SEVEN

"Phoebe, are you sure you're okay," Peter finally managed to ask. "I mean there wasn't a body or a service right?"

"No, there wasn't," she said distractedly. "But if you would really like to say good-bye there is a place that would be as close to perfect as we are going to get."

Peter was still confused. It didn't appear that he'd overtaxed her emotions with his questions, but he couldn't imagine what she was talking about.

"Phoebe…" he began.

She heard the hesitancy in his voice and realized that she must sound a bit crazy to him right now. After all, he didn't know. She really needed to get to work, so she didn't have time to fully explain. And right now she just needed to know if he wanted to do this.

"Oh, Peter. I'm sorry I know I've confused you and I don't have time to explain right now. Look, are we agreed that there isn't really anyone but the two of us to mourn your father's death?"

"Yes."

"Would you like a chance to say good-bye to him? I know I would and I can't think of anyone better to share that with than you."

He took a deep breath. It was something he needed, even wanted to do. And there was no denying that the woman before him was probably the only living soul who could understand that. Who needed it as badly as he did. Looking into her expectant eyes, Peter decided that whatever she thought she had come up with was better than where they both were right now.

"I want that chance Phoebe. I think it will be good for both of us," he said finally.

"Good," Phoebe smiled. " Do you have some time, say tomorrow around sunset?"

"Yes, but…"

"Just trust me Peter," Phoebe slipped her arm through his and led him to the front door. " Everyone else will be at the club tomorrow evening, so you meet me here. I'll explain everything then. And Peter, if there's anything you would like him to have bring it with you."

Peter shook his head as they stopped in the entryway. He didn't have a clue as to what she had in mind. But what harm could there be in going along with it.

"Okay. If you don't mind, I think I'll shimmer from here. There's someplace I'd like to go."

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Phoebe watched him shimmer out and grinned to herself. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of this before. Then again, perhaps she just hadn't allowed herself to. They could say good-bye to Cole and Peter would even have the chance to learn something else about his father. She was ready to face the day with a heart that was far lighter than it had been in some time.

Peter shimmered into the silence of the penthouse. For a moment he just stood, letting himself absorb the reality that he wouldn't find his father here. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't be disturbed as Angelique had already come and gone. He supposed the reason he had come here shouldn't feel so strange to him. Even the Darklighter had sought a memento of his father.

Running a finger through the dust on a small table next to him, he tried to decide where best to begin his search. After but a moments hesitation it came to him, the bedroom. It seemed to be the room that held the most of who Cole had been.

When he entered the room, Peter realized that Angelique had left the nightstand drawer open after her search. He padded over intending to close it. When he reached the side of the bed his eyes fell to the photo resting on top of the stand. He sank to the edge of the bed heavily. It was the picture that his father had held so tightly the last time he had seen him. He reached out to pick up the smiling image of Cole and Phoebe in a happier time.

As he did so, his eyes fell to the open drawer. It wasn't the common items that caught his attention, so much as the seemingly odd items. His father's nightstand reminded him less of something belonging to a successful attorney than it did of the drawer of a small boy. The photo forgotten, Peter began to rummage curiously.

Next to the watch he would have expected, Peter spotted a small plastic bag. His eyes widened a bit when, lifting it, he realized that it held seashells. He smiled in spite of himself.

"Now where did you come by these and why did you keep them?" the wondering question floated into the emptiness.

A folder beneath the odds and ends caught his eye. Peter set the bag of shells down gently and fished it out of the stand. He could only shake his head in amazement at the contents. Why wouldn't he keep these things in a safe deposit box?

The answer came to Peter as he thumbed through the contents. Cole's law degree, his birth certificate, a copy of his marriage certificate to Phoebe. You wanted these close to you didn't you?

Setting the folder down, Peter returned to his search of the drawer. As he reached toward the back, his hand encountered something that felt like a picture. He thought he'd dropped something from the folder when he'd removed it. Intending to replace it, he pulled it from the drawer. But nothing could have prepared him for what he held in his hand.

The air caught in his lungs as he found himself staring down into a sepia hued photo. A photo of Cole and his mother. Peter knew the picture. He had the same one. It had been all that Angela had left of Cole. This copy was worn and dog-eared, but unmistakably the same picture. In the last place in the world he would have expected to see it.

Peter closed his eyes briefly and forced his lungs to work again. Carefully, almost reverently he gathered the shells, the folder and the worn photograph. Closing the drawer, he rose from the bed and took a final look around the room.

"Seems you were just full of surprises old man." And with his treasures in hand, he shimmered out of the penthouse amid the echo of his own words.

The sky was awash in the violet and pink swirls of sunset as Phoebe pulled the car to a stop near the west end of the cemetery gates. The drive had been a silent one; each of them lost in their own thoughts. Peter gazed around curiously as Phoebe shut the engine off.

"A cemetery?" he questioned. " I know that memorial services are usually held in cemeteries Phoebe, but didn't we already establish that that wasn't really possible in this case?"

"It's possible. I think you'll even agree that it's appropriate once you understand. Come on, I'll explain while we walk."

"You know, Phoebe, even if the Halliwell's have a monument here, I'm not sure I could agree that this is appropriate," he told her as they walked through the family tombs and monuments.

"Not the Halliwells," Phoebe said as she came to halt at the wrought iron door of a mausoleum. "Your grandfather."

"My what?" Peter asked, his eyes darting between the burial chamber and Phoebe's face.

"Your grandfather Peter. Benjamin Turner, your father's father is buried here," she indicated the mausoleum. " Cole used to say this was the second safest place he knew. I learned about it when he was on the run from the demonic bounty hunters. "

"Only my father would consider a cemetery a safe haven. What was the safest place he knew, hell?" Peter snorted at his attempt at humor.

"No. The safest place he knew was with me," Phoebe told him sadly. " It always made sense that this was a good place to hide, it was more difficult for demons to sense him in a cemetery. But when I discovered through a premonition that this was his father's resting place, well I knew it was more than that. It was a monument to Cole's only link to his human heritage."

Phoebe's grip on the small bag she held tightened. She reached for the door and glanced at Peter with a small shrug.

"Here, with his father, seemed a fitting place to say good-bye to your father."

Peter followed her into the dim chamber with a tiny nod, unable to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. He stood quietly to the side as Phoebe knelt and brushed the dust from the brass nameplate.

"Hi Cole," she whispered to the shadows. " I brought someone to see you. I figured that if you are safe anywhere it would be here and I want to believe that you are honey. I couldn't save you and you couldn't save yourself, but Lord we sure tried didn't we. I love you, no matter what happened and I just wanted you to know that," Phoebe's voice broke and she struggled to go on.

"I brought you some things to remember the good times by. "

She reached into the bag and removed three small items. She laid the first on top of the sarcophagus.

"Remember Paris? I saved the petals from the rose. I brought you part of them."

"And the day at the photo booth," she laughed as she laid the small picture down as well, " we were so silly that day."

"Remember this?" she set a tiny silver teddy bear on top of the photograph. " You gave me the set the same time you gave me that giant stuffed bear. I know it was you and not the Source who did that Cole. I thought you might like to have one. I love you and I wish we could have had children together."

Phoebe stood up and stepped back, brushing a tear from her face.

"I'm sorry we didn't make it. Good-bye Cole."

As he watched her turn away, Peter found himself fighting the betrayal of tears. He wasn't sure he could do this.

"Phoebe," he croaked.

She smiled at him, understanding without the need of the words being spoken.

"You can do it Peter. I'll wait for you in the car okay."

Peter stood like an awkward statue for several moments after she left. Trying to figure out how and where to begin.

"Well, Damn," he cursed into the silence. "Trust me old man, this isn't a scene I ever envisioned. I went by your place, when I found out what happened. Your Darklighter was there, collecting something to remember you by. You know I'm mad as hell that you did this. But I think I understand," Peter's attempt to hide behind bravado began to slip.

"I, um, took some things myself. I didn't think you'd mind under the circumstances. And I brought some things for you too."

Peter laid the small plastic bag of shells next to Phoebe's items.

"I'm not sure why you kept those, but they were special for some reason. I just thought you might like to have them. And this," he shook his head. "Well I sure didn't expect you to have it. But then again, you've been surprising me a lot lately. Anyway, I already have a copy and this one was yours," Peter finished quietly laying the dog-eared picture gently under the edge of the shells.

He ran his hand restlessly through his hair.

"I know it's too late to really know you now. It's a pretty lousy way to finally understand what you meant about regrets. But I want you to know that I think I would have liked to have known you better. And trust me, this isn't a mistake I'll make again."

Peter swallowed hard and gazed at the little shrine they had created. Then he reached up and released the clasp on a silver chain that hung around his neck.

"This is my high school class ring. You weren't there for that part of my life, but if it hadn't been for some of the things I got from you, well, I might never have made it that far. I want you to have it."

Peter laid the ring and chain down and turned to go. At the door he turned back, wiping away the tears he couldn't restrain.

"You know, I think I could have loved you if we'd had the chance."

"Good-bye Dad," he whispered as he turned and walked away.

The End

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