her desk and fished through her bag. “What’s your damage? You’ve been pretty wrecked before, but not like this. Oh! Here it is!”

She pulled out a small bottle of Chanel # 5 and sprayed the air with it. She took in a deep breath, smiling. “Ahh. That’s much better.” She added a little on Doyle for good measure.

“Hey! Watch it with that stuff, will ya?” Doyle rubbed his dark brown jacket with his hands but the damage was done. “I don’t fancy smellin’ like flowers and a light spring breeze.”

“In your case, it’d do some good.” Cordelia dropped the perfume back into her bag. She turned around, but felt bad about her playful insult when she saw the expression on Doyle’s face. “Really, what’s wrong with you? Walking around like your dog just died.”

Doyle scratched the back of his head. “Been thinkin’,” he said. “Not a good thing to be doing when you’re drunk and in the dumps.” He looked up at Cordelia. She was standing there in the morning sunlight, so beautiful. “What is it that you women have, eh? Sucker us in, twist us around then throw us away...”

Cordelia folded her arms across her chest, her mouth partly hanging open in confusion. “Excuse me? What is _that_ riff?” she asked. After a moment, she realized what this was all stemming from. “Is this about... you know... her?”

Doyle placed his palms together in his lap then opened them. “You read me like a book, darlin’,” he told her with a smile. “Yes, Harry. That’s what I’ve been dwelling on. She did well for herself, didn’t she?”

“I suppose so,” Cordelia flatly agreed. She sighed, her arms falling to her sides. It’s not that she didn’t like Harry, she found the woman quite friendly. It was just that her coming to L.A. and back into Doyle’s life brought him pain. The idea of caring about Doyle’s pain... it was pretty much a non-issue with her until... Well, until he’d risked his life to save her.

“Don’t know why we do it,” Doyle’s voice brought Cordelia out of her thoughts. “I suppose it’s some psychological need... something or other.” He laughed lightly. “Angel probably could explain it better.”

“What the heck are you trying to say?” Cordelia finally asked. “You’re babbling on and on about something, and you’ve lost me.”

“It’s all about love and loss. Loss... of love.” He shrugged, not quite sure of what he was saying himself. “That’s something I’m certain you’ve never had to experience. Someone like you? Heh. Bet there’s a string of broken hearts in your book, I tell ya.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed slightly on Doyle. “You’re laboring under the delusion that it’s some happy walk through Saks when a woman loses love?” she snapped. She surprised herself at how venomous that was. Definitely got Doyle’s attention.

“Did I touch a nerve there, Cordy?” Doyle inquired. He watched her sit down on the opposite end of the couch. “You lose someone?”

“It’s... it was a long time ago,” Cordelia quietly answered. She tucked her hair behind her ear then met Doyle’s gaze. “Really... I’m so over it.” She plastered a fake smile on her face. “I mean, I’d forgotten all about it until you came in here whining and stuff. Oh... not that you can’t, just... well.”

Doyle nodded, pretending right along with her. “I’m sure you’ve over it,” he told her. A beat later, he asked, “Does ‘it’ have a name?”

“Xander... Harris,” Cordelia hesitantly replied. She looked at the floor. “Doesn’t bother me now. It was in high school and I’m my own woman now.” She motioned to herself as she looked back to Doyle. “Empowered and everything.”

Doyle nodded again. “Of course.”

“And just because that... that creep went sneaking around behind my back, and with Willow Rosenberg, of all people--” Her face went dark temporarily at that thought. “Well... Cordelia Chase... she just moves right along!” She slapped her hands on her knees. “We made our peace and went our separate ways. Look at me. Here I am in L.A. and I’m doing well. Getting myself established in the film community. And where is Xander LaVelle Harris? The same old loser stuck in Sunnydale, trapped.”

“He.. cheated on _you_?” Doyle blinked a few times. The mere idea of it was an alien concept. Only an idiot would let someone the likes of Cordelia Chase slip through his fingers.

“I wouldn’t put it in those terms,” Cordelia shortly replied, looking back to Doyle.

“You just did,” he said. He sheepishly shrugged when Cordelia frowned. “So... this guy... Xander. You seen him recently?”

“No. And I don’t want to.” She scoffed. “Like I care about him anymore. He was just another in the long line... and once I found out what he was doing to me. To ME.” She snapped her fingers. “Well, I just dropped him like a bad habit. Sure, he could kiss, but that’s not all I want in a man, you know.”

“Money wouldn’t hurt,” Doyle added.

“Well... yeah,” Cordelia agreed. She considered that then remembered that night Doyle saved her from that awful vampire. When her ritzy date ran away screaming like a little girl, Doyle never even hesitated. She stared at him a moment, thinking of how she’d wanted to give him a chance, to get to know him better. “But that was the old Cordelia, the new and improved Cordelia is looking for substance. Character. Things... like, oh say... you have.”

Doyle had to do a double take, just to make sure that was really Cordy sitting on the other end of the couch. She was paying him a compliment? He figured the niceness from her the week before was nothing but pity on him, or what she felt obligated to do because he’d helped her out.

“Well... Cordelia... I didn’t know you _really_ felt--”

“Didn’t I tell you that I never say things that aren’t true?” Cordelia smiled as she got up from the couch. “Okay. That was real nice. We had that bonding through a personal hardship moment,” she cheerily declared. “Now I have some paperwork to file before our boss returns from his stalking trip.”

Doyle got up from the couch, following Cordelia to the desk. “I could help you,” he offered as she sat down at her desk.

“Oh, no. I’m okay. I can handle this. Gives me something to do,” Cordelia replied as she patted the pile of papers. “Better than sitting around here telling sob stories about stuff we can’t change, right? So, I’ll do this. And you go... wherever it is you go to burn off the alcohol.”

Doyle took a few steps back as Cordelia shooed him away. Everything about her manner and her words would make one think she was all right, but he could see that pain in her eyes. She was a much better actress than she thought.

“Are you sure, because I could--”

“Just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waved a hand, not looking up from the paperwork. “Oh, I’ll be so glad once Angel gets his Buffy jones out of his system, so things can get back to normal around here. Even a thousand miles away that girl is disrupting my life.”

Doyle left the office as Cordelia continued to complain to herself about Buffy Summers.

Cordelia waited until she heard the door slam shut before she stopped talking. She sighed in relief. God, she thought he’d never leave! She leaned back in her chair, staring at the pile of work before her. Everything felt so pointless. Really, how much better off was she in L.A.? What did she have besides a decent apartment with a glorious view?

Shuffling away thoughts of the life she’d once had, the bliss she’d known when she was with Xander Harris, Cordelia lost herself in the wonderful world of alphabetizing and filing.

------

The next morning, Cordelia shuffled into the office once more. Angel was still gone. He’d not called or left a message with them on when he planned to return. She thumped her bag down on her desk, pushing her hair back from her face. That morning she willed herself not to sit around in bed and be a “cry-Buffy”, so she threw on some clothes and dragged herself into work.

“Don’t know why I keep coming here,” she mumbled. Her grumbles trailed off when she saw something sitting on her desk. It was a little gold replica of the Oscar statue. A smile lit up her face as she stroked her fingers over it. On it’s base was something that almost brought tears to her eyes:

Best Actress: Cordelia Chase.

The door opened. Cordelia looked up to see Doyle come into the office. She only smiled at him when he stopped.

“Um... “ Doyle glanced over his shoulder, trying to figure out who Cordelia was grinning at. “What is it? It’s not the suit is it? I worked real hard to color coordinate today.” The clashing dark brown and pea green certainly weren’t doing any sort of coordinating that Cordelia could recognize.

“No. It’s this.” She held up the little Oscar, smiling once more, as she walked over to Doyle. “Doyle, I... I’ve never had anyone do something this nice for me. A cheap piece of plastic junk, but it’s the thought that counts and all.”

“Huh?” Doyle looked at the statue that Cordelia shoved into his face. “What are you talking about? I didn’t give you that.” He shrugged. “Damn witty, whoever it was. Best Actress. And you want to be an actress.”

“Yes, it was very witty of him.” Cordelia gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Whoever he is.” She went back over to her desk and sat down, still beaming. Carefully, she placed the statue where everyone could see it.

“So... I dropped in because I was going for breakfast. Want anything?”

Cordelia shook her head, her eyes still on her “Oscar”. “No, I’m just fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll... I’ll be back later.” Doyle turned around. As he walked out of the offices of Angel Investigations, his hand went to the cheek where Cordelia had kissed him, and a broad grin on his face.

The End.

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