Silent Night (The She Stoops To Conquer Remix)
Cordelia had plans, both big and not so big. The big ones couldn't be altered. They were pretty much set in stone; metaphorically, of course.
From the literal standpoint, the big plans nested perfectly in the thunderdome where Cordelia's finely toned stomach used to be. Cordelia rested her hands above her naval and smiled out the window, admiring the view. Riots slowly died with the thinning population.
The details, those could be negotiated, and were everchanging in Cordelia's imagination. Daydreaming got her through the long days. Long, boring days of listening to Lilah play Kitchen Nazi and watching Faith put on a brave face for the inevitable. Well, at least for whatever was Faith's sad little interpretation of the inevitable. Everybody's coping skills wore thin on Cordelia's patience, once the amusement subsided.
As if on an annoying cue, the tail end of a fight reached Cordelia's heightened senses, along with the gentle scent of fresh cookies; both courtesy of Lilah. Even a would-be queen like Cordelia couldn't deny an appreciation for Lilah's trailer trash desserts and a growl trembled softly from her gut in agreement. Might have just been her stomach that time, but the hunger felt like something beyond a craving for baked goods.
It wasn't hard for Cordelia to detect Faith's presence in the doorway, and not just because of the plate of cookies Faith carried. Cordelia turned to her with a genuine smile of contentment. Faith got Cordelia through the long, less boring nights.
"For me?" asked Cordelia, eyeing the plate. Still smiling, hand on belly, Cordelia easily slipped into Faith's view of her, the happy housewife and chaste, pregnant bride. It was kind of fun.
"All for you. Christmas treat from Lilah." Faith placed the plate on Cordelia's lap and a kiss on her belly. "Lick up the crumbs if you're in the mood." Faith on her knees. How it should be.
"I'll keep that in mind." Cordelia finished a cookie in two bites, hunger still present as she gazed downward. Faith was very good at the false hoping. Years of practice, Cordelia figured. Actually, Cordelia knew. "How much longer do you think?"
"A few more days, give or take, and you'll be back in bikinis." It was a game of watching Faith's eyes darken beneath that fixed fake smile. She was so sure the baby would never be coming out, thanks to Willow. "Then it'll be beaches and cabana boys. Or, y'know, Paris. Someplace nice, with postcards." Her tone expertly hid the hint that there wouldn't be any Paris vacation, just like there wouldn't be anyone left to send postcards to. She wasn't half wrong.
Cordelia played along in spite of herself. "Just you, me and the baby makes three." Twisting the knife in Faith's resolve, Cordelia stroked the brunette head by her knee.
"You and me." Faith's lips looked so good trying to maintain their cheerful grin. "No doubt."
"Just us," said Cordelia wistfully. Almost too close to the truth. Almost.
"When the baby comes." Faith shivered. She had good instincts, too bad she didn't trust them.
Cordelia nodded, secret smile spreading on her lips, watchful eyes drawn back to the window. All distant fires, panic and a sunrise pulling up over the ruined remains of a city turned warzone.
Nothing could change the big plans. And nothing would. Not Faith's idle fantasies and certainly not Willow's little magick tricks. Cordelia greatly anticipated seeing the survivors' faces when that one good day came round. And it would, Cordelia thought, as something shifted restlessly within her.
Soon enough.