Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who's read and reviewed. You guys are fantastic!
Chapter Four
Henry woke up to the shrill sound of his alarm clock, the newscaster droning about a protest marching the length of Lombard Street. Rolling over with a groan, he slapped the snooze button just as the news segued into a string of advertisements, plunging the room into blessed silence.
With his eyes still closed, he rolled back over, bumping into a body sprawled out beside him in the bed. He wrapped his arm around a slim waist, smiling as he dropped a kiss onto the curve of a graceful neck.
"Morning," he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep.
The body in his arms shifted, soft lips brushing against his own.
"Good morning," came the soft reply, and his eyes flew open at the voice that was most definitely not Paige's.
"Amanda?" he blurted, staring in shock at the ex-girlfriend he hadn't seen in almost five years.
The blonde woman lying beside him propped herself up on an elbow as she stared at him in amusement.
"Were you expecting someone else?" she asked, wryly.
'Yes, actually,' Henry thought, but he had enough self control not to voice the thought out loud. 'I was expecting my wife,' he thought, the shock of losing Paige hitting him all over again.
But, Amanda was still waiting for an answer, so he forced a grin onto his face.
"Who else could I possibly have been expecting?" he asked, and she laughed, leaning forward to kiss him, again.
He returned her kiss, quickly, falling back against his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. His mind was whirling, and he didn't know what to think.
"I don't suppose you know the date?" he asked.
"It's the eighteenth," Amanda told him, which wasn't quite the answer he was looking for.
"What about the year?" he asked, and Amanda gave an incredulous laugh.
"Exactly how much did you have to drink last night?" she demanded, playfully, and Henry shrugged, helplessly. "It's two-thousand-one," she informed him, after a few moments. "Anything else you've forgotten since last night?"
Her tone was teasing, but Henry couldn't bring himself to smile. Instead, he sat up, abruptly, headed for the bathroom.
"Henry?" Amanda demanded, incredulously, "Henry, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he muttered, dismissively.
He knew he was being rude to Amanda, but he couldn't help it. His memories of the woman were tainted by their last encounter. He couldn't even remember what their last fight had been about, but he remembered the yelling, the tears, and the frying pan she'd chucked at his head before storming out.
And he remembered drinking himself into a stupor for three days straight after she'd walked away, convinced that he'd just lost the one, great love of his life. It had taken his best friend dragging him into the bathroom and dousing him in a freezing cold shower to completely wake him up.
That woman, the one who'd hated him, wasn't the same one who was standing behind him in the doorway, watching him with a worried expression on her face. That woman wouldn't make an appearance for at least another six months, on the same night he'd been planning to propose to her. But, he couldn't bring himself to separate the two in his mind.
"Henry," Amanda pressed, insistently, and he finally looked at her when she placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked, and he sighed.
"Amanda, what are we doing here?" he asked.
"What?" she asked, confused. "You mean, here in your apartment?"
"No, I mean, us, here," he said, not sure how to explain it any better than that. "What are we doing in this relationship?"
"What brought this on?" Amanda asked, quietly, and there was a distinctly worried tone in her voice.
"You and I both know this isn't going anywhere," he said, looking away from the concern on her face. "You hate my job, my friends, we have practically nothing in common-"
"What are you saying?" she asked, and he didn't look at her for fear of what he would see on her face.
"Maybe we should just end this," he said, and from behind him, Amanda gasped, and he could hear a sob in her voice. "Just stop before things get too complicated."
"Just give up, you mean," Amanda said, bitterness creeping into her tone. "Like you always do. My friends warned me about you, Henry. I guess they were right."
"I guess they were," Henry muttered, still not looking at her.
He'd wanted to deny her words, but she'd been speaking nothing less than the truth. Before Paige, his track record with relationships had been spotty at best. His job had gotten in the way more than once, leaving him to watch women walk away after they'd claimed to understand his devotion to his parolees, only to be unable to deal with the reality of the situation, with the long nights he put in, with the danger he sometimes found himself in. Amanda was just the latest in a long line.
With Paige, though, he'd not only found someone who truly understood, but whose devotion to her own charges matched his own. He hadn't realized just how amazing that was until it was gone. He hadn't realized until it was too late, until she was gone, how much he truly loved his wife.
Amanda was silent for a long time, but finally, out of the corner of his eye, he could see her turn and stalk back across the bedroom. Finally turning around, Henry watched her grab her clothes off the floor where they lay in a pile, practically tearing her clothes as she wrenched them on. Shoving her feet into an uncomfortable pair of shoes, she stomped through his apartment in a fury.
Stopping at the door, she turned and glared at him.
"Have a good life," she spit at him, and then she disappeared down the hallway, slamming the door behind her.
"Well, that went well," a new voice spoke up, cheerfully, and Henry whirled around in shock to see Sandra standing in the middle of his living room.
Then, he blushed bright scarlet when he realized that he was standing in the middle of his apartment, stark naked. Not that Sandra seemed to mind, if the smile on her face was any indication.
Henry wasn't going to give the Elder the satisfaction of seeing him run away, so he walked back into his bedroom with as much dignity as he could muster. He shut the door firmly in her face, hearing the woman's bright laughter behind him.
He got dressed, quickly, and when he went back into the living room, Sandra was sitting on the couch, her robes tucked neatly around her legs. She looked up as he entered, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"So, the show's over, already?" she asked, and he scowled at her, dropping down across from her in a chair.
"What am I doing here, Sandra?" he asked, bluntly. "After our little conversation, yesterday, I half expected to be dead, right now."
"Well, if Odin and his ilk had his way," Sandra told him, "then you would be. But, luckily for you, others thought differently."
"Luckily," Henry echoed, dryly. "I'm trapped in the past, I watched my wife die, yesterday, and I've lost everything. Tell me, again, how lucky I am."
"You're alive," Sandra countered, with just as much bluntness. "And you get to live this time over, again."
"Yeah," Henry muttered, bitterly. "Alone. Just the way I always wanted."
"You know," Sandra told him, and from the testy tone in her voice she was losing patience with him, "some of my fellow Elders wanted to keep you in Up There, separated from this time and used as a source of information."
"Why didn't they?" Henry grumbled.
"Some of us, though," she went on, ignoring him, "felt that you deserved a reward for saving the Charmed Ones. So, we sent you back to Earth and merged you with your current self."
"And what good does that do me?" he muttered, and Sandra rolled her eyes.
"Think about it," she told him. "If there's a Henry Mitchell in this time-"
For several seconds, he couldn't see what she was hinting at, although it felt as though the answer was just floating out of reach. Then, suddenly, he got it.
"You mean, Paige is here, too?" he asked, breathlessly, finally catching on.
"Exactly," Sandra told him, and he sank back in his seat, weak with relief.
"She's alive?" he asked, softly, and Sandra smiled, understandingly.
"And maybe, this time, you two won't take five years to cross paths," she teased him, gently.
"But," Henry protested, even as he wondered what the hell he was doing, "doesn't that break some rules, or something?"
"I think it's a little late to be worried about rules at this point," Sandra said, laughing. "After all, just by saving Prue Halliwell's life, you've changed things more than anyone can anticipate."
"I can't thank you enough for this," Henry told her, still dazed. "This is incredible. You've given me a second chance with Paige."
"Only if you're brave enough to take it," Sandra reminded him.
She stood, and Henry suddenly was reminded of something she and the other Elders needed to know.
"Wait a minute," he said, quickly, before she could orb away.
"What is it?" Sandra asked, curiously.
"Billie and Christy Jenkins," Henry told her. "They're the witches in the future who killed Piper and Phoebe."
"That is the kind of information I was talking about, earlier," Sandra said.
"You have to stop them," Henry said. "Bind their powers, or something. Billie, she'd be about fourteen, now, and Christy, she's being held in the underworld by demons."
"Don't worry," Sandra told him, before he could go on. "We'll take care of it."
"It's just that they're dangerous," Henry protested, but he had the feeling that Sandra wasn't listening.
She probably wondered just how dangerous a couple of kids could possibly be, but he knew better. And if the Elders weren't going to do anything about the Jenkins sisters, he'd find some way to deal with them. He'd be damned if he was going to go through the hell of watching his family die, again.
"We will take care of this problem," Sandra repeated, as if she'd read his mind – and for all he knew, she had. "You have your own problems to take care of," she added.
"What does that mean?" Henry asked, but her answer was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing.
He turned to grab the cordless phone off the coffee table, and when he turned back around, Sandra had orbed away.
"Stubborn Elders," he muttered, hoping she was listening, and he thought he could hear ghostly laughter at his words. "Hello?" he said, a moment later, answering the phone.
"Hey, Mitchell, man," a familiar voice said, "you planning on coming in to work, today?"
The grin that had spread across his face at the sound of his best friend's voice fell when he looked at his watch and realized how late it had gotten.
"Oh, crap," he muttered, and on the other end of the line, Ryan was laughing at him.
"Get your ass in here before you get fired," he said, and then he hung up.
Muttering curses under his breath, Henry sprinted around the house, grabbing his coat, his shoes, and his service revolver from the safe in his bedroom. Then, barely remembering to lock his front door, he ran down the hallway, bypassing the eternally-slow elevator for the stairs.
Hitting the bottom landing at a run, he burst out of the stairwell and immediately slammed into someone, knocking them both to the floor.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, quickly, climbing to his feet and extending a hand to help the woman to her feet.
The woman took his outstretched hand, letting herself be pulled to her feet. Bending, she snagged the strap of her purse from where it had landed and slung the rainbow-colored bag over her shoulder. Then, she brushed her hair back away from her face, and Henry felt his heart stop.
"Where's the fire?" Paige asked, jokingly, but Henry couldn't answer her.
He wasn't even sure if he was breathing, right now, and words were definitely beyond his capabilities. It was all he could do not to grab Paige and hold on to her as hard as he could, which would have certainly freaked her out. So, he just settled for staring at her in shock, drinking in the sight of Paige standing before him, alive and well.
His silence must have unnerved her, because she was eyeing him, oddly. Then, lifting her hand in front of his face, she snapped her fingers, rapidly, startling him back to attention. She moved her hand slowly back and forth in front of his face, her eyes never leaving his.
"What are you doing?" he finally managed to force out, and she lowered her hand.
"Checking your reactions," she told him. "The way you were just staring, I thought you might have hit your head when we fell down."
"No, I – I'm fine," he said, still staring, and she shook her head in disbelief.
"You're sure?" she pressed. "You're not dizzy, you're not seeing double? Because I'd hate to walk out of here and have you pass out five seconds later."
"I'm fine," Henry reassured her, finally able to form coherent sentences, again.
"Okay, then," Paige said, even though she clearly wasn't convinced. "If you're sure you're not hurt, then I have to get going. I'm late for work."
She'd turned and started walking across the lobby, and Henry watched her go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was foolish, especially since she seemed to live in the same apartment building as he did, but he couldn't help but feel that he'd never see her again if she walked out the doors.
"Henry," he blurted out, right before she could leave the lobby. "I'm Henry Mitchell."
"Paige Matthews," she said, turning and smiling at him. "Nice to meet you, Henry."
"I live in three-eighteen," he told her, because he couldn't think of any other way to stop her from leaving than to just keep talking.
"Three-oh-two," Paige replied. "Looks like we're practically neighbors."
"Looks like," he echoed, lamely, and then his heart started beating faster when she turned and had her hand on the door handle, ready to leave. "Do you want to go out for coffee, some time?" he said, quickly, and she turned to face him, again.
"I'm really sorry," she said, an apologetic tone in her voice. "I'm kind of seeing someone."
"Oh, right," Henry muttered, feeling his heart sink in his chest. "Of course you are."
Paige's smile grew uncertain, and he had the feeling that he was making her uncomfortable.
"Hey, it's no big deal," he said, quickly, trying to brush it off. "I mean, it's not every day I run into a beautiful woman, so I just figured I'd take that chance."
Paige laughed, and her whole face lit up as she grinned.
"It was nice meeting you, Henry," she said. "I'll see you around, yeah?"
Then, before he could say anything, she'd disappeared out the door. He had to force himself to walk normally across the lobby and not sprint over to the door to watch her drive off. Going over to his own car, he got in, but he didn't start the engine. Instead, he stared out of the windshield, the keys held limply in his hand.
He couldn't believe his luck, couldn't believe that she'd been so close all along. Just down the hallway, and he'd never noticed. At least not until today. He suddenly realized what Sandra had meant about a second chance, and he felt like he'd been living life with his eyes closed before now.
'But, not anymore,' he thought, determinedly. 'Today really is the first day of the rest of my life. And I'm going to take advantage of every second.'
His mind made up, Henry started the car and backed out of the parking lot, driving to the police station where he worked.