[A/N:  Hello!  Okay, disclaimer is that I don't own this world or the characters of Piper, Prue, Phoebe, Paige, Leo, Cole, etc etc.. I DID create Emma and her whitelighter Thomas.  They coexist in the same world as the Charmed Ones...  Enjoy and please please please REVIEW!]

Part 1:  Fits of Temper

"Get off my property, SCUM!" Emma grabbed the nearest object and flung it with every bit of strength she could muster.  A loud thwock sounded as the heel of the shoe connected with the dirty rat's elbow.

"OW!  Bloody hell, that hurt!!!" he screeched back, scampering off her lawn with his pants in his hands. 

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed into the quiet night, not caring a whit about what the neighbors would whisper to each other the next morning.  She slammed the door shut and began making her way furiously around the room, gathering up all the little articles of clothing that he'd left behind. 

"Dirty rat bastard!" she muttered under her breath, grabbing his sock and a shoe from underneath the couch. 

"FILTHY!"  A shirt, flung over the top of the television set.

"Can't believe him." She was winding down now, out of breath and plagued by a thundering pulse.  Glaring down at the pile of clothes she'd gathered, she felt one more spurt of rage and kicked them into the fireplace with passion.

"Done yet?" a mild voice inquired from the hallway.  Emma glanced up and exhaled loudly, nodding her head.

"Tol--"

"Wait!" Emma held her hand up, stopping his words as they came.  "Don't say I told you so, Thomas... or I'll... I'll..." she glanced around until her gaze fell on a crystal vase.  With a motion of her hand, she summoned it.  "I'll throw it at you, I swear."

Thomas grinned easily, holding his hands up in surrender.  "Wasn't going to say it," he assured her.  His gentle manner had a calming effect.  Emma sighed, put the crystal vase down, and fell into the sofa - only moments before, the scene of some hot and heavy "action."

"What happened?" she finally asked, leaning her head back on the soft pillow cushions.  Thomas made his way gingerly over the broken bits and pieces of glass - remnants of a shattered picture frame - and sat down beside her, stroking her long tangled black hair.

"Guess he got tired of waiting," Thomas answered gently.  "He must've drugged you up at the club.  I was watching when you guys came back and he didn't do it then."  Emma snuggled into Thomas' strong arms and drew in a shuddering breath.

"Are you positive it was a drug?  Not... not magic, right?  I mean.. if Jake was a demon, I'd be more than glad to vanquish him by all means..." Emma sniffled quietly, bravely trying to hide her hurt feelings.

"No, he wasn't a demon.  Just a... normal, everyday jerk."  Thomas sighed.  "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner but I thought... well, I didn't know what to think, really..."  Emma's lips curved into a tiny smile.

"You were embarrassed, weren't you?  Caught me doing something you didn't want to see?"  she teased him lightly, laughing at the picture of Thomas - trying to avert his eyes.

"Well I didn't know until I saw your eyes.  Then I knew something was wrong..." Thomas stood up and glanced around.  "Looks like you have some cleaning up to do."  Emma looked around and sighed, nodding.  Her fits of temper usually lead up to a good bit of cleaning.

"Until then, I've got to meet with the Elders, ask them about Jericho.  You haven't seen him today?  At all?"  Emma shook her head, pulling her long black hair into a ponytail.  Her green eyes narrowed.

"You're sure Jake wasn't a demon?"

Thomas laughed and orbed away.  

The cleaning didn't take as long as Emma had expected it to.  All that remained was the picture frame that lay on its side by the couch, where Emma had thrown it earlier.  She picked it up and took a deep breath before looking at the picture inside.

It was a year earlier, when she and Jake had first met in Chicago.  There she was, her tan fading and her bright smile making up for the squint of her eyes as she tried to squeeze out the sun.  And there was Jake.  Breathtakingly gorgeous, her first real romance... He'd been taken in by her diversity.  Born in England, travelling all around the world - including Africa and Antarctica - and finally settling down in bustling Chicago.  Always, he'd ask why she had travelled so much, where she'd gotten the money to finance.  Emma sighed, glancing down at her younger, more naïve self.  Athletic form, petite size, gorgeous hair, slightly freckled skin.  Why couldn't he just take her for who she was?!

She threw the picture into the fire along with his clothes.  Without hesitation, she snapped her fingers and the fire crackled into existence.  How could she tell him that she was a witch - albeit a good witch?!  How could she tell him that she and her whitelighter, Thomas, weren't really living together?  That Thomas would orb her in and out of places all over the world to exclude a travelling fee?  And that her parents had been murdered by a man - a mortal... and that her wealth came from their insurance policy...

Well, maybe the last bit was share-able.  But Emma hardened.  No one had to know.  She hated pity above all things.  She couldn't picture herself telling someone about her parents' murders in order to get sympathy and understanding.  It made her angry just thinking about it.

Emma shoved her parents' memories out of her mind. 

Pouring herself a glass of wine, she settled herself before the fire in her favorite chair.  In the past weeks, Jake had pushed her more and more.  She should've seen it coming.  Her skin crawled.  How could he?  HOW COULD HE?  Was the truth so important to him that he'd drug her for it?!  And then, in her vulnerable state... attempt to rape her?!  Disgusted, Emma drained the rest of her wine and summoned the wine bottle to her from the cabinet. 

She couldn't remember anything though.  Just the club - and then, after Thomas had "cleared" her mind by healing it, Jake's face twisted into some grotesque smile as he tore her clothing...  Pouring herself some more wine, Emma pushed that picture from her mind as well.  It was over and Jake wouldn't remember a thing.

If it wasn't for her powers, she'd be in a lot of hell.  If it wasn't for my powers, I wouldn't BE here in the first place, Emma thought ironically.  Her powers manifested in several ways, but they were largely one ability branching out into many.  Ever since she was little, she'd had an overwhelming psychokinetic ability to get into peoples' thoughts.  As she learned more about magic and the wiccan craft, she shaped her power into a useful tool.  At each stage, her magical powers expanded.  First, she could listen to thoughts.  Next, she could manipulate the thoughts of others.  Then, she learned to erase memories, implant memories.  Finally, just a year earlier, she'd managed to create illusions and false realities in the minds of her enemies.  In a small room, she could even manage to become invisible, by creating the illusion of empty space where she stood. 

Of course, she'd have to perfect that.  She had to learn how to create details and believable illusions, for several people all at once, in order for that to be really useful.

Recently, her psychokinetic ability had graduated to enable her to move objects without touching them.  It was her newest power, so Emma used it every chance she got. 

The phone rang, disturbing her thoughts.  Emma considered summoning it to her, but she remembered that there were no cordless phones in this house.  Antique and furnished completely, it had been a bargain because of the rumors of a ghost that cursed the dwellers.  Emma had taken care of that, no problem. 

"Hello, Emma here." 

"Dear Emma.  You've been well, I suppose?"  An articulated voice came over the line, oozing with charm and gentlemanliness.

"Oh, hello Jericho," she answered, her tone flat.  "Why in the world are you calling me?" she demanded.  Demons rarely used phones.

"Thought it'd be best to keep my distance.  Heard you whip up a smashing good Fergie potion, y'know."

Emma rolled her eyes.  Jericho was a slippery one and his friendly, gentlemanly ways were slightly off-putting.  It was best if she kept her cynicism and anger firmly between them.  "If you'd disappear with a simple Fergie potion, I'd be crowned Queen of England tomorrow.  Listen Jericho, I've had a bad day of it myself.  Would you mind telling me what you want, exactly?"

"Just this, old friend.  I'll be doing some work uptown tomorrow, a lovely couple celebrating their anniversary is about to meet its end.  Would you like to do something about it?" 

"You're up to something, aren't you?"  Emma toyed with the stem of her wine glass.  Jericho offering up information about his whereabouts?  Never.

"Not at all!  Would I use such a dismal situation to set you up?  We're good friends now, I'd do you the honor of at least a gathering of twenty people or so."

"I'm delighted," she answered, her annoyance creeping into her voice.  "Look, I don't know what you're up to, but obviously you're having a great time setting it up.  Whatever it is, I won't give you the pleasure of my company, trust me on that one."

"What're you going to do then?  Set Laurie on me?"  Emma froze.  Something in Jericho's tone warned her.  He was excited about something... and it had to do with Laurie.

"No.  Why, do you miss her?  Fancy a date?" Emma played along, hoping to get some more hints.

"Oh, charmed I'm sure.  Fact is, I've got myself a date already... see you soon, Em!"  The line went dead.