Precious Illusions

Chapter Three: Uninvited

"Okay, so all of this is about a girl?" Paige Matthews quietly asked, as she sat hunched over at the dining room table with her legs drawn up to her chest, and a warm mug of coffee clasped between her cold fingers. The local newspaper lay in a crumpled mess to her right, and a series of circles coupled with yellow highlighting dominated the first page of the job finder, her frustrating quest still very much ongoing in the hope of finding a decent place of employment.

"Yeah, but he says he doesn't want to talk about it," Phoebe Halliwell retorted simply, professing the softest of shrugs in response. She sat in the seat directly across from her sister, the uncomfortableness of the situation clearly not lost on her, as she stole a quick glance towards the stairwell where Cole had departed only moments earlier. A large maroon colored blanket was casually draped across her shoulders, and she impulsively pulled it closer to her body out of habit, her frozen hands tightening their hold on it from either end.

"Wait, and you're just going to accept that?" she demanded. "I mean you go and you stumble upon what has to be one of the most deepest and darkest secrets of his entire existence, and he's keeping absolutely mum about it? Whatever happened to full disclosure? You guys are married, so I think the term already applies, don't you?"

"Paige."

"What? I'm serious, Phoebe. Regardless of what he did and when he did it, he still needs to come clean about it. It's not fair to you, to us. Besides, she's still out there somewhere, and I doubt Andy and Darryl will be able to track her down in time to sweep Cole's great big mess under the rug." She took a long, deliberate sip from the cup before she attempted to roll her eyes out of annoyance and disgust. "Okay, look, I realize I'm kind of responsible here and all, but how the hell did I know that some story about a dead guy was going to have some crazy chick resurfacing from his past? Because, c'mon, let's face it- not even the world's best non-Wiccan psychic could have seen that one coming."

"Well, all jokes aside? I'd actually like to think my premonitions, or...lack thereof, kind of take precedence over some crazy chick," The Charmed One pointed out. "We probably would have gotten to that house in time to stop what happened to Derek, and we'd know more about why this woman had a great big bull's-eye painted on her back. It's obvious she was accused of something, but I just don't know what. Cole hasn't exactly been forthcoming on the details, which brings us right back to the no talking thing."

"For what it's worth, people were accused of all kinds of things back in the day. You name it, they'd find some stupid reason to make it stick, and before you could cry out and beg for your life..." Paige halted her speech, and hurriedly demonstrated an imaginary wound being slit across her throat, her eyes widening themselves in mock terror. "That's it, gone, buh bye, see ya."

"So you think she was a witch," Phoebe surmised, as she appeared to consider the possibility of the complications that were sure to arise if there happened to be any amount of truth to that particular revelation.

"Oh that would really put the fly in the ointment, wouldn't it?" Paige added, undoubtedly amused. "The irony is literally mind-numbing."

"There are more of us out there," she supplied. "They're just not Charmed."

"Yay for us," her sister corroborated with a false sense of enthusiasm, while she absentmindedly set her beverage aside. "Look, as much as I want to suppress the need to jump for oodles of joy here, have you actually told Piper about any of this yet?"

Phoebe immediately shook her head. "No, because right now she's not on a need to know, so it's just going to stay between the four of us. Until we find out more about...whatever it is we're going to have to deal with here, I don't think it'd be wise to let the cat out of the bag too soon."

"Don't forget Andy," Paige admonished. "You basically let the cat out of the bag with him back at Derek's, and he's not even technically family yet."

She only scowled at her, as she blew out a breath. "Andy knows who we are. The only other person he'd probably tell is Darryl, and we both agree in having to take that risk in order to let the two of them stall the investigation."

"Hey, I'm not saying Cole's a bad guy, all right? I'm just saying that the kids wouldn't exactly benefit from knowing their father was two nuts short of a fruitcake and murdered some helpless woman way before he knew they were going to exist. But, well, everything's okay now, because he honestly promises never to hurt anyone ever again, and has mommy's faith in him to prove it."

"Alex would understand, Paige. She's a big girl, which is obviously more than I can say for some of us at this point."

"Great, so you're going to sit there and tell me I'm overreacting? You know, given the current circumstances, I don't think I need to refresh your memory about the number of times he's tried to kill us. I mean we trust him a lot more than we used to, I'll grant you- and he's proven himself time and again without question. It's just...some clouds don't exactly have a silver lining. I thought you above anybody would understand that we can't be too careful, and-"

"You care about him," Phoebe reiterated with some reassurance in her voice, as she gently reached out a hand to pat her arm, her lips forming a slow smile. "Yeah, I get it, believe me I do. You try to fight it whenever you can, but you care about him. We all do, even Prue, and she was never even keen on me having him in my life to begin with. You care, or this wouldn't keep eating away at your conscience the way it has."

"Thanks for the pep talk and all, but I think I still prefer to remain in denial," Paige grumbled, as she went and grabbed a bright red apple from the cream colored bowl a few inches away, emphatically inspecting it with her eyes cast purposefully downward.

"See, I knew it!"

"Yeah, whoa, not so loud, okay?" She abruptly shushed her sister with a firm index finger to her lips, her eyes growing wide, the apple nearly tumbling right out of her other hand. "Look, Cole basically already came to the same conclusion after we left P3, so it's hardly anything resembling news these days. I'm not going to become the president of his fan club, but I'm clearly very much aware that life definitely sucks for him. Not to mention the fact that he really does have a front row seat to you know where now."

"So why do I get the feeling Derek is still the key?" Phoebe said softly, as she continued to mull it over. "Whether or not we want to believe that what happened to him was the result of the ties Cole has to his past, her presence was strong, Paige. Too strong. I mean, it's like we weren't even supposed to know what was going on- like...something was stopping us and interfering. I've never felt anything like it before."

"It's a chain reaction," she volunteered, thoughtfully taking a bite out of the piece of fruit. "I heard this guy's story on the news, I decide to check out his place, and Cole follows me and starts acting funny the minute we get there. He scrambles like mad to get out of dodge, you and Andy try and put two and two together, then bam- you see this woman in your premonition. Cole suddenly shows up at said spooky location, behaves even more cryptic than usual, and he tragically informs you that he's to blame for her guilt-ridden demise. Gee, did I leave anything out?"

"Okay, so...what? What exactly is it that you want me to do, Paige, hmm? It's not like I can just go up to him and beat it out of him."

"No, but there are other schools of thought. Either way, it shouldn't be too hard to start connecting the dots, should it? Cole's come to terms with who he used to be long before he-" She took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone of voice completely level. "He's killed a lot of innocents, and suddenly he's avoiding this one like the plague? It doesn't add up, and you can't tell me you've convinced yourself otherwise. The question is, what makes her so special? Why is he still so hung up on it like it was yesterday?"

"Well, it doesn't help that we don't even know her name, does it?" Her fingers had managed to locate a loose thread on the maroon blanket, and she began to apprehensively toy with it until she broke it free, tightly looping the string repeatedly around her thumb until there was nothing left of it. "I understand the pull of evil- I get it, all right? You're looking at a witch who had warlock powers, became Queen of the Underworld, and got possessed by the Woogy Grams warned us about when we were kids. Now I know I might sometimes try to forget those things ever happened, but it doesn't give him the right to keep pushing me away over a crime he committed years ago."

"Phoebe."

"Paige, I don't even want to think about what a wreck I'd be if he walks out of my life again. It was my fault that he did before, and I let him. I let him." She noticed her swollen thumb only as an afterthought, and slowly began winding the string in the opposite direction. "I wanted him gone, so he left. I ended up putting our daughter in danger, because I was too stupid to let her use her powers. I'd be lying if I said I still didn't regret it. I should have listened to him then, but I was too damn stubborn to admit I was wrong." Phoebe closed her eyes, silently willing away the tears she was sure would come, because they were also tears she simply couldn't bring herself to deal with in what was such a frivolous moment of weakness on her behalf. "What if he leaves again? It'll be his own choice this time, and I might not be enough to stop him."

"Cole knows how much he loves you," the other woman assured her. "He more than loves you, Phoebe, you're everything to him. He'd never just pack up and go if it meant you wouldn't be safe without him. That said, I certainly wouldn't begrudge the guy if he wanted to get out for a few days and think things over."

"Yeah, and that's what scares me. A few days could turn into a month, two months. He'll be out there on his own, and we won't even know where he is. If he decides to suddenly, I don't know...throw himself over a bridge, I'd never even know about it."

"Okay, so look at it this way," Paige insisted, while she thoroughly studied and took aim at a nearby trash can, noisily heaving the apple core into it with little to no trouble at all. "No matter how much we tried to kill him before, he always came back- and believe me; we really put some heart and soul into it. Now that right there should be plenty to convince you to keep your spirits on the up and up."

"Wow, you just keep surprising me, don't you?"

"Ugh, fine. You know, for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry, all right?" She hastily pushed herself to her feet, and nimbly tucked in the chair she'd occupied only seconds ago, agilely shuffling her feet into a pair of bright pink slippers on the floor. "Better yet, I am sorry for even speaking tonight, because it always seems to land me in the doghouse. So if it's all the same to you, I'm going to go to bed now. You should probably do the same."

Phoebe only smiled and shook her head. "Why do you do that?"

Paige turned around to face her, hands perched upon her hips in a somewhat defensive stance. "Do what?"

"Try to make me feel better, but really suck at it?"

"The way I see it, you can rationalize this any way you want, and it's still not going to do a thing to repair the damage that's already been done." She initiated the slightest of shrugs with her shoulders. "That, and well...no one's perfect, you know? This woman probably wasn't a saint, and even if it were absolutely true and she was some kind of patron for humanity, she's bound to have some kind of skeletons in her closet somewhere. I mean, look at you, for example. You made mistakes while you were in New York, right? You got involved with that small-minded, urn stealing jerk, and-"

"Yes, and have you ever approved of any guy I've been involved with?" she challenged then, raising a perturbed eyebrow. "Nick isn't exactly in the running for Man of the Year, either. Besides, I wasn't even aware of your existence back then, and not that it matters all that much now, but I was actually dating Clay before he stole that urn. He only came to me again after he'd taken it, because he wanted Prue to get rid of it at Buckland's."

"Gee, that's really interesting and everything, but let's be honest here. This is really going nowhere, isn't it?"

"Pretty much," Phoebe agreed, grinning fiercely now.

"Okay, so good night, and I will see you in the morning," Paige acceded, as she surreptitiously grabbed her sister's blanket and attempted to make her way into the other room, shooting a thoughtful glance back over her shoulder. "Oh, and just for the record, I've had my fill of crazy for today. I think I'm going to go find something with a happy ending and lots of sap to watch."

"Such a hopeless romantic," she chimed in.

Alexandra Turner was distracted and oblivious to the words being exchanged downstairs, as her tiny, bare feet padded swiftly across the poorly lit hallway, hurriedly scampering into a room shrouded in an even denser blackness. She hesitantly felt her way around the soft, palatial beige carpet, her small frame coming to a terse halt at the foot of the large bed with rumpled covers. A pair of feet adorned in white socks dangled over the edge, and she carefully laid a petite hand on one of them, her fingers gripping and cautiously tugging the soft cotton fabric. "Daddy?"

Cole Turner lay on his stomach; his right hand slumped lazily across a cream colored pillow that cradled his head, his blue eyes closed and his lips only slightly parted. His left hand remained tightly clutched inward toward his chest in a loose fist. But the little girl was still determined to get his attention in spite of this, and she roughly gave the sock yet another vicious tug, her brown hair laying in tangles about her head. "Daddy?"

"Phoebe, I'm really not in the mood tonight," he mumbled groggily, shrugging off her hand with obvious indifference.

"No, Daddy, it's me. It's Alex," she persisted. "Are you awake?"

"Alex?" He finally managed to pry open his tired lids, and did his best to bring her into focus, quickly clearing his throat. She continued to stand in silence at the foot of the bed, her miniscule pink long sleeve shirt and floral pajama bottoms full of wrinkles as she sleepily rubbed her own exhausted eyes. "What are you doing up, sweetheart?"

"Daddy, there's someone in the house."

"Did you have a bad dream?" He remembered a time not all that long ago when Phoebe had made it through several rough nights on account of the Source's mischievous plan to bury his essence, and her nightmares had been inundated with menacing images of the atrocious evil that had forcefully invaded his being and filled a void without his consent. There were moments he just held her and repeatedly reassured her that he was himself again, and that whatever had driven them apart in the past was going to make amends in terms of their future. He never broke that promise, and although they'd been through a number of rough patches along the way, the little girl standing in front of him was a miracle he'd be forever thankful for.

"No, Daddy, someone's here, and they won't go away. I want them to, but they won't."

"I'm not sure I understand," he murmured, as he pulled himself into an upright position, aimlessly swinging his feet over the side of the bed, and stifling an incoming urge to yawn. His rangy frame was clothed in a white t-shirt with a single, solitary pocket positioned above the left side of his chest, and a pair of plaid pajama pants with blue and green hues. "There's someone in your room?"

"Yes, it's a lady and I saw her," Alex emphasized, energetically pointing a small finger towards her bedroom as if to further support what would otherwise have been deemed a severe lack of evidence on her part.

Cole's gaze followed the direction in which she urgently spoke of, and saw nothing but darkness. The door to his daughter's room hung wide open and bathed in layers upon layers of shadow, any impending dangers proving themselves incontestably inscrutable from his standpoint. "Okay, well, that's impossible, honey, because there's absolutely no way she could've gotten by me undetected. I may not be a demon anymore, but I think I would've still heard one coming here for a visit."

"I saw her," she impatiently declared. "I'm not lying, Daddy. She's still there, and she was standing right by my closet."

"It was probably just Aunt Paige," he reasoned. "Your mom must have sent her up to check on you. She's done that before, hasn't she?"

"Yes, but Aunt Paige is downstairs," she confirmed, as she went to take both of her hands in one of his, struggling to yank him forward. "I haven't heard her come up at all. She was talking to Mommy, I think." When he wouldn't budge, it only made her pull harder, her fingernails very close to digging into his skin. "Can't you just come look? Please?"

"You do realize that you have powers, too, don't you? And that you're free to use those powers at any time if you think you might be in trouble. I've got no problem with you setting the house on fire if it's for a good cause. Your mom and I are actually pretty familiar with fixing furniture on such short notice around here."

"I know, but this is different. She might not be evil, and if she isn't evil, it would be bad if I hurt her then, right? Maybe the Elders would be mad at me."

"We don't answer to the Elders," Cole clarified, throwing her a clever smirk. "That's what your Uncle Leo is for. It helps keep him in line."

"But sometimes we have to answer to them, because they want to know what we're doing," Alex reiterated, "and I don't want to have to wear a robe if I'm bad.”

"They're still telling that story? In either case, it's irrelevant," he brought forth, noting with some amusement that his daughter was now looking up at him with a strangely perplexed expression on her small face, her ongoing quest of perseverance having all been but forgotten for the moment. He regretfully comprehended the fact that he probably wasn't going to meet with any sense of victory on the matter unless he finally managed to cave on his current stance. It was a losing battle. "You're not going to drop this until I come with you, are you?"

"No," she adamantly whispered.

"Okay, all right, I'm game," he proclaimed. "Lead the way, young lady."

He watched as she threaded her fingers through his, and began to lead him down the same hallway she'd used to find him, dutifully pressing a finger to her lips with her free hand to silence him. Her demeanor was one of utter seriousness, and it always surprised him that she was entirely capable of maintaining it, her intense line of focus refusing to waver. But despite the brave facade he'd indefatigably shown her, he knew something was off the minute they graced the threshold, the muscles instantly tensing in his jaw. He broke contact suddenly to reach over and lightly squeeze his daughter's shoulder, as he thoroughly searched for anything that was even vaguely out of the ordinary. Her bed was a picture of untidy chaos; the covers having been languorously flung every which way, and the pillow clumsily propped up against the wooden headboard. A pair of cushy white slippers with mini purple polka dots lay overturned on the floor beside the nightstand table, one of them facing the opposite direction, and residing only inches apart from the first. The closet door hung slightly ajar, and was colorfully embellished with pictures sketched in crayon and marker, a small yellow sweater shoddily slung across the gold doorknob. Some pencils and pieces of notebook paper were piled on top of a pint-sized backpack perched on a nearby plastic chair against the far window.

"Well, I don't see anything, but I suppose she could still be hiding under the bed, couldn't she?" He got down upon his hands and knees and guardedly lifted the fuchsia comforter with its matching duvet cover, circumspectly surveying the contents underneath. A couple pairs of shoes were stacked on top of each other in a lazy heap, and beside them was a collection of misplaced children's books, dolls, and jewelry. "Nope, nobody under here, either. We really do need to have a discussion on cleaning up after yourself, though."

"What about the closet? Could you go and check in the closet, too, Daddy?"

"Would you feel better if I did?"

"Yes," she affirmed, her voice on the verge of breaking, but incredibly resolute. "Catrina said that the boogeyman sometimes captures lost souls and comes to take them when it's dark. She told me that some kids are never seen again and their parents can't find them anywhere. It's like the tooth fairy, but meaner." Her eyes suddenly grew big with fear, and she stopped a moment to take in a breath. "He needs to take the souls to the bad place with hot lava so they can't escape."

Cole raised a bewildered eyebrow, as he came to stand beside her, reaching over to playfully smooth her brown hair. "You're going to take the word of a girl who thinks her genetically enhanced intelligence is the way of our future?"

"We fight bad things all the time," she objected. "If there are witches and warlocks, there has to be a boogeyman somewhere, too."

"Not always, but be that as it may, I can almost guarantee you he's not going to come calling tonight- at least not on my watch." He went over to the single window framed by long, frilly white curtains, and checked to make sure the locks were still securely in place, giving them a firm shove for good measure before he stepped back. His only regret was that magic apparently knew no bounds for going and doing wherever or whatever it wanted, and he had more than enough personal experience he could attest to it from when Belthazor competently superseded his human half. "Besides, I paid him off good the last time I saw him, so you might just say he owes me one."

She only giggled at that. "You actually know him? Really?"

"Oh, yeah, we go way back," Cole assured her, smiling. "No one's going to hurt you, Ally, I promise. They'll have to answer to me first."

"Could you check the closet before you go?" she pleaded, still not altogether convinced.

He approved her tenacious request with a single nod, and flipped on the light switch to his left, studiously bathing the room in a bright glow. "Are you sure you don't just want me to stay with you until you fall asleep? Your mom and I could take turns checking in."

"Nope, just find her and send her home," Alex predicated, as she leapt up onto the unmade bed, frantically tucking her feet beneath her and pulling the covers up to her chest. "Maybe we could even call Aunt Piper and get The Book of Shadows to help. I think we need it."

"It's not personal gain if you're using your powers to protect yourself," he noted.

"I don't think she likes you," she insinuated, as she inched herself closer to the headboard. "No. I know she doesn't like you."

"Ally, there's no one in this room but you and me."

"You're wrong, Daddy."

"Okay, you know what? These games aren't funny anymore. You need to stop this." He sat down beside her, struggling as best he could to maintain his composure, his voice dangerously low. "I understand how you might be feeling left out because the twins have been taking up a lot of my time. But it doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, and it doesn't mean that I love you any less. I've just had a rough day today, and I'm very tired."

"I'm not making it up!" she argued. "I'm not, I swear. There was a lady in the house, and she was in my room."

"Yes, and your mom already explained all of this to me before you were born. You've got an imaginary friend, and that's great, it really is. You're young yet, and it's just part of growing up. You can tell me all about her tomorrow morning when we've both had more rest. Maybe we can even sit down and have a little...tea party or something together. You can introduce me, and it'll be a lot of fun."

"But I didn't imagine her. I saw her. I'm not lying about it."

"Fine." He walked over to the closet door, yanking it the rest of the way open, and began to rifle his way through it. There were various shirts, hoodies, skirts, and dresses clumped together on clear hangers lining the long metal bar inhabiting either side of the wall, and an upper level shelf containing scrapbooks, photo albums, and shoe boxes filled to the brim with treasured mementoes. A couple of shoes and a single pair of beige sandals took up space on the ground below, along with a group of forgotten stuffed animals that she'd likely outgrew and hadn't bothered to include in her playdates anymore. He started to shift his body to address her at having been unable to find an inkling of truth to support her theory in his brief search, and heard her babbling incoherantly to herself, her speech summarily subsiding when she suddenly gasped low in her throat. Before he could utter a single word in response, he was violently charged without warning, and roughly knocked off his feet. He was rendered breathless for a moment upon impact, and fought to get his bearings, his line of sight rapidly beginning to blur.

Cold, damp hands clamped themselves wildly around his neck, and long nails dug forcefully into his skin, puncturing it as he desperately fought to free himself from the hard and powerful grip. His own fingers came into contact with solid, naked flesh, and long, straight blonde hair only further obstructed his view while he continued to fight to overbalance the figure on top of him, letting out a low growl when he felt an excruciating blow brush the side of his face. The hold on him had loosened for a mere second, and he saw it as an opportunity to finally free himself, taking his remaining strength and vehemently hauling the perpetrator to her feet and into the nearby wall. "Who are you, and what the hell..." But his interrogation met with little success when he eventually managed to get a decent look at the culprit, and he literally went numb inside. "Stop. Just stop it, all right? I'm not...I'm not going to hurt you. You're obviously very confused right now, and if you'd just let me-"

But she continued to fight him and struggle madly in his grasp, her blue eyes darting uncontrollably around the room in a state of panic, her head mechanically whipping itself from left to right in a series of repetitious movements.

"Do you want me to get her a glass of water?" Alex apprehensively volunteered, trying to be heard over the commotion.

"You're a murderer," the woman accused, her tone both hoarse and unforgiving. She bravely met his startled gaze straight on, her lips trembling. "I remember you, I know who you are."

"So do a lot of people," he admitted, but his heart had already begun to ache for her, and the vicious scars of the past had unanticipatedly resurfaced without sufficient warning, waiting patiently to consume him against his better judgment- strenuously tying him to a life he felt both disconnected from and yet strangely obligated to at the same time.

"I'll scream," she hissed, as tears filled her eyes. "I swear I'll scream."

"I told you, I'm not going to hurt you," Cole vowed softly, holding her in place. "I just want you to hear me out."

"Get your hands off me!"

"Ally, go and get me a blanket," he snapped, not intending for his words to come out nearly as callous as they sounded, his conflicting code of conduct instantly bemoaning it.

The little girl obediently sprinted off without hesitation, though, and raced to the far corner of her room, where she knelt in front of a large wooden chest located to the left of her bed. She diligently opened it up with breakneck speed, and let her tiny hands rummage through the contents, pulling out a gray fleece throw blanket from the very bottom. She scrambled back towards her father with it clutched awkwardly in her arms, zealously tossing it to him. He pushed it up to the woman's scantily clad outline and drew it around her shoulders, ignoring her ongoing state of protest as he shielded her with one arm and led her to the foot of the bed, forcing her to sit. "That's it, there you go. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"You're a murderer," she alleged again. "You're evil." Her beautiful face was soaked with fresh tears now, and they tumbled down her pale cheeks as she pounded a helpless fist against him, her feeble attempts meeting frequently with nothing but defeat.

"Well, you're the one who sought me out, so taking that into account, I honestly think you'll come to reconsider that last part," he urged. "But in the meantime, let's just calm down, and take it easy, okay? We'll just sit here and we'll talk. God knows we probably have more than enough to talk about."

"You can't take me again. I won't let you."

The stabbing, unending pain that had corrupted and churned his insides now threatened to bleed him dry, and it was as if his entire world and state of being had just crumbled beneath him, a thousand memories crawling out from the darkness and going forth into the light. The woman before him had been granted the kind of second chance that no mortal in her predicament should have been blessed with, and yet here she was, as unmarked and alive as she'd been before her mournful death. "No," he disclosed, "you won't, Laurel, because I won't let that happen. Not anymore."

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