Precious Illusions
part 3
"Okay, so this is about a girl?" Paige Matthews proclaimed quietly, as she eagerly welcomed the warm mug of coffee between her cold fingers, using her other hand to slowly drag a single chair out from beneath the table, carefully placing her slender frame down upon it. She pulled her bare feet close to her, setting the warm drink on the hard, wooden surface, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.
"He says he doesn't want to talk about it," Phoebe Halliwell said simply, shrugging in the seat across from her, immediately noting the darkness that seeped in through the curtains of the small window in the kitchen, allowing tiny specks of night to fall soundlessly into the room. She shivered slightly, pulling the large blanket closer to her body, shielding herself from the chilly air that found the quiet house in the early morning hours, her pretty face thoughtfully lending itself to an unreadable expression, as she fought to destroy the sudden bouts of frustration she was still experiencing.
"What kind of an answer is that?"
"Paige."
"I'm serious, Phoebe. Regardless of what he did, he still needs to come clean about it. It's not fair to you...it's not fair to us. She's still out there somewhere."
"But what does she want? I mean it's not like her message was ringing crystal clear back there at Derek's house, Paige. I know she was accused of something, I just don't know what."
"Yeah, well, back in the day, people were accused of all kind of things," she told her sister, rolling her eyes.
"Do you think she was a witch?"
"Oh, that would really put the fly in the ointment, wouldn't it? The irony is literally mind-numbing."
"Well, it's not like there aren't any more of us out there- they're just not Charmed."
"Whatever," Paige sided, randomly tossing her hands about with indifference.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?"
"Have you told Piper about any of this yet?"
She shook her head. "Right now, it stays between the three of us. I'm not goi-"
"And Andy."
She scowled rather briefly. "And Andy," she repeated. "Like he's really going to tell anybody."
"I'm not saying he is. I'm just saying that the little ones wouldn't exactly benefit knowing their father was a crazy man and murdered some helpless woman way before he knew they were going to exist. But hey, you know...everything's okay now, because he honestly promises never to hurt anyone ever again, Scout's Honor."
"Alex would understand, Paige. She's a big girl. Which is obviously more than I can say for some of us at this point."
"Hey fine. Then I'm totally overreacting here. Yeah. Sure. Don't mind me. In fact, maybe we should just forget I ever brought it up. Probably be good for everyone, right?"
"It's because you still care," Phoebe reiterated, her voice quietly reassuring, "and trust me, it's okay. As much as you keep fighting it, you care about him. You know you do. Otherwise, this wouldn't keep gnawing away at your conscience the way it has."
"Denial is still a lot better when there's sunshine," Paige mumbled, taking a quick sip from the mug.
Phoebe just smiled. "I knew it."
"Yeah, yeah."
"It all started with Derek though," she kept reminding herself. "Whether or not we want to believe that what happened to him was the result of some crazed lunatic, that woman's presence was strong, Paige. I mean, I not only got that premonition, I could sense the reality of her fear. It was more pronounced- it wasn't like she was fearing being caught, it was more like she feared being here, as well as how she got here. I've never felt anything like it before."
"That's still the million dollar question, isn't it?"
"What?"
"It's like a chain reaction," she volunteered. "I mean, I see this guy's story all over the news, I go out to see his place, Cole starts acting funny the minute we get there, he flees, you and Andy go to find him, you see this woman when you touched that knob...Cole finds you, behaves even more like a nutcase than usual, and he then tragically informs you that he's to blame for her guilt-ridden demise. Did I leave anything out?"
"I'm not following."
"Oh, c'mon, Phoebe. Think about it. Cole's dealt with who he used to be long before he-" She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice completely level. "Look, we both know it. He's killed innocents- it's pretty much a given at this point. If this chick is trying to haunt him, it's definitely not anything new, okay? It's child's play."
"He's thinking about leaving," she whispered then, as she immediately averted her glance, carefully placing her palm down upon the table rather slowly, her lips pursing themselves ever so slightly.
"Come again?"
"I don't know a damn thing about this woman, Paige, and I know he wants to just pack his bags and go- like nothing is ever going to make this okay. I understand the pull of evil. I get it, all right? I mean, you're looking at a girl who had warlock powers, became Queen of the Underworld, and got possessed by the Woogy Grams warned us about when we were kids. It's a fine price to pay, and it's nothing new to me. I know I might sometimes try to deny it- pretend it never happened, but it doesn't give him the right to keep feeling this way with a crime he committed years ago. I wasn't even born."
"Wait. Back up, slow down. When did this happen? Did he tell you this back at the apartment?"
She shook her head, pursing her lips. "No, but he was upset back there, and he wasn't exactly making a hell of a lot of sense after I tried calming him down. But...God. What if he gets right up and walks out of here, Paige? What if he just does it, no explanation necessary? I might not be enough to stop it this time. I'll probably spend countless hours wondering why we fought as hard as we did to be together, only to have this...part of his past come up and slap me in the face. I don't know if I can go through that."
"Cole knows how much he loves you," she assured her. "He'd never leave if he didn't think you'd be safe without him. Maybe he just wants to get out for a few days, rent a room, think things over. I mean, let's not forget that you already threw him out once already, okay? And mind you, over something you probably now think is completely trivial."
"Yeah, and that's what scares me."
"The fact that he's going to rent a room or the fact that it's not you who's kicking his sorry butt out this time?"
"The fact that he'll be out there and he won't exactly have his wits about him. If he decides to suddenly throw himself over a bridge, I'd never even know about it."
"Look at it this way- no matter how hard we tried to kill him before, he always came back. That in itself should be reassuring enough."
"Yeah, thanks...you know, I just feel so much better now."
"Well, geez, has it gotten that bad?"
She raised an eyebrow, curiously fixing Paige with a rather confused expression, her brown eyes struggling not to crinkle into tiny triangles. "Has what gotten that bad?" she returned.
"Action! For crying out loud, are you getting enough action? Not that I care, personally, but it might actually be contributing to the whole...depression thing."
"Oh, that's great. Yes. Thank you, Dr. Matthews. You know, while you're at it, why don't you just go ahead and inform the entire house of my sexual activities?" she retorted, displaying a perturbed frown across her pretty face. "Did it ever occur to you that I might just be totally fine in that department?"
"And how the hell would I know? I've never had an interest in the man that way."
"So what does sex have to do with leaving again?"
"Ugh, nevermind. I'm sorry, all right? Once again, I am sorry for speaking tonight, because it always seems to land me in the doghouse."
"Whatever it was, it's probably a hell of a lot worse than what he tried with us," she reasoned.
"Pre or post Source?"
"You know, you're really not a lot of help here, Paige."
"You're letting this get to you- you know that, don't you? You can't keep thinking he's going to automatically do something like this when chaos hits. He's not trying to kill you anymore, and he hasn't for a long time now."
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Try to make me feel better, but really suck at it?" she suggested fondly, tossing her a small smile.
"The way I figure it, you can rationalize this any way you want, and it's still not going to erase history. Besides that, no one's perfect. She probably wasn't a saint, and even if it's what most people perceived her as, she's bound to have some kind of skeletons in her closet."
"Don't we all," she whispered.
"I mean, let's face it. You made mistakes while you were in New York, right? You got involved with that urn stealing, small-minded jerk, and-"
"Yeah, see, I was involved with Clay before he stole the urn," she clarified, raising an eyebrow.
"And you lost your job."
"But I got another one."
"Yes, you did."
"This is really going nowhere, isn't it?"
"Pretty much."
"Okay! I think I'm going to go and watch some TV," Phoebe added, already getting up, quickly grabbing the blanket, as she attempted to make her way into the other room, shooting a thoughtful glance back over her shoulder. "Might ease some of that trouble I appear to be having in the bedroom."
Paige just scrunched up her nose, as she calmly reached for the bowl of rolls that still lay on the table, quietly clamping her slender fingers around one of them. She waited patiently until her sister's back was completely turned, before she playfully heaved it right in her direction.
Alexandra Turner was oblivious to the commotion downstairs, her tiny, bare feet padding swiftly across the darkened hallway, hurriedly scampering into a room shrouded in an even deeper blackness, as she carefully felt her way around the soft carpeting, her short frame edging itself closer to the large bed with the covers slightly rumpled and shoved aside. She hesitantly lended a small hand to the figure lying facedown on the pillow, her fingers clamping down tight around the sleeve of his white t-shirt. "Daddy?"
Cole Turner didn't answer at first, his blues closed, his lips slightly parted, his right hand lazily resting on the sheet beneath the white pillow that cradled his head, his hand dangling lifelessly towards the floor below.
But the little girl was determined, as she roughly gave the clothing yet another tug, her green eyes pleading and persistent, her brown hair laying in tangles around her head. "Daddy?"
"Not now, Phoebe," he mumbled sleepily. "Mmm. We'll play this game tomorrow, all right?"
"No, Daddy. It's me, Alex. Daddy, are you awake?"
"Sweetheart?" He finally managed to pry open an eyes, as he did his best to focus in on her, his senses slowly and steadily coming to full alert. He gently cleared his throat. "What are you doing up?"
"Daddy, there's someone there."
"Did you have another nightmare?"
She immediately shook her head, her fingers latching onto his hand this time, as she eagerly tried to pull them towards her.
"Then what's wrong? Are the twi-"
"It's not them. There's someone there, and they're not going away."
"I don't understand," he murmured tiredly, as he slowly managed to shift himself into an upright position, his feet hanging over the side, his plaid pajama pants somewhat wrinkled. He continued to fight to break himself away from impending exhaustion, stifling a long yawn.
"There's a lady in my room, Daddy. I saw her."
"Ally, there's no one in your room. The house is locked up tight, and I don-"
"I saw her," she repeated, her soft voice growing all the more urgent. "She's there. She was right by my closet. I watched her move."
"It was probably just Paige," he whispered. "Phoebe must've sent her up to check on you. There's nothing to be afraid of, honey. Nothing's going to hurt you in there. They're just shadows. Shadows like to play tricks in the dark."
"I'm not making it up, I swear. She was in there, and she didn't have any clothes on."
"All right," he concluded, his eyes widening. "I think it's safe to say my theory on Paige just flew right out the window."
"Aunt Paige is downstairs. I haven't heard her come up at all. I heard her and Mommy talking a little, but I wasn't listening too much."
"Ally-"
"Can you just come look? Please?"
"You do realize that you have powers, don't you?"
"This is different," she told him softly.
"And that you can use those powers if you ever think you're in any kind of danger."
"But she might be like us," she offered, shrugging. "And it would be bad if I hurt her, wouldn't it? Maybe the Elders would be mad at me."
"We don't answer to the Elders," Cole confirmed, throwing her a small grin. "That's what Uncle Leo is for. Keeps him in line."
"But sometimes we have to, and sometimes they want to know what we're doing."
"Yeah, but I really don't think they're paying attention to some naked woman in the shadows right now," he added, jokingly rolling his eyes at her.
"Maybe they should be. Maybe it's important."
"And you're not going to give up until I come with you, are you?"
"It'll only take a minute, Daddy."
"Okay. All right. I'm game. Lead the way, young lady."
He watched as she hooked her hand firmly in his, pulling him off the bed, her bare feet treading quietly back across the floor, as both of them entered the dim, narrow hallway, quietly placing a finger to her lips. He sensed it the minute they graced her threshold, his muscles tensing in his jaws, his other hand reaching down to lightly squeeze his daughter's shoulder, as his eyes proceeded to thoroughly search the vast invitation of blackness that surrounded and greeted them, enveloping them completely. Her bed was a mess, the covers flung every which way, the pillow clumsily propped against the headboard. A pair of small, white slippers with mini polka dots lay on the floor beside the bed, one of them turned over, settled only inches apart from the first. The closet door was slightly ajar, no movement coming from it, and a small navy sweater was neatly slung across its doorknob. Some pencils and pieces of notebook paper lay scattered just below the sweater, a tiny backpack perched on a nearby chair near the window.
And yet something had seemed so very wrong only minutes earlier.
"I don't see anyone," he finally sided, letting out a breath she probably couldn't hear, as relief fondly flooded his system, his grip slowly loosening itself upon her shoulder.
"But could you just check the closet? Could you just check it, Daddy?"
"It looks as safe as you left it," he insisted.
"No, it doesn't." She was whispering again now, her voice shaking a bit, as she curled the bones in her fingers tighter around his hand, turning to look up at him, her gaze persistently meeting his own.
"Why?" he asked her rather gently, kneeling down to her level, gingerly rumpling her disheveled brown hair.
"Because I didn't leave it open. I remember closing it before I went to bed."
"Are you sure?"
She quickly nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I know it's stupid, but I like to have it closed at night. Catrina said that the boogeyman reaches out to lost souls and takes them when it's dark. She said some kids are never seen again when it gets them. She said it takes them to Hell."
He gently raised an eyebrow. "And you're going to believe a girl who thinks her genetically enhanced intelligence is the way of the future?"
"But we fight bad things all the time. Why shouldn't I believe it? If there are witches and warlocks, there has to be a boogeyman somewhere, too."
"Maybe so, but I can almost guarantee he's not going to be coming after you tonight, all right? Not on my watch. Besides, I paid him off good the last time I saw him. Favors and all that."
She almost smiled. "Okay, but something else still is. And, you know, you can't watch when you're sleeping."
"Nothing's going to get you, Ally, I promise."
"But that law place with Mr. Seth took you away at night, didn't it? It took us somewhere, and we couldn't get out, and Mommy didn't know me."
"That's not going to happen again. Byron helped us, remember?"
"So why isn't he helping us now? He should be here trying to warn us."
"Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?"
"Could you check the closet first?"
He smiled, his profile displaying a hint of warmth, as he reluctantly complied with her request, lazily lifting himself to his full height, as he calmly reached over and tried the light switch to his left, following her into the room. The room bathed itself in a bright glow now, and grew slightly more appealing in its appearance, shedding the dank array of emptiness that had previously clung to its walls. "Okay, let's see what monsters are taking up full-time residence in here, shall we?"
"Just send them home," she offered, her petite body leaping onto the unmade bed, tucking her feet beneath her.
"First we'll have to find out where they live," he told her, his hand touching the wooden door, preparing to ease it open a bit further. "And I can tell you right now, it's probably not Timbuktu. "
"The Book of Shadows would know," she countered, her eyes still wide, as she still kept them glued stiffly to his back, almost afraid to peek around and glance inside.
"Whatever happened to fighting the big battles? Winning the wars of good against evil? Where's the brave little girl I raised?"
"She's here somewhere, but right now, she doesn't really want to come out."
"Is that right? Well, we're just going to have to do something about that, aren't we?"
"I don't mean me, Daddy."
He slowly lifted his eyes to look at her, a wave of puzzlement creasing his handsome, unshaven face, as he took an unsteady step towards her, a vague and unsettling thought occupying his mind. "Then what did you mean?"
"I don't think she likes you," she whispered, her arms suddenly bringing themselves tightly around her legs, cradling them protectively to her chest, as she brought them out from under her. "No. I know she doesn't like you."
"Ally, what's going on?"
"I already told you. There's someone here."
"Sweetheart, there's no one in this room but you and me."
"I don't think so, Daddy."
"Where else is she going to hide? Hmm?" He sighed, hands slinging across his hips. His bottom lip covered the top for a moment, as he paused a minute, trying to keep his temper in check, as his blues calmly narrowed, struggling for one last ounce of patience. "You know what? These games just aren't funny anymore, Alex. I've had a very rough day, and I don't expect you to understand that- I just need you to realize it and cut me a bit of a break, okay? I'm not really in the mood to get up and go for a round of hide and seek at twelve in the morning. That's reserved for hours after school."
"I'm not making it up!" she demanded, her voice growing louder now, her green eyes wider than ever, her mouth set in a tight line.
"It's all right to have an imaginary friend. Your mom explained all of that to me before you were born, and I get it, honey. I know that it's all part of gr-"
"I didn't imagine her. I saw her, and she was there, and I don't care what you think. I'm not tired, I don't have a made-up friend, and I didn't wake you up for nothing, Daddy."
"Fine." Turning his back to her, he abruptly tugged open the closet door. Shirts and dresses casually hung themselves on hangers, lining the metal bar perched on either side of the wall, and various pairs of shoes and sandals cluttered the ground below, a few stray laces taking up some space beside them. The inside of the door had several pictures haphazardly taped to it, one done with various shades of finger paints, and another coated in crayons and markers. He started to shift his body to look at her again, and heard her casually mumble silently to herself, gasping low in her throat, her words inaudible, as something charged him, effortlessly knocking him to the ground, hearing himself let out an agonizing yell, his face wincing from the sudden impact of pain, his vision blurring.
Cold, damp hands had placed themselves securely around his neck, nails digging into his skin, as he fought to free himself from the hard and powerful grip, his own hands coming into contact with and touching naked flesh. Long, blonde hair fell limply onto his chest, as he fought to overbalance the figure on top of him, letting out a low growl when he felt an excruciating blow brush the side of his face, knocking him to his side, as the hold on him finally loosened. "Dammit," he hissed, wincing, his hands traveling to bare shoulders, as he angrily shoved them into the wall, finally managing to get a decent look at the culprit.
Alex was behind him in an instant, a small finger pointing in clear bewilderment at the discovery, her pretty face conveying a mixture of both sadness and an odd sense of wonder.
"Stop it," he snapped. "Just stop, all right? I'm not going to hurt you. Stop. Listen to me, you hav-"
But the woman continued to fight him, despite his best intentions, wriggling madly in his grasp, her green eyes shooting wildly about the room in a panic, her head mechanically going from left to right in a repetitious series of movements.
"Maybe she needs some water," Alex whispered, trying desperately to be heard over the commotion. Voices could be perceived behind her, as feet shuffled quickly up steps and down the hall, their conversation blended together, as the area around them was completely bathed in light.
"Murderer," the woman hissed, her tone hoarse and unforgiving, her sharp gaze finally meeting his straight on, her lips trembling. "You're a murderer. I know who you are."
"So do a lot of people," he quipped indifferently, while his heart began to ache inside, his muscles threatening to give out.
"I'll scream," she continued. "I'll scream, and they'll save me this time. You can't stop that. I'll scream and I'll yell and they'll come."
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said again. "I'm not going to do a goddamn thing to you. I just want you to hear me out."
"Get your hands off me."
"I-"
"I said, don't touch me."
"You're shaking."
"I am not," she whispered defiantly.
"Ally, get me a blanket."
The little girl immediately nodded without hesitation, as she raced to the far corner of her room, opening up a wooden chest that sat directly beside her nightstand table, her tiny hands diving into its contents.
He carefully drew her naked body to him, despite her current state of protests, shielding her with one arm, as he carefully pulled her into a standing position, his other hand cradling her head gingerly to his chest. "That's it, there you go."
"You can't take me," she continued. "I won't let you. I won't let you this time. I won't fall..." Her beautiful face was clothed in fresh tears, as she pounded a helpless fist against him, her feeble attempt refusing to break his hold on her.
"I know."
"You can't have me. I won't fall again."
He didn't even register the tears that had begun to take shape on his own face, slowly tumbling down his unshaven cheeks. The stabbing pain that had corrupted and churned his insides bled through him, as if his world had just come crashing down, a thousand different memories filling his head at once, trapping him in a moment of weakness- in a moment of past mistakes and regrets. A moment he still wanted to forget, despite the current series of events. "No," he told her, "you won't, Laurel. Because I won't let you."