Spoilers: You're Welcome
Summary: Cordy feels guilty.
Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they belong to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Otherwise, they're mine.
Author's Note: In my version, Cordy wakes up from her coma for real.
Cordelia sat down on the brown sofa in Angel's living room with a sad sigh. Angel sank down into the cushions beside her.
"Yeah"? she asked quietly, looking down at her feet.
"It's nothing. It's just--"
"What?" he asked, turning her face so her eyes met his.
"Everything that happened last year. Sleeping with Connor--I was practically his mother when he was a baby! Killing Lilah--"
"Cordy, that wasn't you," he told her softly.
"But it was my body and that thing made you guys believe it was me. For awhile, at least. The things she said to you. She hurt you. I know she did," Cordy told him, gently holding his cheek in the palm of her hand. "I'm so sorry," she said as tears slipped silently down her pretty face.
"She did," he acknowledged.
His acknowlegement broke her heart. Her silent tears turned into sobs.
"Hey, come here," he said softly, opening his arms. She fell into them, clinging to him like he was her lifeline. He held her as close to his body as he could get her. His heart broke for her as she sobbed.
"I'm sorry," she told him, lifting her head from his shoulder.
"For being so weak."
"Cordy, you are the strongest person I know," he told her.
She shook her head. "I'm an emotional wreck," she said. "I don't know where I fit in anymore. I know I helped with this case, but where do I fit in?" she asked, her eyes begging for the answers she needed.
"With me," he told her simply. "I need you, Cordy. Professionally and personally."
She stood and walked to the window, looking out across the city she loved. "But you look like you're doing fine without me," she told him.
He followed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "I'm not," he told her. "I've been so lost without you. You've been my anchor for so long I didn't know how to live without you by my side," he told her quietly.
She turned in his arms to look into his eyes, which were filled with the pain of trying to live without her. "What happened?" she asked, while wrapping her own arms around him.
He sighed. "I just went through the motions of living. I came into the office, met with clients, even hung out with the gang," he told her quietly.
"And when you were alone?"
"That's when I lost it. Mostly I'd sit and stare at photos of you, of us," he told her. "And when I just had to do something, I'd draw. Pictures of you. Pictures of us. Pictures of us with Connor when he was a baby."
"You came to see me, didn't you? When I was in the coma, I mean?"
He nodded. "Every night. I went every night praying that it would be the night you came back to me. I knew you probably couldn't hear me, but I wanted--needed to talk to you, to tell you how much I needed you," he told her softly.
"Angel, I did hear you. Every night I listened as you told me about your day. I listened as you told me how much you needed me, how much you loved me."
He looked at her in surprise. "But how?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's the part demon thing," she said. "When I woke up the nurses told me that when you were around I rested more comfortably, that I seemed to just do better, in general, when you were by my side."
A soft little smile tugged at his lips. "I did that?"
"I'm not surprised," she admitted. "I've always been my happiest when you were around."
"I love you, Cordy," he whispered.
"I love you, too, Angel," she told him before she kissed him tenderly.
She lay her head against his chest, right above where his unbeating heart lay and turned to watch the lights of the city with the man that she loved.