Threefold: Truth And Consequences
A Charmed Short Story
By Laura Picken

Author's Note: I promised a shoutout if I ever found this thing, so here it is. After one last Google search, I found the archives of the one fan 'zine I was ever printed in: The Hot Corner ( . ). I had totally forgotten they published two stories of mine: "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered"...and this one. So thank you, Hot Corner, for keeping your archives online! There's some good work there, and not just mine. You guys should check it out.

This is absolutely, totally AU past, oh let's just call it the first half of season 1. Prue's not dead, Andy's not dead, The Elders have yet to rear their ugly little heads, and the only ones who know about each other are Leo (who knows about the Charmed Ones) and Phoebe (who knows Leo's a whitelighter). There's no Paige here at all.

DISCLAIMER: All the major characters in this story belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent and Warner Brothers. If I owned them, Andy would never have died, and this would have ended up a *very* different show.

Anyway, let the games begin!...LP

The sound of heavy footsteps resounded through the darkened halls of the Museum of Natural History. Joe looked up from his newspaper into the darkness behind the light on his desk, but when the pattern of the noise seemed to slow, Joe sighed with relief and returned his attention to the Chronicle's crossword puzzle. "Let's see," the guard asked to no one in particular, "What's a five letter word for death, starting with W..."

"How 'bout witch?"

Joe jumped at the sound of a female voice behind him, but the black-clad figure proved to be able to move much faster than he could. By the time the old security guard felt the noose around his neck, it had been tightened just enough to lift him high in the air, choking the last years of life completely from his body.

Another black-clad figure crept up behind the woman, looking up at the space where the dead security guard was suspended from a hangman's noose. "Nice work, Betsey," the red-haired woman complimented her partner. "Now c'mon. We have work to do."

The dark-haired woman turned to face her partner. Then, smiling, the two raced away from the area, leaving no evidence of their presence except for the scattered pages of the Chronicle that were now strewn across the floor beneath its owner's swinging body.

The library was usually his favorite place to rest after an assignment. While he loved interacting with, observing, and most of all helping those who needed him, sometimes it just felt good to step back and watch things from above-see "the big picture", as she would call it. Each volume in these peace-filled halls held the either the thrill of history or the tempting lure of prophecy, depending on one's frame of mind and frame of time. And there were definitely moments when it was easier to see time reflected in the printed page than to see it on the human face.

This, however, was not one of those moments. He raced the halls in a near-panicked state, desperate to reassure himself that the rumors weren't true. That the sympathy the others were trying to feel for him was misplaced.

That she wasn't going to die. Not yet.

Finally, he found it. The well-worn book that had become his treasure. The one he came back to over and over again to find comfort in its pages, joy in its words, and love in its characters. Love that flowed back to him even as he knew his soul was being poured into the women whose stories were told here.

_Let's see,_ he thought, _it's got to be in here somewhere...ah ha! Here it is!_ Quickly scanning through the pages, he came to the section he was looking for. Stunned, he slumped down to the floor-the look on his face quickly changing from anticipation to terror, then to sorrow, and finally to anger. A single thought raced through his mind-whoever this black coven was, they were not going to win. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Two watched him storm out of the library in a rage, leaving the pages of the book flying in his wake. Adrianna frowned in confusion. "Is that him? The one who fell in love?"

"Yes," replied Cassius. "I wonder what that was about..."

The rustling pages at her feet distracted Adrianna's attention. As she picked up the book, she then turned and asked her companion, "Let us find out, shall we?"

Cassius nodded his head in agreement.

Turning the pages, she soon found the last page that he had been reading. Her eyes shone with pity, as did those of her companion's.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Adrianna was the first to respond, sighing loudly. "I suppose we should tell the rest of the council about this..."

"I suppose so," Cassius agreed. "But..."

Adrianna turned to look up at her companion. "What is it?"

"Do you think we have to tell them right away?"

Adrianna remembered the look on his face as he left. The rest of the council could wait a lifetime, as far as she was concerned. Looking up Cassius' face, Adrianna's eyes sparkled with mischief as she smiled. "Care to share a long meal, old friend?"

Inspector Andy Trudeau pushed past the photographers and other assorted "members of the press" with a disgruntled snort. _How in the world,_ he thought, _do these vultures find out about these things faster than we do?

Focusing on getting to the crime scene, Andy pushed past the roaring cacophony of voices and flashbulbs until he reached the steps of the museum, where the noise level dropped as the press was forced to keep its distance behind barricades. Taking the steps two at a time, Andy soon reached his partner, who was waiting for him at the top of the stairs-and looking none too happy. "You're late. Again."

Andy barreled past his partner, the disdain clearly readable on his face. "I don't have time for this, Morris."

Morris' eyes widened in angry surprise. He quickened his pace to catch up to his partner. "Oh really?" he shouted, "Then what do you have time for, Trudeau? Is Prue Halliwell the only case you give two cents about anymore?"

Turning around, Andy stopped, waiting for his partner to catch up. The expressions on each man's face made it easy for other people to keep their distance. When Andy finally spoke, his voice was low and barely controlled. "What I do with my spare time is no concern of yours."

"It is when it affects my job, Andy," replied Morris. "And you ending up in jail on stalking charges will most definitely affect my job." Morris lowered his voice when he realized that half of the forensics team was staring at them. "Look, you're completely obsessed with her. Everyone can see it. Can I help it if I'm worried about you?"

The sincerity in Morris' eyes spoke volumes, and Andy relaxed. "I'm sorry," he replied, sighing deeply. "You know, part of me would be happy to just get her out of my life. And yet, ever since we broke up-"

"There have been far too many coincidences where she or one of her sisters was involved in one of our cases," Morris recited.

Andy nodded, ignoring the placating tone in his partner's voice. "Aren't you the least bit curious as to why those three always seem to be hanging around?"

"I don't know," replied Morris, now exasperated, "Maybe they've just become true crime junkies or something! Maybe Prue's still in love with you! It doesn't give you the right to document Prue's every move, you know."

Andy nodded his head in agreement even as he turned away from his partner. "Yeah, I know."

Morris sighed when he recognized the despondent look on his partner's face, and swore once again that if he ever got in a room alone with Prue Halliwell...well, let's just say he knew that he wouldn't be the gentlemen his partner would be. What had she done to work her way into his partner's life so quickly and so completely that he couldn't find his way back out again?

After a few painful moments of silence, Andy switched his focus back to the case at hand. "So what have we got?"

Switching gears in tandem with his partner, Morris brought out his notebook just as Andy looked up toward the ceiling. "The victim is Joe Patriani, age 72. He worked as the night watchman for the museum. The killer had the noose prepared in advance. They distracted our Mr. Patriani long enough to slip it around the man's neck, and let him fly."

"I'll say," replied Andy, whistling. The coroner hadn't yet figured out a way to get the victim down, so Andy was able to watch with morbid fascination while the late Mr. Patriani continued to swing from the rafters. "Has anything been taken from the museum?"

"Funny you should mention that." Morris led Andy down the dark corridor to an exhibit hall, where a second forensics team was taking pictures. The banners decorating the entryway to the exhibit read "Witchcraft and Paganism through the Ages".

The inside of the exhibit had been ransacked. "It's going to take them weeks to assess the full extent of the damage, but the curator estimates that up to a quarter of the collection was taken," explained Morris.

While Morris continued to run down the apparent path the robbers had taken in their onslaught of the exhibit, Andy scanned the area, looking for anything suspicious. A flash of white at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning, he crossed the room to discover what it was that had been so carefully placed in the midst of all the chaos.

Morris had to work quickly to keep up with his focused partner. "Andy? What is it?"

Finally stopping at one of the demolished exhibits, Andy quickly put on some evidence gloves and bent down to pick up the envelope. "Unmarked," he muttered, "But the back's open." Feeling the paper, Andy soon realized that there was at least one piece of paper in the envelope, plus something else.

Turning the envelope over, Andy opened the flap and carefully removed its contents. The 'something else' turned out to be a small metal tag showing what seemed to be three concentric circles with the non-interlocking pieces cut away. The paper, though, was what soon fascinated both men. Morris peered over his partner's shoulder and read the message aloud: "Long live the charmed ones...death to the three? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"I wish I knew," replied Andy. "I really wish I knew."

"Prue! Phoebe! Breakfast is ready!"

While the oldest and youngest of the Halliwell sisters slowly made their way downstairs, Piper pulled out the box of cat food, planning to refill their pet's bowl. She frowned, though, when she saw both the food and water dishes not only full, but also virtually untouched.

Phoebe came up behind Piper and peered over her older sister's shoulder. "Kit's not eating her food?"

"No," replied Piper, confused. "And I haven't seen her since early yesterday. You don't think something's happened to her, do you?"

Phoebe shrugged, "I hope not. I'm sure she'll turn up, though." Walking through the kitchen to the coffee machine, Phoebe then asked her two sisters, "So what's the plan for today?"

"I don't know," mused Piper, "I don't have any plans. Maybe I should start looking for the cat..." The phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. Since she was closest to the phone, she picked it up. "Hello? Yes, this is Piper...you're kidding? All right, I'll be right there..."

Phoebe and Prue watched their sister with concern, and it wasn't long before that concern was rewarded. Unfortunately, it was with their coats. "The lunch hostess just called. Quake was broken into overnight."

Now sharing their sister's anxiety over what might have happened, Prue and Phoebe followed Piper out the door.

"Do you have to go?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"When the council finds out about this..."

"I'll take my chances if and when that happens." He sighed, "I can't let her die. Not when I might be able to stop it."

"I know, my friend. I know."

The three women couldn't believe what they saw when they arrived at the restaurant. The few members of the staff that had arrived were busy righting overturned tables and sweeping up dirt from the potted plants that had been ripped from their bases. The walls had been stripped of every piece of artwork that the restaurant owned; the few statues were either smashed or stolen, depending on their value.

"My God," whispered Piper, "Who would do something like this?"

Unable to answer her sister's question, Prue steadied the closest table, which seemed to be balancing precariously on one broken leg. When the shaking stopped, a shiny piece of metal caught her eye. Bending down to pick up the trinket, Prue nearly gasped at what she saw.

Phoebe was soon standing over her sister's shoulder. It didn't take long for her to recognize the piece of metal that Prue held in her hands. "That's Kit's tag, isn't it?"

"I think so," Prue nodded, "But I can't be 100% sure."

"What do you think it means?"

Closing her hand over the tag, Prue looked up and scanned the area, as if she was hoping for some other clue to connect the tag to the robbery. "I wish I knew, Phoebe. I really wish I knew."

"Can I see it?"

Shrugging, Prue handed the tag to her sister. She quickly grew concerned, though, when dropping the tag into Phoebe's hands caused Phoebe to jump-a sure sign that the younger witch was 'receiving' a vision. "Phoebe? What are you seeing?"

"Women," replied Phoebe, "Dressed all in black. They're standing around a bonfire, chanting something."

"What are they chanting?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I can't make it out. Lot of laughing, though. I can see inside the fire though, and there's...AAAAAAH!"

Immediately Prue was at Phoebe's side. Reaching out with a concerned hand, she asked, "What is it, Phoebe?"

In between gasps for air, Phoebe looked up at her sister-clearly terrified. "It was somebody's head. I couldn't make out who it was-it had been in the fire too long, but still..."

Prue pulled Phoebe into a comforting embrace, allowing Phoebe to finally break down and cry. Once Phoebe had composed herself, it was only then that Prue insisted, "Now c'mon. We gotta go tell Piper about this."

The two sisters got up and headed to the other side of the restaurant, unaware of the man who had just walked into the restaurant a few moments earlier-and had heard every word that passed between the two women.

Andy was completely blown away by the scene he had just witnessed. _Phoebe's psychic? I thought Prue was the only one...well at least that explains where they get their information..._

Looking around, Andy realized that the three women, knowing what he now knew, couldn't see him there. Turning around, the inspector nearly ran over a uniform that was walking into the building. Composing himself, Andy ordered the officer, "I've seen everything I need to see here. Take statements from the witnesses and get them to me when you get back to the station, all right?"

"Sure, Inspector," stammered out the bewildered younger man, "No problem."

Satisfied that 'police procedures' would now be fully met, Andy raced back to his car, praying all the way that the Halliwell sisters had not seen him there.

Three hours later, Quake seemed well on its way to recovery. Piper, however, was not. "I don't believe this," she groaned, holding her head in her hands. "Martin is going to kill me. We had to close for lunch, and we're barely prepared to handle happy hour and the dinner rush, which start in, oh, an hour. He's definitely going to kill me..."

Frustrated at seeing Piper in this level of hysterics, Prue grabbed her sister's hand and sat her back down. "Piper, it'll be fine," she soothed. "It's not like this robbery is your fault."

"It isn't?" Piper replied. "Try telling that to the police. How many of those tags do you think are floating around San Francisco? And three guesses as to who the inspector is that's assigned to investigate the robbery."

Prue didn't have to guess. "It's Andy, I know."

Piper looked over at her sister, bewildered. "How did you...?"

"I asked the officer too," Prue replied with a sigh. "So this means we have to assume that we're going to be considered his prime suspects."

"Why?" asked Phoebe.

Prue turned to her younger sister and explained, "Buckland. Since he never found Rex and Hannah, it's a good bet that Andy never quite ruled me out for that one. And you've seen what he's been like lately."

Phoebe nodded. The past few weeks, it seemed like Andy had been lurking around every corner. For once, Phoebe had been grateful to have the less 'visible' power-it meant that she didn't have to worry about controlling her actions the way Prue and Piper did.

Prue continued, "And once he sees the symbol on that tag, we have to assume that the first connection he's going to make will be to us."

"But you think someone's trying to set us up for the robberies," Phoebe concluded.

Prue nodded in agreement. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Phoebe then asked both her sisters, "So where do we go from here?"

"Well," replied Prue, "We should probably find out who sells these tags, see if you recognize any of the store owners as having been in your vision."

Piper agreed. "And then try to figure out which of them is setting us up and why."

As she ran her finger around the edge of her drink, Phoebe almost smiled. "Just another day at the office for the charmed ones..."

Small chuckles emerged from the three women at the table until the ring of Prue's cell phone cut them off. Prue answered it, "Yes?" The color quickly drained from her face, though, as she fully understood what the person on the other end of the line was telling her. "All right, Grace, I'll be right there."

"What is it?" asked Piper as Prue disconnected the call. The worried edge to Prue's voice made it impossible for Piper and Phoebe not to take notice.

"Buckland's inventory has been stolen," replied Prue.

Phoebe's eyes widened. "In broad daylight? You're sure?"

Prue nodded in reply then turned to her other sister. "Can you come with us?"

"Sorry," Piper shook her head. "I have to stay here and supervise the clean up. I'll catch up with you later?"

Prue and Phoebe both nodded, then each embraced their sister before they headed out the door.