Story Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that appear on Charmed, they all belong to Brad Kern and Constance M Burge et al. Wouldn't it be cool if I did own them though? I mean for one thing, Prue would never have died, and there would be like a Power of Four or something. Anyway, I don't, so that's that.

A/N: Thoughts are in italics. This is set somewhere in Season Five probably, but I've kind of put everyone where I want them. Prue is still dead. Sorry. Piper and Leo are married, Leo is not an elder, and Wyatt is around six months old. Cole is dead; Phoebe is single and has only just got over him. Paige is also single, and all three sisters, Leo and Wyatt live in the manor. Paige is confident as a witch and Piper and Phoebe accept her fully as their sister. Piper owns P3, which is very successful, Phoebe works at the Bay Mirror and Paige works at South Bay Social Services.

Right, now that that's over, on with the story...

--Acceptance--

Chapter One

The 107XS British Airways flight from London Heathrow to San Francisco International finally disembarked, after circling above the airport for over four hours. A young girl, no older than fifteen, climbed out of the cargo hold and dragged a battered blue backpack out behind her. It had the name 'Nicki' written in the top corner in black marker. She left the plane and walked straight past the baggage handlers, pretending to be lost, and out into the streets of San Francisco.

Nicki's shoes dragged along the pavement, they were almost worn through already, but she didn't have another pair, and they were comfortable enough anyway. Her hand drifted to her stomach as it growled at her; she really should find something to eat. Her mind, however, was on a completely different track. She pulled out a worn photograph from the back pocket of her faded jeans and unfolded it. It showed three girls sitting on the steps of an amazing red house.

The photo was cracked with age, but it was still possible to make out the expressions on the girls' faces. The youngest, aged around twelve, looked annoyed and was glaring at the eldest, about sixteen, who was ignoring her completely and smiling sweetly at the camera. The other girl looked shy and peaceful, she was around fourteen, and was sitting between the others as a barrier. It looked like the most natural thing in the world. The family resemblance was definitely there, they were definitely cousins, if not sisters. I wish I could have grown up with family like that. I wish I could have grown up with anyone like that.

She folded the photo and put it back into her pocket. She'd come here to try to find those girls, and she only had one idea of where to start, the house. That house was impressive, a huge manor like that. There couldn't be that many houses like that in the city. She needed to find it, she'd spent her entire childhood imagining walking up that drive, she wanted to know what those flowers smelt like, what the house was like, who these girls were. She'd started by coming to San Francisco, but now she really didn't know what to do. The only way she thought she could find it was through a search engine, a house like that had to be on the internet, on a historical site or something. She figured that she could find it if she looked for long enough, but she'd never used the internet before and so had absolutely no idea where to start.

After fifteen more minutes of walking, Nicki came across the perfect place, an internet café. She pulled the last of her money out of her pocket and counted it out. She only had around twenty dollars left. Deciding that she could wait to eat, she bought an hour's worth of time on a computer and sat down, putting her backpack underneath her chair. Bringing up a search engine, she typed in the phrase 'Victorian manor'. After a few seconds, the search was returned. 147,603,299 hits. This is going to be slightly harder than I first thought.

She shifted in her orange plastic chair and pulled a bottle of water from her bag. After taking a long drink, she looked around and saw a waitress glaring at her. She hastily pushed the bottle back into her bag and turned back to the computer. Time to refine the search a little. She replaced 'Victorian manor' with 'red Victorian manor San Francisco' and hit enter. A few seconds later the page had finished loading. 207 hits. Now that was better.

Forty minutes later, she found what she was looking for. On a major architectural site she found a link to 'a photographic history of San Francisco', and there, halfway through the Victorian section, she'd found the house. She pulled the photo from her pocket again and pushed her plait back behind her shoulders. Her black hair was quite long, it came down to her mid-back, but she still always found it hard to keep under control. The photo and the picture on the website showed the same house, it was the house she'd been looking for. There was even an address, 1329 Prescott Street. A pen. She needed a pen. She turned to the woman next to her.

'Excuse me ma'am, but do you have a pen I could borrow?'

The woman looked at her strangely. 'You from round here?' she asked.

'No. I'm from England, actually,' Nicki replied.

'So what are you doing in San Francisco then?' said the woman, looking at her quizzically.

Nicki smiled. 'I'm not really sure, but at the moment, I'm looking for a pen,' she replied sweetly. The woman smiled back at her and pulled a ballpoint from her bag.

'My lucky pen, that is,' she said, handing it over.

'Thank you.' She turned back to the screen and copied the address down onto her hand. In her last five minutes she pulled up a map of San Francisco and found 1329 Prescott Street.

When the waitress came over and frowned at her again, she closed down all the pages and logged out. Picking up her backpack and giving the woman back her lucky pen she left the café and started walking again. Five minutes later she found a tram station, and was hugely relieved to find it empty. Large groups of people made her nervous. She looked at the grimy map on the wall, and found Prescott Street. The nearest stop to it was on the corner of Gleeson and ninth, and was around an hour from where she was. Just as she was counting her money again, a tram pulled up. She climbed on and walked up to the driver.

'Hello. Does this tram stop at Gleeson and ninth?' she asked, looking at the floor.

'Yes, that's ten dollars fifty,' he replied monotonously. She handed over almost all of her remaining money.

'Could you call me when we reach it?' she asked, hesitantly.

The driver nodded, and she took it as her cue to leave. She took the seat right behind the driver, and sighed as the tram drew away. She couldn't believe she was finally here. Pulling the photo back out of her pocket, she studied it closely, not that she needed to. She knew that photo like the back of her hand, she sun on the windows, the car in the driveway, all the details of the girls' faces. She carefully refolded it and put it back into her pocket. She so hoped that they still lived there, although she knew that it was a remote chance, the photo must have been nearly twenty years old.

Nicki must have fallen asleep, because she jerked awake to the driver yelling 'Gleeson and ninth,' into the back of the tram. She grabbed her backpack and stumbled off, mumbling a 'thank you,' to the driver. When she was on the pavement, she opened her backpack and had another drink of water. She looked at the map on the tram station and at the address on her hand, and tried to orientate herself. After several minutes she set off up the street, fairly confident about where she was going. She held the photo in her hands, almost willing it to guide her there.

After five minutes, she turned into an almost familiar road, Prescott Street. There, at the end, was the house she'd been looking at every day for as long as she could remember. It was the same, but different. There were different flowers in the beds and the brown car in the drive had been replaced by a black one, but it was definitely the same house. Now that she was here, she felt her stomach jump and bile rise in her throat. She swallowed it back and told herself not to be nervous, she was here now. This was the moment she'd been waiting for all her life. She walked up to the house's front door, and stood with her hand by her side, willing it to ring the bell. She summoned up all the strength she could and pushed the bell. Fighting the urge to run away, she waited at the door. I can't do this. Why am I even here? Calm down, it's okay, it's all going to be okay, you only want to talk to them. They probably don't live here anymore anyway. A few seconds later she heard a female's voice coming from inside the house.

'I'm just coming, hang on a second!' the voice said. The door opened to reveal a pretty woman brushing through her wet hair, the owner of the voice. 'Can I help you?'

'Umm, yes, I hope so' Nicki said, shuffling her feet on the doormat. 'Are you P Halliwell?'

'Yes,' she chuckled a little. 'Well, one of them. I'm Phoebe,' Phoebe replied. The girl in the doorway looked about ready to faint. There was something familiar about her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. The girl opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, and then closed it. It looked as if she was plucking up the courage to say something.

Nicki took a deep breath and then spoke. 'Are you my mother?'

--End of Chapter One--

So, what do you think? Review button is right underneath this, by the way. Any criticism is welcome, but please let it be constructive, don't flame!