Precious Illusions
part 1
"Mmm, go a little bit to the left."
"Okay," the voice responded, as he carefully shifted the weight of his body in the direction she'd specified, "is that good?"
"Little bit more."
"Prue, if I move over any further, I won't be on top anymore."
"Little bit more to the left," Prue Halliwell instructed, her voice growing the slightest bit urgent.
"Just hard to get in there," Andy Trudeau proclaimed, quietly whistling to himself, his right hand gently gripping the tool tightly around his fingers.
"This isn't your first time, is it?"
"It is by way of force," he quipped, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, well I can't exactly use magic, Andy, because that would be personal gain."
"Wow," a voice quickly commented, "if I didn't know better, I would've thought someone was using the kitchen to their advantage." Phoebe Halliwell carefully peeked around the corner, her hands clasped behind her back, as she eagerly stepped inside, her feet clothed in crisp white socks.
"Leo's helping a charge, so Andy's fixing the sink," her sister volunteered, gesturing briefly towards the puddles of water strewn about the floor, a small blue bucket lying victim at the tired inspector's feet. "He always used to say he wanted the life with the white picket fence, and now I think he's actually got it."
"That's because Andy didn't know he'd be taking care of Leo's chores," Andy retorted.
"Leo doesn't even live here," Phoebe pointed out, seemingly perplexed.
"But the sink is busted and we're seriously in need of a temporary handyman," Prue weakly insisted.
"And that would just happen to be me," Andy filled in for her, finally gathering himself in an upright position, as he reached for the rag beside him, calmly mopping his forehead. "I only just get out of work, and already I'm elected to be the next Mr. Clean."
"Oh yeah, the dead guy," Phoebe added, crossing her arms over her chest. "I heard about that. Guess you just can't be too careful anymore."
"Morris seems to think it was random. Just some kids getting their kicks for the night with banging on doors and clubbing the first guy who's dumb or tired enough to answer. Except," he noted, obviously amused, "it doesn't exactly fit the profile, considering the door was locked from the inside."
"That's what they said on the news," she agreed, nodding. "They could've easily gotten in through a window though. I mean kids are going to try anything these days, right?"
"Maybe I've just been living here too long, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was the ghost of his dead mother," Andy offered, shrugging. "Of course, Morris thinks that would go over real well with the-"
"Still, it doesn't warrant our help in any way, so the best thing for now would be to lay low," Prue advised. "No reason to get involved."
"It really isn't up to me," Andy told her, smiling. "So...unfortunately I'll be digging deep through the trenches for a motive in the meantime."
"Maybe he did it to himself," Phoebe suggested. "It's not totally beneath people to push the envelope to get a little extra cash in their pocket."
"Trust me, I've covered just about every angle I can think of," he assured her. "We've just gotta spin the wheel and pick one. Of course, it doesn't help matters that Internal Affairs has picked up their little investigation...questioning my sudden disappearance and acceptance back on the job. It's all about me again. Me and the freaky cases. All things considered, I think being dead pretty much qualifies as a legitimate reason to have been taken out of the running."
"But Rodriguez is-"
"Oh, the new guy doesn't have to be demonic to be a jerk," he countered, raising an eyebrow. "It's just in his nature."
"You know, it was actually going really great for awhile," Prue added, softly biting her lower lip. "Guess this means they're going to be watching us, too."
"Tell her what she's won, Bob," he confirmed quietly, shooting her a quick wink. "But they're not going to find anything, Prue. Especially not with the way we went about it. There's just nothing there to find. Though I...somehow think you already factored that in when you helped me, didn't you?"
"Maybe Cole could do something," she tried. "Being a lawyer and all, it might have just the pull we need to get them off your case."
He paused a moment, his fingers lightly grazing the rag, as he tossed it aside again, firmly shaking his head. "I'm not asking you to make it all right," he added. "You've got better things to worry about. Things that carry a hell of a lot more weight than what I do at my desk."
"Would it have some weight, if I said I'm not taking no for an answer?"
"The wedding's not off," he reminded her teasingly, as he got to his feet. "I don't have any regrets. No matter which way we play this, we're always going to have somebody out there who's targeting us."
"Oh, you mean like old Mrs. Hillard down the street?" Phoebe piped up. "Every time she sees me get the morning paper off the lawn, she gives me this evil eye. She stares at me like I've got two heads, when she's the one going out of her house in her rollers and face goop. How's that for ironic?"
"Yes, and that's all really fascinating, but we're not talking about it right now, Pheebs."
"Oh, c'mon, Prue, the woman is creepy. She's so little and so bony and she's ju-"
"Not doing anything to bother us, and we should keep it that way."
"But she always has these different kind of eyes when she sees Cole come out of the house without his shirt on. I know she's old enough to be our grams, and it still makes me a little jealous."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Prue whispered, turning back to look at her sister.
"Wind's picking up out there," Andy offered, deliberately changing the subject as he shot his fiancé a small wink. "Might even get that rain they promised too."
"Yeah, just our luck, right?" she added, shrugging.
"Anything else in San Francisco would just be unacceptable," he offered, chuckling softly. He gently placed a hand on one of the silver faucet knobs, hesitantly pulling back on the hot water, and pleasantly breathing a sigh of great relief when it began to trickle quietly into the sink. He watched it, as it carefully traveled down into the waiting drain that eagerly consumed it with open arms, racing into the small holes at an alarming speed. "Success at last."
"True, but I'm betting the storm probably won't last more than a few hours."
"And Cole should be back by now," Phoebe murmured, glancing briefly at the black cloth watch that covered her slender wrist, her brown eyes following the miniscule hand, as it slowly wound its way around the small circle.
"Maybe Piper needed more help," her sister volunteered. "I wouldn't give it much thought. In case you haven't noticed, your man is perfectly capable of taking care of himself these days."
"Nevermind the fact that he just left Paige out in the dark of night, all by her lonesome, victim to all predators looking for some tasty prey," a greatly irritated tone mumbled, as a flash of blue appeared near the foyer. A purse slid miserably across the wooden floorboards, its owner professing a deep and troubled sigh, her fingers pushing helplessly at her windblown mane of dark hair. "A person can become awfully superstitious out there, let me tell you, not to mention scared out of her mind- even by my standards."
"Oh my God, sweetie, what happened?" Phoebe asked, abruptly rushing out after Paige, as she nearly took a dangerous tumble right beside her, getting a good, firm hold on the banister to the stairwell to quickly steady herself.
"Where should I start?"
"Where's Cole?"
"That, I don't know. But maybe you could ask me in twenty minutes when I've finally calmed down."
"I thought you wer-"
"I wanted to look into something after I left the club, and Piper told him to follow me. When we got to said location, he completely freaked out and shimmered off to who knows where. He just vanished. Something spooked him, and he didn't want any part of it."
"What location did you take him to?" her sister demanded, immediately tensing, as she felt a brush of anger taint her, hands on her hips.
"Oh, so this is automatically my fault?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what exactly are you implying?"
"Where were you?" Prue spoke up, as she and Andy came up behind Phoebe, her hands quietly placing themselves on her sister's shoulders out of comfort, her mouth set in a tight, concerned line.
"Does it even matter anymore?" she replied, her voice just above a whisper. "The point is, I never even wanted him to come with me. But low and behold, Piper just had to insist on it, and there he was. We were supposed to go inside. You know, just...just look around for a little bit, then split."
"Where?" she asked again.
"The house that belonged to that guy that died," she finally confessed. "The one I heard about on the news while I was at P3. It said he was bea-"
"Beaten to death," Andy completed her sentence, nodding. "Yeah, we were just- Derek Wilkinson, right?"
"Yep," she sided, inclining her head towards him.
"Morris and I were just over there." He raised an eyebrow then, taking a step closer. "Has the scene been tampered with?"
"No. No, it's probably still how you guys left it."
"Then I don't understand," Phoebe countered, looking at her with a rather puzzled expression, her lips slightly pursed. "You went to check out the crime scene of a guy you didn't even know, because you were curious?"
"He worked with Cole," she filled in. "I...I mean, Cole didn't actually know him or anything, but after what I saw back there, I got the distinct impression that he definitely knew something else."
"But he never-"
"Well, no," she cut in, "because he only just heard about it. I told him I saw the broadcast with Derek at P3. He didn't come back here?"
"No one's been here," Andy told her.
"You know, I have no clue why I even care. I mean it's not like I forced him to go or anything. Yet there he is, acting all weird about it, and I still don't know what on earth is going on. If you ask me, he's probably lost it again."
"Can you watch the kids?" Phoebe asked them.
"They're asleep," Prue informed her.
"I know, but watch them."
"You can't just go out there," Andy stopped her, his fingers gingerly closing around her arm, his blue eyes quietly focusing on her face. "Besides the fact that it's not safe, you'll be caught in the downpour."
"You? Telling me it's not safe?"
"Phoebe-"
"Yeah, and the weatherman isn't even always right," she presumed, shrugging. "Look, Andy, I need to find him. I don't care if you wanna tag along or not, but I'm his wife and I'm going to find him."
"Did you also forget that you're carrying his child?"
"I'm barely a month along," she confessed, frowning. "And come to think of it, why was it always so much easier when you didn't know?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Our secret," she snapped. "Being witches? Maybe you would have still been alive, if that were the case."
He just looked at her, as he slowly pulled his hand back, his complexion revealing an instant loss of warmth, the dirty rag grasped tightly in his left fist. "Sometimes second chances are enough."
"That was a hell of a thing to say, Phoebe," Prue added, her eyes narrowing in both disgust and disapproval in her younger sister's direction.
"Mood swings," Paige threw in.
"Hey, I'm sorry, but I don't need you guys, okay? I'm fine," Phoebe insisted.
"And she also tends to get surprisingly hostile where Cole's concerned."
"Listen, I'll get my weapon, and we can take a drive down to where they were," Andy volunteered. "I already know the place really well. It's not a problem, trust me."
"I said I wouldn't mind the company," she reiterated, her voice finally softening.
"Then it's settled," he responded, yanking the t-shirt up and over his head, barely noticing the female eyes that turned suggestively in his direction, as he made a grab for the sweater hanging near the overlapping coats on the rack to his right. He quickly strode to the other side of the room, opening the top drawer of a rather small cabinet, neatly drawing out his automatic, as he shifted it to the back of his tall frame, pulling the thick material of the sweater clear over his jeans.
"Yeah, see, we're really going to have to talk about this," Prue advised him, inclining her head toward the action, as she offered a brief nod.
"About what?" he returned, palms gesturing outward.
"My nieces and nephew live here, too, Andy."
"Yeah, and I'm a cop, Prue."
"I'm a witch, but that's not the point."
"Can we talk about this when I get back?"
"Oh, you bet your as-"
"Assets," Phoebe abruptly interrupted, as she began shoving him to the door. "All you two ever did was fight, so I have absolutely no idea why you're giving this a shot now."
"Just be careful," Prue advised. "I don't only mean with the weather."
"He must be shielding himself pretty well," Paige murmured.
"We'll be back as soon as we can," Andy assured her, giving her arm a quick squeeze, while he began to throw on a thin navy windbreaker.
Cole watched them quietly and completely expressionless through the compelling vividness being shown to him by means of a rather cloudy haze, immediately noting the persistence that plagued his wife's face. The worry had crowded and overwhelmed her big brown eyes, as she followed Andy out the door, forgetting to cover her small frame with a jacket in order to protect herself from the instant blast of cold that now greeted them. He leaned back in the chair, propping his feet upon the desk in his office, glancing around at the darkness that filled each and every crevice, never failing to suppress his current mood. His blues finally landed on the man that had bestowed the present turn of events upon him through the use of clever and deliberate magic, as he calmly tilted his head, his long fingers clasping themselves as an afterthought, settling fondly in his lap. He laughed rather softly, lightly clearing his throat. "There's never a way out, is there?"
"A way out of what?" came the brief response.
"Madness," he tried, shrugging. "Redemption...existence."
"Redemption can be had, but memories can simply not be erased."
"Leo can erase things," he objected. "He can make people forget something ever happened. And for the most part, those people are better off."
"This is different," Byron argued. "What you're experiencing is something you've repressed and denied before you were reformed."
"Yeah, and I thought the alternate plane was bad. But losing Phoebe's love, for however long that lasted...was punishment enough. I shouldn't have to see this. Not now, Byron. Not here. Not when I've already established a life, and-"
"The danger comes only when you let it," the angel confirmed, spreading his hands in a slight gesture. "Perhaps this is merely a test."
"I don't need another Goddamn test to show me what I've become."
"Maybe someone else thinks you do."
"Was that man a part of it?"
"Cole-"
"Was he?" he repeated, a great deal more sternly, his voice on the verge of cracking.
"That innocent died so something else could be seen. Whatever human being committed such an act of violence, it was to show that everything still happens for a reason. It's a cycle of life- the way of life. We cannot hope to function otherwise. I know you've learned that by now, and it's something you'd be wise to keep in mind."
"So you're trying to tell me that death, of all things, just gave me a sign? A sign that someone had to die for...in order for me to see?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"That's a bunch of bull," he muttered, his mouth lapsing into a frown.
"Why do you say that? After all you've come to know, why do you ke-"
"I guess I'm apparently just incapable of expecting good news."
"There's a reason certain people find their way into our lives again," Byron explained, as he took a few steps towards him. "Why do you think Phoebe found her way back into yours?"
"We're not talking about Phoebe," he whispered. "We're talking about a mistake. One I didn't exactly have a choice in when I made it."
"So by sitting here in the dark, you're just going to make all of it go away?"
"That's the plan," he mused nonchalantly.
"She can't hurt you, you know."
"Not physically."
"I understand how you feel compromised with being put in this position, but I can't guaran-"
"If Phoebe found out what I did, what I was told to do...you know, Byron, that'd just be the final nail in the damn coffin for me. There's no coming back from it."
"You think she wouldn't love you anymore?" he urged. "She's seen your deepest, darkest moments, and she's even given into evil to be with you. She's had to right her own wrongs, just like you have. You've seen each other at your worst."
"The Source wasn't me," he snapped. "I was trapped, and that son of a bitch led her into that trap without my consent. It's not the same. I could never resort to the emptiness inside him...what he felt- I could never do that. I didn't. I'm not capable of it."
"Yes, but you still blame yourself for what you subjected her to, don't you?"
"I thought you were supposed to guide."
"It's true," he added, nodding, as he crossed his arms over his chest, professing a short sigh.
"So guide."
"I'm afraid it's not that easy. If you're sure you saw what you did, it must mean that contact with the past is warranted with the victim of which you speak."
He raised an eyebrow, a hand falling over his unshaven chin. "She's summoning me?"
"You must have somehow awakened a bracket of forgotten time. One that's been dormant for well over forty years, if what you say is correct."
"But how can it just-"
"Awaken?"
"Yes."
"It could very well be a consequence of the alternate dimension you were in."
"But that doesn't make sense," he protested, "because it would mean you did it to me when you reversed Phoebe's death."
"I haven't done anything intentionally," Byron replied, rocking back upon the balls of his feet, his green eyes curiously studying the man before him. "But maybe it's something that needs to be addressed, as it certainly concerns someone of a greater value than the others who have perished at your hand."
"Others?"
"We're still talking about your previous victims, are we not?"
"And when someone higher on the food chain tells you to do something, you usually do it," he uttered, not quite believing he was still taking the same stance on the topic. "No matter what it requires, no matter the sacrifice."
"You've faced this once already," he reminded him, "when you learned your athame had destroyed the life of the man Emma loved."
"But I didn't have to face him."
"You're stronger now," Byron insisted. "Maybe this one means something."
"You keep saying that, but I'm still not following."
"The Source gave you instructions- orders. He wanted you to do something you had no problem doing when Belthazor had completely consumed your human half."
"And even if I-"
"But you do. You always have. It's always been there...in your subconscious. You just have to know where to look."
"It means I'll have to go back," he whispered, his eyes directing themselves to the wall on his right, his expression wincing ever so slightly.
"No one is denying you that privilege."
"How can it be a privilege, when I can still feel her suffering?"
"If you can feel it, you have nothing to fear," Byron concluded. "Even if you can't remember her name, you've still allowed yourself the possibility to make greater amends with your past."
"I thought I already had."
"It takes time, Cole. More time than you know."
"But I can't change it. I can't honestly- even if I tried for a different outcome...going back, seeing her again...there's a small part of history that would cease to exist, because I interfered with what was meant to be." He nearly smiled, a single tear absentmindedly rolling down his cheek without him fully realizing it. "Isn't that how it works?"
"Sometimes."
"I don't know what that means."
"Sometimes things that happen aren't supposed to come to pass. I would think Prue and Inspector Trudeau are living proof of that."
"Maybe."
"What's your heart telling you?"
"I'd like to think it's saying we all get another try," he stated softly. "And by being able to try again, we can make people see that we're good. We can make them see that we really deserve to be where we are right now. That...some people can see things they didn't really see before, because their vision was so tainted by evil, and their soul was so desperately tied to that evil."
"But not anymore."
"No, not anymore."
"Then I think you know what it is you have to do," Byron finished.
Cole chuckled softly to himself, as he leaned his head back, placing his hands as a shield to cradle it, his lids shutting themselves to the blackness that continued to touch him, listening to the silence penetrate the room when the angel had vanished. "Laurel," he breathed, his voice only inches above a whisper, its tone shaky and still very much unsure.