Precious Illusions

part 7

Cole Turner flawlessly shimmered into the obscurity of the abandoned and finely cluttered graveyard, gingerly releasing the fragile hand that had reluctantly clasped his the entire journey there. He circumspectly watched Laurel Egan cradle her arms indifferently around her chest in an oddly protective declaration, her blue eyes declining to lend a peek in his direction, while a gust of wind caught itself revolving wildly about her legs. She shivered from the frail breeze, as she finally made a note of the headstone positioned directly in front of her, the bold 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 muttered quietly under her breath.

"I'm sorry?" he returned.

Laurel simply shook her head and smiled to herself, pulling her arms even tighter around her thin frame. "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 recalling 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 hell 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 darkness would rule us all."

"You said it yourself. You're just repressing it. It's always going to be there, and you can't ever hope for anything else."

"You say that now, don't you?" He very nearly chuckled, as he paused somewhat abruptly, his blues masked and perfectly shrouded in shadows. "But I've...well, I guess I've decided the key is to keep believing and to hold tight to those beliefs."

"You repressed our time together," she pointed out. "You wanted all of the memories you had of me to go away, and if you were to believe in that, how can you still say good has a chance?"

"That's the thing, isn't it? Sometimes what we want just has to be enough, no matter the risks we may or may not have to take to get there."

"What do you think we'll find inside?"

"I have no idea," he replied honestly, gesturing faintly with his palms held out in front of him. "But if we're going to gamble here and lay it all on the table, it's safe to say that it's probably not going to be you."

"Look, just for the record, I haven't exactly put my trust in you yet, and I'm not even sure why I agreed to come out here in the dead of night to try to-"

"I know," he cut her off, "I'm well aware of it, and since we seem to keep coming back to the subject, you and I both know this isn't really about trust anymore, Laurel."

"What about your wife? How long did it take her?"

"Leave Phoebe out of this."

"It's because you're scared she'll leave you, isn't it? I mean, sooner or later, something or someone else from your past is bound to come along, right? It could end up being too much for her to deal with, and no matter how you work to justify the cause, not even words will be able to make a difference."

"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 pile of loosely scattered soil embedded with bits and pieces of grass that had been tossed haphazardly around the vacant looking stone, an eyebrow slowly raising itself in question. He withdrew a minimal amount of dirt into his palm, shaking it roughly about, his gorgeous countenance failing to display even the smallest hint of surprise at the find. "Someone's been here."

"Were they here recently?"

"It looks like it. If I had to wager some kind of theory, I'd say they either didn't find what they were looking for, or had to haul it out of here in a hell of a hurry. People don't go around disturbing graves for old times sake, so odds are it's 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 far off."

"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?"

She just gave him a look, acutely unresponsive, almost as if she were somehow caught between the confines of profound bewilderment and growing anger, her face presenting itself as a pillar of emotions.

"I don't mean that to sound like I think you had anything to do with it. It's just that we can't...well, it might be the case that another innocent has died, and if it is, we have to know who they are."

"Were," she corrected.

"Right," he quickly confirmed.

"You think the robbers 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 to your activities when you-" She stopped, her mouth engaging itself in a firm line, her blue eyes becoming ardorless. "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. Besides, let's not forget the fact that you were the one who found me this time. 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. I'm sorry to tell you that it was very small because you were the only one on it."

"Laurel."

"I thought we covered this," she said impatiently.

"Apparently not, if you're still trying-"

"You can leave now, I'll be fine."

"You're not serious," he objected, notably stunned at her ability to continually doubt him, her unwavering obstinance anything but a benediction.

"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 there's this big distinction, right?"

"To me there is."

"That's only because you're still truly certain you're some Goddamn savior, and 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 swear I have a sign on my back that says, 'kick me, I'm redeemed.' I guess it was just wishful thinking, wasn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I already have it on good authority that you want to do a lot more than kick me right now."

"A lot has changed in this world, hasn't it?" she finally concluded.

"Violence, not so much. 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. You might also be relieved to know that chivalry disappeared a long time ago, especially when you factor in how much the divorce rate's gone up. But there's still demons lurking out there, and they want nothing more than to rip your throat out. It sure doesn't make for good bedtime reading, though it might actually prove to be mildly entertaining when you get right down to it."

She merely rolled her eyes at his attempt at satire. "No moving picture shows?"

"The theater," he sided, nodding, "is still here. Unfortunately, I think the quality has really diminished. It 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 offered weakly. "Things I've kept from Phoebe, because she'd be better off not knowing them. My past hasn't been kind to me."

"Oh, and mine has?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, of course not. Look, can we please 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 soundlessly waved a hand over the gravestone, and impassively watched the soil part in two, revealing a rather plain, unadorned coffin stained with the infectious calignosity of the earth. He studied it for a moment, as he proceeded to raise it, carefully leveling it with his other hand. It came to rest fairly comfortably in a pad of green grass upon the surface. "Open sesame."

"Excuse me?"

"Now that's interesting."

"What? What is it?" She had turned away the moment he'd opened the worn casket and exhibited whatever contents had remained in it, discernibly afraid of what she might find. She knew all too well that she absolutely dreaded the feeling of allowing herself to fully give into that faint curl of apprehension that had been quietly nagging her entire being. The fear that it just might be another version of herself inside there, completely and devastatingly dashed any kind of hope she'd had of finally being able to live for what was previously denied her. She felt a shiver course through her rather quickly, her blue eyes still shut surprisingly tight.

"Claw marks," he added, strangely amused.

"Claw marks?"

"They actually look human at first glance, though it would be awfully hard to manage an escape if he or she didn't have a little bit of supernatural help on their side. For starters, the person in question wouldn't have had enough strength to successfully pull it off."

"But..."

He very nearly laughed, his lips on the verge of forming a grin. "What makes you think there's anything else?"

"C'mon, I know there's something you're not telling me."

"Didn't I just get done explaining that part? I'm not the guy looking for a fight here, okay? If anything, you must want there to be more so you can safely assure yourself-"

"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 trembled marginally 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 big 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 had already placed something in here with you at the time of your death," he began. "Unfortunately, I don't think it was anything resembling a person of any kind." He did laugh now, his eyes finally disclosing the mournfully tragic revelation he'd tried so hard to keep hidden from her. "If you want to dig a little further than that, I think whatever it was got out, because that same someone commanded it or summoned it. They brought it out to play, because they most likely want something from you. Being the...good Samaritan you are, you unconsciously remembered me, sought me out, figured I'd help you kill it."

"I don't recall-"

"No, you wouldn't. You were probably still disoriented."

"So what is it?"

"Something that's evolved," he told her. "How much...I really can't say."

"Then what does that make me?"

"It would certainly explain why your memory has gaps in it, although I'm seriously beginning to wonder...because beyond this, we really have nothing to go on. While I can't exactly rule out magic as the culprit yet, 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 at the moment, that's obviously besides the point, don't you think?"

"Why are you doing this?"

He bestowed upon her the briefest of glances, before he once again lended his undivided attention to the barren casket below him. "I'm sorry?"

"Why in God's name are you doing this?" she reiterated.

"What would this pertain to?" He shrugged, coolly gesturing around him.

"If you're only attempting to gain my undying devotion while you profess your obsession with restitution, it's not going to work. I shouldn't even be 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."

"Do you think this is a joke? Do you think I actually had the time to arrange it for your own personal enjoyment?"

"What else could it be?" she tried, almost regretting it. "What other explanation would there be for you to fill 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-"

"But I found myself trying with you, because I thought 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."

"I don't know that. Apparently, I don't know much of anything."

"You were starting to. For a minute there, I could have sworn I saw some good old-fashioned trust. That's a great thing, and it already shows progress on your part."

"It's not easy."

"I get that, and even better, 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, flinching slightly. "I really hate that, you know? I hate that I was never able to right a wrong that's been years overdue. You were only the beginning."

"So it's out of pity then."

"It's out of honesty and forgiveness," he corrected. "I can hate the fact that I couldn't save you before, but I certainly don't want to walk away from another chance to save you now."

"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 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."

"That because it is. I can't exactly use the line where you just suddenly came back from the dead and ended up in my house alive, can I? They'd call me crazy in two seconds flat and lock me up behind bars. A whole lot of good that'll do. 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 to escape. Whatever it was that you did, it took us here from the house, and did so rather quickly."

"It did," he acknowledged, "but it's sure as hell not something I'm going to tell the public about. They won't be giving out awards for the most creative former demon living in San Francisco. Besides, that's what handcuffs are for. There's a fine line, Laurel, and you can't cross it."

"There wasn't a fine line with me though, was there? Secrets were fine at the time, because they were designed to kill."

"Guilty party for one, at your service," he quipped.

"Okay, so let's see if I have this right. Something that's not here anymore- something that has now escaped, went and bunked with me underground, and did it to me through someone else's control?" Her eyes simply widened, as she tried to get a handle on it. "How does that happen? Who actually lets it happen? I can't help but see the obvious strangeness in this. I was nobody anybody would care to revive, let alone bring back with a specific purpose in mind."

"I know, and 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 a lot better than I thought you would."

"How exactly did you think I would take it when you know damn well why I ended up here from day one?"

"Nothing is for certain yet, all right? Just...just listen to me, and I'm going to make this pretty much effortless for the both of us, okay?"

Reluctantly, she initiated an inconsequential nod, aggravatingly rolling her eyes, as her fingers threatened to clasp themselves into short, tight fists. She forced herself to meet his gaze, drawing even more from the past than she'd originally intended to, her heart beating just a little bit faster. A part of her truly wondered if she'd always scrutinize him this way- if she'd always view and condemn him in a light he no longer wished to be seen in, despite his countless confessions on how he endlessly wished for her acceptance. It was all starting to come back. Before there had been only vague pieces, microscopic fragments, a brief glimpse into the woman she used to be. Suddenly, there was much more. "Yes," she murmured.

"If you want me to keep you alive in the present, you may just have to continue remembering a time you'd like to forget. 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 everything I can to make good on that. So you can stand there and yell and make a scene, or you can take this...try to embrace it. You can live your life until you're old and gray, and do anything it takes to 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."

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