Fractured Mirth
part 2
"I know you probably can't hear me, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm here. I'm...here and I'm sorry I wasn't with you. We kind of ended the search for those guys early, and Paige and caught a little tv. That's when- well, I saw your picture, and I came right here." Phoebe Halliweel paused rather briefly, a hand positioning itself beneath her elbow, as she calmly wiped away a tear with the other, her face stained with those that had already come and gone. "Why didn't you use your powers? I know we never really- the point is, you should have tried to defend yourself. You've still got a whole other half inside of you. Dammit, Cole. I could have helped, I could have done something. It's not up to you to keep playing superman. Why didn't you just shimmer away from them while you had the chance? You know he's just going to send me of them out, and it's only going to get harder on us. Dammit," she whispered again.
"Can I...help you?" a voice startled her, causing her to jump nearly a foot into the air from the shock. Rachel Burke stared at her with a puzzling frown, her red hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, her eyes falling over the figure in the bed, his lids tossing to and fro, his fingers flinching ever so slightly.
"You're the woman," Phoebe stated calmly, brushing away a few more tears. "The one that was on the news. I...saw you earlier."
"Did you know John?" she asked curiously, her arms going protectively around her chest.
"John?"
"John Grant. He was injured in that struggle in the allyway that you heard about. Agent...John Grant."
"No. No, I...I saw Cole's...my boyfriend's photo, and I came to- I don't know anything about a John. I thought there was only one man involved. Is he here too? Do you know if he remembers anything?"
Rachel smiled, raising her eyebrows, as she tried to maintain her composure as best she could. "You're looking at him."
Phoebe let her gaze run over the man who was now completely sound asleep, once again shaking her head. His breathing rose and fell with careful precision, his faintly stubbled profile mirroring his full lips. She knew those lips well...she knew the shape of his nose, his eyes...the way he used and gestured to her with those hands...she knew him. "I don't understand. There's....there's obviously a mistake. That man is Cole Turner. He currently lives near me at 1329 Prescott Street, and I met him at a - I think they must have gotten their identities mixed up. They had to. Because that- is not John. I think I would know Cole if I saw him, trust me."
"And you are?"
"Phoebe Halliwell. I swear to you that he knows me. I'm not lying, and when he wakes up, you'll see that."
"If he wakes up," she pointed out.
"And I don't remember anyone calling the FBI in to interrogate him," she uttered, her hands threatening to form fists at her sides.
"He is FBI," she insisted. "Bailey Malone and I think this might be connected to Duane Robertson. But seeing as we still don't have Robertson in our reach to question him yet, all we can do is wait until John comes to."
"There's just a simple case of mistaken identity," she insisted. "And that- he looks exactly like him."
Rachel sighed. "I can see reasoning with you is no longer becoming an option, Miss Halliwell."
"So call security," she threatened.
"Hardly. What I would suggest you do is call this boyfriend of yours to confirm alibis."
"I can prove it," she whispered.
"What does Mr. Turner do?"
"Excuse me?"
"His occupation?"
"He had to leave his job under some...odd circumstances, but I assure you, it's all prefectly legit."
"Then he clearly doesn't work for our branch." Rachel shrugged, her eyes wincing with the smallest movemnet, as she took a single step forward. "Please. Go home. Get some rest, call your boyfriend, and we'll keep you posted on how Agent Grant is making progress. You-"
"But I want to stay. I have to stay."
"I'm afraid there isn't much you can do here," she concluded simply.
"Is he going to make it?"
"Miss Halliwell, please. The best thing you can do right now is leave him alone. Trust me. He has protection. No one's going to get to him in here."
"Did Robertson have any...out of the ordinary characteristics?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Did the police find anything that wasn't....per se....human?"
"I'm actually not at liberty to discuss those kinds of details," Rachel filled her in, shaking her head. "You're a civilian. You have no relation to this case."
"But it might be a clue as to who did this to him, and why."
"And why are you trying to save a man you don't even know?"
"If we could just-"
"Who are you?" Rachel prompted, her hands pinning themselves against her hips. "I mean, really? Because strange women don't just barge into hospitals and claim to have lost their one and only love to a string of unnatural barbarians....which, in all honesty, I seriously don't think is the answer we're looking for here. I can guarantee you that whoever did this was entirely human and void of thought. Now, I don't think who you think you are, but I'm starting to realize that's besides the point. Leave."
"If I'm going to leave, he's going with me," she stated calmly, her face unflinching.
"And maybe I shouldn't have put off calling security," Rachel quipped. "Better yet, maybe I'll just have you removed myself. This man needs medical attention. He's broken several ribs and he barely made it here on his own. All in all, I'd say he's already a million times braver for even trying."
"He didn't put up any kind of a-"
She shook her head. "His weapon was pretty much destroyed to shreds, so you do the math on that one."
"And they're suspecting Robertson is still the culprit," she muttered.
"Hey, I never said I was in agreement with that notion," she added.
"I saw him. He's-"
"Where?"
"No. I mean...I saw him on the news...before...at my house. I thought they should have damn well caught up to and prosecuted his ass by now, but I don't think he'd have a motive for wanting to hurt Cole, either."
"John," she emphasized.
"Sorry," she whispered. "Is...is that like an alias or something?"
"Alias?" Rachel returned, confused.
"Yeah. He never told me he was working undercover with you guys. I...I didn't even know he had FBI qualities."
"Apparently, we're still talking about two different people. It's either that, or your boyfriend was cheating on you with a woman named Kate."
"Kate?"
"She recently passed away. She was a victim of a robbery while John was present. He did everything in his power to save her, to protect her- he even put his job on the line. But in the end, it wasn't enough. I guess he realized too late how much he cared for her, and he had to endure the consequences of her death. Now, if this is still even remotely the same man you're continually referring to, it's beyond me how he can appear in two places at once. Because if I know John, he did grieve over Kate, and she did mean something to him."
"I'm sorry."
"Look, don't be, alright? These things happen. You didn't- I'm sure Cole is fine. He's probably been at home this whole time waiting for you to get in touch with him. Were you guys supposed to get together?"
"We met up earlier, but my sister and I left him to head home. Matter of fact, he was pretty close to the location on the news. It looked vaguely familiar, and I could have sworn I'd been there myself at one time, too."
"Do you have any idea who might have...."
She shook her head. "But I'm not about to think this was pure coincidence. Whoever did this was after-"
"They got the wrong guy," she added, her eyes widening. "I mean, this saying your story is for real...they probably attacked the wrong man. Just the fact that he was armed, probably posed a big threat for them. They obviously weren't expecting it. Now I don't know if Cole is into anything- is there any way you can arrange to have him come to the department for questioning?"
She shrugged. "I have a friend with the police, though I can't exactly say Cole's too fond of him."
"Has he been wanted for something prior to this?"
"Oh. No. Nothing like that. It's just that they kind of go way back...and don't care too much for each other because of these...past endeavors. It's a long story. But his name is Darryl Morris."
"Darryl Morris," she mused carefully.
"Are you sure that isn't-"
"Phoebe, if it's one thing we don't play, it's games. Cole is probably-"
"Wondering what the hell is going on, for starters," a deep voice spoke up, offering a short dose of sarcasm right on the spot. Phoebe looked up, her face suddenly brightening with rapid strength, as she glimpsed the owner of it, her eyes growing wide with relief, as she continued to eagerly watch him, fully anticipating his welcome. He was slightly scruffy, just as John had come across to her in his appearance, his blue eyes tracing the concern etched upon her pretty face, his hair having been cut just a bit, the sleeves of his black sweatshirt failing miserably, as he absentmindedly brushed a strong hand against the fabric of his jeans. "Paige called me over. Said it was urgent. I had a great lead near the mausoleum, and you guys got up and just deserted me."
But she immediately threw her arms around him, tossing them forcefully around his neck as she clung to him, her fingers pressed tightly into his clothing, as her breath echoed through his hair ever so faintly. He accepted her wholeheartedly, his expression dropping as he caught onto her worrying, her body trembling with a nervous bout of fear. "You're here," she whispered.
"Yeah, I'd like to think so," he muttered, as he raised an eyebrow rather briefly. "You act like you haven't seen me in months."
"You're not hurt."
"No....well...now that you mention it, I was a little earlier when you cut our evening short, but I digress."
"Cole-"
"So what's going on?" he repeated.
"What do you mean?"
"Phoebe, you called me to the hospital in the-"
"I know and I can explain."
"It would be nice," he mustered, his gaze catching Rachel's for the first time.
The profiler drew him in rather coolly, her eyes narrowing a bit in response to his sudden entrance, her lips slowly parting, as she took a few small steps forward. Her frame of vision travelled from head to foot, as she offered a hand to him, her visage immediately faltering into a abrupt smile. "Rachel Burke, I work for the VCTF in Atlanta, along with Bailey Malone-"
"VCTF?" he questioned, lightly grasping her hand, as he hesitantly shook it.
"Violent Crimes Task Force?"
"Cole Turner."
"Yeah, I know. Your girlfriend was pretty distraught over your whereabouts tonight. Seems we've got a little problem on our hands. Well, not so little, depending upon how you look at it..."
"Problem? With me?" he returned, his eyes landing on Phoebe's.
"That depends," Rachel offered. "Fail to pay off any debts owed lately?"
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"This man was found badly beaten in the same allyway your girlfriend claims you frequented around the time Agent Grant was attacked."
"Agent Grant? I'm afraid I don't- what is this about?"
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take you down to the station to ask you a few things. Just so we can-"
"But I've never-"
"We're only taking precuations," she assured him.
"One, it would be nice if I actually knew what the hell I'm being charged with, and two- I don't exactly think you're in any position to judge me, Miss Burke."
"Mr. Turner, are you going to cooperate or not?"
"I don't even know what this is-"
"The man in the bed," she confirmed, "is Agent John Grant. Someone wanted him dead, but luckily he managed to make it here before he lost consciousness near the entryway. He hasn't said a word since he's been over there, and if you happen to know something, we'd appreciate all the help we can get."
"He's...I...he's-"
"You," Phoebe finished softly, smiling up at him. "Or, so I thought. But now you're here, and he's still here...there really are two of you."
"Did I miss something?"
"Mr. Turner, I know this is a bit of a shock. But I can have Mr. Malone escort you down to the station, and we can-"
"And I have nothing to say," he stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest rather adamently, as he continued to stand his ground. "I don't know who that is, and I certainly don't have any kind of business association or meeting place with an allyway in San Francisco. A couple guys from work have been following me lately, but there's nothing else to it. Story closed."
"I'm not asking for much," she told him quietly. "All I care about right now is finding the son of a bitch who did this, so I can lock him away and throw away the key. That key right now is you."
"This is all really fascinating, Miss Burke, but you might want to tell it to someone who actually gives a damn. Alright?"
"I don't understand. Your...unwillingness to comply is obviously unexpected, but I-"
"Cole, she just wants to ask you about the location John's body was found. They're trying to bring a potential killer to justice," Phoebe concluded, placing a light grip upon his sweatshirt, as she gave him a reassuring pat.
"I have nothing to tell the police. I don't make their salary and I don't exactly plan on having a heart to heart with them anytime soon," he murmured. "So in all honesty, I'm not interested. I don't know anything of your location, and that's as much of a truth as you'll ever get out of me."
"It isn't a choice," she stated calmly, looking fretfully towards Phoebe, as she randomly drew a pair of handcuffs from the back pocket of her jeans. Holding them in front of him, she sighed, tilting her head back to gain a much more precise view of his gorgeous profile.
"Wait. What are you doing with those?" Phoebe asked her, her eyes growing bigger, as she set her sights on the item within Rachel's grasp, her hand tightening around the fabric of Cole's shirt once more, her body becoming tense.
"Okay. If you're going to arrest me, because you think I ordered an attack on a guy who looks like me, I think you're way out of your league. I'm a lawyer, Miss Burke. I know how the system works."
"Then you also know that under the system, I'm obligated to place these on you with the right to remain silent."
"I'm representing myself," he whispered, his eyes going straight through hers, wincing rather briefly, as she began to take two steps toward him.
"And so be it-"
"But you can't- you can't just...he doesn't have anything to do with this," Phoebe whispered.
"And the process is purely painless, I promise."
"Oh, I sense a lot of forthcoming pain," Cole offered, as he felt his wrists being shoved into the unyielding metal cuffs, his blues shut against the light surrounding the room, his guard having let itself down completely, as he felt her skin brush against his own, securing the locks. He struggled for a moment, resisting her grip, as it fastened its hold upon him, leading him out into the hallway.
"Dammit," Phoebe hissed.
"Are you okay?" a familiar tone inquired, as she felt a slender hand touch her shoulder, Piper Halliwell coming up behind her. "We went to see if we could find Cole, and low and behold he was still there...right where Paige claims you guys left him. Paige went to find a parking spot. I guess I wouldn't be lying if I said I just don't understand."
"Me and my big mouth," Phoebe whispered. "We have to get him out of this."
"Get who out of what? What....wait...why- why are they leading Cole away in handcuffs? What did you do? What did he do?"
"The FBI wants to question him, and he wouldn't go. I-"
"What? Why?"
"Piper-"
"But he was on the news. We saw his picture. He's supposed to be here in critical condition...unconscious and out like a log. We saw him. You saw him. But yet we found him- how is that possible?"
"I know, and I get that. But I think it's a lot more complicated."
"Complicated?"
"I need more background on this Robertson guy. See what you can find out, alright?"
"Wait. Where are you going?"
"With Cole. To make sure things don't get out of hand. I'll check back in with you in a little while."
"You do realize this is the FBI we're dealing with now?" Piper countered, raising her eyebrows at her sister in complete seriousness. "As in, not the sligtest bit demonic?"
"Someone was expecting Cole to be there- someone wanted to hurt him. And if I can find-"
"Look, go, okay? I'll figure something out."
"You sure?"
"Go," she insisted. "Before he makes a fool out of himself and lands us all in jail."
Bailey Malone looked on in complete bewilderment, as he watched the two women intensely conversed with one another, his eyes squinting as he struggled to make out bits and pieces of their dialogue. Not long after Rachel had approached the first woman, she'd had to takes drastic measures with the man in her custody. Frowning, his eyes settled once again upon the young profiler, and this strange man she had secured in her grasp, his hands fastened uncomfortably behind his back. Clearing his throat, his vision travelled to the fallen John, whose fingers twitched unconsciously upon the bed, his lids rapidly beginning to flutter again.