Twice Cursed
Going Insane

Cole stared at her, unable to respond to such a remark. "Uh…"

"Yeah," Phoebe said shortly, pulling herself up again, her sleepiness gone. "What are you doing here, Cole?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I told you," he said patiently, "I don't know." He really was wondering what was going on with Phoebe. She had her sisters, and apparently she had a husband. So what was she doing in a cold cemetery at night?

"You know," she said sardonically, "there's no one who cheats death like you."

Cole continued to gape at his ex-wife, her actions confusing him beyond words. It was almost like—she trusted him. He knew it was much too much to hope for, yet he could not help it as a small bubble of optimism rose up in his chest. "Well," he said in answer to her comment, "there's nothing like coming back from the dead and seeing you."

Phoebe let out a short bark of laughter and looked away, running her tongue over her teeth. "I feel absolutely disgusting," she said under her breath, not acknowledging Cole's remark.

Cole, picking up on her remark, nearly told her that she always looked beautiful but decided not to push his luck, even if he believed it true. "Well, if you want, you can come to my hotel room," Cole offered her a bit tremulously. He held up his hands, anticipating her reaction before she reacted herself. "For what it's worth I swear that I won't do anything funny. I'm just offering you my bathroom."

Phoebe stared at him for so long after his proposal that Cole began to feel weaker than he already was. Finally, she blinked, almost seeming to snap out of a trace, and nodded. "Okay," she said. Nothing more, nothing less. No ultimatums, no warnings. Just acceptance. "How are we getting there?"

"Will, uh, shimmering be fine by you?" Cole stammered. "If I am to shimmer you, though, I can only shimmer you first. By yourself, that is, not with all those comforters and bedquilts and pillows and whatnot. Before I might've not even been able to that, but I've rested up a bit, so I can probably do it now. Maybe I can shimmer a bottle of water along with you too, but there's plenty of water in my hotel room, it's really big, comfortable you know, I used money from my bank account to get it," he continued to babble. Phoebe shook her head.

"You can shimmer either me or the bedding first, whatever you want," she said. She cracked a half-smile. "I don't have a preference or anything."

Cole continued to stare at her even as he held out his hand. She was so calm—too calm, too serene. Not that he was complaining much, since he would rather not be punched in the jaw, but it seemed strange—too strange.

Phoebe stretched out her arm to lightly rest her hand in the palm of his. He curled his fingers around her unresisting ones, then, without taking his eyes off of her, he shimmered.

A few seconds later, they were standing in the bedroom of the suite. Phoebe brought her eye contact with her ex-husband and turned her gaze toward the completely stripped king-sized bed. She cleared her throat slightly. "Maybe you should bring back the sheets now. The hotel may find it a bit strange to find a bare mattress."

Cole nodded, slowly. "You make yourself comfortable. The bathroom's yours for the using. If you need anything, just call room service." Without another word, he shimmered away.

Phoebe slowly let her breath out, not even realizing she had been holding it in. She looked around the luxurious suite and around the corners at the interconnected living room and kitchenette. Some things never changed, did they? She found the deluxe bathroom, entered and closed the door behind her.

Not like something as insignificant as a door could stop Cole from shimmering in. Phoebe heaved a sigh and stared at her reflection, her palms digging into the edge of the sink counter. I certainly look a mess, she thought as she ran a hand through her knotted hair. Phoebe wondered why she wasn't acting with more extremity. She wondered why she felt so unfazed, why she acted with such tranquility when she saw her evil ex-husband returned from the mores of hell for the second time. That's me, a slightly sarcastic voice sounded in her head. The most jaded witch of all time.

At that thought, Phoebe suddenly turned away from the mirror, beginning to feel afraid of her own thoughts. Under these circumstances, she shouldn't be making sarcastic comments to herself! Hell, she shouldn't be in Cole Turner's hotel room at all! What was she doing? What was she thinking? She should be with her sisters discussing the situation, Leo should be there telling the Elders—yet something was holding her back.

She didn't know what; was it her empathy, the magical power that she still hadn't received at the time of Cole's second demise? Even without seriously trying, Phoebe knew Cole meant every single word that he had told her, knew that he was telling the truth when he said that he didn't know why he was alive again, knew that he had nothing but good intentions when he offered her his bathroom. She could delve much deeper if she wanted to, to confirm her findings, but she knew that no matter how calm she was now, she was not ready for it. Not ready for whatever his heart felt.

It was so strange. On that…makeshift bed that Cole had set up for her, when she was still caught in that delicate place between sleep and reality, she had felt a strong, distinct presence, and the presence had given her a sense of peace that carried all the way into her awakening. And so when she woke, she didn't find it surprising to see Cole. It wasn't until she remembered all her circumstances that she became taken aback; and with that, she felt deadened, weary, as her memory of her most recent events came flooding back to her. Even so, the memories did nothing to affect her feelings. Her feelings? She didn't even know what she was feeling now, and she was supposed to be the expert.

She leaned forward against toward the mirror and said very seriously to her reflection; "I think I'm going insane." Then she turned away, pulling off her cardigan as she began to prepare for her shower.