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Remembering

The three of them stood in the center of the burned out room. Angel and Cordelia watched as Doyle wandered around what once had been the main office of Angel Investigations. He walked over to his desk, now a charred, almost unrecognizable lump of wood. He ran a hand along the top of it; his fingers turned black. He closed his eyes, heaved a deep sigh.     

"You okay, Doyle?" Angel asked in a soft voice.    

Doyle turned to look at his two best friends. "Yeah, man. It's just. . ." He shook his head. "When all this was happening, as I watched it happen. . .this place burning, the Oracles being killed- I didn't actually see that happen- Wolfram and Hart bringing Darla back and trying to destroy you, Angel, Cordelia being overwhelmed and put through hell with the visions, it felt like. . .like everything that connected you guys to me was being. . .destroyed. Like when all was said and done, there'd be nothing left of me, of us. Everything would be. . .gone."  His voice broke on the word 'gone'; he turned away as he felt tears sting his eyes.     

Angel and Cordelia exchanged concerned glances. They both quickly crossed the room to stand beside the half-demon.  Angel laid a gentle hand on Doyle's shoulder.      

"Not everything, Doyle," the vampire told him.     

"Yeah," Cordelia put in, giving the new Oracle a tender hug. "We're still here, Doyle. You never lost us. We love you."    

Doyle nodded. "I know, Princess, I know. But, you know, so much time has past with. . .so much change. I gotta wonder. . .will I still fit in?"  

"Of course you will, Doyle!" Cordelia cried. "I can't believe you'd say that! I mean, hello, don't you get it? You're. . ." She fumbled for the right words, couldn't find them, looked to Angel for support.    

Angel smiled. "I think what she's trying to say, Doyle, is that it's not a matter of you fitting back in, it's that things never really fit without you. I mean, sure, we've done it, we went on, but. . .it was never the same without you. There was always something missing.  Always."   

Cordelia gave a contented sigh, hugged Doyle again, closed her eyes as she breathed in the scent of him. "Oh yeah, that's it. That's exactly what I wanted to say."     

Doyle hugged her back, looked at Angel over the top of her head. "Thanks, Princess. Thanks, Angel. Just. . .don't hold it against me if I keep needing to hear you say it."     

"Mmmmm," Cordelia murmured, still holding onto him. "That's fine with me. And I'll bet I can come up with some great nonverbal ways to tell you anything you need to hear."    

The thought almost overwhelmed him. He exchanged raised eyebrow looks with Angel as he said, "I'll look forward to that, Cordelia."     

"Me too," she said dreamily.    

Angel had to clear his throat before he could speak. He could tell that Cordelia was throwing Doyle a little; as much as he welcomed it, he was having trouble adjusting to what, for him, were her newfound feelings for him. He was having trouble getting used to a lot of things, not only the changes that had come about during his absence, but the changes within him as well; his new status as Oracle to the Powers That Be.      

"It's all just going to take some time, Doyle," Angel told him. "It's a big adjustment for you, and it's going to take some time. Just remember that, and. . .don't be too hard on yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Doyle nodded at the truth of Angel's statement. There was no doubt it would all take time.      

"And if it's Wesley and Gunn you're worried about," Cordelia said, raising her head to look at her Doyle, "get over it. They will."     

Doyle and Angel again exchanged glances. Angel shrugged slightly. "That's probably oversimplifying it a little, but she's right. They will."

Doyle merely nodded. Wesley was on his way as they spoke; he could feel him getting closer. The thought frightened him. He mentally shook the feeling off, smiled a little as he looked around the flame and smoke scarred room. "We had some good times here though, didn't we?"   

"You know we did," Angel told him.      

"Yeah," Cordelia agreed. "We did."    

Doyle's eyes twinkled at her. "Like I seem to remember this girl I know tearing up Angel's linoleum. Why was that again?"    

Cordelia gave his arm a gentle punch. "I'm not exactly that girl anymore, but that would be what you remember. What about all that time we spent doing 'research'? How many times did I beat you at poker?"     

"You guys played poker?" Angel raised his eyebrows at them. "I was out risking life and limb, and you two were playing poker?"     

"Sometimes," Doyle admitted. "She got pretty good at it too. I never could get her to play strip poker with me though."     

"Bet you could now," Cordelia said in a seductive voice; she ran a hand down along his cheek, then walked away from the two men as something across the room caught her eye. Doyle stared after her looking a little shell-shocked.     

"You okay?" Angel asked softly. "She's overwhelming you, isn't she?"     

"A little, yeah." Doyle nodded. "Now, don't get me wrong, man. It's not that I don't like it. I do. And I love her, Angel; that hasn't changed.  It's just. . .when did she figure out she was so crazy about me? I mean, we were in pretty good standing when I. . .died, what with her being so accepting of my being half-demon and all that.  I knew she'd probably be happy to see me, but. . .I don't know that I expected. . .this."     

"I don't know that I know when she figured it out," Angel said, and smiled. "I don't know that she knows. But I have a feeling it was there all the time."     

"Just something else I guess I'll just have to get used to," Doyle said with an exaggerated shudder.  He grinned at the vampire. "Poor, poor pitiful me, eh?"     

Angel patted him on the shoulder. "I know I feel sorry for you."     

Doyle laughed, watched as Cordelia reached the far wall, knelt down on the dirty, sooty floor and began digging through the ashes. "What are you looking for, Cordy?"     

"I saw something shiny over here," Cordelia told them, continuing to dig. Angel and Doyle joined her, watched as her hands suddenly hit something solid. "Here it is." She carefully picked up the rectangular object and began to gently brush away the dirt and ash covering it. As soon as she could see it clearly, she gave a gasp. "Oh my God. How did this survive?"    

"What is it, Cordelia?" Angel asked.    

Cordelia slowly turned over the object so the vampire and the half-demon could see it. It was a picture Angel had taken of Cordelia and Doyle not long after they had opened for business. Doyle reached out, and Cordelia handed him the silver-framed photograph. He remembered the moment it was taken as if it were yesterday...     

She'd walked into Angel's office where he and Doyle had been talking, the instamatic camera in her hands.   

"Do vampires photograph?" she'd asked them, searching the room for the appropriate shooting angle. "I mean, I know they don't have a reflection, but can you take a picture of them?" She'd shook her head. "It's too dark in here. Come out in the other room."     

Angel and Doyle had followed her back into the outer office.      

"What's with the camera, Cordy?" Doyle had asked.      

"We need an advertisement picture for this place. So everyone can see our honest faces. And hopefully pay us.  But I can't remember, do vampires photograph?" She had still been looking for the perfect spot.
     

Angel had appeared somewhat insulted. "I think we do," he'd said, looking at Doyle, who'd nodded and shrugged.      

"All right. Let's see if this camera works first." Cordelia had thrust the camera into Angel's hands, then walked to Doyle's desk and sat down on it. She'd patted the space beside her. "Come sit down little Irish vision man and let Angel take our picture. Do you know what hole to look through, Angel?"    

"I think I can handle it, Cordelia," Angel had told her as Doyle had walked over to the desk and sat down beside her.      

She'd put her hand on his shoulder. "Now smile nice," she'd told him, turning toward Angel and flashing one of her brilliant smiles. "Go ahead, Angel."    

The flash had gone off, the picture had slid neatly out of the camera. Cordelia had pronounced herself satisfied. "Okay, Angel, your turn," she'd said as she'd placed the picture in a drawer of the desk...

"When did you frame this?" Doyle wanted to know, holding the picture up and shaking more of the dust off.   

"I found it when I was going through your desk about a week after. . .well, you know," Cordelia clearly remembered that moment. She'd opened the drawer, seen Doyle's face smiling up at her and had immediately burst into tears: deep, desperate, heartwrenching sobs that had lasted for a very long time. Nothing that Angel had said or done had helped or made a difference. She had finally stopped crying on her own, but had never completely recovered from the shock of finding that picture. "It was the only picture I had of you except the video. I framed it that same day."

"It's a miracle it survived the blast," Angel said, studying the picture over Doyle's shoulder.     

"Yeah." Doyle nodded. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked at the picture. It clearly showed the office intact, thus the past intact; it had been a complicated time in his life, but far less complicated than the present and future he was facing now. Doyle heaved a deep sigh. The past was a memory only; there was no going back.      

Cordelia had been watching his face; his thoughts and feelings showed clearly on it. She stood up, dusted the ashes off of her hands, then went to stand before him. She put her hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes.  "I think I know how you feel, Doyle. You feel out of sync. You're remembering what was and you're wondering what might have been if what happened hadn't happened. But it did happen, Doyle. It all happened and you can't change that. But you're here, now, and we can do something about that. We can make new memories, better than the old ones. So much better, Doyle. I know it's hard for you, being here, seeing all the changes, seeing this office destroyed. But you'll like the new place once you get used to it. And you have to remember, Doyle, that yeah, there are good memories here for Angel and me, but there are bad ones too. And the worst memory of all, Doyle, is of losing you.  Coming back here that night without you, coming here every day without you. Yeah, I've missed this place, but I've got to admit, not being here has made losing you a little easier to bear. I know this is all really hard for you, but it'll be okay, Doyle. It really will."    

Doyle looked at her, admiration clear in his eyes. "You're right, Cordelia. About everything you just said and about something else too. You're not that same girl cutting up linoleum in Angel's kitchen. You've changed." He held up his hand before she could protest. "I mean that in a good way, Princess. You've grown up. You've handled the visions like a pro. You've learned from them. You've seen people in pain; you know what it means to suffer and you also know what it means to help. . .to really 'help the hopeless'." He glanced over at Angel, then back at Cordelia. "And you did a great job taking over for me with Angel. You know, being there for him, advising him. . .when he'll let you."     

Cordelia shook her head. "I don't know about that, Doyle. I've never understood him the way you do."     

"Well, he's still here isn't he? Still fighting the good fight, yeah?" He grinned at Angel, who smiled back and nodded. Doyle then turned back to Cordelia.  "He's survived all the obstacles that have been put it his way. If you think you haven't had something to do with that Cordelia, you're wrong."     

"He's right, Cordelia," Angel told her sincerely. "He is. There have been a lot of times when I wouldn't have made it though without you."    

"It may sound hokey, but I think as an Oracle I'm aloud to say it. I'm proud of you, Princess." He pulled her to him, hugged her gently as he whispered, "And I'm proud to know that you care for me the way you do."    

Cordelia hugged him back. "And I do, Doyle. So much." She closed her eyes and held him.      

Suddenly Doyle winced as if in pain. Cordelia pulled out of his embrace to look at him, concern in her eyes.       

Angel put a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Doyle?"    

Doyle shook his head. "Nothing, man. Nothing really, I guess. I'm just still not used to. . ." He shook his head again; it was just too hard to explain. "Wesley's here." Despite his discomfort at being able to read the ex-watcher, Doyle grinned a little. "He's parked across the street. . . four blocks down. He doesn't have any issues with this place, now does he, then?"     

"Well, it's his own fault," Cordelia snorted. "He's the one who called to find out where we were and insisted on meeting us here. He could've waited until we got to the hotel."     

"He's worried about you, Cordelia, and you especially, Angel."

"Well, after the way I left last night, I can't say I blame him," Angel said.  

"And you can't really blame him for the way he feels about this place either. I mean, he did almost die here," Doyle stated, nervousness welling up in him. "This probably isn't the best place in the world for me to meet him, but it's too late now. He's coming up the steps. Listen, I'm gonna make myself scarce and let you two explain things a little bit." He started out a side window that had been blown out.     

"Doyle, it'll be. . ." Angel began.    

"Yeah, I know, man. It'll be all right. And I won't go far, I promise. I'll be back in a few minutes." Wesley's hand was on the building's makeshift door. "Just do this for me, Angel, please."     

Angel nodded. He guessed he could understand Doyle's fears. "All right."     

"Thanks, man." Doyle was out the window in a flash.     

"That's so weird the way he can do that; the way he knows things," Cordelia marveled     

"Yeah, well, I think it's pretty weird for him too, Cordelia. It's one of those things he's going to have to adjust to," Angel said seriously.     

"Yeah, and here comes another one," Cordelia quipped, nodding at the plank of wood door as it slowly began to open.      

Wesley Wyndham-Price finished opening the door and cautiously stepped through the battered doorway into the burned out building. "Angel, Cordelia, I'm pleased to see that you're all right. This place certainly brings back a good deal of memories, doesn't it?"     

"Oh, my dear Wesley," Cordelia murmured, with a mock English accent. She then switched to the slang she knew Wesley secretly abhorred.  "You ain't seen nothing yet, my friend. You ain't seen nothing yet."