PART ONE
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When fate throws a dagger at you, there are only two ways to catch it: by the blade or by the handle.
-Chinese proverb
This would be her fifth jump and the longest by far: a full century into the past. Paige didn't know if she was more excited or terrified by the idea. A bit of both, she decided.
She'd meant to tell her sisters about this before, she really had, but she couldn't quite bring herself to share. This was her pet project after all, her baby, and as soon as she brought it to her family's attention, it would become communal property. She'd been an only child for far too long not to mourn that loss at least a little, even when she knew it was far safer to share the knowledge. Her brief experience as a double-D cup had nailed that particular lesson home.
This would be the last time. She'd make like Quantum Leap and then she'd share with the rest of the class. That was a promise to herself and she'd always been a woman of her word.
That word just wouldn't be fulfilled today.
Fingering her jasper necklace, she used Piper's measuring cup to judge the quantity of ingredients. If Piper actually knew what her kitchen supplies were being used for, she'd throw a conniption. Speaking of which, they were running low on laurel leaves. Paige made a note to stop by the store later before the depletion was noticed.
The mixture order was rapidly becoming second nature, her notes remaining as a mostly unused comfort by her elbow. She recited the spell (still stuck on that first lousy poem) and dropped a lit match into the pot.
The familiar spark and smoke arose and she closed her eyes, waiting for the heavy air to overcome her. Odd, but it felt somewhat cooler this time. Why that may be, she couldn't say. Eh. Probably her imagination.
When she opened her eyes, she stood in the middle of a cobbled street, the sounds of a bustling city all around her. She wasn't overly surprised; time travel was an imperfect transportation at best and the move through four- dimensional space tended to dislocate her from her starting point. She couldn't orient herself precisely but the ring of a trolley and a glimpse of the Bay reassured her she was still in San Francisco. And judging by the dress of the pedestrians, she's probably hit her target year as well.
The call of a newsboy drew her attention. Walking unnoticed along the sidewalk, she approached from the side and bent down to take a look at the paper's date: April 1st, 1906.
Damn. Three years off. She was sure she'd done everything correctly and she was close but still, she'd have to do some more research. God, was she ever getting sick of theoretical physics. And who thought she'd ever be thinking that? She'd nearly flunked physics senior year of high school; she couldn't imagine what Dr. Fleming would make of her now. Probably keel over from a shock-induced heart attack.
She remained deep in thought as she stepped off the curb, heedless of traffic. Intangibility had its advantages and one of them was never worrying about getting hit by trains, planes, or automobiles. Or, in this case, a hansom cab speeding along at a brief trot.
"Look out!"
Something grabbed her arm and pulled, knocking her off-guard and off- balance. Tripping against the curb, she twisted to regain her step only to tumble to the ground anyway, bringing whoever had a hold of her down with her. There was a small, almost inaudible crunch then nothing but quick, sharp gasps.
The sting in her palms told her that her intangibility had abandoned her. The jasper brooch lying inches from her face, unattached to anything, suggested that the clasp on the necklace had broken entirely. And a glance at her surroundings confirmed she was still in 1906. Paige therefore said the first thing to pop into her head.
"Oh shit."
"Pardon me?"
She abruptly became aware of the other body still half-sprawled on top of her own. Left at a loss of what else to say, she asked," Could you please get off me?"
"Oh. My apologies." The weight disappeared and she rolled over in a sitting position even though her scraped palms protested further movement. A masculine hand appeared in front of her eyes. "Would you care for a hand up, miss?"
She followed the hand up a black-clad arm and onto the face of a man a number of years younger than herself, still caught up in the latter stages of adolescence. Tall but not quite filled into his frame, he wore a derby hat that mostly hid black hair and regarded her with bright blue eyes growing cloudy with confusion. A good-looking kid destined to grow into a handsome man.
And he was suspiciously, terribly familiar.
"It can't be!"
The kid let his hand fall somewhat awkwardly and frowned. "I'm sorry, have we...met?" He seemed to notice her outfit of halter-top and Capri pants for the first time, leading him to a bewildered gape. "Or-or perhaps not."
"Cole!"
The kid looked to a young woman calling across the street. Paige's worst fears were confirmed when he waved in response. He turned back to the flabbergasted witch and touched the brim of his hat with another spoken "Miss," before beating a hasty retreat back to the girl who'd spoken. He left behind a Paige who could only reach the conclusion that the universe was playing particularly elaborate and cruel practical joke on her.
Because, apparently, it looked like her life might just have been saved by a very young and completely clueless Cole Turner.
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Cole dodged another cab before hopping onto the curb next to Lonnie. He greeted her with a light squeeze to her hand and chaste kiss on the cheek. "I thought we were meeting at the café."
"I arrived early. I thought I'd walk and meet you half way." She glanced over his shoulder to where he'd left the strange red-haired woman. "Who was that girl you knocked over?"
"I most certainly did not knock her over. It was the other way around, in fact."
"Oh, really. A little thing like her?" Her tone suggested disbelief but the side of her mouth twitched as if she were trying not to smile.
He sighed. "If you must know, she stepped onto the street without looking if there were a cab there first. I pulled her back and she tripped, that's all." Even as the words came out, something felt off about them. At the time, he could've sworn she had appeared out of thin air. He would suspect magic but he knew of no witch or demon that would dress in such a manner. Very strange, indeed.
Lonnie seemed to be of the same opinion. "Those clothes...do you think she's from a vaudeville show?"
"Perhaps. It might explain her revealing, erm, dress."
His stumble turned Lonnie's twitching smile into a smirk and she looked at him slyly from the corner of her eye. "Unless she has a less reputable profession. Cole, have you been keeping another woman without telling me?"
"Lonnie!"
"Because I always assumed I was the only kept woman in your life."
"Must we continue this conversation?"
"If you have more than one, I should know so that we organize ourselves into a true harem. We'll create a plan to alternate nights."
"That's polygamy."
"Harem sounds much more exotic."
"Let's go to lunch, shall we?" He pulled her down the street as she laughed, amused at his discomfort.
Abelone "Lonnie" Ling was a fascinating study in contrasting culture. Brown, almond-shaped eyes and black hair recalled her father's Chinese heritage but her temperament was probably much closer to that of the Danish- American mother she only vaguely remembered. She lacked the shy, shuffling gait of most women in Chinatown but wasn't tall enough to look the average American girl in the eye. Possessing a surprisingly wicked sense of humor and a sharp temper, Cole never knew where he stood with her on any given day.
He couldn't state precisely what attraction she held for him. She was pretty in her own way and often a pleasure to be around, but her inconsistent temper could drive him to distraction. Added to the oft-told warnings of the folly of becoming attached to a human, he was left floundering for an explanation.
It annoyed his mother to no end. He certainly wasn't above seeing the attraction in that.
"Oh! Did I tell you the news?" Lonnie linked her arm through his, slowing his normal stride down to a leisurely stroll that she could maintain without breaking into a trot.
"What news is that?"
"Madame Bodine has officially taken me as her apprentice."
He stopped walking. "She did?"
Lonnie practically bounced in place. "She loved the cheongsam I made for last New Year's. And she said if my technique kept improving at the rate it has, I could even become her partner in a few years."
"Lonnie, that's wonderful!" Her excitement was infectious and he gave her a hug, easily lifting her off her feet. She made a strange sort of squeak, half surprise, half delight.
"Cole, put me down!"
He obliged her, grin unabashed. "You could make anyone proud."
"Oh. Um, thank you," she said, her eyes turned away as if embarrassed by the compliment. "If that's true, does that mean I can finally convince you to be fitted for a decent sack suit?"
"What's wrong with my other suits?"
"Nothing, really, but you always wear the same coat." She tugged on the lapels of his frock coat. "It makes you look like an old man."
He brushed her fingers off. "I happen to like this coat, thank you. It belonged to my father."
"And my father could make a much more modern one for you."
"Lonnie, don't."
"Fine, fine. But don't think this is the end of it," she mock warned. "Anyway, if all goes well, I can move Papa by the end of the month."
"I thought he preferred that part of Chinatown."
"I don't," she said flatly. As if realizing how bitter she sounded, her tone brightened. "Besides, I saw a wonderful apartment just north of Market Street. Much larger and we'd both be closer to work. I can't see how he'd object. And when you get your trust in December-"
"Wait." He frowned. "What does my trust have to do with your apartment?"
"Well, nothing, I guess," she said, nonplussed. "Just, well, both our allowances will be increasing and I thought – I thought, maybe-"
"Lonnie, I won't graduate until next spring, you know that." An old argument, one that sounded no better now than it did when he first made it. But the truth would only cause her to laugh and proving the truth would necessitate her death. He preferred this method of subterfuge.
Lonnie, on the other hand, looked irritated. "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Act so evasive. Every time I try to make any plans, you tell me it won't work or change the subject."
"I do not."
"You do."
"I simply don't wish to make plans that have no guarantee. We're too young for any of our preparations to have much chance of success."
"Too young? You turn twenty-one at the end of the year. I'm already eighteen. How is that too young?" Her eyes narrowed. "Unless it's simply me you have the problem with."
"That's ridiculous."
"You're afraid of what people will think if you marry a Chinese girl." She sounded at once both angry and deeply hurt. It was the most logical conclusion to make yet probably the one thing that had nothing to do with his reluctance to marry.
"That's not fair," he said, tilting her chin up to look her in the eye. "What's more, it's not true. There were many reasons I was not engaged before meeting you and most still hold true. But I can assure you, none have anything to do with where you father might or might not originate from."
She looked away and sighed. When she spoke, she sounded weary. "You're an impossible man."
"I've been told it's part of my appeal."
Her mouth twitched but she kept it firm in a pout. "Then you've been misinformed."
He grinned and pulled her close, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Come. I have a lunch to buy you in celebration of your new position."
"You have several lunches to buy me for causing so much grief." The light banter marked an end to the argument.
"It's beginning to feel as if you're taking advantage of me."
"Only beginning to?"
"Touché."
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Paige was not going to panic. She refused to panic. It didn't matter that her pendant was broken or that her return spell refused to work or that she was stuck in the early twentieth century, she would absolutely not, under any circumstances, allow herself to panic.
Oh, who was she fooling? Of course she was panicking!
Her minor spaz-out started to draw notice from the other pedestrians (although it could've been her outfit causing the majority of the attention). Out of nervous, unthinking reflex, she orbed away to a more secluded spot, stumbling out into a nearby alley in surprise.
The last time she got trapped in a time not her own, hadn't she lost the ability to orb?
Mind refocused on this new and not unwelcome problem, she decided to test her power. Concentrating on a spot only a few feet away, she willed herself there. Reality disintegrated into a pale blue imitation of itself, as she literally turned into a group of intelligent balls of light. She could never properly explain the feeling, despite how accustomed she'd grown to it.
The strange, but comfortable sensation was greeted with relief as she reformed at her destination. The powerful self-defense mechanism remained intact, meaning that her other Whitelighter abilities were probably also still hanging around. However, when she tried to call a piece of wood from a broken crate to her hand, it remained stubbornly where it was.
Okay, this was just weird. Why would her Whitelighter power work but not her witch side? It didn't make sense. But dwelling on the problem did lead her to a plan of action.
The Halliwells (nee Warrens) had lived in the same house in San Francisco for four generations. That would mean one of her ancestors was likely living at Prescott Street at this very moment if she had calculated correctly. If anyone could help her, it was her magically inclined relatives. And if she had reckoned wrong and they weren't living there, well, she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. It wasn't like she had many options.
All right, so she had a plan. Go her. She almost stepped out to the street again when she realized she still wore quite attractive, but wholly inappropriate twenty-first century attire. She'd already possibly affected history by simply being here, the last thing she needed was to draw any more attention to herself. Therefore, clothes first, long-lost relatives second.
Congratulating herself on her strategic abilities, Paige slunk off to find a convenient laundry line and steal some clothing.
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END PART ONE