Faded Fragments
part 18
"Home, sweet home," Phoebe Halliwell declared casually, nonchalantly shrugging as she threw down her shoulder bag, proceeding to cross her arms protectively over her chest.
"So you guys officially live together?" Cole Turner offered quickly, hesitantly sitting himself down on the sofa, his eyes scanning the room with a profound interest, as he propped his feet upon the nearest coffee table with little to no thought surrounding the gesture.
"Don't get too comfortable, buddy," she advised plainly, throwing him a look. "I'm not exactly proud of myself for skipping out today. But, well....you know...now that I've somehow got you all to myself at the moment, maybe it's also a good time to hear about that mysterious little project of yours that hasn't exactly been given a proper name yet."
"Project..."
"The project," she repeated. "The one you so vehemently insisted you speak with me about. Ring a bell?"
"Oh, that project," he mused carefully, nodding.
"Uh huh."
"Well, if you'd be so kind as to get me some ice for where you failed to yield in smashing my face to smithereens, I'll be more than glad to assist in that information of my own free will. Have we got a deal?"
"As much a deal as we'll ever have," she mumbled, as she headed off down the narrow stretch of floor, kicking off her shoes in the hallway, her feet now entirely bare as they creaked across the noisy wooden floorboards.
"If it's any consolation, I don't think we'll ever be allowed back in there again," he commented, quietly laughing to himself, as he focused his frame of vision on nothing in particular, a smile drifting over his features.
"Didn't like the food, anyway!" she called back, with a short chuckle of her own.
"Good one," he whispered, as he let himself fall back against the soft cushions, letting the sofa catch and cradle his head.
"And since when was I ever your wife?!" she returned.
He shut his eyes. "I'm sorry?"
"You told Parkinson-"
"Seth."
"Seth," she emphasized, "that I was your wife. When did this happen, and why was I never informed?"
"Secret wedding," he murmured. "You might've lacked the ability to gain an invitation."
"And with me being the bride, that couldn't have been good at all, could it?"
"Actually, the show went on without you, and we all had a damn great time at the reception."
"Happy to hear it. I guess I was never the life of the party no matter where you took me, hmm? Shunned from my own wedding."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he added, the corners of his mouth forming a slow smile.
"Mind telling me who the best man was?"
The smile grew wider then. "Clay."
"Oh, really? How...appropriate. I suppose that was all your doing, and I also suppose I objected like no tomorrow."
"It was and you did," he agreed.
"So how are we going to do this, tough guy?"
Opening his blues once again, he found her standing directly in front of him, a small bottle, a few Q-tips, and bag of ice in her hand, her right foot tapping absentmindedly across the floor, as he detected just the slightest bit of impatience clouding her tone. She'd changed out of the long skirt she'd had on, and had replaced it with a crisp pair of denim cut-offs, her white spaghettit strap and hooded sweatshirt zipped and still intact, continuing to reside on her petite frame. He started to reach for the contents, but she quickly pulled them away, moving her arm deliberately out of his reach, as her free hand set itself fondly against her hip. "You're serious," he said softly.
"Yes, and taking you to the hospital would leave them with a lot more questions than I'd care to answer right now. I'm not exactly inclined to inform them I once carried the title black belt Barbie. So, if it's all the same to you, Mr. Turner, we can do this the hard way, or you can be a gentleman and do your best to cooperate."
"Hard way?" he questioned.
"Oh, believe me, you honestly don't even want to know what that is at this stage."
"I don't?"
"Nope," she sided. "So if you don't mind, I'm just going to make myself comfortable and get started."
"And I have absolutely no objections to that," he stated honestly.
"Good." She slowly placed the items she held onto the sofa cushion with careful ease to the right of her, as she gently straddled him, their faces no more than a few inches apart. Glancing down at his hands and their positioning, he debated whether or not to raise them, and rest them atop her slender frame or keep them drawn to his sides. She barely acknowledged them as they finally came to rest just below her hips, already taking the ingredients inside the bottle and letting a mere drop fall onto a single Q-tip. She saw him wince when it touched his skin, close to pulling away, as she gingerly grasped his unshaven chin in the palm of her hand.
"What's in there?" he whispered.
"It's from my Grams," she sided. "I always considered her to be wise beyond her years...well, most of the time, anyway- so I'm thinking it probably won't do any damage. Could...could you just turn a little to the right?"
"What do you mean, probably?"
"Trust me, Cole. Alright? I'm not going to hurt you again."
"In that case, be extra gentle with me," he advised, managing a short laugh. "Never did trust Grams as far as I could throw."
She pulled away for an instant, looking into his blues, as her mouth crept into a smile. "You knew her?"
"We're old friends," he assured her, raising a hand up to give her an 'okay' with his thumb and forefinger, as he dropped it back down again, chuckling to himself, despite the stinging pain that graced his beautiful complexion.
"Liar," she breathed.
"Oh. No. I'm not making it up. She came to Piper's wedding, didn't she?"
"Piper didn't have a wedding, Cole. She's never even considered getting engaged. She and Dan are dating, nothing more."
He watched as she brushed her thumb across the black eye she'd put there, her lips offering just the slightest hint of a pout as she heard him catch his breath, once again proclaiming just the softest wince. Without thinking, he calmly reached out and took her wrist in his hand, his eyes trailing her with the smallest bit of curiosity in them. "No hard feelings," he murmured. "Battle scars."
She didn't break away, and just stared at him, her entire being experiencing a flash of energy that surprisingly made her feel more alive than she had in her entire lifetime. His fingers were gentle, and she could feel herself longing for something she never really had the ability to reach for before, her conscience always overpowering her weakening fears and desires. "You sound like you've been through a lot."
He nodded. "Well, considering the fact that my demonic half was living for well over a hundred years, I guess that's more or less accurate."
"Demonic half," she repeated, letting it run over her tongue. "I'm...somehow guessing that's not a joke."
"Belthazor," he mused quietly. "He hasn't been with me for sometime now. And it's not that I regret it, believe me. Quite the opposite, actually. The powers I picked up in the wasteland let me accomplish a lot more of what I couldn't before."
"You talk about it like you still enjoy using them."
"I do. I mean, it's not like they're never put to use for a good cause."
"Such as?"
"So much about me, but never enough about you," he noted.
"There's nothing more to tell," she returned, a single shrug of her shoulders surpassing her.
"Phoebe-"
"Hold still," she instructed him, as she applied more of the ointment, watching him grit his teeth, as he quickly let go of her wrist, trying his best to brush her hand out of the way.
"Ouch."
"If you're half- if you were half demon, wouldn't that mean you'd heal faster?"
"You have absolutely no problem with that?"
"What?"
"The fact that I used to be a demon to begin with. You can't believe in yourself for what you are, but you'd take me on without a moment's hesitation?"
"That depends what you mean by taking you on," she countered, her brown eyes falling onto his, as her fingers once again began toying with his eye, the soft tips fingering the wound.
"Phoebe, I'm just as human as you are. Given I had a cut or something, it might not take nearly as long, and some, if they're small enough, might even heal themselves instantly- but it's besides the point. You don't really want to know, and you're only stalling for more time."
"More time," she whispered. "Maybe I just like taking care of you."
"Maybe?"
"Right now," she pointed out, throwing him a warm half smile.
"I can take care of this just fine. Just give me the ice, and-"
"Do you think it's coincidence that he found me?" she asked then, her hands unknowingly falling onto his chest, as she moved just a bit closer, her expression suddenly collapsing.
"I think Seth's motives don't even have you in mind, but...it's more along the lines of him wanting to hurt me. Because to see you hurt..." He looked away then, giving her legs a small pat, as he simply shrugged, his blues fading in their brightness. "It doesn't matter. Whatever happens between us, it doesn't matter."
"You don't want to let it," she said softly.
"Phoebe, you've got a life that has nothing to do with me. You said it yourself. No amount of change on your part is going to alter what you have with Clay. I'm beginning to understand that, and as stupid as this sounds, I'm starting to accept it." He slowly reached a hand up to run a thumb along her cheek, his heart nearly ready to crack in his chest, as he felt the softness of her skin, his eyes transpiring into a deep pool of sadness. "I won't bother you anymore after this. You have my gratitude, but I don't think it's possible to have what I came for. At least not now. I made a mistake and I'm sorry."
"Came for?" she choked out, as a single tear ran down her cheek before she could stop it, her hand immediately rushing to tug it away.
"I made a mistake," he repeated. "I see that."
"And I said I was sorry about what I did, didn't I?"
"We both know it's not about that anymore."
"So you never meant it," she offered. "Everything you said...."
"It was every bit as much truth as I wanted to give you. Unfortunately, you didn't need it."
"I didn't need it."
"No, and I can't do this. Knowing what you feel, and what you're showimg me- look, it'll pass. And I don't need the...Phoebe, I'm tired of hurting. Alright? I'm just...tired of hurting."
"Okay," she decided.
"Okay," he echoed.
"But I still can't help but think about what you said. Cole, when Seth- what you did, it was clear you didn't want him anywhere near me. And yet I don't even knwo why this man took on the trouble of becoming someone else just so he could talk to me. Clay assured me Henry Parkinson was probably the nicest man you'd ever know, and at that party he really was. He was your all around average charmer. I'm not just saying that. He went out of his way to talk to me. There were about a thousand other women in that room, but I was the one he wanted to sit down and have a conversation with. And not long after that, you show up out of the blue, and make me feel these things for you, and I don't even know why I'm starting to feel them."
"And if it means that much, I think you should just get on with what you were doing before I even-"
"So you set me up. Yeah, I figured as much."
"No," he started.
"Here," she told him, easing the bag of ice into his hand, as she started to get back onto her feet again. "Just keep this on the bruise until-"
In one swift movement he'd caused her to tumble down to his level, softly touching his lips to hers, as his hands gently grasped either side of her face, urging, almost pleading with her to return the gesture. She had no choice but to once again place her legs around him, her hands eagerly skimming through locks of his hair, her lids shut tight, as she lost herself to the moment completely, surrendering herself to him with all she had.
She felt the softest tingle against her feet then, and fell to the side of the sofa, doubling over with laughter, as his hands proceeded to tickle her, her pretty face lighting up with a big smile. She put her arms in front of her to try and block the incoming attacks, but the force of resistance she'd practiced so many times, had somehow let itself down- letting her guard down, causing her to realize for the first time in her life that she was entirely vulnerable with a man she barely knew, and yet at the same time, felt she had literally known him her whole life through. "Spend the day with me," she whispered.
"Phoebe, I'm not-"
"I'm asking," she tossed back. "But come to think of it, I don't even want it to be up for discussion."
"And I'm not going to have you doing this out of- point being, there's someone watching both of us now, and if anything, I have to get back and see what they're up to."
"Get back..."
"Home," he offered. "As close to home as I'll ever be, anyway. Lately, the cards just haven't been drawn in my favor."
"Oh. Well...sure, I knew you would have to, sooner or later. I guess- you know, maybe I should just get into work after all, you know? They could probably use me today, and I might be able to get some loose ends out of the way. There's this one deadline that's seriously going to kill me, and if I don't-"
"You're rambling again," he stated fondly, throwing her a wink.
"Only you would know."
"And you don't need to punish yourself because of me."
"Please don't go," she begged.
He pursed his lips, helping himself up, as he absentmindedly stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You chased me out of your office the day you say I first met you, you scream at the top of your lungs when I save you from some guy whose looking to make you into a big pile of who knows what, you refuse breakfast, only to later agree, if only for the mere sake of punching my lights out in front of everybody there, and proceed to have a major guilt trip after it's all said and done. What the hell am I missing here? Because it sure has to be something."
"And I've never...look, I thought we actually had fun today."
"Yes, this what my day usually consists of. A bag of ice and a few Q-tips."
"You know that's not all this was, and I'm going to prov-"
"There's a lot you don't know about me yet, and something tells me you're not going to."
"Then how about friends?" she stated then.
"Friends."
"Talk amongst friends? Pals? Buddies?"
"Phoebe."
"Look, there's a lot I think I'd like to show you, and if my instincts are right, I think you'd really enjoy it."
"Phoebe, there's a reason why I have to go. I have a little someone who I care the world for back home, and leaving her in the company of three people who have no idea how to raise-"
"Girlfriend?"
He smiled then, running a hand across his scruffy visage, lightly shaking his head. "Daughter."
"Oh."
"She's...I mean...it's- it's complicated."
"So you're divorced," she said quietly.
"Not quite."
"Okay, I don't...I don't understand."
"I'll make you another deal," he reasoned, as he stepped closer to her, carefully placing his hands on her face once again, as the tips of his thumbs brushed neatly against her jawline.
She shut her eyes now, her hands going over his wrists, as she calmly took hold of them. "Yes?"
"I'm going to stay the night," he whispered.
A soft grin spread across her features, as she flushed slightly.
"But it means you're going to hear some things you may not want to. It means you're going to have to suspend belief for just a minute, if I'm going to tell you everything I know."
"You're staying," she whispered again.
"I never get tired of seeing you smile," he added, widening his own. "Not even here."
"Clay and I had a fight," she confessed then. "Didn't really want to tell you that before, but I assumed you probably surmised it all on your own. So unless he's this quick in forgiving me, I don't think we'll be seeing him around here for awhile."
"So he doesn't-"
"Sometimes," she filled in.
"I'm not sure what that means."
"We share it here and there, but for the most part it's mine."
"Well, that's comforting."
"Are we still up for that free meal you promised me?"
"Is the kitchen that way?" he asked, indicating a finger, as he fumbled for directions, a lazy smile spread over his face.