It's kind of crazy how nervous I am posting this; maybe even more nervous than I was when I posted my first fan fic. This is my first Charmed fic, mostly because I didn't want to butcher the characters that I've come to love so much, so if the characterizations are off, feel free to be vicious (preferably in a constructive way). A thousand thank yous in advance to all readers. Hope you enjoy!

Spoilers: Set sometime in the recent future after the series finale, "Forever Charmed," though there was no specific time frame in mind when I was writing this.
Disclaimer: Charmed is the property of Spelling Television and all the wonderful people who made the magic possible. I'm just a fan trying to keep the memory alive.

AN: Life after the Ultimate Battle is supposed to be demon-free, I know, but my take on it is that demons are, (a) stupid and naive (not to say that this extends to all demons, but enough of them), and (b) power-hungry and hell-bent on trying to stomp out forces of good. That said, I would guess that the demon-free days have their exceptions.

Coop

Phoebe Halliwell was glum. There was little that could put her in low spirits these days, but she was most definitely down and even a little self-hating. They had vanquished a demon and lost an Innocent. A win, to be sure, but not the win-win they had been aiming for.

The Innocent had been young and lively—a spirited romantic with her whole life ahead of her. Twins at home and another baby on the way. A tease of a husband. Her family had waited for her at home, gleeful and ready to surprise her. They had been the ones surprised. Mother and child were dead with barely a body left to bury. Piper and Paige had agreed that the three of them had done the best they could; after all, the demon was no longer a threat. But they had looked haunted too. Piper had been especially eager to return to the Manor. To Wyatt and Chris and little kid chatter.

For Phoebe there was only the quiet of the condo, quiet that was making her restless. Her sisters had been reluctant to let her return home alone but she had brushed off their concern and assured them she was fine. Dubious and worried, they had refused to let her go until they had wrangled a promise to rest out of her.

She considered running a hot bath or curling up on the couch with a tub of ice cream, but her thoughts soon drifted to other matters, to love and a particular Cupid.

She thought of his broad chest and strong arms, of his sweet face and oh so kissable lips. She saw him vividly in her mind's eyes, the image so real that she almost lifted a hand to caress his non-present cheek. Most of all, she saw those piercing, dark eyes and they way they looked at her, unafraid of their owner's feelings for her, unafraid to let her see the depth of those feelings.

He never asked about her past loves, not because he didn't care—he certainly must have been curious about the little of it he had seen—but because he didn't need to. So what if she had loved not one, but two demons? So what if her longest relationship had been with one? He didn't judge her, he understood her and loved her more for daring to love those condemned by her legacy. It made her smile to think that he probably would have gone as far as to root for her and those doomed to fail relationships.

She thought of how much he had given her in so little time, how a moment in his arms felt like a lifetime in his company. He was a Cupid and he knew love, and though he wasn't perfect, he was damn close for someone who had never found love for himself before. She loved that he didn't mind being not perfect even if she was fairly certain that it was a state of mind he reserved only for her and their love. She still remembered him standing over her office desk, telling her, "I've never missed." Of course Michael had been a miss and maybe there had been nothing wrong with him, but it had been unfair to expect him to compete with a Cupid who knew her so deeply and who knew just how close her greatest desire had been—and still was—to her heart.

She laced her fingers together and rested them protectively on her belly, thinking of the child growing inside of her. Their child. And despite her mood, she smiled. He had swung her around in a great, whirling hug when she had told him she was pregnant. His joy had been for her and for them, for the little girl they were going to have. Piper had teased her and said that she and Leo had thought Wyatt was a girl too, but Phoebe was sure it would be a girl. Playing along with Piper, Coop had promised that he would love the child whether it turned out to be a girl or boy, but she knew he was anticipating a girl too. One day, when she had been somewhat cross with him, he had whispered that their daughter would be as beautiful as her mother and Phoebe, brightening immediately, had replied that she would have a heart as big and full of love as her father's. She would be special, as her father was. As her parents' love was.

And it was true that she had never met anyone quite like him, nor had she ever loved anyone the way she loved him. He never doubted their love, which, on some days, was equal parts infuriating and equal parts reassuring. But it was this same unerring faith that gave her the courage to embrace her love for him and to open herself to him completely, to let him really see every nook and cranny.

They were, as future Wyatt and Chris put it, one.

She hadn't known that love like that could exist. In the eight years that she had fought for the greater good, she had forgotten that she used to believe that love like that did exist. But just as demons and magic had become a reality for her, the magic of love had become a reality once more. She believed in it all over again every time she looked in his eyes and saw the intensity of his feelings, saw what he and other Cupids tried to show their charges. She never forgot that she had to share him with the rest of the world, but she never felt alone and she took comfort in the knowledge that he was never too far. Indeed, it only took one word to bring him closer, one word to bridge any physical distance between them.

Coop.

His name was a bare whisper across her mind, a fading echo touching the edges of her consciousness, but it was enough. The rush of images in her mind stilled, waiting, letting the murmur of emotions go unchecked.

The bright, unwavering heart came first and swelled into a soft, pink glow that sent shivers of warmth shooting over her skin. The glow solidified into arms, legs, a body. Coop.

He had his hands raised in mid-gesture and he seemed about to make a point, but when he realized what had happened, he twisted around. "Phoebe!"

"Hi." She smiled sheepishly. "Bad time?"

His eyes probed hers gently, searching, asking. "Bad day?"

Needlessly she asked, "How did you know?"

"Same way I always do." He held his arms out to her and she stepped into them.

Burrowing her face into his chest, she breathed deeply and took him in. The clean, simple scent. The pulsing warmth. The very real rhythm of his beating heart. His closeness. She closed her eyes and sighed. "We lost an Innocent today."

"Shhh." He cradled her tenderly and ran his fingers through her hair. "It's okay." He held her and didn't ask her to relive the too fresh memories. Later he would, but now was a moment to just be there and understand. Now was a moment to stand there in their own eternity and wait.

And if they did nothing else but stand there for the next few hours, for the evening, that was okay too.