Written by: L.N

Date: 1/19/03

Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed or its characters. They belong to the Spelling Entertainment Production.

A/N: This takes place after Centennial Charmed. This is the night after they have vanquished Cole.

Summary: The pain of losing her child and her husband is all bottled up, and ready to explode after more than half a year of staying in denial.

Tears

Part one: Tears



The night is dark and cold as my sisters and I head toward the manor after our night of victory. We finally did it, we killed Cole, and now he is gone forever, into the wind, into the air, into wherever the universe may take him.

Piper and Paige were ecstatic throughout the whole ride home. They were singing and talking about marking today as a family holiday that would be held every year, and it would be passed on to our next generation.

"So, Phoebe, what should we do?" Piper asks excitedly, not wasting a single breath. "I mean, after all, he was your husband, so you get the honours of picking."

"How about we do a demonic theme, but only with them exploding or burned in flame. We can make a feast out of it," Paige offers, while bouncing in front of Piper's face. "You know, you can make demonic figure cookies and stuff like that."

"Okay, that's very disturbing," Piper says. "And besides, it's Phoebe's choice."

"Know what, you guys? Why don't you go ahead and plan it without me?" I inform them, "I'm not really in the mood for any kind of celebrations right now." I then walk away, leaving Piper and Paige looking puzzled and surprised. I suppose I have been giving out the I-want-Cole-dead-now vibe so much lately that now it's shockingly hard for them to believe I'm not a bit thrilled about it.

They both exchange odd looks and then chase after me.

"Phoebe, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You can't just blow it off," Piper insists.

"I'm not; I'm just not feeling well right now," I reply with a hint of irritation in my voice. Sometimes Piper can be just so dogged and can't take a hint and leave things as they lay. I suppose that's where I got my doggedness from.

Hurrying up to my room, I close the door behind me and lock it. Spinning around, I suddenly feel a torrent rushing down my cheeks and my eyes feel heavy, and then and there I realize I'm having a nervous breakdown.

There I'm sitting on the floor, with my back leaning against the wooden door. I hug my knees, swaying back and forth trying to calm myself down before my sisters can hear me, but unfortunately I only find myself bawling my eyes out.

The tears are falling on their own. Rapidly they fall to my cheeks, and down to my shirt.

Are these tears of remorse, I ask myself, or tears that I have suppressed since the death of my son? Or is it just tears of being so cold toward his death?

The day he died I didn't even shed a single tear. I was trying to be strong and tough. Telling myself that baby wasn't mine. Then whose the hell was it, I curse.

I've been living in a world of lies. My lies.

Denial is a common thing; everyone goes through it sometime in his or her life, even the coldest hearted person.

Staying in denial is the only way they know how to stay strong for when the next unexpected thing hits. And that was exactly what I did. And the next thing I knew, I killed the love of my life.

I try to not blame myself for what happened, but I can't help it. It feels as if it was my fault. I could've done something to protect it. But I didn't. I let it happen. I let it take control of my body and fall into the Seer's trap.

Sometimes I even think that truly, deep down inside, I am evil.

Am I, I ask myself again. Am I really that evil to kill my ex-husband and my child?

It wasn't your fault. I fight with myself, trying to get myself to believe it. What's the point, things have been done. It's over. Get over it, I yell in my head.

Still I sit there, in the dark; I can see the curtain softly moving by the call of the wind. Sometimes in bed, I would stare at the curtain swaying back and forth for a couple of hours before falling asleep, thinking: what if that is my son's spirit calling out for me?

I still remember the dream, the wonderful dream where I gave birth to my son—before it was interrupted by the Seer's presence.

He was so beautiful, and so tiny. When I got the first glimpse of him, my heart just stopped. He was just breathtaking, and knowing that I just gave birth to that little miracle—or devil as Piper likes to refer to it—was just overwhelming.

When his first wail came, it was truly amazing. It felt like he wanted me to cradle him and comfort him, like every child wants its mother to.

But, before I knew it, the Seer had taken my baby and disappeared. I could've died at that moment. My baby boy was the only thing I had left that made my life worth living, but that too was gone.

Thankfully it was all a big nightmare.

However, it had become a reality, and the Seer worked her magic and took the baby from me before he could take his first breath of life.

Sniffles and snuffles now, the tears are drying up. I take my index fingers and wipe away the rest of the remaining drops.

Pulling myself off the floor, I pace over to the empty bed and lay in it.

Yet, again, I continue to torture myself and stare at the flying curtain.

Now, I think it might be Cole's and the baby's spirits hanging onto the wind, waiting for me to join them so we can be a family…again. Yes, again.

It's a relief to finally vanquish Cole, but I know deep down inside, I'm holding out hope that he will return someday.

The End