72 Hours

By: Piper Chris Melinda Halliwell

Chapter 3: Barriers of Past and Present

She Orbed in front of an abandoned house on the rougher side of town. She knew that both of them couldn't have her powers at once, but they wouldn't be "activated" until the accident, so for now she had the active power.

She remembered it from when she was about the girl's age from a couple parties. It had been empty for a few years because everyone was afraid that if someone occupied it, sooner or later it would be raided.

But if she remembered correctly, on the outside it was a peaceful, quaint little house during the day. And if her date was correct on her digital watch she pulled from her pocket, all the kids that were usually here were sitting in jail and wouldn't be released for a few days. They'd been there for a month or so at least. Possession for them wasn't anything big.

Paige suspected the party her younger counterpart referred to earlier had been hosted by the guy who never landed in jail. He had the absolute highest tolerance of anyone she'd ever known. Plus, he always managed to plant his 'findings'—yeah, findings, he just bought it off the street—on the person beside him. Man, woman, girlfriend or best friend, nothing mattered as long as he was never caught.

The house wasn't a lab. No one in that crowd was smart enough—or maybe stupid enough is the right word—to do that in a neighborhood where the cops took nightly patrols. Sighing, she readjusted the girl in her arms and opened the door. The entire house smelled of thick musk and was slightly overwhelming. Turning around, she kicked the old door closed and walked over to lay her on the couch.

After doing so, she stood up and had a look around. The paint on the walls was peeling and there were numerous holes in the sheetrock from fights that broke out on a normal basis from people hiding stashes for themselves. Not saying it was ever healthy to share a needle. The lamps had no bulbs in them, but always hid a little extra for a pick-me-up, that she remembered. The wooden coffee table had chips and burns and was the main object people gathered around.

Sighing, she decided she had had enough time to reminisce so she stood up and walked into the kitchen for a cold cloth. Looking under the sink, she found a cloth that was probably the cleanest in the entire house, sans a few questionable stains, and wet it. She then walked back to the young girl who was moaning in pain and shivering.

She pushed the coffee table back a few feet and sat on it, gingerly patting the girl's sweating forehead.

"Mom," she said. "Mom, I'm sorry!"

Paige stopped momentarily, feeling her chest tighten a bit at the words. Never in her life had she told her parents she was sorry for what she'd done because, she choked, by the time I realized how sorry I really was, it was too late. And though she knew now that they knew, she still wished she had told them while she'd had the chance.

Her younger counterpart was shaking now, so she laid the cloth on her forehead and walked behind the couch and Orbed upstairs. Not much in this house was "sanitarily clean" but she knew where the good stuff was. She'd put it there herself and was almost certain her younger counterpart had as well. She was also certain that this house was where she wanted to go.

She quickly searched the closets in the two bedrooms and found what she was looking for. She didn't trust anything on the actual beds, so she took the smaller blanket to fold into a makeshift pillow and walked back downstairs.

As she reached the first floor, Paige saw Chris Orb in. She pressed a finger to her lips and walked into the kitchen with him following. Sighing she leaned against the wall, seeing how rusty the metallic sink was.

"So," he began in a somewhat quiet tone, "how bad is she?"

She sighed again, wiping tiredness from her eyes. "She has shivers, dizziness, confusion, shortness of breath, hives, a bit of shakiness and barely visible track marks," she answered, "and a fever, which is probably from her body trying to fight off the intruder."

"So, by your prognosis, was she telling the truth or had she done it before tonight?" Chris asked. He knew this would be harder, much harder, on her than him. She had no real medical background other than the classes he supposed she took to become a Social Worker, but even he wasn't sure what they were or how much she knew.

Paige bit her lip in thought. "I think she was telling the truth. She would be more nervous, jumpy and concerned about being helped if she wasn't. Still though, other than the track marks, if she absolutely had to, she could pass it off as a bout of flu."

For a moment, all she could hear was the crinkling of the plastic bag Chris had brought back with him as it swung to and fro in his hand. "What are you going to do?"

She placed her hand—as the other held blankets to her chest—on her hip in a motherly fashion before she berated. "I'm supposed to know? You're the one who suggested we come back to this damn time in the first place! You're supposed to guide me here!"

He held his hands up in defense and took a needed step backward. "I know that, but you've dealt with this kinda stuff before—"

"—and its in my blood. Since that accident, I vowed to clean myself up and help others so that they wouldn't go through the exact same pain! You think it was easy, Chris! Seeing kids begging to stay with their neglectful, hateful, drug addicted parents who thought they were just there as a mistake and used as a punching bag 'cause hell, kids are smaller than adults and more manipulative! And drunks were so much worse…" finally, she was able to stop her rant and take a shaky breath before sliding down the wall in tears.

"I didn't," he answered quietly, "but you know more about this stuff than I do. You know how to help her."

She let out a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes. "And how—pray tell—am I supposed to do that when she doesn't want to go home or to the hospital where she belongs?"

"Is…she afraid of going to jail?"

"She's afraid of upsetting her parents because she sneaked out and, I'm guessing, because she doesn't want them to see her in this bad of shape."

The young Witchlighter set the bag on the floor and rested on his knees. "But then, isn't the best thing for her to go home? Her parents won't care as long as she's okay."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Not when you're expected to be perfect at everything you do."

"Every parent wants their child to be happy. I'm sure that's all her parents want."

She rolled her eyes again.

"Somehow, you've got to get her to talk to you and say what's really behind this."

"I already know, Chris!" she fumed standing up. "It's her parents, it's the teachers, other classmates, peer pressure…"

"It's got to be more than that, Aunt Paige…"

A gasp made them turn their heads toward the young girl who had woken up. "D-did you just call her Aunt Paige?"

. . .

. . .

Author's Notes: [Cue dramatic music... no? Well, damn! I can hear it!] Something's not right in the mind of a Young Paige Matthews. How on earth are they going to explain this? Anyone have any guesses?

(-(P.S. I haven't even started writing the next chapter to "Heaven's Mistaken Gift" yet. I guess I'm just excited about this story, but I will work on it very soon. Promise!)-)

Reveiw thanks to: Dominus Trinus & That70sshowlova

Special thanks to That70sshowlova for being my Beta!

Please read and review to tell me what you think!

Piper Chris Melinda Halliwell