Title: Restless Winds (3/3) in the "Who I
Am, What I'll Become" Series
Author: X_tremeroswellian
Email: X_tremeroswellian@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: If wishes were horses...*Sigh*
They're Joss Whedon's. I also don't own Vogue Magazine. Clayton
Gilman, however, is my own creation.
Rating: PG-13 for language, situations and slight sexual content
Spoilers: Up through "Are You Now or Have You Ever
Been," and the first eight stories in this series,
especially the first one, "Illusions." One scene in
here is reminiscent of one that took place in
"Untouched," but was re-worked for storyline purposes.
Summary: As tensions grow among the Angel Investigations team,
Cordelia grows restless.
Distribution: Let me know the link. Anyone with permission to
archive the other stories in this series may take it without
asking. Otherwise its permanent home is at the "Who I
Am" site: www.geocities.com/angel_roswell/whoiam.html.
Category: Story
Subcategories: Angst/tension/friendship/romance type of thing.
Feedback: Is greatly appreciated.
Dedication: This one's for Julia. Thanks for all the feedback! :)
Author's Note: To everyone who's been reading this series,
especially my fellow A/C shippers, I'm having lots of fun writing
these fics. There's a long, bumpy road ahead, so hold on.
Restless Winds (Part 3)
Wesley was asleep outside of her apartment.
Cordelia stared down at him in confusion. It was nearly midnight.
What the hell was he doing sleeping in the hallway?
"Wesley? Wesley! Wake up," she said, shaking him.
His eyes opened. "Cordelia." He yawned.
"What are you doing?"
"I was, uh...waiting for you."
"Okay. Why?"
"Because...you said you were coming back to the office and
you never did. I was worried."
Cordelia suddenly felt guilty. "Sorry, Wes. I didn't mean to
make you worry. I just lost track of time." He stood up as
she unlocked the door to her apartment and held it open for him.
"Come on in."
Wesley followed her into the living room, shutting the door
behind them. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice
concerned.
"I'm fine. I..." she hesitated. "Met someone. We
went to dinner."
He stared at her. "What?"
Cordelia tried not to feel annoyed by the shock in his voice.
"I went out on a date. You know. That thing where a guy asks
a girl out and pays for dinner. Sometimes a movie or dancing is
involved. Ring any bells?"
Wesley blinked. "Vaguely. May I ask who this 'guy' is?"
"Don't even think of going into overprotective mode,"
she warned. "He's a gentleman, and a famous
photographer."
"Really? Anyone I would have heard of?"
She raised an eyebrow. "He's a fashion photographer,
Wesley."
"Oh."
"His name is Clayton Gilman." She watched him for a
reaction.
"I see." He hesitated. "And how was your
date?"
Cordelia smiled. "It was great." She dropped her purse
onto the couch. "And, guess what else?"
"What?"
"He's going to show some of my photos to a bunch of fashion
editors for magazines he free-lances for."
"Modeling?" Wesley stared at her.
"Gee, Wes. Could you sound a little less enthusiastic? I'm
overwhelmed by your excitement here," she said
sarcastically.
"It's just...what about Angel?"
"What about Angel?" she demanded.
"You already have a job."
"Doesn't mean I can't have a second one. It's not like I'm
rolling in dough here on what Angel pays me," Cordelia
pointed out. "Besides, it's not like we're real busy at
work, anyway. And even if we were, Angel's too preoccupied with
whatever it is he's brooding over to actually save any
souls." She frowned, feeling upset about her confrontation
with Angel earlier.
"Yes, he is very preoccupied lately," Wesley agreed
quietly with a sigh. "Honestly, I don't know what's wrong
with him."
"Well, if he's too proud to talk to us about what's going on
he doesn't need to take it out on us, either." She glanced
at him. "Did he say anything when I left?"
He paused. "No. Actually, he left shortly after you
did."
Cordelia rolled her eyes in disgust. "Well, I for one, am
not going to sit and fret over whatever it is. If he doesn't want
to talk to me, fine. If he wants to be a big jerk, fine. But I'm
going to get a life. Maybe you should think about doing the
same."
"Cordelia," Wesley hesitated again.
"What?"
He looked down. "It's just...I don't want to be the only one
to..." his voice trailed off.
She realized what he was trying to say and she sat down next to
him. "I'm not quitting Angel Investigations, Wesley. It's
not even a sure deal. I'm not sure any of the editors will want
me to model for their magazines, anyway."
Wesley glanced at her. "Of course they will. They'd be fools
not to."
Cordelia smiled, touched. "Thanks. But regardless of what
happens, I'm not going anywhere. You're not going to be alone,
Wesley."
He smiled back, looking relieved. "So how did you meet Mr.
Gilman, anyway?"
"Well, I was at David's party last night, and I was getting
ready to leave when suddenly out of nowhere he was there..."
Cordelia lay awake, staring at her bedroom
ceiling at three in the morning again.
No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't seem to fall
asleep and stay that way. She sighed and turned over onto her
side, staring out the window for a change. She could see the
stars in the sky from that angle.
Something kept tugging at the back of her mind, and she found she
couldn't ignore it.
Angel had never spoken to her like that before. *Ever.*
Sure, he occasionally got angry or upset and raised his voice a
bit, but he had never actually yelled at her before.
She had only been fifteen minutes late. He wouldn't have snapped
at her like that over something so petty unless...
Unless something was wrong.
Cordelia reached over and picked up her telephone receiver,
hitting button one on speed dial. She wasn't terribly surprised
when there was no answer. So either he'd forgotten to turn his
cell phone on, or he'd just left it off on purpose.
She considered calling the front desk of the Hyperion, knowing
someone--probably Gunn--would be awake and there in case someone
needed a place to stay. She thought about having him go to
Angel's room and bringing him to the phone; then she grimaced at
the thought. First of all, she was pretty sure Gunn didn't like
her all that much, and secondly, Angel would be pissed if she'd
sent Gunn to wake him up for no real reason.
She tried to push all thoughts of Angel out of her mind, and
attempted to focus on thoughts of Clayton instead. He was a nice
guy, definitely a gentleman, and a well-dressed one at that. He
had a good job, and she sincerely liked him. They'd had a good
time at dinner, talking about celebrities, fashion, and modeling.
She enjoyed his company. Which was a good thing, considering the
fact that he'd asked her out to dinner later that week and she'd
said yes.
Maybe this was exactly what she needed. Something to distract her
from her non-life. Something that she could look forward to.
So why didn't she feel peaceful like she had a few weeks ago?
That name crept into her conscious mind again and she sat up,
highly annoyed. "Dammit, Angel. You're the one being the
jerk, so why the hell should I be the one stuck feeling
guilty?" she said aloud.
Her water glass floated off her nightstand and hovered in front
of her. She smiled despite her mood. "Thanks, Dennis. Don't
worry, I'm not going insane or anything." She took a drink
of the water and set it back down. "Angel and I had this
fight today. You know how I mentioned he hasn't been to work in
three days? Well, he got mad at me today because I was a few
minutes late. He actually hinted that maybe I shouldn't work for
him anymore. Jerk."
Cordelia stared at her bedspread in the darkness. "It's not
like I can quit, even if I wanted to. Which I don't. At least I
don't think I do. I don't know. What if he really doesn't want me
there anymore? What if...Buffy was right and he's just keeping me
around out of pity or something?"
Her light flipped on and lipstick writing appeared on her mirror.
"She's wrong," it read.
She smiled. "Thanks. It's just...he's acting all weird. I
mean, okay, he's broody and he's always been broody, but
now...he's broody and he was mean to me. He's never been *mean*
to me before. So why do I feel guilty for it? I didn't do
anything wrong. At least I don't think I did." She sighed in
frustration and climbed out of bed. She walked over to her window
and unlocked it before she pulled it open. She breathed in a
lungful of fresh air, and felt a bit calmer.
She climbed up and sat on the windowsill. The wind was warm and
she could smell the salt from the Pacific. She looked across the
way, staring at all the twinkling city lights.
"What I'm going to do, Dennis?" she whispered.
Her only response was from the restless wind murmuring tales of
its own melancholia.
~The End~