CHARMED

"All's Halliwell that Ends Well"

by shel

© december 2007

disclaimer: the charmed ones, cole, and leo, and the rest of the cast of characters we've come to know and love, belong to spelling television, inc. and possible other copyright holders. i intended no true infringement on their copyrights; i only wanted to borrow these marvelous characters for a short time in my own scenarios and hopefully return them no worse for wear; the only things i've gained from this story are the satisfaction and pleasure of having written it and in knowing that others may have enjoyed it too…

rating: pg-13

summary: christmas 2002 when phoebe receives an early morning visitor…

timeline: between s5's 'sam i am (daddy dearest)' and 'y tu mummy tambien'…

archive: please don't without expressed permission…

notes: minor references to s5's 'sam i am,' 'the eyes have it' and 'y tu mummy tambien,' s4's 'witch way now?' and 'black as cole,' s5's 'the importance of being phoebe,' s1's 'is there a woogy in the house', s5's 'centennial charmed,' s7's 'seven year witch,' s4's 'charmed and dangerous,' and s8's 'forever charmed'…please let me know if you enjoyed my tale and why and, if not, why not…and, please, don't bother wasting your time or mine by sending any flames…

2:00 AM, December 24, 2002

Phoebe slammed the scissors down on the table, cringing from the echoing sound it made in the otherwise silent kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to wake her sisters because of her stupid insomnia. Cursing her ex-husband once again as its cause, she tried to concentrate on wrapping the paint set for Paige.

But having torn the wrapping for the third time in her frustration, she shoved it all across the table and pressed her palms to her eyes in the hopes of gouging Cole's image from her mind. "Dammit, Cole," she muttered, "get out of my head."

But he was still there, just as she'd last seen him weeks ago – scruffy, exhausted, defeated. "You won't get me to kill you," she swore. "I've enough guilt and blame to last a lifetime; I won't let you add that too." But Cole's image glowed brightly so she squeezed her eyes even tighter shut all the while assuring herself, "It's over, you're done, you're gone. I don't care anymore."

"Liar."

Phoebe shot straight up in her seat, pushing the chair back as she stood to face the intruder. "Who the hell are you," she snapped at the little person standing in the center of the kitchen, "Happy, the Christmas Elf?"

"Perhaps," the older man chuckled as he stroked a pointed ear, "and perhaps I'm nothing more than a figment of your imagination." He looked down at his green tunic, red leggings, and green and red striped shoes that were curled at the toes. "Image, nothing more. 'Tis the season after all," he shrugged.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. He didn't seem dangerous but she knew better than to trust appearances. Still, it was late, she was tired, and if Leo hadn't orbed in by now to help, perhaps Happy was just what he seemed. With a sigh, she opened her eyes, "It's two in the morning, something I can do for you?"

"More like something I can do for you."

"Unless you're a whiz with wrapping," she indicated to the pile of gifts she had stacked on the table, "I don't think so."

He eyed the pile and shook his head as he took off his white trimmed red hat, "Sorry, not into paper cuts."

"Then go away," she ordered. "Ought to report you to Santa," she muttered, "for refusing to wrap Christmas presents."

"You're exhausted," he commented instead. "You're in turmoil. I can help."

Phoebe's eyes widened with alarm. "Did Cole send you? Is that it? You're some new sort of torture?" She darted around the table but stopped short of attacking. "Get out and tell him it won't work! I'm through with him and I sure as hell won't kill him, not on his terms anyway."

"Is that what your heart says?" he mused with a smile.

"My heart's moved on, Happy," she informed him albeit through clenched teeth. "Now, before I forget it's Christmas…"

"If your heart moved on, you wouldn't be wrapping presents at two in the morning," he theorized, ignoring her threat.

"Say what you came to say and leave." Her fists were now clenched at her sides as she towered over him.

"I thought you'd never ask," he chuckled and waved to her seat. "Please," he requested when she didn't budge from her spot, "it's nothing dangerous but it might be easier for you if you were sitting."

She watched him warily as he followed her to the table. She had a sudden urge to stuff the hat's white pom-pom tip into his mouth. When he eyed her mug of cocoa, she grumbled, "It's cold but I suppose I could heat some more."

"No matter," he shrugged as he handed her the mug, "I don't want it and you won't be drinking it."

She looked from the mug to his disgustingly cheerful expression. "Well?"

"Well, Ms. Impatience, now you look into your mug and see your future."

"Lydia left out the lesson on substituting cocoa for tea leaves," she snorted.

He ignored her and pushed the mug closer. "Look inside. Look deep. Look at what your future holds."

Phoebe slumped in her seat. "Didn't Cole explain that's not how it works for me? Just report back to him and get it over with. It's late, I'm tired, and I don't want to deal with this right now."

"I've told you Cole hasn't sent me," he insisted. "Now, look inside and see."

Some cocoa splashed onto her hand when he jerked the mug but just as she was about to protest, she thought she spotted clouds swirling in the mug's cocoa. Unable to glance away, she watched the paler shade of cocoa swirl around and around. Hypnotized, she barely heard the elf whispering in her ear.

"That's it, Phoebe, watch as the future takes shape. See what will be unless you decide to alter its course."

Startled by that last warning, she turned her head sharply towards the elf but her vision blurred and the room spun and she gripped the edge of the table for support. "What, what have you done to me?"

He watched as her eyelids drooped and shut and she sank back into the chair, her chin tipped down. "Nothing, Phoebe. I've done nothing but reveal your future."

"'m dream'n'," her voice slurred, "'snot hap'n'n."

"Perhaps," he smiled, "and perhaps this is your Christmas miracle after all."

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