Goodnight Sweet Prince
He always tried to keep his plans as simple as possible. The more elaborate the scheme, the more things that could go wrong. The trick was to come up with a chain of events that would lead up to the desired result and then set them in motion. This had to be done in a way that Prue thought she was being given signs from above.
Immediately after his meeting with the infected demon, he had sent the Shadow to spy on Prue with the intention of finding out the best time to get her to Vinceres. He couldn't suggest it himself because he didn't want to let on that he had any knowledge whatsoever about him. Besides, Prue would hardly take to anything he might suggest.
While he waited for the Shadow's return, he assigned himself to finding out all the roads and routes that led to the old factory, and tried to figure out ways to get Prue there. It took all day and he almost forgot his appointment with Phoebe.
Finding himself with so much planning left to do, he had decided to call Phoebe, blame the 'case' he was working on, and ask if she could meet him by the waterfront for a short walk instead. Phoebe would understand. 'The case' was a lousy excuse, but it seemed to work every time and he was secretly relieved it did, because he could not seem to come up with anything better in her presence. She had an uncanny way of making him skirt dangerously close to the truth and he made a mental note of shaping up on that point before he said too much.
Afterwards, he couldn't help but mull over it; wonder how it happened. Neither he, nor Phoebe had planned to go on any sightseeing trip, but the weather was nice and the boat was there. She had looked at him and said: "Why not?" – and suddenly his planning didn't seem so important.
The next thing he knew they had bought tickets and were running up the gangway just before they pulled it in. Phoebe laughed and so did he.
That was another thing he had begun to do; laugh just for fun, just for feeling good.
Something good? It's not in my nature.
The entire boat trip had been nice, but the moment that caught in his mind took place when they were almost back in port.
The sun was setting and the city had begun to glitter as much as the water in the twilight. Phoebe had drifted away on her own and he found her aft on the deck, staring out over the Bay. Her back was turned and her slender arms wrapped around her petite frame for warmth.
Cole regarded her from a distance for a little while, feeling a strange and unfamiliar emotion calling for attention he didn't want to give. She looked fragile, vulnerable and quite lovely. On an impulse, he removed his jacket and walked up to her.
Phoebe looked up, a little startled as the warm coat was draped over her shoulders, and she gave him a grateful smile before she turned back to the view again. "I've never realized how beautiful it looks from here," she murmured.
Neither have I…
Instead of answering, he put his arms around her, hugging her close, and unresisting, Phoebe snuggled into his embrace with an audible sigh of contentment.
There were so many things he could have done at that moment. He could have called an Athame to his hand, he could have shimmered away with her to the Underworld, and he could have broken her neck without anyone noticing. But he didn't.
He didn't even consider any of these options. He just held her gently, resting his head on her head, feeling the breeze on his face, and puzzling over this feeling of warm contentment, so totally different from the satisfaction he usually felt after a completed mission or a well executed plan.
As the boat was about to be moored, he gently tipped her head toward his and bent down to place a kiss on her lips. Phoebe turned in his arms, and as she kissed him back he came dangerously close to shimmer away with her – but not to the Underworld.
Reluctantly he drew away from her lips. "I think they're waiting for us." He nodded towards the quay.
"Oh." Phoebe's look was distant and unreadable.
They left the boat and strolled along the waterfront in silence as if they were afraid that words might break the fragile dreaminess that surrounded them. Cole had his arm across her shoulders and he tried not to pay any attention to the quiet enjoyment he derived from the simple pleasure of just being there with her.
The evening-sounds of the wharf, with its calling seabirds and empty boats clanging and creaking, created its own background music to a setting that was dimly lit by the rosy twilight of dusk, and the soft atmosphere ushered him gently into a rare relaxed mood.
Fascinated with the unfamiliar coziness of sharing a nice moment with somebody, he found that, in spite of himself, he wanted it to last for just a little bit longer. So he told himself that it was all right, because Phoebe was a sucker for romantic stuff and this would serve his purposes just fine.
His motives thus justified and taken care of, he went on pretending to ignore the mild wind from the Bay and her petite body too close to his.
It was getting late. His car was parked at the other end of town and although he felt oddly attracted to the idea of taking her in his arms and shimmering somewhere, he couldn't very well offer to do that, so he hailed a cab for her instead.
He held the door and Phoebe started to get inside but stopped as she remembered whose coat it was around her shoulders, and shrugged out of it. She handed it over to him with a soft smile, and suddenly they were at that magical moment of parting; both knowing they had to, neither of them really wanting to, and their words got stuck somewhere in between.
Phoebe lingered in the cab-door and he could tell by her look that she hoped for something more. She was just waiting for him to say something, but it was out of the question.
Don't go there!
It was simply unthinkable. Whatever bodily pleasure he saw promised in her eyes, he would just have to find that elsewhere. And yet…
It was so tempting, so desirable, so…
…impossible.
Her eyes were deep and dark like tarns in a moonlit forest, promising cool solace for a burnt soul. All he had to do was ask for it.
Unbidden, the veils of time, which usually secluded his memory in a blissfully impregnable shroud, lifted and part of him began to recall what he had thought was completely lost to him. An unexpected longing for just a little bit of tenderness made itself felt, and for a brief second he was this close to giving in to the temptation.
If he asked her she would say yes, and mean it all the way. She would follow him freely and willingly, and she would submit unresistingly to him gently caressing the clothes off her body and kissing the blood to her skin. He would have his way with her and then…
And then…? Belthazor…?
And why was that even a question?
Who's seducing whom?
"Goodnight, Phoebe," he heard himself say, softly but decisively, gently shredding the spell of silence that had been woven around them like a golden cobweb. She blinked, a polite smile arranging itself on her pretty face to hide the disappointment. He could tell it was faked by the way it failed to reach her eyes.
Phoebe leaned forward a little in a subtle and tentative invite for him to kiss her goodnight, but knowing where his boundaries lay, Cole gently lifted her hand instead to his mouth, and holding her gaze he kissed it softly.
She extended a finger to trace his lips, a million things going through her mind, trying to figure him out.
Go, Phoebe! For both our sakes.
Her hand sank back down and he let it fall out of his grip, the softness of it lingering on his skin. Slowly she backed into the cab. "Goodnight, Mr. Turner," she said in a slightly husky voice.
"Miss Halliwell," he murmured. Then the door closed between them and the cab drove off, leaving him staring after it – after her – wondering if he had just made a big mistake, and if so, what exactly had that mistake been and what would the consequences be?
All of a sudden, Phoebe was taking up more of his mind than he wanted to admit, making his job difficult, making it hard going on with his original intentions for her. Lust he could handle, it was that other thing that disturbed him; the thing that was sending him hidden, inconceivable messages. The self-evidence with which he had removed his coat and put it around her shoulders, for instance. That was not part of any deception or seduction plan. He had simply done it out of … Cole swallowed.
She makes me care. What's going on here?
The wind on his face and Phoebe so close to him, unafraid, ignorant and trusting, had made him feel… different, and he wasn't sure if he dared to feel that again. Suddenly a little apprehensive, he turned inside himself to find the familiar, smoldering hatred that was Belthazor, and discovered that he had to reach for it.
This is unbelievable; I must be mad. Don't make me curious, Phoebe, leave me alone.
I am what I am. It's too late to change that now.
"Witch…" he breathed, and pressing his lips together in concern, Cole shimmered to his car.