Faded Fragments
part 11
"Oh c'mon, Seth, you know he's probably over there right now telling that little witch everything we've said to him. I mean, Nicholas Merrick is stupid, but he's not that stupid. He's going to blow our damn cover."
Seth Kellerman simply smiled, clasping his hands lightly behind his back, as he stepped directly in front of his friend, his eyes gleaming with dark intensity. "And that, Patrick, is precisely where I stand with him. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way."
"I'm sorry?"
"You really have to keep up with the times."
"Yeah, well, it's a little hard to do that when your boss doesn't exactly share everything with you, isn't it?"
He sighed. "Contrary to what you may believe....based on the assumptions you've witnessed here already, I'm not a man who lifts his hand to teach an old dog new tricks. As I've said in the past, I'm a man of my word." He nearly laughed, as he drawled out a faint yawn, his temperament growing weary. "I want Merrick to tell Turner what he's discovered. I want him to let that poor excuse for a man know what we're up to- what he's up against. With all due respect, Patrick, I'm counting on it. The Charmed Ones are currently no more than a brushed aside pile of has beens- who can't, for the life of them, find out why they fell apart. Amusing, isn't it, how he would meddle with them, if only to see his little wife in his arms again?"
"So what of Merrick? What exactly do we do to a man who has betrayed us in more ways than one?"
"Isn't the way to a man's heart, literally pulling it from his chest, and watching him scream in agony, as the dagger comes down to slice off what's left of his sanity? I mean, far be it for me to paint a better picture, right?"
"And now you want to kill him," Patrick murmured.
"You...suddenly have a problem with that now? Or are you just scared of that other man that allowed you to so affectionately display a bit of your humiliated dignity in so public an environment?"
"If you're referring to Turner, I've got no qualms about killing the bastard. Merrick, on the other hand, leaves something to be desired. Maybe you're right. Maybe he could come in real handy. But know that I'm not making any bets on it. Both men are still threats, and if we expect to-"
"And I really hate reinstating the obvious," Seth cut him off. "But I make the decisions here."
"Forgive me for actually thinking I was any more than a humble assistant who did his master's bidding," Patrick quipped under her breath.
"That's precisely what you are. You said it yourself. You're not the kind of man that would dare challenge me in the height of power. We've reached that height, Patrick, and yet you've proven your intentions lie slated in your own personal case of greed."
"Yes, and even though it was my plan, I'm apparently not getting anything out of it. Am I, sir?"
"We should all be content in living with the fact that good will simply cease to exist."
"Or we could've forced Merrick to smarten up and go up against the ally he's always dreamed of."
"Yes, and I'm really having a lot of trouble realizing who the real idiot is here, Patrick."
"And you'd sink as low as to compare me to Nicholas Merrick, would you?"
"Merrick knows where he stands. But tell me...." He stared at him a moment, propping a set of fingers beneath his chin, his other hand resting beneath his elbow. "Do you? I mean, do you really know where you are in a world filled with chaos? Or is it all just fun and games?"
"Isn't that what we're giving him? A game?" he snapped back.
"Yes, but it doesn't have to play out the way-"
"Doesn't make any difference, does it? We need reinforcements, and you know it."
"Reinforcements..."
"If I recall, Phoebe Halliwell is now in very deep with someone we must've created. Let's bring that confrontation directly to her."
"Yes, but in this world, she knows him, Patrick."
"Exactly. What better way to outwit her? Turner has no idea who it is, and he won't be there to find out or help her. Doesn't get any easier than that, sir."
"Who did you have in mind?"
Patrick held back a laugh, as he calmly rubbed his hands over the legs of his black suit pants, an eery smile plastered across his pale face. "If this is our world now, he's already been invented."
"So he has," Seth muttered carefully, clearly perturbed by his companion's cryptic attitude.
Patrick merely snapped his fingers, watching as a figure emerged from out of the ceiling above them, entirely clothed in black, a large scar carved deep into the crevice of skin planted on his left cheek. He bore a large amount of wavy red hair, his complexion drowning in freckles, with a lean moustache protruding from beneath his nose. His hands were rough and dry, and appeared to have been weathered to the bone, as he turned them into fists at his sides, his muscular build yielding upon the summons, his structure still tense. Hesitantly, he bowed before the two opponents, lowering himself to the ground for a brief moment.
"Jake Randolph," he mused. "Been awhile, hasn't it?"
"I'd say it's been a lifetime, Patrick, but then again, I never did take this much pleasure in killing since the dawn of the nineteenth century."
"But you're certainly good at it, aren't you?"
"The best," he offered, a lazy grin creeping up over his features, as he briefly arched an eyebrow.
"And I trust you know why I've asked you here?"
"Already in progress," he sided.
"Seth here seems just a little skeptical on what it is you can do. Care to give him a little demonstration?"
"Demonstrations usually require larger portions of my time, as well as a small fee," he explained promptly. "See, I've gotten a bit demanding over the years, Patrick, and I find cash works really well in paying off the rest of my debts. So to be honest, this little witch is still gonna cost you a pretty penny. Hope you're still willing to pay up."
"Just as long as you stick to the story."
"He's an assasin," Seth whispered, clearly amazed, as his eyes widened to the fullest capacity, admiration detecting itself in his expression.
"Only the Goddamn best," Jake repeated smugly.
"I don't want Turner harmed this early on," he spoke up. "If he does get in the way, remove him without using violence. If I find out you did, and I...will find out you did- you won't be answering to Patrick anymore. You'll be answering to me. And know this, Mr. Randolph. When a failure fails into my hands, the only way I see fit to remedy it, is to destroy it."
"I see your reputation precedes you, Seth."
"Does it, now?"
"While you haven't got my word, you've got my loyalty."
"Not good enough."
"For you I figured it wouldn't have to be," Jake uttered simply, shrugging his shoulders.
"Then you underestimate me, Mr. Randolph."
"I'll deal with the Halliwell sister," he continued. "But I decline dealing with you, unless I have to do so under pending circumstances."
"Is that a threat?"
"Yeah, but I can already see it's 'not good enough,' " Jake quipped.
"You're clearly not what one would expect."
"Same goes for you."
"Don't step out of line. The entire operation could be torn to shreds by one little slip-up, and you know it."
"Yeah, but being cautious always seems to land me in a pile of raging hell, doesn't it?"
"I'll leave that for you to decide," Kellerman tossed out, as he sank into an armchair to his right, throwing up a hand as if to acknowledge his conditions, calmly reaching for a glass of wine. "Do give it some thought, Jake. You might like what you see."
"And if I don't?"
"I'm afraid there'll be no light at the end of the tunnel for you," he concluded abruptly. "But don't worry. With me, there's no need to make funeral arrangements. You'd be burnt to a crisp before you could even try."
"You're smooth, Seth. Real smooth. You know that?"
"Scare her," Patrick interupted, turning to Jake. Shrugging, he shot a sharp glare Seth's way, his eyes literally burning into his. "Scare her, and leave her. We'll party later. And guess what, Jake? Seth's probably just jealous it won't be thrown in his honor."
**********
Cole Turner slowly approached the battered apartment complex located on the very edge of the street, his eyes roaming down to the slip of paper he'd jotted information down on prior to his trip, the scrawled handwriting appearing as instant relief, in sharp contrast to the rundown piece of brick he found himself halting at in the doorway. The lawn was unmowed, having been littered with dozens of hapless odds and ends, and birds dropped down from time to time to try and stake their claim on bits and pieces of recently tossed fast food. He winced, bringing a hand to the creaky knob, as he twisted it and quickly let himself inside. Breathing a heavy sigh, he tossed it shut behind him, his gaze travelling to the names slated in black ink to his left. His finger ran over them, finally landing on his choice near the very bottom, her residence all the way up on the third floor.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself, as he went and boarded the elevator, which suprisingly enough, bore no resemblance to the neglected living quarters, and ended up working without any trouble at all. "Apartment three D."
He rapped his knuckles across the wooden door rather abruptly, leaning back on his heels, as he awaited a response, his hands finding themselves tucked into the pockets of his jeans, suddenly not knowing what to do with them.
"Look, apparently I was just notified I've been backed up on bills I had no idea existed, so if you wouldn't mind coming back another time, that'd be great!"
His eyes widened, his lips forming a soft smile. "I'm...not from the collection agency!" he called back, half of him holding back a short laugh.
It was yanked open then, a tired Prue Halliwell eyeing him up, as she placed her hands on her hips, surveying his profile with the slightest hint of interest, as a frown deepened her features. "Well, well, well. The dead really do rise again."
"Before you shut the door in my face, you have to know that I'm not here to ask for money- I'm here to ask for help."
"Oh, God, Cole, does it really make a difference? I mean, I wake up in some guy's house at one in the morning, wondering what the hell I'm doing there, and the next thing I know, the idiot wants to call the cops because he doesn't recognize me. Like I even know what I was doing there! I spent all afternoon looking for Andy, but he's obviously nowhere to be found- might as well have jumped off the face of the earth to leave me here to suffer." She sighed. "So then I look in this purse I didn't even know I had, and I somehow came across the fact that I actually reside in this dump. There are no maids, there are no desk clerks, and some of these clothes haven't been washed for a week."
"Sounds like my old place."
"Oh, and wasn't that a blessing in diguise," she quietly quipped between her teeth.
"You know me?"
"Are you okay?"
He lifted an eyebrow. "You tell me."
"You look the same. I honestly thought you'd have some horns growing out of your head if we're really stuck here in hell or something, but you're the same old annoying brother in law I depised with a passion before I got plunged into chaos and big time disaster. I mean, I'm a real mess. I can't find the hairdryer, I owe forty bucks on my cable bill, and I can't even find anything to eat."
"Hmm. I actually think it all suits you quite well."
"What's going on?"
"Funny you should ask. Because that's become my new favorite question, as of late. And when I know even half the answer, I think I may just decide to give you a ring."
"Phone's dead," she mumbled.
"And while I really wish I could shed a tear and evoke some pity, we have larger issues at stake here. Much larger."
"What are you talking about?"
"Heh. Where do I start? I...I mean, I hate the beginning and I hate what's supposed to be the end. Give or take, it could just take a full day to rehash my misery."
"Try me," she added, lightly crossing her arms over her chest, her bare feet continuing to sink themselves into the carpet below.
"Are you sure it's really you?"
"Cole, would anyone else be this annoyed with you for knocking at my door, and- for even looking at me?"
"Paige," he noted fondly, a grin crowding his handsome face, as he held up a single finger.
"Yeah, well she's not here right now, so spill."
"That's because she's with Ally and Nick," he filled her in. "Something....really weird is going on here, and it happens to involve your other two sisters not bothering to know who the hell they are anymore."
"Piper and Phoebe-"
"Believe they are leading, and were meant to lead different lives, while I've just been dumped for a Clay, and Piper is back with Dan."
"Wait. Dan- neighbor Dan? With the house next door?"
"I have no idea. All I know, is that Leo is out of the picture and your sister is happy to be leaving her magic free life with a magic free boyfriend to top it all off. She says the Power of Three broke up, and you guys don't even keep in contact."
"And what you've just confessed to me is seriously impossible." She groaned. "Either way, I'm not playing along, Cole. Find somebody else to practice your comedy routine on, and please just do me a favor, and let me get back to figuring out how I got here, alright? You're not wanted."
"Yeah, and I may have just lost Phoebe. Not that I'd expect you to care, Prue, but the least you could do is lend a damn hand."
"How could you lose Phoebe? You and I both know she sticks to you like glue. Much to my unnoticed dismay, I might add. You're pulling my leg."
"Then why don't you explain to me how it is you end up with a one night stand, when you claim to be solely devoted to one man? Explain to me how you'd even consider living like this. Explain to me why you even know who I still am. Because God help me, it isn't you, Prue. None of it is."
"And I'm solving my problems, Cole. Maybe the best thing you can do right now? Is try solving your own."
"You really don't believe me, do you?"
"Not in this lifetime. But you get credit for attempting a good run of your mouth." Blowing a piece of dark hair out of her eyes, she bent down to retrieve a crumpled sweater, noting a fairly large stain smeared into the fabric. "Ugh, gross."
"Look, I can prove it. Paige knows too. She knows everything I do."
"Which is what, exactly? Oh. Wait. I think I know this one-"
"Come with me."
"Why?"
"You know there's something wrong. You can feel it, can't you? Just like we did."
"What constitutes wrong?" she murmured.
"You want to know more, and it's killing you to see your life turned so upside down. That's why you're acting like this. You're hurt."
"And I suppose you really know what that is?"
"Dammit, Prue, trust me, okay?"
"And every time you say those words, I feel like I'm going to be sick. You can't just come in here, and pretend the world has been warped and recharged. You just can't Cole. It's not a decision for you to make."
"You're also scared," he whispered.
"How would you know what I-"
"I want my daughter to know the love of her mother again. I want her to come back to me. I can't do that without you. And you can't get Andy back, unless you have me. So like it or not, we're compromising. You can come along whining like a baby, or you can start to finally see what I'm about." He took a deep breath, pausing a moment. "Interested?"
"Great. I'm stuck on the funny farm," she muttered, as she grabbed a jacket out of the heap piled high toward the nearest wall.