A Wrong Day's Journey Into Right
The night after the incident on the train, Milton had a nightmare, which he had had before. A blonde woman was running away from him, across a desert plane. She was in office wear – white shirt, black skirt. It was Jenny. Milton tried to catch up with her but he was always blocked by trees - hundreds of trees groping at him, tripping him up. Why were there no trees around her? And as he would just begin to reach her, he would reach out for her shoulder and she would turn around and he didn't know her. It wasn't Jenny, it was somebody else or maybe it was Jenny and he simply didn't recognise her. Either way, he was struck with the fear that he had lost her.
Milton woke up with a start. The reason for this is, of course, that one always wakes up from nightmares with a start. Or, at least, if one wakes up during a nightmare, it is with a start. He closed his eyes tightly and told himself out loud that it was only a dream. Nonetheless, he still struggled to shake the feeling of unease as he walked into the bathroom. The problem for Milton was that so many of his nightmares were not dreams but memories replaying themselves when he couldn't distract himself – the desert, the jungle, the symbols.
He rifled through the bathroom cabinet, looking for some aspirin. Finding none there, he went to his wife's bed side table. He tried to open the drawer but it was locked. He knew where the key was. Milton could not understand why Jennifer insisted on locking this draw. When the issue was raised, she always dismissed it -sometimes with jokes, sometimes with annoyance. 'A marriage can only survive if either partner is allowed their secrets.' He only wanted an aspirin.
He turned the little key in the drawer lock and opened it. Some make-up, some chocolate, a small, padlocked book that looked like a diary, her pill (Milton prickled) and a spare tampon. Milton pushed some of the make-up aside to check that no painkillers could be lurking underneath. As he did so, his watch caught on the lining of the drawer. He tried to pull it away but pulled up the attached layer of board instead. Then Milton started for the second time that day. Underneath the top layer of the drawer was another compartment, filled with small glass bottles. They were identical to those Milton had seen on the jungle floor. These, however, were not broken. Each was filled with a different coloured liquid. There wasn't a single space in the drawer. A thin layer of dust suggested they had gone untouched for a long time. Milton picked up one of the bottles and looked at it; clear, still liquid. He opened it and stuck his nose over the top - scentless. He picked up two more and repeated his experiment. One was gloopier and smelt slightly of herbs. The other had an acidic smell that made him splutter when he sniffed it. A car door slammed outside. Flustered, Milton put the bottles back and closed the drawer, forgetting about the aspirin.
Melinda Halliwell suffered from car sickness. Even so, she had travelled the entire breadth of the country, from Brown to her home in San Francisco, by coach. This decision makes even less sense when you know that Melinda Halliwell had a family full of whitelighters. In fact, without the knowledge that she could be back home within the blink of an orb, her mother would never have let her move so far away. In the last few years though, this distance had become a relief, allowing her to avoid the bubble of grief that her once happy family home had become.
She had drifted in and out of the waking world for several hours, each time opening her eyes to find she was on a different highway, with different scenery, mountains, desert land, lush, farm land. But during her sleep she saw only one place – home. The golden gate bridge, the street that she grew up in, the funny, red house where her parents lived, the club her brother ran, her mum and dad.
And as the coach headed north up route 101, a different sort of nausea rose in Melinda's stomach - a sickness that wasn't caused by the motion of the bus. It was caused by the house and the club and the bridge. Home wasn't safe anymore. Grief had infiltrated the Halliwell manor in a way that demons never could. Eventually though the dread of going home was eclipsed by the anxiety of being away and bags had been packed, notice had been given and a bus ticket had been purchased.
After Milton had walked through the jungle for two weeks, he came across a river. He might have been expected to dive in it, to laugh or to cry but he just stood there, shocked. For two weeks, despair had reigned Milton's heart and now he was unsure how to cope with this hope. Unable to collapse into the relieving waters, he instead trudged alongside, knowing that eventually rivers lead to people. But Milton did not find people down stream. At least, not in the way that he had expected.
What Milton found was a black memorial stone. His eyes were too weak to read the words or make out the picture. Milton didn't know who this was but he didn't need to. A stone like this reminded him of people, of caring, of loss. A stone like this reminded him of who he was. He did not know his name or his past but seeing this grave stone reminded him that he was alive.
For a while, Milton sat and hugged himself with relief. Then he stood up and bathed in the river.
Piper Halliwell had cooked dinner for her family. Everybody was supposed to be there but they weren't. Instead, Piper was left with her two sisters sat loyally at her dinner table.
Phoebe munched on her food, over enthusiastically, 'mmm. This is really delicious, Piper.'
'Yeah,' Paige added, 'thanks, Piper. This is great.' Piper smiled glumly. They continued their meal in silence.
'So, where's Leo?' Paige asked.
'He's working.' The conversation was polite, as you'd expect between acquaintances, not sisters, especially not these sisters. Phoebe looked at her sister sympathetically. Piper scowled and looked away. She hated the way her sisters looked at her, as though any moment she might break down. Truth be told, if anything were likely to make her break down, it would be these looks. Walking round the local neighbourhood, Piper felt as though she had a long, black, mourning gown on, with its tails trailing behind her. In reality, she rarely mentioned Wyatt and asked for no comfort or sympathy.
Paige chewed her food slowly. She knew that Piper's cooking was excellent but eating with her sisters made everything taste like grit. At meal times like these, she felt like an only child again. When Wyatt first died, they had been able to comfort Piper, share in her grief. They were still a family, united in their loss. Now, a year later, Phoebe and Paige were ready to move on – the pain had eased and they could think of Wyatt with pleasure. Piper, however, was facing the slow and painful grind of day to day life without her son. For perhaps the first time in their lives, sisterly love was not enough.
Since, the incident on the train, Milton had noticed the same tramps a minimum of five times. Considering that he had travelled the same route everyday for a year and never seen either of them, this seemed odd. 'You've probably just never noticed them – that doesn't mean they weren't there,' he told himself. But on Monday, a week later, he became quite sure they were following him. When the train pulled up next to the platform, he got on as usual. And, sure enough, they got on as well, two carriages along. This time though Milton waited for thirty seconds and then got off. He coughed as he did so in order that they wouldn't miss it. They didn't. Alarm flickered across their faces and then they grinned, waved and rolled away with the train. For a moment, Milton stood on the platform perplexed but then turned, shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled away. He knew he'd been being silly.
Turning the corner out of the station, however, Milton was shocked to notice the same two men scurrying into a shop across the road.
'Hey!' He shouted and ran towards them. They hurried away. As they did so, a small, glass bottle fell out of Milo's coat pocket. It smashed and fumed. TJ glanced at it briefly but ran on. Milton, his head racing nearly as fast as his feet tried to catch up with them but as they turned another corner, he lost them. Cursing, he bent over to catch his breath. He didn't know who they were and he couldn't guess but one thing became increasingly obvious to Milton, Jenny would know.
All three Halliwell sisters looked up as they heard someone coming in the front door. With so many whitelighters about, it was an unusual sound in the manor. They looked towards the door. It opened and a girl with dark blonde hair, little features and a face that couldn't quite decide if it was round or square walked in.
'Hi!' Phoebe jumped up and embraced the girl in a hug, the first to welcome back her niece. Melinda, caught by surprise at the lump rising in her throat, grinned and bit furiously at her tongue.
'Hey.' Paige stood up, following suit. 'Welcome back.' Melinda couldn't manage to say anything so she hugged her aunts happily.
'Hi honey.' Piper's voice was soft and motherly, without the energy of the two aunts. She walked over to her daughter slowly and wrapped her arms around her. Melinda's eyes filled up, she fought the tears back, grinning even more idiotically to try and stop the lump exploding.
'Hi,' she squeaked. Piper closed her eyes, relieved to have at least one child back under her roof. For a moment, she clung onto her daughter but then quickly pulled away so that Melinda would never realise it was clinging not hugging. 'I've missed you,' she whispered.'
'Me too,' Melinda's voice cracked. Phoebe and Paige beamed.