Oops! I forgot to do a disclaimer in the first chapter. However, you all know that the television show "Charmed" and all of its characters are copyrighted by Spelling Television, Inc., a subsidiary of Spelling Entertainment Group, Inc., don't you?

Paige said a four-letter word, then glanced over guiltily at the elderly couple one table away.

"It was, bar none, the stupidest thing I've ever done. I had all kinds of excuses at the time. My grandmother had just died, we were sorting out her estate. Piper and I gave up our apartment and moved back into the family home, and I thought at least there'd be no rent to pay, but I hadn't figured on the costs of insurance and maintenance – it's an old house. Piper was doing her best to help, but she was just starting out in her career, not making much money. My baby sister had just dropped out of college and was basically doing nothing with her life, I was worried about her.

"I had just got a job that paid really well, but it was the only time in my life that I ever worried about whether I could do the job well enough. I knew I could be great at it given some time, but the household was running on my income, and I was scared to death that I wouldn't get good enough fast enough. I couldn't burden Piper with this – she's such a sweet insecure little thing, if I was worried about anything, she'd have figured it was all her fault." Prue paused, shook her head. "Like I say, excuses. As far as I could see, the only bright spot was that my boss was a cute guy who seemed sympathetic."

Paige gave a low, knowing laugh.

"He seemed really self-confident, and with the state I was in at the time, it just seemed great that he was interested in me, and wanted to support my career. How is it possible that I never realized what a jerk he was?"

"When you get to feeling like that," Paige said, "you see what you want to see. If you're on something, that makes it easier."

"Well, I wasn't at the time. But one day I dragged in, I'd been up all night researching antiquities, and Roger came in with a busload of energy. And told me how he managed it. I knew it was stupid, I want you to know, I'm not dumb, I knew it was a stupid thing to try. But I figured that otherwise my other bosses would see how wiped out I was and they'd think I wasn't up to the job. I thought, OK, I'll use it to get me over this rough patch and then quit before I get addicted."

"How long – "

"About four months. During which time I got a raise, got engaged to Roger, accused my sister Phoebe of making a pass at him and had such a huge screaming fight that she moved clear across the country, almost got fired because of my behavior toward a major donor, and ran my car into a lamppost. The weird thing is, it was a little unspectacular moment that woke me up. I had just finished taking a pill, I mean literally just finished swallowing, and I realized that I was already looking forward to the next one. And I thought, all right, this is just going to get worse. I took a week off work and told Piper I was exhausted and taking some time to work through my emotional issues, and shut myself in my room."

"My God, woman. You could've died."

"I hadn't been that heavy of a user until just before then. I think that's what saved me. But yes. It was awful – physically, mentally, emotionally. It was the worst time of my life, except for the time my mom died and the time my dad took off. It was even worse than the time my grandmother died, because I knew the speed thing was my own damn fault, whereas I couldn't have done anything about Grams – she kept her heart problem to herself."

"Runs in the family, huh?"

Prue smiled wryly. "Yeah. And that's my point. If I were able to go back now and tell myself something, it would be to get some help. Even if I couldn't bear to tell Piper and Phoebe, tell someone. Get support. Get advice from people who've been there. Call a doctor. Tell everyone you're going on vacation and check into rehab. Don't try doing it alone. It's too miserable, and it's too dangerous. Talk to someone."

"OK." Paige finished off her coffee with a quick swig. "You want talk, I'll give you talk. But I have to tell you, everyone I've said this to is stumped. They just basically say, well, uh, you should care about yourself. Which doesn't help much when you're having cravings. Wanna hear it?"

Prue smiled the small smile of the truly self-confident fighter. "Hit me."

"Why should I get sober? It's obvious why you had to – your sisters needed you, you had a responsible job where people were depending on you. But me," she shrugged, "if I died tomorrow, they'd just plug another secretary into my place. My aunt and uncle would feel bad, of course, but I'm not a huge part of their lives. My friends are all miles away or bad for me. I don't have a boyfriend, much less a husband or kids. No brothers or sisters. No parents. I know it sounds whiny, but when I'm really needing a drink it just sounds like plain fact to me: It doesn't matter if I sober up. If I dropped into the ocean tomorrow, there wouldn't even be a ripple."

Prue shook her head. "You have a very tough row to hoe."

Paige looked down at her empty plate. "Not the worst in the world."

"No. But it is tough. Well, to begin with, you should care about yourself."

Paige gave a one-syllable laugh. "Yeah."

"Second, your parents do care about you. Just because you can't see or hear them doesn't mean they don't care desperately. They're worried about your problem and rooting for you to make it through."

"Yeah. I kind of believe in an afterlife sometimes too, but sometimes – "

"Believe it. Trust me. They know about you and they care deeply. But that's not even the main reason why you should stay sober."

"OK, what's the main reason?"

"We need you."

"Who?"

"All of us. Look at it this way. If America were attacked by a powerful country tomorrow, and every citizen had to be mobilized to take some kind of part in the defense effort, you'd understand why you're needed. Because that organized, open call to arms isn't there, you think you're not.

"But there is an attack going on – and you know it, probably better than most. It has nothing to do with nations. The entire human race is constantly under attack by evil – and evil does exist, you're going to have to trust me on that one too. Fear's attacking us as well, that may do more damage than evil. The fact that human beings are the weapons, as well as the victims, doesn't give any of us an excuse for not doing our part. There are so many people who've been victims in the attack already – criminals, suicides, drug addicts. People so lost or so – maimed, that it takes all their effort just to get from day to day. And that, Paige, leaves the rest of us to carry on the fight.

"We may not feel special, and we may feel pretty lost ourselves. But the world, the human race, needs every ounce of our courage, every ounce of our love and goodwill, every ounce of knowledge, anything we have to give. We cannot afford the luxury of saying we'll just let go. We are under attack. Anyone we might ever care about is under attack. People worth saving are under attack. We have to fight."

For a long moment Paige stared into Prue's eyes. Then her gaze dropped, as if she were thinking it over.

Then she said slowly, "You might be right."

Prue just let her think, and after a moment Paige laughed. "Even if I can't really see myself as the rescuer of the innocent."

Prue smiled. Then she said, "Every single Rosie the Riveter was needed. Heck, every single rivet was needed."

"Yeah." Paige looked back up, meeting Prue's eyes. "Yeah, you're right. That'll help. We all have to do our bit in the fight. I can't go AWOL and assume that someone else will pick up my slack."

"Exactly."

"Man, I've gotta tell you, though, I am going to miss P3. It's almost like my second home now. Maybe I can come back someday, when I can trust myself more, and we can, you know, have a virgin margarita together?"

"Better yet. You stay away from P3 or any nightclub, bar sort of place, and stay sober, for one year, and not only will I buy you a virgin margarita at P3, I'll have you over for dinner. Piper used to be a chef, you know. She's a really good cook."

Paige's smile gleamed, and she looked as if she were going to float out of the booth with elation. "You're on. I hope you mean it, 'cause I'm going to hold you to it."

"Keep my phone number. Call me when you need to. Just because we don't get together at P3 doesn't mean there aren't lots of other places. Or we can just talk on the phone."

Paige smiled, put Prue's card into an inner, zippered pocket of her purse, and said, "I will."

One of two things would happen, Prue figured. Either Paige would call her twice a day every day, or she'd never hear from her again.

But she was surprised. Two weeks passed without a call, and then, when Prue was on a date one night, her cell phone rang. Paige was in distress. At the social services agency where she worked, she had been helping on a case involving a pair of abusive parents, and it was making her crazy. She wanted to hit both of them and, since she couldn't do that, she desperately wanted to drink herself into numbness. Prue briefly explained what was happening to her date, slipped off to the women's room, and talked Paige down until the exhaustion from her emotional state kicked in and she told Prue she wanted to sleep. Feeling a little better, Prue went back to her date, who was royally ticked off. However, all things considered, it was good to know which guys respond well to unexpected emergencies and which don't.

She called Paige back then next morning from a deli where she was grabbing a bagel, and was delighted to hear the girl's voice – clear, enthusiastic, and busy at work.

A few months later her cell phone rang as she was setting up a photo shoot. "Prue Halliwell."

"Prue? I don't know if you remember me. This is Paige Matthews."

"Of course I remember you!" she said, actually physically kicking herself. She'd been so busy that she hadn't called Paige, although she'd thought about it. "How are you doing?"

"Hangin' in there. Just thought I'd call. It's six months, you know."

"Six – " And then she remembered. "Oh, my God, you're right. That's so great, Paige! Congratulations! Want to meet me at the coffee shop to celebrate?"

"Actually I'm having dinner with a couple of friends tonight. Believe it or not."

"I do believe it. That's so great, Paige."

"I just – Do you remember our deal?"

"Absolutely. You stay sober for a year, I buy you a soda at P3 and have you over for a Piper Halliwell feast."

Paige laughed a little breathlessly. "Tell her she can plan the menu. I'm going to be there."

Prue was ashamed of the squirm in the pit of her stomach, but it was there, and she had to do something about it. "I'll be looking forward to it. Will you do me a favor?"

TO BE CONTINUED