PRISONER'S KEY

Chapter 3

Over the course of the next days, Rhiannon watched with rising horror as Cole set up his last, desperate attempt to get back in Phoebe's good graces. She had been shocked to learn that he agreed to join the cult of the avatars instead of taking her up on the offer to work for her side. His decision made more sense once she figured out what he was trying to do. He would be unsuccessful, as he had been so often. Phoebe Halliwell had made up her mind, and nothing he said or did would sway her heart.

The one thing Cole failed to acknowledge was that he wasn't the same man in the alternate reality of his own creation. Messing with time and reality was a dangerous thing, something not undertaken lightly; demons and Elders smarter than Cole had found themselves outwitted by the twists of time and the fabric of realities. And the Phoebe that lived in this other world knew a different Cole.

Rhiannon couldn't let it happen. Not just for Cole's sake, but for everyone's. If Cole got himself killed in that other world, this reality would be stuck with a thoroughly evil incarnation who was also the new Source. Matters would grow so much worse. But who could help her?

The avatars.

The avatars were the only ones powerful enough. They could manipulate time and space in such a way that they could save Cole from a certain death, and the world from a fate far worse than death. She needed to meet with them. But how? Although the avatars claimed to be neither evil nor good, the prevailing opinion within the Council of Elders was that they were to be avoided as much as possible. Thus, no relations were formed nor contacts kept. She didn't know how to get in touch with the avatars, and she didn't know anyone who could.

Except for one man.

Rhiannon summoned Ania in order to have the young whitelighter take her deep into the woods of Russia, where an old shaman lived in a secluded cabin. His identity was a well-kept secret, even within the Council. Rhiannon had only met him once, long ago, and she hoped he would remember her well enough to help.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Ania asked. She eyed the dilapidated hut with distrust. The wood was cracked and splintered, and grayish-green fungi covered most of the roof and walls. If not for the small trickle of white smoke drifting out through a hole in the roof, Rhiannon would have believed the place to be deserted and the shaman gone.

"Yes, I'm sure. No harm will come to me here. It's easier to talk if we're alone. I will summon you when I'm finished."

Ania threw a last, wary glance at the shed, then orbed away.

Rhiannon took a deep breath and adjusted her hood. She strode the last few meters to the structure's door. The ground beneath her feet was rarely trodden and thick mosses muffled her footsteps. They made her bounce as if she were walking on an air cushion. It was a disconcerting feeling, which didn't do much to make her feel more convinced she was doing the right thing.

"Greetings, dear girl." The sudden voice was cracked with age and thickly accented. "The woods whispered of your arrival."

Rhiannon squinted into the darkness of the cabin. A single beam of daylight tumbling through the smoke hole in the roof, along with the flickering of flames in the hearth, formed the only illumination. She made out the crooked form of the man she had come looking for. His hair was white and straight, and hung nearly to his waist. It appeared even longer from the way he hunched over with arthritis, making him stoop and peer up at her from about the height of her chest.

"Greetings to you as well, Master Razkhupik," Rhiannon offered a formal bow of her head. "I trust you are well?"

He cackled a laugh. "As well as to be expected. It 'as been a long time, Rhiannon. Ah yes, we remember you," he added when she blinked, startled at the mention of her name. "Tea?" He poured her a cup of black liquid before she could offer a reply. "The other guests will arrive soon"

"Other guests?" Rhiannon was surprised. Not many people knew about the existence of the ancient Russian shaman, and even fewer were welcome to visit him.

"The avatars, of course." He laughed again, a sound like brittle paper being torn. "You want to meet with them, yes?"

"Yes, that's why I--but how do you know?"

He twirled a finger. "The trees, sweet girl. The trees."

Right. She should have known better than to ask. She'd been too shocked, though, to keep the words in. "Of course, Master." She sipped her tea. The black liquid was hot and bitter, and strangely refreshing. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

"Meeting the avatars? Or trying to save your Cole Turner?" He shrugged as he took a seat opposite Rhiannon at the low table. "That is for you to decide. We are an old man. The ways of the worlds do no longer interest us. Our days are numbered; we shall be gone soon."

He wasn't being morbid; he was just evasive. She hadn't really expected an answer anyway. Master Razkhupik was notorious for letting events play out, even if he knew what the outcome was going to be. It was something every clairvoyant learned to do eventually, since the alternative often made things so much worse.

Without warning, the meager light in the room dimmed even further. Two black shapes appeared in front of the fireplace. Rhiannon let out a startled yelp and nearly dumped the hot tea in her lap. For a moment she feared the new arrivals were demons, then recognized their aura of immense power. The avatars had arrived.

The one to the left was elderly, with a white beard and balding pate surrounded by white stubble. The avatar on the right was looking younger, with dark brown skin and matching eyes. They were clothed in matching black robes.

"We shall leave you to yourselves." Razkhupik shuffled through the low doorway and disappeared into the forest.

Rhiannon continued to observe the two Avatars in silence, while they stared back at her with unblinking gazes. At last, she shook herself.

"Um." She cleared her throat. "Th-thank you for coming. I would like to discuss Cole Turner with you."

"What concern is he to the Elders?" It was the dark-skinned avatar who spoke first, confirming the other's seniority within the cult. "He has already joined with us."

"I know." Rhiannon took a deep breath, wondering how to go about this. Diplomacy wasn't her strong suit, exactly. Other Elders might enjoy bandying words but she was much more of a charge-ahead woman. "He has also used the power you gave him to create a rent in time and travel to a parallel universe to regain his love's heart. I don't believe that was your plan for him."

"An unexpected setback," the younger avatar acknowledged. "Once he realizes it isn't working, he'll return things to the way they were."

"What if he can't?" Rhiannon leaned back, hoping she wasn't showing her anxiety. "He's not as powerful in this parallel dimension as he thinks he is. And the Charmed Ones will reconstitute the Power of Three. When they do--" She didn't finish. They were smart enough to deduce the consequences themselves.

They didn't let her down.

"We will be left with a Turner possessed by the former Source's power, and under the spell of a Seer who no longer exists in this world. Not a pleasant prospect." The elder avatar gestured for Rhiannon to continue. "What do you propose?"

Careful now, she told herself. "You have the power to manipulate time and space. I suggest you pull him out of that universe and return everyone to where they are supposed to be."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"At the very least: a safer world. But I want more. I want him to be offered a fair choice: join your cult, or take my offer to turn his life around." If she could get him out of the avatars' grip, Cole still had a chance for redemption.

"And why should we agree to give him such a choice? He already took our oath."

Rhiannon sighed. She didn't have to offer the avatars anything in return for letting Cole go; she had no bargaining chips to put on the table. All she could do was plead for their understanding and their sense of honor -- if they had any, she amended silently.

"Ask yourselves this, though: did he truly take your oath of his own free will? Or was it the desperate act of a desperate man trying to salvage the one good thing in his life?"

"Doesn't matter!" It was the younger avatar that spoke hotly. "A choice made is--"

The senior man gestured impatiently for him to be quiet. "Quiet! I'm afraid I have to agree with Elder Rhiannon in this matter. Cole Turner didn't join us because he wanted to." He met Rhiannon's eye. "We agree. We will do as you ask and undo his actions. Then we will repeat our proposal that he be part of our cause."

* * *

"She's not gonna throw it. Are you?" Cole sounded surer than he felt. He watched several thoughts flash behind Phoebe's eyes and recalled the scene in the bedroom. "We've been through so much together... haven't we? Our love's so strong, nothing can destroy it, not even... this. We're meant to be together."

It was a lie. He had been so sure of himself, so sure that changing the past would fix everything that had gone wrong with him and Phoebe. But when you really got down to it, the results were the same here as in the world he left behind. Somewhere along the line things had gone horribly wrong; Phoebe hated him with a passion, and he was as alone as ever.

"I don't think so."

Phoebe readied herself to throw the potion. From the corner of his eye, Cole caught a slight movement, a shift in the shadows. He didn't turn to see what or who it was. It didn't matter. Phoebe's hand was rising, preparing for the toss, and in that final act she would end his misery once and for all. Cole straightened, waiting. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

The potion came flying at him with what the movie people called slo-mo. It was easy to follow its arch through the air, see its approach inch by agonizing inch. The glass vial sparkled in the light. Cole braced himself for the pain that would come when the bottle broke, when the potion soaked him and--

Somebody yanked him up by the collar of his jacket. A strangled sound escaped from his throat and his vision blurred, making the room spin crazily. Far off, he heard screaming, in a voice that sounded eerily like his own. There was a momentary glow of bright flames, then--

He stumbled to his knees, gasping for air. His eyesight cleared, and he recognized the carpet beneath him as his own. Slowly he raised his head, taking in the apartment around him, the French doors, their glass shattered, that led to the balcony overlooking San Francisco.

He moaned with dismay. What had gone wrong this time?

"Cole?"

He knew that voice. His head whipped around. "You!"

Rhiannon stood behind him, dressed in her white, hooded robe. Another person stood at her side. Cole blinked in surprise when he recognized him. The gray-bearded avatar, the one who had taken his oath, accompanied her.

"And you. What--"

"I pulled you out," the avatar explained before Cole could finish the question.

"We couldn't let you die in that world, Cole."

"And let the other you loose in this world."

Cole stared at them, trying to make sense of their words. The confusion must have been clear on his face, because Rhiannon knelt beside him and explained gently.

"Paige could travel to that world, because she didn't exist there anymore. You, on the other hand, switched places with Belthazor. You saw what he did, what kind of man he was. Do you really want him to live in this world?"

Cole gasped when her meaning sunk in. He shook his head. "It was all wrong. He took what we had, Phoebe and me, and twisted it to serve the Source, to serve evil."

"That's what I mean." Rhiannon gave him a pleased smile that would have been condescending if it hadn't been so honest, and urged him to his feet.

Cole rubbed his face and blinked rapidly to force back the tears that threatened. He'd be damned to show them how much it hurt. "Now what?" he asked. He could stop the tears, but he couldn't keep the desolation from his voice.

"Now," Rhiannon said, "you get to make your final choice. It's up to you to decide what sort of life you want to live, what kind of man you want to be."

"Why? Without Phoebe--"

"Cole, you can't let someone else define who you are!" The Elder sounded exasperated. "You have to start taking responsibility for your life. The avatars and I agreed to give you this option. Our offers still stand. You can come with me, and atone for some of the horrible things you've done. You can repeat your oath to the avatars and do--" She hesitated. "Do whatever it is they do. Or you can choose neither, and learn to deal with your powers on your own."

Cole glanced at the avatar, then back at Rhiannon. "I already took their oath."

"I relieve you of your pledge to us," the avatar spoke. "You took it for the wrong reasons. You're useless to us if you don't join us out of your own free will. We need those who come to us to be one hundred percent dedicated to our cause. Now, choose."

Cole turned away and walked over to the French doors to look down at the city. He never noticed how the doors swayed gently in the soft breeze. He didn't even see the city below. Instead, his mind's eye replayed his first meeting with Phoebe, when her dazzling smile had kickstarted his human heart back to life. She would never smile at him like that again; she'd made that painfully clear on more than one occasion. He needed to give up hope. What was that line in that Janis Joplin song again? Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.

There was nothing left to lose for him anymore. He was free.

But he didn't have to betray the love they once shared. Phoebe had given him so much. She had taught him how to fight the good fight, shown him the satisfaction there was to be found in saving an innocent.

He knew what he had to do.

At last he turned back. The two creatures, one white, one black, looked at him, waiting for his decision. Cole squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said, directing his gaze at the black-clad avatar. "I choose to go with Rhiannon."

The avatar gave a single nod of acceptance and disappeared in a black smudge. Rhiannon's face lit up with a bright smile. "You made the right choice," she promised him. "I--" She broke off and cocked her head. Cole listened. The cables in the elevator started whirring.

"We've to hurry. Ania!"

A few moments later a bright-eyed, young woman orbed into the room.

"Ania, we have to leave. Cole, if you please." Rhiannon gestured for him to take Ania's hand.

He hesitated a moment, recognizing the voices in the elevator as those of the Charmed Ones. His heart twitched at the thought that Phoebe was coming up to his apartment, that she was so close--but she'd never been further away. He grabbed the hand the young whitelighter offered, and she pulled him into a vortex of blue lights.

Just before the apartment faded from his view forever, he heard Paige's voice. "I'm telling you, he's gone for good. We don't have to look over our shoulders anymore. It's over."

Yes, Cole thought. It's finally over.

--END--

Disclaimer: this story based on the Spelling Television/WB Television Network series Charmed. All characters belong to their original owners. The story is meant for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement was intended.