A/N: God, I hope you guys still remember who I am. After a gigantic spell of a writer's block, I'm back for this unfortunately short chapter. The good news is that I have roughly mapped out the next two or three chapters in this story. The bad news is that I have no idea when Love's Intervention will be updated—I know what's supposed to happen in the next chapter, but since it's supposed to be both long and action-packed, it may take a long while.

In between the last time I updated my two main stories, however, I have put up a one-shot—Research—so if you haven't read it yet, I sincerely hope you do so.

Without further ado.

Twice Cursed
Story

Phoebe gave a short laugh as she inched back, sitting more fully on the bed. "God—so many things have happened—I'm not even sure where to start," she said nervously.

"Well, that should be expected, seeing that you're a Charmed One and all," Cole replied, wanting to help Phoebe alleviate some of her edginess, which he guessed was partly due to her empathy. A whole new power, Cole mused, wondering what else Phoebe had in store for him. He had a feeling the information he was told so far was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Yeah," Phoebe said a bit shortly, puzzling Cole. Did he say something wrong? He had no time to wonder as she started talking again.

"Um…let's see…a little while after your—uh, alternate universe—Piper gave birth, to Wyatt. We were so surprised, you can't even imagine. I mean, not even Dad's evil wife and her boss knew that when they attempted to steal him away, and they were armed with a prophecy and all." Phoebe paused and laughed a genuine laugh at the look on Cole's face. "You see, it's like this…"

Cole watched Phoebe intently as she talked of her life, noticing the hand gestures that came with her words, the way her body was curled up on the fresh pillows, her smiles and her frowns. So caught up in studying her, he heard less and less of what she was saying. It wasn't until she began to wave her hand energetically in front of his face that he jerked to a start to give her a sheepish smile.

"Let me guess," Phoebe said, her tone stern, but traces of a smile lingering on her lips. "You haven't heard a word I've said?"

"That's not true!" Cole protested. "You were just talking about how your grandmother didn't want to give your nephew a Wiccaning!"

Phoebe crossed her arms and glared at him. "That was at least ten minutes ago! I was talking about Chris!"

Cole narrowed his eyes. "Chris as in Piper's second son," Phoebe clarified, exasperated. "God, the first time I find an audience and said audience isn't even paying attention." She huffed. "Where was I?"

As Phoebe continued to talk, Cole tried harder to listen to her but was thrown when he took in the meaning of her words. Did she really trust him with her past, with knowledge, with—her? He swallowed as Phoebe sent another glare his way as if to check to see if he was paying attention. He held up his hands in a pleading gesture and began listening again.

"So we created a perfect man for Piper, you know, one of those 24-hours-a-pop kind of things, and he was really perfect too—not the kind of man I thought Piper would come up with. I was thinking more of the blonde and Leo-like type but apparently not. Though I remember feeling really bad for Leo when he found out about him, he was just about as crestfallen as the time when he saw Piper getting ready for her date with Greg."

"Greg? I thought that the guy that Piper went out with before she married Leo was Dan," Cole said, a bit confused. "And why," he continued before he could stop himself, "would Piper have her sisters create a perfect man for her at all? Wasn't Leo enough?"

Phoebe sent a quelling glare in his direction. "Fine, if you don't want to listen to me, then tell some stories of your own," she snapped. Suddenly, however, her features softened.

"I think I'm about the only Charmed One who hasn't had the pleasure of—dying," she commented. "Tell me—how is it like?" Her tone was conversational, but Cole got the feeling that her question was more serious than she let on. For that reason, he swallowed the questions that formed at the back of his throat at her comment.

"The death I experienced was definitely not the type that you would, Phoebe," Cole answered, a cloud passing over his eyes as he spoke. "I don't know exactly how it is up there, but it sure isn't puffy clouds and white robes down there."

Phoebe blinked. "You mean…"

"Hell," Cole confirmed. "Not a fun place."

Phoebe blinked again, but Cole hardly noticed. In the back of his mind, he realized that this was how Phoebe felt when she related her tale, but the small thought was lost as he remembered the abyss that he had returned from practically a day ago. "You don't really remember specific instances. Well, I mean, there weren't any real distinct instances to really remember. There was the physical pain. That was to be expected—that's the most obvious, isn't it?

"But then—just when you'd least expect it, too—you'll get hit with all these memories. I don't know whether it was because of me or if it was because of Hell, but they'd come. The bad memories were terrible enough; the good ones were worse, because you know that sooner or later you'll be dragged back into the reality of endless torture. It's that feeling of knowing—knowing that you've screwed up and that there isn't a damn thing you could do about it. Knowing that the pain that you're feeling inflicted by the flames is nothing compared to the damage you've done to yourself…"

Suddenly, he realized that Phoebe had moved much closer to his place on the bed, and that she had taken his face between her soft hands. "Oh, Cole," she whispered.

He slowly turned his focus to her. And as he looked into her eyes, he saw something he thought he would never see from her again—understanding.

Her lips were gentle against his. He wasn't sure if it was he who leaned in or her—maybe it was both. But the next thing he knew, he was running his hands through her hair and she was sighing into the kiss before they leaned back on the bed.