"Happy birthday dear Piper! Happy birthday to you!"

As the traditional song came to a jovial close, forty-three year old Piper Halliwell gently blew out the flickering candles on the frosted cake. She had spent weeks earnestly requesting no gifts, no cake, and no party but her appeals had gone unheard. And though it annoyed her she could not complain. She had loving sisters, a perfect husband, and three healthy children. As they stood around the table, beaming and laughing, she could not help but think that life was supposed to be like this. Life was finally fair. And for once all the fighting had been worthwhile.

"Hey, cut me a big piece," Paige Matthews-Mitchell requested with a grin. The expecting mother glowed in the warm June day, her luscious chocolate locks falling onto slender shoulders. Her adoring husband was nearby, busy wrestling with his two nephews, multiple nieces, and twin daughters. Henry was the ideal father with a childish sense of humor but a protective nature that the only man of the house could bring. He was more thrilled than anyone about the new baby; even if Paige's pregnancy hadn't been planned.

"Girls, inside voices," warned a familiar voice.

"Uncle Henry started it," whined the five year old with a giggle.

Phoebe Halliwell rolled her eyes at her youngest though she was unsure if in actuality she should be scolding her brother in law.

"Let them have a little fun," Piper told her sister with a nudge. Phoebe looked down at her and grinned. Before words could be exchanged, the familiar ring of the telephone interrupted.

"I've got it!" Paige announced quickly. She swiftly departed from the dining room and entered the kitchen. The phone never stopped ringing, for she never had the chance to answer as her steps came to a halt.

In the other room as cake was passed around and laughs heard loud, her voice suddenly echoed. "Guys!" she shouted. "I think my water just broke!"

"Excuse me, sir? Excuse me?"

The voice echoed distantly in his head as he struggled to peel open heavy eyelids. "What . . ." he mumbled groggily.

"We're preparing for landing sir."

As his dark brown eyes stretched to their full extent, he gave a brief nod. The stewardess briskly continued down the aisle, leaving him to pull his seat forward and fasten his seatbelt. He wished she had just let him sleep. He hated flying. More than anything he hated the landing.

Through the small oval window he could see a familiar city below, sparkling from the pastel light of a proverbial sun. Thin clouds touched the powder sky and as he gazed down Jack could almost taste the cerulean water below.

He swallowed down hard finding the pit of his stomach hardened over. He couldn't find it in himself to be happy that he had finally come home. Too many memories filled his head, blinding him from the sight of possible happiness.

As the plane touched down, his hands tightened around the chair, his knuckles turning white from squeezing so hard. A few passengers clapped for a successful landing as the pilot cackled into the intercom.

"Welcome to San Francisco . . ."