Feedback can be sent to me at: MetsAreMyLife@aol.com and please be nice, this is my
first Phoebe/Cole fic.
Authors note: ______ indicates a scene change.
He stood in the mausoleum, angry and hurt. "Why!?"
he shouted to the silent unresponsive walls, as he had done so many times in
the hours since Phoebe had seen him kill the witch and sent him away. He turned
quickly and smashed his fists into the wall nearest him a number of times.
"Why?" he asked again, quietly, this time, whispering
the question to himself, his energy and anger spent. He looked down sadly, and
was surprised to see the blood covering his knuckles and the sides of his
hands. In the back of his mind it occurred to him that it should hurt, but the
grief he was feeling from Phoebe's rejection was so intense that it completely
masked any physical pain he might have had. He never imagined that an emotion
could hurt so badly and be so much more painful than any physical injury. He
had suffered many serious wounds, from knives, pistols, energy bolts and other
supernatural weapons and had nearly died several times, but nothing came close
to this.
He looked up again at the wall and saw tiny white
cracks lacing the areas he had hit, like spider webs. That was his demonic
strength for you, his other half coming through even though he was in human
form. Just another perfect example of why Phoebe had lost faith in him, had
sent him away. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be good enough; the
demon in him would always be hiding there, underneath.
'DAMN THEM' he thought, 'Damn everyone who has caused
me this pain. Damn the Source, Damn the Brotherhood, Damn Phoebe- wait- no- I
don't damn Phoebe, I love her. No matter how much pain she causes me, I still
love her. I always will.' He needed to get out of there, so he shimmered to his
old apartment, a place that had always reminded him of the happiest days of his
life. There, he sank to his old bed, and sitting there, facing the wall, he
began to cry.
________________________________________________________________
Phoebe sat on her bed with her legs pulled up to her
chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. She rested her chin upon her
knees, even though what she was doing was anything but resting. Thoughts
swirled around her brain, nearly all of them focusing on Cole and how she would
give almost anything to be with him again, but that could never happen, not
now, not after what he had done and what she had done to him.
She had been thinking about him non-stop ever since
the incident. She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to curse his name and
scream and shout about him and how terrible he was. She wanted to point the
finger at him because that would be so much less painful than what she was
feeling now. She wanted to blame him, but couldn't because all she could think
of was the look on his face before he succumbed to the unbearable pressures
Raynor was putting on him.
She remembered it so clearly, their final moments
together. She could see the anguish plainly written across his features, the
pain and sorrow in his voice as he screamed, his soul being pulled in a
thousand different directions by two opposing forces. He had fought so hard,
for so long against an opponent so much stronger than him, that in the end he
could take no more. He could no longer think rationally, and instinct told him
to stop his suffering. So he took the easy way out, he gave in and ended the
torment.
But she took the easy way out too, instead of
continuing to fight with him against the forces conspiring to separate them,
she gave up, she quit on him. She remembered the look on his face before he
shimmered out, after she destroyed the potion, the sorrow and pain she caused
him cut like a knife to her heart. Even if for some reason they met again, they
was no way he would ever take her back. She had betrayed him; she had forsaken
him and their love. She looked up from the trance-like state she had been in
and realized that she had started crying sometime while thinking of him. She
suddenly needed to be near him, though she knew he was probably not even on
this plane. She decided on the next best thing, the apartment he had lived in
when they first met.
________________________________________________________________
She walked into his old apartment, feeling lonely and
sad and was immediately bombarded by a thousand different memories. Passionate
kisses, soulful embraces, heartfelt words of love. She felt that she would do
anything for the chance to hold him just one more time, to feel his body meld
with hers as they kissed. She continued walking through the small apartment and
stopped when she reached the bedroom. She could hardly believe what she saw.
"Cole?" she murmured softly, almost to herself.
He turned his head when he heard his name, not really
believing that it was anything other than his imagination speaking, but needing
to see nonetheless. When he saw it was her, his eyes widened in shock.
"Phoebe!" he exclaimed softly.
"Cole- I-" she didn't know what to say, she hadn't
been expecting this, as much as she wanted to be with him again he had
given in to the evil lurking inside of him, he had killed a witch. He looked
like hell though, and she couldn't help but feel worse, knowing she had caused
his pain. He got up and turned around fully, and she couldn't believe what she
saw.
"Oh my god, Cole. Your hands, what happened?" she
said fearfully, taking a few steps towards him.
He looked down, saw the blood she was talking about
liberally coating his hands and dismissed it.
"It's nothing." He replied. "I was at the mausoleum,
angry, hurt. I- I took it out on the walls."
She stared at him in disbelief, then grabbed his
wrist and led him to the sink. There she took his hands and gently washed the
blood off. He closed his eyes and by doing so could almost believe that he was
in another place, another time. A time when she was caressing his hands, not
cleaning off blood.
Phoebe looked down at his hands, the blood was gone
now and she could see that the backs of his knuckles and the sides of his fists
were torn up pretty badly, but at least they were clean. She knew she should
let go, but for some reason couldn't make herself, instead she found herself
raising one of them to her lips and softly kissing it.
He looked at her sharply. What was she doing? Didn't
she realize how difficult this was for him? She let go of his hand as if
suddenly remembering all that had transpired, but he found that he couldn't let
it end there. He reached over and gently touched one flawless cheek. She could
feel his fingers trembling ever so slightly against her and lost control. She
fell against him hard, sobbing violently. She buried her head in his chest and
clutched at his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, sealing himself
to her. He set his face in her hair and began crying too.
"I love you." He said fiercely through the sobs and
it only served to make her cry harder. She started to try and explain her
actions through her tears.
"I- I was wrong. I know that now. I was scared and afraid
and didn't know what to do. I didn't want to leave you the opportunity to hurt
me, so I ended up hurting myself. You were under more pressures than anyone
could bear without snapping, I know this now.
If a person takes a hundred steps forward and one step backwards, you
don't throw him to the wolves, you try and help him get over the backwards step
and move forwards again. I'm sorry- I'm so sorry for what I did to you. Can you
forgive me?"
"Yes." Three simple letters, one simple word and yet
in that moment they meant everything to her.
She looked up from his chest and stared into his eyes
as he looked down at hers, she smiled, and then they kissed as they had never
kissed before.
