Oni-Gil: Humph.
Catreddick4: It is not over...
Aussie-Soccerfreak4: I kinda figured "'bugger it" is an Aussie phrase! I'm proud that my story made you cry...
Kings Lioness: Ah...I supposed that it happened then, because Kate is really dead...like, dead and gone. But I'm glad you're anticipating the sequel...
Dr. Magic PhD: You will find out what the greater good is in the next volume...
A/N: Final chapter of The Choice of Eight. Do not despair, fans of the Millers and Halliwells. Their story is a long way from finishing...
-31-
Three weeks later on a cold, rainy, foggy afternoon, a flock of people clothed in black stood around a single hole in the grounds of the local cemetery, close together, sheltering under umbrellas and snuggling under cloaks and jackets. While empty now, the gaping hole was soon going to be occupied by a sleek white casket. Rain dripped off he polished, carved surface as it was lowered slowly into the ground with the help of a half-dozen men.
The three black-swathed and cloaked forms standing closest to the grave huddled closer together underneath a large, black umbrella. Standing in the middle, holding the umbrella up, was a woman with long brown hair and a smooth, tan face now wet with rain and tears. One arm was around a younger woman, whose blond hair was tied back in a French bride laced with black ribbon. Her normally bright blue eyes were dull with hopelessness and grief as her shoulders shook slightly, but she did not make a noise, even when she wept. On the other side, her auburn hair pulled back softly into a half-ponytail held with a brown clip, was the other sister, no longer the third-born, but now the middle child. A single tear slid silently down her cheek as she gripped her sister's arm in her own, watching as person after dark-clothed person drifted forward and dropped flowers into the ominous hole in the earth that was now occupied by their sister.
One by one, the other funeral-goers passed the three sisters, offering a solemn handshake, leaning in to kiss a cheek and brush aside a tear, offering condolences and sympathy. Though the three woman accepted each act and action, they made no further move nor sound.
Minutes crawled by, and still people filed by, but the sisters' eyes remained on the flower-strewn coffin in front of them. Finally, the final man had placed a gentle kiss on the youngest's cheek, and they were gone, drifting back to their own lives, leaving the three women alone with their sister. But none of them made the move forward. They simply stood, silent and withdrawn, ignoring the steady beat of raindrops that pattered their umbrella, immobile with the shock that still plagued them.
Finally, at long last, the eldest stepped forward, removing her arm from the youngest sister's shoulders and pulling her other out of the seconds grasp. Slowly, she lowered the umbrella and closed it, dropping it to the muddy ground, but no one felt the rain. In her hand, she clutched a beautiful, young, red rose, whose leaves shuddered as drops of water hit them. Slowly, as if each step took an effort beyond any she had imagined, she approached the grave and stopped, gazing down at the case of light metal hiding her sister.
Somewhere in there, she lay on gentle cushions, her once warm hands now icy in death and clasped gently on her sternum. The mortal wound on her stomach was sewed together and cleaned, but it had been done too late to save her life. A fresh gown now clothed her, white and angelic around her. And her face. It had been smoothed from a gritting, painful, hard look, and was now calm, her lips slightly smiling, as if she was in peace and happiness. Her eyes were still gently closed. No longer would those eyes flash with a grin, or take in another book's contents, or narrow with concern, or shine with love. No longer would she run with her sisters, or hold them close, cuddling them and comforting them, colling as she smoothed their tousled hair into a braid or a complexly beautiful style. No longer would she be the voice of reason when her family needed it the most. No longer would she go quietly about her chores and job. No longer would she lay in her husband's arms as they all watched TV or a movie together. No longer would she join them in a sister's room to talk. She couldn't. Not anymore.
Struggling to hold back a wail of grief, the eldest sister came back into reality and, after a slightly pause, gently tossed the rose into the grave where it bounced once on it's buoyant leaves, then settled to rest forever. She stared at it for a few seconds, then opened her mouth to speak. No words came out at first. Then, she said, quietly, almost whispering, "I'm sorry. I love you. You know that? I'd give my life to have you back. Please, don't desert us for good. I'm sorry that I put you in danger." She broke off, a sob finally escaping her lips. She clamped a small black handkerchief to her mouth, holding back further grief, then managed to speak again, her voice cracking and tears filling her vision. "I'm sorry for everything. I love you so much." Unable to continue, she put a hand to her face, hiding it, and turned back, slowly walking toward her sister and fell into the youngest's arms as the third-born approached the grave.
In her trembling fingers, she, too, held a crimson rose that was just beginning to bloom. She did not want to think about her sister. If she did, she would be consumed in grief and anguish and she had to remain strong for her other sisters. So,m as she looked upon the casket, she closed her eyes, but only to see light, knowledge-filled eyes staring back at her, sightless and lost. She shook her head slightly and wrenched her eyes open. "I..." She took a breath to steady her pounding, painful heart. "I'm sorry I didn't-didn't protect you as I should have. I've done if before and I should have done it again. I was stupid to have my back to the door, or not to notice those reinforcements..." she gasped again against the tears wrenchingly. When she was calmer, she whispered. "I miss you so much." And without another word, tossed her flower into the hole and returned to her sisters, not looking back. Folding herself into the eldest's embrace, she buried her head in her sister's shoulder and didn't see the youngest approach the coffin.
This one held a third rose in her long fingers and she fumbled with it as she stared don at the the other roses that lay across each other on top of the casket. Taking a breath, she remembered here sister's warm smile, her deep, intelligent gaze, her soft and gentle touch and her hard, firm ,loving embrace. She remembered days of intense heat when she and her sister were out on the fields, kicking a soccer ball back and forth. She might not have looked it, but her sister was very athletic and loved to kick a ball around with her youngest sister. The blond-haired girl smiled slightly as she remembered her older sister's arm thrown about her shoulder as they walked through the neighborhood, discussing guys, games, everything. She remembered a rainy day like this one where her older sister had tackled her into the mud and tickled her excessively, and then they had rolled in the mud together, forgetting their age, forgetting everything.
Her blue eyes swam with tears and she withdrew slowly back into reality. The rose in her hand pricked her finger gently, a reminder. "I love you," was all she said before dropping the rose down as well, where it settled atop the other two gently, caressing. Then, the youngest turned and joined her sisters, joining their embrace.
The three watched as men approached the grave with shovels and knew it was time to leave, for they could not bear to watch anymore. Together, they turned and began to walk slowly back to their car, but a sight met them that brought them to a halt.
Another family of sisters stood a little ways off, their arms around each other's shoulders comfortingly. On one end, the second-youngest sister stood, her light brown hair tied back in spirals around her head, tears in her eyes, her arms around her youngest sister, whose dark hair lay limp at her shoulders and whose eyes were on the ground, a bit awkwardly, but grief-stricken nonetheless. Beside her was the eldest, her black hair stiffly curled, and she was clothed in a long black overcoat, staring at the other family with intense eyes. The second born was holding the eldest's hand gently, her other hand on her stomach. Her long brown hair was in a half-ponytail, the absence of hair on her face accentuating her mouth and eyes, which were also on the three women approaching them.
Not a word was spoken as the two family's met each other. They all stood silently, just staring at one another, examining each other's eyes, searching for anything that would break the silence.
Then the eldest Charmed One stepped forward and held out her arms to the eldest of the three mourning sisters. Heather tried to smile, but instead, felt the anguish wash over her. She threw herself into Prue Halliwell's arms, breaking down into tears again, her sobs wrenching her throat and tears dampening Prue's coat. Prue held her tightly, her chin on Heather's shoulder and her arms clasped about he. She did not speak nor make a sound at all. Just let the other cry.
Lucy Miller went abruptly to Phoebe, who gathered her up in an embrace, shushing her and stroking her hair, kissing her forehead, trying to do anything to comfort the youngest Magicked One.
Piper Halliwell held out her arms to Samantha, the third-born Miller, but Samantha did not seem to notice. She was staring beyond Piper into the distance, her gaze unfocused. Then, suddenly, she yelled out loud in grief and dropped to her knees, oblivious to the mud-soaked puddle that she had collapsed into, and cried, her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking with weeping. Startled, Piper looked abruptly to her youngest sister, who reached out a hand to her in response. The woman took it, and together, Paige and Piper looked helplessly on as Samantha wallowed in her sadness, drenched in the ill-timed rain and resulting mud.
This is how they remained for some time. They would return home, later, with heavy hearts and dry eyes and attempt to bring their lives back to normal. They would still have each other. All would return. All of them but one. One remained behind forever. A part of a legacy. A part of a legend. A part of a prophesy. A part of a family.