A/N: This chapter will be in 1st person, Pattie's POV. I'm pretty sure it'll be the last 1st person chapter until the epilogue but you guys responded well to the last one so I thought I'd give it a go! Have your tissues ready!
I can feel their eyes bearing down on me, my Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Piper's, a million things running through my head and none of them making sense. Mainly though, there's just one question.
How do they know?
"I…" a single word falls from my lips, and I look to my aunts, who anticipate more. "I don't know who or what you're talking about." Lying through my teeth.
Aunt Phoebe finds the patience to calmly explain, "You asked for her last night, dear, after your nightmare, remember?" I can vaguely remember the stinging pain of my recurring memory of May 17, 2001, always appearing in my dreams. Were they there when I woke up sobbing, did I really ask for my aunt? Why would I? Is it possible I lost track of what time I'm in? "Pattie, look at me," Aunt Phoebe summons my eyes towards her, but I can't. She repeats the line again, the irony of this conversation dawning on me. "Patricia Elizabeth, look at me." I bring myself to do so and when our eyes meet, I fall into her trap quicker than I realize.
Anything but the truth, I remind myself, anything.
Still, I see that look of empathy, a gaze that says how she feels your anguish but tries to remind you that secrets as a witch are never worth keeping, you have enough already. It's hard to build a plausible story.
"A close friend," I mumble, very unsure of my own words. It was the first thing to come to mind. "You guys love her, like family. Like…sisters." I really have to bite my tongue with the last word.
Aunt Phoebe remains wary, "And you call her aunt Paige?"
"Habit," I tell her. "She's as much of family as you or Aunt Piper are to me. She loves me and I love her and that will never change." That's a piece of the truth, plain and simple.
When my mom bounds back into the room with a plate of hot food for breakfast, I spring backwards. With each word the three of us had leaned forward more and more, absorbed in our conversation, like a secret club or survivors trying to keep out the world. My mother notices my discomfort almost instantly, but despite my aunts managing to remain in control of themselves over the appearance I can sense their tenseness. It's an ability I've developed over passing years and learned to perfect with all the time I spend in their company. We share a mutual feeling now.
A hope that Mom heard nothing.
"Ah, subtle," she grins, sitting herself close to me, a protectiveness I find myself liking, "very subtle."
"What?" I ask with an innocent smile which professes the obvious guilt.
She rests the plate with two buttermilk pancakes and a helping of crisp toast on my lap. "You weren't talking about me at all," she says, a tone of cynicism apparent. And we weren't, but I happen to be the only one who knows how much the subject really does relate to her.
In any case, Aunt Piper saves me. "Prue, not everything in this world is focused on you, you know," she kids with a painful smile. They try to forget the sadness dumped on them last night, but without any luck. "So self absorbed." She throws another smirk Mom's way.
"Ha, ha," Mom drones out a fake laugh. "Such a comedian, Piper."
Picking at my food and carving lines through it with a fork, I frown as a thought washes over me. "You didn't cook this yourself, did you?"
My mom isn't exactly a five-star chef.
Aunt Phoebe clamps her hand over her mouth, an unsuccessful endeavor to smother her giggles. She falls forward laughing obnoxiously. "Oh all right missy," she pokes me with her own wide smile. "I see you inherited the Halliwell tradition of teasing and sarcastic comments." When I continue to shoot her a playful glare, she corrects her statement. "Fine so that wasn't sarcastic, I'm not the best cook around," she admits.
"Speaking lightly," I giggle, pressing my luck and giving Aunt Phoebe a high five.
"You really are terrible!" Mom exclaims, pulling the dish away from me momentarily to make a point. "Why am I feeding such an ungrateful little girl?"
I lean against her affectionately, "Because you love me."
That's the right answer of course; she returns me food to me and then reassures me. "We've been up for an hour now. Your Aunt Piper made the pancakes and I reheated them and then made you the toast." Just for laughs, I stare strangely at the bread as if it could kill me. She glowers, "Even I can't poison toast."
"Why not? There's the demon of illusion and demon of fear," Aunt Phoebe adds, "Why not the demon of tainted food?"
"She kills people with her cooking," Aunt Piper finishes, scrunching her face up with a laugh at her own joke.
My entire family laughs at the witty banter as I inhale my food, not realizing how hungry I was until the plate is empty. Before any of us can react, I'm cuddled up next to my mother, already half-asleep. When I was little before magic was a thought, we'd watch NickJr on this couch every morning until I ended up dozing off in her arms for a morning nap, just like this.
I could sleep now, just keep dreaming and never wake up.
My mom is visibly enjoying this, being able to help me relive my childhood, she so relaxed. Since Roger, Gram's untimely death, and magic there were rare days I could actually feel her let go. Maybe my presence was important to remind her how necessary leisurely time with the family is while it's still available to her.
"Where's little Pattie…or me?" I finally ask, remembering how Em's parties often ended early.
"Still at Em's costume party. I'll call Emily's mother later and ask if she can spend the day there, even thought you probably know what's going on. I don't want you near it yet," Mom tells me.
"I'm sure I know, I pick up on everything," I offer proudly. They all grin agreeably.
I can see how Aunt Piper wants to ask about mom's death, especially after this nightmare I barely remember. She wants to stop it but she doesn't have to worry, I'll beat her there.
As soon as I can get away.
For now though, escaping my family isn't a main prerogative. Spending lost time with them is a gift, making up for words we never got to share. We talk conversations of many varieties. I learn things I never knew and feel closer to my mom. It makes my decision even more definitive.
I thank magic for screwing me over; it's about to bless me twice.
Worry consumes me none-the less. At home I hope my aunts haven't yet discovered my absence. It's in them to assume the worst; although I would hope that the fact that my room remained it tact speaks out to them. If I demon tried to take me, I'd fight like hell to protect myself, not just fall victim.
The sooner I get this done the better.
"I'll be right back, all right?" I ask, and they all nod, too engrossed in the conversation to think anything of where I could possibly go. I head upstairs and straight to the attic, a familiar territory. The Book of Shadows and I are coming face to face again and but I've been running words through my head all morning. I don't know how to get myself home, but I'm becoming sure that I just might be able to get myself to May 17, 2001 without any assistance. I consider the candles to call my grandmother again but then stop, this is my battle. I'll have to come back here to let mom know what I've done afterwards, maybe then I can tell her about Paige, but otherwise it's set. After paging through the Book of Shadows for one spell in particular, I grab a yellow pad and begin to jot down three spells. One to vanquish Shax, one to get to 2001, and one to get back.
Magic School books have always said time travel was easier to get to one time than to get back to your own, so I'm assuming that's why I don't know how to get home. But I think I'm confident with this. Shax needed the power of three to be vanquished, but maybe me, a next generation Halliwell can subdue that demon.
I want him to burn in hell forever.
My time is running slim before anyone in my family realizes that I'm not coming back downstairs right away. I'll be toast, but they can thank me later. I take one more glance around the room before I hold the paper in front of me and chant the words off it at, thinking of the lives I'm going to be saving, moms and my own.
A family whose lives I need to defend.
For the reign of a treacherous demon I hope to end
Take me back to a day where the life of a Charmed One fell
And help me to save Prudence Halliwell
Glowing spheres of light return to me, cloaking me until I disappear from 2000 and resume just a mere six months later in 2001. May 17, 2001.
What I discover is that I have less time than I actually realized. Now pieces of my dream from the night prior begin to conform themselves together into a stable memory, this memory, this moment in time where I lost it all. It all unfolds at my feet. I'm situated on the stairwell, peeking out from behind the wall and listening to the rich voice of my mother, older by six months but just as beautiful. Her tone always amazed me, how she could manage to capture so much compassion to convey to innocents no matter how jittery she was herself.
A jitteriness that was suited in its own right, especially considering the circumstances.
"Look, I know that this all sounds incredible, but it doesn't make it any less true. Alright, you're a healer, you do good, now either you have saved too many lives or you're about to save a life that they don't want you to save," she explains. I'm close enough in range that I can here her, but not in sight.
My own voice is squeaky for a seven-year-old when I reply. I'd been so excited then, turning eight in only a month, not ever thinking what monstrous piece of my life would be missing by then. Fear racks my body when I think about this spell, trying to feel competent, secure in my own abilities. After all, I am the daughter of a Charmed one. My power is magnified from each one of theirs, that much has been apparent over the years and it should still apply to me now, despite where I am.
Right?
Suddenly I stop drowning myself in anxieties and listening to Dr. Griffith's rants fills my ears. "…My second wife put you up to this? Ah, it's just like her." I wonder why he couldn't just believe us.
I listen to myself. "It's true!" There had been so much anger boiling in my tiny body over this man, I wonder if it's relevant to the fact that I chose not to save him that day. Or was he, like Mom, destined to die then? "Make him listen mommy!" I lean over against the side wall peering down and watching myself wrap my tiny arms tighter around my mother's neck and looking to her for some support. I always enlisted her to defend me. That was another reason her being gone was difficult, I have to learn to be independent and stand up for myself.
I'm so occupied this conversation that for a second I completely forget about the arrival of Shax. That is, I forget until I watch my mother set me down mid-conversation, confessing that she's feeling a chill. Before I was too young to know this but when I was in the fifth grade I learned from a friend that if a person felt a chill if could signify that something bad was about to happen.
That always stuck with me.
Continuing to linger on the stairwell, my eyes almost well up when I hear the faint whimper. "I love you too, mommy." My last words to my mother. So simple, so perfect. I've always remembered how even in the dimmest situation she could manage to remind me that she loves me. Maybe she saw it coming, that's something I never considered before. Could that be because of my time travel? I want to doubt that, she said it even before I'd gone back. Magic works in mysterious ways, I swear.
"Phoebe, are you there?" my Mom's fearful voice strikes me hard. Then I know what's coming. I make sure not to move in case she sees me, but as soon as I hear my ear slicing scream I'm aware that they don't have time to worry about my presence anyway. My Mom and Aunt Piper land on the ground with a thud.
Shax is here.
The paper is so tight in my grasp that as Shax is materializing I nearly create holes in the thin substance as I clutch it, my entire body shaking as I begin to read the spell. "Evil wind that blows," I say only loud enough that the power will affect Shax, not loud enough to be audible. Four words so carefully read that I almost think I've said them wrong. The tornado had unveiled itself to Shax now, his malevolent grin piercing my confidence. Still, I know I can to this, there's no other choice if I want my mom back. No other choice. "That…which…" I fall out of it, unsure. Then, "That which forms below," I speak more clearly. He already seems partially impaired, confused over his sudden weakness. I've read half the spell, only half to go.
Before this moment in time I thought this would be easy but for some reason it's anything but that. I can hear the painful groans of my mother and aunt as they lay sprawled out against the ground, barely harmed but realizing how overpowered they may actually be. My own whimpers cloud my head.
"Dear God," Dr. Griffiths cries, his own voice escaping him as well. This man had been so intent on not believing in the existence of magic that I think he's still denying what is actually standing before him. I didn't notice it then, but there's still a small shadow of doubt registering somewhere deep in his eyes, some voice of reason telling him it's not real and that he's dreaming. I wish that he was, that I was, that we all were. One huge, fake dream. It's when I see a small figure, myself, moving towards Shax that I finally remember my purpose and get a jump start.
The paper crumbles in my hands, varnished in sweat. "No longer may you dwell…" I say with the sound diminishing at the last word. It's at that point that every memory of my mother begins running through my mind like a slideshow. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
None as bad as this impending moment though. If I don't get myself back on track quick enough and say the last line of the spell my chance will be pulled from underneath my feet quicker than I can stop it.
So why can't I?
The reminiscence of Mom becomes moments with Aunt Paige from early on to recently. Small things really; how she'd help me with my homework or say some silly quote from a movie she'd been watching and wait for me to laugh, which I would even half the time I didn't get it. A day where we'd spent hours among hours at the park with her teaching me to paint, carefully directing my hand across the paper, making strokes of color. The way it feels when she hugs me proudly after a good report card or how safe I've felt after every nightmare about Mom, her spouting every little reassurance that things would be okay. I'd tell her stories about her sister for hours and despite how alienated she may have felt, or how much she may have longed for that meaningful occasion where she'd get to meet Mom, she never interrupted me. And of everyone, she was the first person who brought me to my mother's grave after her passing, on Mom's birthday of that year. Why have I never thanked her for that?
I've been so sure all along that I could lead her to her biological family but I didn't consider the struggles she'll have with herself over the decision to find us. Aunt Paige has such a split personality and much like Mom she'll stage a war with herself over a choice until one side wins. What if she continues to convince herself that it's not right to look for us? Things were like that for endless years before then so how could a visit from one child change it?
You would think I could have figured how much the odds really did weigh against me before now. I may think I can stop this and still have my Aunt Paige in my life but what if I'm suddenly whisked away to the future upon finishing the spell? There's the chance I won't remember ever meeting her. And if you string a piece of thread through every good time after this, every important person we'll meet or each accomplishment heading our way, who is to say that they aren't connected to that very moment the Power of Three was reconstituted? Not long enough I thought about destiny, it always comes back to claim what it wants. Even if the spell is a success the Angel of Death probably won't be too pleased, and then he'll be back. I could be messing up a lot more than I bargained for.
I'll lose any remnant of memory regarding my aunt, uncles, cousins, Billie, and all of the good we've done in the past seven years. And that last thought insures what I've known all along but couldn't admit.
I can't do this.
Just in time, I bring the paper away from my face and watch my mother shove me out of the line of fire. Too frozen to scream or react, my eyes watch the horror again. I live it all over again. My mother flies through the wall, the sound of the boards snapping, lamp shattering, and crashing of wall pieces coming through clear as a bell. Blood spatters and I think my heart actually stops. This was something I didn't see before, the way her chest rose and fell, her strength still there but declining rapidly.
I've missed my chance to save her.
Aunt Piper has been used as a wrecking ball and is lying next to Mom after I blink again. What surprises me is how much it really hurts to see her, possibly more than it does to see mom. I can barely believe that I'm thinking that but the fact that I've got her at home walking around, very much alive, every day is what helped me erase this picture from my mind.
Now it's back with a vengeance.
I'm tormenting myself by doing this.
With what draining will power is still left I look to my mother's killer. I can almost feel myself shaking, no doubt channeling the emotions of my younger figure. I want to kill Shax but I know his ruining our lives will bring us knowledge about Aunt Paige, so I swallow my grief, the desire to be the one to end his life, and I do nothing. My hands drop to my sides and I clench when I hear it. "The end," his voice declares. The end of everything as I know it.
I don't look when he throws Dr. Griffiths through the plate glass and I don't know if I ever really cared or not. His lifeless body is of no interest to me when bigger things are at stake. If I'm selfish for that, I don't give a damn.
After all, destiny takes what it wants anyway, doesn't it? I was never very good at sharing.
By the time I can finally regain any length of control over my body, Shax is a swirling tornado again, twisting his way out of the Manor and leaving the destruction for us to pick up. Little Pattie gets to her feet and I realize how out of focus I was with glazed over eyes and jaw dropped. Still, my young self puts it aside and runs over to my family dropping down beside them and fretfully checking for a pulse.
I think I was stronger then than I am now. Ignorance to how grave death is can really be pure bliss. With Dad I was shielded as much as possible but with Mom I was alone, left to carry the burden of disaster without aid. It influenced me from an emotional standpoint more than I care to share.
I hear myself calling for my Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Leo stranded in the Underworld. No response.
Gripping the railing and leaning against the banister I unsteadily teeter down the stairs. My heart thumps in my chest but I have to be as inconspicuous as possible. One false move and I'll tear apart the future I just sacrificed everything to fix. Living this once was rough, twice is hell; my body has gone numb.
Using as little sound as possible, I run out of the hall and into the kitchen, pressing against my body against the wall closest to all of this and remaining there for what seems like hours until Uncle Leo finally orbs in. I hear his frightened cries. "Piper! Prue!" His wife, his charges, until then I don't think I'd ever seen him scared. He'd always been very professional, but family changes it all.
Not even a minute had passed before Cole shimmers Aunt Phoebe beside the clutter. One look and I heard her high-pitched scream out of instinct even though Shax was gone.
"Heal them Leo! Now!" she screams, leaving Cole's side instantly when she sees little me clutching my knees to my chest and rocking back and forth with my mother's hand still in mine, a severe grip. As thankful as she may have been to him, Aunt Phoebe kneels down adjacent to me anyway, trying to turn my head away from the horrific scene but damage is already done.
Damage had been done years ago.
"Come here, sweetheart, come on," she summons me to her arms, but I refuse without a word. "Let's get you away from this okay? Okay?" Aunt Phoebe tries again, desperate. Finally she manages to release Mom's hand, cold and lifeless already, from mine and I fall into her arms as she hoists me into the air, pressing my face into her shirt and trying to make me look away. But innocence had been lost a long time ago.
Then, I murmur, weeping, "Mommy."
Uncle Leo removes his hands from over Aunt Piper as her wounds finally begin to disappear, blood rushing back into her body, being whole again. It takes a minute due to the trauma but finally she opens her eyes slowly, unaware of her location right away but remembering when she sees her sister next to her.
"Leo," she demands, but he's already placed his hands over Mom, striving so hard to save her.
Aunt Piper and Aunt Phoebe hug, holding each other tightly, grateful for one life, waiting on another. I turn my head to look at her, still blubbering and she whispers in my ear that she loves me and she's proud I'd go up against Shax to save an innocent.
I can barely remember doing all of this as I continue to watch my younger self, but even after Aunt Piper's words, I point to Mom, fixated on her. My world. "Mommy," I say again.
It's when Uncle Leo stops doing anything that I bring my head back into the kitchen and my knees buckle. I sink to the corner on my knees, sobbing. I hear both Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Piper asking, "Why'd you stop, what's wrong?" simultaneously but everything else is clouded by my shrill cries.
Trying to muffle them doesn't work, but my family is too busy with a bigger problem to hear.
"I can't heal the dead," Uncle Leo says sadly. The sound of my footsteps as I run for my bedroom in denial of the situation is the last thing I hear because I drown out any more words, tears, or screams with my own sobbing.
I don't believe that I could screw so much up, that I could be so stupid as to believe I could save her, so selfish. I killed my mother by trying to stand up against that demon that day. I don't care what anyone says. I killed her. And that's why I cry now. Because I've learned that I can't fix it, I can't fix the biggest mistake of my life no matter what. She meant everything to me and she's been lost. I don't think I even deserve her.
In the middle of all of this I feel my body being pulled away from this time, this place. I'm being summoned.
I fear something bad, that I'll be back in 2008 with no explanation to give to my aunts and no chance to say goodbye to Mom again even though I doubt I really can say that. But when I get is worse.
2000.
The three of them stand there with their hands on their hips all darting eyes at me angrily. I'm still on my knees sobbing, but I try to pull myself together when I'm conscious of where I am. I wasn't ready to come back.
I scream, staring at my mother's eyes, full of compassion. "What the hell did you do that for?!"
All right, I need your reviews now more than ever. I'll beg if I have to, but I REALLY want to know what you thought of this. It goes back to 3rd person next chapter. Oh, I just thought I'd tell you that I realized Piper and Leo were married in 2001, which is also the time Prue saw the Angel of Death, and even though I've said it's October 2000 I also said all of that happened. So, I'm a little off, but the Charmed writers weren't known for continuity either so we're even. I will try to have a new chapter up really soon. Definitely before next week.
Thanks guys, your support means the world!
Megan