Title: Music for the Heartbroken
Author: meagan
Summary: Cordelia reconsiders pushing Xander out of her life.
Spoilers: Everything plus _Angel_.
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. I could never come up with characters like this. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB (even though they really don't deserve it after what they did to us this season), and anyone else I forgot. And there's one non-_BtVS_ character in here. It's owned by (I think) ABC.
Rating: G, I think. Maybe PG, but not by much.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Notes: The first batch of lyrics is from "worthy" written and performed by Ani DiFranco from her album _Not a Pretty Girl_. The second is "it hurt so bad," written by Tom Hambridge and performed by Susan Tedeschi on her album _just won't burn_, and the last song is "you need to be with be," written and performed by Susan Tedeschi on the same album. I apologize in advance for the cheezy ending.
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Normally, Cordelia would be upset at the music drifting through her open window, especially since it was interrupting her evening nap, not to be confused with her afternoon nap. There was no way around it, though. The apartment was too warm to leave the windows closed, especially since the air conditioning was broken, and the apartment complex's acoustics were such that any sounds in one unit bounced around until they infiltrated any other unit with an open window. But this particular song on this particular day fit her mood perfectly.
** you think you're not worthy
** i'd have to say i agree
** i'm not worthy of you
** you're not worthy of me
Running her fingers along the trim on the couch cushion next to her head, she contemplated things she wasn't supposed to know about. She had overheard Angel talking to Doyle the previous evening. She had tried not to listen -- she had been having problems sleeping lately, and she welcomed any opportunity to doze -- but the conversation would not let her go.
Xander was going to be in Los Angeles that weekend.
He had called Angel, hoping for but not expecting a place to stay. And he had asked Angel to keep the visit a secret from her, so he was going to stay with Doyle since she shared Angel's apartment at the moment, until she could afford to get a place of her own. When she had deciphered that part of the conversation, she had been upset that Xander was avoiding her. Then she had calmed down, and she remembered she hadn't been speaking to him since the previous winter except to insult him. And she hadn't even bothered to do that much since graduation.
No wonder he didn't want to see her.
She knew he had been behind the mysterious purchase of her prom dress, of course. Even though he had known she would be there to see Wesley, he had bought it anyway, apparently just to see her smile one last time. Just like Buffy did everything she could to save the prom for the rest of the group, Xander had done what he could to save the evening for her. He hadn't told her, but the light in his eyes when he saw her in the dress, smiling and on the arm of another man, had been enough for her to figure it out. She had no idea what caused him to deem her worthy of such a gift. Maybe it was all selfish -- a way to alleviate the guilt he felt. But it all boiled down to one thing. After all the pain she had gone through, he had wanted to see her smile one more time. To make sure she still remembered how.
And now he was denying her one last chance to see him smile. To let her try to make him smile.
A loose thread on the cushion caught her eye. She half-heartedly picked at it. The heat made her want to do nothing more than crawl in a basement and cry herself to sleep. She was feeling far too melancholy to do anything else. On the up side, at least she didn't have any summer romance memories with him. No, her summers were always spent with her family in some semi-exotic locale. Not ever with him. So she had no fear of remembering some sweet thing he did for the Fourth of July or some random August morning.
She realized the music had changed. No longer Ani DiFranco, two Japanese girls were singing about boiling water and a spoon. She recognized this song. The band had performed at the Bronze two years ago, when Buffy had returned from spending the summer at her father's in full bitch on wheels persona. The group had finished this song before playing a song that prompted Buffy to all but mate with Xander on the dance floor. Remembering the expression of pain on his face brought a tear to her eye. Thinking about it made her want to track him down and hold him while he cried himself to sleep. Maybe he would do the same for her.
That was enough remembering. Time to get out of that apartment and be somewhere with other people. Like the diner down the street. Maybe that would be the distraction she needed in order to be able to forget. If only for little while. She pulled her hair into a lopsided bun. What did it really matter what she looked like? She was just going out in order to not be alone in her apartment. So she could be alone with lots of people around her.
~~~~
Just her luck. The crew at the diner had selected a blues cd. Yay, depression. At least it fit her mood, too.
** I miss the arms that used to hold me
** The tender way we used to kiss
** I miss the way that you touched me
** I miss the sweet taste of your lips
His lips. Her own lips itched with the memory of him. She lifted her fingers to her mouth. She wasn't sure whether it was to feel pressure once again or to rub off the memory.
The diner was humming with activity. She wasn't surprised. It was a warm Friday evening. Payday and date night. At nearly every table, there were various combinations of teens and adults, chattering away about work or the latest movie they would be seeing later that weekend. She dimly recalled a time of her life when her mind was preoccupied with the same matters. It seemed a lifetime ago. There were a few seats at the counter, scattered between people discussing whatever it was that happy people talked about. She chose a seat near the end of the counter between two young teenaged girls -- discussing whether Ricky Martin was gay, as if it was going to make a difference to them -- and a vaguely familiar-looking and obviously withdrawn young man concentrating on writing something in a leather-bound journal. With a fountain pen. She hadn't seen anyone use a fountain pen since Giles. Entranced, she watched the pen move.
** It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so bad
** You were the best man I ever had
** Why was I so blind to see?
** Now the biggest fool is me
"Great music for the heartbroken, isn't it?" His voice broke her concentration. His very, very familiar voice.
"Xander?" Was that *her* voice? Sad and hopeful at the same time.
He dropped the pen. Ink splattered across the page. "Cordelia?" It was more of a breath than a voice that uttered her name. Quickly, he stood and began to gather his things. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you would be around here. Angel said --"
The tears from earlier were returning. "Please don't go." She turned, gazing at his hand, frozen at her words. She tried to lift her eyes to meet his, wondering what he was thinking, but found she was powerless to do so. Maybe she would be okay as long as their eyes didn't meet.
"I have to." His voice sounded as sad as she felt. "If I don't go now, I'll never be able to leave."
"Is that a bad thing?" Again, she couldn't believe that was *her* saying the words. She sounded wistful. Pathetic.
The hand she had been watching lifted to her face. The fingers brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen loose, tucking it behind her ear. They drifted to her cheek, stroking her skin, thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth. "I'm not sure now." He sighed, hand dropping to his side. "Yeah, it is."
She stood, staring at the floor, hoping for inspiration. Instead, all she found was desperation. "Just tell me one thing, okay? Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?"
She smiled briefly, a ghost of a vague memory of happiness flitting across her face. He was just so damned cute when he was being dense. Then again, her phrasing wasn't too precise. And she wasn't sure which statement she wanted to be clarified. "'Great music for the heartbroken.'"
"Yeah, I did."
Her eyes moved from the floor to his feet. It wasn't much, but it was progress. She watched as the feet took a step closer to her.
"Excuse me!" The bright voice of a clumsy fellow diner patron attempting to pass by interrupted their thoughts. The man stumbled, knocking Cordelia into Xander's arms. "Oh, I'm sorry, miss. It's a good thing your boyfriend caught your fall."
Absently, Cordelia nodded. "Yeah, good thing."
Xander grimaced. He recalled the last time Cordelia had fallen. It had been because of him. He had been terrified that she was going to die.
Then he slowly remembered where he was. Who he was with. That the stranger had referred to him as Cordelia's boyfriend, and that she had voiced no objection. She seemed to be in a world of her own. Her head was resting on his chest, one hand at his waist, the other stroking his shirt as if making sure he was real. Or as if they were dancing to a slow song only she could hear. "Cordy?"
"Shh." She was... Not exactly in a trance, but she was clearly not paying attention to the rest of the customers in the restaurant. "Listen to the song."
** Now you know I need you, baby
** Oh, now I've got to make you see
** That there's no other for you
** You need to, you need to,
** You need to be with me
"Cordy?" Now his voice was soft. He didn't want to scare her. "Are you crying?"
She laughed nervously. "Yeah." Now she pulled away, wiping her eyes. He noticed she didn't gently dab. If she had been wearing any eye makeup, it would have been smeared all over her face.
*If* she had been wearing makeup. She wasn't. He realized it was the first time -- ever -- he had seen her without a carefully prepared mask, whether created from cosmetics or attitude. She was beautiful. Splotchy and puffy with sloppy hair, but his heart still leapt when he looked at her. It might as well have been the first time he had seen her, with or without the mask. He pulled her back into the circle of his arms, squeezing briefly before letting her go. "Come on. Let's go some place quiet and talk. Okay?" He wasn't sure he was ready to hear her refuse this request.
Fortunately, he didn't have to find out. She nodded. And then hiccuped. He laughed. She frowned. "I'm glad I amuse you."
Instantly, the laughter died. "I didn't mean --"
Her fingers rose to his lips, cutting off any further words. Finally, she was able to raise her eyes to his. "I know." Her fingers made a slow journey from his lips to his hair, working their way to the back of his head. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his eyes and his mouth.
"Cordy." Her name sounded like a prayer when he said it. It *felt* like one. "This is it. I could still walk out of here, and you would never have to talk to me again. But if we kiss, you'll never be able to get rid of me."
She pulled his head to hers, gently brushing his lips with hers. "I can't get you out of my mind as it is."
This time, he was the one to initiate contact. Softly, he murmured, "Good."
~~~~
Outside the diner, Angel handed the "clumsy" customer the money promised. "Thanks. They needed that."
The stranger shook his head, refusing the money. "No, it's my job." He gazed at the two brunettes, oblivious to anything but a reconciliation. "Hey, if you're ever in Chicago, give me a call. Trevor Hale. I'm in the book." The human form of Cupid took one last look at the couple. "One more down. I think I'm getting the hang of this."
~~~ the end ~~~