Lilah/Cordelia: Glitch in the Matrix
Jan. 17th, 2004 01:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleCatching up on my ficathon assignments. Bit late to start the Gilesficathon tonight, but two in one night's not bad going.
Title: Glitch in the Matrix
Author: Doyle
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Cordelia/Lilah
Rating: soft R
Distribution: Anywhere, just let me know.
Summary: Lilah knows that nobody around them is wondering why Cordelia Chase brings her publicist to party with the young and the brainless, because another part of Lilah's job is to go unnoticed, and she is very good at what she does. AU, only not.
Notes: For the Picture1000 challenge to write a fic of exactly 1000 words. Er... the email with my picture was accidentally wiped, but it was a shiny iron. I tried searching on google images, but couldn't find it and... anyway. Imagine a really shiny iron. The connection to the fic is quite abstract, because the shiny iron looked too shiny and unreal, and that's what the fic's about. Sort of. But enough of this small talk.
Cordelia's bored with the White Lotus, so Lilah calls some people and finds them an after-hours joint that's popular with A-Listers looking for late night entertainment. The guy at the door looks less than overawed to be in the presence of Hollywood's hottest young thing (this week), but he lets them in, not looking at Lilah. She's invisible in this world. That's how she likes it.
The club's not terrible, as far as these places go. Faux-edgy speakeasies trying to be hip and dangerous, but the music's the same crap they serve up everywhere and anyone openly using drugs gets politely ejected. Lilah follows her boss-slash-ward to a table at the back, ignoring the bar's other patrons. She's so far beyond being impressed with celebrity that she can't see a hint of impressed on a clear day.
"It's all so fake," Cordelia bitches, then does a one-eighty to smiling screen queen as she catches someone's eye. "Orli, sweetie, you were amazing in Troy, catch up with you next week, okay? Okay." Turns back to Lilah with a toss of the hair she's finally dyed back to brown, thank God. "I mean, God, can you believe these people?"
Making Ms. Chase happy's a big part of Lilah's job description, and four martinis and a line of coke later her job is well done. Cordelia giggles against her shoulder, hanging onto Lilah's hand like they're bestest girlfriends. She's creasing her dress; doesn't matter. It's an old one, last week's fashion, probably only worth a few thousand dollars anyway.
Lilah knows that nobody around them is wondering why Cordelia Chase brings her publicist to party with the young and the brainless, because another part of Lilah's job is to go unnoticed, and she is very good at what she does.
They get back to Cordelia's penthouse as the sun's rising, and the last week dress gets ripped as they stumble out of their clothes and into the bedroom. Cordelia's a pushy little bitch this morning; gets like that when she's high. Shame Lilah can't keep her in the clouds round the clock.
Cordelia sits back, straddling her, drawing out the tease as long as she can, and there's not a straight man in the movie-going world wouldn't swallow ground glass to be where Lilah is right this second. The early morning light's streaming through the huge bay windows, and her dark (thank God) hair is messy on her shoulders, and the look on her face at this moment is not why the tabloids call her Queen C, but it should be.
Sometimes Lilah finds it hard to remember exactly who is whose bitch, here.
Except this nice start to the working day is spoiled when Cordelia pulls away from her, so fast and terrified she tumbles off the bed. "What's that?" she shrieks, then something changes in her eyes, like a camera flash going off. "What the hell is this?"
Lilah knows what this is. She doesn't have to turn her head and see the blood pooling on the sheets to realise the hole is back in her neck.
"Fuck," she sighs. "Not again."
**
She stands over the hospital bed as the nurses bustle past. One walks straight through her, and for a moment her vision swims with bone and blood and brain tissue.
Cordelia's eyelids flicker. She moans in her sleep. The first few times, specialists were called in. Angel spent days hovering around the room, watching her with those doleful puppy eyes.
They've learned that these aren't signs of an awakening. She gets restless, for a little while, tosses and turns as though she's trying to wake up, but she doesn't.
Of course she doesn't. If the Senior Partners pay their psychics good money to keep a Seer asleep, they expect a return on their investment.
Cordelia lets out a sigh, once, and settles down against the starched pillows, her breathing back to normal.
Time to get back to work. Lilah vanishes. The nurses don't notice.
**
She smiles thinly as the artificial memories slide into her brain, going down as easy as ice-cream. As easy as Cordelia in the back seat of a Porsche, on the night of a junior Prom that never happened.
High school again? Clichéd, but it kept her happy and asleep for four months the last time, so who's she to argue?
The changes this time around are fun to find, like a 3D Where's Waldo with guest stars such as: Angel! Now captain of the football team! Fred! Class science geek, but gaining some cred by dating quarterback Charles Gunn! Buffy Summers, one-time Slayer, now recast as vapid valley-girl and Cordelia's arch-rival for the Sunnydale High crown. And never mind if half these people look a decade too old for high school, they're altered as easily as Lilah herself.
She sees her reflection a lot, because everything is a little too shiny here; a little too bright. She sees the gorgeous eighteen-year-old Cordette she never was in lockers, in windows, in a fucking iron at Cordelia's mansion the time they explore the kitchens and the laundry room. This world has a shine of unreality to it, but Cordelia never notices. She's happy.
Lilah's job is to keep her that way.
Whatever the Chase parents were like in the real world (and that's a concept that slips further away from Lilah every day), here they're the best mommy and daddy a princess could ask for. Generous with allowances and credit cards, lax about curfews, and away on business for months at a stretch, letting Cordy have lots of NC-17 sleepovers with her best friend.
Best friends since kindergarten, united because they're pretty and popular and better than the rest. Best friends forever.
Cordelia-not-Cordelia plunged a knife into Lilah's neck. Who's the stupid bitch now?
And Cordelia will be Homecoming Queen.
And if this world doesn't work out, that's okay. They'll keep making more, because not all fairytales get to end with the princess waking up.
END
Title: Glitch in the Matrix
Author: Doyle
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Cordelia/Lilah
Rating: soft R
Distribution: Anywhere, just let me know.
Summary: Lilah knows that nobody around them is wondering why Cordelia Chase brings her publicist to party with the young and the brainless, because another part of Lilah's job is to go unnoticed, and she is very good at what she does. AU, only not.
Notes: For the Picture1000 challenge to write a fic of exactly 1000 words. Er... the email with my picture was accidentally wiped, but it was a shiny iron. I tried searching on google images, but couldn't find it and... anyway. Imagine a really shiny iron. The connection to the fic is quite abstract, because the shiny iron looked too shiny and unreal, and that's what the fic's about. Sort of. But enough of this small talk.
Cordelia's bored with the White Lotus, so Lilah calls some people and finds them an after-hours joint that's popular with A-Listers looking for late night entertainment. The guy at the door looks less than overawed to be in the presence of Hollywood's hottest young thing (this week), but he lets them in, not looking at Lilah. She's invisible in this world. That's how she likes it.
The club's not terrible, as far as these places go. Faux-edgy speakeasies trying to be hip and dangerous, but the music's the same crap they serve up everywhere and anyone openly using drugs gets politely ejected. Lilah follows her boss-slash-ward to a table at the back, ignoring the bar's other patrons. She's so far beyond being impressed with celebrity that she can't see a hint of impressed on a clear day.
"It's all so fake," Cordelia bitches, then does a one-eighty to smiling screen queen as she catches someone's eye. "Orli, sweetie, you were amazing in Troy, catch up with you next week, okay? Okay." Turns back to Lilah with a toss of the hair she's finally dyed back to brown, thank God. "I mean, God, can you believe these people?"
Making Ms. Chase happy's a big part of Lilah's job description, and four martinis and a line of coke later her job is well done. Cordelia giggles against her shoulder, hanging onto Lilah's hand like they're bestest girlfriends. She's creasing her dress; doesn't matter. It's an old one, last week's fashion, probably only worth a few thousand dollars anyway.
Lilah knows that nobody around them is wondering why Cordelia Chase brings her publicist to party with the young and the brainless, because another part of Lilah's job is to go unnoticed, and she is very good at what she does.
They get back to Cordelia's penthouse as the sun's rising, and the last week dress gets ripped as they stumble out of their clothes and into the bedroom. Cordelia's a pushy little bitch this morning; gets like that when she's high. Shame Lilah can't keep her in the clouds round the clock.
Cordelia sits back, straddling her, drawing out the tease as long as she can, and there's not a straight man in the movie-going world wouldn't swallow ground glass to be where Lilah is right this second. The early morning light's streaming through the huge bay windows, and her dark (thank God) hair is messy on her shoulders, and the look on her face at this moment is not why the tabloids call her Queen C, but it should be.
Sometimes Lilah finds it hard to remember exactly who is whose bitch, here.
Except this nice start to the working day is spoiled when Cordelia pulls away from her, so fast and terrified she tumbles off the bed. "What's that?" she shrieks, then something changes in her eyes, like a camera flash going off. "What the hell is this?"
Lilah knows what this is. She doesn't have to turn her head and see the blood pooling on the sheets to realise the hole is back in her neck.
"Fuck," she sighs. "Not again."
**
She stands over the hospital bed as the nurses bustle past. One walks straight through her, and for a moment her vision swims with bone and blood and brain tissue.
Cordelia's eyelids flicker. She moans in her sleep. The first few times, specialists were called in. Angel spent days hovering around the room, watching her with those doleful puppy eyes.
They've learned that these aren't signs of an awakening. She gets restless, for a little while, tosses and turns as though she's trying to wake up, but she doesn't.
Of course she doesn't. If the Senior Partners pay their psychics good money to keep a Seer asleep, they expect a return on their investment.
Cordelia lets out a sigh, once, and settles down against the starched pillows, her breathing back to normal.
Time to get back to work. Lilah vanishes. The nurses don't notice.
**
She smiles thinly as the artificial memories slide into her brain, going down as easy as ice-cream. As easy as Cordelia in the back seat of a Porsche, on the night of a junior Prom that never happened.
High school again? Clichéd, but it kept her happy and asleep for four months the last time, so who's she to argue?
The changes this time around are fun to find, like a 3D Where's Waldo with guest stars such as: Angel! Now captain of the football team! Fred! Class science geek, but gaining some cred by dating quarterback Charles Gunn! Buffy Summers, one-time Slayer, now recast as vapid valley-girl and Cordelia's arch-rival for the Sunnydale High crown. And never mind if half these people look a decade too old for high school, they're altered as easily as Lilah herself.
She sees her reflection a lot, because everything is a little too shiny here; a little too bright. She sees the gorgeous eighteen-year-old Cordette she never was in lockers, in windows, in a fucking iron at Cordelia's mansion the time they explore the kitchens and the laundry room. This world has a shine of unreality to it, but Cordelia never notices. She's happy.
Lilah's job is to keep her that way.
Whatever the Chase parents were like in the real world (and that's a concept that slips further away from Lilah every day), here they're the best mommy and daddy a princess could ask for. Generous with allowances and credit cards, lax about curfews, and away on business for months at a stretch, letting Cordy have lots of NC-17 sleepovers with her best friend.
Best friends since kindergarten, united because they're pretty and popular and better than the rest. Best friends forever.
Cordelia-not-Cordelia plunged a knife into Lilah's neck. Who's the stupid bitch now?
And Cordelia will be Homecoming Queen.
And if this world doesn't work out, that's okay. They'll keep making more, because not all fairytales get to end with the princess waking up.
END
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no subject
on 2004-01-16 07:09 pm (UTC)Also, fantastic last sentence. Just the right tone of malice/fairy tale.
no subject
on 2004-01-16 07:11 pm (UTC)