This has been sitting in my document manager for a couple of weeks (well, now it's been several months because I wrote this sometime in the summer). It feels unfinished somehow or like something in it is... off. But I don't foresee it getting better. So, I'm posting it. Feedback would be very much loved. Especially if you agree that it's off and have any suggestions. Personally, it feels so bizarre whenever I attempt to write in first person, so that might be it. Or maybe because it's a Charmed fic and has nothing to do with Chris (which is extremely bizarre for me). And this story ignores a certain part of a fourth season episode. You'll figure it out.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Biological

"It's up here somewhere. I know it is," I muttered to myself as I opened another trunk. The cold air of the attic was continually stinging my skin. I tugged on my sweater slightly, hoping for some more warmth. Damn school project. Where do I come from? was the assignment. The idiotic, useless assignment. I know where I come from. I don't need to find a stupid baby book so I can find out how much I weighed as a baby.

There was nothing in this trunk either. I had been through eight trunks and fourteen boxes and found nothing! I lifted myself off floor which was thickly covered in dust, and took in my surroundings again. I checked that one. And that one. And that one. And that one. And practically all of them!

Where was all of the stuff about me? There were some of my baby clothes, a few pictures, and old toys scattered in random boxes and trunks, but nothing much altogether. There were more boxes dedicated to my pain-in-the-ass second cousin, Mitch, than there were to me. And I know my parents love me more than Mitch. He was the biggest pain in the ass in the world. It's not that hard to love me more. The lack of my childhood possessions was disturbing. It was like my things that I found here could have belonged to someone else. Someone who didn't grow up in this house. Someone who didn't play in the backyard everyday after school. Someone who didn't fall down the stairs and break her arm when she was seven. Almost like I wasn't there growing up. Like these things belonged to some neighbor girl, not me. It was like I barely existed.

"Maybe I should just call Glen and call it a night," I sighed in defeat as I started to leave the attic when something caught my eye. A fairly large trunk marked Paige, practically hidden in the corner.

"About time!" I thought to myself. Glen would have to wait. The latch on the trunk unlocked easily. I slowly ran my hand over the baby book that had been placed cautiously on top of the trunk. This was it. Proof. Proof that I did exist and that my parents loved me more than any pain-in-the-ass second cousins. Proof that I really was here.

There was a slip of paper stuck between the inside of the cover and the first page of the book. I carefully pulled it out without opening the book and unfolded the paper.

I froze in shock. The tips of my fingers suddenly became glued to the small piece of paper. It couldn't be right. There was no way it could be true. Because if it was true it would mean that my parents weren't my parents. And they were. They were my parents. Adoption. They would have told me. They would have told me a long time ago if I was adopted, wouldn't they?

But it was sitting right there in front of me. Glaringly obvious. It explained a lot. Like why when I was six and I asked my mom for a little sister, she said it would be impossible. She said she couldn't have babies. Then when I asked her about how she had me, she just brushed me off.

A sister. I could have several sisters. And brothers. And all sorts of other family members. Adopted. I was adopted.

But they gave you up, a cruel voice inside my mind reminded me. They didn't want you. Maybe they did. Maybe they couldn't keep me for some reason. They did want me.

"Paige? What are you doing up here?" my mother's voice called from behind me. Had she been there long?

"Just looking through some stuff," I answered, quickly stuffing the adoption certificate inside my pocket before turning to face my mother. My adoptive mother.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked. I could sense a hint of fear in her voice. She was afraid. She didn't want me to know. I wasn't sure whether to confront her and yell at her or tell her that she was still my mother no matter what. I chose confrontation.

"I did actually," I said coolly as I pulled out the adoption certificate and held it up, wondering why I had even tried to hide it initially.

"Paige…"

"I had a right to know!" I loudly screamed the first thing that came into my head as my voice reverberated off of the walls.

"What's going on up here? Oh…" my adoptive father said as he entered the room looking concerned. His eyes fell on the piece of paper that I was gripping in my hand. I looked down at it again. It was funny almost. How a small piece of paper could cause so much trouble.

"Paige, we were going to tell you. We just wanted to wait until you were ready," my mother pleaded desperately with me. There were tears glistening in her eyes. My father was looking from me to her, looking so unsure. It was almost scary. He always seemed to know what to do. Seeing him look so helpless was terrifying.

"Paige, sweetie," my dad choked out as he took a step towards me. He seemed to be dangerously close to crying.

"You lied to me," I murmured, stepping away from him and crashing into the trunk behind me. There was a sharp pain as my head collided with something solid. I faintly registered my parents' voices calling worriedly for me as my surroundings melted into darkness.

There was a dull ache throbbing in my head. I struggled to open my eyes. They were met with a flooding of white. There was a faint smell of ammonia and medicine in the air. A hospital. I was in a hospital. Had I hit my head that badly?

"Don't worry. Your parents will be back soon," a strangely familiar dark-haired girl in the next bed told me with a slightly raspy voice.

"They're not my parents," I mumbled to the stranger. It was strange, but she was easy to talk to, like I had known her all my life. I had no problem telling her that they weren't my parents.

"Really?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Well, two random strangers have just spent the past six hours at your side."

Six hours? I must've hit my head harder than I thought.

"Where are they now?" I asked, wondering why they decided to leave all of the sudden.

"They went down to get something to eat, I think. They didn't exactly inform me. I just sort of overheard," she explained. That made sense. They weren't likely to tell some random girl where they were going or what they were doing.

"Why are you here?" I asked, observing the girl across from me. She didn't appear to have any injuries like I did. She didn't look like she was very sick either.

"Tonsils," she said pointing to her throat.

"Where are your parents?" I asked. I was half expecting the girl to tell me to shut up, start minding my own business and stop asking so many questions.

"My mom died when I was little, and my dad isn't around much. Or at all," she said with a slight shrug.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, suddenly feeling like my problems weren't quite as bad as hers. At least I had two people around who loved and cared for me, even if they weren't my real parents.

"It's okay. I have Grams and my two sisters. They're not my parents, but they love and care for me a lot. They're all I really need. What about yours?" she asked.

"Mine?"

"Your parents. If the people who weren't in here before weren't your parents, then who…"

"Oh," I said, feeling foolish. I was still thinking about what the girl had said. They weren't my biological parents. I didn't have my biological parents anymore, in the same way this girl didn't have her parents. My adopted parents. They were the ones who loved and cared for me.

"They're my parents," I said as a moment of clarity struck after a few moments of thinking.

"But you said…" she trailed off, looking at me with an extremely confused expression on her face.

"I know. I was wrong," I said mentally smiling at the new perspective this girl had given me. I had my parents and that was enough for me. My biological parents had given me up, and my parents had decided to care for me for the last 13 years. Maybe someday, I'd look for my biological mother and father, but for now, I had my parents and they weren't so bad most of the time.

"Thank you…" I added as an afterthought to the girl when I realized I didn't even know her name.

"Prue," she supplied with a smile as she held out her hand.

"Paige," I said as I accepted her hand, taking comfort in my new friend. I made a quick mental note. If I ever did go looking for my biological family, and I did have any siblings. I'd want a sister like her.