Change of Heart
Chapter 6: Remembering
by Lilian
lilian413 at yahoo dot com
Author's Notes: Wow, Saturday sure got here fast! I'd better catch up with you guys, or soon it will have to be a new chapter every other weekend!And remember, this is the same CoH: I haven't changed the storyline, I've just added scenes here and deleted some there. So don't expect Prue to suddenly become Paige's daughter or for Cole to take up a career in can-can dancing: although I do have some curveballs heading your way in later chapters:-)
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"Are you sure about this?"
It was a dark night, the moon hiding behind the heavy winter clouds. A young woman walked down a darkened alley, her stance certain and strong. By her side stood a tall, handsome man, whose shadow cast long shapes along the sidewalls.
It was late. It was dangerous.
So were they.
"I'm sure. Piper scried, and it kept coming back to this place."
"But there's nothing here!"
Paige tried to rein in her impatience. If the scrying pendant said there was a demon in this alley, then there most certainly was a demon in this alley. Unless it teleported away before they got there. Or they had gotten the wrong alley. Or—
"Let's go over it one more time."
Cole kept an eye on her as they walked through the empty back street. He knew there was something there—could feel the demonic scent in the air. He just couldn't see it yet. Perhaps if Paige continued her diatribe, the demon would be confident enough to step off the shadows and confront them.
"But we've gone over for like four times already! I'm cold, I'm hungry and I need a bath!"
Paige's whitelighter half could feel the presence of evil. Not that she could make a difference between that particular feeling and cramps, but hey, her period wasn't due for another two weeks, so it was probably safe to say the ache in her lower belly was actually demonic-related. Still, it irked her that her own body knew things her mind could not yet truly understand. That something so basic, so primal lived within her without her knowledge. It scared her and when she was scared, she lashed out; hence her intent to try and get under Cole's skin. Sadly, Cole seemed pretty impervious to her attempts at getting him angry, almost as if he had already gone down this path before.
How close she was, Paige would never know: Cole had forgotten the number of times he had done this exact same thing with Phoebe. And he knew all about the younger Halliwells' need to pacify their inner demons, just as much as they needed to vanquish the real live ones around.
"I'll agree with you on that last thing", he told her, wrinkling his nose as if he could, in fact, smell her. Anger defused almost instantly as Paige squeaked indignantly.
"You demons and your super-senses", she said, and realized with a start that she didn't mind. Not the smelling, of course, but the demon part. Stopping in her tracks, Paige watched Cole step further into the alley, body covered in black clothes. Why did she suddenly feel as if there should be black wings sprouting off his back?
What did humans see when they looked at him? Could they see the demon lurking behind his eyes? She seriously doubted it. After all, Piper had told her once that it was Cole's half-human status that had made him the perfect weapon for the Source send against them. He could blend into the crowds with ease, but still, there was always something about him that set him apart. His eyes were too bright, his smile to broad.
And his tears too bitter, Paige mused, remembering the many nights she had heard him through the closed door of Phoe—his room. It tore at her heart, to listen to his pain; she had felt like an intruder, trespassing on something she was not meant to see. But she hadn't been able to move away, either…
She shook her head. Now was not the time to be reminiscing, she told herself, trying to make a humanoid shape out amidst the shadows of the alley. Her eyes were not as keen as Cole's, but she had better instinct when it came to spotting a demon. It was in her blood, after all.
Ever since they had accepted Leo's plan, they had been fighting evil; two witches, a demon and a whitelighter against the hundreds of demons living San Francisco. The odds would be against them has they not found that the demonic population seemed to be downsizing with dizzying speed. There was either an internal purge going on or the Source had ordered them to lay low, low enough that they no longer showed up in their scrying sessions. Which was why, when earlier that night Piper got a hit on the corner of Aguello and Corbet Street, Paige and Cole were out the door faster than you could say 'warts'.
Paige shivered, wondering if the crisp, chilly night was getting to her. Or maybe it was something else, she realized, catching a glimpse of something that looked suspiciously like blood on the wall to her left. They had been doing surprisingly well without the Elders' guidance so far, she mused, turning purposely away from the stains and walking faster into the alley, wondering just where the hell had Cole gone. She couldn't see really well in the dark and he was wearing black—it was easy for him to blend into the shadows.
She opened her mouth to call out his name when a hand shot out of the darkness and covered her lips. She fought it for just a moment before familiar blue eyes beckoned her to stand still. "Goddess, Cole", she angrily whispered to him as he drew her closer towards the wall, half-covering her with his body, "you scared the shit out of me!"
Cole said nothing. As a matter of fact, he wasn't even looking at her… his eyes were lost in the impenetrable darkness that lay further down the alley, and for the first time Paige realized that there was no natural way the alley could be this long and this dark. And now that she tried, she couldn't hear the sounds of the street any more—had some unsuspecting victim taken a shortcut home and entered this demonic lair without knowing it?
There was a tightness to Cole's face, an invisible tension that made his cheekbones stand out even more. Paige had the sudden urge to lick them, and chastised herself for letting her continuous dry spell get to her in moments such as these. Trying to push him away, she found out he was not going to move. In fact, he seemed to press down even further, almost as if—hiding her?
And then she saw it.
It coiled and churned into the darkness, a patch of black that stood out even among the shadows. She thought she caught a glimpse of red eyes but couldn't really say, because Cole chose that moment to summon an energy ball and fry the thing to oblivion. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air around them and Paige fought the urge to gag, the stench getting everywhere.
Well, there goes this outfit, she thought sadly, breathing a little easier now that Cole has moving back into his own personal space. "What was that thing?" she asked, wondering if lemons could get the putrid smell out of her hair. Because there was no way she was cutting it, she decided, fingering the long black locks with trembling fingers… she knew perfectly well what the demon was. She had seen it in the Book of Shadows, after she has resumed studying it with newfound zeal. Phoebe's death had a profound effect on Paige, even more than she realized. She poured herself into her work, letting spells and charms and demonic facts fill her head until at night, she would dream of reading the Book. It had come in handy more time that she cared to remember, but right now, her own voice was the only thing that kept the nausea at bay so she asked anyway.
"Soul Eater", came Cole's curt reply as he moved further into the alley, up to the spot where the thing had been. That's when Paige realized the shadows had not parted, she still couldn't hear the busy street behind them and oh my Goddess—"Cole, watch out!"
Her cry came just in time. With ease born out of years of training, Cole shimmered out of the way of the incoming Soul Eater, disappearing from its path and letting it harmlessly bounce of a dumpster. Cole reappeared beside her and Paige already had the potion out. Throwing it towards the mass of smoke and shadows that was the demon of the day, Paige closed her eyes at the blast that followed. There was an unholy scream and a faint smell of sulphur wafted close, and it was only when she caught the strong smell of cologne that she realized Cole had protected her from the explosion with his body, holding her close to his chest.
"If you wanted to cop a feel, all you had to do was ask."
The taunt was already out by the time she actually processed the words. Her eyes rose to catch Cole's, and in them she saw his emotions displayed: naked, raw pain swam up like a snarling beast, clawing and hacking until Paige was forced to take a step back just to avoid screaming.
She opened her mouth to apologize when her stomach decided it had had enough and turned in her belly. Retching behind some boxes, she felt rather than saw Cole make sure the thing was gone.
It was. She was sure of it. Her whitelighter senses were quiet, the howl of danger decreasing to a hum in the back of her mind. Bracing herself against the wall, Paige steeled herself and turned, noticing that the bile in her throat tasted bitter, but not as bitter as the knowledge that he had hurt Cole with her careless pick-up line.
"Cole, I—" she began, holding a hand to her still rumbling belly and another to the back of her neck, needing the touch of her own skin. He stopped her with a raised hand.
"Don't", was all he said, and Paige saw a ghost of a smile dance across his lips. It evoked a similar response in her, and when he handed her a handkerchief, she knew they had made some sort of progress.
"This is the last time I let you kill demons for me", she said, wishing she had some menthol to brush the aftertaste from her mouth and thanking him for the handkerchief. Cole shrugged his shoulders, smiling openly now, and Paige decided it was a good look on him.
"It teleported out half-way. That's why we could smell it burning the first time."
"Yeah, yeah. Still, you owe me one now. Saved you from—what was it again?"
Cole sighed. "Soul Eater."
Paige nodded, knowing the answer all along. "Yeah, that. So, should we head back?"
He took a look around the alley, noticeably several shades lighter. And, Paige thought with pleasure, full of the common sounds of the noisy streets around. Now it was just a normal – albeit smelly – alley. Realizing her stomach had still not settled down and feeling the impending threat of another bout of throwing-up, she just turned on her heels, hoping he would follow.
He did.
For four—no, make those five months they had all walked on eggshells around each other. Today had been the first time she had breached that unspoken rule and, surprisingly, had not gotten burned in the process. Did that mean they were on their way to healing the bleeding wound of Phoebe's death?
Perhaps they were. Because as they reached the car and Paige clicked the button to unlock the doors, she found a full-fledged smile dancing from her lips. Looking up at Cole across the top of the jeep, she saw a similar one on his face.
When you are able to smile again, that is when you begin to heal.
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She groaned as her body slumped against a wall; sweat matting her forehead and a frown clouding her beautiful face. She was six months along now and Prue wasn't getting any lighter. Her belly was prominent these days, making it hard to move around as she wished. Thank God the nausea was gone—she had heard frightening stories about morning sickness, and she just thanked whoever was listening that it was gone.
Fingernails curling against the rocks at her back, Phoebe bared her teeth in anger and wished she had more control over her fireballs. That way, maybe she could have blown Jhiera back to whatever hell she had crawled out of and the bitchy she-demon would finally leave her alone.
Why did Jhiera find her so damn amusing was beyond Phoebe's understanding. But the female demon had taken it upon herself to make her stay in the Underworld as uncomfortable as possible. Ever since rumor had spread that the Source had turned one of the Charmed Ones and had taken her under his protection, the demon world had been a buzz. All the upper class demons rebelled against the very idea of having her down here. When the first three of them who dared question the Source's actions were killed without an afterthought, they re-thought their approach and began attacking her instead.
"Morning sickness, dear?"
Phoebe bit back the urge to spit in Jhiera's face. That would only anger her further, and the beautiful demon seemed to carry a lot of anger around. "None of your business, darling."
She stressed the pet name, putting all her hate towards Jhiera in that simple word. "Oh but it is, my dear. Belthazor and I were very close once."
His name was still like a thorn in her side. It haunted her through the empty corridors, echoing in the walls, whispered in her ear by invisible ghosts she did not want to listen to. There was not a single demon in the Underworld who did not know her history with Belthazor. He had been a legend, after all—the witch who had turned him had her own personal legend as well. And she was one of them now, or so the Source said. Many a demon had wanted to prove that; Phoebe had lost count of how many corpses were now dust covering the floor of the Source's throne room because of her.
"And?" she asked, wishing she wouldn't have to hear what came next. Because she could guess, judging by the gleeful glint in Jhiera's eyes.
"More than close. We were intimate. For over a decade we shared beds, bodies and breath."
Her heart ached at the thought. But then she pictured the kiss, and wondered if he hadn't shared Jhiera's bed while he was with her as well. No, it couldn't be: Jhiera would not be as jealous if Cole were still coming to her. But the fact remained that he had once touched that olive skin, kissed those ruby lips—her own jealously surged forward with a strength that left her dazzled in its wake. Something must have shown in her eyes, a speckle of the anger she felt boiling within, because next thing she knew Jhiera had her by the neck and was squeezing down.
Long fingers wrapped around the delicate flesh of Phoebe's throat and they were warm as they squeezed the air out of her lungs. Phoebe gasped and wheezed, clawing at Jhiera's arms in a weak attempt to break free.
"It's his brat you carry, is it not? I should kill you were you stand."
Jhiera's voice was deep, that tone that promises your heart's desire if you would only surrender to her now. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen that made Phoebe think so, it was really hard to tell.
As Jhiera's other hand made its way across her swollen belly, Phoebe felt the stirrings of magic as her baby recognized a threat. Jhiera felt it too, and her eyes widened as she sampled a taste of the power coming from Prue. "Beautiful", Phoebe thought she heard her say and suddenly the pressure of Jhiera's hand on her throat was too much.
"Let. Me. Go."
Jhiera's purple eyes shone in the darkness with a light of their own. Phoebe found herself staring into those eyes, spun amethysts burning away in a starless sky, and saw a hatred so deep it made a shiver run down her spine.
"Make me. I will kill you, witch. Dispose of your body into the pits of Hell, and he will never know."
Phoebe knew the only reason she was still alive was because the Source had promised painful death to any who dared touch her. But, as she had come to learn, demons took threats to the word. They could not touch her, but they could – and did – hurt her. She had lost count of the times she had been forced to fight for her life, harnessing the power she was beginning to develop to the point where her fingers ached and stung. More often than not, the attempts on her life were not serious: as much as they hated her, demons were not stupid enough to defy the Source's direct command and outright kill her.
But, of all the demons who had made it a pastime to torture her, Jhiera was the one who had taken it to heart. Phoebe knew it was dangerous for her to be walking around the Underworld alone, but as she grew bigger, her training sessions grew scarcer and her room was always too small, too dark—she needed to get out, and if by doing so she risked her life, well, that was just her luck.
"My name—is Phax."
Jhiera's smile turned wider. The she-demon knew, and had not used her new name on purpose. It was a small offense compared to the things Phoebe had been forced to endure – she was still healing from the broken arm from last week – but it was somehow the one that stung the most. That other demons refused to see her as one of their own, that no matter how hard she tried to prove herself to them they always thought of her as a human made her stomach drop. Would her life always be like this? Always having to prove her worth?
Never enough, Phoebe. You are never enough.
The voice was familiar, deeply so: it took her a few seconds to realize it was her own.
Blackness began creeping at the edges of her vision and soon, Jhiera's eyes were the only thing Phoebe could really see. A stray thought sprung forth, and she wondered what the Source would think when they found her body laying there, life squeezed out of her like juice out of a ripe fruit.
Wouldn't like it one bit, the bastard.
At that point, Jhiera gasped loudly and shimmered away. Phoebe slumped onto the ground, her hand flying to her neck as she took in big gulps of air. She gasped and heaved, her body demanding oxygen, and that was how the Source's personal guard found her when he flamed in. And she understood why Jhiera had teleported away.
Sure, Jhiera hated her. But she didn't hate her enough to die for her.
"Come", was all the bodyguard said, his black skin like black pearls, reflecting off that dim light that permeated the Underworld until it made him looked darker than he really was. Phoebe did not know his name, and she wasn't sure he even had one: he was just Darkness, personal bodyguard to the Source himself.
She nodded, trying to rise from the ground, not quite making it. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest and her lungs burnt at the sudden burst of air, and she realized Darkness had already left.
As she made her way through the empty corridors, following the bodyguard's silent back, she vowed to herself that she would be stronger.
She vowed that no other would ever lay a hand on her.
What use would she be, if common demons like Jhiera could defeat her so easily? She needed to be stronger, more powerful—because when she faced Cole, her body and her mind would need to be as cold as ice and as unyielding as stone.
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When Piper was twelve, she had a garden gnome. It was small, cute and very well designed, at least to her inexperienced young eyes. Educated people barely looked at it, deeming it unworthy of their attention. But she liked it anyway and named it Mr. Pointy Hat; because it had the cutest hat you would ever see on a garden gnome. Red, shiny and pointy and a little to the side, as if telling whoever could be watching that the head under it was a real roller coaster.
Piper loved that garden gnome. She really did.
She cleaned it every Sunday, sweeping the dead leaves away from it, polishing it with a wet cloth and singing it songs that stuck in her head.
They were good friends, she and Mr. Pointy Hat. Until Prue had ran it over with Gram's car.
Mr. Pointy Hat was reduced to pieces. Plaster pebbles, spread over the front yard. She hadn't spoken to Prue for weeks after that. She had tried to put it back together, using all the kind of glues her mind could fathom... but the result was never perfect. His features were forever marred, scars running up and down his body. She had fought, trying to keep him, trying to mend him... but she learned some things were not meant to last.
But she still cried the day the garbage truck took it away.
She felt like Mr. Pointy Hat right now. Broken. Bleeding. Finished.
And yet, still fighting.
Still trying to make sense of a world that was not meant to be understood.
"We need to know what's going on down there."
It was the second time Piper had said those words. And just like the first, all the answers she got were empty stares and questioning eyebrows. "You know Cole is no longer welcome. If he shimmers down there, he will surely be killed. Remember what happened last time?"
Piper knew that. She knew that perfectly well, because she had been the one to clean Cole's wounds when he came home that night, injured in a fight against some bounty hunters who had picked up his trail. She also understood Cole was being hunted down now more than ever, the reward on his head growing bigger with each day that went by. But she really needed to know what the Source was up to.
There had been no more attacks; no more surprise hit men trying to get them. It was as if with Phoebe's death, the Source had decided they were no longer a threat and stopped caring about them all together. And it worried her. Since Prue's departure, she had taken it upon herself to protect her family. But how could she protect them when the enemy was nowhere in sight?
The last demon they had vanquished, while flames licked his body and ate away his flesh, had screamed something that still rang in her ears. And the worst thing was, it rang true.
"Your time is coming, witches. She will kill you."
She had absolutely no idea who she could be. But that spider sense that came with the Halliwell name was going off, telling her she needed to look into that further. However, neither Paige nor Cole nor Leo were feeling the same thing, and they were beginning to worry. Piper could tell by the way they talked to her, careful and slow, the way you talk to a dangerous animal.
She was certain, however, that this lack of demonic activity was only the lull before the storm hits. She knew without a doubt that they were being spied on. And despite the fact that Cole had been unable to pick up any demonic activity in the house, Piper no longer felt safe at the Manor. At night, without sunlight to color the house, Piper felt—watched. As if there were eyes on the walls, hidden behind paintings and lamps and wallpaper, on every room and every corner, watching her move about. She had lain awake many a night, listening to the house creak and moan around her, and wondered if it was more than just wood settling in the heat of the summer.
"Demons lie, Piper. Maybe what he said wasn't true."
Cole was seated on the sofa, and his long body was draped across the cushions almost as if he couldn't bear to be standing up a moment longer. The past few months had taken their toll on him, Piper could tell. There were shadows in his eyes, a tightness around his mouth that never really seemed to fade. But there he was, with them, and Piper couldn't really say what her life would be like if he wasn't there.
He was looking at her, his blue eyes looking almost green with the shirt he wore. It was always intriguing to watch; the ways his eyes would change color almost at will depending on the clothing he chose.
"Still—" she began, fighting a loosing battle against herself. Why couldn't she let it go? Why couldn't she just let it go?
Cole spoke slowly, resignation coloring his every word: "I could go down there and see if I can find anything."
Panic rose within her chest like a living thing. Before she knew it, she was sitting beside him and placing a hand on his arm, almost as if to anchor him to the couch. "No. You'll stay right where you are, mister."
Her remark was loud and clear around the usually silent room. Come to think of it, ever since Phoebe's death, they had begun talking in whispers. Quiet, hushed—as if afraid to disturb the air around them. Piper's words had been light, almost teasing… Cole did not need to look at her to see the truth: that she was afraid, deadly afraid and there was nothing they could say that would make it better.
By the fireplace, Leo and Paige looked at the two of them, something resembling envy in their eyes. They said nothing but moved almost as one, bumping into each other in the process as they tried to move closer to Piper and Cole. But Piper raised a hand, and they realized Cole had closed his eyes. Was he asleep? It was hard to tell. His breathing hadn't changed and his posture hadn't relaxed, but had any of them ever seen him sleep?
"Could you guys give us a moment?"
Piper spoke in hushed tones, but if because she thought Cole was taking a nap or because she couldn't bring herself to talk any louder, they couldn't say. So instead, Paige just nodded and dragged a reluctant Leo into the kitchen.
Leo said nothing – it was not in his nature to do so – and just slumped into a stool by the kitchen table, clutching his head in his hands. Paige knew what was wrong: she would have had to be blind not to see it. Ever since the day Leo had come back from Heaven bringing the news of Phoebe's demise, Paige had watched as Piper pushed him away and then called him back. It was sick game, one Paige wasn't certain Piper knew she was playing. But how many nights had Paige come down in the middle of the night to find Leo sleeping on the couch? She had lost count. But she had also watched, with some apprehension, as Piper and Cole drifted closer and closer. It was almost as if Piper needed to fill that empty Leo-shaped space, and she clung to whomever was near.
Pain calls for pain. And those two were like magnets to each other. Not in a romantic way, but more in the terms of partners in disgrace. Paige understood that. Once the natural protectiveness of a sister had blown over, she realized Cole was no longer a danger but a powerful ally and a trusted friend.
"Leo", she began, trying to find the words to say what she wanted to say, "Don't let it get to you."
No sound came from the living room, and Paige realized both she and Leo were straining to hear what was going on two rooms down. It was wrong, they knew it, but they also couldn't help but feel excluded at the same time. Phoebe had been a dear friend and a dear sister to them as well—what gave Piper and Cole the right to keep them out of their little grieving circle?
Paige shook her head. Now was not the time for childish pettishness. Different people mourned in different ways—it just happened to be that Piper and Cole had bonded over Phoebe's death in a way that made her a little bit jealous.
"I know that, Paige. I've known that for a long time."
It surprised her to hear the amount of resentment in Leo's voice. It was thick with it, so much so that it seemed to be about two octaves lower than it usually was. She sat in the stool opposite of where he sat, trying to look into his eyes. He avoided her gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in the wooden spoon laying a few inches to his left.
"You have to understand, she's just reaching out."
It was strange having to defend Piper to her own husband – shouldn't Piper be sitting here, having this discussion with Leo? – but she did it anyway. It was what sisters did, she told herself, knowing Piper was nowhere near ready to face her inner demons just yet. Probably why she kept saying there were demons in the house…
Leo shook his head, brushing a hand across his sand-colored hair. "Why can't she reach out to me, then?"
What should have come out as a whiny, egotistical statement actually managed to break Paige's heart. And this time she didn't stop herself and taking Leo's hand in hers, gave it a friendly squeeze. "Because some part of her, some part she's not even aware of, blames you for this."
It was as if her words had struck Leo physically. He removed his hand from hers as if burnt, and his wild eyes met hers across the kitchen table. Before he could express his indignation, Paige raised a hand – in a gesture so similar to the one Piper had made just a few minutes ago that the family resemblance was uncanny – and continued: "Bear with me here. You brought home the news of Phoebe's death. Remember how she would cry herself to sleep when Prue died? Blaming herself for you healing her first instead of Prue? It's the same thing now."
Paige was witness to the struggle within Leo's mind: if there was anyone whose eyes were windows to his soul, it was Leo. She saw him fighting his jealousy, his anger, everything that made him human and that, as a whitelighter, had been forced to push down time and time again. She saw a husband watching his wife drift away, powerless to do anything, into the arms of another man.
"You know it's not love. At least not in the way you think it is."
It felt so very strange saying these things to Leo… he was many years her senior – everyone at the house had heard the stories of his time as a hippie – and usually, it was the other way around: Leo was the one giving them advice. He was their whitelighter and more than that, her friend. But now the roles were reversed and Paige was the one giving Leo insight into what was going on. Perhaps that saying was true, Paige thought, that you cannot see the forest because of the trees. She sought Leo's hands again and this time, he didn't move away,
"She needs to hold on to something and Cole is in just as much pain as she is right now. She's pushed you away and now needs support, Leo."
Before Leo could say anything, a cry came from the living room, Piper's voice high and quivering: "Why? Why did she have to die!"
Leo rose, ready to go to his wife, but Paige held him back. She shook her head, surprised at the contained strength in Leo's body as he remained taut and ready to bolt the second Paige loosened her grasp. "Don't. You'll only push her further away."
Something in the way she said it must have struck a chord in him, because he relaxed, letting all that energy leave his body. But he didn't sit back down. Instead, he remained standing by the table, arms crossed over his chest and a sudden understanding in his blue eyes.
It was as if all that anger, all that jealousy had fled from his mind. It is wake, only love remained.
Paige just wished she could do that as well.
.
Cole opened his eyes as soon as Leo's footsteps faded into the background, so when Piper turned to look back at him, her eyes clashed with his own.
They remained in silence for a long while, not quite looking at each other and yet still so very aware of the other's presence in the living room. They were less than three feet apart, so when Cole rose from the couch and strode towards the window, Piper caught a whiff of his cologne. It sparked feelings inside of her, feelings very similar to the ones inspired by the sight of her mother's picture or Gran's kilt at the foot of her bed.
They had never really talked about what had happened in Phoebe's room. Truth to be told, Piper didn't quite remember it, the pain still clouding her memories of the first days after Phoebe's death. But what she did remember was that Cole had been there for her. And also a nagging sense that there were some unresolved issues between them that if not dealt with now, would grow slowly, mounting off into something they did not want.
But she wasn't ready yet. It would be too blunt to bring it up like that, out of the blue.
"You know I won't let you go", she said, picking up the conversation where they had left off. It was easy, to fall into this pre-existent dialogue, and perhaps that was the way to broach the subject she really wanted to talk about.
His eyes were fixed on the window, watching absently as the soft breeze blew the curtains back and forth and the sun shone through the open glass. "I know." His voice was—defeated. Almost as if he was just playing along to humor her. Perhaps he was, Piper mused, or perhaps he just couldn't bring himself to care any more.
Piper found herself speaking before she could really weight her own words: "Then why do you insist?" She realized she needed to know; she needed to know why he stuck around. What was it about them that kept Cole grounded?
"Because I have to."
She sighed and ran a nervous hand through her long ponytail. That was not the answer she was looking for. "No you don't."
That got her a reaction. His eyes snapped open and drew her in, the fiery depths of blue-green burning her even from across the room. "Yes I do." She remained rooted on the spot, caught like a deer under the light of the oncoming train, unable to look away. He wasn't finished, she could tell. Something else wanted to come out, there was another reason all together—
"I promised her I would keep you safe."
And many things made sense, because Piper suddenly understood the driving force behind Cole's almost fatherly concern. The twinge of disappointment stung, a razor-sharp pain that burned on the edge of her tongue.
Prue had always looked after then. Prue had kept them safe. She sometimes forgot Phoebe worried as well. The idea that Phoebe had seen this coming, had known Cole would outlive her and took the safekeeping of her family into her own, young hands, suddenly became too much. Her eyes welled up as they hadn't done in months, because her little sister, her little baby sister—Goddess, it still hurt!
She covered her face with her hands, trying to keep the sobbing from rocking her thin frame. "Why? Why did she have to die?" She didn't know who she was talking about: Prue or Phoebe. Perhaps both, or perhaps neither. How many women had her family sacrificed for the greater good? Her mother, her grandmother, both her sisters… why did any of them had to die?
Only when she felt Cole's warmth radiating from his body, only then did she realize he had approached her. His strong arms came around her waist and déjà vu washed all over her. She let the tears out and slammed her fists against his chest, as angry as she was sad.
"I can't answer that."
Her crying didn't last long. She had few tears left and they dried out quite quickly. She remained there though, within his arms, breathing heavily. Silence settled upon the room, as Witch and Demon brought down their carefully built walls and shared the pain of loosing a loved one. Because they each had loved her, in different ways, with different intensity—but loved her still.
As a sister. As a soul mate.
As the wonderful person she had been and how much the world had lost when she died.
"Piper—do you—do you remember what happened that day?" Cole's voice trembled slightly, the feeling of loss fresh and anew, as if it had happened only yesterday and not six months ago. She took her time to answer.
"Just—just flashes."
He sighed loudly, his chest rising and falling under her cheek. "Because I—I want you to know I don't regret it."
Piper looked up at him, drawn by the gentle trembling in his words. She stared deep into his eyes, swimming across the storms that brewed within and looked— it all came back to her like a dream, like a long lost memory, rising through her own confusion, trough her own pain—it came out in a rush and she panted at the sheer force of remembrance.
She remembered his lips, strong and passionate, above her own. She remembered his powerful body next to hers, keeping her close, keeping her steady. She remembered his scent, around her, inside her…
She remembered kissing him.
A faint blush crept upon her cheeks as she realized she had just remembered her first and only slip in her marriage to Leo. But had it really being cheating? She had been thinking about him the whole time—had tried to feel Leo's skin under her fingers, Leo's lips under her own, Leo's support holding her up...
"I don't regret it either", she found herself saying, cupping his face in her hands and placing a tender, innocent kiss on his cheek. He let her do it, not moving away but not moving closer either. She understood why—he had carried that weight, that burden for the both of them. Now, after sharing it with her again, he didn't know what to do. She sometimes forgot Cole had been raised in a demonic world, where there was no place for emotions as strong as these. It was only natural that he was uncertain as to what to do with them—he had suppressed them for so long he couldn't really deal with them anymore.
"But I still love Ph—" he paused, took a deep breath and then continued, "I still love her."
She smiled slowly, knowing how hard it was for him to admit it.
"I know. And I still love him."
His eyes seemed to clear out, the weight of the secret he had been carrying around for months finally out. Who knew what thoughts had gone through Cole's mind during that time? Whatever the case, they were no longer an issue, Piper thought, watching as Cole returned her grin with one of his own.
It was then that they finally became a family. When all feelings were sorted out and all secrets were exposed that the last of the barriers keeping them apart fell down and allowed them to come together.
"Piper?" She loved the way he said her name. It was the way a brother would say it, and she had only had sisters until then…
"Yes?"
"I didn't give you a complete answer before."
He seemed suddenly bashful, almost ashamed. She said nothing, knowing that sometimes, things need to come out on their own: "My promise to her is not the only reason I stuck around."
She paused, blinked and had to ask: "It isn't?"
Cole shook his head. He seemed to struggle to find the words, almost as if he didn't know what he was going to say, but Piper knew that was not the case. It was just that he was fighting years of programming, forcing his human side out to merge with the demonic side he was more comfortable with.
"You—I don't—I don't want anything happening to you. Or your family."
That warm, tingly feeling right there? It made Piper's smile turn even wider and this time, she was one doing the hugging. "It's your family too, silly demon", she whispered against his shirt and she was certain he heard her anyway. When he returned the hug, it was with everything he had and just for a moment there, Piper wondered about what it must be like to be on the opposite side of such a powerful, passionate man. But then her curiosity faded as Leo's face came to her and she realized she had a lot to make up for.
"We should go get them."
"Yeah, we should. Leo's probably thinking I'm having an affair with you."
They both grinned at that and they broke apart.
And still in an intangible, invisible sort of way, they stayed together.
Linked.
Powerful.
'United we stand, divided we fall'
.
.
Tbc...
