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selenakStill title-less. If anyone has any suggestions, please tell me. Also, an SFU icon would be nifty. *looks at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh with pleading eyes* Anyway, sitting in a train all the way to Munich was inspiring to my muse, so I give you the next parts:
III. Notifications
Fred blamed herself for not thinking about it right away. She should have. Everyone else had some sort of hang-up about their parents, and after meeting Wesley’s father, in a manner of speaking, she understood this somewhat better, but Fred was on the phone with her folk in Texas on a regular basis, and she should have thought about Cordelia’s parents. As it was, the idea struck her in the middle of going through Cordelia’s clothes for something Cordelia would wear for the funeral. The tiny Hispanic funeral director had pointed out to her this was necessary, which was another thing she was embarassed about not thinking of first. .
“Oh God,” she said to Lorne, who had gone with her to the Hyperion where Cordelia’s things were still kept in boxes and cupboards. “We can’t – someone has to tell Cordy’s parents in person. Do you know where they live?”
“Fredikins,” Lorne replied, “I don’t have the slightest idea. Besides. The fact that they didn’t visit during all her months in a coma seems to hint at a certain lack of interest, wouldn’t you say? Or it could be worse. Her mother could be like my own dear parent and prepare a dance of celebration right now.”
“You don’t mean that,” Fred said in Pylean, though she knew he did. Still, not telling Cordy’s parents seemed wrong on every level.
Lorne sighed and said, pointedly using English: “Pretty in Pink might know. Didn’t she put them on the list anyway?”
“I haven’t looked at the list,” Fred said, feeling worse by the minute. “I couldn’t. It – it made it so real, you know? All that time Cordy was in a coma, I knew she’d wake up again. I just knew it. It wasn’t right, her lying so still and all. Not her. And then she woke up, and then she didn’t, and now she never will…”
Lorne put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll find something for her to wear,” he said quietly. “Go back to the belly of the beast and ask Harmony.”
“Are you sure?”
“As if I would let anyone else dress our Princess for the last time,” Lorne said. “Hush.”
Fred could have taken a taxi or called a limousine, but she decided to walk back to the Wolfram and Hart building, trying to figure out what to say to Cordelia’s parents if Harmony did indeed have their address or at least their telephone number. Then she remembered the last time she had seen Cordelia before the visits to the hospital began. They had cut her skin to use her blood against Jasmine, and it had cured Lorne, Wesley and Gunn, just as Fred had surmised it would, but the memory of the smell of scented candles everywhere and Cordelia’s blood dripping still made her feel sick. There had been something else there, someone, but as soon as the idea came it left her again. It was one of the dark areas her mind shied away from on instinct.
She should have figured out a method to wake up Cordelia. That was what she should have been working on all this time. Why was it that she had found a way to materialize a ghost because she had felt sorry for Spike, who had been little more than a stranger, but couldn’t find a way to help one of her dearest friends?
The rational part in her pointed out to Fred she was neither a doctor nor a magician, but Fred didn’t feel very rational right now.
When she arrived at Wolfram and Hart, Harmony was busy drawing unicorns on the sheet in front of her, so Fred figured she’d have the time for a chat.
“Cordy’s parents?” Harmony said. “Sure they are on the list. It wasn’t easy to find them, because her father totally went underground after getting out of jail.”
“Cordelia’s father was in jail?”
Harmony sniffed. “Yeah, and she always acted so secretive about it. Big deal. Like, my father got banned from his golf club, too, when they thought he cheated. He almost wouldn’t let me have my car after that, you know? Anyway, I tracked them down. Don’t worry, those Fisher guys will deal with them. That’s what Angel is paying them for, right?”
“I don’t think we should let Cordelia’s parents know from strangers,” Fred said.
“You never met them,” Harmony said matter of factly. “Like, Mrs. Chase never stops talking. And some of us have work to do, you know? But if you want to, call them. Hey, you could call Buffy and the others as well.”
“You put Buffy on that list?” Angel’s voice interrupted. He was standing in the entrance of his office, staring at Harmony in disbelief. She nodded eagerly.
“Every arch nemesis Cordy ever had,” she said proudly. “Even stupid Xander Harris. He completely ruined her life and brainwashed her, you know? He was, like, the Angelus to her Drusilla. But she would want all her enemies to be there and see how she’s drop dead gorgeous for the rest of eternity while they start with the beer bellies and the withered boobs and all. I got all the addresses from Tucker’s loser brother when he was here the other week.”
Fred had seen that look on Angel’s face when Spike first showed up via mail. It made her mentally prepare to stop him from staking Harmony. But as soon as it came, it was gone and his face was blank again.
“Angel…” she began.
“I’ll go to the funeral home and sort this out,” he said. “It’s dark now, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“About Cordelia’s parents…”
Angel hesitated. Then he said: “Call them.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Believe me, Fred,” Angel said, and there was something in his voice she couldn’t identify, “I’m the very last person to tell anyone about the death of their child.”
IV. The Deceased
When Rico brought the body, David Fisher knew he could handle this one on his own. Rico was an umatched artist with reconstructing battered faces, true, but Cordelia Chase, 24, had died in a coma. There wasn’t even a wound anywhere. Besides, he was only too aware he had dumped a good deal of the business on Rico and Nate; contributing what he still could made him feel slightly less guilty about it.
A non-violent death. David found the idea soothing until he remembered the woman who had died in the middle of a happy anniversary with her husband. The woman whose body he had dumped somewhere on the road while a madman held him at gunpoint. Of all the violations of that day, this one somehow had felt the worst. There was little David took more seriously about being a funeral director than being entrusted with the dead. Treating them with respect, doing what he could to give them dignity, no matter how they died. He still felt he failed that woman unforgivably.
“You’ll better not dump me in the garbage, Mister,” said the newest arrival at Fisher & Diaz, whose still, nude body was lying in front of him. “I’m Cordelia Chase. And while we’re at it, can you do something about my hair? It had a horrible time these last years, but I want to be buried as a brunette without curls, thank you very much.”
“You will,” David assured her, putting all the instruments and fluids he’d need on the table next to him, and the young woman squinted.
“Wow,” she said. “Detached much? Aren’t you even a little freaked out that a ghost is talking to you?”
“They do on a regular basis,” David said matter of factly. “Of course, this is all a fantasy I started to have in order to cope with the loss of my father several years ago. Or maybe it is some kind of projection of my inner issues. I don’t know, and I don’t care. They’re my fantasies. I didn’t even tell the therapist Keith and I were going to last year about them.”
The Cordelia Chase his imagination had produced was dressed in designer jeans and a t-shirt that showed off her figure. This unfortunately reminded him of Keith and Celeste. He had assumed things would be better once Keith returned; that the panic attacks and the endless hollowness would cease. Instead, hearing that Keith had decided on a one night stand with a woman had added a new kind of panic to the multitude. David tried not to stare at the dead woman’s cleavage, but he couldn’t help it. She wasn’t the thin, anorexic type so common in Los Angeles. He could imagine Keith wanting a woman like that, if Keith decided to try more of the straight life, that was. If Keith decided he had enough of David and his neediness and his inability to get over what had happened.
“I’m not your fantasy,” the late Cordelia Chase said crossly. “It’s so weird, talking to an outsider after all this time. I’m a ghost, okay? And anyway, aren’t you gay? You are, right? Even though you’re staring at my breasts, and sure, they’re great, but hey, enough already, okay?”
David blushed. It was an annoying habit he had not been able to get rid of. Keith used to find it endearing, but these days, there wasn’t much left to blush about. He focused on the dead body in front of him instead of the imaginary one pacing through his place of work and was relieved to have some professionalism kick in. Examining it, he found matching scars on her back and stomach.
“I fell on a rebar that one time,” she informed him. “After watching my boyfriend maul his best friend. Can’t tell you which sucked worse.”
“Do you want me to cover it up?” David asked politely, trying not to imagine watching boyfriends kissing their pals.
“No,” she said. “No point. I’ll be wearing clothes anyway, right?”
He also saw stretching marks on her stomach, and looked at the sheet with the personal details Rico had handed him again. Confused, he said:
“There is nothing about a child here. But you were pregnant.”
“Twice,” she said, sounding somewhat brittle for the first time. “I’m a real ad why safer sex is a good, good thing, buddy.”
Lifting her right arm, he saw a scar at her wrist. The tissue was well-healed; it wasn’t a recent one. Still, he wondered whether she had tried to kill herself at some point.
“You didn’t want children?” David asked, unsure. “I always did. Keith and I were thinking about adopting one before… well, before.”
“Wanting them wasn’t the point,” Cordelia replied, looked at the embalming fluids and wrinkled her nose. “Nobody asked me. I thought getting tortured with visions was bad, but you know what? Getting hijacked by some freak on a power trip is worse.”
At that, David stopped his preliminary examination and stared at her.
“Yes,” he said. She clicked her tongue.
“And you know the thing that would make me throw up if I still had, like, a body? At some moments, I enjoyed it. Not most of the time, most of the time I was furious and scared and helpless, and I hated every second, but sometimes I went in the other direction because it was so bad, and I got off.”
Professional to the last, he made it to the sink in time to throw up. Afterwards, he stared at the flowing water and it imagined being cleaned away right with the puke.
“David,” said Nate’s voice from the stairs, and David turned around. Nate had shouldered Maya, and they both looked down at him. So far, David had seen Maya as resembling Lisa more than her father, but right now, her expression was entirely Nate’s. She was a Fisher, God help her.
“I’m fine,” he said, mustering his smile for clients he didn’t talk to anymore.
“That’s bullshit, David,” Nate said angrily. At that moment, the bell rang. Normally, David avoided going to the door, but right now, he would have done anything to get out of a conversation he didn’t want to have, so he pulled his coat off while walking and went upstairs to open. When he passed Nate, Maya stretched out an arm, and he could feel her tiny fingers briefly touching his shoulder. It made him speed up his steps.
“David, you’re…” Nate began, following him, but David, ignoring him, opened the door. It probably was one of Claire’s friends, though they all seemed to have a key these days. In any case, it was someone who couldn’t ask him for anything important.
The man standing outside actually made him blink. It wasn’t so much that he was tall, dark and handsome, or even that he wore a leather coat and looked suspiciously like a fantasy David had had as an adolescent. No, it was his skin.
David had lost confidence in almost all other things, but if there was one thing he knew inside out, it was his trade. And that man wasn’t just pale. No, he had the skin of a corpse.
“I’m Angel,” the stranger said, and David turned around to make sure Nate saw and heard him, too. Nate just looked irritated, which wasn’t that unusual. Maya chose this precise moment to start crying.
The apparition at the door looked at the baby and kindly suggested:
“Maybe you should try making her listen to vacuum cleaners. That always helps.”
Next: Mr. Dad to the rescue! (Had to use that quote.)
kathyh with pleading eyes* Anyway, sitting in a train all the way to Munich was inspiring to my muse, so I give you the next parts: III. Notifications
Fred blamed herself for not thinking about it right away. She should have. Everyone else had some sort of hang-up about their parents, and after meeting Wesley’s father, in a manner of speaking, she understood this somewhat better, but Fred was on the phone with her folk in Texas on a regular basis, and she should have thought about Cordelia’s parents. As it was, the idea struck her in the middle of going through Cordelia’s clothes for something Cordelia would wear for the funeral. The tiny Hispanic funeral director had pointed out to her this was necessary, which was another thing she was embarassed about not thinking of first. .
“Oh God,” she said to Lorne, who had gone with her to the Hyperion where Cordelia’s things were still kept in boxes and cupboards. “We can’t – someone has to tell Cordy’s parents in person. Do you know where they live?”
“Fredikins,” Lorne replied, “I don’t have the slightest idea. Besides. The fact that they didn’t visit during all her months in a coma seems to hint at a certain lack of interest, wouldn’t you say? Or it could be worse. Her mother could be like my own dear parent and prepare a dance of celebration right now.”
“You don’t mean that,” Fred said in Pylean, though she knew he did. Still, not telling Cordy’s parents seemed wrong on every level.
Lorne sighed and said, pointedly using English: “Pretty in Pink might know. Didn’t she put them on the list anyway?”
“I haven’t looked at the list,” Fred said, feeling worse by the minute. “I couldn’t. It – it made it so real, you know? All that time Cordy was in a coma, I knew she’d wake up again. I just knew it. It wasn’t right, her lying so still and all. Not her. And then she woke up, and then she didn’t, and now she never will…”
Lorne put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll find something for her to wear,” he said quietly. “Go back to the belly of the beast and ask Harmony.”
“Are you sure?”
“As if I would let anyone else dress our Princess for the last time,” Lorne said. “Hush.”
Fred could have taken a taxi or called a limousine, but she decided to walk back to the Wolfram and Hart building, trying to figure out what to say to Cordelia’s parents if Harmony did indeed have their address or at least their telephone number. Then she remembered the last time she had seen Cordelia before the visits to the hospital began. They had cut her skin to use her blood against Jasmine, and it had cured Lorne, Wesley and Gunn, just as Fred had surmised it would, but the memory of the smell of scented candles everywhere and Cordelia’s blood dripping still made her feel sick. There had been something else there, someone, but as soon as the idea came it left her again. It was one of the dark areas her mind shied away from on instinct.
She should have figured out a method to wake up Cordelia. That was what she should have been working on all this time. Why was it that she had found a way to materialize a ghost because she had felt sorry for Spike, who had been little more than a stranger, but couldn’t find a way to help one of her dearest friends?
The rational part in her pointed out to Fred she was neither a doctor nor a magician, but Fred didn’t feel very rational right now.
When she arrived at Wolfram and Hart, Harmony was busy drawing unicorns on the sheet in front of her, so Fred figured she’d have the time for a chat.
“Cordy’s parents?” Harmony said. “Sure they are on the list. It wasn’t easy to find them, because her father totally went underground after getting out of jail.”
“Cordelia’s father was in jail?”
Harmony sniffed. “Yeah, and she always acted so secretive about it. Big deal. Like, my father got banned from his golf club, too, when they thought he cheated. He almost wouldn’t let me have my car after that, you know? Anyway, I tracked them down. Don’t worry, those Fisher guys will deal with them. That’s what Angel is paying them for, right?”
“I don’t think we should let Cordelia’s parents know from strangers,” Fred said.
“You never met them,” Harmony said matter of factly. “Like, Mrs. Chase never stops talking. And some of us have work to do, you know? But if you want to, call them. Hey, you could call Buffy and the others as well.”
“You put Buffy on that list?” Angel’s voice interrupted. He was standing in the entrance of his office, staring at Harmony in disbelief. She nodded eagerly.
“Every arch nemesis Cordy ever had,” she said proudly. “Even stupid Xander Harris. He completely ruined her life and brainwashed her, you know? He was, like, the Angelus to her Drusilla. But she would want all her enemies to be there and see how she’s drop dead gorgeous for the rest of eternity while they start with the beer bellies and the withered boobs and all. I got all the addresses from Tucker’s loser brother when he was here the other week.”
Fred had seen that look on Angel’s face when Spike first showed up via mail. It made her mentally prepare to stop him from staking Harmony. But as soon as it came, it was gone and his face was blank again.
“Angel…” she began.
“I’ll go to the funeral home and sort this out,” he said. “It’s dark now, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“About Cordelia’s parents…”
Angel hesitated. Then he said: “Call them.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Believe me, Fred,” Angel said, and there was something in his voice she couldn’t identify, “I’m the very last person to tell anyone about the death of their child.”
IV. The Deceased
When Rico brought the body, David Fisher knew he could handle this one on his own. Rico was an umatched artist with reconstructing battered faces, true, but Cordelia Chase, 24, had died in a coma. There wasn’t even a wound anywhere. Besides, he was only too aware he had dumped a good deal of the business on Rico and Nate; contributing what he still could made him feel slightly less guilty about it.
A non-violent death. David found the idea soothing until he remembered the woman who had died in the middle of a happy anniversary with her husband. The woman whose body he had dumped somewhere on the road while a madman held him at gunpoint. Of all the violations of that day, this one somehow had felt the worst. There was little David took more seriously about being a funeral director than being entrusted with the dead. Treating them with respect, doing what he could to give them dignity, no matter how they died. He still felt he failed that woman unforgivably.
“You’ll better not dump me in the garbage, Mister,” said the newest arrival at Fisher & Diaz, whose still, nude body was lying in front of him. “I’m Cordelia Chase. And while we’re at it, can you do something about my hair? It had a horrible time these last years, but I want to be buried as a brunette without curls, thank you very much.”
“You will,” David assured her, putting all the instruments and fluids he’d need on the table next to him, and the young woman squinted.
“Wow,” she said. “Detached much? Aren’t you even a little freaked out that a ghost is talking to you?”
“They do on a regular basis,” David said matter of factly. “Of course, this is all a fantasy I started to have in order to cope with the loss of my father several years ago. Or maybe it is some kind of projection of my inner issues. I don’t know, and I don’t care. They’re my fantasies. I didn’t even tell the therapist Keith and I were going to last year about them.”
The Cordelia Chase his imagination had produced was dressed in designer jeans and a t-shirt that showed off her figure. This unfortunately reminded him of Keith and Celeste. He had assumed things would be better once Keith returned; that the panic attacks and the endless hollowness would cease. Instead, hearing that Keith had decided on a one night stand with a woman had added a new kind of panic to the multitude. David tried not to stare at the dead woman’s cleavage, but he couldn’t help it. She wasn’t the thin, anorexic type so common in Los Angeles. He could imagine Keith wanting a woman like that, if Keith decided to try more of the straight life, that was. If Keith decided he had enough of David and his neediness and his inability to get over what had happened.
“I’m not your fantasy,” the late Cordelia Chase said crossly. “It’s so weird, talking to an outsider after all this time. I’m a ghost, okay? And anyway, aren’t you gay? You are, right? Even though you’re staring at my breasts, and sure, they’re great, but hey, enough already, okay?”
David blushed. It was an annoying habit he had not been able to get rid of. Keith used to find it endearing, but these days, there wasn’t much left to blush about. He focused on the dead body in front of him instead of the imaginary one pacing through his place of work and was relieved to have some professionalism kick in. Examining it, he found matching scars on her back and stomach.
“I fell on a rebar that one time,” she informed him. “After watching my boyfriend maul his best friend. Can’t tell you which sucked worse.”
“Do you want me to cover it up?” David asked politely, trying not to imagine watching boyfriends kissing their pals.
“No,” she said. “No point. I’ll be wearing clothes anyway, right?”
He also saw stretching marks on her stomach, and looked at the sheet with the personal details Rico had handed him again. Confused, he said:
“There is nothing about a child here. But you were pregnant.”
“Twice,” she said, sounding somewhat brittle for the first time. “I’m a real ad why safer sex is a good, good thing, buddy.”
Lifting her right arm, he saw a scar at her wrist. The tissue was well-healed; it wasn’t a recent one. Still, he wondered whether she had tried to kill herself at some point.
“You didn’t want children?” David asked, unsure. “I always did. Keith and I were thinking about adopting one before… well, before.”
“Wanting them wasn’t the point,” Cordelia replied, looked at the embalming fluids and wrinkled her nose. “Nobody asked me. I thought getting tortured with visions was bad, but you know what? Getting hijacked by some freak on a power trip is worse.”
At that, David stopped his preliminary examination and stared at her.
“Yes,” he said. She clicked her tongue.
“And you know the thing that would make me throw up if I still had, like, a body? At some moments, I enjoyed it. Not most of the time, most of the time I was furious and scared and helpless, and I hated every second, but sometimes I went in the other direction because it was so bad, and I got off.”
Professional to the last, he made it to the sink in time to throw up. Afterwards, he stared at the flowing water and it imagined being cleaned away right with the puke.
“David,” said Nate’s voice from the stairs, and David turned around. Nate had shouldered Maya, and they both looked down at him. So far, David had seen Maya as resembling Lisa more than her father, but right now, her expression was entirely Nate’s. She was a Fisher, God help her.
“I’m fine,” he said, mustering his smile for clients he didn’t talk to anymore.
“That’s bullshit, David,” Nate said angrily. At that moment, the bell rang. Normally, David avoided going to the door, but right now, he would have done anything to get out of a conversation he didn’t want to have, so he pulled his coat off while walking and went upstairs to open. When he passed Nate, Maya stretched out an arm, and he could feel her tiny fingers briefly touching his shoulder. It made him speed up his steps.
“David, you’re…” Nate began, following him, but David, ignoring him, opened the door. It probably was one of Claire’s friends, though they all seemed to have a key these days. In any case, it was someone who couldn’t ask him for anything important.
The man standing outside actually made him blink. It wasn’t so much that he was tall, dark and handsome, or even that he wore a leather coat and looked suspiciously like a fantasy David had had as an adolescent. No, it was his skin.
David had lost confidence in almost all other things, but if there was one thing he knew inside out, it was his trade. And that man wasn’t just pale. No, he had the skin of a corpse.
“I’m Angel,” the stranger said, and David turned around to make sure Nate saw and heard him, too. Nate just looked irritated, which wasn’t that unusual. Maya chose this precise moment to start crying.
The apparition at the door looked at the baby and kindly suggested:
“Maybe you should try making her listen to vacuum cleaners. That always helps.”
Next: Mr. Dad to the rescue! (Had to use that quote.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 02:32 pm (UTC)I'm also loving how complicated this funeral is (must be). Cordy's parents, Buffy, Xander....it always bugged me that we didn't really get the impact of Cordy's death on Xander. But then I'm a Xander fan and have many issues.
BTW - there's a typo:
***David blushed. It was an annoying habit he had not been able to get rid of. Keith used to find it endearing, but these days, there wasn’t much left to bush
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 02:44 pm (UTC)Also, Xander will make it to the funeral, I promise. Of all of Cordy's romances, I always liked hers with Xander best, and I agree, his reaction should be shown.
Re: shared experience: it bugged me that we never got the impact on what the Jasmine experience must have meant for Cordy, but then considering that in You're Welcome, she was already dead and in any case just had a day, I can understand that. Barely. However, it just begged to be alluded to with David.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 03:14 pm (UTC)Oh bravo! What a brilliant connection. I love the combination of humour and angst in this. Harmony is scarily wonderful and David is...David.
Also, an SFU icon would be nifty. *looks at kathyh with pleading eyes*
With pleasure, but you might have to wait until after Tuesday. Depends how I get on with my latest project!
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 03:46 pm (UTC)One of the reasons why I thought the Jossverse would mesh with the SFU one is that both mix angst and humour, and I hoped to reflect that in fanfic...
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Date: 2006-03-25 03:23 pm (UTC)Harmony's comparison of prison to getting kicked out of the golf club -- the whole conversation of David and Cordelia, and the parallels between them.
Then Angel as David's HS fantasy -- awesome!
And Maya: She was a Fisher, God help her.
And now Angel offering help with the baby. *sniffles*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 03:53 pm (UTC)Then Angel as David's HS fantasy -- awesome!
He would be.*g*
Maya: not having seen the fifth season yet, I don't know whether Alan Ball lets her make it out of the show alive, but if he does, you just know that later on, she'll join the family club of being screwed up in interesting ways, poor girl.
And now Angel offering help with the baby. *sniffles*
You and
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 04:09 pm (UTC)And Anya and Cordy, as they were so stinking each others' counterparts... Xander sure did have a type. I mean, outside of the "evill demonic bitches" genre.
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Date: 2006-03-25 04:17 pm (UTC)Xander: has a type, definitely. Alas a reason why Andrew doesn't have a chance, no matter how you see Xander's sexuality. He'd never spar and be no-nonsense blunt!
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Date: 2006-03-25 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 05:34 pm (UTC)Buffy as porn star name... hmmm...
Wonder if Dawn will come to the funeral, and what they'll make of her startling resemblance to Celeste.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 05:24 pm (UTC)And again, if I said too much in my comments to the first installment, I am so extremely sorry. I feel terrible about it.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 05:30 pm (UTC)Also, I'm glad you continue to approve.
Now, a question to the expert: I picked the name of the priest Rico recommended at random because I couldn't remember eithe the one he and Vanessa usually went to or the one he went to about his adultery, so could you tell these to me?
no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 05:46 pm (UTC)Done! And PHEW!
As far as the priest, I am embarassed to say that I can't remember the answer to that question! I was actually trying to think of it when you mentioned the priest's name. I did just check the fourth season premiere, in which Rico talked to the priest about his adultery, and his name wasn't given. As far as a family priest of Rico and Vanessa's, I'm not sure if a name was ever mentioned or not. I am, coincidentally though, just beginning to rewatch the series, since the fifth season's coming out on DVD here next week and I want to do a big marathon of the entire series...so the second I do come across an answer, I'll let you know ASAP! :)
And again, I am *so* glad you missed that comment. It was one of those moments where I was just continuing a conversation and then later in the day, thinking about what I wrote, it suddenly struck me that "Oh my God, I just talked about one of the huge twists at the end of the series...and I can't remember if Selena's seen the fifth season or not!!" So I flew home in a blind panic and posted the follow-up comment, fingers crossed that you'd read it first! Again, PHEW! :-)
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Date: 2006-03-25 05:49 pm (UTC)Small English correction: "anorexic", not "anaxoregic".
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Date: 2006-03-26 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-25 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 01:56 am (UTC)This makes me kind of wish I watched Six Feet Under.
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Date: 2006-03-26 04:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 06:01 am (UTC)LOL!!! Oh, man, Harmony. That was just fantastic.
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Date: 2006-03-27 01:10 pm (UTC)