Chapter 9
Author: Ellen
Rating: NC-17 (overall story)
Spoilers: none
Summary: Angel, Cordelia and Doyle begin to realize some of the further implications of their bond.
Disclaimer: The characters of Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are the property of 20th Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and others. No ownership is claimed and no copyright infringement is intended.
Thoughts between Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are marked //like this.//
Doyle let out a soft, mortified moan as Harry stared at the three of them. Angel and Cordelia abruptly stepped apart, with Cordelia radiating waves of humiliation, leaving Doyle sitting alone.
"I was worried about Francis. I would ask what's going on here but at least some of it is obvious." Harry walked toward them as Angel and Cordelia hurriedly rearranged their clothing.
Harry sniffed and frowned appraisingly at Doyle. "Francis, you look like shit. You're soaked in sweat and I doubt that's all from secondhand jollies."
Doyle squirmed under his ex-wife's scrutiny. Although he was still dressed, with only his shirt collar open, his wet hair was clinging to his face as though he had been underwater and his clothing was dark with sweat stains.
"You look like you've been sick," Harry said. "In fact, you look like you've been falling-on-the-floor puking-your-guts-out sick. You won't talk to me on the phone. Angel hangs up on me. Now, if you've suddenly turned into a voyeur, well, your sex life is your own business, not mine and I don't have any right to demand an explanation of what turns you on these days. But you sure don't look to me like you've been having a good time and then there is the little matter of your mother gone missing, so, leaving the sex part aside, what else is going on here?"
Cordelia started to sputter indignantly but Angel waved her to silence with a sharp gesture and an unspoken thought.
"Harry, I'm sorry that I hung up on you."
"So, why did you? And, Francis, why aren't you speaking to me? And why do you look like somebody's been force-feeding you Poytaris demon pus?"
Doyle opened his mouth, then closed it again. Both Angel and Cordelia felt the wave of nausea that crashed through him as he tried to stand, then stumbled and would have fallen if Angel hadn't moved swiftly to his side.
Doyle sent Angel a desperate plea as he sagged, his knees buckling. Angel put a steadying arm around him.
"Harry, you'll have to excuse us for a moment."
Angel half-led, half-carried Doyle to the bathroom, leaving Cordelia and Harry to stare at each other.
Cordelia sighed. "Every time I think I've had my most embarrassing moment ever, a worse one happens. Gawd, Harry, am I still blushing?"
"No but I think I am."
They both laughed and the tension between them eased.
"Look, Cordelia," Harry said. "I know that you care about Francis. I think you know that he still matters to me, too. What you do with Angel is your own business and if Francis gets off on watching, well, I've seen weirder stuff than this, so I can deal. But I don't understand why Francis won't talk to me, or why he looks like death warmed over and I have to tell you, I'm getting really worried about him. I don't follow at all what's going on here. Can you let me in on it?"
Cordelia hesitated. "I think you should know but... Give me a minute."
Harry watched curiously as Cordelia's face went blank for a moment.
//Angel? Is Doyle — //
//As Harry put it, "puking his guts out," yes. I'll tell him that his blocking works just fine. That should cheer him up a little.//
//Thank him for me, I don't think I need to share that part. Look, speaking of sharing, I — //
//You can go ahead and tell Harry that he's trying to quit. I think she'll understand that.//
Then Doyle returned to the link, although the thought that he sent was weak. //I should be the one — //
//Yes, you should but you're in no condition for it. Let Cordelia do it,// Angel sent. //End of story, at least for now.// Firmly, he closed off the link between the two of them and Cordelia.
Cordelia's face lost its blank expression and she refocused on Harry. "I guess I can tell you. Let's sit down." Cordelia gestured toward the couch and they both sat.
"What this really is," Cordelia began. "Is a spectacular case of bad timing. You remember how I called you about the whole 'Promised One' and sacred marriage thing?"
"Of course I remember. It was only a couple of days ago."
"Well, Doyle totally freaked when he found out about it and went on a binge. Then Angel flipped out over the binge and decided he'd had enough, so he started his special vampire detox program."
"What?"
"Yeah, I don't think any of the rehabs will be picking up this one soon. It wasn't pretty. He didn't even consult Doyle, just..." She made a gesture like wringing out a washcloth. "He wrung him out dry. I could tell that it really hurt but it was for his own good."
"Angel is forcing Francis to detox?"
"Well, it started out that way. But Doyle was trying, really trying, and then you told us his mother's disappeared and it's been pretty rough ever since."
Harry looked astonished. "You mean he hasn't had a drink since he found out?"
"Since before he found out. But, it's gotten a lot harder now that he's worrying about her, too."
"He hasn't – my God. I thought for sure he'd have disappeared into the bottom of the bottle by now and that's why nobody would put him on the phone. I was afraid he might have taken off. He used to do that a lot."
"Actually he did but that was before, when he found out that I was checking up on the sacred marriage thing."
"He vanished for awhile?"
"Hours. That's when Angel went ballistic on us and – " She started making the twisting gesture with her hands again.
"Wrung him dry, yes, I get the idea." Harry shivered in sympathy. "Poor Francis, everything at once. So, I don't mean to be rude here and I know different things turn different people on but if he was feeling so horrible, then how could the two of you....?"
Cordelia blushed again. "We started something to make him feel better. Angel showed me a healing thing he knows and I was trying it on Doyle and Angel was helping. I think it was working pretty well, too but then Angel and I both got really turned on by it and...."
"Sexual healing?" Harry looked amused but skeptical.
"Well, it didn't start that way but it kind of, you know, ended up like that."
Harry shook her head, smiling. "Well, if it was making him feel better, I can't argue with it, no matter how odd it may seem. Sorry that I interrupted but..."
"You were worried. We're all members of the Worry About Doyle club here, so I get it. Anyway, we do need to deal with the thing with his mother but we just have to get him strong enough to handle it. Have you found out anything?"
"Nothing definite. I was telling Angel what I did find out when he hung up on me. I think he's right, though – the only thing that was unusual about Dolores was that she had a baby by a demon. Other than that, she had a very quiet life. So, I do tend to think she might have been contacted by a member of his father's clan. It's the only reason I can think of why she would just take off all of a sudden without letting anyone know."
"If she went voluntarily, you mean."
"Yes. I'm trying to hope for the best. There was no sign of a struggle, no body has turned up, no ransom note, and it's not likely that anybody would have kidnapped her for money, anyway. She wasn't poor in the going-hungry sense but she certainly wasn't rich either. Isn't," Harry corrected herself.
"So, this sacred marriage thing – which is how I started all this trouble in the first place. How real is it?"
"Well," and Harry looked troubled. "I can guess this much. If his father's clan believes that Francis actually died and was brought back to life..."
"They would be likely to believe that he really is the Promised One." The voice was Angel's and Cordelia and Harry both turned. Angel was supporting an extremely pale and wobbly Doyle.
"That's my guess," Harry agreed. "Francis, I – "
Doyle shook his head a little, leaning on Angel. "I don't want to talk about it, Harry," he said softly, his voice still weak.
"We have to talk about it. I'm sorry that the timing was so messed-up but we can't ignore it, Francis." She walked toward him and he tried to straighten his body as she approached, clinging to what little pride he had left.
"You don't have to put on a show for me, Francis, remember? I've seen you throwing up before. It's just that this is the first time that it's been because you're trying to quit and I respect that. A lot."
Doyle was silent, trying to stand straight and not to slump against Angel. Harry reached out and stroked a damp curl of hair away from his face. He flinched at the touch but did not turn his face away.
"You never had to die to be my hero, Francis and I never stopped caring about you, so don't treat me like a stranger. Just because I'm not your wife any more, that doesn't mean I can't be your friend. Let me? Please?"
He stared at her in silence for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "All right," he whispered. "Thanks."
Angel said, "Let's all sit down."
Once Doyle was settled on the couch between Angel and Cordelia, with Harry in a chair opposite, it was Cordelia who spoke first. "So, who knows that Doyle is still alive? Just in case that happens to be the thing that got somebody over there going."
"Well," Harry said. "His family had been told that he died and then they were told it was all a mistake, that he never really died at all but someone might have figured it out."
"I'm not the Promised One," Doyle muttered queasily. "And if they were tryin' to get t'me by nabbin' her, wouldn't they have sent me a note or something?"
"Not for money." Angel looked from Harry to Doyle, understanding clear on his face. "If it was your father's clan that contacted your mother, it wouldn't be a ransom they're after."
"What d'you think they'd want from me, then?"
"Not from you," Harry said quietly. "They'd want you."
Cordelia asked, "Alive?"
"Alive, definitely," Harry agreed. "He'd be useless to them dead. They'd want him very much alive, preferably resurrected and with magical powers."
"I don't... I..."
"Well, actually," Harry pointed out. "You were reported dead and now you're alive again. Not that I'm complaining or anything but what would you call that, if not magic?"
There was silence for a moment, as Cordelia sent quietly: //Mostly, I'd call it love.//
Doyle closed his eyes as though the word hurt and she put one arm lightly around him. //And, by the way, you so need a shower.//
Angel said, "I think the main questions now are, who might have heard that Doyle actually died and came back and what exactly would they be expecting of him?"
Doyle spoke bitterly, his eyes still closed. "Save the world? Save the demons? Hell, I'm such a great and wonderful savior that I can't even get through a day without a drink."
"You're doing it. You're getting through it." Angel's voice was firm, allowing no contradiction.
"If that's the reason why Dolores disappeared, then someone should be trying to contact you, Francis. You don't rent that apartment any more, right?"
"Broke the lease when I died."
"So, it's possible that someone might be trying to find you and not know that you're here."
Cordelia exclaimed, "My place! I added him on the lease there but we're hardly ever there any more."
"Maybe we should spend some time there, then," Angel said thoughtfully. "But not yet."
"Not yet," Doyle echoed. "No offense to you, 'Delia, or even to Dennis but if somebody from the demon side o' the family might be lookin' for me there, then maybe not ever." He swallowed. "Then again, when it comes to mothers, Dennis ain't exactly the guy who should be takin' a message."
Harry looked at Doyle, then at Cordelia, with a puzzled expression.
"Who's Dennis?" Harry asked.
