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alixtiiTitle: Bathing in Jordan
Fandom Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Cordelia Chase/Kate Lockley
Timeline/Spoilers: "Not Fade Away"
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sometimes baptism isn't a one-time deal.
Bathing in Jordan
When she wakes up the bed is empty; indeed, there is no reason other than her own confused memories to believe anyone else had ever been there. Perhaps nobody ever had, maybe it was all some dream. Didn't matter, really, did it? Either way, it all meant the same thing.
She gets out of bed, gets dressed, and calls a cab. Before it arrives, she opens up her bottom drawer, pushes away the socks, and pulls out several instruments she hasn't used in years: handcuffs, a heavy-duty flashlight, a gun.
. . .
She had stood in the center of the mall, in front of the fountain, a look of confusion on her face, as if she wasn't quite sure what she was doing there. Kate wasn't quite sure what Cordelia was doing there, either, but she figured if anyone did know, it should be Cordelia herself. "What are you doing here?" she asked, and she could hear the accusation slip into her voice.
She had left that life.
Cordelia looked at her, blinked. "Do I know you?" she asked, the look on her face being one of genuine confusion. "No, wait--blonde, not Buffy, not Darla, not the new one. You're the other one, the police officer. Kat?"
"Kate."
"Right." Cordelia nodded, took a breath. "Fourth time I've done this, and everytime something goes wrong. Every single time. I mean, compared to being hijacked by a rogue Power, a little memory mismanagement is a walk in the park, but still, the universe really is out to get me, isn't it?"
Kate just looked at the other woman, who seemed to have some clue what she was talking about even if Kate didn't. She coughed, and Cordelia noticed her for the second time. "Oh, right," she said. "Detective Lockley." She paused, looked at Kate more closely. "Or is that Sandwich Artist Lockley?" she asked, reading her shirt. "Talk about professional dress--way to dress feminine."
Kate looked down at her green polo shirt and black slacks. "It pays the bills." Some of them, at least. It's a job where she can escape. It's not like she's trying to attract a man. Or things which aren't men.
Cordelia nodded, then looked around. "When does this place close?" she asks.
"Ten," Kate answered, because that's the right answer, even if she had no idea why Cordelia wanted to know--or for that matter, what was going on at all.
"Meet me here at ten-thirty," Cordelia said, gave Kate a wink, and walked away before Kate could follow, within moments lost in the sea of people making their way through the mall.
. . .
Getting into the mall past closing wasn't really all that difficult when she had to draw upon both her experience in law enforcement and her knowledge of the mall itself gained from working too much overtime. She made her way to the fountain without meeting any security guards and found that, sure enough, Cordelia was waiting for her. She was standing in the fountain itself, her stylish sandals left on the fake marble floor. With her dress. And--everything else.
"Come on in," the naked woman said to her, "the water's fine."
Kate looked at Cordelia, at her naked body, then away, then looked back again. This was why she left L.A., why she hated spending time with Angel (even as she loved spending time with Angel); she hates being overwhelmed, the feeling that she's in over her head. She wanted to leave, to run, to return to a life of lower-class mundanity, but she knew Cordelia came to find her for a reason, whatever it might be. That there were things going on which she didn't understand, but in which she had to play her part, or else it'd all just follow her wherever she went.
She glanced around for the security guard. There's no sign of him yet, but he'd be going to show up eventually. "What do you want, Cordelia?"
"I want you to take off all your clothes and get in the fountain," Cordelia said impatiently. "I thought that was actually pretty clear."
Not having any option, and after casting one last glance for that security guard, Kate pulled her shirt off over her head. "But why?" she asked as she pulled off her pants.
"I want you to take a bath."
. . .
Kate slips into the train station, purchases a ticket for the first train going west. Eventually, she makes it to Los Angeles.
. . .
"It's a motif," Cordelia explained. "Last time it was a shower, remember? Angel came in and held you under the shower to sober you up?"
"He told you about that?"
Cordelia laughed. "Of course not. But who do you think let him in?"
. . .
Los Angeles is just the way she left it, no sign of a battle and certainly no sign of a war, save for the conspicuous absence of both Angel Investigations and Wolfram & Hart. She walks around the block where Wolfram & Hart used to be--it's a construction site promising to be a set of high-rise condos, now--three times before pulling out her cell phone. She types in the country code for Italy, then the number Cordelia gave her: the number of someone who can help her to help, and to find out what happened, someone with the resources to provide Kate with the tools she will need.
"Hello?" she says. "I'd like to speak to Dawn Summers, please."
Fandom Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Cordelia Chase/Kate Lockley
Timeline/Spoilers: "Not Fade Away"
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sometimes baptism isn't a one-time deal.
Bathing in Jordan
When she wakes up the bed is empty; indeed, there is no reason other than her own confused memories to believe anyone else had ever been there. Perhaps nobody ever had, maybe it was all some dream. Didn't matter, really, did it? Either way, it all meant the same thing.
She gets out of bed, gets dressed, and calls a cab. Before it arrives, she opens up her bottom drawer, pushes away the socks, and pulls out several instruments she hasn't used in years: handcuffs, a heavy-duty flashlight, a gun.
. . .
She had stood in the center of the mall, in front of the fountain, a look of confusion on her face, as if she wasn't quite sure what she was doing there. Kate wasn't quite sure what Cordelia was doing there, either, but she figured if anyone did know, it should be Cordelia herself. "What are you doing here?" she asked, and she could hear the accusation slip into her voice.
She had left that life.
Cordelia looked at her, blinked. "Do I know you?" she asked, the look on her face being one of genuine confusion. "No, wait--blonde, not Buffy, not Darla, not the new one. You're the other one, the police officer. Kat?"
"Kate."
"Right." Cordelia nodded, took a breath. "Fourth time I've done this, and everytime something goes wrong. Every single time. I mean, compared to being hijacked by a rogue Power, a little memory mismanagement is a walk in the park, but still, the universe really is out to get me, isn't it?"
Kate just looked at the other woman, who seemed to have some clue what she was talking about even if Kate didn't. She coughed, and Cordelia noticed her for the second time. "Oh, right," she said. "Detective Lockley." She paused, looked at Kate more closely. "Or is that Sandwich Artist Lockley?" she asked, reading her shirt. "Talk about professional dress--way to dress feminine."
Kate looked down at her green polo shirt and black slacks. "It pays the bills." Some of them, at least. It's a job where she can escape. It's not like she's trying to attract a man. Or things which aren't men.
Cordelia nodded, then looked around. "When does this place close?" she asks.
"Ten," Kate answered, because that's the right answer, even if she had no idea why Cordelia wanted to know--or for that matter, what was going on at all.
"Meet me here at ten-thirty," Cordelia said, gave Kate a wink, and walked away before Kate could follow, within moments lost in the sea of people making their way through the mall.
. . .
Getting into the mall past closing wasn't really all that difficult when she had to draw upon both her experience in law enforcement and her knowledge of the mall itself gained from working too much overtime. She made her way to the fountain without meeting any security guards and found that, sure enough, Cordelia was waiting for her. She was standing in the fountain itself, her stylish sandals left on the fake marble floor. With her dress. And--everything else.
"Come on in," the naked woman said to her, "the water's fine."
Kate looked at Cordelia, at her naked body, then away, then looked back again. This was why she left L.A., why she hated spending time with Angel (even as she loved spending time with Angel); she hates being overwhelmed, the feeling that she's in over her head. She wanted to leave, to run, to return to a life of lower-class mundanity, but she knew Cordelia came to find her for a reason, whatever it might be. That there were things going on which she didn't understand, but in which she had to play her part, or else it'd all just follow her wherever she went.
She glanced around for the security guard. There's no sign of him yet, but he'd be going to show up eventually. "What do you want, Cordelia?"
"I want you to take off all your clothes and get in the fountain," Cordelia said impatiently. "I thought that was actually pretty clear."
Not having any option, and after casting one last glance for that security guard, Kate pulled her shirt off over her head. "But why?" she asked as she pulled off her pants.
"I want you to take a bath."
. . .
Kate slips into the train station, purchases a ticket for the first train going west. Eventually, she makes it to Los Angeles.
. . .
"It's a motif," Cordelia explained. "Last time it was a shower, remember? Angel came in and held you under the shower to sober you up?"
"He told you about that?"
Cordelia laughed. "Of course not. But who do you think let him in?"
. . .
Los Angeles is just the way she left it, no sign of a battle and certainly no sign of a war, save for the conspicuous absence of both Angel Investigations and Wolfram & Hart. She walks around the block where Wolfram & Hart used to be--it's a construction site promising to be a set of high-rise condos, now--three times before pulling out her cell phone. She types in the country code for Italy, then the number Cordelia gave her: the number of someone who can help her to help, and to find out what happened, someone with the resources to provide Kate with the tools she will need.
"Hello?" she says. "I'd like to speak to Dawn Summers, please."