The frosty evening air nipped at their faces as Piper Halliwell walked alongside Jackie and Rose Tyler, their voices bouncing off the quiet streets. The faint hum of distant traffic and the occasional drunken cheer from New Year's revelers only highlighted how still their little corner of Cardiff felt.
Piper's breath billowed in front of her, the sharp cold stinging her cheeks. She glanced at Rose, whose eyes sparkled with an odd mix of amusement and frustration as she gestured wildly.
"I dunno what you see in him, Mum," Rose said, tugging her scarf tighter with an irritated flick of her wrist. Her voice carried the kind of disbelief that only came from years of love laced with exasperation. "He's useless, that Jim. I've seen him with that paper hat from the crackers—sat there like a right plonker, not even helping with the washing up."
Jackie snorted, a half-hearted noise that barely hid her defensiveness. "Oh, come off it. He's decent enough."
"Decent?" Rose's face scrunched in disbelief. Her nose wrinkled as though the mere thought of Jim offended her. "Mum, he can't even pick up a spoon without complainin' about his back. You've been runnin' 'round after him all Christmas! Get rid of him, yeah?"
Piper trailed just behind, her gloved hands buried deep in her pockets. She smirked at the exchange, her lips twitching upward despite herself. She liked watching Rose and Jackie go at it—there was something comforting about their bickering, a warmth beneath the sharp edges. Still, she stayed silent, her thoughts quietly echoing Rose's words. Jim was useless.
Jackie sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face as her pace slowed. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of years of loneliness pressing into her frame. "You don't get it, Rose. It's not easy, y'know, finding someone at my age. People like me don't get fairy tales."
Rose's stride faltered. She turned, her expression softening, and her voice dropped in volume, as if trying not to let the crack in her mum's confidence widen. "Mum, you don't need Jim—or anyone else like him. You've got me, yeah? And Mickey. And…" Her eyes flicked back toward Piper. "And Piper, too. You're not on your own."
Piper caught the glance and nodded, offering a small smile of agreement. But her gaze soon wandered to the looming silhouette of their building. Something about the shadows pooling by the bins drew her attention. A flicker of unease tightened her chest, though she couldn't pinpoint why. She was about to brush it off when the sharp cry cut through the cold. It was faint, muffled—like someone trying to shout with a hand over their mouth. The sound sliced through the quiet, freezing her mid-step.
"Rose?" Piper's voice came out instinctively, a little sharper than she intended. Rose and Jackie, still lost in their conversation, didn't notice her hesitation. Their laughter felt too loud, too detached from the sudden unease prickling at Piper's skin. She turned back toward the bins, her heart pounding harder with each step closer.
The shadows shifted. For a moment, she thought it was a trick of the dim light, but then she saw him.
A tall figure leaned against the wall, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was waging a private battle just to stay upright. The streetlamp caught the edge of his long coat, but his face remained obscured. Piper's breath hitched.
"H-hello?" Her voice broke the stillness, her American accent standing out sharply against the quiet. "You alright?"
The man hesitated, his head tilting slightly as though listening. When he stepped forward, the light fell on his face. Piper's stomach twisted at the sight—his eyes, deep and ancient, were like twin windows to an ocean of grief. The weight in them pressed against her, as though it could crush the air from her lungs.
"I was just… passing through," he said. His voice carried a warmth that clashed against the cold in his gaze.
Piper frowned. Her instincts screamed that something was off. "Doesn't look like it to me," she said, her tone firmer than she felt. "Too much to drink? You don't look good. I can call someone."
His smile flickered briefly, and she caught the faintest hint of bitterness in it. "No," he said quickly. "I'm alright. Or I will be."
The tremor in his voice betrayed him, and Piper's unease deepened. Something about him gnawed at the edges of her memory. "Maybe it's time you go home."
He chuckled faintly—a sound that was both comforting and unbearably sad. "Yeah." His expression softened. There was something deeply unsettling in the way he looked at her, as though he knew her far better than he should.
"Happy new year." It was the first thing that came out of her mouth but it worked. The unwarranted tenderness from this stranger was replaced with a cheerful grin.
"You too."
With that, she headed to the block of flats. His next question
"What year is this?"
She whirled around so fast, it left her dizzy. Jesus Christ, how much had he drank?
"January 1st, 2005."
"2005. Tell you what. I bet you're going to have a really great year."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Listen, I've got to go, but listen to me, stay with Rose," he said quietly. "Spend as much time with her as you can."
"What? Why?" Her voice cracked, her growing panic bleeding into the word.
The man stepped back, the darkness swallowing him inch by inch. "Trust me."
Trust him? She didn't even know him.
"Wait!" Piper surged forward, her breath sharp in her chest. "Who are you?"
But he was gone.
The empty space where he had stood seemed impossibly still, as though the night itself were holding its breath. Piper's heart thundered in her chest, the unanswered questions tangling in her thoughts.
"Pipes!"
Rose's voice jolted her back to reality. She turned to see Rose waving her over, Jackie still muttering something about Jim.
"You alright?" Rose asked when Piper caught up. Her eyes scanned Piper's face, concern flickering there.
Piper forced a smile, though her hands were trembling inside her pockets. "I...don't...yeah. I'm fine."
She wasn't fine. Every step into the building felt heavier than the last. She lingered in the stairwell as Jackie and Rose's laughter echoed upward, their voices warm and familiar. But her mind stayed on the stranger. Who was he? And why did it feel like he'd pulled the floor out from under her?
The crack in her facade widened when she finally reached her bedroom, the familiar scent of sandalwood offering little comfort. Her hands shook as she scrolled through her phone, Mickey's voice a welcome anchor when she finally called.
Still, the knot of unease in her chest didn't budge. Whoever that man was, Piper knew one thing for certain: he wasn't a drunk, and he hadn't been there by accident. Something far bigger than she could fathom was at play, and it was only just beginning.