The casket was lowered slowly into the ground, causing Phoebe to want to jump in after it. How long had it been since she had seen his face? Days? Hours? It didn't matter. He was gone and that was all that needed to be said.
Piper stuck close by her side, clinging to her arm as though she were the one who needed holding up, and not her sister. She leaned her head onto Phoebe's shoulder, whispering in her ear. "You're gonna be okay, I promise. We'll help you get through this. All of us will be there for you."
Phoebe shrugged her sister away. How could she get through this? The love of her life was gone, killed by a bounty hunter even after he had been stripped of his powers. She remembered his face as he attempted vainly to throw an energy ball at the grinning demon, but the flames consumed his before he had even a chance to run. She remembered the last thing he said, how he had choked out his last breath in her arms.
"I only wanted to marry you. That's all I ever wanted…"
She had cried for hours, holding his body in her arms. No one had dared go near her, for fear of being screamed at. Both her sisters had left her alone, watching silently from the battered living room. The overturned couch was in ruins, springs poking out at all angles, and the grandfather clock in the corner lay shattered once again, but nothing felt more broken than their hearts. Each sister grieved for the fallen man, whose lips had long since turned blue, and his skin gone cold. It hurt to watch Phoebe rock him, knowing that there was nothing that any of them could do to ease her suffering. Piper buried her face in Leo's chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for not being there in time to save his friend.
The middle sister sat rigidly on the metal folding chair that was set up next to the giant hole in the earth. The rain spattered her shoulders, soaking her hair and ruining her silk gown, but still she remained motionless, too numb to care.
He only wanted to marry me. That's all he ever wanted… she ran the words over in her mind, slipping them over her tongue like melting butter. The pain was too much for her to abide, and she let her back go limp as she slid onto the muddy ground next to the hole. She glanced at the mahogany coffin and wept, throwing her single white rose at her lover's deathbed. She got up and ran, tripping over her high-heeled shoes on the damp ground. The mausoleum wasn't far away, just down the cemetery road and around the corner. She forced the door open and stumbled into the warmth of Cole's secret hideaway. She remembered the time she had spent with him there, the fighting, the kissing, the lovemaking. It had all happened in the mausoleum, everything that they had ever wanted in each other. It was their second home, their safehaven. And yet that day it felt exactly like what it was: a tomb. A choking, empty, place of cessation for lost souls. Cole's soul. Would his soul be lost, or could it come rest in her heart, where he stayed for nearly two years? She pressed her back against the cold stone wall and slid helplessly to the floor. She wasn't ready to let him go, but there was no way to hold onto him.
"Phoebe, honey? Are you here?" Piper's voice floated down the stairs, causing Phoebe's sobs to catch in her throat.
Please, don't find me like this, she thought. I don't want you to see me like this. It's too soon for me to break down. Not now, please. Phoebe could feel her sister linger at the doorway for a few moments, then the air around her relaxed as Piper left, and again she was alone. It hurt to think, it hurt breath, but it hurt more not to. She couldn't just stop thinking. If she did, how could she remember Cole? How could she imagine his face next to hers each morning, his scratchy stubble brushing her cheek as he leaned over to kiss her eyes. How could she imagine his voice, whispering in her ear. "Morning, sleepy head. I had a dream about you…" She heard it carried on a wind, breezing past her in a smooth wave, just out of reach. Was this all she had to remember him by? Memories of morning conversations that would fade over the years? She had nothing, nothing that would last forever. No pictures, no videos. It was all a memory.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Phoebe woke up hours later, her damp dress clinging to her thin form. A cool night breeze drifted down the stairwell, and she shivered against it. She sat up, her shoulders slumped, and wiped the dirt from her arms. She stretched out the crick in her neck and the stiffness in her back before slowly getting to her feet. It must be getting late, I'd better get back soon. Cole might start to worry… her thoughts trailed off and she lowered her eyelids. Cole won't worry. He can't. He's dead. Another wave of self-pity swept over her and she buried her face in her hands. Groping along the wall, she pulled herself out of the tomb, and sloshed through the cemetery to the mound of freshly laid dirt. Most of it had collapsed in the rain, making several large puddles of thick mud around the headstone.
Cole Turner
Beloved Lover, Brother, and Friend
1973-2002
He fought Evil with the Goodness in his Heart
Blessed Be
She collapsed into the headstone, wrapping her arms around it as though it were a long lost teddy bear from a forgotten childhood. Weeping into the cool cement felt strangely unsettling, yet it was the only thing that she felt capable of doing right at the moment. The wind howled around her, whipping her long hair from the tight knot that she had put it in for the funeral. It fell about her shoulders, and she could almost feel Cole reaching from beyond his grave to run his slender fingers through it one last time.
Let me go…
The phrase echoed through her mind, as she saw a child gripped a woman's hand. He cried out and pulled away from her, running through a field of thick clover and tall grass. The woman followed, but only for a few steps before turning. Just as Phoebe was about to see her face, the vision faded and she was left alone again in the cemetery, surrounded by thousands of stories waiting to be told.
Unsure of how to proceed with this new premonition, she pulled herself to her feet and rested her hand gently on the cold stone. A final crept heartlessly down her cheek as she set off to the main road to find a cab and a warm place to have breakfast without being under the watchful eye of her sisters. Once she had made her way into a small diner a few blocks away from the manor, she trudged into the dingy bathroom to wash the dirt from her face. She gazed at herself in the mirror, surprised at how sickly she looked. The dark circles under her eyes contrasted sharply with her pale cheeks, and the red rims around her deep brown eyes made her seem more of a monster than a witch. She splashed a handful of cold water on her face, letting the grime from a night on the floor of a tomb drip down her jaw and into the sink. She wiped her face with a stiff paper towel from the rack and threw it into the trash without looking away from the mirror. She could see something in her own eyes, something like a premonition that was longing to come out but never had the right opportunity. Knowing exactly what the premonition was trying to tell her, she sighed and went back out into the dining area, where she sat down on a stool at the counter near the door. The old woman who ran the kitchen came up to her, a pen and paper in hand.
"What's yer pleasure, missy?" she asked politely, her Irish drawl coming through, though Phoebe could tell she tried to hide it.
"I'll just have a black coffee and some scrambled eggs, if it's not too much trouble," she replied with her nose buried in a worn plastic menu. The woman watched her for a moment before nodding and taking the order back to the kitchen.
Returning a moment later with the coffee, the gray-haired woman sat down on a chair on the other side of the counter. "What's with the long face? You look like someone just died."
Phoebe laughed half-heartedly into her coffee cup, shaking her head while she tried to keep from trembling. "Yeah, that's about right."
"Oh, bless yer heart, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that ya had lost someone. Jasus, Mary and Joseph, me an' me big mouth sometimes." The woman patted Phoebe's hand softly, handing her a napkin to blow her nose in. She thanked her under her breath and wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek.
"It's ok, you couldn't've known. I just came in here to avoid my family, you know? They keep asking how I'm holding up, how I'm doing, and I just want to scream at them to leave me alone. Do you know what I mean?" Phoebe took a sip of the dark liquid in her cup and nearly choked as she had to keep from spitting the fowl substance into the kind woman's face.
"Ay, I do, missy. 'Twas goin' on ten years past that me 'usband Patrick died 'o cancer. A hard battle fought, it were. He was a good man, that one. Always made the best meat pies." She smiled as Phoebe cracked her first genuine grin of the night. "So how long had you two been married?"
"Oh, we weren't married. Just engaged. Cole and I… we had to wait for the right time to get married. The timing was always off." Phoebe rubbed the ring on her finger with tender affection, then took it off for the woman to see more closely. "He gave that to me after my sister gave it to him. It's a family heirloom; my grandmother was married with it six times."
"Six times! Jasus, that's a lot 'o 'usbands! Me an' Patrick were the only ones fer each other. We always said that we'd grow old together and watch the wee 'uns run along in our fields. Never got a chance to have children though, 's too bad. Imagine he woulda been a right fine pater."
Phoebe arched her eyebrows. "Pater?"
"Father, child. Father. The man had a way with the little 'uns, he did." The woman reached behind her as a bell rang sharply, signaling that Phoebe's eggs were ready. She pulled the plate from the man in an apron and handed the fresh eggs to Phoebe.
She sighed and pushed them around her plate. "Cole would've been a great father. It's just a shame he didn't live long enough to see his children."
"Ay, 'tis a shame to lose someone before y've 'ad the chance to make little someones."
Phoebe gave up and let her fork fall into the mushy pile of yellow goo. "No, I mean that it's a shame that he'll never have chance to know his child… I'm pregnant."