Precious Illusions
part 7
Cole Turner quietly shimmered into the darkness of the abandoned and delicately cluttered graveyard, gingerly letting go of the fragile hand that had reluctantly clasped his. He carefully watched Laurel Egan indifferently cradle her arms protectively around her chest, refusing to lend a gaze in his direction, the wind casually tangling itself around her legs. She shivered from the slight breeze, as she finally made a note of the headstone positioned directly in front of her, it's letters indicating and woefully etching her own demise many years before. "An eagle will soar, when he has his wings, but give him trouble, and trouble he'll bring," she murmured quietly under her breath.
"I'm sorry?"
She shook her head, smiling to herself, as she pulled her arms even tighter. "It's just something my father would tell me when I was little." She shrugged then, almost as if the memory had come and gone much too rapidly for her to even consider keeping track of and treasuring it with a fondness regarding her upbringing. "I never quite got what it meant until now."
"What does it mean?" he asked her softly.
"You can make yourself if you still have the freedom to do so- but once someone shatters that freedom and takes it away, there's really no coming back from it. It's like good balancing out evil, isn't it? You can only have the good for so long, before the evil collides with it, and all hells breaks loose. It just never lets go."
"That's not true."
"Oh no?"
"The reason we have good is so evil never completely triumphs. If we didn't maintain it, the shadows would rule us all."
"You said it yourself. You're just repressing it."
"I have nothing left to repress. Now-" He paused somewhat abruptly, his blues masked and unreadable. "Now I've just decided to believe and keep believing."
"You repressed our time together," she pointed out, "You wanted any memory you had of me to go away. You said it yourself. And by believing that, how can you say good still has a chance?"
"Because I want it to, and that has to be enough."
"What do you think we'll find inside?"
"I have no idea," he replied honestly, gesturing faintly with his hands. "But it probably won't be you."
"Well, just for the record, I still don't completely trust anyt-"
"I know," he cut her off, "I'm well aware of it. But this isn't about trust anymore, Laurel."
"And your wife? How long did it take her?"
"Leave Phoebe out of this."
"It's because you know she'll leave you, isn't it? Sooner or later, something else is going to come along, and it's something she won't be able to deal with. Something so horrible that not even words can save you."
"You're way off base," he mused. "Entirely."
"No, see, I don't think so."
"There are still so many things you don't know about me." He knelt down to examine the dark, loosely scattered soil with bits and pieces of loose grass casually tossed neatly about the vacant looking stone, an eyebrow raising itself tightly in question. He withdrew a small amount of dirt into his palm, shaking it roughly about, his gorgeous countenance failing to display even the smallest amount of surprise at the find. "Someone's been here."
"As in recently?"
"Looks like it. If I'd have to wager a guess, I'd say they either didn't find what they were looking for...or worse- maybe there were dire consequences and they left us a little surprise for old times sake. Someone messing with the kind of magic that should come with a warning label."
"They put someone else's body in there."
"Not necessarily, although I wouldn't say you're too f-"
"But you'll still have to dig it up."
"When you came back," he started, pursing his lips, "you seemed to have a lot of trouble recognizing where you were and how long you'd been there."
"Yes."
"Do you think it's possible you may have been resurrected, while someone else unknowingly died at your expense? One life for another?"
She just gave him a look, as if she were caught between the confines of deep puzzlement and growing anger, her face a pillar of emotions.
"I don't mean that to sound- look, it's just that we can't...it might be the case, and if it is, we have to know who the other person is."
"Was."
"Right."
"And you think they might have left something behind, is that it?"
"That's the general idea, yes."
"If you're asking me if I had any enemies, beyond what I know of you, it isn't possible. Unless of course you made it a point to alert someone of your activities when you-" She stopped, her mouth engaging itself in a firm line, her green eyes growing somewhat unresponsive. "Besides, how would I know? You cut my life short before I could ever find out."
"My feelings for you weren't all pain and malicious suffering. And you know, while we're on the subject, let's not forget the fact that you were the one who found me. So I was obviously first on your list for something."
"Yes," she retorted, almost sarcastically, "the list of bastards who wronged me and got away with it. Sad to say, that list was quite short."
"Laurel."
"I thought we covered this," she said impatiently.
"Apparently not, if you're still trying t-"
"And you can leave now, I'll be fine."
"You're not serious."
"Just give me the shovel and go, Belthazor."
"Cole."
"Whatever." She sighed, miserably bringing a hand to her face, as she tiredly rubbed her eyes. "I mean, it's not like it makes much difference, right?"
"To me it still does."
"Because you still truly believe you're some Goddamn savior. That the fate of the world rides on your gallant shoulders."
"I've saved a lot of innocents since I met Phoebe."
"Yes, and it wasn't a compliment."
"You know, you'd think I had a sign on my back that said, 'kick me, I'm redeemed.' Guess it was just wishful thinking though, hmm?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"And seeing as you probably want to do a lot more than kick me right now..."
"A lot has changed in this world, hasn't it?"
"Violence, no. The ongoing quest for peace- maybe," he acknowledged, shrugging. "People rely on technology for the better part of their existence, and those who campaign against it, are probably going to be lost in the masses. And well...chivalry disappeared a long time ago- if you factor in how much the divorce rate's gone up. There're also still demons lurking out there, just waiting to rip your throat out. But we'll save that for bedtime reading. Like it or not, it might actually prove to be quite entertaining when you get down to it."
She merely rolled her eyes at the attempt at sarcasm. "No moving picture shows?"
"The theater," he sided, nodding, "is still here. Unfortunately, I think the quality has really diminished. Just doesn't have the staying power it used to."
"But you were much older even then, weren't you?"
"I've seen some things I'd rather forget," he said quietly. "Things I've kept from Phoebe, because she'd be better off not knowing them. My past hasn't been kind to me."
"And mine has."
"I didn't say that."
"No, of course not. Look- can we just get this over with?"
"Fine," he mumbled, his patience starting to wear thin. "You'd prefer magic, is that it?"
"Do we really have a choice?"
"Well, there's always that pesky old shovel," he deadpanned, "but in the interest of saving time..." He quietly waved a hand over the gravestone, calmly watching the soil part ways, to reveal a rather plain, unadorned coffin stained with the contagious darkness of the earth. He studied it for a moment, as he proceeded to raise it, carefully leveling it with his other hand, watching as it came to rest comfortably in a long stretch of grass upon the surface. "Open sesame."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Now that's interesting."
"What? What is it?" She had turned away the moment he'd opened the worn casket, and revealed whatever contents remained in it, both afraid of what she might find, and because she just might have possibly allowed herself to fully give into the faint curl of apprehension that had been quietly nagging her entire being. The fear that it just might be another version of her inside there, completely and devastatingly dashing any kind of hope she'd had of finally living what was previously denied her. She felt a shiver course through her rather quickly, her green eyes still shut surprisingly tight.
"Claw marks," he added, strangely amused, as he raised an inquistive brow.
"Claw marks?"
"They actually look human at first glance. But I somehow don't think it was a human who just up crawled up and out of here all by their lonesome. First off, you wouldn't have had the strength."
"But..."
He very nearly laughed, his lips on the verge of forming a small smile. "What makes you think there's anything else?"
"There's still something you're not telling me."
"Didn't I just get done explaining that part? I'm not the guy wh-"
"You're lying now."
He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, pausing for a good, long moment, as he quietly regained the remainder of his composure, letting a hand gently run the course of the coffin's wooden lid. His eyes were distant, even as his lips offered a slight tremble in response. "You really want to know what I think?"
"Belthazor."
"Cole," he corrected yet again, although he didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by the nonchalantly proposed mistake any longer. "The name is Cole Turner."
She threw him a deep frown. "Okay. Yes. Yes, I'd like to know what you think. If anything, it might just start to clear up why we really came out here in the first place."
"Someone or something," he started, "had already placed something in here with you at the time of your death. Unfortunately, I don't think it was anything resembling a person of any kind." He did laugh now, his blues finally revealing the reluctantly pronounced bout of tragedy he'd tried so hard to keep hidden from her. "And if you want to dig even a little deeper than that? I think whatever it was got out, because someone commanded it- summoned it. Brought it out to play for the hell of it, because they most likely want something from you. And you, being the...good Samaritan you are, unconsciously remembered me, sought me out, figured I'd help you kill it."
"I don't rec-"
"No, you wouldn't. You were probably still disoriented."
"So what is it?"
"Something that's evolved," he told her. "How much...I can't really say."
"Then what does that make me?"
"It would certainly explain why your memory has gaps in it, although I'm beginning to wonder- beyond this, we really have nothing to go on...and while I can't exactly rule out magic as the culprit...there might just be something else at work here."
"Your wild imagination, maybe?"
"Do you want my assistance or not?"
"Is it still here?" she whispered.
He shook his head. "I would've sensed it by now. It's probably long gone. But right now, that's besides the point, don't you think?"
"Why are you doing this?"
He bestowed her the briefest of glances, before he once again resumed his full concentration to the barren casket below him. "I'm sorry?"
"Why the hell are you doing this?" she reiterated.
"And what would this," he shrugged, calmly gesturing around him, "pertain to?"
"Look, if you're only setting out to gain my undying devotion while you profess your obsession with redemption, it's not going to work. I shouldn't even be here with you now. And yet...here I am, still as gullible as the day I met you. You could kill me out here, and no one would ever find me."
"You think this is a joke? That I actually had the time to arrange it for your amusement?"
"What else could it be?" she tried, very nearly regretting it. "Filling my head with these insane ideas? "
"If I really wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." His beautiful face hardened. "I don't play games anymore, Laurel. I'm a businessman. I've learned that negotiating solves nothing."
"I don't-"
"Yet I found myself trying with you, because I still believed you had some reason left in you," he finished, deliberately cutting her off again. "I still believe you can come to see that I'm not out there to ruin your life again."
"But I don't know that. Apparently, I don't know much of anything."
"You were starting to. For a minute there, I thought I saw the faintest hint of trust. And that's a good thing. It's progress on your part."
"It's not that easy."
"I get that. And I'm willing to deal with it...if I have to. Either way, I'm still going to help."
"Why?" she asked again.
"Let's put it this way. You deserved more. You deserved a lot more than I ever gave you." He smiled painfully, very nearly wincing. "And I hate that. You know? I hate that I was never able to right a wrong that's been years overdue."
"Out of pity then."
"Out of honesty and forgiveness," he corrected. "I can hate the fact that I couldn't save you before, but I certainly don't hate you."
"And you can't go to the proper authorities with this, can you?"
"There's Andy," he responded, shrugging. "Inspector Trudeau? He's probably all the help we're going to get- along with Phoebe and her sisters. But that should be enough. It usually is."
"I still don't understand you," she whispered.
"You don't have to."
"No, I mean...you freely admit your faults and your regrets, but yet you won't enlist help in anything beyond the family you've made for yourself. You talk about reaching out...to innocents, no less, yet you make things personal to you. You're making this personal."
"Because it is. I can't exactly use the 'a woman just came back from the dead and ended up in my house alive' excuse now, can I? They'd call me crazy in two seconds flat and lock me up behind bars. And a lot of good that'll do, you know? You can't exactly save the day when you're supposed to sit behind metal and sleep on a cot."
"But I saw what you can do," she protested. "Even if they do that, you'd still stand a chance. You could use what brought you here. Whatever it was that you did...it took us here from the house."
"It did," he acknowledged, "but it's not something I'm going to freely admit in public- to the public. They're not going to be handing out awards for the most creative former demon living in San Francisco. This is what handcuffs are for. There's a fine line, Laurel."
"There wasn't with me though, was there? Secrets were fine, because they were designed to kill."
"Guilt party for one," he quipped, "at your service."
"So I was brought back to life, because something that's gone from here, something that's escaped, gave it to me through someone else's control? How does that happen? Who actually lets it happen? Because far be it for me to not see the strangeness in that. I was nobody anybody would care to revive, let alone revive with a specific purpose in mind."
"I intend to find out. But just between you and me, for a woman who seems to fear so much of the unknown, you're sure taking this better than I thought you would."
"And how did you think I would take it when you know damn well why I ended up here from day one?"
"There you go again. Listen...I'm going to make this very simple for both of us, okay? Are you listening?"
Reluctantly, she initiated a small nod, quietly rolling her eyes, as her fingers threatened to clench themselves into short, tight fists. She forced herself to meet his gaze, pulling even more from the past than she'd wanted, or hoped to. Half of her wondered if she'd always see him this way- if she'd always view and condemn him in a light he'd no longer wished to be seen in, having professed as much to her countless times. It was all starting to come back. Before there'd been only vague pieces, fragments, a brief glimpse into the woman she used to be. Suddenly, there was more. "Yes," she murmured.
"If you want me to keep you alive in the present, you may just have to continue remembering the past. Whatever the reason behind it, you're here, and that's what matters. In fact, it's the only thing that matters. I realize how painful it is, how impossible it is to come face to face with me on such short notice...but I feel it just as much as you do. It's over, Laurel, it happened, and now something's changed. The difference is, it won't end the same way. And I'll do whatever I can to make good on that. So you can stand there and yell until your heart's content, or you can take this and run with it, embrace it...live your life until you're old and gray and search for the happiness I took from you. It's still your choice, and I hope you make the right one. I won't be in your way, but I can at least give you help in finding it again."