Fairy Tale
By RavenWolf
A/N: Okay, I apologize in advance for this fic. I was asked a while back to write a happy Phoebe/Cole story, and out comes this. The Phoebe characterization's choppy, there's really not a plot, and it's not that believable. But it is a happy C/P fic. Pure fluff, so enjoy! Oh, and it's rated R because recently I got busted :wince: and now I'm being super- careful. Acknowledgements: To Kelsey, aka Princess Mcphee, who introduced me to Charmed in the first place.
The glass vase shatters into a million pieces on the ground, each one sparkling in the sun. Water spills across the hot concrete, leaving a patch darked than the rest. It splashes on Phoebe's feet through the strappy sandals, but she doesn't even feel it. She doesn't feel the glass that makes shallow cuts on her shins as it falls.
"Cole," she whispers, as if to speak his name loudly would scare him away.
"Phoebe," he says. His clothes are dirty and his face has aged what seems like twenty years. But he's still standing. Still there.
"I thought you were dead," she says, moving closer to him, but still afraid to touch him. An illusion of her mind. She's going crazy. Cole's dead. "You *were* dead." She stares searchingly into his eyes, but can find no trickery. No lights or mirrors to trick her. He's bleeding a little, a cut over his left eye.
Tentatively, she reaches her hand out to wipe it away. It looks like blood. Feels like blood. He doesn't fade when she touches him, doesn't seep into the ground, isn't borne away by the air.
"I was." He says softly. He reaches out a hand and brushes it through her hair. Instinctively, she leans towards the hand, rubbing it against her face. It's changed, but it's still his hand.
Phoebe doesn't need an explanation. Frankly she doesn't know, and she doesn't care. She just thanks whatever deity brought her love, her husband, her heart to be standing here in front of her. Unharmed. Alive.
She pushes herself into his embrace, feeling all of him. He smells like sweat and dirt and a little bit like fear, but she doesn't care. Because underlying all that, he smells like Cole. He *is* Cole.
She closes her eyes, because what if she opens them, and he's not there? She doesn't move, because she might only touch air. She breathes him and takes what she can get, because what if that's all she gets? What if he's whisked away in a second, and this is all she has of him? For months, she'd been living on the vile memory of him in that hole, that other dimension where he was fighting for his life.
Fighting a fight that he shouldn't, because he's already dead.
Suddenly, it does matter. She pulls back again, daring to take a chance and look at him. "Cole, how did you get back?"
A small smile curves his lips, as though he's sharing a private joke with someone. "Does it really matter?" He moves to pull her back, but she resists.
"Yes it does. How are you back, Cole?" She asks, her voice gaining strength. Cole frowns, as though hurt.
"Why? Why does it matter, Phoebe?"
"Dammit Cole, just tell me!" Her voice rises, fear creeping into it. She's afraid that she'll have to kill him again. She's afraid that he's still the Source. She's afraid that if that's true, she won't be able to do it. She can't kill her lover a second time.
Cole's voice lowers, and he tilts his head down to her. "Let's just say someone up there took pity on me." He cups her chin in his hand.
She grimaces and turns away. "You know that's not good enough, Cole," she says softly. She wishes he would stop touching her. She can't bear to think that he's not her Cole, not when he feels so real.
"Alright. Exactly what happened? I really don't know. Someone up there took pity on me.. I've been hanging on for the past fifty years, and I guess they decided that I deserved a reward." He sees the question in her eyes, and answers it. "Time passed differently there."
He cups her face and she turns her head to face him. He's gazing at her lovingly, mixed with some hurt and trepidation.
Phoebe melts. She reaches up and strokes his cheek gently with her thumb. The tears are coming now. Soft and quiet, they've crept up on her. She's never been an elegant crier, but this time, she is. This time, there are no snorts and snuffles, no runny nose and eyes so puffy she can barely see. The tears are soft and gentle. They're liberating, a freedom. And they fall carefully, barely even damaging her make-up. Almost as if they don't want anyone to know that they're there.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I thought......I don't know what I thought."
"Shhh, Phoebe, shhh, it's alright, love. I'm here. I'll always be here."
She stares at a point somewhere behind his face. "Do you mean that?"
"Of course I do. It was for you, Phoebe. It was for you that I didn't give up. I wouldn't. I just kept fighting. As long as I kept going, there was always some chance, no matter how slim, that I might see you again. I fought my way back for you, Phoebe."
Crying harder now, and the tears are falling all over each other as if in a hurry to get out first. "God, Cole, I love you so much. I love you. I love you. All I could think about these past four months was you. The way you died...I can't stop blaming myself."
Cole pulls her close and plants a kiss on top of her head. "It's not your fault, baby. It's not your fault."
"Yes, yes it is." Sobbing now. "I should've seen it, Cole. I should've noticed."
"There still wouldn't have been anything you could've done. There was no way to save me from the moment I became the Source."
"I should've found a way."
"Phoebe, you can't fix everything."
"I know. I just...You were *gone* Cole. You *left* me here, all alone."
"Listen, to me, Phoebe. Listen well. I will always find you. I will always come back for you. I'll always wait for you. And I'll never, *never* leave you. Not as long as you'll have me. What we have is forever. I love you, Phoebe Halliwell, and nothing will ever come between us, not death, not evil, nothing. As long as you love me, I will never leave you. I promise."
Phoebe's sobs slow. "You know I do. Love you, that is."
She takes his hand and pulls him upstairs. "I need to show you just how much," she says, planting a kiss on his hand when she turns.
Cole's back. She'll never know what posessed the gods to bring him back to her, but it's enough to restore her faith. Sometimes, love stories end happily. Sometimes, life does play out like a fairy tale.
By RavenWolf
A/N: Okay, I apologize in advance for this fic. I was asked a while back to write a happy Phoebe/Cole story, and out comes this. The Phoebe characterization's choppy, there's really not a plot, and it's not that believable. But it is a happy C/P fic. Pure fluff, so enjoy! Oh, and it's rated R because recently I got busted :wince: and now I'm being super- careful. Acknowledgements: To Kelsey, aka Princess Mcphee, who introduced me to Charmed in the first place.
The glass vase shatters into a million pieces on the ground, each one sparkling in the sun. Water spills across the hot concrete, leaving a patch darked than the rest. It splashes on Phoebe's feet through the strappy sandals, but she doesn't even feel it. She doesn't feel the glass that makes shallow cuts on her shins as it falls.
"Cole," she whispers, as if to speak his name loudly would scare him away.
"Phoebe," he says. His clothes are dirty and his face has aged what seems like twenty years. But he's still standing. Still there.
"I thought you were dead," she says, moving closer to him, but still afraid to touch him. An illusion of her mind. She's going crazy. Cole's dead. "You *were* dead." She stares searchingly into his eyes, but can find no trickery. No lights or mirrors to trick her. He's bleeding a little, a cut over his left eye.
Tentatively, she reaches her hand out to wipe it away. It looks like blood. Feels like blood. He doesn't fade when she touches him, doesn't seep into the ground, isn't borne away by the air.
"I was." He says softly. He reaches out a hand and brushes it through her hair. Instinctively, she leans towards the hand, rubbing it against her face. It's changed, but it's still his hand.
Phoebe doesn't need an explanation. Frankly she doesn't know, and she doesn't care. She just thanks whatever deity brought her love, her husband, her heart to be standing here in front of her. Unharmed. Alive.
She pushes herself into his embrace, feeling all of him. He smells like sweat and dirt and a little bit like fear, but she doesn't care. Because underlying all that, he smells like Cole. He *is* Cole.
She closes her eyes, because what if she opens them, and he's not there? She doesn't move, because she might only touch air. She breathes him and takes what she can get, because what if that's all she gets? What if he's whisked away in a second, and this is all she has of him? For months, she'd been living on the vile memory of him in that hole, that other dimension where he was fighting for his life.
Fighting a fight that he shouldn't, because he's already dead.
Suddenly, it does matter. She pulls back again, daring to take a chance and look at him. "Cole, how did you get back?"
A small smile curves his lips, as though he's sharing a private joke with someone. "Does it really matter?" He moves to pull her back, but she resists.
"Yes it does. How are you back, Cole?" She asks, her voice gaining strength. Cole frowns, as though hurt.
"Why? Why does it matter, Phoebe?"
"Dammit Cole, just tell me!" Her voice rises, fear creeping into it. She's afraid that she'll have to kill him again. She's afraid that he's still the Source. She's afraid that if that's true, she won't be able to do it. She can't kill her lover a second time.
Cole's voice lowers, and he tilts his head down to her. "Let's just say someone up there took pity on me." He cups her chin in his hand.
She grimaces and turns away. "You know that's not good enough, Cole," she says softly. She wishes he would stop touching her. She can't bear to think that he's not her Cole, not when he feels so real.
"Alright. Exactly what happened? I really don't know. Someone up there took pity on me.. I've been hanging on for the past fifty years, and I guess they decided that I deserved a reward." He sees the question in her eyes, and answers it. "Time passed differently there."
He cups her face and she turns her head to face him. He's gazing at her lovingly, mixed with some hurt and trepidation.
Phoebe melts. She reaches up and strokes his cheek gently with her thumb. The tears are coming now. Soft and quiet, they've crept up on her. She's never been an elegant crier, but this time, she is. This time, there are no snorts and snuffles, no runny nose and eyes so puffy she can barely see. The tears are soft and gentle. They're liberating, a freedom. And they fall carefully, barely even damaging her make-up. Almost as if they don't want anyone to know that they're there.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I thought......I don't know what I thought."
"Shhh, Phoebe, shhh, it's alright, love. I'm here. I'll always be here."
She stares at a point somewhere behind his face. "Do you mean that?"
"Of course I do. It was for you, Phoebe. It was for you that I didn't give up. I wouldn't. I just kept fighting. As long as I kept going, there was always some chance, no matter how slim, that I might see you again. I fought my way back for you, Phoebe."
Crying harder now, and the tears are falling all over each other as if in a hurry to get out first. "God, Cole, I love you so much. I love you. I love you. All I could think about these past four months was you. The way you died...I can't stop blaming myself."
Cole pulls her close and plants a kiss on top of her head. "It's not your fault, baby. It's not your fault."
"Yes, yes it is." Sobbing now. "I should've seen it, Cole. I should've noticed."
"There still wouldn't have been anything you could've done. There was no way to save me from the moment I became the Source."
"I should've found a way."
"Phoebe, you can't fix everything."
"I know. I just...You were *gone* Cole. You *left* me here, all alone."
"Listen, to me, Phoebe. Listen well. I will always find you. I will always come back for you. I'll always wait for you. And I'll never, *never* leave you. Not as long as you'll have me. What we have is forever. I love you, Phoebe Halliwell, and nothing will ever come between us, not death, not evil, nothing. As long as you love me, I will never leave you. I promise."
Phoebe's sobs slow. "You know I do. Love you, that is."
She takes his hand and pulls him upstairs. "I need to show you just how much," she says, planting a kiss on his hand when she turns.
Cole's back. She'll never know what posessed the gods to bring him back to her, but it's enough to restore her faith. Sometimes, love stories end happily. Sometimes, life does play out like a fairy tale.
