Precious Illusions

part 13

"Does your head hurt?"

"No. Why?"

"Because I should smack it right now out of stupidity," Paige Matthews retorted sarcastically, as she gently applied the remainder of the thick, white gauze around the wounds that had previously formed upon the palm of his hand. She watched him wince slightly from the pain, her mouth on the verge of a quick grin, topping off the material with a piece of tape from the roll Phoebe had located in the medicine cabinet upstairs.

"Thank you," Cole Turner said quietly, silently lifting it to inspect her work, genuinely grateful for the assistance.

His expression professed such honesty, that she almost felt bad for finding traces of amusement in the situation, hailing it as some kind of mockery in regards to the events that had transpired only minutes before. "No problem," she uttered, just barely managing the words, her face turning a brief shade of crimson. "Besides, you'll probably be as good as new in no time."

"Look, if you've got something you want to say, say it."

"I don't- I mean, I'm not...I just don't think you should be touching her again until we know what she really is."

"What she is, is still a very scared woman who wants to know the means behind why she's here. I doubt she knew that was going to happen to me."

"Yes, and I make my living as a great big clown in the circus, selling hot dogs to the kiddies."

"Paige." He appeared to reason with that picture of her in his head a moment, thinking better of it. "You know what? I think I'd actually pay big money to see that."

She just stared at him. "See what?"

He smirked very briefly. "You, a clown, handing out food to the little ones, while they're...begging and kicking and screaming, whining to mommy and daddy. It's kind of amusing, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think, and I was being-"

"Yeah, I got it. I just thought it was fun to imagine the possibilities."

She loudly cleared her throat, itching to get back on track. "So you were trying to comfort her, and got some kind of zombie flash from the dead or something."

"Yes."

"Well, it sucks to be you, I'll give you that." She shrugged. "But on the bright side, maybe it means we can be rid of her a whole lot sooner than expected. Big, gigantic plus for us."

"I think I felt what she felt when she was resurrected from that coffin," he confessed, meeting her eyes. "I also think it explains her memory loss when we found her- and why she chose to come here."

Paige just shook her head, as she casually lifted herself up from the chair seated at the table in the comfortable kitchen, tossing the roll of tape upon the counter, her line of vision quietly projecting itself through the window perched above the sink. "Still drawing a blank here."

"She must have seen me through a vision of her own," he replied simply. "And bam, there's where the connection began, right?"

"Oh, sure, because she desperately wanted to remember the man that killed her, so she could just go and run straight into his arms again." She turned back to glance at him, her face maintaining an expression of seriousness. "Do I need to remind you that she was also in the nude when said event took place?"

"That's not what I'm implying."

"So she saw you," she countered, extending her hands in a gesture of impatience, "it doesn't prove anything. You and her go way back, and-"

"And," he added, completely ignoring her, as he pushed himself up from the table, careful not to lay pressure on his bad hand, "there were claw marks on that coffin. These scratches might be a part of that vision. They might be those claw marks. Some kind of...transference of sorts."

"You mean like your own personal freak show come to life in 3D and lots of vivid colors?"

"Listen, can you get Merrick over here?"

"Merrick..."

"Nick," he repeated. "Nick Merrick. The boyfriend I can't stand, who usually just comes on in whenever he feels like it and always wants to wear my clothes? Remember him?"

"Oh, that Merrick," she acknowledged.

"That Merrick." He paused ever so slightly. "Is there...another one I don't know about?"

"This is demon territory, Cole."

"Wow, and thank you for clarifying that for me," he confirmed, his tone coated with sarcasm. "I'm assuming you'll be reaching some kind of a point fairly soon?"

"I just hate calling him every time we get ourselves into some kind of jam like this. I wanted to separate our relationship from all the chaos and...and mayhem, you know? He doesn't deserve that."

"Chaos and mayhem are basically the same thing, Paige."

"Excuse me?"

"How can you separate them? They go together like peanut butter and jelly."

"Seriously?" she inquired.

"I think the real question is, how hard did someone hit your head?" he asked her, shooting her a quick wink.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. You know what, Cole? This might just have more to do with you than you keep trying to make yourself believe."

"Ah, see, now that's where we kindly part ways. You and Arvo can just go on thinking whatever you want. Because as far as I'm concerned," he added, holding up his hand, "this was nothing more than a clue. It's only a clue that fits into the grand scheme of things. It's not some prophecy that reads into my own death."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"And why are you so worried, anyway?"

"I...I'm not, you know. I'm really not. It's just- look, we're all going to have to be real careful with this. It's not like that crazy woman, or the ship and the amnesia, or the other crazy woman who wanted to bring her dead lover back to life."

He raised an eyebrow. "The ship and the amnesia?"

She began to gesture a bit nervously with her hands, doing her best to act out the emotions as she spoke. "You know, the stuff with the dead girl, and the sea monster? The fake cruise?"

"Um...no one had amnesia on that ship, Paige, unless it was you."

"Duh," she told him, exasperated. "I meant the alternate reality. The one where Phoebe didn't know you and you still managed to add an extra little one to the family? I'm sure it rings a bell."

"So we're talking about two events here?"

"What did you think I was talking about?"

"Some punctuation and elaboration would have sure been nice."

"Yeah, and maybe I should hurt your other hand."

"See, that's what I still like about you- you're both direct and yet insulting at the same time. Must be quite a gift."

"Didn't I say I wasn't worried?"

He walked closer to her, keeping his tone rather low as he spoke, offering a single glance back to the living room, where voices could still be heard, loud and clear. "Yes, but I have a feeling you know something you're not saying."

"You weren't exactly willing to divulge information on Miss Pea Soup in there either, were you?" she hissed back.

He almost laughed. "She's hardly what I'd call Exorcist material."

"Oh yeah? Well then far be it for me to admit to knowing anything I'm not saying, because I probably don't know it, anyway."

He stood there for a minute, entirely silent, his own thought process struggling to make sense of and comprehend hers. "I'm sorry?"

"Forget it. Look, just take your sore little hand and your broken pride and get out of here. You'll want to let them know what's going on, and we shouldn't be holding this back. If it's as important as you're claiming, it's worth spending a moment or two on."

"So what aren't you telling me?"

"Cole-"

"What's going on?"

She took a deep breath, her hands clenching into fist at her sides, her lips slightly parted. "You know how Laurel is back, and she's a big part of your past?"

He nodded, not saying anything, his eyes meeting hers with just the faintest bit of uncertainty.

"I think the past is the key. I mean, look at what happened with the Book of Shadows."

"I'm not following."

"I was trying to figure it out when Piper mentioned it, wondering the why of it- and it all comes back to the past. And that's just what you do, isn't it? You come back to it. Sometimes you don't want to, but eventually...you do. It's like a ghost that won't let you go."

"I know the answer's in here somewhere," he deadpanned.

"I'm getting there, okay?"

"Sooner is better, Paige."

"And patience is a virtue, but who's keeping track?"

"The past..."

"Remember when I went back with Leo, and you and Phoebe were possessed by the two nutty ghosts? And then you got shot, and everybody starting freaking out? I mean, except me, of course, because I was too busy joyfully pondering the possibilities in my head."

"Frankie and Lulu," he surmised, throwing her a single glare. "And that's important...why? I mean, it was a long time ag-"

"What if we only think we're being manipulated, because we couldn't atone for the past, and can't admit we're still buried in it. What if there's some Ghost of Christmas Past demanding that we see ourselves for all the imperfections?"

He only raised a brow, his uninjured hand trailing slowly and yet meaningfully along his unshaven jawline. "Paige, I'm going to have to break this to you the hard way, but...it's not Christmas, there is no Santa Claus, and we already celebrated last year."

"But what about the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" she tried, refusing to pay mind to his usual bout of sarcasm towards her. "I remember reading something about that, too."

"You're stretching."

"I'm leaping," she argued irritably. "The past is the one solid thing about all of this. We have revenge, mythology, necromancy, a demon here, a demon there, Alex's new...ability- that idiot still sitting in our living room...it's one big illusion, isn't it?"

"Hardly, but thanks for playing. I'm going to send you home with a year's supply of filtered water and ten bags of dog food." He gently gave her a small pat on the back, as he proceeded to exit the kitchen, eyes rolling out of her sight. "Please don't take offense, and feel free to try again next year."

"Cole, I'm not joking. I saw something earlier, and I- dammit, I could have sworn it was real."

"You saw something." It was more of a statement on his part, failing to accompany itself with a question or complete and utter disbelief, his patience diminishing by the minute. "Wow, that's...that's actually really nice, Paige. You know, come to think of it, I saw something, too. I saw some good, sturdy duct tape on top of the fridge this morning, and some rope down in the basement."

"No, I mean, it wasn't like when I misbehaved in high school, or when I was caught smoking in my room, and tried to disregard every good thing my adopted parents tried to say to me. This was about someone I was helping before I quit my job at South Bay Social Services. A young father. I was...I'd been trying to get him custody of his children, a boy and a girl. Cody and Sarah." She took a breath, her face reflecting the emotion as she recalled the memory, her eyes searching vividly beyond him, as if trained and focused on something that were far from his visible line of capability. "The wife was a complete bitch- a real menace to society. She didn't deserve to be in their lives. She drank, she cursed, and she'd probably fallen down stairs, tripped over her own feet, and smacked into walls more times than I could count- let alone keep up with. She was one bruised-up mess. He'd been on a rough path, too, but he'd cleaned himself up some, and had decided on settling down and becoming a real family man. He loved those kids. It just took him until he nearly hit rock bottom to find out how much. The point was, she wasn't willing to change, and he was doing everything humanly possible to show that he had. I believed him, in him. He'd become this completely different person, and I was happy for him."

"But it didn't go quite as planned."

She shrugged. "I met the case with some success, but I guess it was always meant to be short-lived. She broke into the house a few nights later, in a fit of drunken rage, and set it ablaze while they were sleeping. By the time the firemen got there to put out the fire, the house was too far gone, and there were no survivors. She'd killed herself in the process." She met his intent stare now, as much as she possibly good, her eyes clouding up ever so slightly. "At first, I blamed myself, you know? Just like I'd blamed myself for my parents' deaths."

"It haunted you."

"Doesn't it always? I can act real brave when it's somebody else who's feeling the loss. I can...pretend like I never had to go through what I did, no matter how much it got to me inside."

"Paige-"

"But I think I saw him," she told him, sharply cutting him off. "He looked real, Cole. There were no burns, no scars. It was Jack Fielding standing there in front of me. Before the fire, before he'd had to die by her hand- it was him. Down to every last detail."

"You mean, like Laurel?"

"I think she brought some with her."

"Some what? Spirits? Paige, I touched her, I know she's not a figment of our imaginations."

"Exactly. But I'm leaning more toward the fact that mine was. That whatever pulled her out pulled other things with it. And since all of us are either related now, or tied together by some means..."

"You haven't spoken about this with your sisters...Nick?"

"Heh, yeah. Right," she said quietly. "Like that would really make any difference when your problem is so much bigger."

"And all the while you've been trying to tell me I'm the crazy one."

"Oh, you were always crazy," she concluded, "I just thought this pretty much confirmed it."

"Is everything okay?" Phoebe Halliwell interceded as she entered the kitchen, her brown eyes regarding each of them in turn, her arms placing themselves firmly across her chest.

"Fine," Cole quickly added, as his blues caught faint sight of the glare Paige shot his way. "I was just telling Paige that we should probably call Merrick."

She nodded. "Yeah, actually, that's not a bad idea. He might be able to put his head together with Arvo in there...come up with something." She reached out then, gingerly drawing his hand to her, her fingers tracing themselves over the gauze, a frown creasing her pretty face. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. Never better," he answered, shooting one more glance in Paige's direction.

She averted it, easily maneuvering herself out of the room. Her slender frame immediately headed for the stairwell without question, vanishing rather quickly, as she proceeded to take the steps two at a time. He offered a sigh he'd been holding in, quietly pursing his lips.

"Cole?"

He didn't respond to her at first, his good hand taking one of hers and gently tugging her toward the basement door. "Walk for me awhile, would you?"

"You want to fool around?" she guessed, her voice playfully low, as the corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile.

He merely opened the door in front of him, urging her to walk down the stairs, as he followed her, carefully and quietly shutting it behind them. He let out a breath he'd been holding, reaching out his good hand to turn on the single light bulb above him, bathing the room in a soft glow. "Whatever this is, it seems to be affecting more than just me and our little girl."

She shrugged, her expression falling into one of troubled confusion. "Well, I just put the twins down for another nap, and so far nothing seems to be wr-"

"I'm talking about Paige, Phoebe."

"Paige? What's Paige got to do with this?"

"All this time I thought I was only one searching for some sane answers here, and she comes out and tells me she thinks she's just seen a ghost."

"A ghost," Phoebe murmured, shrugging. "Well, that's impossible, isn't it? I mean, there's been nothing to suggest that Lau-"

"Exactly," he interrupted, shrugging. "I just finished telling her that. But she said this man was from a case she was working on as a social worker."

"Orders," she whispered.

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"It was part of her job," she explained, "just as being told to kill Laurel was yours. Good and evil, it's all the same here. These are victims, Cole. Innocents."

"Yes, I already got that part."

"Do you think we're meant to save them?"

"I think something is changing. Something that may have opened a portal somewhere, letting everything out of it. Souls that were damned because they couldn't help the way they died. We've surfaced with a lot of options, because there are a lot of options. They all died in different ways, but the motives were probably all the same."

"Do you think going back to the cemetery might help?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely hopeful there."

"Oh."

"But you and your sisters, you've dealt with the Demon of Illusion, haven't you?"

"Yeah, we, uh...we vanquished him by burning the film from the movie," she volunteered. "We tried a spell at first, but it didn't really work. He thrived on violence. It was obviously his soul purpose for existing."

"I'm familiar with the story," he assured her. "But for what it's worth? Violence in general, violent deaths- there's not really much of a distinction there, Phoebe. He wanted to spread it everywhere, and this...this seems to be targeting specific people- those with magical capabilities."

"There may not be a distinction," she agreed, nodding, her eyes tenderly meeting his, "but I'd sure love for all of this go away, so the two of us could sit down and watch Kill It Before It Dies together."

He very nearly smirked in spite of the situation at hand, his blues sparkling for just a moment, as amusement found his handsome profile. "Personally, I'd just settle for dancing to some jazz."

"Well, we'd better do that soon, because about eight months from now I probably won't even be able to see my feet."

"Good point."

She playfully hit him on the shoulder, sticking her tongue out at him. But her demeanor changed just as suddenly as it had come, her lips creasing themselves into a frown. She gripped the railing and urged herself into a sitting position upon the steps, sliding onto the wooden surface. She gently gathered her arms around her legs, her brown eyes dimming, her brow slightly creased. "And sooner or later, you're going to have to tell me what you did to her."

He didn't say anything at first, as her words weighed heavily upon his heart. Too heavily. Defeated, he sat down beside her, his hands falling into his lap. "It still won't change what I did. But as far as revenge is concerned, at least she's gotten a start." He brought up the gauze-covered palm, wiggling his fingers. "And a start is something, isn't it?"

She winced, her voice barely meeting the level of a whisper. "You think you deserved-"

"You don't want to ask me that," he whispered.

"Are you serious?"

Ignoring her, he examined the palm of his hand yet again. "And yet, I'm still completely fascinated at the same time."

"Look, if you don't want them to see the fact that this is still eating away at you, fine. I'm on board with that, Cole. But this is me you're talking to. You can't just say something, think something like that, and expect me to go along with it."

"Phoebe-"

"No, you know, I'm not finished, and I don't think I'll ever be. So she put a couple of boo boo's on your hand, big deal. It's not like she intentionally threw herself out there and tried to kill you. She's not the enemy here, and you're not the enemy now. If Paige had a similar experience, there's a reason for it. Besides, it's not like you even tell me anything anymore, anyway. Oh, sure- you let me come with you here or there, but I think you're still holding back. We could get Leo here and he could heal you, but...no, you're too stubborn to ask for his help, aren't you? You've always been so incredibly stubborn. And it gets to me. Do you know that? It really gets to me, Cole. So don't expect me to not care about you, right out of the blue. It's not going to happen. I still care that this is happening to you, and I'm going to care until it's done."

The corners of his mouth twitched somewhat, his scruffy countenance finally professing a slow, but heartbreaking smile. "Are you done?"

"Would you feel better if I was?"

He only raised a brow. "I'm not sure, actually."

"Talk to me. Tell me more about it."

"I appreciate the answers she's been giving me- even if it means she has to act out and hurt me like this. But I didn't...I don't..." He paused, taking in a breath, then slowly letting it out. "I'm feeling horrible about it, only not the way you mean."

She gestured with a single shoulder. "What other way is there?"

"Byron can show you," he volunteered quietly. "He can see everything."

"Show me what?" she asked.

"A window to the past. I mean, let's face it- I'm not exactly good at the kind of storytelling that doesn't involve a really nice happily ever after all tied up in some cute little bow. At least that's what our little girl tells me. Profusely."

"Either way, I doubt that'll matter, because I'm going to try the spell and add in my own verse to target your point of view."

"I thought we pretty much agreed it's not going to appear in The Book of Shadows anytime soon. Piper said it was gone, Phoebe. You can't just go and-"

"It's all up here," she indicated, pointing to her head. "I've already tried it, and I've seen things. Now I can see you. What you were like, what she was like..."

He very nearly winced at her proposition, his hands settling uncomfortably upon his knees. "I don't think you want to."

"It's not the first time you gave into evil, right? I've seen you at your worst, time and again."

"Right, but that's not what I'm tr-"

"You don't want to tell me, so I'm going to look," she advised him. "It's not the end of the world."

"And what about Paige? I haven't exactly had a past life. I've had a past, but that's about as far as it goes. You'd be better to concentrate on her dilemma right now."

"Cole and Belthazor were two very different parts of you though, right?" She offered him a light laugh, her eyes crinkling, and she reached out and gave him a single pat on the shoulder. "What don't you want me to see, Cole?"

"I'm not...I- if it's the truth you want, I'm afraid I can't give it to you. Not yet."

"So you keep saying, again and again."

"Some things are meant to stay broken."

"Was it you?" she challenged him then.

"Was it me, what?" he returned, obviously confused.

"You know what I'm asking you," she demanded, "don't play dumb."

"And is this really just a petty little trust issue, or something more? Because I'm suddenly getting the impression that you're accusing me of tampering with the progress we've already made. With magic, nonetheless." His blues grew cold, his unshaven face professing an impatient glare. "If you think I'm still capable of toying with the Book, even after it practically zapped me to death when I did have ulterior motives, you'd better go and rethink that theory." He brought himself to his feet, his bottom lip overlapping the top, as he pierced her with his line of vision, offering a single sigh on his part. "I thought I made it clear at one point that I changed my mind about that book when I fell in love with you." He paused a moment. "So, hey, you know, if you still feed the need to look, go ahead. Feel free. I've only ever felt love for you since you worked your way into my life, and if you've started to convince yourself it's been otherwise- if you're doubting it, then I guess I've probably made the biggest mistake of my life, haven't I? Of course, naturally it's not the first time, and probably won't be the last."

She immediately rose, extending an arm toward him, her pretty face feeling the faintest rush of tears threatening to cloud it in a heartbeat. "Cole, wait. No. Look, I didn't mean-"

"Dammit, Phoebe. I'm not asking much. I just-" His grip tightened roughly upon the railing, as he fought to maintain a balance within himself. "You're searching in the wrong place. That much I know. But it's always about Cole, isn't it? Me. Just me. I'm either evil, in danger, or all of the above. Pick one." He rolled his shoulders, urging his good hand toward the floor, as a lightning bolt shot from it, doing his best to clear the rage that so rigidly plagued him, constantly winding through him.

"You probably needed that."

He only smiled. "It would have been better if I'd gotten Arvo as target practice."

Her hand gently closed over a small fraction of his shirt, her brown eyes looking up to meet his blues. Her expression brightened considerably, a grin of her own falling onto her features. "You know you don't mean that."

"Oh really?" he countered. "Because lately, I've just been waiting for the right moment where I can get the upper hand and beat the living crap out of him."

"Spoken like a true hero."

He merely scoffed. "Hardly."

"So you going to give Nick a call, or what?"

"And disrupt whatever he's not doing with his day?" He feigned shock, as he placed a hand to his heart. "I couldn't possibly."

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